#I’ve almost decided here lately to stop trading and just be happy with the cards I pull

[sluttyten]

I saw a TikTok last night about how to get resonance albums cheaper at target and now I really want to go to target and buy one of the last few copies my store has even though I’ve already got a copy (but I still need Kun’s card from the Arrival version so I want to see if I could possibly have the luck of pulling it, or at least then I’d pull a card I could trade, which seems equally as unlikely tbh)

[yesimwriting]

Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

--

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

--

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

--

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

[songbirdsingingthings]

Girls Day - Shoto Todoroki

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Work for you this week was grueling to say the least. Your agency had assigned you to lead a coalition of heroes to take down a group of villains holding hostages, which for you was no problem. What was a problem, however, was the fact that some of the heroes in your group got sloppy which led to some of the hostages getting injured. Thankfully none of the injuries led to fatalities, but a couple came pretty close. This stuck you working in your office for four days straight writing up paperwork and detailing exactly how everything happened. You knew you had no fault in this, and so did your superiors, but you were technically responsible for those who did make mistakes. 

After you finally finished dotting the last i and crossing the last t, you scanned and faxed the documents over to your higher ups, stuffed any necessary paperwork that involved other agendas into your work bag, and finally, finally, turned off your laptop. You took a deep breath and ran a hand through your hair, but stopped halfway when you got a call on your cell. You see your good friend, Ochaco Uraraka, soon to be Ochaco Midoriya, is the contact listed as calling. 

“Hey Ochaco, what’s up?” You asked, fatigue clear in your voice.

“Hey Y/N! Nothing much, I was just wondering if you were free tomorrow! I was thinking of having a girls day - you, me, Momo, Tsu, Mina, Jirou, and Hagakure! You in?” Relishing in the idea of a relaxing day off, a smile spreads across your face.

“Hell yeah I’m in. Where are we all meeting?” You say as you simultaneously begin to shut off the lights in your office.

“Well, those new outlet malls just opened up, I was thinking of heading there! There’s sure to be a lot of cute things, maybe you could get something for a date night with Todoroki!” You blushed lightly as she mentioned your boyfriend’s name and rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, well, we both have to have time off for a date night to happen in the first place. You know both of us well enough to know that we’re workaholics.” You joke. It was true to an extent, though. Both you and Shoto were busy people whose work schedules, more often than not, didn’t line up. The two of you made it clear to each other when the relationship started that you couldn’t really get mad at eachother for occasionally canceling dates or having dinner late. The life of a hero was tough and erratic - you couldn’t really count on when a villain was going to strike.

“If Shoto Todoroki sees you wanting to have a date night, he’s going to make it happen. Add a fancy outfit to that? Girl, you’re set.” You laugh at Ochaco’s statement and lock your door, making your way to the elevator. You give parting smiles to the people still working at the desks on the main floor and a quiet wave to your receptionist. You continue to chat with Ochaco about fun ideas for the day tomorrow like where to eat, if you were going to get your nails done, and maybe heading to the brand new spa. 

“Oh, that just sounds like heaven. I’ve been dying to get a massage - I’ve been stuck at my desk for the past few days and my shoulders are absolutely killing me.” You open the big glass doors that belong to your agency, finally making your way outside to where a certain red-and-white haired man stood waiting with a bouquet of (your favorite flower). Your face immediately softens and you give him a giddy smile. “Hey, I’m gonna have to call you back. I can’t wait for tomorrow!” You and Ochaco say goodbye and you hang up. 

“Who was that?” Shoto asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Ochaco,” you respond as you stuff your phone into your coat pocket, “the girls and I are going out for a girls day tomorrow.” you announce happily, leaning into Shoto to give him a quick kiss. You trade your bag for the flowers, at his insistence, and take his free hand in yours.

“That’ll be nice - you deserve a nice day out.” Shoto says, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You hum in response and smell the flowers, sighing at its aroma.

“What about you? Do you have to go in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but it’s a short day for me,” he says, “just finalizing some recruitments for internships.” You smile at his words.

“It’s so great that you're doing that Sho,” you say, “I remember how happy I was when I got to go intern for Hawks. I probably didn’t stop smiling for weeks.” Shoto chuckles at that.

“Yeah I remember. You were practically buzzing with excitement.” Recollection of another memory crosses his mind which makes him laugh harder.

“What?” You say, grinning.

“I remember you calling me and telling me how Tokoyami basically had to shut you up because Hawks was too nice to tell you to stop talking when you were on a mission.” At this point he was cackling. You laugh with him and swat him with the flowers causing some petals to fall away. 

“Ugh that was so embarrassing,” you say, watching Shoto wipe a tear that had escaped as he was laughing, “the hue of my face was practically identical to your red hair.

The drive back to your shared apartment was full of laughter and more memories from your time at UA. When Shoto finally confessed, when your relationship became official, and all the silly moments in between. You finally arrive home and the two of you decide to have leftovers for dinner and watch a movie on the couch. You were so perfectly happy at this moment. You and your boyfriend, unwinding at the end of the day. The fact that you were so comfortable with living with each other now that you could be slouched on your couch, eating leftovers right out of the tupperware, and watching a stupid rom com on T.V. . 

Finally it was time to go to bed. Your eyes were already shut by the time Shoto finished washing up and you feel the dip in the mattress beside you. It was quiet as you were wrapped in his arms. Well, quiet until Shoto nudged your shoulder with his chin.

“Take my credit card when you go out tomorrow.” He says quietly, pressing a kiss against the back of your neck.

“Shoto Todoroki, I will do no such thing.” You mumble, eyes still closed.

“Please?” He asks quietly, making you melt a little, “I want tomorrow to be completely relaxing. I know you credit yourself as a smart shopper, but I want you to just spend whatever you want on anything you want.” He says as he nuzzles you.

“Sho, I make almost as much as you - I can go shopping with my own card.” You respond. However, his next few words make you agree rather quickly to using his.

“The one I’m giving you is tied to my father’s bank account.”

“...Okay deal.”

By the time you wake up the following morning, Shoto is already gone. You stretch your arms and back and groan. You push the stray hair in front of your face behind your ear and see a little note next to a danish and a silver credit card.

“Breakfast for you, my love. Have a great day. Also, I booked a reservation at that fancy restaurant in town that you like for 7:30 p.m. . Go crazy with the card, my father won’t even notice. Love, your Shoto.”

Your heart always flutters when he writes you letters and signs them with “your Shoto”. It’s a sweet affirmation that you have his heart. You nibble on the danish as you scroll through messages on your phone, the most recent ones from Ochaco and the girls.

Mina: We’re meeting at the outlets at 11:00 a.m. right?

Ochaco: Yup! Get excited!

You eventually roll out of bed and stroll into your closet, looking at the array of clothes hanging up. You decide on a casual yet chic outfit and get dressed. You grab the coffee waiting for you on the counter in the kitchen, yet another gift from shoto, stuff Endeavor’s credit card into your purse, and make your way to the outlets by taxi. When you finally get there, you see that the whole group is there. You thank and pay the driver quickly and rush out to meet up with your friends.

“Y/N!” they all say, giving you a big hug.

“Hey guys! Wow, it’s so great to see all of you here together - I can’t remember the last time we all met up!” You say, grinning. As a group you all make your way into the mall, stopping by some high end boutiques and designer stores.

“How’s the fiance?” You ask Ochaco, wiggling your eyebrows. She gives you a smile as she looks through some of the skirts hanging on the rack next to her.

“Oh, Izuku’s great. Couldn’t be more excited about the wedding, if I’m honest.” She says giggling. The two of you talk about the wedding planning and everything for a bit, listening to Ochaco gush about how involved Izuku is with the process.

“What about you Y/N? Any wedding bells in your future?” Mina says, popping into the conversation. You blush and try to make yourself look busy by inspecting the hem on a shirt very carefully.

“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, Shoto and I are going super well right now, it’s just that the both of us are so busy. I always thought that we would get married but I don’t really know about how he feels about it.” The girls quirk their eyebrows at this, confused as to how the two of you hadn’t had a conversation about that yet. Quickly, you clear everything up. “I just don’t want him to think of his parents’ predicament - I mean that was his first view on marriage, and I know that he knows that that’s not how marriage works, but I feel like it might be a touchy subject.” The girls nod and give you reassuring smiles.

“Oh Y/N, you have got to try the dress on. I mean, it’s made for you.” You hear Momo say. You follow her gaze to a mannequin and couldn’t even try to hold back the gasp that left your mouth. It truly was beautiful. The dress was navy in color and was clearly made of an expensive material. The sleeves, which were long sleeves, were also sheer and dotted with small pearls. On the mannequin as well were matching shoes and a bag. You just couldn’t keep your eyes off of it. It was so expensive, in fact, that you had to ask the store manager directly to go into the back and grab you your size so that you could try it on. You had to say, when you put that dress on, you felt like a million bucks. Momo was right, it really was made for you. Sliding the curtain back so that the rest of the girls could see, you didn’t even try to hide your smile as you saw the girls’ reactions.

“Y/N L/N, if you weren’t already taken I would pounce on you myself.” Mina says, making you laugh. You get similar compliments from the rest of the girls, making you smile, and taking the dress and the accessories up to the register. The woman there kindly wraps the dress, shoes, and bag carefully in tissue paper and places the three items into a pretty shopping bag. You had fun during the rest of the day, eating lunch, getting a mani-pedi, and a massage, but you couldn’t contain your excitement at the thought of wearing that dress to yours and Shoto’s dinner date that evening.

After your busy day of shopping, you immediately run home to shower. You had about an hour to wash your hair and body, making sure to shave your legs so that you looked totally put together that evening. You manage to do your hair in your favorite formal style, slip on your dress and shoes, and swing the small matching bag over your shoulder. You put on a tiny bit of make-up, just a light coat of mascara and a sheer layer of lip gloss. You look at yourself in the mirror and almost explode. You even had to admit it to yourself. You. Looked. HOT.

You finally make your way to the restaurant and ask the hostess at the front to direct you to your table. She led you to where Shoto was sitting, looking at the menu. As soon as he registers people coming towards him, he looks up but almost chokes. Seeing you in that dress almost made his eyes pop out of his head. He couldn’t even form a coherent thought as he mindlessly thanked the hostess and watched you sit down across from him. Smirking, you gently wave a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Shoto! Is someone in there?” You said, giggling softly. The only thing Shoto could say was something that he had been thinking about for the past two years non-stop. With no filter and no reason to stop himself, he made that thought known.

“You wanna get married?”

[everywhereallofthetime]

Some Girl ... Part 15

Word Count: almost 1.8k

Warnings/Notes: A few cuss words. Overzealous, disrespectful fan, Shawn trying to be a sweetheart anyway. Brief mentions of Camila.

// * // * //

Monday / July 26th

At 9:03am Monday morning, Charlotte was at the front desk chatting with Jaime, her office assistant, when Ethan came rushing in, apologizing for being late. Charlotte waved it off and told him that it happened to the best of them. She then led him to the studio they would be starting in.

While they warmed up, Charlotte learned that Ethan was the single dad of a 15-month-old baby girl. The reason he was late, he felt the need to explain, was because he had his daughter over the weekend and he needed to drop her off at daycare on his way. She didn’t want him to go, so he gave her an extra few snuggles to try to comfort her.

Charlotte smirked. “She already knows she has you wrapped around her finger.”

“She absolutely does,” he chuckled. He showed her his home screen on his cell phone, which was a picture of her.

“I have a six-month-old son,” Charlotte offered with a smile of solidarity, showing him the photo of Sebastian on her own phone home screen.

They chuckled at the fact that they were ‘those kind’ of parents; showing photos of their kids without asking others if they even wanted to see them.

It was a nice jumping off point for them to connect and start getting to know one another on a more personal level.

On a professional level, Ethan was about 25 pounds heavier than he wanted to be. Charlotte reminded him that he would be trading fat for muscle, so his overall weight might not change much, depending on how muscular he wanted to be. She didn’t believe in weigh-ins except with their first session and again at their last. She told her clients to mark their progress with measurements, not the scale.

Aside from that, he was an absolute dear and very, very attractive. He had the darker skin of someone with mixed heritage and short dark hair, but his eyes were a beautiful sea green.

Ethan was also somewhat flirtatious. Charlotte had a feeling he was holding back and couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of Shawn. He had, after all, first met her when Shawn was standing beside her.

If she wasn’t so unsure of where she and Shawn may be heading, she would certainly be flirting back.

// * // * //

Charlotte was saying goodbye to Ethan, and how she was looking forward to their next session that Thursday, as her newest potential client was arriving.

Jetta was petite and cute, with blonde hair and dark eyes. Charlotte thought they might be close in age, but not in maturity. She had an air about her that said she was spoiled rotten and used to getting whatever she wanted. She hoped she was wrong in her presumption, this was only their initial meeting after all, but she was more intuitive than most people.

Nonetheless, Charlotte flashed a warm, professional smile in greeting. She then brought Jetta back to her office to begin their consultation. She was a no-nonsense trainer, not the coddling type. She was about to learn if Jetta had the disposition and dedication that she needed to be one of her clients.

After a straight-forward conversation with Jetta about the kind of commitment she would need to be successful, Charlotte could already tell she was wavering. Still, she showed Jetta the studios and equipment, and they had a brief workout to get a feel for each other.

When their time was almost up, Jetta excused herself for the washroom while Charlotte made a few notes, which ended with: Probably won’t be back...

// * // * //

Charlotte headed toward the front office, where she and Jetta were supposed to reconvene, and found Shawn chatting with Jaime at the front desk.

“You’re only supposed to flirt like that with me, Mendes,” Charlotte teased.

“I’m practically married already. It doesn’t count,” Jaime giggled.

“You aren’t married yet.” Shawn made the gesture of holding a phone to his ear and winked at her, mouthing ‘call me’.

“And he calls me ‘trouble’,” Charlotte said to Jaime, chuckling. She then gave Shawn a playful shove and said, “Go warm up. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Before he could make it to the door which led the way to the CrossFit studio, he was intercepted by a slightly overzealous Jetta.

“Hi! Oh my God! I’m a huge fan!”

Shawn was always unfailingly polite and full of gratitude. He flashed that brilliant smile of his. “Thanks!”

“I didn’t know you worked out here!”

“No one knows that I work out here, and I’d kind of like to keep it that way.” He said so in a way which asked Jetta not to say anything without actually asking her not to say anything.

“Sure, absolutely. I watched your Live last night.”

“That’s great! I hope you liked it.”

“Of course I did! I’m so excited for new music from you.”

“It makes me happy to hear that.”

“Can we take a selfie?”

“For sure, but then I’ve gotta go.”

Jetta handed Shawn her phone and posed beside him, standing as close as she could. As soon as the shutter clicked, she stated, “I’m glad you and Camila finally broke up.”

Shawn felt immediate dizziness fill his head. “Oh,” was the only response he could manage.

Noticing how he stiffened beside her and how red filled his cheeks, she quickly added, “It’s just that I never thought she was right for you,” as if that would make it better.

Charlotte felt the need to step in and end things. “I’m sorry, Jetta, but Shawn is here for a session and we should really get started.”

“Sure. Yeah, all right.”

Charlotte could see the very moment everything all came together in Jetta’s mind.

“You’re ‘starlit_charlotte’! You posted the basketball video!” Jetta turned back to Shawn. “She’s the friend you were talking about in your chat!” She looked from him back to Charlotte, and again at him. “Are you two together?”

“We’re friends.”

Jetta’s focus remained on Shawn and Shawn alone. “If you aren’t dating her, do you wanna go out sometime? With me? Here,” she said, shoving a business card into his hand.

Quickly glancing at it, he could see that it listed all of her social media accounts and usernames.

She placed her hand on his forearm and flashed him what she thought was her sexiest smile. “Feel free to slide into my DMs.”

Shawn tried to stay cool and cordial but he was ready for her to get out of his space, and he hating feeling like that around his fans. “It was nice to meet you, Jetta, but I really gotta go. We’re running late.”

“Oh! Okay, sure,” she grinned, oblivious to Shawn basically telling her it was time for her to go away. “See you around!”

Not if I can help it, Charlotte thought to herself while she did her best to smile pleasantly. She turned Shawn away from Jetta, placed her hands on either of his hips, and pushed him through the door. Over her shoulder, back to Jetta, she said, “Give me a call if you decide you’d like to start training and we’ll work out a schedule.”

// * // * //

Charlotte handed Shawn a jump rope. He started skipping and, after he found his rhythm, murmured, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“You never need to apologize for stopping for your fans, and for being kind, even when they don’t deserve it. If it had been me, it would have meant the world to me if you took time to talk to me and take a selfie. I’m sorry. You looked like you were beginning to get overwhelmed and I reacted, but it was wrong for me to butt in. I know you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own. After all, you’ve been doing this for years.”

“In this case, you weren’t wrong. Sure, she was a fan, but I am also your client and we had a scheduled session that has now started ten minutes late. As my trainer you had every right to call attention to that.”

“Sure, but as your friend, I want to be supportive of you, and I want your fans to like me. It will make your interaction with them a lot easier if they do.”

Shawn shook his head as if in disbelief. “She was...excitable, eh?”

“She was rude,” Charlotte said frankly.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean to be.”

"You are too good for this world,” she sighed. “She insulted Camila and your relationship with her right to your face, babe. It was disrespectful.”

“I wasn’t going to be impolite back at her... She might be your newest client.”

“First off, no one would have blamed you, least of all me. And no. I don’t want to train her, and I hate saying that about anyone. Until she saw you, I had a feeling she wouldn’t have been back. Now that she knows you work out here, with me, she will be. I’ll see if Lina will take her on.”

“I wonder if she’ll say anything to anyone.”

“Of course she will. And I wouldn’t put it past her to embellish the story of your meeting. ‘He’s even more gorgeous in person!’ At least that wouldn’t be an embellishment. ‘He was flirting!’ She won’t bother to add ‘with the office assistant’. A business card for social media. Like, really? Is that a thing now? I’m only 23. Should this not surprise me?” Shawn started giggling. “‘I gave him my number and he said he’d slip into my DMs!’ She’s cute though; she’d be easy to believe. At least she caught you pre-workout and not when you were all gross and sweaty. Although, I don’t know, she might’ve liked your sweat and post-workout stink.”

Shawn was having difficulty catching his breath; it was hard to laugh and jump-rope at the same time.

“So much for subtly and slowly, eh?” he said between chuckles.

“More like clearly and quickly,” she giggled. Shawn opened his mouth to say something but Charlotte immediately shut him down. “Don’t you dare try to apologize again. Do I have to remind you of our conversation last night?”

“Okay, fine.”

“All right then. Twenty squats.”

“I fucking hate squats,” he groaned, dropping the jump rope.

“I can always make them buddy squats,” she threatened. “Come on, babe. They’ll make your ass look great.”

“You must do a lot of squats,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes but still blushed. “Your charm will not get you out of having to do them,” she snickered. “Let’s go. Shit stuff first, then fun stuff. You know the drill.”

// * // * //

Part 16

[argylemnwrites]

I Fold

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Book 1, chapter 12)

Word Count: ~2400

Rating: PG-13 (language, mild sensuality)

Summary: Spending time with her always feels like a gamble

Author’s Note: Written for the @choicesmonthlychallenge for August 21 - temptation. With TRH3 coming out today, I found myself feeling a little bummed that I had no desire to play this series I once loved, so I decided to throw this together to revisit a time when I adored this series and these characters.

Drake stepped into the lounge almost tentatively, scanning the room quickly from the doorway and letting out a sigh when he confirmed he was alone. He didn’t want to think about the fact that there was a lot of disappointment mixed in with his relief at that realization.

He walked over to the bar, rooting through the bottles of liquor until he found the Bushmills he was looking for. He had no reason to suspect that she would be joining him tonight. She wouldn’t even know about this lounge at Applewood. But then again, she’d stumbled upon him in that lounge back at the palace without any warning, and she hadn’t exactly known where to find him then, at least at first. It had been pure coincidence.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was that he’d rather enjoyed the handful of nights they’d spent drinking whiskey and playing poker. Before they’d made the trip to Applewood, it had kind of settled into a late night tradition, with her waiting for him in the lounge after the first couple of times. But now, things were apparently back to normal, which Drake knew in his soul was for the best. Since his birthday yesterday, he was having thoughts he definitely shouldn’t be. Or rather, more thoughts he shouldn’t be. But part of him still just wanted to spend a little more time with her.

He took his glass of whiskey and headed for the couches, pulling out his phone and trying to not feel let down that it looked like she wasn’t joining him. After all, he’d never had problems drinking alone before she dropped into his life. So, he pulled up scores from the football matches today and was ready to watch some highlights when he heard the door creak open.

His eyes flew to the door in an instant. There she was, her dark hair swinging as she glanced around the room, a smile appearing when she met his gaze.

“There you are. I’ve been hunting for where you might be hiding,” she said, stepping fully into the lounge, closing the door behind her. She’d changed into a pair of tight jeans and a loose, purplish sort of top. She looked good, so much more comfortable than he’d seen her all day. “After not only being forced to bake today, but forced to bake with Olivia, I definitely need a drink.”

Drake moved to stand up and pour her some whiskey, but she shook her head. “I got it. Why don’t you find some cards?” And just like that, she was striding over to the bar like she owned the place. His eyes drifted down, watching the way her hips and ass rolled in those jeans before he snapped out of it, jerking his head to the side and standing up, running his hands through his hair as he made his way to the small cupboard off to the side. He needed to stop. He couldn’t let himself get carried away here.

“What’s on the drink menu tonight?” he heard her call out as he dug around, trying to find a deck of cards and some poker chips.

“Bushmills, but if you want something else, Liu-”

“Nah, that’s fine with me.” He heard the splash of liquid into a glass as he continued his search. He eventually found an old deck of cards, but there did not appear to be any chips.

“How’s the hunt going?” she asked, her voice much closer. She must be at the coffee table.

“I don’t think there are any poker chips here, Liu.” He reached his arm in as deep as he could, feeling around the back of the cupboard, but he was still coming up empty.

“Hmmm. Do you have any cash on you? We could use that.”

He pivoted to face her, finding her sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, her arms wrapped around her knees. “Are you literally trying to take my money? Because of all your potential marks at the manor, I’m probably the dumbest choice.”

She threw her head back and laughed at that, deep and rich, her black hair hanging like a surreal curtain behind her. “Maybe I just figured I could start small, gradually work my way through the court!” He chuckled lightly at that before she continued, “But seriously, I don’t know. I was just trying to come up with something we could use. So unless you have other ideas…” She trailed off with a little shrug, her dark eyes wide as they locked on his. The silence that followed was tense and expectant. 

Drake swallowed roughly. He could think of one option besides poker chips as he let his eyes drift across her body, picturing each piece of clothing she was wearing piled on the table in front of her. Those damn jeans that fit her like a second skin. That shirt that was loose and slipping off her shoulder just a bit. The bra he knew was blue based on the strap he could see on that shoulder. Her panties, probably not a matching blue, but still undoubtedly perfect, regardless of color.

He tried to reign in his overactive imagination, dragging his eyes back to her face, shocked to see a coy little smirk on her face. It almost felt like she was flirting, like she wanted him to suggest strip poker or something, but he knew he had to be just imagining things, so he shook his head to get that way too appealing fantasy out of his mind, twisting back to the cupboard and looking at their actual options.

“How about Scrabble tiles?”

There was a slight pause before she answered, “That could work.”

So he tugged the old box of Scrabble from the shelf and joined her on the floor, resting his back against the couch behind him as he set the game on the coffee table and handed her the deck of cards, ignoring how her fingers brushed against his as he did so. As she shuffled the deck, he sorted out the tiles, dividing them into vowels and consonants, then sliding half of each pile over to her. 

“Alright, vowels are one, consonants are five, ante is one? That work for you, Liu?”

She nodded. “Five card draw?” They’d mixed it up a couple of times, but they seemed to both prefer the standard.

“Sounds good.”

And so she dealt the cards. He watched her hands as she briskly alternated placing cards in front of each of them. He noticed a bit of glitter in her pink nail polish. He wasn’t sure if she knew that wasn’t exactly appropriate for court, or if she did and it was a tiny bit of rebellion. He liked to think it was the latter.

“So, how long do Apple Court cup-bearer duties last?” Riley asked as she picked up her cards, scanning them over without changing her expression. “Should you have tasted my whiskey before I had any?”

Drake lifted his eyes from the five cards he was holding to look at her. Her eyes were bright and playful, an eyebrow cocked and the corner of her lips quirked up.

“Ha. Ha,” he deadpanned, looking back at his cards, trying to decide whether he should play it safe and keep his pair of tens, or trade in one of them and to go for a flush as he tossed in an “I” as his initial bet. “Nice to see the power of being fake queen is already going to your head. Good practice for when you’re actually queen.”

She let out a little hum at that, but didn’t say anything else when she matched him with an “O.” It surprised Drake, as normally she gave as good as she got. But for whatever reason, his little teasing comment didn’t draw a response from her. He wondered if he’d struck a nerve. That hadn’t been his goal, but maybe she was worried he really saw her as just as stuck up and irritating as the rest of them. He didn’t know how that could be, because who else at court would sit on the floor and drink whiskey straight up with him? But this place tended to have a way of screwing with minds. He knew that better than anyone probably.

“Liu, I was just teasing. I know you aren’t-”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted, shaking her head lightly as she took the three cards he offered her and passed him three new ones from the deck. “It’s just… Do you really think I’ll be queen?”

He felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Of course she was just worried that Liam wasn’t as interested as she was. She didn’t care how he saw her at all. He glanced at his new cards, disappointed to find nothing useful. The pair of tens was going to have to be good enough. He tossed an “E” tile into the pot before he answered, “Liu, I’m not gonna act like a teenager and gossip about my best friend’s feelings. You are smart enough to see that-”

“That’s not what I meant. I… sometimes… I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I’m cut out to be queen, you know?”

His eyes jumped to her face, but she was staring at her hand, aggressively avoiding eye contact with him as she tossed in a “K” tile, raising his bet.

“Liu, where is this coming from?” He kept staring at her, trying to determine what she wanted here. Did she want a confidence boost and pep talk? Or did she want his honest assessment? Because while he was sure she could be an amazing queen, a breath of fresh air, bringing common sense and real world experiences to the role, he also was scared of what being queen might do to her. To be queen was to play peacemaker, to embody decorum and diplomacy at all times. And she was too fierce, too intense, too free to ever be truly happy locked away in that gilded cage.

She gave a little shrug after a moment, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “I just don’t have anything in common with any of the other suitors. I’m nothing like them at all, and it just makes me wonder if I’m right for this. They’ve trained all their lives for this shit, and if I am so different from them, then I don’t see how I am remotely the right choice.”

“Your differences from them are why you are the right choice, Liu. You aren’t sheltered or out of touch or completely stuck up your own ass.”

“I just don’t know. It feels so weird and the closer the Coronation gets, I just…” she trailed off, biting her lip and staring at him with those damn eyes. She looked lost and unsure, and he wasn’t used to that.

“Did Olivia or Madeleine say something today?” It was the only thing he could think that would have made her suddenly unsettled.

Riley shook her head aggressively. “God no! And I know better than to let anything those bitches say get to me. I’ve just been thinking about it more lately, and I just can’t picture myself sitting there with a crown on my head and a smile plastered on my face.”

Drake shrugged. She wasn’t exactly wrong, and he wasn’t going to lie to her. She would have to put on a happy face publicly a lot when she married Liam.

When he didn’t say anything, she kept going. “Sometimes it all just feels so surreal, like I’m an actress in some cheap romance movie. I don’t know… I guess the only times I feel like I’m still a real human are…” 

Her eyes dropped to the surface of the coffee table as she trailed off again. He followed her gaze, surprised to see her hand mere millimeters from his, his little finger nearly touching her thumb. It happened almost in slow motion, as he watched her thumb scoot over, brushing over the back of his hand deliberately.

Drake looked up and was shocked to find her staring at him, her gaze so intense it almost felt like it could cut through him. He didn’t know what she was looking for, what she was searching for in him, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the moment, to look away. So he stared right back. The urge to slide their hands together, the temptation to lean over and kiss her was so strong, he almost felt himself leaning towards her.

But he knew he couldn’t. It would be a massive mistake. She was just getting worn down by the stresses of the social season, and she was looking for comfort where she could find it. He knew it had to be true. Hell, the only reason she kept coming back for these midnight poker games was probably because she just needed a moment away from all the pressure and he kind of just represented the antithesis of that whole world. It had nothing to actually do with him beyond his outsider status.

She was here for Liam. He should be the one to kiss away her worries and fears, to hold her close, to reassure her. Drake was just supposed to keep an eye on her, not steal those intimate moments. So he closed his eyes, trying to break the spell it felt like she had him under with her stare as he cleared his throat, sliding his hand back. “I fold.”

He opened his eyes to find her still staring at him, an almost skeptical look in her eyes. He felt his cheeks getting slightly warm with her continued attention, so he shoved the handful of Scrabble tiles over to her, trying to move this evening back in a safer direction. “Here, just take your damn winnings so I can deal the next hand.”

She didn’t say anything as she tossed her hand onto the discard pile and handed him the deck. Out of curiosity, he flipped over those five cards. The five of clubs, the three and nine of diamonds, and the six and Jack of spades. She had nothing, had been bluffing the entire time.

“What can I say? Sometimes you just need to raise the stakes.” He glanced up at her statement and saw her watching him. “What did you have?”

“It doesn’t matter, Liu.” And with that, he shuffled his hand into the deck, dealing the cards out without saying another word. From where he was sitting, the stakes were already high enough.

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99​

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/641354616733401088/therainbowwillow

Epilogue! 

Here it is, the last part of this fic. And here is a sappy note from the author: Thank you all so, so much for reading my first-ever fanfic I’ve posted here! As I said in the very first parts, the hardest part of writing (for me) is posting what I write! To publish your art (written or drawn or sung, etc) is to show a part of yourself to the world and it is intimidating. The support you readers have given me has encouraged me to finish (me? finishing something?) this fic and has inspired me to keep posting my writing on here! Thanks a million for joining me on this trainwreck of a fanfiction.

Premise/last time (my last synopsis? AH!): Orpheus’s song succeeds. Hermes’s prophecy is fulfilled when Orpheus discovers his new immortality, at the hand of Hades. Persephone is allowed to choose where she spends her time, in Hadestown or up above. Eurydice and Orpheus look forward to their future, a lot longer than they had expected. Achilles and Patroclus are given a second chance at life and guaranteed a spot in Elysium. Hyacinthus stays with Apollo. Hermes is unemployed and tired but at least his son is alive.

It hadn’t taken Orpheus and Eurydice more than a minute to decide they wanted to go home. The Olympians had murmured amongst themselves. Gods, they had said, who do not have any desire to remain on Olympus? Sure, it wasn’t unheard of to live away from the city. But to visit only for hours? That wasn’t common. 

Hermes had understood in an instant. They had come to plead for their lives and they’d left with much more than they’d bargained for. They longed for normalcy. They’d said their good-byes to Apollo and Hyacinthus, shining with his newfound immortality. The journey home had felt short, Hermes had been half-conscious for most of it. Persephone and Hestia helped him down the ramp, leaving Olympus behind him. 

The train ride had been silent. Orpheus and Eurydice had sat side by side, hand in hand, never looking away from his bedside.

The flowers in the meadow turned their heads to Orpheus, God of Song, as he passed, though no notes touched his lips. Persephone helped Hermes inside and they’d slept. 

When he’d finally woken, Hermes found Orpheus and Eurydice outside his window, laying together in the meadow. They sat beneath a tree and Orpheus strummed his lyre, humming the notes of a new song, flowers blooming around him, warm raindrops against his cheeks. Hermes watched them from his bed, to weary to stand.

The sun, perhaps curious at the sound of Orpheus’s music burned off the clouds and a rainbow stretched across the sky. Eurydice was the first to notice. It was a novel sight after years without a spring. She pointed it out to Orpheus, who watched it, wide-eyed, and then switched to singing about the colors above him. 

...

Today, almost exactly a year after their original return, Orpheus and Eurydice would be married, in the light of spring. Orpheus stands beside his wife, sipping a glass of nectar. Eurydice frantically adjusts her veil. Orpheus sets down his drink and takes her hands in his. “Hey. You look great, love. What’s wrong?” he asks her.

“It’s just... we never could’ve done this before...” she sighs. “We could never have paid for all this. And now...”

“We won’t lose it this time,” he promises.

“I know. It’s hard to forget that we did once.”

He nods in understanding. “Let’s enjoy it while we can, lover. Sure, winter will be cold, summer will be hot, but it’s spring now!” He places his hands on her waist and sways back and forth. Eurydice smiles. She grabs his hands and spins him under her arms. 

“It’s spring,” she agrees. 

The guest list looks exactly as they’d agreed it would on the first train ride home. Hermes received the first invitation, as he still lived with the soon-to-be newlyweds. Persephone, residing nearby with her mother and son, received the second. Hyacinthus and Apollo were in attendance, and Achilles and Patroclus. Hera had blessed the wedding and Aphrodite had agreed wholeheartedly. In some stroke of madness or courage, Orpheus had sent a letter to Hades, inviting him to stop by. He hadn’t received a reply. 

Written inside the cards was indeed Eurydice’s poem, to which she had objected after the letters had been sent. Still, she’d slept with a copy of the invitation under her pillow for months.

The set-up had been easy enough. A few notes of coaxing and, as promised, the trees had laid their wedding tables. Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, had given them a wedding arch of pure light. Persephone and Demeter had provided a feast and Hermes had delivered most of their invitations. 

Apollo walks Orpheus down the isle. He trembles with anxiety. Hermes hands Eurydice off to him and he clutches her hand, beneath their arch of light. “I’m gonna forget what I’m supposed to say,” he whispers.

She squeezes his hand. “Orpheus, you aren’t gonna forget.” He nods, hoping she’s right. 

And she is, of course. “I can’t promise you fair sky above,” he vows, “Can’t promise you kind road below. But I’ll walk beside you, love. Any way the wind blows. Walk beside me.”

“Any way the wind blows,” she swears. “I will.”

Their kiss is long and filled with love. Eurydice’s fingertips brush against the thin scar across her lover’s palm. The tiny gash that had decided their forever. 

The rest of the night is marked by music. Apollo is supposed to be the one performing, but Orpheus can’t help himself. Eurydice joins in, singing beside him, and soon the crowd is cheering for the newlyweds’ song. If Apollo is jealous, he doesn’t show it. 

At Orpheus’s allowance, he leaves his position on stage and spins out a beautiful dance with Hyacinthus. Apollo notices his lover has grown his hair out. He has it tied back in a wreath of purple hyacinths, revealing the gash over his eye, the mark of his death he’d always kept so desperately hidden. Apollo brushes his finger over the scar. Hyacinthus looks away. “Hey, I like it,” Apollo says.

“I wasn’t sure about it. I... I used to wear my hair like this. You know... before? I thought maybe-”

“I love it.” Apollo silences him with a kiss. 

The wedding celebrations carry on long into the night. Hermes looks on as Eurydice and Orpheus share their final dance of the day. Somehow, by some miracle, their tale had turned out this time. 

“Hermes,” Orpheus takes a seat beside him, as Eurydice prepares a snack inside. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Hermes pulls his son into his arms. “I wish I could’ve done more,” he says. He opens Orpheus’s palm, examining his scar. “I wish it every day.”

Orpheus shakes his head. “You couldn’t have done more. I couldn’t have asked for a better father. You saved my life. Endured Hades’s wrath in my place.”

“And you saved me in turn. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.” 

“I wish... you hadn’t gone through so much for me,” Orpheus whispers

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Orpheus,” he says, honestly. They sit in silence for a moment.

“Do you still feel it?” Orpheus asks, suddenly.

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What?”

“His wrath.”

“Do you?” Hermes inquires.

“I never felt it the way you did. It would always... end. A few seconds of agony and it would all be over,” he says.

“That’s not an answer.”

He hesitates a moment. “I do,” Orpheus admits. “Aches and pains, bad dreams, however it manifests, I can always tell.”

Hermes nods his sympathy. “I understand.”

“You were worse. You... you were asleep for days, weakened for weeks. And when you woke... you looked older, so tired. I was afraid for you,” Orpheus tells him.

“Finding you in that cell, Orpheus... that’s how I felt. I wish I could take all of that pain away from you,” Hermes says.

“I’ll manage,” Orpheus promises. “However long it takes.”

“I know you will.”

Eurydice returns with a plate of fruit and glasses of nectar. She hands one to her husband and the other to her father-in-law. “Happy zero-th anniversary, Orpheus!”

He blushes a deep gold. “We’re married!” He remembers. “It still hasn’t sunk in yet!”

Eurydice looks up at the full moon overhead. The scent of cherry blossom is on the air. She sits beside Orpheus and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re here,” she tells him, softly.

“I am too.”

————————————————————-

Achilles and Patroclus established their residence in the countryside. In thanks for their protection of her daughter, Demeter provided bountiful harvests, year after year. They sat beneath their fig orchard and watched the stars, rejecting offers of glory in trade for the peace and quiet they longed for.

Decades passed and like all good things, their quiet lives came to an end. Achilles was the first to return to Hadestown. He fell ill in late winter. Patroclus never once left his side, providing food and drink and finally strong medicine until his lover breathed his final breath.

Patroclus watched the pyre go up in flames. He collected the ashes in a golden urn, half filled. His nights were cold and lonely and the harvest felt tedious. He watched the stars alone each night, just as he had promised he would. Finally, his time came.

...

He wakes, feeling unrefreshed. He pulls the cover back over himself and closes his eyes again. “Patroclus,” voice from behind him calls. A dream, he knows. He’d had plenty before. He shuts his eyes tighter.

“Patroclus,” Achilles says again. “Mind looking at me? It’s been a while. I missed you.”

Patroclus rolls over. His lover stands before him, young and healthy in a small bedroom. “Achilles?” he mutters. “This isn’t real.”

He prepares to turn away. Achilles takes his hand. His eyes widen at the touch. “No, Patroclus. You’re here!”

“Where ‘here’? Achilles, what is this?” he asks.

“Welcome to Elysium!” Achilles exclaims, taking a seat beside him. “Hades kept his promise.”

Patroclus blinks. “I’m... dead?”

Achilles nods. “Yes. Now we get to stay here. For real this time. I made Hades swear it, on the River Styx.” He brushes the hair out of Patroclus’s eyes. “If you’d like, I can show you around, but I’d rather you rest first. Dying is tiring work.”

Patroclus sits upright. “Achilles... I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I was afraid when Persephone brought you in that something was wrong. She told me that it was common, for shades who died in their sleep to stay asleep for days, even weeks,” he explains. “It wasn’t particularly comforting. I’m glad you’re awake.”

“I didn’t have coins to cross the Styx!” Patroclus realizes.

“I paid your fare.”

“What? How? You weren’t on the banks with me.”

Achilles shrugs. “Persephone told me she’d seen you so I worked on the factory assembly lines for a few days until I could afford to bring you over. I bet she would’ve done it anyway if I hadn’t scrounged together the change.”

“Thank you,” he says, gratefully.

“It wasn’t too bad. I hadn’t worked for years. Kind of refreshing, honestly.”

“Years?” Patroclus asks, alarmed.

“No one in Elysium works all that often. In the rest of Hadestown, most shades work part-time, with two weeks’ vacation to Elysium annually, plus weekends,” Achilles says. “And... oh, I shouldn’t tell you until you’re ready to see for yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Patroclus insists. “Please tell me.”

“The sky. It’s not the overworld, but it has its own beauty. It’s quite impressive, and it isn’t even finished. I guess if you’d like we could-”

“Yes!” Patroclus exclaims. “I watched the stars. Every night. It wasn’t the same without you, my love.”

Achilles helps him to his feet and guides him through the house. Through the door of their cozy bedroom, down a short hallway, they step down a flight of stairs and out the front door. It opens to a landscape of rolling hills under otherworldly green lights. The stars are swirls in the sky, illuminated in strange colors. “Stars?” he whispers in awe.

“Hades stopped trying to recreate the overworld. He made it... something else. It worked, clearly. Come, sit.” He shows Patroclus to a well-used patch of grass beneath a fruit tree and lowers his lover to the ground.

Patroclus twirls a blade of grass between his fingers. “This is real,” he observes.

“Orpheus’s song does reach down here. And Persephone keeps everything growing, especially this time of year, springtime in the underground. When she’s with Hades, it’s like summer. Underworld summer. Patroclus, I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it really is-”

“It’s incredible.” Patroclus’s lips touch Achilles’s and neither man pulls away, not for an eternity.

----(Decades prior to the deaths of Achilles and Patroclus)----

It had taken Persephone over two years to make her decision. She’d felt bad to keep her husband waiting all this time, but living up on top was bliss after all those long winters. It was summer of the third year when she finally returned.

...

Hermes arrives at her new residence, this one closer to Hadestown, looking awful. For a moment she fears the worst. That her husband had torn up the world all over again. But what he tells her is more frightening.

“Persephone, this summer’s been too long,” he announces. “Orpheus is powerful, but not this good. He’s been singing day and night to keep the weather in check. Singing for months There’s a spring and a fall and a winter, but it won’t last long. Next year, I’m afraid the crops will burn or-”

Horror fills her. “Is he alright?” She asks. “I knew it was getting hotter, but I never thought...”

Hermes sighs. “I’ve seen worse. But it’s wearing on him. He’s too tired to get out of bed these days. Eurydice’s there to help, of course, but he can’t do this forever, Seph. Not even a god can remain eternally awake.”

“I’ll go,” she agrees.

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m asking. Your mother can control the seasons. With her help-”

“No, I’m leaving. I’ve made my choice. Tell your poor boy I’ll come by one last time. Let him stop singing.”

Hermes accepts this. They walk up the railroad track in silence.

He gently opens the door of his and Orpheus’s residence. He hears Eurydice, giving words of encouragement.

“It’s been months,” Orpheus says, his voice raspy with strain. “I dunno how long I can stay up. Even gods sleep.”

“I know, lover. But you’ve done so well. Don’t give up now.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “Just... a few more weeks, right? No,” he corrects himself, “Months. It’ll be fall soon. Then winter, then spring.”

“Spring is break time.”

“I know. It’s only... it’s two seasons away.”

Hermes hears her miserable sigh. “You’ve been brave, Orpheus, to keep fighting.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I know.”

He gives a little yelp of pain.

“Sorry. I should’ve changed these hours ago.”

Hermes opens the door. Orpheus looks up from his bloodied fingers. He smiles. “Hey Hermes! I’m sorry, I have nothing for us to eat. The song stopped producing a few days ago and I’m struggling with the lyre now that my fingers... well... It’ll be harvest soon. It won’t be ambrosia, but it’ll have to do.”

“No.” Persephone sits beside him. “It won’t have to do. We can fix this. I’m going back to Hadestown. I won’t be long. Spring always returns.”

“You don’t have to do this!” Orpheus exclaims, “My song will be enough until it’s spring again. Don’t go back. Please.”

“I miss him, Orpheus. I do. I’m going... home.” It feels strange to call Hadestown ‘home’. It was most often known to Persephone as ‘hell on earth.’

“Only if this is what you want, Persephone,” he says.

“I do. Please get some rest. Starting now.”

He smiles wearily as he leans back against his pillows. “Thank you.”

“I love you, kiddo. I’ll see you when you bring back the springtime next year,” she promises.

He gives a little nod and he’s asleep, almost the second his head hits the pillow.

Hermes helps Persephone onto the train. Charon drives now, rather than himself. “Take care of Orpheus for me, will you? And give this to Dionysus.” She hands him a envelope. “He can come visit whenever he likes.”

“I will. If you need anything, just send a message.”

“See ya next spring!” She waves as the train pulls out of the station.

...

She remembers Orpheus, almost lifeless, collapsed in a booth just like the one she sits in now. Only three years. It feels like a century. How much he’s been through, she thinks. How much he’s changed. He isn’t the young man who’d collapsed at her feet in Hades’s throne room all those years ago. She has no doubt in her mind that he would’ve sung ‘til spring if she hadn’t gone.

The routine of the train ride is something of a comfort. She watches the scenery fly by outside her window. Green fields, nearly ripe for harvest. All thanks to Orpheus.

The train grinds to a halt. She steps into Hadestown, beyond the wall for the first time in so long. Bluish lights illuminate the stone walls of the city from above. The shadows cast by the buildings aren’t so harsh as they had once been. She raises an eyebrow.

She follows the streets down into the heart of Hadestown, hell on Earth. A young couple passes her, hand in hand.

“Hey, miss?” A woman calls. She turns. “I haven’t seen you around. Are you new here?” the girl asks.

“I- no. Not really.” Persephone looks up at the city skyline. Her husband’a tower is no where in sight. “Where’s the tower?”

“The tower?” The woman looks confused for a second. “Oh yeah! I’ve heard the stories! They took it down during the revolution. You want a glass of wine, miss? If not, the bar’s always open if-”

“Hush,” Persephone cuts her off. “If we’re discovered, there won’t be anywhere left.”

The woman’s brow furrows. “Discovered by who? Mister Hades frequents our establishment.”

“We can’t be talking about the same man,” she says, astounded.

“You sure you don’t want a drink? I’m new here, so maybe someone will know more than me.”

Persephone nods, numbly. The woman leads her down the same street she’d walked a hundred times. Instead of a thin, secluded allyway, the entrance to her old bar is well-lit and wide open. It’s exterior is painted with a mural of carnations. She steps inside and is recognized almost instantly.

“Lady Persephone!” The bartender calls. “We’ve missed you down here!”

“Ampelos,” she recognizes the young man, a lover of her son, Dionysus, and the best bartender around. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has! We didn’t think you’d come back!”

“Yet here I am. Where’s the tower, my friend? Or the throne hall, I suppose.” She inquires. “I should find my husband.”

“I’m sure Hades will stop by soon enough. Dionysus’s spring wine.” He hands her a glass. “Hades kept the recipe.”

“There’s no vineyards down below,” she corrects him. “How much are you smuggling?”

“None.” He shrugs. “Orpheus’s song changed a lot.”

“Did my husband put you up to this?”

“No,” he answers. “It’s been different since the revolution. We’re still rebuilding, so there’s plenty to do, but having our memories back is nice. So are the shorter shifts. Five day weeks, nine-to-four. The weekends, we do as we like and our two weeks’ annual vacation time can be spent whenever we please. Pay isn’t half bad, though we’re campaigning for more currently, hence the flower. It’s the symbol of our revolution.”

She blinks in disbelief. “Funny.”

“No, I’m not joking,” he protests. “Things have changed.”

Persephone shakes her head. “Not Hades. Hades is unmovable. He gave us a chance because that song made him soft. Nothing more.”

“You’re wrong. He didn’t come this far alone, true. It took a lot of willpower and good minds to convince him to let go of his iron grip on Hadestown, but we did it,” he explains.

The bell chimes at the door. Persephone freezes in fear at the sight of her husband. She’d dreamt it a hundred times, that he’d take away her last safe haven. “Hades,” she pleads.

He stares at her. “Persephone?” He waits for someone to laugh, tell him it had all been a joke. No one does. He moves closer. He doesn’t dare to touch her. He sees her eyes well with tears. “A glass of wine, Ampelos,” he commands.

Her lips part. “You know him?”

Ampelos shrugs. “Like I said. He’s a regular.”

“Hades...”

He cracks a smile. “I suppose I do drink more than I once did. I hoped you wouldn’t judge, Seph- sorry, Persephone,” he corrects himself.

She takes his hands. “Hades... you let us go. You let them go. It’s true?”

He nods. “I promised you change.”

“I didn’t think...”

“I don’t blame you. Persephone... why did you return?”

“The weather became hotter and hotter the longer I stayed. I couldn’t let the world die for me,” she says. “And Hades? I... I missed you.

“You made your choice?” His voice hasn’t lost its old commanding tone.

She closes her eyes and exhales. “I have. I made a promise too. I told them up on the surface I’d be back by spring.”

“I told you I wouldn’t keep you here,” he says, almost irritated. “But I understand your doubts.” Hades sips his wine.

“I’ll stay,” she promises. 

“For me or for them?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admits.

He nods. “Will you walk with me?”

Persephone takes his hand and leaves the bar behind her. The streets are cleaner, the air is easier on her lungs. The city is lit by beams of blue light, dazzling the buildings in colorful rays. Carnations are painted on some of the walls, leftover from the riots. “I stopped trying to make it look like it does up above,” Hades informs her. 

“I noticed.”

“Do you like it?” He stops to ask her.

“Yes.”

“The shades seem to prefer it too,” he adds.

“They’re happy, Hades,” she tells him.

“I feared they only kept up the ruse around me to save their skins.”

“No. It’s genuine. They smile. They laugh. I never thought I’d see the day,” she remarks.

They continue walking, past the crumbled remains of factories and newly opened restaurants. “Where are we going, Hades?” Persephone finally asks.

He shrugs. “Where do you want to go?”

She’s surprised at her own request. “Home,” she says. 

“It’s gone,” he responds, bluntly. “The tower fell before I returned.”

“Then take me to wherever you’re staying.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I have no home. I held off. You were never happy in the tower. I wanted you to choose where we should reside.”

“I don’t understand,” Persephone says. “You don’t have a home on the surface. You live here year round. Why should my six months matter more than your twelve?” 

“You’re my wife.”

“And I’m telling you to pick a place. So do it.”

He guides her down the street in silence, away from the center of town. She recognizes the route he’s taking, remembers the last time she’d come this way. It had been no leisurely stroll then. She instinctively reaches for her pocket, retracting her hand when she remembers she’d left her flask on the surface. 

The tightly packed streets open to an empty field, a single dilapidated building at the far edge. Persephone carefully steps over the glass ruins of her now-fallen greenhouses. She rests her hand upon the door of the last building that stands. She exhales and pushes it open. 

The scent of flowers strikes her. Her jaw drops. The garden blooms before her, as if she’s on the surface. As if the vines cannot tell that the sun is a million miles out of reach. 

“Hades...” she whispers, rapt.

“It will improve in your care,” he says. 

“You did this?”

“I did my best,” he tells her, modestly. “Orpheus’s song does reach us.” He pinches a dead leaf between his fingers. “But it’s been quiet lately.”

She takes a seat on a bench in the center of the garden and pats the spot beside her. Hades joins her. “Last time I was here, I used these vines to strangle the man you sent to attack me,” she reminds him. “After he shot Orpheus, that is. I was too late. As always,” she scoffs. Hades says nothing. “No, you look at me, husband.” He turns towards her. “You’re trying. But it ain’t easy to forgive.”

He nods in quiet understanding. “What happened to him once I left?”

She shrugs. “Hermes could tell you more than I could. I spent time with the three of them when things got rough, just after we got home from Olympus. It took Orpheus a long time to get back on his feet, even with the help of your ambrosia.” 

She sighs, remembering those long, long weeks. “He’d sleep all day and wake up screaming. Some nights, he wouldn’t speak to us; he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong. He’d just cry and cry until he lost his voice or I gave him something to knock him out. It was unbearable. But we bore it, Eurydice and I, while Hermes slept. Eventually he improved, but even now, some days are harder than others.” 

“Whatever you did to him, it never went away,” she accuses him. “The same for Hermes. You couldn’t tell by looking at them, not anymore. But sometimes... sometimes I know it wears on them.”

Hades stares at the vines at his feet. “I would take it all back if I could,” he says, quietly.

“I know you would. I wish I could relieve their burdens, more than you know.”

“You have burdens of your own,” he reminds her. “The weight of their strife is mine to carry.”

She wonders if he wants her to refute him. “Yes, it is,” she simply agrees. “No amount of apologies, no amount of reform will ever take away that pain.” She stands and turns her back on him. 

He reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “I know. I’m not asking you to forgive. I know you cannot forget. But we have another chance, Persephone.”

“I don’t know what I want, Hades.” 

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

The Dancer-Chapter Four

                              A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Four

Claire sat on a high-pile, soft rug with children circled around her. Jamie noticed they all leaned forward from their Indian-style positions, eyes wide and staring at Claire. They were all on their trusted ponies flying across the Arizona desert, running after the bad guys who robbed the train. Claire did her best to narrate the story with inflections of fear and desperation while the story became real to those around her.

Jamie made a trip to his office and was waiting for Claire when the wee ones ran to their mothers, laden with purchases from the store. The room emptied out in ten minutes and Jamie flopped down on an overstuffed chair. He handed a baggie full of orange slices to Claire.

He noticed that her hair was still down and today she wore a soft dress with a bright colored flower pattern. The skirt was almost to her ankles so sitting on the floor, being eye to eye with the kids was easy. He looked at her approvingly, happy she had embraced her new look.

Claire noticed Jamie hanging around during her Storytime and book club meetings and he always kept her after for conversation and shared food. She wasn’t sure she understood what he needed but if she could answer his questions and understand his conversation she just went with the flow.

“I’m leavin Claire. It’s time for a new manager to take over this store so I can get to Glasgow.”

“I’m sure you will be missed, Jamie.”

“I’ve been doin this for the past nine years. This is the last store I will build. Once it’s up and running I start a new job, new level, and maybe dinna move around so much. Even if I’m offered a corporate position it willna be here in Scotland. More likely Germany or London.”

Claire did not understand where the conversation was going so she just kept up for his sake. Jamie was always so confident about the book business, but she thought it sounded like a lonely existence and wondered if he felt the same. She had never known a man more beautiful than Jamie Fraser and thought it unlikely that he spent time alone if he didn’t want to. So why did he come to see her dance? Week after week leaving hundreds of pounds for her.

“Claire, I want ye to consider taking over for me, as manager of the store. Ye’ve owned a bookstore, this is just bigger. I trust ye lass and that is more important than any experience or degree. Please think about it and we can talk again in a few days.”

“How about tonight? There is so much I don’t know.” She watched him intently.

“Sorry lass. I have plans tonight and canna break em.”

Claire sped across town and found a grumpy Madu in her studio, pacing like an irritated bull. He could look quite intimidating Claire thought. He was over six foot with a muscular frame and a mop of black curls fell against his cheeks and forehead. A beautiful man, she thought, watching him in the seconds before he noticed her.

She could feel his interest in her, barely contained, ready to sweep her off her feet. They would make a good match she assumed. His family would embrace the orphan in her and Madu would show her the heights of passion she had only dreamed of. The union made perfect sense, but she had not fallen in love with him the way she always dreamed it would be.

Claire had only one reference for passion and love, the face of Jamie Fraser when she danced for him. She noticed the change in his look, his posture, his gaze that touched her in a place she had not known before. What started out as punishment for someone she hated had become a quest that she was ashamed of, but she continued, desperate to know what smoldered behind his eyes.

Claire jerked out of her reverie when Madu called to her. Her head flew up and she rattled off excuses for being late, running to dress for her dance. Madu gave her a knowing look and waited for the student to stand before him.

Claire considered Jamie’s offer to manage the bookstore. Her popularity for exhibition dancing and private parties had grown, as did her fees for such things. While the good people of Edinburgh were going to bed each night, she was draped in veils doing what she loved. She would help the new manager as much as she could but decided to decline Jamie’s offer.

As Jamie’s final days in Edinburgh grew near, he spent more time at the restaurant watching her dance. Claire tried to imagine his absence in her life, in the audience, and at the bookstore, as he went on with his life without her. The promise and desire behind his eyes would remain unknown to her and the blame was hers alone. If she had told him from the beginning that she was the dancer things would have gone differently. But she was hell-bent on revenge at that time and then it was too late. She tried to think of a dozen ways to tell him the truth but nothing would hide her betrayal, so she accepted her fate.

Jamie accepted Claire’s decision not to manage the bookstore like a gentleman and told her he was a phone call away if she needed anything. He promised to visit often as the new store was just a town away.

When he brought the new manager around for everyone to meet, Claire decided she was looking into the eyes of a human Bambi. John Grey was handsome on Jamie’s level but in a softer, more refined way. His smile was something to behold and she almost lost herself in it until she looked at Jamie and felt his power burn her on the inside.

Jamie was shaking hands and laughing with the staff, but he caught Claire in a moment of weakness and the look on her face made the hair on his neck stand up. She pulled away from the group and disappeared. He looked for her later wanting to spend some time with her before he left but she was nowhere to be found.

Claire drove home to get ready for her dance tonight. It felt like she was full of adrenalin with that awful feeling of impending doom. She knew this was about Jamie and his last night in Edinburgh. What ever did she want from the poor man who never received as much as a nod from her?

“Geillis! I have a problem. There is a man I have danced for numerous times. The way he looks at me makes my knees weak and I can barely keep it together. He is leaving town tomorrow and I may not see him again.”

“Okay Claire, you have my attention and I’m waiting for the problem. He’s married, he’s gay, he’s homeless, what?”

“No. None of those things. He’s perfect, and single, and moving to another town after tonight. I want to know him, that way, before I lose the opportunity.”

“That way?” Geillis was quiet for a minute. “Do ye mean ye want to fuck him, Claire?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then do it.”

Geillis caught on quickly that Claire needed help so she pledged to be there right after work, and they would make a plan.

Claire spent a quiet afternoon thinking about what she was doing and realized she could not stop herself if she wanted to. She spent an hour in a hot tub removing all her body hair, even her most intimate places. She was painstaking about her makeup, eyelashes, and bright red lipstick. The oil she smoothed over her skin was from Cairo, a gift from Madu. It heightened her senses when she dabbed it between her legs until she almost fell completely apart.

Pulling her most prized costume from her closet she zipped it into a garment bag for her second show, when she would touch Jamie and he would touch her.

Geillis whistled at the costume Claire chose and said she was getting hot just looking at it.

“Claire, relax. If ye want to fuck this guy and ye look like that, and he’s interested, then just let it happen.”

Geillis was winding the string of chains around Claire’s hips and looked at her friend.

“Ye know sex doesna bring love, right Claire?”

Claire nodded her head and raised her arms for the chain bra top Geillis was pulling onto her chest. It was time for her second dance and the invitation for Jamie to come to her dressing room. Claire felt the throbbing between her legs and could not wait for whatever was on the other side of that desire in his eyes.

When the spotlight hit the rows of chains, Claire sparkled like a thousand diamonds. Her body undulated up out of the fog layer Omar cranked out. Her performance was raw, and sexual, the best of her career because she would never have a greater prize than Jamie Fraser to dance for.

Jamie sat transfixed, unable to move as he watched the undulating hips and popping breasts promise forbidden love, the kind he would trade his soul for. As she spun in his direction the chains flew out at waist level looking punishing for any man who ventured to close to her. He watched her spin away from him and in a magical moment, he saw a card left on the table.

I await you, is all it said, and Jamie shook his head wondering if he imagined it was an invitation. He walked to the stage door and knocked softly. Diners were still eating but didn’t seem to notice him waiting for the door to open.

A warm hand pulled him into the dressing room which glowed with dozens of candles that smelled amazing and exotic. He bent to Claire and kissed her softly, noticing her chest rise and fall with her deep breathing. Whether from arousal or nerves he would take his time and see her relaxed and needy before he feasted on her body.

“What is your name lass?”

In that instant, Claire’s plan popped like a bubble. Holy crap, she thought, I have to talk to him? Why the hell didn’t I think this through? Her panic was rising, gripping her throat to choke her for being so selfish and concupiscent. In her panic, she could not think of a way to control the situation. She was bested and she knew it, so she just stopped moving and hung her head. She had heard enough Arabic to string some words together and show Jamie the door.

He looked confused but he left, and she locked the door behind him. Claire was too exhausted to cry or do anything else. She laid on the sofa waiting to hear Jamie’s truck drive away, praying he would not come back with more talking. She closed her eyes and imagined his touch, above her, beside her, behind her. Her body craved him and the sublime physical joining that would free her from the mundane world she lived in. Why had she convinced herself this was even possible? Because at the moment it felt like her life depended on it.

Claire heard Omar knock softly on the dressing room door, probably waiting to walk her out. When the door swung open Jamie lifted her up and kissed her quiet as he pulled the breath out of her lungs and every thought from her mind.

“No talking lass, just let me kiss you and touch you a bit then I go, without a word. There’s a reason you invited me here and a reason I came, that’s enough for me.” His kiss seared her lips with his heat and his hands ran over her body like he was touching the holy grail.

Claire twisted the buttons open and pushed his shirt off. She gazed at his muscled chest and arms feeling herself blush when he chuckled at her reaction. The kissing continued until Claire’s mind and body belonged to James Fraser. When she pulled her bra top off he held her away to look at her, then he embraced her, skin on skin, tilting her head up to kiss him again.

Claire knew the chains and veils would not easily come off without instruction and she did not want him to stop kissing so she pulled them off and stepped out of the tiny pants.

Jamie feasted on her perfect skin and lithe form watching the candlelight bounce off the flat planes of her body. He was speed stripping to catch up with her nakedness, wanting to feel her inside and out for as long as she let him.

Claire laid on the sofa, arms raised to him, mouth open, chest heaving. Jamie burned the sight of her into his brain to keep forever. His large warm hands caressed every inch of her from neck to feet as he laid soft kisses in their path. She felt his hot breath on her nipples before he filled his mouth and sucked to make her remember. When she was powerless to move, he pushed her arms over her head and wrapped several chains around her wrists before he stole the remaining part of her brain. His kiss started softly as his knuckles ran down her body, over her nipples, brushing against her core.

Each minute was more exciting and pleasurable than the last as Jamie swept her into an erotic fog that shot firecrackers to her brain. When Jamie’s knuckles started their return trip, he nudged her legs apart and dragged a finger up her fold. Claire bucked in his arms and she struggled to loosen the chains on her wrists. His long arm pulled the chains tight just before she felt his beard on the soft skin of her inner thigh. Pulling her legs apart he placed what felt like dozens of soft kisses between her legs, and inner thighs. Every few minutes the tip of his tongue would touch her bud nearly rocking her off the couch.

Claire didn’t think she could take much more without self-combusting. She felt Jamie shift his position and his hot, wet tongue slid into her, torturously slow as she gasped and arched her back seeking friction.

He would not be hurried with the beautiful dancer and intended to make this last, for both their sake. Claire was immobilized, without hands to distract him, so he set a slow pace and was thrilled the way her body reacted to him. He pressed his tongue deeper into her and his gigantic erection grazed the side of the sofa, hot and angry for being ignored.

Two long fingers replaced his tongue and he felt the walls of her pussy clamp down as he moved them in and out. She moaned and rocked his fingers feeling like she would explode. Jamie felt joy and satisfaction watching her fall apart. He lowered his head and flicked her bud viciously knowing the instant she left the earth. No longer on the plane of mortal man, she kissed angels and fell through layers of sparkling, raw sensation.

She felt the chains loosen around her wrist as Jamie kissed her deeply, preventing her full return to sanity. He wanted more, and she wanted to give it. He carefully negotiated the small sofa, pulling her knees up, creating a space to lay his long body as his tip pressed lightly against her opening. The intensity of his kissing made Claire’s hips rise to find him. Jamie smiled at her heroic effort to squirm under him until her wet pussy was pressing his tip into her.

He held her hips still and slowly pushed into her, watching her expression, feeling her energy shift to acquiescence. She surrendered to his strength, his need, his promise. As Jamie pushed into her he laid claim to her mind, soul, and body. His hard thrusting was banging into her clit making her lose her mind. Jamie kissed her deeply and felt her body grab him as her back arched tightly against his chest.

Jamie watched Claire’s orgasm second by second. She was wild, uninhibited, and completely under his spell. He released the iron grip on himself, slamming into her at least a dozen times, fearing he would lose his mind from the stinging in his balls.

The banging cymbals leading up to his release suddenly stopped as he was rocked to the core with pulsing pleasure. He floated back to her and nuzzled her neck. They were slippery with sweat and Jamie gathered her under him to keep her warm while she dozed. When she would startle awake her arms clutched him around his neck like she didn’t want to be without him, making his heart ache for her.

Jamie laid very still, watching Claire succumb to her exhaustion and kissing her quiet when she startled. He did not want this to end and letting her sleep added precious moments with her. He pulled her into a massive cuddle that overwhelmed her sluggish senses and she slept deeply for several hours while Jamie watched.

He was not used to the intensity of their lovemaking that now filled his head. Remembering her body quaking under him, mouth and eyes open, chest heaving while he pushed his full length into her. He could feel his erection growing until it throbbed for her again. She startled and grabbed him wrapping her arms around him to hold him to her.

Jamie pulled her to his chest and wiggled under her as his large hands held her gorgeous butt against him. She kissed him like her life depended on it and when he broke the kiss, she chased his mouth until he was putty in her hands. When she felt his tip against her, she pushed back until he slipped into her with a gasp.

Control temporarily lost, he wrapped his hands around her shoulders pulling down and pushing his cock deeper inside her. Jamie almost came when he looked into the eyes of a woman who would shred this couch to get to him. She needed to come, like a powder cake ready to explode and only he could make it happen.

Jamie grabbed her shoulders and lifted her upper body, so she straddled him. He groaned when her body opened to him, letting him sink into her warm wetness. Claire glared at him, panting, hands splayed on his chest. The feeling was so intense she couldn’t help but move her hips until she felt Jamie’s strong hands on top of her shoulders, holding her down. He sat up so they were face to face and pressed her shoulders down again feeling his dick go deeper into her body. He watched her eyes, only inches from his own. She didn’t know what was happening and no longer cared. She trusted Jamie to see her safely through the explosions she knew were coming.

We are almost there love, he thought, as he pushed her shoulders down and pressed his erection even deeper. Claire was wide-eyed and wanton when he impaled her, and he knew she had not been touched like this before.

Claire knew something was about to happen, good or bad she was powerless to stop it. He touched her cheek and smiled, then he touched her throbbing core and watched Claire’s world spin out of control. She threw her head back and rocked him with her hips until she slowly came back to earth. Her eyes opened and she smiled her gratitude, breathing deeply. He touched it again and she flew even higher in a long continuous moan as her hips rocked his cock again.

Jamie could not hold out any longer and flipped them pushing her legs over his shoulders for a dozen thrusts and stopped. Claire watched him get to his knees and push her legs open. He stared at her core for a long minute before he pulled her pelvis up and entered her again, watching the erotic show as his cock slid into her, over and over again until he shuttered and exploded deep inside her.

Jamie collapsed next to her panting for his life and refusing to let her go. He felt her hands on his cheeks as she kissed his face a dozen times, and then he felt nothing.

Some hours later Jamie woke up and smiled at the curled angel he held. He was leaving for his next job in Glasgow and wondered if he would ever see her again. He felt his heart swell at her trust and mutual interest. When he pushed the hair out of her face she smiled and pulled a lungful of air and opened her eyes.

Claire woke up to panic as the room was filling with light from the sunrise. Jamie could see the panic on her face and jumped up to dress quickly. He promised no words, so he kissed her softly and left.

She laid still with her heart ramming until she heard Jamie’s truck roar onto the road. Ten minutes later she was brave enough to get up and pull her sweatsuit on before disposing of the evidence of their magical night. She wondered if she would ever again feel a man touch her like Jamie did.

Claire looked at her watch and counted the hours until Geillis would come to get this wig off her head. Geillis added dots of the glue around the entire wig, so she didn’t worry about it slipping. Now she couldn’t get even a finger under it. She dropped her keys on the kitchen table heading for the shower. Raising her leg over the tub she saw warm liquid from Jamie run down her inner thigh. She watched it until her tears rolled down her cheeks and she pressed her face into a towel and sobbed.

Jamie pulled into Lallybroch and noticed Ian’s car in the driveway again. He looked up at Jenny’s window forming a possible reason before shaking his head and laughing. “It’ll never happen,” he said out loud. Ian was like a family member. Since they were lads Lallybroch was his second home and he often met up with friends and left his car overnight.

An hour later, Jamie tossed his suitcase, and briefcase in the back of his truck, the garment bag with his suits was hung inside the cab. With Glasgow just an hour away it hardly felt like he was going anywhere. How odd, he thought, that his last project would be in Scotland and so close to his home.

Once his big black truck was pointed at Glasgow, he sat back and let his mind drift back to the trauma he felt leaving home the first year. He hugged Jenny for a full minute and looked at her crying eyes trying to be brave. His Da shook his hand beaming with pride and fighting his own tears. Jamie walked away to board a very large plane that would fly him to Ann Arbor Michigan where he would build his first store.

The odds were stacked in his favor thanks to eight gentlemen that knew what factors influenced success and correctly matched the project to the manager. Putting Jamie on the other side of the world, where English was spoken, the winters were long and cold, in a college town with a superior football team, and thousands of coeds was no accident.

The next year was Italy, after that France, then back to America, England, Australia, Italy again, Germany, Edinburgh, and now Glasgow. He always came home to Lallybroch to rest. Sometimes it was three months, many years it was less.

Jamie’s natural charisma pulled people to him like moths to flame so he never felt lonely, or afraid. He saw his life as a never-ending string of new experiences, new challenges, and new people to meet, which became his Achilles heel.

Jamie remembered her still, the girl he cared for in Ann Arbor, the girl he left behind and then missed for the entire next year. It was a lesson to his heart to stay away from those most interesting, the most lovable, the most anything. He would find a lass or two in each town and move on quickly when they wanted more from him. It was a hard thing to do because he craved intimacy and feeling connected to someone. As his Scotland friends paired up and became a husband, Jamie realized he was going against the natural order, denying himself a heart to love. It got harder each year, but he never faltered from his plan. He would not leave a string of broken hearts in his wake.

The dancer crept into his thoughts and in his mind he reached for her, lovingly, protectively. Well, looks like yer comin to Glasgow with me. I thought maybe last night would cure me but here ye are. I’m no sorry. Ye are a rare gift to the world and I dinna want to let ye go. Not yet.

Geillis was losing patience, “hold still or I’ll spill this acetone in yer eye!”

She wasn’t feeling charitable this morning after being roused from her newest squeeze by a begging Claire. She dabbed the Q-tip into the glue as she pulled the hair from Claire’s skin.

“I hope the sex was worth all this.” She paused for a minute. “This is when ye tell me all about it lass.”

Claire stared out her kitchen window with a blank face seeming not to hear her friend's inquiry. She felt him touch her skin with warm hands that made magic happen the whole night. She tasted salty sweat from kissing his face when he was still far away spinning in pleasure.

“Claire!”

“What!”

“I’m talkin to ye lass. I’m gonna pull it off, ye ready?”

The wig pulled away and Claire instantly felt ten degrees cooler to her relief.

“Meet me at the wig store after work. Ye canna wear that one until yer skin heals. We can find somethin else to use. I have to break land-speed records to make it to work on time. Sorry to leave ye with the mess.”

Claire crawled into her bed where she would dream of copper-colored curls that tickled her nose, and thighs, and back.

For the next month, she spent a lot of time at the bookstore helping the new manager get settled. When she heard little voices yell her name she brightened considerably and watched tiny bodies run to the glass room with grateful mothers behind them.

The second month came and went but the bookstore still felt cold and sterile to her. John was becoming a dear friend who craved her company because he was alone in a strange city. Compared to Jamie, it was child’s play to avoid John’s constant questions about her other job. Claire was rarely bothered with anxiety anymore, so life went on with no great highs and no great lows.

When Claire was reading to her pint-sized fans she reached across the circle and pretended to grab someone's nose as little people erupted in laughter. Claire giggled back to her sitting position and froze when she heard his voice. Her heart was ramming and her ears almost hurt as they were seeking another sound wave, his wave, his cadence, and burr.

The story was over and the kids piled out to their waving mothers. Claire’s legs were hugged tight and tiny sets of eyes looked up to her smiling and waving. She waved back as the last few mothers led their children toward the exit. And there he was.

Claire felt the air evacuate from the room as she watched his genuine smile and outstretched arms. She leaned into him, smelling something lovely and familiar, wanting so badly to touch his curls and face. She felt his vibrating laugh when she hugged him and then quickly righted herself back to the friend zone tucking away her wants and desires for someone forbidden.

She smiled when John or Jamie made a joke but otherwise busied herself with cleaning up her room and flicking the lights off. She walked quickly to the exit and felt strong hands grab her arm pulling her to a halt. She knew that touch, those big hands, and felt herself shake inside.

“How is the new project going, Jamie?”

“It’s been a bitch, still is, but I’m done-in from all that anxiety and deadline insomnia.” He smiled at her, so relaxed and looking genuinely happy to see her. “I’m goin back tomorrow once I conclude some business here in Edinburgh, part of which is you.”

Claire looked up at him trying to look coy and relaxed. “What pray tell would that be?”

“Next weekend is Easter, Claire. I want ye to come to Lallybroch and spend the day with Jenny and me. Will ye come?”

“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you. And John? Will he be joining us too?”

“Who?”

Claire tilted her head to the upstairs office where John would be sweating bullets waiting for Jamie to announce the real reason he was here and hoping to have his job when he was through.

“Ah, yes of course lass, John too.”

Claire offered her hand and saw the change in Jamie’s face. “Until next weekend then.”

Jaime climbed the steps to the manager’s office feeling off balance at Claire’s stiff goodbye. His mind was in constant flux between two women since he left. The dancer reigned supreme in his thoughts and dreams, but he missed Claire in his life.

He felt his body calling to her, the dancer, and he knew it would take wild horses to keep him away from her tonight.

[allie1804-fan]

Please Assist Me (Chapter 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10 , Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 , Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20

Warnings :

He Said

It was a strange feeling going back to set when this utterly momentous thing had happened.  I felt untethered and for the first time in a long, long time, worried about my focus. I’d had a stressful time over 20 years ago on The Devil’s Advocate but that was more about nerves and Pacino than it was about distraction. Then when Jen was expecting Ava, I was in Baltimore working on The Replacements but I have to confess to a degree of ambivalence at first about that pregnancy so I was almost happier to box up this thing and pretend it wasn’t happening until the shoot was over. This time I knew I would just want to be there and be caring for Sophia and the kids and not be on set at all.

I would have to draw on my inner resources and commitment to the project to get me through this one. And the memories from those short 5 days were pretty special. The pregnancy test surprise, the scan, the kids’ sweet concern that the baby would make it and my sisters’ and mom’s delight at the news.  Karina, and Mom had been unable to resist hugging us both despite social distancing still being important. They hadn’t been anywhere in weeks though so we were OK to let it go for this special moment. And just being back with Sophia again, making love with her – those memories would do their usual dual trick of sustaining me and making me miss her all the more but I wouldn’t trade them.

As soon as I got back, I met with Chad and updated him with my news. I also shared my worries about focus – he dismissed them as bullshit  - not meaning to be mean but because he knew me and was confident that once we got on set, I’d be as on it as ever. I was thankful he had faith in me and hoped I could live up to it.

 She Said

It was late July and I was laying on a sun-lounger by a pool in a villa in Provence. Time to chill at last and to look forward to seeing Keanu later that day. He was joining us direct from New York whereas we had already had a week there and were currently enjoying the company of Alex, Ramsey and their 2 kids. In fact at this specific moment, it was their two kids who were affording me the time to lay back as they were splashing around in the pool with my 2 meaning all I needed to do was ensure the snacks kept coming and that my two  had on enough sunscreen!

I had last seen Keanu 5 weeks before when he’d flown home to attend the 12 week scan.  All was well including the abnormality risk assessment so he’d been able to return to set reassured. After that I had facetimed or phoned him if possible when I had midwife appointments but on a couple of  occasions he’d just got a heartbeat recording after the event! I know he treasured that though, sometimes sneaking a listen to it when he was hanging around on set waiting for the crew to be ready.

We kept in touch with calls most but not every night and we never had any relapses or forgetfulness any more.  We usually had the call at around 6pm (9pm his time) and If Eva was around she would always update him on what the corresponding size of fruit was to the baby. By the last, call about a week ago in mid July, we were up to the size of an apple!

We’d decided to head to France for a family holiday since Covid related travel restrictions had eased somewhat and Keanu had missed his chance the previous year for a European break. He had hired a bike which was waiting here and would spend some time enjoying the  winding, hilly roads of the Vars region which we’d chosen due to it being a bit off the beaten track compared to the hills around Nice or Cannes. We’d found a big property which had 10 bedrooms meaning plenty of friends could join us which they were doing more on rotation than all at once but the space meant we shouldn’t have to turn anyone away. There was a maid service too – I didn’t want one of those holidays where you still have all your usual jobs to do, just more of them but in a prettier place! Mind you, since I’d got pregnant, Keanu had insisted I get a maid service at home as well as the kids’ lock down tutor so my domestic responsibilities had reduced significantly.

The kids and I had travelled over with my mother and at some point in the next couple of weeks we’d host Karina, her husband, Keanu’s Mom and Kim and possibly Chad and his partner if they could make the time.

 He Said

I emerged somewhat groggy to the terminal in Nice and was happy that we’d arranged a car so I could just find the guy with ‘Reeves’ on his sign and snooze for the roughly one hour journey to the villa. I was greeted first by Eva and Miguel who Sophia said had been waiting by the gate for about the last hour with their welcome sign! Then I got to see my beautiful girl walking towards me in a cream maxi-dress  which showed the gentle swell of her growing baby bump to perfection. She was literally glowing now.

“Hey you”

“Hey you two!”

We saved the passionate smooching for later but had a long hug on the driveway before going in to say hi to our other guests.

The house was what they call a ‘bastide’, built up on a hill and it had been extended with some of the rooms being in a separate self contained building which was nice for friends like Alex to have their own space. There were a couple of verandas both with pergolas covered with climbers for shade and of course a pool. Indoors most rooms had terracotta tiles and the shutters which kept the place cool and also meant it would be pitch black until they were opened so everyone would sleep in.  Our room felt instantly soothing with cream walls and blue and cream striped curtains and bed linen.

I am not someone who takes many proper holidays. I get to travel so much with work  usually that the thing  I want most when I’m finished with a project is to be a homebody and catch up with friends in LA.

With this holiday though, Sophia’s planning meant I got many of those home comforts  (reading, biking, friends, family) and the added bonus of being somewhere new.

My regular job ended up being fetching bread and croissants from the bakery in the morning. I could do that on the Harley I’d rented using the paniers – there was quite a lot of bread needed every day after all! Days were spent by the pool mostly but with the odd break to stock up on food, beer and wine from a local supermarket. When Sophia and I went to do this,  I was sure I was being stared at and risked being stopped but she said she’d noticed the French seemed to stare at everyone so it probably wasn’t personal! No-one approached me so either she was right or they were just more respectful of privacy! Our evening meals on most days consisted of salads and/ or something cooked on the barbecue followed by card games, music and conversation into the evening with the whole gang (whichever configuration we were on that day!) gathered on the terrace together breaking bread,  laughing and joking.

With so many other adults at the house to take the kids, we were also able to enjoy a couple of meals out on our own. I wished I could have taken Sophia on the bike up into the hills but obviously we couldn’t risk that so we drove, finding sleepy villages with beautiful tree-lined squares that usually featured an old stone fountain just like the one in the Marcel Pagnol films Jean de Fleurette and Manon de Sources.

It was just a perfect time, made even more so by the fact that this is where I first felt the baby move.

It was quite late one night and Sophia had gone ahead to bed earlier than me. I expected to find her sleeping when I got there but she was sitting up, holding her hand on her belly, smiling at me as I walked in. My eyebrows shot up, reading her expression and she nodded. I rushed to settle next to her but when I put my hand on her belly,  I couldn’t feel anything.

“Maybe try laying your face against me” she suggested.

I eased down and lifted up her t shirt, laid my cheek  against her belly  and held my breath. After a few moments, I squeezed her hand as I felt a gentle fluttering against my cheek.  My tears ended up on her belly. That’s also when I started speaking every day to our baby, all the way through to the birth. Mostly it would just be telling them about our day but sometimes I would use it as a way to say something to Sophia that I was nervous to tackle in a more direct conversation. Like my suggestion that she and the kids either move in with me or we look for a new home together.  

“So I was thinking” I murmured to her stomach “that maybe when we get back to LA, we should all be together, like we have been here, always.”

“Really?”

“Yeah of course – we have this little person arriving, we can’t live apart then can we? I mean you weren’t thinking….. I mean I’d want to live with you anyway, but….” Now I was totally burbling!

She was laughing at me by then.

“No you’re right, I just didn’t know how you felt about sharing your home with all of us or moving or anything. Guess I’ve actually being taking one day at a time on some things!”

“Well I want you all with me. I mean there’s room at my place. We’ll have to change things around obviously but that’s doable. Or if you want a new start we can look for somewhere.”

“OK, let’s do one of your mind map and incubate things and tackle it when we get back. We have 3-4 months before I’m going to basically be a beached whale and not able to do much!”

By the time we left, I was definitely sold on this kind of holiday being in my future – another wonderful change in me that had been down to Sophia.

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithk’eanu @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @witty-wallflower @paperplanesandwallflowers @bitchyslut99 @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @fanficsrusz @keanuficfiles @bitchyslut99

[furuba-imagines]

A Glimmer of Hope [1]

A/N: I shall be posting requests over the weekend. I started writing this story around 2016 (it’s on my quotev and FanFiction.Net) but bc of the rebooted anime I decided to reboot my own story as well the new anime’s honour :3

Word Count: 2706

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sad character past, mentions of family abuse. Crappy format bc it was posted on mobile app. I’ll fix it up later. For now, enjoy!!

Pairing: Eventual Kyo x Oc

Story Notes:

Bold text is Amélie’s thoughts and inner dialogue.

Italicised text is when Amélie is narrating bits of the story like Tohru does in the anime as well as flashbacks (I will let you know what’s a flashback and what’s not though)

ONE - ENCOUNTERS

Amélie smiled to herself as she breathed in the fresh morning air. She marvelled at how beautiful and blue the sky was and how the white fluffy clouds looked as if they were painted in gentle strokes.

'Oooh yeah, that sun feels so warm.'

The sun shone bright, warming up her pale skin, erasing the goose bumps that littered her exposed arms. Turning back to the small black tent that she currently called home, her lip twitched and formed into a forlorn smile as she looked at the photograph sitting atop a folded pile of clothes in a simple brown wooden picture frame. It was a picture of her when she was six, posing with her mum and dad. Everything was so happy and bright back then... but a dark storm washed all that happiness away and she hasn't really felt it since. Despite the accident that befell them happening so long ago, it still got to her. It still haunted her dreams at night and plagued her thoughts during daylight. She wished she could just stop feeling – it would make things so much easier.

With a heavy sigh, Amélie grabbed her school bag and guitar and secured them both around her back and shoulder respectively. She cast one last glance at the picture before zipping up the tent and making sure it was secure, not that she was worried about anyone breaking in. Not many people passed by this area.

'See you guys soon. I love you.'

Even so, she didn't keep her more valuable belongings in the tent, like her piano keyboard. She kept that safely locked up in the school music room. Normally, she'd leave her guitar there too but she wanted to work on the new song she was writing. But she never kept both instruments in the tent at the same time in case something did happen. She didn't want to risk it no matter how small the chance. A part from the picture, her guitar and piano were the only things she had left of her parents. They were both musicians – her mum sang and wrote and her dad played. Music was one of the only things she still found happiness in. She hoped that one day her music would be played across the world for people to enjoy.

Amélie tugged at her uniform, wishing she had a mirror to check herself with. Amélie was never very fond of the girl's uniform so she wore the boy's one instead. She traded in her skirt and blouse for the pants and collared shirt and paired it with her own plain black Doc Martin's. She felt more comfortable in them than the lace up shoes the school provided. The school faculty stopped carding her after the first two weeks she refused to change. She also liked the fact that she didn't have to worry about boys trying to sneak-a-peak up her skirt. The last boy who tried walked away with a swollen cheek, bruised eye and busted lip. She stood by her actions however.

'The little shit deserved it. He had it coming if you ask me.'

Amélie hadn't always lived in a tent. After the death of her parents, her French side of her family were given custody over her but she wouldn't really call them family. The first thing they did was disown her, cast her out and hand her over to the state orphanage as soon as they could. She ended up living there until she was thirteen after her Japanese side of the family finding out about her and adopting her. Amélie would've preferred to stay at the orphanage since they were more of a family than her actual relatives. By the age of sixteen she had endured enough of their abuse and torment and ran away. She ended up staying at both her friends, Uotani and Hanajima's place for a while upon their insistence but the guilt became too much so she lied about having found good accommodation. In reality, she kept moving from hotel to hotel until she was forced to live in the tent she was living in currently. A glamorous life she liked to sarcastically call it, but she was grateful at least that she wasn't living on the sidewalks or under a bridge somewhere.

"Il ya toujours un arc en ciel après la tempéte!" She quoted to herself. There's always a rainbow after a storm. It was something her mother used to quote quite often.

The forest that she walked through she found to be quite calming and beautiful with all the tall trees and lush greenery. With that being said, feeling a little adventurous this morning and wanting to delay school as much as she could, she decided to take a different route. The more she drifted away from her usual path, the more the forest became increasingly unfamiliar until she had no idea where she was going.

"Fuck sakes," She cursed. 'Why would you even try straying from the main path with your horrible sense of direction? I'm such an idiot sometimes.'

However, much to her surprise, something in the peripherals of her vision captured her attention and halting her steps. To her far right, down a hill was a large clearing that lead to a traditional Japanese looking house. Amélie should've known that a forest as beautiful as this one had to have some kind of estate built upon it. With her curiosity piqued to the max, she couldn't help herself and decided to investigate.

‘A little snooping wouldn't hurt anybody.'

"It's called trespassing Amélie and its illegal," she reminded herself but proceeded to ignore her own warning.

Amélie was careful as she made her way down the hill. Hiding behind a bush, she did a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear before approaching the house.

'At least they don't have to worry about annoying neighbours. Must be nice to live here.'

Coming up close to the porch, Amélie couldn't help but be drawn to little ornaments sitting on a wooden rack. Upon closer inspection, she recognised them as the twelve animals of the Chinese zodiac. She smiled to herself.

"They look so well made and detailed. I wonder how long it took to paint them all..."

"Hello, this is a surprise. We don't get many young girls wondering around these parts."

Amélie bristled at the sudden voice and stumbled backwards, almost falling flat on her ass.

'Shit, shit! You've done fucked up now! Run before he calls the cops on you for trespassing! On second thought... he doesn't look too mad. Just play it cool and maybe you can leave without getting into any trouble.'

"I'm so sorry sir! I was just admiring I swear! I'm not here to cause you any trouble." She barely managed to string her words together without fumbling over them.

The man just chuckled and waved a hand at her. "It's quite alright, no harm done." The man's smile turned pensive. "I just find it hard to imagine that a teenager like yourself would find this place interesting." He mused.

'Oh thank goodness, I'm not in trouble.'

Amélie was quick to shake her head as she knelt in front of the rack, the man following suit. "No, it's a very lovely place. And I especially love these little zodiac ornaments here. Did you make them?" She asked.

"Yes I did. They're a favourite of mine too you could say."

Amélie scanned every rock that had been painted with detail and precision but a frown soon formed on her face when she noticed something missing.

"Of course you left out the cat just like everyone else." She muttered. It was more to herself than to the man in front of her although she realised she must've spoken too loud because of his surprised expression.

"The cat? Oh right, I see. You're referring to the old zodiac folktale." He said in realisation and Amélie nodded.

"I used to get dad to tell me the story sometimes before bed. I've always thought the cat had just as much importance to the story as any of the other animals did. I always felt for him."

_____________________

>>>Flashback<<<

_____________________

Little Amélie laid in her bed all snuggled and tucked beneath her plush blankets.

"Goodnight princess," Mr. Hoshimi smiled down at his daughter and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. As soon as he stood up to leave though, Amélie grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt and tugged on it.

"Wait! Can you tell me that story about the animals again? Pwease?" She pouted, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. The elder man quickly fell for her doe eyes and hopeful smile and found himself smiling along with her.

"Oh wow could I ever say no to that cute face?" he cooed, sitting back down onto the bed.

"A long, long time ago, god decided to invite all of the animals to a glorious banquet. He sent out word for all of them to come to his house the following evening and he told them not to be late.

"Can you name all the animals Amélie?"

Amélie sat up straight and proudly listed all the animals – The dog and the dragon, the rabbit and tiger, the rat and the pig, the cow and horse, the sheep and the rooster, the monkey, the snake... "And my favourite, the cat!" She cheered.

Mr. Hoshimi just laughed and tucked Amélie back underneath the sheets and continued with the story.

"However, when the mischievous rat heard the news, he decided to play a trick on his fellow neighbour – the cat. He told the cat that the party was the day after tomorrow."

Amélie turned her nose up and scowled. "I hate this part," She grumbled with a huff. "The poor kitty cat deserves better..."

"The very next day, all of the animals lined up for the celebrations with the rat leading the way, riding all the way on the back of the cow. Everyone had a wonderful time, except for the foolish cat who missed the whole thing." Mr. Hoshimi finished.

When he looked down at his daughter, he chuckled at her grumpy pout and furrowed brows.

"Amélie honey, why so grumpy?" He asked, but he knew why. She always got mad at the rat for tricking the cat, even though it was only just a story, Amélie had vowed to be the protector of all cats.

"Because the rat was so mean! If I was the cat, I would've kicked the rats butt for being such a... well, a butt!" She exclaimed, balling her hands into tiny fists.

"And if mummy heard you talk like that, she'd have yours."

Amelie giggled sheepishly before a thought popped into her head. "Do you think the cat would like it if I started a year of the cat?!"

Mr. Hoshimi just smiled. "I'm sure he would love that honey."

_______________________

>>> End of Flashback <<<

_______________________

The kimono wearing man smirked and tapped his fingers against his chin in thought. "Funny, I wonder how he would feel after hearing that story, knowing he has a little fan."

Snapping out of her reverie, she looked at him with a confused tilt of her head. "I'm sorry, who?"

The man shook his head and part of her wondered if she was actually meant to hear what he had said or not.

"Oh nevermind. So, what year were you born in?" He asked, quickly distracting her by changing the subject and Amélie went along with it.

"Year of the Ox," she replied.

The man nodded but Amélie noticed his eyes drift to her uniform. Most people found it odd that she wore the boy's uniform so she was used to it by now. She was about to speak, but he beat her to it.

"I apologise, I don't mean to stare. I've just never seen a girl wear the boy's uniform before. I must say though, you pull it off quite well."

Amélie's cheeks flushed at the compliment. She was the worst when it came to accepting flattery and compliments.

"Thank you."

"You're not from around her are you?" He asked suddenly in a curious tone.

Amélie had been waiting for that question. Something she was often asked about also.

"It's my accent isn't it?" She supplied with a smirk.

'I'm glad it isn't too thick for people to understand me.'

"It is quite nice to listen to. I mean, aside from your pretty fa-"

Whatever the man was going to say next came to an abrupt stop and was replaced with a pained gasp as something landed on his head. It was a schoolbag, just like the one Amélie and most other high school students had.

'Oh shoot, did not expect that.'

"My head!"

"Will you at least try to control yourself?" A new voice sighed.

Amélie's eyes trailed up the person's arm that held the bag until she reached their face and her eyes widen in shock.

'No way, Yuki lives here?! If I get caught with him, that stupid fan club of his won't let me hear the end of it.'

Yuki turned his attention away from the man to Amélie. "Good morning Miss Hoshimi, I'm sorry for my cousin. He's bit of a flirt but's he's harmless. It's best to just ignore him."

"Oh no, it's alright. We were just talking is all; he's good company."

The man, Yuki's cousin, rubbed the sore spot on his head. "What do you have in there? A dictionary or something?"

Yuki barely batted an eyelash at his whining. "Two dictionaries actually," he sighed in exasperation as he slid the schoolbag onto his back, adjusting the straps so it fit comfortably on his shoulders.

Yuki's cousin rubbed his head one last time. "So, you two know each other?" He asked, pointing between the two of them.

"Miss Hoshimi and I are in the same class."

Amélie dipped her head in a respectful bow. "The name's Amélie, pleasure to meet you." She officially greeted.

"Same here. I'm Shigure Sohma and Yuki here is my little cousin." He explained with a friendly smile.

"And what brings you to our house this morning?" Yuki asked in his usual soft and polite voice.

Amélie offered them a nervous smile, rubbing the back of her neck. 'I can't exactly tell them that I live in the middle of the forest. They'll probably laugh at me. I need to think of something good to say and fast!'

"Oh uh, well you know, I live... nearby." She trailed off lamely. It wasn't a complete lie.

'Oh yeah, that's such a good cover up.'

She gulped when she noticed their stunned expressions and wished they would change the subject. She didn't do well under pressure.

"Around here? Really?"

"You do? Where?" Yuki pressed. Amélie was hyperaware of how clammy the palms of her hands were becoming.

'Abort! Abort!'

"I don't mean to be rude but I should probably head to school. I haven't been late in a while and I wanted to keep my record clean this semester."

'As if they cared or needed to know that last bit.'

She bowed to them once again. "It was nice chatting with you. Have a good day." She said in a hurry, quickly turning on her heel and walking away.

'Don't look back. Just keep walking...'

"Miss Hoshimi?" Yuki called out after her.

Amélie sighed inwardly. 'Dammit.'

Putting on a smile, she turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"Since you're here, why don't we walk to school together?" He suggested.

'Say no. It's not worth the wrath of the fan club.'

"Sure, I don't see why not?" She accepted with a forced smile.

The entire walk was done so in an awkward silence as neither Yuki nor Amélie spoke a word or even looked at each other. And to make matters worse, they did eventually run into the Prince Yuki Fan Club, prompting both teens to ignore their chants and poses which only made it all the more awkward until they parted their separated ways.

'I better prepare myself for their onslaught of pathetic questioning.'

Amélie groaned. She could feel the headache coming on already...

[nessnessquik]

The Nanny - Chapter 5

It's been almost a year since I've posted. Wow. Let's just say that this hiatus has been brutal, especially for us Philinda fans, and it hasn't been easy to write fluff, even for me! But since it seems like AU is all we can cling to in this depressing time, here's a new chapter to one of my favorite fics I've written. My plans for this fic always make me happy, even when canon is hurting us beyond belief. I really hope you enjoy this and are able to feel a little bit of happiness from reading it!

THANK YOU to my unfailing beta, Liz. I love you so much, girl. And thank you to all of you SO SO MUCH for all of your absolutely wonderful comments you've already left on this fic!!

This chapter is dedicated to my favorite Mama Bear, Melinda May, and the person who no doubt is a huge reason why I love Phil Coulson so much, Julie Coulson. Happy Mother's Day to these mothers, and to all you wonderful mothers as well!

Also on AO3.

“What are you drawing, Mr. Phil?” Daisy peeked over his shoulder curiously.

“Hang on, you’ll know in one...second...there.” Phil looked at her and grinned proudly. “It’s been a while since I’ve tried to draw it, but I think I did pretty well!”

It was late, the setting sun spilled golden light into the playroom as they sat together in comfortable silence. Daisy had been restless and missing her mom more acutely today, so Phil suggested she try and make a drawing for her before they got ready for dinner. She agreed and immediately pulled out her art supplies. Phil had been working on a list of needs for a cupcake order for a bit before he decided he may as well try his hand with the markers as well.

Daisy’s head tilted to the side as she examined his drawing. “You made a plate with a star?”

Phil’s mouth dropped open, offended. “That’s Captain America’s shield. The best superhero mankind has ever known! Are you telling me you’ve never seen Captain America?”

Daisy shook her head and giggled at Phil’s obvious shock.

“Well,” Phil finally said, “we’re gonna need to fix that for sure. Hmph!” He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to go see if our lasagna is ready yet. Do you want to come or stay and finish your drawing?”

“I wanna stay. I have to finish this for Mommy.” Daisy answered, her concentration already back on her artwork.

“Okay,” Phil smiled softly at her before he stood and made his way to the kitchen. It had only been a few weeks since he’d started watching Daisy, but he already felt a strong attachment to her. He hated to see her sad and would do just about anything to make her smile. Children are the easiest people to love, his mother always said.

Since he was thinking about it...Phil pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and hit “Mom” from his speed dial. It rang as he opened the oven.

“Phil, honey, aren’t you still supposed to be working?”

Phil smiled at his mother’s worried voice. “I am, Daisy’s just in the other room while I check on the lasagna I made.”

“Oh, is that what you've called for? I’ve told you if you want to make it less soupy you need to -”

“Undercook the noodles, I know, Mom. Thanks.” He took out the pan and set it on the counter, checking it on all sides.

“And don’t forget to-”

“Let it stand for a while, I remember.”

Phil heard her huff slightly. “Well...I suppose you did learn from the best.”

He laughed in amusement. “I know I did.”

As Phil decided he was satisfied with the lasagna, he explained to his mom about his discussion with Daisy.

“You still have my Captain America comics and videos, right?”

“As if you’d ever let me throw those old things away,” Julie responded affectionately. “Should I mail them to you?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Mom. You know I’d love to come see you, but between working at the shop and watching Daisy…” Phil leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed.

“You’re exhausted.” She finished for him. “Please make sure you rest, Phil. I can tell you're happy with what you’re doing, but don’t let it kill you. Or I’ll have to march over there and and force you to rest myself.”

Phil laughed and felt some of the weariness lift off his shoulders. His mother always had a gift for that.

“Oh yes, and how is, ah, Dr. May doing these days?” Phil rolled his eyes at her obviously teasing question and was about to sass back when he heard a noise from behind him.

“Mr. Phil?”

He turned and smiled at Daisy in the doorway, looking at him curiously. “Who’re you talking to?”

“I’m talking to my mom. Would you like to say ‘hi’?”

Daisy looked hesitant, but she nodded and moved closer to him.

“Mom, I’m going to put you on speaker, Daisy wanted to say ‘hello.’”

“Oh, Daisy! I’ve heard so much about you!” Julie’s voice came through the phone, her excitement causing the little girl to smile shyly.

“Hi, Mr. Phil’s mom.” Daisy said cautiously.

"Aren’t you just the most precious. Phil tells me you like playing soccer, is that true?”

“Uh huh.” Daisy looked at Phil, who smiled reassuringly.

“Tell me, who usually wins when you two play together?”

A grin crept up on Daisy’s face at the question, “Me! I get goals on Mr. Phil all the time.” She leaned closer to the phone and said in a stage whisper, “He’s not very good.”

“That's what I thought.”

“Hey!” Phil protested while Julie and Daisy giggled together. He huffed in mock offense. “Okay, time to say goodbye, we have dinner to get ready for.”

“Goodbye, Daisy, it was so nice to speak with you.”

“Bye!”

Phil held the phone back up to his ear. “Bye, Mom. Talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon, dear. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Phil hung up and faced Daisy once more. “So, you think I’m a bad soccer player, huh?”

Daisy nodded, her eyes sparkling with confidence.

“Well, then. I call a rematch tomorrow after school.”

“You’re on!” Daisy responded with her hands on her hips.

“All right, now let’s set this table for dinner.”

Melinda stepped into the house and hung up her keys that night, sniffing the air.

Italian? She thought.

It had become somewhat of a game to her, guessing what amazing meal Coulson had cooked up for that night. In her own realistic (or pessimistic, as Maria and Pepper would say) mind, she’d told herself not to get used to Coulson’s cooking, as surely he would get tired of trying to impress them and the delicious dinners would become more and more infrequent, but it had been weeks now and he was just as hard working. And obliging. And so good with Daisy. And-

Melinda cut herself off from that train of thought.

“Right on time.” Coulson’s smile was ready and waiting for her as she stepped into the kitchen, along with a plate full of lasagna and vegetables in his hand.

“Mama!” Daisy’s excited greeting was the only warning she had before her daughter slammed into her arms.

“Hello to you too, Daisy.” Melinda lifted Daisy and kissed her cheek, relishing the feel of her two little arms hugging her neck. She sighed and felt herself relax. This was all the therapy she needed after a long day.

“I missed you, Mama.” Daisy said, her voice wobbling.

“I missed you too, xiǎo huā .” Melinda held her tighter and ran a comforting hand through her daughter's long hair. She waited until Daisy's grip on her loosened before asking, “Did you have another good day at school?”

Daisy nodded and finally slid out of her mother’s embrace to return to her food sitting on their breakfast table. “I finished all my work and Mrs. Weaver gave me time on the computer today!” Melinda smiled briefly as her daughter picked up a half-eaten piece of bread from her plate.

“Daisy, I told you earlier that you can’t just fill up on the garlic toast. Eat some of those vegetables too.” Coulson spoke to the girl firmly as he set the other plate down on the table. Melinda was pleased, although she kept her face unreadable, that Coulson was encouraging healthy habits. Too many babysitters took the easy way out and let children eat whatever they wanted while they watched them. Melinda liked knowing she wasn’t the only “bad guy” when it came to eating better.

The little girl pouted Melinda’s way, as if asking for her to overrule what Coulson said. She merely raised an eyebrow back in response. Daisy sighed, but set the bread down and took her fork to the cooked food.

“We had a great day too, by the way,” Coulson motioned for Melinda to take a seat at the table, which she did without protest, eagerly anticipating the tasty-looking meal. “But there is one issue I have to bring up.”

Melinda paused and looked up at him. He wiped his hands on a towel before throwing it back over his shoulder, his tone and facial expressions serious. She turned her body toward him and nodded to show she was listening.

Coulson folded his arms and leaned back on the kitchen counter. “How does your daughter not know who Captain America is?”

Melinda blinked. “...Excuse me?” She let out a short, confused laugh. “You mean, that one superhero from those comics?”

“He’s not just one of those superheroes, he's Captain America! And there's more than comics, he has his own action figures, trading cards, TV show...how could you let this poor girl grow up without knowing one of the greatest men in history? It's a huge oversight, Dr. May.” Coulson’s indignant speech amused Melinda to no end. She had sensed some nerdiness in him since their first meeting, now she knew where it stemmed from...superheroes, evidently.

“In fictional history, you mean.” Melinda couldn’t stop herself from teasing him, just a little.

He opened his mouth to retort, but Daisy piped up from her chair excitedly. “Mr. Phil says Captain America has a shield! And he uses it to protect himself from bullets, and he can hit bad guys on the head with it!” Melinda smiled at her enthusiasm. “His mommy is going to send some movies and comic books to us so we can read them!”

“With your permission first, of course.” Coulson interjected quickly, looking slightly embarrassed at the mention of his mother.

Melinda thought about it for a moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d watched or cared about a superhero franchise, but she had a few fond memories from her younger days of Peggy telling her about the different comics and shows, and she had actually enjoyed reading about the secret agents who worked alongside the powered characters. Melinda couldn’t remember any negatives about Captain America off the top of her head, and at this point, she knew and trusted Coulson enough to have good judgement about what to show her daughter.

“Please, Mommy?” Daisy’s big brown eyes begged her to say yes, and Melinda couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping as Coulson crouched behind Daisy’s chair and raised his eyebrows, mimicking her sad puppy dog look.

“Please?” He echoed.

Melinda held up her hand in surrender. “Fine.”

Daisy squealed and high-fived Coulson, whose blue eyes then beamed her way.

Melinda shook her head to fight a smile and broke their eye contact in favor of looking at her plate. “Can I eat my dinner now?”

“Of course!” Coulson stood back up and moved to check on the oven. “I have a fresh batch of garlic bread that will be done in just a few minutes.”

“Enough time for you to eat some too then,” Melinda stated. Her tone didn’t allow for protest. “Sit and eat.”

Coulson had begun resisting less and less when it came to eating with them, Melinda was pleased to note. She didn’t think it was fair for him to prepare the whole meal and not enjoy it along with them.

“Yes, ma’am.” Coulson served a plate and set it down on the other side of Daisy, across from Melinda.

“So, what's so great about Captain America?” Melinda asked as she took a bite of lasagna.

And thus opened the floodgates.

If she didn't already know how talkative Coulson could be, she sure knew now, she mused to herself.

Somehow, the stream of conversation didn't bother her as much as it usually would with other people. Melinda sat and listened to his passionate views (in between interjections from her 4-year-old), saw the enthusiastic way his hands gestured and his eyes lit up even brighter than before, and found herself weighing in and becoming engaged in a conversation about supernatural powers, responsibility, morals, character, history, right and wrong, and more. They were so engrossed in their debate that Phil nearly burned the garlic bread before she reminded him. Their conversation continued long after Daisy had lost interest and went to play by herself, and went on as they finished their food and cleaned the kitchen together.

“Oh wow.” Coulson winced as he finished hanging the kitchen towel in its place on the stove, and catching a glimpse at the clock in the process. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you so long talking about, well-”

“Your obsession.” Melinda cut him off with a smirk as she slid the container of extra lasagna into the fridge.

Coulson grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. Melinda noticed his face looked more pink than it had a minute ago. “Yeah...not my most selling characteristic, I've been told. I usually start losing people after the first sentence.” He laughed self-consciously.

“It's fine, Coulson. If I didn't think it was interesting, I would've made it clear.” Melinda leaned back on the counter, chuckling internally at his embarrassment. Just to reassure him, she added, “I didn't mind. And I'm a good listener.”

“Yeah, you are. And a great debater.” Coulson grinned at her.

Melinda cleared her throat to stop herself from smiling back too long. “Plus, I should know what kind of values they depict Captain America having anyway, since Daisy will be watching and reading about him.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Coulson nodded seriously. “I know how impressionable children are at this age and I wouldn't show her anything that could potentially be a bad influence on her.”

“I believe you.” Melinda answered simply.

They stood there for another moment before Coulson excused himself to go say goodnight to Daisy.

As he walked away, Melinda mulled over the decision she'd been trying to make for a week now—whether or not she trusted Coulson to take care of Daisy more full time, which would include watching her at the house during Melinda's night shift.

It was a big step for her—allowing someone else to be in charge of her daughter's safety throughout the night—but she had a gut feeling about him. That he would be good for Daisy, and by extension, good for her as well. And her instincts were almost always right. Plus, she didn't want to depend on Peggy's good graces forever. Melinda knew her friend loved Daisy like another daughter, but she didn't need to have her sleeping at her house at least once a week, every week. No, as hard as it was for her, Melinda knew it was time to take a leap of faith with Phi– Coulson , she corrected herself firmly–and see if this arrangement would work out or not.

Decision made, Melinda joined Coulson and walked out the front door to speak with him.

“I have something to ask you.” She hesitated, but then continued when he turned toward her. “It’s been close to a month since you've started watching Daisy and she's clearly taken with you. I don't think she was even this happy with Hannah watching her. And I have been happy with your service as well.”

Coulson half-smiled and looked down humbly. “Thank you. She's an incredible kid, and she makes it easy.” He looked up at her, blue eyes sincere. “You've raised her extremely well.”

Melinda's lips quirked up. “Thank you. I was wondering...what would you think about staying the night here? That is,” Melinda hurriedly finished as Coulson's eyes widened a fraction. “For Daisy, I mean, to watch her during my overnight shift tomorrow?” Who's the awkward conversationalist now? Melinda thought grimly to herself. “And instead of babysitter, I'd officially hire you as her nanny, which of course would come with a pay increase. I know you have your other job too, but...”

Thankfully, Coulson was already nodding with the close-lipped smile that somehow still managed to make his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Absolutely. I'd be honored.”

“Great.” Melinda smiled back in relief. “Would you be able to come tomorrow around 2:30 and we can discuss more details?”

“Deal.” Coulson held out his hand to shake.

She took it. “Deal.”

“Goodnight, Dr. May.” Coulson sent her one last grin before he walked away.

“Bye, Mr. Phil!” Daisy ran up behind Melinda to wave one last time. He waved back and disappeared into his car.

Melinda shut the door with a slight smile and then turned and spoke in Mandarin. “Time for bed, Daisy.” She said seriously.

“First come see the picture I made for you!” Daisy pulled on Melinda's hand until they reached her bedroom. “Mr. Phil only helped me with the words a little bit! Here's you and me and our house, and I'm giving you a flower, and this says ‘I love you.’ Mr. Phil said he didn’t know how to help me write it in Mandarin though.”

“Ohh, little flower, this is beautiful.” Melinda felt a slight sting of tears at Daisy's shy, but proud smile and the stick figures on the page. Melinda took Daisy into her lap and wrapped her arms around her, soaking up this sweet moment with her baby. All the secret thoughts and doubts that plagued her every day about what a terrible mother she was became insignificant here, snuggled with the most important person in the world to her.

Melinda looked at the picture again. “Who is this right here?” She pointed to another figure on the page that had several circles drawn next to it.

“That's Mr. Phil. He's making us cookies to eat.”

Melinda laughed and pressed several kisses onto Daisy's smiling cheeks. “Of course he is. How about we put this on our fridge and then get ready for storytime?”

Daisy nodded obligingly (even though Melinda knew it wouldn't be that easy to put her to bed, it never was with her and her active little body. But at least she would be less likely to lose her mind about it tonight thanks to this precious moment), and they held hands all the way to the kitchen.

[inkjam-moon]

Sweet & Spicy - Part One

Summary: A confession on a cold night.

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: FLUFF

Word Count: 2.4k

TW: THE SOFTEST KISS

A/N: Part one of three! There will be smut in the other parts This is the first part of a birthday present for my sweet @baozibunns. Happy birthday love, hope you like it~

“Look, if you don’t hurry up and pick a flavor, I’m going to pick one for you.” You state, tapping your foot impatiently.

“But there’s too many to choose from.” Jeongguk whines, his eyes scanning frantically along the shelves in the convenience store. “Sweet. Spicy. Beef. Chicken. How do you choose?”

“Why do I even let you come into the store with me?” You groan. “I’m going to get the coffee, If you don’t pick one by the time I get back, you don’t get any.” You chide, walking to the other side of the store to where the drinks sit in their respective coolers. You grab two cans of coffee, decaf of course, the two of you would die if you drank caffeine this late at night.

It had been another late dance practice for Jeongguk, alone in the studio, but as always, you hung around until he was done. He always claims he dances better when you’re around, so being the good friend you are you stay to cheer him on and keep his spirits up, watching him get sweaty and gross, and then the two of you head out to the convenience store down next to the park to grab ramen and coffee before movie night at your place. However, ever the indecisive one, Jeongguk always takes forever to pick his flavors, and on nights when you’re buying, like tonight, you tend to lose patience a lot faster than usual.

You take your time walking back over to him, praying that by the time you get there, he’ll have picked something. When you round the corner into the ramen aisle, you see Jeongguk reach out and pluck a cup off the shelf, making you squeal.

“That one! You touched it, that’s the one!”

Jeongguk turns to you with a pursed lip frown on his face, but he sighs and nods. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

“Thank god.” You groan.

The two of you walk up to the counter and you quickly pay for your items. As you pay, Jeongguk takes the cups of ramen over to the hot water dispenser. He opens and fills both containers, closing them again to let them set just as you grab your receipt and walk over to join him. He hands you your cup and a pair of chopsticks and you trade him his coffee before the two of you head back outside and start the walk back to your apartment. The two of you walk in silence for a bit as you round the corner of the park, until Jeongguk stops you.

“Hey, noona?”

“Mm?”

“Wanna swing?” He asks, nodding his head to the swingset hidden by a large tree.

“Now?” You ask, looking at your watch to see it’s almost midnight.

“Why not? Now’s the best time to do it.” He states, already walking over to the object in question.

“Alright.” You sigh under your breath before making your way over to where Jeongguk is already lightly swinging. You seat yourself in the swing next to him, holding your coffee can between your thighs and wrapping both hands around the warm cup of noodles, trying to fight the late night chill in the air as you pull back the lid and gather some noodles on your chopsticks, shoving them into your mouth.

The spice of the ramen warms you from the inside out and you let out a small sigh of contentment as you slurp down the food. It’s quiet as the two of you eat. Usually you eat on the way home, which is okay because you don’t really need to talk as you walk, but now, you wonder what Jeongguk has in mind. He usually doesn’t stop at the swings unless he has something he wants to discuss on the walk to your place.

The silence of the air is disturbed by the loud crack of him opening his can of coffee. You look over as he takes a swig, taking in his appearance. His hair has been dyed back to it’s natural black and it falls across his forehead underneath the hood of his much too large sweatshirt. You giggle a bit when you realize he has to keep rolling up his sleeves every time he goes to grab another mouthful of noodles. His coffee sits perched between his strong thighs, much like yours, and he’s wearing his favorite ripped black jeans and black sneakers.

You open your own can of coffee and shiver as the cold liquid trails down your throat. You prefer the warmth of the noodles on a night like tonight. Maybe you should’ve gotten hot, fresh coffee instead of canned? It’s too late now, you’ll have to remember it for next time.

You take another sip as Jeongguk slurps up the last of his noodles; you can tell he’s almost finished when he brings the container to his lips and drains the leftover broth. You swear you’ve never seen him eat so fast, something must really be on his mind.

After he’s done he stands and walks the empty cup over to the nearby trashcan before returning and taking his seat back on the swing, kicking his feet a bit as he holds his coffee with both hands. You watch him closely; you know that face, he’s waiting for the right opportunity to say whatever it is he wants to say. You don’t want to stay out in the cold much longer, so you decide to prompt him.

“So what’s up Kook?”

He bites his bottom lip anxiously, staring down at where he’s drawing abstract shapes in the dirt with the tip of his shoe. “Nothing…”

“No?”

“I just felt like swinging.” He mumbles.

“Really?” You ask, disbelief evident in your tone.

He only nods and you shrug, going back to your noodles. Mid slurp, Jeongguk must’ve gathered the courage, because he finally speaks up. “Hey… Y/N?”

“Mm?” You respond, mouth too full of ramen to respond properly.

“W-what was your first kiss like?”

You nearly choke, off put by his sudden inquiry. “What?”

“Did you have one?”

“W-well, yeah.”

“What was it like?” He asks again.

“Oh gosh, um…” You think back. When was your first real kiss? Sophomore year? “Honestly, it was kind of clumsy.”

“Clumsy?”

“Yeah,” You nod. “Neither of us really knew what we were doing, so it wasn’t very uh, nice. In fact, I think he missed the first time.”

Jeongguk chuckles a bit. “He missed?”

“Yeah, he got my chin instead of my lips.” You giggle at the memory.

“Ah, I see.” He’s quiet again for bit and you take the chance to eat the rest of your ramen, finishing off the broth with a gasp of satisfaction. You chug the rest of your coffee while you’re at it. As you stand to throw away your trash, Jeongguk speaks again. “So then… You’ve had boyfriends before.”

“Yeah.” You state simply as you toss your empty containers. When you turn back, Jeongguk seems to be contemplating something, and it doesn’t look like he’s planning on leaving anytime soon, so you walk back and return to your swing.

“What were they like?”

This strikes you as an odd question. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. What kind of people were they?”

You think back. What kind of people have you dated before? You shrug. “Tall, dark, and handsome; you know the deal.” It’s true, when you first met Jeongguk you were still dating Minsung, your most recent ex. Minsung was exactly as described; he was abnormally tall, about 190 centimeters, he was tan, muscular, and had truly beautiful features, his face so perfectly proportioned even Fibonacci would be impressed.

Minsung was even the reason you met Jeongguk.

You first visited Korea when you were twenty and quickly fell in love with every aspect of the beautiful country and customs. A year later you applied for a job, were hired, and made the move halfway across the world to Seoul where you met Minsung by chance at a coffee shop. He was nice, and he was actually the first friend you made in your new home.

Minsung was a backup dancer at Jeongguk’s company, and one time he invited you to a rehearsal. While he was on a break and the two of you were eating lunch, Jeongguk came over to talk to Minsung about some choreography issues; it took him a few minutes to even notice you were there. Minsung introduced the two of you and after a few weeks the three of you hanging out, and of you breaking Jeongguk out of his reserved shell, you and Jeongguk became the best of friends.

When you and Minsung amicably parted ways; your relationship having become all too stagnant; you and Jeongguk remained extremely close, and now here you are, two years later and still as close as ever.

“Are you talking about Minsung?” Jeongguk’s voice interrupts your wandering mind. “He still asks about you all the time you know.”

“I know. We got coffee the other day, but it was super boring.” You chuckle. “How did I date him for so long?”

“Did you guys ever… You know…?”

“Ever what?” You tilt your head in curiosity.

“Are you a… a v-virgin?” He mutters the last word so softly that you barely hear it.

You practically snort. “Oh god no.” Then you remember who you’re talking to. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a virgin!” You quickly move to dig yourself out of the hole you just made, knowing full well that Jeongguk hasn’t lost his v card yet; he’s never had a girlfriend, he’s never even kissed anyone. Is that why he’s asking all these questions? Did he finally find someone he likes? “Sorry Kook.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “Would you say Minsung is your ideal type then?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it before.”

“You haven’t?”

“Nope. But honestly? I think I’d rather date someone like you than I would him.”

Jeongguk perks up at this. “R-really?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “You’re so sweet.”

“Do you… You think I’m attractive?”

“Of course I do Kook. Can you not see yourself in those floor to ceiling mirrors in the studio? You’re almost painfully handsome.” You offer him a small smile, but he’s intently focused on the ground in front of him, so he doesn’t see it.

You stare out over the dark landscape, illuminated by a sole lamppost on the edge of the park, but when you hear Jeongguk’s breathing suddenly pick up, you look over at him, concerned. He’s scooted his swing closer, grabbing the chain on yours that’s nearest him, his doe eyes wide as he scans your face. It almost looks like he’s trembling, but before you can ask what’s wrong, he leans forward and very gently presses his lips to yours.

You panic internally, a million thoughts racing through your mind. This is his first kiss. You’re taking his first kiss. What do you do? Was he asking those questions because he likes you? Oh god, oh shit. Should you kiss him back? You can feel Jeongguk’s hand tremble as he reaches up to cup your face. You don’t think he’s breathing. His lips are soft though… You… You should kiss him back. You should-

And just like that, it’s over. You hear Jeongguk exhale shakily as he pulls back, looking at you for a some sort of response.

“I…” You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

Worry and panic immediately wash over Jeongguk’s features. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” He looks down at the ground again before you can respond.

“N-no, it’s… it’s okay.” You assure him. “I just. I wasn’t expecting it I guess?” Your face flushes a bit when realization hits you. “Kook, I took your first kiss…”

“I know.” He states. “I wanted you to.”

“I mean, I understand you wanting to get it out of the way and all, but a little warning would’ve been-”

“I didn’t just want to get it out of the way.”

“You didn’t?”

“Noona, I… I k-kind of like you. A-a lot actually.” He confesses, his gaze never leaving the dirt.

“Kook-”

“I-I know you probably don’t like me back, but I just… I wanted to at least try.”

“Do you like me though?”

“What?” His head finally snaps up to meet your gaze.

“I know the ‘hyungs who shall not be named’ have been teasing you about this stuff recently, so do you like me? Or do you just like the idea of me? Of having a girlfriend?”

“G-girlfriend?” He swallows harshly, taking a moment before responding. “N-noona, I-I’ve… I’ve had a crush on you f-for forever.”

“You have?” Now it’s your voice that’s gone soft. He nods. “Kook, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared…” He admits quietly. “And you were with Minsung for so long-”

“Kookie, you don’t have to be scared.” You reach out to offer a comforting touch, but stop, not knowing if you should.

Jeongguk sighs deeply before sitting up straight and turning to face you. “Y/N, w-will you be my girlfriend?”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, warmth blossoming in your chest as your stomach flutters. “Yeah.” You nod. “Yeah, I will.”

“Wait, really?”

You laugh at his reaction. “Did you expect me to say no? I like you too Kook, so yes, really.”

Before you can think, Jeongguk shoots up out of his swing and wraps you in his arms, nearly knocking you off your own seat.

“Oops, sorry.” He whispers, pulling back, and letting you stand up.

“It’s okay.” You smile before placing a sweet peck on his cheek. “Now can we go home? I’m freezing.”

“Oh, gosh yeah. Come on.” He nods before heading back to the sidewalk, a definitive bounce now in his step before he turns and realizes you aren’t beside him and he rushes back to your side. “C-can I maybe, um. Can I hold your hand?” He asks, his cheeks flushing pink. You simply smile and hold your hand out for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours, his large palm, surrounding yours with warmth as he gives your hand a squeeze.

As the two of you walk back to your apartment, well it’s more like as Jeongguk drags you back to your apartment, the air is filled with silence, but it’s not awkward, it’s content, peaceful really, as Jeongguk swings your arm back and forth with his. You’re almost home when a involuntary shiver runs down your spine from the cold.

“You couldn’t have waited until we got back to my heated apartment to ask me?” You inquire as your body shakes.

“Don’t worry, we can curl up on the couch under the blankets and I’ll keep you warm. I mean, you know i-if you want? If that’s okay with you, you know I-”

“Sounds perfect.”

Copyright © Inkjam-Moon 2018

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

a language that i never knew existed before - Day 16

For @nancylovesreylo, who requested a canon-compliant ficlet where Ben finds “this state of mind (with Rey's help, of course!), after a lifetime of struggling (...)”, and @lightaroundthecorner, who asked for a redeemed Ben in or after IX.

Here’s a post-IX ficlet in which it takes being a parent for Ben to fully understand how boundless Han’s love for him must’ve been. Thank you both for inspiring this, and I hope you like it! Happy holidays! 🎄🎁❄️

Reylo fam, it’s not too late to get a Christmas ficlet just yet! We’ve got four prompts left, so drop by and leave a request today!

25 Days of Reylo Also available on AO3

The doorbell rings just as Ben cracks two eggs into a pan, and Rey slides off the kitchen counter before he can so much as turn around.

“I’ll get it,” she assures him, dropping a quick kiss on his shoulder as she walks past.

Ben eyes what’s left of the carton of eggs and decides that they have just enough for a kid-sized omelet. He’s pretty sure his mother wouldn’t have let Meira leave without eating breakfast, but she’s a growing girl who’s been known to put away anything her dad makes for her, so it’s best to be prepared.

“Mama!” A precious, familiar voice shrieks in joy from the living room, and he can just about make out Rey’s laugh as their daughter jumps into her arms. Ben braces himself, turns off the stove and steps away from the counter, because any second now–

Meira comes running into the kitchen and barrels right into him, clinging to one leg like the little monkey that she is. He likes to joke that this part is all Rey, but she’s usually quick to remind him that he’s just as clingy and cuddly and really, between the two of them Meira never stood a chance.

“Daddy, daddy, look what gramma did!” she tells him, tugging excitedly at his hand to guide it through the dozen or so little braided loops on her head. It’s an ancient Alderaanian style he’d never bothered to master, one the Crown Princess would only have worn on very select occasions at a very young age; Leia might very well be the only person in the known galaxy who still knows how to do it, and the idea of his mother combing through Meira’s hair and filling her head with stories of their shared heritage warms his heart even more than the sight of his overexcited daughter.

“You look beautiful, starlight,” Ben murmurs with a smile as he bends down on one knee, earning a little giggle when he playfully tucks one loop over Meira’s ear. “Were you good for gramma?” he asks just as Rey enters the kitchen, alone by the looks of it. He would have liked to say hi to his mother, but then Ben’s reminded of the fact that she lives just two floors above them and he gets to see her all the time now, and for a moment that’s almost enough to distract him from the fact that Meira’s suddenly lost her smile and is quite fixated on the ground for no apparent reason.

Rey crosses the room to join them, gets down on both knees and holds her arms wide open. “Your grandmother said there’s something you’d like to tell us,” she mentions lightly as Meira steps into her arms and hides her face in her mother’s shirt.

They share a look over their daughter’s head. She had her first accident, Rey whispers into their Bond, running a soothing hand up and down Meira’s back for a while before she coaxes the uncharacteristically quiet five-year-old to stand back and face her parents.

“You know you can tell us anything, little love,” Rey says gently, pulling free the braid Ben had looped around Meira’s ear just moments before.

“We won’t be mad,” Ben adds reassuringly, holding out one hand for Meira to wrap her little fingers around his thumb the way she would clutch at a favorite toy or safety blanket if she had one right now.

Meira slowly lifts her eyes from the ground. “That’s what gramma told me,” she mumbles, still not quite looking at her parents. “She said you’ll love me no matter what I do because that’s how being a parent works.”

Come home. We miss you.

There was a time when Ben didn’t understand how a parent’s love works, couldn’t fathom how boundless and forgiving it can be. Now, though– “Well, your gramma is a very smart woman, Meira,” he says, pushing the past to the back of his mind. “There’s nothing in this world that could make us stop loving you, okay? So why don’t you just tell us what happened, starlight?”

Meira busies herself with the important task of dancing her fingertips up and down his palm, forever hoping to unlock a secret tickle spot that’ll disarm him the way her tiny hands on Rey’s feet can send her mother into a fit of shrieks and giggles. He and Rey wait patiently, trading wordless waves of reassurance over the Bond until–

“Ibrokegramma’scrown,” Meira confesses in a single breath, and puts up a token amount of resistance when Ben curls a finger under her chin and brings her eyes up.

“I just…” she trails off, squirming under her parents’ attentive looks. “It’s so pretty, and I wanted to see it again after gramma went to sleep, so I snuck into her room and tried to reach for it but it was too far away but then it started moving but it was stuck but I kept reaching and then suddenly it broke and half of it got stuck in the shelf but the other half broke into a lot of tiny pieces and they were all flying towards me and I screamed and then gramma woke up and then she jumped in front of me and all the tiny pieces hit her back and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m so so so so sorry,” Meira sobs miserably, her big, round eyes filling with tears as she flings herself into Ben’s arms.

Will you help me?

As far as awakenings go, it’s a fairly concerning one. Meira has always been Force-sensitive, they’d known that much the second Rey realized she was pregnant without even taking a test, but as the years went by and nothing manifested, Ben had started to hope–

But none of that matters now. Right now he’s got a crying, scared daughter in his arms, and that’s much more important than the ramifications of this incident and the lump of fear sitting heavy in his stomach.

Yes. Anything.

. . .

Later that night, with his head in his wife’s lap, Ben lets his thoughts wander. “Can you imagine how scared they must’ve been?” he sighs as Rey begins to card her fingers through his hair, and sends her an ancient image of his parents, young and lost and utterly unprepared as they watched their colicky child trash a room with nothing but his mind. He shouldn’t have that memory, shouldn’t have been able to retain something from that young an age, but then again there’s a lot of things Ben shouldn’t have been capable of at that age.

But we’re not them, Rey whispers through the Bond, one finger tracing the shell of his ear. “And Meira isn’t you, cyar’ika,” she says out loud, guessing where his thoughts are headed before he can even travel down that route. It’s an old fear, one that had taken root the day Rey first told him about their baby and lingered all the way until the day she carefully passed Meira into his arms, their little bundle of light, and suddenly all of Ben’s thoughts and fears and nightmares were completely, abruptly silenced as he finally understood–

How his father caressed his face even as he breathed his last breath.

How his mother welcomed him back with open arms even after everything.

How there was – is – nothing he wouldn’t do for his child, nothing that could possibly come between them, nothing he wouldn’t give his life to protect her from.

“She’ll be perfectly fine,” Rey utters calmly, confidently, as their newly Force-awakened child sleeps next door, “because her father would never let anything happen to her.”

And Ben knows, with a certainty he reserves for very, very few things, that Rey is absolutely right about him.

True story: it took me longer to write that last bit than it did to write the thousand words preceding it. I must’ve rewritten the ending at least ten times; it’s still bugging me a bit, but I think this is as good as it’s going to get.

As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment; ‘tis the season for giving and all of the kindness, support, and encouragement I've received from you guys so far has truly been the greatest gift of the season. <3

PS - In keeping with Leia and Benjamin, I picked the Hebrew name Meira for this particular Reylo baby. I found several meanings for it, but all of them had something to do with light - so Ben's got his Rey of sunshine, and his Meira of starlight.

[buckychristwrites]

Rein Me In | Part 4 | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, even super soldiers need saving. But sometimes in the process, they end up saving you too.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: A dash of angst but fluffy too!

A/N: don’t worry, it’s chill this time

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | 

Masterlist 

The museum smelled the way it always did. It calmed you, bringing you back to better times.

The New York Historical Society Museum was one you had visited often as a child, and now that you were strong enough to walk for long periods without dying of pain, you decided that you had been avoiding the place for too long. And considering you were off work until further notice, it’s not like you could say you didn’t have the time.

A lot had changed since your last visit. Exhibits had been moved around and replaced. Workers had come and gone. It was almost like you were in a totally different place than the one you had visited so often such a long time ago.

Occupied by the map in your hands, you weren’t paying attention to where it was you were walking. So it came as a shock when you looked up and came face to face with a large cardboard cutout of Captain America himself. Brows furrowed together, you looked around. Red white and blue flooded the entire exhibit, covering the walls and most of the displays. Words of praise for Captain America and the Howling Commandos could be seen everywhere, along with their pictures. The motorcycle that Captain America had used when taking out HYDRA bases was kept in shape as it stood behind a velvet rope. The sound of a narrator talking about the life and achievements of the Patriot echoed throughout the room. You continued to look around until your eyes fell on a sign on the wall.

The Captain America Exhibit is being temporarily borrowed from the Smithsonian Air And Space Museum in Washington DC.

Of course it is.

For a second, you considered leaving the exhibit. It was a painful reminder, that went far beyond the Avengers. But then a familiar face caught your eye. You shook your head as you approached it. Of course he would be here too, you thought to yourself. You had completely forgotten.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes stared at you. A different man than the one you knew. Approaching the glass, you sighed as you skimmed his little biography next to his picture. It was weird reading his birth year as 1916. Sometimes you forgot his real age. Sorrow and guilt washed over you as you continued to stare at the black and white picture. When you turned your head to look at the attraction behind it, your eyes fell on him again. A painting of him on the wall with his military uniform on display.

You hadn’t stopped thinking of Bucky since the day you left the hospital before he could get to you. The guilt was unbearable at times, but you thought you were doing what was best. Despite your attraction to Bucky, you knew that it ended as soon as you factored in his professional life. And social life. Basically it came down to, anything about Bucky’s life that didn’t have to do with just himself as a person.

“Well,” A voice said, breaking you from your thoughts. You turned around to find Steve Rogers standing behind you, a coy smirk on his face. He was wearing a baseball cap and a pair of fake glasses, and you wondered if that poor, Clark Kent-esque disguise really worked for him. “You’re the last person I expected to see here.” You bit your lip, trying to hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Do you often visit your own museum exhibit?” You asked him with a slightly cold voice. He chuckled, glancing down at his shoes before turning at looking around at the room. There was something about the look in his eyes that made you eat your words.

“Just visiting old friends,” He said quietly. The room began to shrink around you, and suddenly you wished the ceiling would fall down and crush you, maybe kill you this time. It was when he turned back to you that you realized that you were holding your breath.

“God. I’m sorry,” You said, putting your hand to your forehead. “I’m such an asshole.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, I won’t argue with that,” He retorted, his voice remaining friendly. A chill shot up your spine. He turned towards the picture of Bucky on the display, his demeanor changing to something you couldn’t quite place. “‘Forging a bond that would take him to the battlefields of Europe and beyond’,” He read while shaking his head. “They don’t even know.” He paused, staring a little longer before turning back to you. “I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing with Bucky, but he’s a good man and doesn’t deserve any of it. So you have to figure out what it is you’re doing with him sooner rather than later.” You stood silent for a while, processing Steve’s words. For a second, you thought about saying some sarcastic comment back, but nothing came to you.

You didn’t mean to make it seem like you were playing games with Bucky. Part of you was just trying to protect yourself. But obviously the hospital incident and the dodging of his phone calls must have really made an impact if he was telling Steve. And if it upset Steve enough for him to say something to you the next time he saw you, then that meant it upset Bucky more than you thought. Maybe running into Steve at the museum wasn’t just coincidence, because it was enough to push you to make a decision. For the almost two weeks it had been since you left the hospital, you had been debating on how exactly to handle Bucky, so you did what you did best and avoided him altogether. But now you knew exactly what to do.

You looked around the room, your eyes stinging with tears.

“My dad and I used to come to this museum all the time before he died,” You told Steve. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him raise an eyebrow. “He was a huge history nerd and just loved the atmosphere.” Blinking away the tears, you smiled. “He was especially excited whenever your exhibit came to visit. He admired you tremendously. Had your comics, trading cards, VHS’s of your performance. The man is rolling in his grave right now because I’m talking to you.” The both of you shared a laugh. “If he knew the way I’ve felt about you these last few years, he’d probably be really upset.” You looked back at the picture of Bucky, the one you had seen so many times as a kid and thought nothing of it. Never would you have guessed that the man in this picture would come to mean something to you.

“Why are you telling me this?” He asked, his head cocked to the side. Looking back at Steve, you pursed your lips for a second. He his face was definitely not as hard looking as it had been before, which made you more comfortable. There was a reason, for sure. But you knew that this wasn’t the place for you to tell it.

“There’s a coffee shop nearby that has some of the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had,” You told him. “Let me buy you a cup.” He furrowed his eyebrows together, making you sigh. “I have some explaining to do.”

_________________________________________

“I’d like let up to the penthouse, please.”

The security guard laughed right in your face. “You think we just let anyone up in the penthouse?” You rolled your eyes before turning away from him to dig through your bag.

“Mr. Hogan, is it?” You asked, finding the piece of plastic you were looking for. “I have clearance from Captain Rogers.” Pulling out the clearance badge that Steve had given you a few days prior, you handed it to Happy. He stared at it in shock for almost a full minute before looking back at you. You raised your eyebrows. “I’ll be on my way then.” Giving him the sweetest smile you could muster, you walked away while feeling a new level of confident.

As you stood on the elevator, watching the floors go up, your heart raced. If your hands weren’t already preoccupied, you probably would be playing with your fingers. You stared at the roses you were holding and suddenly second guessed them. What kind of fucking idea was this? Buying him roses? Who are you? These questions ran through your head, and you suddenly wondered if there was a trash can somewhere that you could drop them in. But it was too late. The doors open, and you found yourself face to face with Black Widow.

She eyed you suspiciously, taking a step away from the elevator.

“Uh,” You said, stepping into the hall and letting the doors close behind you. “Hi.” For a second, she held her stance, but then her eyes suddenly widened and she relaxed.

“You’re Barnes’s paramedic,” She said, pointing at you with a coy smile. “The one we pulled from the building.” You were slightly relieved that she didn’t acknowledge the blush that spread across your cheeks.

“Yeah…” You said, looking down at the ground. “Thanks for that, by the way.” She shrugged.

“All in a day’s work. I’m sure you know that better than anyone else.” She eyed the flowers in your hands, her smile only growing wider. You exhaled deeply and wondered if this had been a mistake. She looked back up at you. “Glad to see you looking better. Barnes isn’t here but he should be back soon, if you want to wait for him.”

“That would be great…” You said before pausing. “I don’t think I could bring myself to do this a second time.” She chuckled, gesturing for you to follow her. The walk down the hallways was quiet, but you were too busy taking in Avengers Tower to care. It was bigger than you ever imagined it, with framed newspaper articles praising their accomplishments lining the walls and skylights letting the natural light flood the rooms. The hallway lead into the living room, and as you walked, you peaked out the windows that went from the floor to ceiling that lead to a balcony with lounge chairs and a pool. You didn’t realize you had stopped walking until you turned to find your escort disappearing down another hall, and you had to run to catch up to her.

“I’m Natasha by the way,” Black Widow said randomly as she came to a stop in front of a closed door. You stopped as well.

“It’s nice to meet you,” You said before introducing yourself. She nodded once at you, looking down at the floor before looking back at you. She almost looked nervous, and that threw you off.

“Rogers told me about your run in at the museum,” She said, her head tilting in a way that told you he told her everything about what happened at the museum. “I’m sorry for what happened.” You shook your head, waving her off.

“I know, deep down, that you guys aren’t to blame,” You said slowly. “I just have to remind myself of that sometimes.” She nodded understandingly.

“I would’ve been cautious with us too,” She admitted, to your surprise. “I was cautious for a while. Following someone blindly is how you get yourself killed.” She nodded towards the door. “His room. Figured you could wait here.” You nodded

“Thanks, Natasha,” You said, finding it almost unnatural sounding when you said her real name as opposed to her alias. She didn’t say another word, just smiling once more at you before turning on her heel and walking away. You watched her go, the whole conversation feeling very surreal, before letting yourself into Bucky’s room.

It was so big, you were unprepared for it. If you laid down on the floor, it would take at least seven more of you to reach the other side. Maybe the reason it looks so big was it was almost bare. The walls were a plain pale blue with no decoration coming from them. Not a shirt or sock could be seen on the floor as it was all neatly put away in either the armoire or the closet, which was opened enough for you to see shirts tidily lined up on hangers. The only scattered thing about this room was the desk in the corner, which was completely covered with papers and notebooks, with pictures and a calendar taped to the wall it stood in front of.

Without thinking, you moved towards the desk. On the wall were black and white pictures. One was a picture of Bucky with two women, you assuming them to be his mother and sister, all of them smiling widely at the camera. Bucky had his arm around the both of them. It was the him from the museum. The him you would never know. Curiosity got the better of you as you looked down at the line of papers and the calendar. The scribbles that filled the boxes on several days made you lean forward.

Connie. My 14th birthday party. Red haired girl’s name is Dot. Ma’s favorite dress. Fight with Rebecca’s boyfriend.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you wondered what these meant. On the floor next to the desk, you saw a small pile of more calendars. Setting down the flowers and picking one out of the stack, you flipped through it, catching more random tidbits like from the one hanging up.

Ma’s smile. Rebecca’s laugh. Steve. Newspaper in shoes. Zola. Sarah Rogers. Red haired girl. Howard Stark. Howling Commandos.

The more you read, the less you understood. What did all these mean? Setting the calendar back down, you looked back at the desk. The leather bound notebook was old and withered. The corners were worn, bent in and a different color from the rest of the dark covering. No, your conscience screamed. But you just couldn’t help yourself.

His handwriting was messy but legible. You flipped through pages, skimming to find anything of interest. You stopped when you came across a page with Steve’s picture taped to the inside. Steven Grant Rogers was scrawled across the top of the page. In bullet point style, there was a list of what looked like random things, but you assumed they were things that connected Bucky to Steve. You read through each one.

Tiny before serum

Howling Commandos

With you til the end of the line

Had him on the ropes?

Cyclone?

Punk

Stark expo

He threw up on the Cyclone

Coney Island

Sarah was his mom, died of tb

His list for Steve went on for multiple pages.

The pieces of your shattered heart sprinkled like dust on the carpet. Flipping through the book some more, something on a page towards the back made you stop. There was no picture attached to this one, just a name scribbled across the top.

Yours.

The flutter in your heart was so pronounced that you felt it throughout your whole body. Your list was confined to one page, unlike most of the others, but the fact that there was a page for you at all made you feel something so intense that you couldn’t even explain it. You could feel your heart swelling as you read through your list.

Saved my life

Called me babe

Sass

Sergeant Barnes.

Scared of the others for some reason

Doesn’t seem to be scared of me

Called me Bucky !

Not sure what it is about her but I-

“Not much of an interesting read.”

Slamming the book closed, you whirled around to find Bucky in the doorway, scratching the back of his neck. The two of you stared at each other for a while, the book still in your hand. Blood had rushed to your cheeks and you felt like the room was on fire.

“I’m surprised I was worth writing about,” You said, gently setting it back down on the desk. He shrugged, not making a sound for a while as he stared at the floor. You were starting to get anxious when he looked back up at you.

“My memory is shotty,” He admitted, looking back up at you. “I write down the things worth remembering. Just in case.” The thump in your chest made you visibly jump slightly. But the good feeling that had risen in your chest quickly disappeared when his eyes narrowed at you. “What are you doing here?” You quickly grabbed the roses.

“I brought you these.” You smiled widely at him as you lifted them up for him to see. “I thought that since you, you know, bought me flowers when I helped you, that I should return the favor. It was supposed to be funny, like it’s our thing. To buy each other flowers when we save the other from death. But I’m… now realizing it probably looks really stupid so I’m sorry about that.” You put your hand over your mouth so that you would stop talking. The corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly, as if he was holding back a smile.

“What happened?” He asked quietly, and you didn’t need to ask him what he was referring to. You looked down at the floor, sighing before looking back up at him.

“My family was killed by the Avengers.” The words hung in the air for a while, filling the room. Bucky shifted his weight to his other left, his head hanging to the side as he watched you with sad eyes. You looked away. “It was when New York got attacked all those years ago, the first time the Avengers were ever seen together. They were meeting me at a restaurant in Little Italy, but traffic was insane.” You began to blink more rapidly as your eyes began to sting. “They couldn’t get out of the way in time. One of the Avengers threw a truck or something large at a ship and it missed and hit a building. Large piece fell off. Landed on their car.” You nodded slowly, your eyes on the carpet. “That morning I had parents and a little sister. That night… I had nothing.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I left school for a while, worked as a waitress. I worked so much that it was distracting. I did that for a year, until I woke up one morning and just thought… what the fuck am I doing?So I got my shit together.” You inhaled deeply, pressing your lips together as you looked back up at him. “The whole thing… I wouldn’t say it made me resent the Avengers. I’m not stupid. I know mistakes happen. I’m not the only person who’s lost someone. But it…” You paused, choosing your words carefully. “It made them scare the absolute shit out of me.” This time, Bucky was the one looking at the ground. “That’s why I got squirrelly. Every time I saw them, and even you at first… it reminded me of everything I had lost.” You sighed. “So I’m sorry it felt like I was fucking around with you. I just didn’t know what to do.” You took a few small steps forward, making Bucky look back up at you. The scent of the flowers wafted in your direction as you extended them towards him. His smile was wide and genuine, unmissable, this time as he took them from you. As he pressed his nose into them, inhaling deeply, you took this chance to look him over.

His shirt was red, hugging his body just so you could see how toned it was underneath. For whatever reason, you never noticed how big he was. It didn’t even occur to you when he was carrying you out of the building like you didn’t weigh a thing. Everyone always talked about how big Steve Rogers was, but Bucky was just as buff. It intimidated you slightly, but not as much as it attracted you to him. He looked up from the roses.

“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type,” He quoted, making you smile even wider at him. He looked over at the desk before looking back at you. “How much did you read?” You smirked.

“I was just starting to get to the interesting stuff when you so rudely interrupted,” You retorted. He snickered.

“I uh…” He looked around the room at anything except for you, reaching back to scratch the back of his neck again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after you saved me and then visited me in the hospital and I just… wrote it down. I was hoping that writing it would make me stop thinking about you but- that didn’t really work. That’s when I had Tony find you.” His cheeks turned a deep red, which made you giggle. “And then you came around again and everything happened and I couldn’t shake you.” You looked around the room before your eyes found Bucky again.

“You, erm, you make me nervous,” You told him, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Not in the ‘You scare me’ sort of way, but in the ‘You overwhelm me’ sort of way… I don’t know what it is… and for some reason, even you being an Avenger wasn’t enough to scare me away from you.” Your shoulders went up and down again.

Bucky crossed the room, taking a seat on his bed with the roses resting on his lap. The two of you stood in a comfortable sort of silence. Your confession as well as his own were floating around the room, as if waiting for one of you to address the other. But neither of you dared to speak, instead just continuing to stare at each other. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Thank you again for helping me out of the wreckage and I’m sorry for leaving you,” You said softly, your hand sliding up to grip the handle of your purse. “I should probably go.” You began to head towards the door, but stopped when Bucky cleared his throat.

“Or,” He said, shrugging his shoulder and tilting his head to one side. “You could stay for a little bit.” You bit back a smile.

“You want me to stay,” You said as more of a statement than a question.

“Sure,” He said simply. You could tell that he was also fending off a smile of his own. “I was about to make myself some dinner, I could also make you some. We can… just talk.” You laughed.

“It would probably be the first time we would actually hang out with each other in a normal way,” You said as you considered his offer. “No hospitals, no near death experiences. We’re really breaking away from our usual routine.” He laughed the most genuine laugh you had ever heard come out of him. Something about it made your heart sing.

“So is that a yes?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and smiling at you. For a second, you thought about saying no. There was still something about this whole thing that made you nervous. Especially with the rest of the Avengers being around and you not being fully comfortable with them yet. But there was something about the way his eyes twinkled under the skylight that made him so irresistible. You thought about your parents. They would never want you to give up on the possibility of being happy for their sake. Not even in this case. And you knew that for a fact. You let your bag slide down your shoulder and onto the floor before slipping off your shoes.

“Fine,” You told him, making him smile in satisfaction. “But this dinner you make me better be the best damn dinner I’ve ever had.”

“Oh please,” He said, standing up and leading you out of his room towards the kitchen. “I’ve been on this planet for over a hundred years now. I’ve picked up a thing or two when it comes down to cooking a good meal.” You laughed, looking up at him and wondering how you ever had a doubt about him at all.

_________________________________________

Tags

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[maggieisalarrie]

18 by aclosetlarryshipper

Harry hates Golden Boy Louis and he's pretty sure the feeling's mutual. It's too bad they're forced into parenthood together during the home ec baby project.

Featuring accidental fathers, an improv performance gone wrong, and an altruistic game of spin the bottle.

(15k) 

Ain't That A Kick In The Head! by lesbianharrie & wreckingtomlinson 

“Well.” Niall unlocks his phone. “It wasn’t getting the traction I wanted on Snapchat. So…I tweeted it.”

What.

“You tweeted it,” Harry states, nearing a state of brain dead. “To your ten thousand followers.”

Niall nods, handing Harry the phone. “You’re a meme, Harry.”

“I’m a what?”

“A meme. It’s like an internet—”

“I know what a fucking meme is, Niall! Why did you make me into one?”

Niall has the fucking balls to cackle at that while Harry looks at the mess his former friend created. Videos of him screaming at Tomlinson about Tide Pods and his ass are being quoted and combined with memes to a create a level of memeception Harry has never seen before. That isn’t even including the thousands of tweets of him falling up the stairs remixed with random Top 40 songs.

~

In which Harry’s a disaster gay who doesn’t know shit about soccer, Liam drinks too many blue raspberry Coolattas, Niall knows everyone, Zayn looks dead, and Louis is Not Happy about sharing his breakout moment with “Drunk Hawaiian Guy.”

(22k)

More under the cut! 

All My Friends Are Here by abrighteryellow 

He is about to decline, though. If he has to sit through forced merriment, the least he can do is avoid participation at all costs. He is about to, but then the guy with the microphone is looking out into the crowd. He’s saying things, too — about rules and prizes and team names. At least, Louis assumes so. He can’t really hear him over the ringing in his ears.

“Alright, mate. I’ll play.”

A pub quiz has invaded Louis’s favorite dive. Fortunately, it comes with a charming host.

(3k)

all we are is a bittersweet sundown by loupancake 

Sequel to chances under the purple sunrise by loupancake

After the death of Harry's father, the merman king of the Atlantic Ocean, Harry has to step up and prove his strength to be the next true king. With the company of Louis, who he's been writing letters to for three long months, they embark on a quest throughout all the oceans before the last of the late king's magic runs out.

(101k) 

Caught My Attention by kassio

Reason #27 - Your one chance with a celebrity.

When he managed to stop ogling Harry's body and look up, the first thing Louis noticed was that Harry’s face was probably the most perfect face he’d ever seen. He’d seen him in that film, but he was even better in person. Maybe it was the smile.

The second thing he noticed was that that smile was directed at him. He’d been caught staring. Harry’s smile only widened when Louis locked horrified eyes with him. He tilted his head curiously, and his eyes flicked down Louis’ body. “Who’s this?”

Louis had been around long enough to know when someone was checking him out. He hadn’t expected to see that look from Harry fucking Styles.

(13k) 

chances under the purple sunrise by loupancake 

Inspired by & Based on Neon--Diamonds' Fanart “You’ve been taking my shoes?” Louis asked, scoffing. “I paid a lot for them!”

“How unfortunate for you.” Harry smiled bitterly. He peeked over Louis, eyeing the hook that still had the worm.

The red box was open right next to him. Harry saw that inside, it had a couple of transparent containers that were filled with worms, too. He eyed Louis skeptically before nodding. “Right. I’ll give you your, er…. little boats back if you let me have the tub of worms.”

A groan crawled out from Louis, his head falling back and his eyes landing up at the clear sky. “I need those.”

“They’re food for myself and others, not to be used as bait.”

*

Or the one where Harry is a merman, prince of the Atlantic Ocean, whose curiosity and healthy envy takes over him and he steals Louis' shoes every time he fishes.

(29k) 

Enjoy The Ride by 2tiedships2 

“Stop sulking and get up. I have a proposition to make.”

“Niall?” Louis questioned. “Do you think I should put glow in the dark stars on my ceiling?”

He looked over and found Niall giving him an unimpressed look.

“So, no?” Louis asked. “No stars?”

“We’re going on a road trip,” Niall stated.

Louis looked back at his starless ceiling and waved farewell to Niall. “Cool. Have fun!”

“No, you idiot.” Niall let out a frustrated sigh. “You, me, Liam, and Harry.”

Louis glanced over to Niall and back to the ceiling. “Who’s Harry?”

Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

(11k) 

Every Piece of You (It Just Fits Perfectly) by allwaswell16 

Louis has settled into his job as the reigning monarch’s charity representative as well as his life as a reluctant member of the royal family, but what he wants most is for his relationship with Harry to become something more.

Harry finds himself as consumed as ever by his career as a high fashion stylist, but he vows to make more room in his life for Louis. He’s decided he’s going to start the New Year off with a ring.

A remix of ‘Why Can’t It Be Like That’ by taggiecb that takes place one year later.

(8k) 

I Didn't Fall For You (You Fucking Tripped Me) by allwaswell16 

These days Louis tends to steer clear of dating alphas. He’s dated too many knotheads in his time, and he’s ready to just focus on school and his friends and his pet monitor lizard, of course.

Too bad the alpha next door won’t take a hint and stop using the worst pick up lines of all time on him. He’s really got to stop laughing with him--and talking to him and walking to class with him and letting him bring him coffee and tea and gifts for his lizard and watching Netflix together and...

(15k) 

In All Its Imperfections by BriaMaria 

From: Louis Tomlinson To: Undisclosed Recipients

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

"What happened, mate?" Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?”

(15k) 

Inconceivable by alivingfire 

Sometimes, Harry thinks, there's something there. The spark in his belly isn't just happening to him, surely. Surely Louis feels that rush too, that blossoming heat in his blood when their fingers brush.

But no. No, Louis treats Harry like a best friend—and it's an amazing thing, so wonderful, Harry wouldn't trade his friendship with Louis for anything—and there's no room for anything else. Not between them.

But Louis adores Niall. It’s clear, obvious in their comfort together. Harry and Louis still have something that keeps them from that, something making things more loaded with possibility, more intense. Like magnets with the same pole, an invisible force pushing them back—maybe that’s Harry’s crush, a barrier keeping them apart. Louis and Niall’s friendship is easy, whatever is between Louis and Harry is something else. Weighted.

Which is fine. It's good. Niall clearly loves Louis back, so it's great.

And Harry can just keep lying to himself for the rest of eternity.

Louis and Barbara Tomlinson are twin brother and sister. Harry's in love with Louis, Niall's in love with Barbara, and they both go by Tommo. It gets a little confusing.

(23k) 

Just To See That Smile by homosociallyyours 

It's Coming Out Week at university, and Harry's taken on a lot of responsibilities to make everything run smoothly. Finding his roommate's boyfriend attractive is making that a bit difficult, unfortunately. It might help if he realized that said boyfriend (Louis) is really just there to help said roommate (Liam) figure out if Liam's crush (Zayn) likes him back.

But that would make things too easy.

A fic where a hastily faked relationship and a lot of miscommunication almost ruins a perfectly good dance.

(7k) 

Love's On The Line, Is That Your Final Answer? by PearlyDewdrops 

Harry can’t believe it when Louis, the boy he’s always had a tempestuous rivalry with, asks him to be his boyfriend. Well, pose as his boyfriend, that is—for a new television game show in which young couples are quizzed on how well they know each other for a jackpot of thirty grand.

Reluctantly, Harry agrees—because he's got student loans to pay off, hasn't he? What's the harm? And he can totally deal with keeping his secret thing for Louis under wraps too. This is all just to win some money. It's fine. No big deal. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, everything. Obviously.

(53k) 

Maybe, Baby by thoughtsickles 

It all feels too easy, too good to be true. It all feels like a scene from Louis' daydreams, the kind of life he'd always imagined he'd have when he was younger and bored at his momma's work, sneaking around the hallways of the maternity ward until the nurses let him in to hold the babies. He'd felt so important being allowed to touch them. He'd told them stories of the lives they were going to have, houses with nice wallpaper that wasn't peeling, yards filled with sunshine and flowers and grass that never went yellow. A hammock to nap in, cuddled up with his husband.

You can't stay here, he tells himself, but Baby doesn't want to listen.

****

Louis runs away. Harry finds him.

(16k) 

Once Upon a Dream by objectlesson 

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

--

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

(27k) 

Own the Scars by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks)

“But I don’t belong here,” Louis insists. “Why do you say that?” James asks. “These people are all drug addicts and alcoholics,” Louis shrugs. Something sparks in James’ eyes. “And you’re not?”

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

(145k) 

signs and wonders by scrunchyharry 

On the surface, it looks like Louis Tomlinson has the perfect life; after all, he has the whole package: a white picket fence house (well, his doesn’t technically have a white picket fence, but work with him), a wife, a daughter and a dog. He has it all and he’s not even 30, yet.

On the surface, he could be the happiest man in the world.

The thing is, he never wanted this life. There was this boy, see, this Harry Styles, whose arrival made Louis question everything he thought he knew about himself. Before Louis could pursue it, though, before he could be brave and ask the boy out, one moment of bad luck on prom night, one single lapse of judgment, shaped his life in a way he never would have chosen. Between doing the right thing or turning into his own absent father, he knew what he had to do, even if it meant burying his dreams under the weight of a premature adulthood.

That is, until he receives an invitation for his school’s ten year reunion and sees that Harry will attend.

Could it be his second chance at happiness? At what cost?

(29k) 

Staring Across the Room by allwaswell16 

Harry Styles has a great life. He’s a children’s librarian at the New York Public Library, he’s got wonderful friends, and he loves cooking, green tea, yoga, and his collection of bow ties. He doesn’t mind that his life seems a little structured, maybe even a little boring. But when Louis Tomlinson joins the library staff as the new Installation Coordinator, things become a lot less predictable. Louis gets under his skin right from the start, bossing Harry around, making noise during story time, and eating the last cupcake in the staff lounge. Louis may be almost offensively attractive, but Harry will not be succumbing to Louis Tomlinson’s charms, even if the rest of the library staff have.

(27k) 

Stars Will Align For Us by 2tiedships2 

"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.

Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"

"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."

Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.

Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

(16k) 

The End Should Be A Good One by bananasandboots 

It doesn't feel like falling in love, the way it had felt the first time around, easy, simple, almost like floating, wrapped up in a whirlwind of touches and kisses, late nights spent laughing breathlessly into each other's skin. This feels broken, complicated, like every move carries the weight of their past. Like the floorboards beneath them could collapse at any moment. This doesn't feel good.

Or, the one where Harry loses the love of his life on New Years Eve and finds him again, six months later, ready to open some poorly-stitched wounds.

(43k) 

through the jungle through the dark by YesIsAWorld 

Louis and Harry were best friends, until they weren’t. Five years after they last spoke they’re forced to drive cross-country to visit an injured friend. If they can’t get over the past, it will be a very long week together.

(13k) 

Wild Love by purpledaisy 

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

(131k) 

Worth a Thousand Words by TheIfInLife 

“Look, I’m learning some new stuff!”

My name is Louis. My favorite color is green. I like movies. Do you know sign language?

Harry huffed grumpily. Why are you learning sign language?

“Because, I want to be able to talk to you.” Louis looked small, gripping tightly at the steering wheel.

Why?

You’re my friend. Louis signed shakily, having to try it a few times before getting it right. And well, Harry just snapped.

We’re not friends. I don’t know what makes you think that we’re okay but we’re not. You stopped being my friend once you found out that I went deaf. I don’t know if this is your way of ‘making up for it’ or if you think that hanging out with the deaf guy and learning a bit of sign language is your ‘kind deed’ to the world but I don’t want to be your charity case and I don’t want to be your friend. or Harry went deaf at 5 years old and Louis just wants the chance be heard.

(8k) 

[selenelavellan]

Coffeeshop ii for Dirthalene?

I’m worried about your coffee dependency

This…got a little out of hand

Dirthamen, Deceit, Fear, and Nona are all @feynites

Selene has a routine.

A routine that involves getting coffee at the same shop threetimes a day. It’s not really a strange quirk, she thinks; lots ofprofessors depend on caffeine to get through the day, and the cafedown the street gives her a college discount and a punch card.Besides, people are supposed to eat three times a day, anyways.

So she drinks her calories instead of chews them; who cares?

As it turns out, her barista does.

She doesn’t realize it until she is back in the classroom,students already filing into the room while she takes her first sipfrom her drink and very nearly spits it back out.

That is not her order.

It’s too late to go back though; she’s scheduled to lecture forthe next two hours, and she has another hour and a half class twentyminutes after this one.

Not that that stops her from storming back to the cafe once bothclasses are over, and asking for the person who made her drink as shehands over her receipt. 

They’ve gone home already she’s told, but should be backin for the morning shift.

’Well Dirthamen,’ she frowns, looking down at where theyhad circled his name when they handed her back her receipt, ’I hopeyou don’t make the same mistake tomorrow.’

Except that he isn’t there when she goes in the morning. Butthe barista covering for him makes her order correctly, so Selene doesn’tbother making a fuss. One drink out of several hundred beingincorrect is not the worst track record for a cafe anyways, shesupposes. Possibly he was having an off day, and she’s makingmountains out of molehills.

Or so she tells herself, until she nearly spits out her lunchcoffee.

She spins back around in her heels and pencil skirt, and takes thefew steps back into the coffee shop, trying to read the baristas name tag while he bustles through the prep area.

Aha!

“Excuse me,” She says, placing hercup down on the counter, looking directly at the man whose name tagreads Dirthamen “This isn’t what I ordered.”

“That is true,” He says,without pausing from stirring the next customers order.

Selene blinks. “You knew?”

“Yes,” He says calmly, handinga coffee to the woman standing beside her.

“What if I’m allergic to this?”

He hesitates. “The flavors andcontents of the drink are exactly the same as you ordered. Unless youare allergic to a lack of caffeine, it is unlikely you are allergicto anything in that drink.”

“You gave me decaf?” Selenehisses.

“I am concerned about your caffeinedependency.”

“I teach at the college five days aweek! I need caffeine to function.”

“That belief is often what leads toissues like dependency and addiction, even to long term healthproblems that include but are not limited to-”

“Are you a doctor?” Seleneinterrupts.

He shakes his head slowly. “No.”

“And you don’t know me.”

“…No.”

“Then you have no right to change myorder without permission. Please remake my drink, caffeine intact.”

Dirthamen frowns, and hesitates beforedisappearing through a door in the back. Selene waits for a fewminutes, keeping one eye on the clock on the wall before he reappearsand opens the register. He hands her back a small pile of change andbills and closes the drawer.

Selene blinks down at the money in herhand.

“What is this?”

“A refund,” He states plainly.

“I don’t need a refund,” Selenefrowns. “I need a new drink.”

“My…manager informed me that I am notallowed to refuse a customer a drink they have already paid for,”He explains before pointing at a sign on the wall. “But since you nowhave a full refund, I am permitted to refuse you service.”

Selenes eyes widen. “I-you-what?”

“It is for your own good.”

Selene blinks, and stuffs the moneyinto her purse. “This is-you realize you’re a barista refusing toserve coffee, yes?”

“I do, yes.”

“Did-did I offend you, somehow?”

“No. You have been a very kindcustomer for a long time now, in fact. You are one of the morepleasant faces that we see each day.”

“I…can I speak to your manager,please?”

Dirthamen nods, and a very small womanslowly walks out of the door he had disappeared behind once again.

“Hello dear,” She greets. “Howcan I help you?”

“Hello,” Selene smiles back “I’vebeen coming here for nearly a year now, and for some reason Dirthamenhas suddenly decided that I can’t have caffeine in my coffee anymore.Is there anyway you could maybe talk to him about-”

“Oh, yes yes,” The older womanlaughs. “He’s quite taken with you, you know. He’s just worriedabout your health. He recently took a health certification class incase a customer needs CPR, and once he’s found a new interest, it’sdifficult to get him focused on anything else.”

“…Right,” Selene nods slowly, notreally comprehending anything at all and getting increasingly anxiousabout being late to her next class. “So, about my coffee…?”

“I’m afraid Dirthamen is the only oneworking right now, it’s just a small cafe after all,” the old womansays without even a hint of remorse. “If he says no, I have torespect that. Did he give you the refund? I’d be more than happy tooffer you a free decaf, or one of our specialty teas if you’d like.”

“I don’t suppose you have ananti-sleepytime tea by any chance?” 

The old woman laughs again. “No, myapologies. They’re all herbal with little to no caffeine content.Would you like one for the road? It might help you unwind.”

“No, thank you,” Selene grumbles,officially having to leave if she has any hope of not being late.“I’ll just-I’ll figure something else out.”

“Of course dear. Do take carenow,” The woman smiles as she walks Selene out.

Selene is in such a daze on her wayback (A coffee shop who refuses to sell coffee? What is the worldeven coming to, some things are meant to be constants or everythingis just chaos) she’s already at her desk before she notices thesandwich the manager must have slipped into her hand.

As she takes a reluctant bite from thegrowling of her stomach, she has to admit that it’s one of the bestturkey sandwiches she’s ever had.

–

Her feud with Dirthamen doesn’t easeup, and Selene decides to take drastic measures after being readthe tea list so many times she can nearly recite it in her sleep.

She alternates her routine.

It means waking up nearly two hoursearlier, to get to the shop at 5am instead of 7, and as she finishesher order, she sees Dirthamen walk in the door to start his shift. Heblinks at her, and a burst of what she assumes is pure stubbornnessrises up in her chest as she looks at the sharp nosed man at theregister and asks for two extra shots of espresso in her drink.

She makes direct eye contact with Dirthamen as she takes a scalding hot sip of her extra caffeinated drink andsteps out the door.

The burnt tongue is almost worth it forthe small sense of victory it gives her.

–

The next time she goes in at 5am,Deceit tells her he’s been given explicit instructions from Dirthamenand ‘Nona’ (the manager and apparent owner, she has to assume) not togive her more than a single serving of caffeine in a day.

It’s war, is what it is.

For lunch, she cashes in one of herfavors to her co worker, Melanadahl, to get her drink for her.

“Why not just go to one of the otherhundreds of coffee shops in the city?” He asks, handing over herchange and coffee. 

Sweet, caffeinated coffee.

“It’s not the same,” Selene shrugs“This is the only place that serves fair trade Rivaini beans at afair price, and the Fereldan brews from most of the chain stores giveme stomach aches.”

Melanadahl just shakes his head beforefreezing and tapping her shoulder. Selene looks up from her drink andfollows his line of sight.

Nona is standing on the other side ofthe glass door, arms crossed over her chest disapprovingly.

Selene gives her a sheepish grin,holding her cup up in cheers before dashing off down the street.

Guess this trick won’t work again, shesighs.

–

The next morning, Dirthamen is the oneat the register.

“Working the overnight shift?”She asks with an eyebrow raise as she steps up to the counter.

“Deceit had other plans, and asked meto cover for them,” He informs her. “Would you like to try one ofour teas?”

“Sure.”

“Are you sure?  We have earl grey,chamomile, mango-…Did you say 'sure’?”

Selene nods. “The mango sounds good.I think something fruity would be best.”

Dirthamen seems slightly taken aback,and mildly hopeful as he rings her up and prepares her tea.

It almost makes her feel bad for whatshe’s about to do.

Almost.

She thanks him for the tea, and atleast has the decency to take it out of eye shot of the cafe beforeshe takes the five hour energy out of her pocket and dumps it intoher drink.

“I saw that,” Calls a familiarvoice.

Selene goes stock straight, turningaround to look at the shortest of the cafes baristas; Fear.

“Saw what?” she attempts.

Fear holds their hand out for the emptyplastic canister, and Selene reluctantly hands it over.

“Do you all give this sort ofrestriction to all of your customers?”

“Not all of our customers visit threetimes a day,” they shoot back. “Do you actually eat food, or doyou run entirely on fumes?”

“Of course I eat-”

“What, dinner?”

“Yes, dinner-”

“Prove it.”

“Fine! How?”

“Friday. There’s a nice diner on 5th.What time does your last class get out?”

“Nine,”

“We’ll meet you at nine thirty then,”They nod, tucking the empty energy drink into their pocket. “Trynot to give yourself a heart attack before then.”

“Fine! I’ll be there, alive andwell!” She calls back to their retreating figure before she stops.

Did she….did she just agree to go ona date with her war baristas?

Oh.

Fuck.

[penguinsocksworks]

Diaries of the Unwilling

Awhile ago @handthigh requested a small sequelish thing to How to Win A Tsundere’s Heart so here it is! 

They’re the last entry to the Tsundere’s Diaries that explains their past a bit and how they came to be how they are. Warning:There’s talk of homophobia (not towards them) and this is def not my best work but then again when do I ever write anything good oops. There’s also not a ton of shipping stuff so.

Also, these sort of deal with a bit darker of topics. I am so sorry if I ever overstep bounds, I am getting all of my information off of either other stories that I have read or experiences from my own life or people I know. If I ever over step somewhere, please tell me so I may fix it.

Read on AO3 or FF.net

Dearest Diary,

Life hasn’t always been easy. It never really is for anyone, but it’s just a bit tougher on some people.

When I was younger I had three older brothers and another younger one on the way. And well… it wasn’t easy. My oldest brother had issues of his own that seemed to hurt me almost as much as it hurt my parents. Older brothers were supposed to be the ones who took care of the younger ones. Or at least that’s the way society and books always depicted the normal family household as. But I learned at an early age that books are an escape from reality, not reality itself.

My brother wasn’t abusive or anything, he just had demons I suppose. They haunted him, and made him do bad things like smoke and drink and have a shit ton of sex with random hussies. My parents had to watch him carefully.

The twins, my other older brothers, got into trouble in a different way. They seeked attention in ways that included breaking random things and blaming it on me or each other. Which demanded another good portion of my parents attention.

And of course, dear Peter. I despised him for a while. The only way I had gotten any real care from my parents was from being the baby. My parents of course were the best parents that they could have been. Wish they would've learned how to properly use a condom, or stop trying for a girl when they already had a few problem children. But they were parents I still wouldn't trade. Peter did nothing to deserve my years of detestation, and I realized that somewhere in my late junior high years. I wish that I had come to that conclusion faster, then maybe we could have banned together. He was the one who truly had it bad.

Yes, I had to take care of Allistor for a number of years. Grow up faster than I should have had to. But I was never alone.

My neighbor, Alfred and his younger twin brother Matthew were always there to play with me. To hang out with me whenever Allistor was acting up or the twins were being reprimanded. I always had a place to call safe and I was always surrounded by people who cared about me truly.

I wish I could have realized that I didn’t need my parents undying attention or love because I had someone else’s. I just never took the time to notice.

But poor Peter was always alone. Coddled like there was no tomorrow, but born so many years after the rest of us that he was alone in ways that didn’t necessarily mean not being surrounded by people. I should visit more often.

My childhood conclusion was that love was something to be desired, but never obtained. Because people can say that they love you, maybe even show it on certain occasions, but it’s something that was always taken back. Fleeting.

Allistor had come back heartbroken and fucked up too many times for me to not believe it. And my parents had broken too many promises for me to be skeptical of a ten year olds conclusion about one of the most powerful forces in the world. Universe.

And that was my belief on the matter for a great number of years. I saw no flaws with it.

But remember that childhood friend? My neighbor? Alfred, not Matthew (though I do care about him too). He’s weird. An anomaly in my otherwise perfect data. I thought of him as nothing but a friend for a long time, maybe because I’ve never thought that I should be liking people as something else. I was like my parents, never good with promises, so how could I promise my love to another person? I never allowed myself to think that way, maybe a passing thought if someone was particularly attractive, but I never thought that I should be someone who would be in a committed relationship.

It was just obvious to me, it was something that only truly great people were worthy of.

It’s not that I thought lowly of myself. It was more just a matter of fact for me. People who were in love or relationships we’re not people like me. Nothing in common. Simple as that.

Alfred had always been someone special to me though. My junior high self would have called it what best friends felt towards other best friends.  My last year self would have called it stupid, and just an Alfred thing. But my now self knows it’s much more than that.

As you have heard, my dear diary, there have been a number of events that have happened. Each one different and unique and leaving me feeling stranger than the last. This year was something of an adventure.

Alfred always had a way of making reality seem like a storybook.

He’s my everything now. He could have possibly been like this for me since forever ago considering the layers of denial i’ve been buried under. It’s weird for me to even say something like this in my head. It’s such a foreign concept, and I haven’t quite gotten used to it. Me, Arthur Kirkland, in a loving relationship with a wonderful person. It sounds like a lie.

He holds my hand now like he used to hold my hand back when we were kids. I was always a bit of a klutz and he would have to help me walk along the rocks whenever we played by the river. It makes me wonder if he’s always felt this way about me. And if he has, I wonder how many times he thought of just stopping.

I remember how hard junior high would’ve been without him.  He can make the rest of the world disappear without even thinking about it, and I’d only be able to focus on how much better he was than I at simple card games or drawing trees. It distracted me from Allistor's growing suspension record. The twins havok. Peter’s relentless crying. For the hours we were together it was just us two. He always distracted me from anything else going on, it was like he was magical. He is magical. The number of times I came to him crying only to leave smiling less than an hour later is too high to count. He was always there, and I took it for granted for many years without even truly knowing that I was. I wonder if he knew. I wonder if he ever was ever sick of me coming to him for help.

These past few months were something out of a hellish dream. Alfred pulled stunts that I wouldn’t have ever believed if I hadn’t lived through them. He’s brash and loud, but patient and willing to do anything for me. Which I think is the most wonderful thing in the entire universe. He never snapped at me, and I think he knew that I wasn’t going to believe that he loved me more than a friend the first time. Or the second. Or third. Or fourth. I must have been stressful and frustrating to deal with a number of times, but he never showed it. If I were to trust my heart to anyone, it would be him. I can say that now with confidence. I hate myself for making him have to prove it to me so many times. It wasn’t my intention to be this difficult. I wonder if he ever thought that I wasn’t worth all of this trouble.

I wish I could repay Alfred for not giving up on me, god knows it must have been pretty damn hard.

My life isn’t as sad as this entry makes it out to be. Reading this over, I sound like a rather depressing person with a lot of self-worth and emotional issues (not that I don’t have any). I’m actually a fairly happy person if you know me. Grumpy and annoyed sometimes, but I’m happy with how my life has turned out and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Especially now.

Alfred is going to call me from America in twenty minutes. And he’s going to make it seem as if the time and distance that has separated us is nothing more than a dream by telling me he loves me. And I’m going to say it back. And well, that’s more than I ever thought I was going to get.

Sincerely,

Arthur Kirkland

Dear Diary,

I suppose I’ve only written in you whenever something catastrophic happens or whenever I needed to let something out. And this time isn’t really different.

I don’t have a problem. Or more like, that is the problem. For the first time in my life I feel oddly… at peace. Maybe this is more of Matthias’ doing.

I was a kid who was moved around for a good portion of my life and had seen some things that kids probably weren’t supposed to. All things for my growing years were temporary.

As I have mentioned briefly before, I have two mothers. You’d think that in this day an age that wouldn’t be a problem. Tumblr would probably have a fit if they found out what my parent’s had to go through while I was growing up.

Growing up probably isn’t the right term for it, maybe until I was seven and we finally settled down in a nice town that didn’t care about us. But before then it was weird. I never really had much time to make attachments and my cold persona that I put on kept other kids from talking to me. So I guess when Matthias came up to me that time during recess I was too surprised to say anything to thwart him off. I never made new friends. After you lose the first twenty from either moving or discrimination you learn.

By the time Matthias decided he wanted to be my friend I was already quite skeptical of affection. It was a word that existed in my dictionary, but was exclusively for family. My moms taught me that love was love no matter what and that they would love me regardless of who I was. It was unconditional. It came from years of being told the opposite and I wasn’t immune to hearing what people said about them. My mom and mor are the strongest people I know, and I hope Emil never has to see them the way I have.

Broken and damaged.

I love my mothers. I never want them to cry or feel bad. But at six or seven there isn’t much you can do. Other parents would whisper and I could feel my mor’s grip on my hand tighten whenever she would come to pick me up. On days when everyone’s staring got to be too much she would cry at night. She still wore a bright smile for me though, and I even got pancakes and a sorry. But she didn’t have anything to be sorry for.  I’m highly aware that people call me antisocial and I think they think it’s because other kids bullied me into being that way. I think my parents blame themselves for how I act now, but they really shouldn’t.

It wasn’t their fault. It was everyone else’s. All the people who didn’t see that love was a natural right.

I wasn’t sure who I could trust when I was younger. Most kids didn’t understand why I had two mothers, but if I explained it to them they wouldn’t really think too much of it. That’s the thing with most kids, they’d make a face at most, maybe the mean ones would tease, but more often than not it would be like explaining why it rained to a kid. Okay now they know, still don’t really get it, but eh. Whatever lets just go back to playing tag. Kids are one thing, they didn’t know about social norms, it was their parents that I had to worry about.

I protected myself from the ones that would be ripped away from our friendship the moment that their parents found out about mine, sure. But I knew that it hurt my moms more than it hurt me. It took me awhile to notice. Why all the kids wouldn’t want to play with me anymore, and then why we had to move again. We could never find a place to call home. A place where it was safe to be us.

I started to lie. A lot. I’d tell my parents that things were fine at school and that I had a lot of friends. I don’t think I’d ever seen them so happy or relieved. But the cold truth was that I didn’t make friends. I’d distance myself from the other kids, because I knew that our friendships wouldn’t last. My friendships with other kids had only meant pain for my mom’s, and I sure as all hell didn’t want to be the reason they were sad. It’s easy to say you’re just going to ignore what everyone says, but it’s harder to do it.  

I think they thought that I was mute at one point. I talked less and less and lost that innocent smile my mom loved so much. I knew everything people said about them and I hated people for it. No one was worth smiling at, let alone my words. I wasn’t that innocent anymore since I knew how hard they had it. The metaphorical truck of how adulthood was shit hit me with its full force.

We moved again when we adopted my brother. My lies had worked and the only reason we were moving again was to get a bigger house. I had put on my whole cold and stoic, don’t talk to me attitude and marched into school.

I lied and said that I made five friends that day when the truth was that I played all alone.

The next day my lie was less of a lie. That was the day Matthias became my friend. It shocked me how much I enjoyed his company and I couldn’t let myself cut him off. It was a risk that my younger self was willing to take. And I thank god everyday that I did.

And then, as if by magic, my lie wasn’t a lie at all. I made friends with Matthias’ help, and he showed me how it’s okay to trust other people. I met Tino and Berwald and they are now two of my closest friends. I was still on edge, but it was the first time I ever considered staying friends with people.

My mom said I was smiling again, she cried when I asked if Matthias could come over.

Matthias’ parents are never home. Maybe that’s part of the reason why I trusted him. He opened up to me the second day we hung out at lunch in a very Matthias fashion. Nonchalant for a serious topic. He still had his childish innocence to break. His parents were always away and his babysitter didn’t speak much english, only danish. That day was also the day that I learned that danish wasn’t just something I got to eat when I was good.

But I think it was around that time that I found myself in a place where I didn’t have to worry. I haven’t seen my parents cry in grief since. They’re happy. They have each other and that’s all that really matters.

To be honest I think they knew I was lying before at my old schools. But with Matthias around, they didn’t have to worry about me anymore.

That isn’t to say that being friends with Matthias changed everything I thought. I was still not sure who I could trust with my feelings, who would judge me for being who I was. If humans had the capacity to make others tear themselves up over something as innocent as love then what chance did I stand? I knew in my heart that Matthias wouldn’t ever, but my brain said that logically he could.

I’m not sure how long it was before I was undeniably attached to him. I was able to make friends and function better in social situations because of him. I was able to place trust in humanity again because of him.

Love was something that everyone had a right too, but it had to be earned. You have to deserve it. To trust it.

I will probably spend my life trying to make myself worthy enough to deserve the amount of love Matthias has given me over the years. Spend my life trying to repay him for what he’s done for me and what I’ve put him through. But I know I won’t be alone.

This year was something else, with all that stuff that he pulled. He was willing to make himself look stupid for me. Willing to let others talk about him for me.

Matthias is a gift that I don’t think humanity deserves. He always sees the good in things. I hope he never changes. All his quirks are things I can’t get enough of. I love him and no amount of whisperings will ever change that fact.

~Lukas Bondevik

Dear Diary,

This is probably the fortieth time I’ve written that and I still sound like a fucking chick in a disney movie.

Did you know it’s easy to trick someone into thinking that you love them? My parents for example. My mother was left pregnant with twins, abandoned by the person that supposedly loved her. And then us, Feliciano and I, abandon by her. Then a few years later I saw that bitch again when she dropped Sebastian off and booked it the hell outta there.

My grandfather said that's part of the reason why I didn’t think loves real. Apparently children are very impressionable, because young minds are like sponges or some shit like that.

I never really thought of how my childhood affected how I thought. I suppose that in a sense I never really believed people when they said they loved me, or anything. But I thought that was normal, I mean. My biological parents loved each other one moment, then they didn’t. Who was to say that everyone wasn’t lying when they said that. We all do leave each other eventually because death is still a thing. It’s even in wedding vows, ‘till death do us part’.

Love is a lie. That was my strong belief for a while. All the examples of love that I was given had been terrible. My parents. My grandpa was divorced. My brother was coddled constantly by everyone else around us so I hated him for a while for it. Loved him like a brother was supposed to, but to me it wasn’t real love. Ergo, every time I said ‘love you Feli, night’ it was a lie. I love my brother now despite how air headed he can be, but i truly disliked him as kids.

I didn’t think that my beliefs would ever change, cause why the fuck would they? I’ve been told I’m pretty stubborn. I’m not going to say that girly shit like ‘the minute I met Antonio everything changed or the moment I realized I loved him my beliefs were #shook’ (yes Arthur, Lukas, I read what you guys wrote you pansies.) cause that would be another lie. Things started to change before I met him, it started with my brother.

My brother is a guy who can easily love, which puts my grandpa’s theory of ‘Lovino acts like that cause abandonment’ into question. As I said earlier, I hated him. But I guess over time he grew on me, in his own Feliciano way. By the time high school rolled around he, Sebastian, and grandpa were the only two people I loved with all my heart as mushy as that sounds. The whole love thing was growing on me I guess.

But love leaves. Feliciano and that stupid potato bastard are probably going to run off into a field of flowers and chocolate and then Sebastian the same with whoever he finds to love. Then it was just gonna be me and our grandfather till he kicks the bucket. Sure they’ll love me, but I’ll still be left alone.

Point being, love that doesn’t leave is a lie was my new thesis in high school. Oh hell yeah it exists, but not abandoning you? Yeah right. Maybe that old guy had some truth to his own theory.

It came to the point of how do you know someone’s not going to leave? Cause you never know, never can know for certain.

But you could trust someone not to leave.

How do you trust someone not to is the real question then I suppose. I put little faith into a lot of people. I asked people to do things, keep secrets, but not really expecting them to actually do it. Antonio was a person who wasn’t much different from the others.

Antonio’s stupid personality though. He always made me feel oddly comforted and safe, and I hated it. I started to trust him, I could feel myself starting to whenever he smiled at me and did whatever I asked. He saved my ass a bunch of times with random things, like homework excuses or late night coffee runs. I trusted him to be there when I needed him.

I still do.

Isn’t that something? I trusted him even before all the things that he did this year. This crazy fucking year. But I guess I never would have realized how much I actually did if it weren’t for all that stuff. My stupid subconscious trust.

But I don’t think that I’m going to give up that trust. Not till I join grandpa up with the angels, and then maybe not even then.

Reading this outloud to myself was painful, mostly cause this was the most I’ve ever talked about my past and all the weird feelings I get with Antonio. He’s someone I trust and its just that easy. I guess I’m going to have to live with the fact that I trust him for the rest of my life, no matter how terrifying that can be sometimes. Cause I love him.

From,

Lovino