#I’ve truly gotten drunk 1…..maybe 2 times

[forest-nature-7420]

I’ve realized, whenever I drink to get drunk I don’t get drunk. I get heavily intoxicated but not drunk in my opinion. The amount of alcohol I need to get drunk is just too much. And ooooooooo I LOVE a tipsy. 9 out of 10 times I’m aiming to get tipsy

[kim-seung-mo]

feel absolutely evil for this one but can i request the 18th headconon from the ot8 section of your idea list? i’ve got my tissues ready 💔💔

𝟚𝟜 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖�� 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 (ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟 + 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕙𝕠)

♩ gn!reader, angst angst ANGST, this is pure depression guys, crying, a lot of crying and suffering, character death, dealing with grief, car accident, mentions of firearms and getting shot, blood, just, just pain

♩♩ word count: 2.9k

♩♩♩ A/N: this turned out to be like 5 times longer than i expected so i decided to break it into sections, this part includes chan and minho, the next one will include changbin and hyunjin ( Ĭ ^ Ĭ ) (this was a lot of fun to write tho i'm kinda proud of myself) wip list here

Changbin and Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix

for convenience, your time of death is 12:00 AM

Chan

12:30 AM:

He gets a call from you, but when he picks up the phone, it's not your voice on the other end.

"You're their emergency contact, they just got into a pretty bad car accident..."

You were supposed to be on your way to pick him up.

1:00 AM:

He asked Minho to help him drive to the hospital because he knew something would definitely happen if he drove himself.

He was crying the whole way, his heart was beating wildly.

He didn't like it but had a bad feeling about this.

1:20 AM:

"We did everything we could...we are truly sorry for your loss."

1:40 AM:

He regrets it, all of it.

If he hadn't asked you to pick him up...

You wouldn't have gotten into that car, you wouldn't have encountered that drunk truck driver.....

You wouldn't have left him.

Alone, forever.

1:50 AM:

"Don't touch me! Don't take me away! I need to be here... I need to stay here with Y/N..."

"Y/N must be scared, all alone... It's so dark and scary here......my Y/N, they're a cry baby...they must be so scared ......"

2:20 AM:

The other members rushed to the hospital and together they advised Chan to go back to the dorm.

But he didn't listen, there was only one voice in his head.

"I need to stay by Y/N's side."

3:40 AM:

The hospital gate was blocked by the paparazzi, the news of "Stray Kids' leader Bang Chan's lover dies in a car accident" filled up the whole NAVER homepage.

4:30 AM:

Thanks to the efforts of the seven members, Chan was finally taken back to his home

Not the dormitory, but the home of the two of you.

There was still the meal you heated up for him on the table.

The bedroom light was still on, and your favorite music was still coming from inside.

Everything was so familiar, but he knew ......

His baby was never coming back to him.

5:30 AM:

The members all suggested that they could stay, but he just wanted to be left alone and undisturbed.

Lying in your shared bed, he could even feel your residual warmth.

The sun will be up soon, but he didn't couldn't sleep.

Usually at this time, you would kiss his forehead and tell him not to overwork himself.

You'd give him a glass of warm milk, adding vanilla and a little sugar.

You would be by his side......

6:45 AM:

He didn't know when he finally fell asleep, he only knew he was crying.

10:00 AM:

Awakening from his dream, he held hope for a second.

Maybe what had just happened was a dream?

But then he broke down again when he saw that there was no one besides him.

You were really gone.

You really were never coming back.

He was gonna be alone from now on.

11:00 AM:

The sun was fully up, but he had no desire to get out of bed.

He just wants to sleep forever, stay forever in your bed, wrapped in your scent.

He missed you so much...he really missed you......

"Y/N..."

He murmured to himself.

"Why did you leave me alone......"

1:00 PM:

Everyone in JYP started sending him messages telling him they were sorry, and that he needed to look past and move on.

But he didn't even come to terms with the fact that you had left in the first place.

Slowly walking into the bathroom, Chan looked at his face in the mirror.

Tear stains, dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, dry lips.

If you saw how he looks now, you'd be angry at him.

3:00 PM:

His tears seemed to have been unstoppable since last night as they never dried up.

The company has sent him a message telling him that he could take as much time off as he needs.

Everyone around him knew how much you meant to him.

You were his muse, his inspiration.

A bright future with you could even be considered his life goal.

But now there was nothing left.

5:00 PM:

He was hungry, his stomach kept growling.

But he didn't want to do anything except stay in your room.

He didn't dare to answer the phone when his mom called him.

Hannah and Lucas also called him.

But he really didn't want to see anyone right now, he didn't want to talk to anyone, he didn't want to think, he just wanted you.

He just wants you back.

And that was the only thing he couldn't have.

6:30 PM:

Your mother called him.

He had to answer this one.

"Chan...dear, we don't blame you, we will never blame you. You were the most important person to Y/N, Y/N loved you with all their heart. So please, don't blame yourself, stay strong, be strong for Y/N, for yourself."

He started to sob again, knowing that it was because of him, he took you away from your parents.

He took you away from them, forever.

7:30 PM:

After eating a little, he returns to your room.

He let out a pathetic chuckle.

His heart was aching, he was about to suffocate.

He was really about to suffocate.

It hurts to breathe, it hurts to do anything, it hurts to do everything.

It hurts to think about you, and it hurts even more to not think about you.

8:45 PM:

Someone was knocking on the door, Chan did not want to answer, but the doorbell kept ringing.

"Chan, we found Y/N's phone."

The person outside said, he knew the voice, it was a JYP staff.

Hearing this, he immediately opened the door.

10:00 PM:

After a long period of preparation, he finally opened your phone.

Your screensaver was a picture of him that you took in secret.

The first thing that popped up was the call record from last night.

Backing up to the main page, he faltered and clicked on messenger app.

You: channie i'm gonna go pick smt up from the farmacy, want me to come pick u up on the way? Channie sweetie❤: yeah sure that would be fine you: okieee love ya~ Channie sweetie❤: love ya too

He gave his first smile of the day that wasn't self-deprecating.

Tears dripped on the screen.

He just loves you so much.

12:00 AM:

It was going to be tough without you for sure.

He needed to learn to take care of himself, on his own.

He needed to get used to not having you leave meals and lights on for him at night, to not have someone always waiting for him.

He needed to get used to a cold, cold bed without your warmth or your goodnight kisses.

He needed to get used to not seeing you anymore, ever.

He needed to get used to being on his own from now on.

A year later, five years later, ten years later.

There will be no one else to make him feel as happy as he once did.

Minho

12:00 AM:

He knew that separation would come, and that people always experience separation one kind or another.

But he did not expect that it would be so early and so sudden.

Nor did he expect it to be forever.

He didn't even have time to say goodbye to you.

12:45 AM:

When he received the call from your father, he was practicing with Hyunjin and Felix in the dance practice room.

"Hello? Mr. Y/L/N? Why are you-"

"Minho-ah...I don't know how to say this to you, but ......"

About three hours ago, you were involved in a bank robbery and were chosen as a hostage by the bandits.

About an hour ago, the bandits tried to kill you, they shot you in the chest.

Doctors immediately performed resuscitation, but......

45 minutes ago, your heart stopped beating.

1:20 AM:

By the time Minho arrived at the hospital, your body had already been taken to the morgue.

"Minho-ah..."

He hugged your mother, pretending to be fine.

He was in pain now too, so much pain that he couldn't breathe.

But he knew your parents must be hurting more than him.

So at least for now, he needed to be fine.

Even if he was about to die from the pain.

1:55 AM:

"I'll take her home...Minho-ah, I know how hard it must be for you too right now......here's Y/N's jacket...you can take it."

Minho feebly took your jacket and stared straight at the ground.

The moment your parents turned to leave, the feelings that had accumulated inside burst out in a flash.

He slammed the wall repeatedly and forcefully.

He did not stop even when his knuckles were all covered in blood, he did not stop even when there were three doctors pulling him away.

Why? Why? Why must it be you?

Why did you have to do this to him? Why must he have his love taken away?

Why......

2:30 AM:

'He is horribly silent.'

That's what Changbin, who came to pick him up thought.

He was expecting a reaction of tears, of sobs, of yelling and anger, of incomprehensible and insane cries.

Not like this, currently, without saying a word, clutching your blood-soaked jacket, sitting silently in the back seat.

But what Changbin couldn't see was the bandaged hands that were clenched under the jacket.

What he can't see is the hostility in Minho's eyes.

4:00 AM:

It's not supposed to be like this.

Your house is not supposed to be so quiet.

When your kitten sees Minho come in from outside, he rubs against his leg.

Unbeknownst to this little fellow, his other owner was never coming home.

Minho dropped to his knees, startling the cat.

"It shouldn't be like this......"

He chuckled.

"It's all wrong."

5:00 AM:

For an hour he knelt where he was. His knees began to twitch and ache, and his calves went numb.

You were so strong, how could you just die like that?

You were smart, how could you let yourself be the hostage?

Why did it have to be you? Why did it have to be the one he loved?

He won't take it. He wasn't gonna take it. He will never take it.

"Wake up."

He began to slap himself, one after another, until his face turned red and even began to bleed.

But he wouldn't wake up.

Because it wasn't a dream.

7:00 AM:

When he stood up, he nearly fell right back to the ground.

He endured the pain on his face, the pain in his knee, the pain of his injury, and limped back to your bedroom.

He gets under the covers, puts his head on the pillow and looks at where you should be sleeping peacefully.

Smelling your scent, surrounded by the familiar aura, he closed his eyes.

He didn't know why he thought so, but he felt that, when he'd opened his eyes again, everything would go back to the way it was.

11:30 AM:

He was awakened by the movement of the cat.

He opened his eyes, you were still not there.

The pain in his body did not diminish at all, it was more painful than earlier.

The wounds on his hands, the wounds on his face, even the dull pain in the chest had multiplied.

Only now he also had a headache from only barely getting four hours of sleep.

After picking up your cat with one hand and tossing him off the bed, Minho headed for the bathroom.

11:45 AM:

Arriving in the kitchen, Minho took out two slices of bread.

When he finished cooking, he took out two plates.

Opening the drawer, he took out two forks.

He did for half an hour what could have been done in ten minutes.

Every little movement reminded him that there were supposed to be two people in the house.

12:50 PM:

After eating, Minho went to the living room and slumped on the couch.

He unconsciously looked to the door.

Like you were gonna push through the door the next second.

Though his heart told him again and again that it was impossible.

But even then, he kept looking over at the door every few minutes.

How pathetic.

1:30 PM:

The bank robbery last night was on the news.

"All three robbers have been apprehended, in the case -"

Before the newscaster finished, Minho turned off the TV.

It's playing surveillance footage from the bank.

He saw you.

For a second, the emotion he thought he had suppressed burst forth again.

4:30 PM:

What a slow day today.

It's only been some 10 hours since last night.

For Minho, it seems like years have passed.

You're in every nook and cranny of the house.

That painting you didn't finish, that laundry in the washing machine, that leftover food in the fridge...

Anger, depression, irritation, all kinds of emotions piled up, only to make him more and more confused.

Finally he decided to go for a walk.

5:30 PM:

How did he end up here?

He was standing in front of the bank, there was a crowd outside.

"Oppa!"

Just as he was about to turn around and walk away, a voice came from below.

"......"

He looked down at the source of the voice. It was a little girl, no more than five or six years old.

"Oppa, you are the boyfriend of the unnie/oppa who saved my life yesterday, right? Eomma told me!"

"Sooji! I told you to stop running! '

The girl's mother immediately catches up with her, looking apologetically at Minho.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I just turned my head for one second and she- Sooji come with Eomma, don't disturb-"

"You said...saved you?"

Minho ignored the mother's words and stared at the little girl.

"Yes! Sooji was taken by bad guys yesterday! If it weren't for unnie/oppa yesterday, Sooji would be dead by now! The TV said you were unnie/oppa's boyfriend! Do you know where they are?"

The child's innocent words pierced Minho's heart like needles.

Turns out you weren't chosen by the bandits after all.

You were trying to save someone......

"Mr. Lee, I'm really sorry... Sooji! Just give oppa the phone!"

Sooji, frowned, handing Minho the phone in her pocket and bows.

"Although I can't see unnie/oppa, if oppa does, please say thank you for me!"

Minho took the phone and nodded. The little girl didn't need to know.

"Mr. Lee, Mr/Ms. Y/L/N gave me this phone before they were taken hostage in place of my daughter, and I think it contains... there should be something for you......I am truly sorry for your loss."

The little girl was immediately led away by her mother, who made several more bows before she left.

He was holding your phone in his hand, it felt like it weighed several tons. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

He knew he couldn't stay here too long, so he quickly put your phone in his pocket and left the scene.

9:00 PM:

He thought he would be able to turn on the phone when he got home.

But it was as if some invisible power was holding him back.

No, it wasn't some invisible at all. It was him.

Because he knew that turning on your phone and reading the message...meant that......

He'd have to accept that you were dead.

11:00 PM:

Minho was back in your room, quivering.

He couldn't find the courage to turn on the phone.

But he knew he couldn't be so selfish.

This message was your last word, which meant that it wasn't just for him.

Even if it's for your parents, he had to open it.

Finally, curled up in your shared bed, Minho cradles your clothes in her arms, types in his birthday as the pin number, and opens your phone.

What pops up automatically was the notes app.

To Mom and Dad:

I'm sorry I can't be your child any longer. I love you two.

To Stray Kids:

I'm sorry for damaging your reputation. Please take care of Minho for me.

To Minho:

I will always love you.

With a few simple words, Minho's tears, which had been repressed for 23 hours, broke down. Like a burst of a waterfall, tears streamed down his cheeks and flew into his mouth, dripping onto his body, blurring his sight.

His hands clenched his chest, feeling the physical pain in his heart. He could only cry helplessly.

He clung to himself, looking for something to hold on to, but it was of no use.

All he could do was cry.

You have thought of the possibility that you might face death.

Even knowing that you might face death, you still chose to save that little girl.

He wanted to hate you, wanted to hate you for leaving him.

But he knew you, he knew you would make such a decision.

You really were the strongest, bravest person.

He loves you so much.

He doesn't want to stop loving you.

12:00 AM:

His pillow was soaked with tears, your tiny phone is in his arms, your jacket is over him.

It was as if you were there for him, holding him, protecting him.

"I too...will always love you."

He murmured to himself in a faint voice.

[bubblybubbubs]

Stuck With Me (3)

Summary - Draco’s POV on losing his soulmate

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count - 3.5k

AN- I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 1  2 

taglist - @lonely-kermit @lifeasdreamgirl @mera-shifts @abbyloubaton @clumsilyclueless @confusedscreaminggremlin @seanh-boredom @weasleysmalfoyxstyles @thefandomplace @mayempress @shadyrose66622 @jay-jay-love @ktvia @lovebynorth @sweet-creature98 @remmyswritings​ @chaoticgirl04

Sometimes Draco thought about how different his life would be had he not left you, had you not gotten hurt and lost your fucking memory.

It was truly ridiculous, the universe was actively conspiring against him, he was sure of it.

His current living situation just proved that further to him. “Wake the fuck up.” Blaise said slowly pouring water on his face even though Blaise himself was evidently groggy. “I will kill you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Draco was unsure as to why Blaise had chosen to live in a crappy apartment when his family Manor was free. He missed his silk sheets and expensive pillows. Yet sadly the ministry had decided they wanted to take that leaving Draco on Blaise’s smelly consignment store couch. Had he gotten completely cut off by his family? Perhaps, it would make the disgustingly plain beans and toasts they ate daily make a lot more sense. He’d hate to think that Blaise fed them this by choice.

“Guess who wrote.” Blaise said, wiggling a letter in Draco’s face.

“Loud ginger?”

“Loud ginger.” He confirmed dropping it in on Draco’s face. “You should answer her before we get a howler, then we’ll really see how loud the ginger can get.” Draco looked at the letter, Ginny’s name was scrawled on the envelope and the aggressiveness of the signature made him heavily considering not opening it but the possibility of getting a howler from her convinced him otherwise.

Draco,

You are the worst and I hate you. I’m not sure if you care anymore given that you have refused to make contact with her but y/n is doing fine. I mean sure she’s been asking about her soulmate and lying to her is slowly killing me, but I’m glad you and Blaise are having fun in your bachelor pad and that you have successfully cleared your amnesiac soulmate out of your head.  

Looking forward to hearing your pathetic excuses,

Ginny Weasley.

It was way too fucking early for this.

-

Things were strange.

You had gotten most of your memories back but everything was very different than what you remembered, everyone was different after the war.

The Weasleys, oh the poor Weasleys, they were like your family but the life has been sucked out of them without Fred. They had all tried to hide it from you, they believed you were already going through enough and you didn’t need their problems too. Ginny especially, she hadn’t left your side since you woke up. You kind of felt bad for Harry because whenever he wanted to spend some one on one time with Ginny she always insisted you tagged along.

For example whatever the fuck this current situation was.

“I’m really sorry Harry.” You whispered to him. “I told her I’d be fine alone.”

At first it had sort of made sense how careful everyone had been around you, but at this point it was exhausting. You would walk into a room and it would just go silent. You lost your memory, not your basic communication skills.

“It’s fine, I understand Ginny can be quite persistent.”

“What about me.” Ginny said hooking her arms with the both of you.

“Just that I don’t think I should be going on your dates anymore, it’s kind-“

“Ginny.” Harry said interrupting you pointing towards a boy down the street. He was blonde and lanky, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You had seen Ginny mad, in fact it was one of the first things to come back to you. Her calm fury was something that hadn’t remained constant since she was young and right now you saw it on her face as she stared daggers into the boy.

She scoffed. “I’ll be back.”

“This might take a while.” Harry said quietly, shaking his head. “Come on we can meet Ginny there.” You stole a glance across the street as Harry dragged you away. Ginny was yelling at the boy but he didn’t seem to care because he wasn’t looking at her he was looking at you. You felt your face heat up and you looked away from him following Harry. “Who was that, should I know him?”

Harry paused for a minute.

He had that face that people had whenever they were walking on eggshells around you.“He went to school with us but I don’t think you two were ever friends.” The way he didn’t look you in the eyes screamed to you that he was lying.Harry was always a horrible bloody liar.

-

It was really hard for Draco to process what Ginny was saying. Her anger had gone right to her face and Draco had been silently betting with himself as to how long it would take for her face to turn the same color as her hair. “Your face is really red.” Draco said, struggling to hold back his laughter. “Are you drunk.” Ginny said stoically.

Was he? It was likely, he honestly couldn't remember the morning or yesterday. The days were sort of blending together.

“Malfoy.” Ginny said. Usually when people used his name they were yelling at him or were angry at him. But Ginny said it with pity which somehow felt worse.

“I don’t get why you're doing this to yourself.” She said. “You’re miserable.” He deserved to be miserable.

“It’s for the best.”

“How’s that.”

Draco had no interest in divulging his feelings to weaslette of all people, but it seemed his judgement was slightly impaired by the alcohol he may or may not had been drinking. “I’m going to fucking Azakban Ginevra,I just dont see the point in telling her I’m her soulmate and possibly facing rejection just for me to be thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my life.” Draco huffed. “Even if she somehow forgave me, I doubt the dementors will be allowing conjugal visits.”

“There are no more dementors at Azkaban, Kingsley got rid of them.”

Now normally Draco was against hitting girls but he was considering it heavily. “Thank you Weasley. I feel way better, I’m sure Azkaban is a paradise now. Remind me to send Kingsley a thank you letter.”

“Draco.” Ginny said.

Gross, hearing Ginny say his first name with pity felt even worse.

“You’re not going to Azkaban, Harry agreed to speak at your trial.”

“Oh great he’ll testify to the one time I helped him, I’m sure it’ll cancel everything else out.” He said. “I’m not a good person Weasley, that’s why I know I’m going to Azkaban, because I deserve it.”

“Is that why you’re staying away from y/n?” Ginny said even angrier than before. “Is this some sort of self punishment.”

Draco stayed quiet.

“Merlin, Draco go to fucking therapy.” Ginny huffed. “You’re not the only one that’ll suffer because of your self pity. She needs her fucking soulmate back, as much as I hate you for everything you’ve put her through I can’t argue with the fucking universe and neither can you.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have fucking gotten involved with her in the first place, it’s only put her in danger.” He took a deep shaky breath. “And her losing her memory was the universe’s way of telling me to stay away.”

He had known for a long time that she was too good for him  

It was dark and he was tired, turns out making potter stinks badges and teaching all of Slytherin clever chants was demanding. Draco wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his dorm until of course he heard quiet sobs. He was a firm believer that crying in public was pathetic, especially in a hallway where anyone could stumble across you. And he might’ve told them that had it not been you. He had been thinking about you, not that he would ever tell anyone that ever. But how could he not, you were his soulmate and that had to mean something.

He barely had time to think as his feet moved on their own bringing him in front of you.

“Why are you crying.”

Merlin, could he have been any less compassionate.

“Why do you care Malfoy.” You said.

He hated the way you looked pretty even if your eyes were all puffy and your face was all red.

“I don’t.”

He did. He even started to walk away for dramatic effect of course.

“I’m scared.” It felt weird to hear sincere words from you that weren't you yelling at him, and he hated the fact that he didn't hate it. “Harry has his first task tomorrow he could get hurt or worse.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Don’t tell him I told you this but he has to be some sort of invincible to defeat Voldemort at the age of 1. Don't you think?”He could hardly believe the words he was saying.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finished off.

Draco sat tensely, he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He couldn't hug you could he? No that would be seriously overstepping. You would probably punch him in the face, again. After all you had been the one who wanted to forget about the whole soulmate thing and of course you were a halfblood and a gryffindor on top of that. It would never work.

For once he hated being right.

-

You were actively weighing how likely it was for Ginny to kill you if you woke her up.

Very, is what you eventually came up with. Maybe you could play the amnesia card.

“What do you want y/n.” Ginny grogged from under her. “I’ve been listening to you shifting around for the last hour.”

You had been staying at the Weasley’s and you had absolutely refused to take Fred’s bed so that had resulted in a cramped hammock floating in Ginny’s room.

You turned around to face her with a sorry look on your face.

“Did I know that boy, the one you were yelling at.” You said. “I just feel like I knew him.”

Ginny was quiet the same way Harry was. “No.” She said turning away from you. “No you didn’t.”

“Ginny-”

“Y/n please don’t.” Ginny said, cutting you off. “It’s not for me to tell, if it was believe me you’d already know.”

“I want to go.”

“Go where.”

“To Hogwarts.”

It was embarrassing. Everyone had gone already; they had been able to at least attempt to cope with the trauma they had endured. And you who couldn't even remember the bloody war couldn't work up the nerves to go.

Ginny stared at you for a bit before muttering. “Hermione and Ron are going soon, they’ll likely let you join them.” You were about to make an argument about going on your own before Ginny turned back around nonverbally telling you that the conversation was over.

You still couldn’t sleep and not from lack of trying. Your mind was whirring, ever since you had seen Ginny yell at the boy your lack of memory seemed to be feeling different. And your fear was beginning to settle in, your doctor said that some memories may never come back and that thought made you sick to your stomach. You didn’t feel all that different, Ginny said you were the same whenever you asked. But she could be lying (since she seemed to be in the habit of doing so these days) and you would never know because you had amnesia.

-

Draco was regretting not taking his plea deal. He would much rather be sleeping in Azkaban than waking up on Blaise’s concerningly uncomfortable couch to an angry looking ginger towering over him. No one seemed to value his rest and it was getting ridiculous. He pressed his eyes closed and pull his blanket further over his face in hopes that maybe Ginevra would disappear. Sadly that was not the case and Ginny ripped the blanket off of him leaving Draco quite cold.

Ginny stared down at him as she stood impatiently at the foot of the couch.

“Blaise someone broke into your flat.”

“I noticed mate.” Blaise said who looked just as exhausted hunched over his coffee.

“We need to talk.”

“We talked remember, or were you drunk too?”

Ginny did not look amused and Draco almost felt bad for being so difficult but then he remembered he didn't care.

“Y/n’s going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione. She’s likely going to get her memories back.” Ginny said. “Thought you should know.”

Draco sat up. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ginny said taking a deep breath. “You need to be there.”

“How so?”

“She’s going to remember all the shitty things you’ve done to her and are yet to apologize for and you’re going to lose your soulmate for good.”

“I don't see how me being there will change that.”

Ginny didn't answer him rather she walked towards his chimney. “You know what, screw you. I truly do not care if you go, I just thought you should have the choice that's all.”

Ginny didn't look at Draco, rather giving Blaise a short nod before using the floo to go back to the Burrow.

Draco let himself fall back down to the couch as he listened to Blaises loudly chow down his cereal.

“So are you going to go?” Blaise said his mouth still full.

He felt bad for Blaise’s mum all that money on etiquette lessons for what?

“No.” Draco said, burying his head in his pillow.

“You’re a tosser.”

“I can live with that.”

He could and he has. If he had a sickle for everytime he was called some variation of ‘tosser’ he certainly would not be sleeping on Blaise’s couch.

“I’m calling Pansy.” Blaise didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. But Pansy was another story, Pansy scared everyone, especially the people that loved her which sadly included Draco. “I will kill you.”

“You’re just saying that cause you know she’ll knock some sense into you.”

“I have a lot of sense.” Draco groaned. “In fact I have too much sense.”

Blaise ignored Draco’s exaggerated groans as he called Pansy.The call was short or maybe it was long, all Draco knew was that Pansy was standing over him with that look on her face.

“I’m not going, and you’re not changing my mind Pansy.”

“Blaise leave.” Pansy ordered.

Blaise looked insulted. “This is my house.”

“You call this a house?”

Blaise huffed mumbling under his breath curses at Pansy.

“That was rude.”

“So you're going to lecture me on rudeness now, that's rich coming from you.”

“I dont care.”

“You look and smell like shit, I can tell you ‘don’t care’.” Pansy said.

Never in her life had Pansy been one to sugar coat things and apparently she had no intention of starting to do so. Draco was going to argue it was the couch but he realized he couldn't remember the last time he showered so he kept his mouth shut. Draco a year ago would’ve drowned himself in the black lake had he known he’d come to be like this.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m pulling the card.”

“Pansy no that’s not fair.” Draco said sitting up.

“Fair?”

Poor choice of words.

“Draco, do I have to remind you my soulmate is dead, I stopped feeling tugs and being able to talk to my soulmate when i was 13. Your soulmate is alive by some fucking miracle, and frankly you’re being a selfish prick.”

“Oh.” He always hated when Pansy talked about it. Not because he didn't care but according to Pansy because he cared too much and the last time he had shown any sign of pity towards Pansy it had not gone well for him.

“What lies do you have Ginevra feeding her, does she think she has no soulmate, does she think her soulmate is dead?”

“She doesn’t think she has a soulmate.” Draco said in a low voice, he wasn't proud of what he was doing but he also knew he had no choice. “She was in her coma during the tug. I figured by the time the next one rolls around I have something figured out.”

“And what about you.” She asked. “She may not remember you but you’ll remember her, you'll never forget that you have a soulmate out there that you refuse to see.”

“I won't let myself ruin her.”

“She’s a grown woman, I find it demeaning that you don't see her capable of making her own damn choices.”

“What?”

“You think she'll hate you, you think she’ll be ruined, you think she’s better off. What about what she thinks? You think she'd be okay with you slowly killing yourself?”

“You're a bitch Pansy.”

“So I’ve been told.” She looked towards the clock.

“Come on lets get you something to eat.”

She reached her hand out for Draco to grab.

“I can walk to the kitchen without holding your hand thank you very much.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and grabbed onto Draco’s arm.

“What are you-”

Draco’s sentence was cut off by Pansy apparating them both out of the loft.

-

Draco had gone to his fair share of therapy, did it ever work? no, Draco would rather die before talking about his feelings with a stranger but he had been taught his fair share of anger exercises . And Merlin did they come in handy, truly it was the only thing keeping him from throttling Pansy as she stood there with a smug face looking at the rubble that once was Hogwarts.

“Pansy.” Draco said slowly.

“Shut up, look she’s right there.”

“I’m not ready Pansy.” Draco said wiping his palms on his pants out of stress. “I wanted to bring her flowers.”

“flowers?”

“Forget me nots.” He said with a sardonic dry chuckle. “It was our unofficial flower, ironic isn’t it.”

“The fact that you have an unofficial flower makes me want to throw up.”

“I need flowers.” He said. Pansy groaned before searching the grass. She picked up a dandelion swirling her wand transfiguring it into a bouquet of forget me nots.

“Here, go.” He was about to give another excuse but Pansy apperated away. The one time he needed her she leaves.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to approach her without seeming like a stalker.

His thoughts were disrupted by Hermione and Ron walking up to him. He wanted to turn around so bad but he had no doubt that if he did so Hermione and Ron wouldn’t hesitate to curse him.

“Granger, Weasley.” He said sticking his hands as deep as his pockets would allow him.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Hermione said.

Draco shrugged.

“Just go talk to her.” Ron said.

“Thats why Im here.”

Ron mumbled something under his breath but Draco didn’t feel like fighting Weasley.

Draco had never felt such anxiety because of another person. He had always been confident and walked around like he owned the world, but now he felt scared.He watched you as you traced your hands across the bricks of Hogwarts, his steps faltering as he came closer to you.

“Hi Y/n.” He called out.

You turned to look at him. Draco’s heart felt heavy at the way you looked at him, not any recognition in your eyes. You had once looked at him with such love, then such hate but now you looked at him with nothing. because right now that’s what he was to you, and it broke his heart.

“You.” You said stepping closer. “You were the one talking to Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking, she yelled I stood there.”

“Ginny does that a lot.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” He said.

You spotted the flowers in his hands.

“I’m sorry, who did you lose?”

His hands tightened on the flowers.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You said. “I lost my friend Fred, and my memory. But I don't feel like I lost it since I can't remember ever having it. But I miss Fred.”

He studied every centimeter of your face noting the subtle changes he didn’t notice the last time he saw you as you rambled on about Fred anxiously.

“You.” He said voice wavering. “I lost you.”

You stayed quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry I-“

“don’t know who I am?” He said with a dry laugh. “I was sort of expecting that.”

You didn’t say anything studying his face for anything that sparked a memory in you.

He dug through his jacket pocket pulling out a photo.

His hands were sweating and he tried his best not to touch your hand. Partially because he didn’t want you to feel his sweaty hands and because he feared he would break down at the realization that you were finally here in front of him.

“I’m Draco and you’re my soulmate.” He said

-

AN THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART THE LAST PART WILL BE THE NEXT PART

[jianswordbi-sokka]

Alright y’all! since several people expressed interest in reading my fics, here’s a comprehensive list of all the zukka fic I’ve written over the years:

What the Good Days Left Behind: Rating - M.  It's been 13 years since the end of the world began. It's been 2 since its total collapse. How much longer can its survivors hold out? And how can they hope to save themselves? (Please note: this is an apocalyptic plague-based au so proceed with caution!)

We Swear on Egg rolls and Lamplight: Rating - T.  Sokka and Zuko's roommate adventures in getting drunk, empty theaters, and a getting lot more than they bargained for.

Diplomacy - It’s Not For Everyone: Rating - G.  Sokka doesn’t know how to flirt with boys.

The Polar Bear and the Loon: Rating -  G.  Sokka shares an old water tribe legend that bares an aching similarity to his friend's life.

How to Treat Crush Syndrome (and Fail Miserably at Doing so): Rating - G. Zuko got a little roughed up breaking them out of the boiling rock. And maybe, just maybe, a little of that is Sokka's fault. So, could anyone blame him for trying his best to help?

Zuko of the Masked Ones: Rating - G.  When Zuko is framed for the murder of his cousin, the crown prince, he must flee his home or lose his life. He finds help and salvation through the care of an unlikely stranger.

Nautical Twilight: Rating - G.  Sokka really and truly does believe Zuko is as beautiful as even the best sunrises.

Heaven is There, it’s Under Your Hair: Rating - G.  Sokka notices how long Zuko’s hair has gotten since they met.

Four Seasons: Rating - T.  The progression of Zuko and Sokka's relationship through their lives in 4 brief moments.

Firelight: Rating - T. Part 1 of the Water and Light Series. As the war comes to an end, Sokka finds new purpose in his growing relationship with Zuko

Cascade: Rating - T.  Part 2 of the Water and Light Series. Zuko’s perspective on his newfound friendship with Sokka.

Letters to No One: Rating - G. Part 3 of the Water and Light Series.  Alone in the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka writes letters he never intends to send in an attempt to heal a broken heart.

Aiya Surli Tikiatasanga: Rating - G.  Zuko never quite stops having nightmares.

Jade: Rating - G.  Sokka proposes to Zuko with an old Fire Nation tradition.

Best For The Best: Rating - T.  Sokka and Zuko find comfort in one another, in a world where meeting your soulmate isn’t always fair.

Wolf Lake, 15 Below: Rating - G.  Zuko never imagined he would be spending any of his precious free time ice fishing. But Sokka's puppy-dog eyes sure can be persuasive.

[studioxlii]

18 and Junhee pls!! Xx

"to be fully seen by somebody, then, be loved anyhow is a human offering that can border on miraculous."

proof read: kinda

warnings: none

note(s): the format might be garbage, im mobile.

Love is a weird thing but so are the conditions that come with it; the limits that people decide need to be in place. You understood boundaries or not wanting to take too many steps before you knew the relationship would hold but some things never sat right with you. It took a few years but it wasn't until you overheard some of your project group talking that it finally hit you; most people you knew didn't want to date their best friends for two reasons.

1. It could ruin their friendship. This reason was obvious and of course you understood.

2. They'd seen way too much.

You remember hearing those words and your head lifting, confused and wondering what that could even mean. When you were in a relationship that would eventually progress, weren't they just going to see those things anyway? You never could let that thought go, not once you decided that would only make it better; it would make a relationship stronger. Well, in your eyes.

Dating was something that seemed to come easier to you before those thoughts started polluting your mind; no one seemed to understand or see you in a way you really wanted. The ideal person for you was someone who saw everything; the bad days, the good days and the maybe okay but not so great days. It was really starting to mess with you. By not wanting to date certain friends, were you restricting yourself from the relationship you really wanted?

Only one person, one friend, knew you better than you knew yourself, you were positive of that. Your best friend of nine years, Junhee, had probably been through almost every bad thing possible in life with you. You began recalling all the situations you'd been in with each other that were memorable; the things you wouldn't have faced with anyone else because you didn't want anyone else to see.

'Do you remember when you got your belly button pierced?'

And that's when it began.

The question came out of nowhere, breaking the silence of your apartment and leaving Junhee to look up from his book confused and blinking. 'Uh.. yes?' His response came out slow, hesitant like he was missing some weird in-between the lines meaning of the question.

Your head tilted, finally looking over at him. 'Do you remember the way you squeezed my hand to the point it was purple because it hurt so bad you nearly passed out?'

His features flushed at the ridiculous memory being forced back into his head. 'You mean the same day you had to cling to me, crying because your first tattoo felt like your leg was being seared off?'

You hated crying in front of people for any reason but you couldn't go alone; you'd never go alone for something like that. You just nodded in response before returning to your own book, continuing to read like you hadn't brought the subject up at all.

Your first date after you began recalling things and getting far too deep in what could only be sentimental thoughts went okay. A friend of your friend's, Sehyoon, who was an art major and knew of you but didn't know you; he'd never really integrated himself into the small friend circle on campus but Byeongkwan spoke highly of him.

He was sweet; a gentleman. Pretty much anything you could really ask for but you noticed little things; minute things that didn't even matter. You felt like you were being unreasonable or judgmental despite only picking out things that didn't match. Didn't match what, exactly?

He wasn't Junhee.

The realization had you suddenly shooting up from your seat, interrupting the poor male's answer to your question about his major and spilling out several apologies as you even fought to put money down for your own food. It took quite a few more 'I'm really sorry's before you were speeding out of the small restaurant; you'd make sure to call him later.

You found yourself in the only place that made sense: banging hard on the door of the RA for your building, hardly caring if you disturbed anyone else.

'What?' was the greeting you received from a very frustrated Donghun, wanting nothing more than to be left alone again. And yes, you called each other your friend.

'We have a really, really big problem.'

Being a mutual friend and despite not wanting to get involved in anyone's "drama", he spent two hours talking you out of it, down from it and against it, reminding you just why your newfound feelings for your best friend were a problem. He even reminded you of your comment, three years ago, about how you could never possibly like Junhee; how he remembered that and you didn't, you didn't care to ask.

You returned home a wreck, tired and wanting to burn your own emotions. Were you really uncovering some unconsciously buried feelings or did you just like the fact that he /saw/ you? He'd seen you nearly on your deathbed sick.

He'd seen you living in a depression nest for two weeks, barely able to get out a bed and eating nothing but honey buns and cereal.

He'd seen you grieve family members and pets; seen you walk into the rain and scream at the top of your lungs because of how lost in despair you'd been.

He'd seen you drunk and stupid; he'd seen you the night after a one night stand and hungover to the point you wanted to fight the sun.

He'd sat by you absolutely throwing your guts up.

He had seen every single side of you and you'd seen the same from him but it only started to stack further and further.

You knew his favorite songs because God forbid he only have one. You knew his favorite color, favorite food and his weird retirement plan that involved a tiny petting zoo of his own that he refused to just call a farm. Your pins for everything were each other's birthdates and he was the only other name on your bank account. Why?

Staring down at the menu you'd seen over a hundred times, you were sure, you couldn't decide on just what sounded good and part of you just wanted everything. Those moments staring at words that started to blur, you noticed Junhee hadn't touched his menu and kept shifting around, visibly uncomfortable for reasons you couldn't possible figure out.

'It's unlike you to not be going off about the food here.. or already having ordered your favorite drink that, I recall, you said you'd die without if you didn't have it every time you came here,' you began, closing the menu and setting it down with narrowed eyes, 'what's going on?'

'It's stupid. Just.. order and get some food, I'll probably just eat later. I'm not really hungry.'

That was a bold faced lie and you knew it, the concern growing. 'And, what's the oh-so-stupid reason, exactly?'

It took him a minute, shifting more and acting like a child who had gotten in trouble. 'I, uh.. I can't really..' he gestured around, lips pursed and growing even more upset by the second, you could tell by the way he was trying to stop himself from frowning. 'Can't really afford it.' You were college students, it wasn't the world's biggest secret if you couldn't afford something.

'Do you really think I'm just going to eat in front of you?' You snorted, avoiding any comment that would further his being upset over the situation, 'Don't worry about it and order, okay?'

Financial struggles were no quiet matter between the two of you and never had been since you started school. Junhee lived off campus in an apartment with two shitty roommates, a terrible part time job and parents that pretty much didn't care if he perished on the side of the street somewhere. You, on the other hand, which you didn't like bringing up, were doing fine but only because your parents dropped something of an 'allowance' into your account for foods and necessities.

You ignored his attempt to argue and told him if he didn't order something, you were going to do it for him; he shut up.

The next day, you took a trip to the bank.

You could feel eyes on you as you splayed across the couch, staring at the ceiling and contemplating life and all of it's annoyances. No question left you but even if you wanted to say something, you were cut off.

'So, are you going to tell me what's going on? For the past.. three weeks? You've been asking me all sorts of weird stuff,' Junhee inquired, frowning thoughtfully, 'Are you testing me or something? Trust me, yes, I remember every single second I've spent with you. I remember every word you've said, the names of every guy you've been with and the ones I'd like to fight. I remember every birthday and gift I've given you and the ones you've given me. Yes, I remember your favorite things and everything so, what's the deal?'

It sounded sentimental at first but then you noticed that all too familiar waiver in his voice and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his hands fiddling with the chain bracelet that had adorned his wrist for five years; he wanted to cry. A crying Junhee was something no one ever wanted on your hands and you briefly recalled a phone call from a very panicked Byeongkwan because of just that but you were letting your thoughts get off topic.

'I think I'm in love with you.'

'If you don't want to be fri-'

You were both cut off as your head turned to finally look at him, soaking in the unreadable expression on his features when someone busted through the door; 'Look!'

Both of you looked towards your two friends that invited themselves into your door, one holding a new cat and the other looking just as pleased with the announcement but it gradually dropped. 'Shit, did we interrupt something?' Of course, you always knew when you finally and truly confessed to someone that it would be Byeongkwan who ruined the whole thing; you used it as an escape, though, reminding yourself of what the confession could do to your friendship.

'New minion, I see,' you chimed, sitting up and ignoring the question, both of them, as you rose to greet Donghun's new pet. You were ignorant to the looks shared between the three boys and you were happy about that.

Now, you just had to avoid it ever coming up again until it was forgotten.

Junhee, however, didn't want that to happen.

After about an hour of chitchatting and ignoring the gaze of your best friend, you excused yourself under the excuse of having a meetup for a class, despite it being your dorm, and managed to weasel your way out. There was really nowhere to go, no one to talk to and you surely didn't have any plans for the next week; you ended up at the café on campus. It was quiet and filled mostly with a few students doing work and the two members of staff behind the counter, one eventually joining you at the table. He didn't say anything, waited for you to stop your dramatic Disney scene and acknowledge him.

'Would you date me, Yu?'

Taken a bit off guard, he ended up snorting. 'I can't tell if this is a trap or you want the genuine answer,' he replied, crossing his arms atop the table, 'but, on the hand that it's serious.. probably. I mean, I definitely wouldn't turn you down. We've known each other for a few years, hang out on a regular basis.. get along and have a lot of similar interests. So, yeah.'

The answer made your lips draw into a deep frown and you tapped your fingers against the cup, soaking up every word. 'Even though we're friends? What if we broke up?'

A soft 'ah' came from him as he realized what was really going on and he shrugged, thinking it over for a minute or two. 'We're both adults and I don't believe either of us would do something so that the breakup would be something that could ruin our friendship. I understand it would be like.. friends then it being intimate then back to friends, but I think both of us are mature enough to deal with that and not let it bother us too much.' He spoke like he'd been through it several times and in reality, it had only been once, a small fling with a mutual friend but they still seemed pretty okay. 'Is this about Jun?'

'Does everyone know?' You groaned out, releasing the cup to lean back and rub your hands over your face in defeat, 'I.. I told him I think I love him then Kwan and Donghun showed up and I bailed because now I don't actually want to face him or admit to ever actually saying it. I do! I do love him! I don't.. I don't want to lose him, you know?'

You could see the way the latter looked at you, sympathetic and calculating what words wouldn't just stress you out further. 'Look.. I know you don't want to hear it from me or anyone else for that matter because you want to keep saying it'll ruin your friendship when in reality, you don't like the idea that you could hurt each other, I was the same way with Donghun, so I understand.. but, you should really see all this from an outsider's point of view. Junhee looks at you like you hung the moon and you look at him like he painted the stars; yes, it's been like that since I've met you and a reminder, it's been years. I don't know what took you so long to realize it or if you've just avoided it this whole time but anyone would have to be blind not to see it. Now,' he sighed deeply as he finished and straightened, 'I think you should probably go and talk to him about it considering you just confessed then ditched but it's your choice. I don't think you have anything to worry about.. for either of you. You're the most loyal person I know, so I have no doubt you'd ever hurt him in a way that would ruin you guys and he can barely swat at a fly or sit still through hearing thunder, you think he's going to do something? Regardless.. one of these days, soon, you'll have to face it and I really hope you don't go into it with the cliché reason of your friendship being ruined.'

The words sank in slow and you wanted nothing but to cry your eyes out because he was right; he always was and you hated it. It took a while for you to speak and he seemed okay with that, briefly leaving you to fill a couple orders before returning. 'I know you're leaving for break tomorrow.. tell him before then.' Those were his last words before he bid you good luck and a good night, heading back to his own dorm, most likely to call Donghun now that he'd projected just a little bit.

Irrationality was a word that would be in your character description box and the word stupid could very well be right next to it because when you got home, you packed your bag and decided to leave early, not bothering to let any of your friends know. You needed time and you were being selfish, so selfish to the point you thought maybe he'd just hate you when you got back.

Oh boy were you wrong.

Two days into being back home and confiding in your mother who promptly smacked you upside the back of the head, you found yourself sitting on the porch and moping, split between what to do. You suspected the boys were a bit angry with you when you noticed the ample amount of texts, voicemails, social messages and phone calls that had gone ignored; you caught a glimpse of the absolute book Yuchan took the time to send you, leaving you kind of scared to even open it. It didn't take long for the guilt to set in but you chose to wait until you were back on campus to deal with it.

Or at least, that was your plan.

'So, I know you've never been a fan of confrontation but.. you've never been the type to run away.'

The sudden voice startled you as you hadn't even noticed anyone pull up and of course, upon looking up, you were met with the face you were trying to avoid the most. Junhee stood at the end of the sidewalk looking pitiful and shifting his weight in a nervous manner. You didn't bother trying to speak, not knowing what to say but you did wait for the rant, the berating that you deserved; that wasn't who he was though.

He even stayed quiet for a minute or two, making his way closer to sit on the steps, looking up towards your figure. 'Did you mean it?'

You could have answered right away, poured your heart out and let out the tears you'd been holding in since the moment you left. Instead, you stayed quiet and pulled your knees closer to your chest, not trusting your own voice. He didn't relent though, reaching out to lightly nudge your knee.

'That's all I need to know.. did you mean it? If.. if you didn't I can just leave and we don't have to bother with it again.'

'And, if I did..?' Finally finding your voice, you looked over to him, chewing hard on your lower tier, nervous and kind of wanting to throw up.

You could see him thinking it over before a faint smile showed up. 'I'd most likely cry.. but I'm going to cry either way,' he began, shrugging his shoulders while moving up to sit next to you, 'I'd also tell you that I love you, too and I've been trying to tell you that for years now.'

The confession made your heart flutter, your skin burn and the butterflies being kept back burst in delight in your gut. 'Even.. after everything we've been through? Everything you've seen..?'

Junhee nodded. 'Mhm. I'd go through it all again and what do you mean? I've seen nothing but you.'

[serowotonin]

˗ˏˋ 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 ˎˊ˗

✰ PAIRING ( terushima yuuji x fem!reader ) ✰ WORDCOUNT ( 1.9k ) ✰ GENRE ( ansgt, songfic ) ✰ WARNINGS ( um one swear word, angst, implications of de*th )

all the memories that we make will never change we'll stay drunk, we'll stay tan, let the love remain and I swear that I'll always paint you golden days ♫ panic! at the disco

✰✰ NOTE.. so uH i think this is the first angst thing i wrote that im actually happy with and i know terushima isn’t someone a lot of ppl write for so to the few ppl who see this</3 hope u guys enjoy:”)

“Ughh where is it,” Terushima grumbled to himself as he pulled open drawer after drawer. He had searched all the cabinets, all the tables, and just about every inch of his apartment but has yet to find his phone charger. 

As he closed the second to last drawer on this shelf, which held no phone charger, he pulled out his phone and saw it had 1% battery remaining. Quickly, he unlocked it and went to his contacts. Before he could make a call though, the screen turned black and he was left staring at a faint reflection of himself.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “She’s gonna get upset again.”

He clutched the now dead phone in one hand and ran the other through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. Today had been tiring enough with work and now he had this to deal with.

There was still one more drawer he hadn’t checked though. So, he lifted his hand out of his hair and pulled it wide open. 

In it sat a small box. 

He knew of its contents the moment he laid eyes on it. He also knew opening it now would only make him feel worse, not to mention, it would definitely delay his plans.

But for some reason, a longing for nostalgia or maybe the person that brought such nostalgia, his arms unconsciously moved to take the box into his hands.

Your words echoed in the back of his mind as he traced his fingers along the edges of the box.

“It’ll be like our little time capsule. For us to open when we’re all old and wrinkly…”

A deep sigh escaped his lips. 

Every rational thought that came into his head begged him not to open it, to put it back, to forget he even found it. 

Instead, his fingers moved to lift the cover and lay it down on the floor beside him.

And there you were... a polaroid of you at least. 

Your lips were curved in a sweet smile inviting him in and breaking his heart all over again. Up until now, he could barely recall what your face looked like when you were happy, truly happy. He could only remember the tears and regret you had on your face towards the end… 

But seeing you like this again, the wideness of your smile, the crinkle of your eyes… you radiated a joy and happiness he had begun to forget in you.

He stared at the picture for a good minute before turning it around to see the familiar strokes of your handwriting.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!’ and under it ‘(first pic taken with the polaroid my baby Yuuji got for me<3)’

“My baby Yuuji,” he whispered.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” he sang softly into your ear as he held you from behind, swaying gently in tune. 

“Happy birthday dear Y/n.. Happy birthday to you~”

You turned to kiss the blond and he pulled you even closer to him. 

“I love you babe, happy birthday...” 

The tiredness he had felt just moments ago seemed to have fluttered away when he found you again in the polaroids, and a longing burst from the depths as he put the picture down and picked up another one, his hands once again moving on their own will.

This one had the two of you standing together, backs facing the camera. It was taken at a beach when the sun was still high in the sky and the water glistened blue. But it wasn’t the scenery that appealed to him, nor was it the way the sun wrapped around you two in perfect golden light. 

It was how close you were to him. The physical distance between you two was barely existent. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and his were draped over your shoulders. 

‘Sea breeze, cute outfit, sand between my toes, and 1 Terushima Yuuji… Damn was today great.’

How he would give to be that close to you again.

“Ok 3, 2, 1…”

You clung on to him as tight as you could and he smiled, pulling you closer. 

At the sound of the camera click and the hum of the photo being printed, you let go and quickly turned around to thank the woman for taking the picture.

When you did that he felt off; as if a part of his body was just yanked away. It wasn’t an extreme feeling, nor was it painful in any way. It was more just a lingering emptiness that was put to rest a few seconds later when you were back by his side again.

He put his arm back on your shoulder and peered down at the polaroid in your hand. You were staring at the photo patiently waiting for the colors to fade in. And when it finally did, you smiled satisfactorily at it before tucking it away and flashing another smile to the man right next to you.

Terushima closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind. It’s been years, he shouldn’t be dwelling on the past like this.

And yet, there was comfort in the pain the memories brought.

When he opened his eyes, they landed on yet another photo of you. And as he has been for a good part of his life, he was drawn to you. Reaching out a hand, he picked it up and let the memories wash over him once more.

After a while, he set it down and picked up another. And another. And another. Each capturing a moment with you he would never get back. 

It’s been years since he’s had to learn to live without you. Truthfully though, he never did learn how. The sun became a little dimmer, the rain a little harder, the breeze a little less refreshing. The world lost its vibrancy when he lost you. He adapted, got used to the dullness, but he couldn’t learn to live the same anymore...

He picked up another polaroid.

This one didn’t have either of your faces on it. It just showed the two of you holding hands against a dark background.

The bottom held no words but instead an arrow pointing to the right. Terushima turned the polaroid and saw a small envelope attached to the back. Curious, he opened it up and pulled out the piece of paper snuggled inside.

‘This one’s a bit longer than any other note I’ve written for a polaroid but�� I kinda just realized smth really important. He drove me out at 3AM in the morning to get food because I said I was hungry. Then we sat in his car listening to some old mixtapes he had. They were pretty crappy but it didn’t matter. I love Terushima Yuuji. I’ve said it a million times before but last night it really hit me, hard. I love him in a way I’d never be able to love anyone else. 

I want to go on more dates with him. more stupid dates, more romantic ones, more 3AM dates, more cuddle dates. And even though it might be selfish of me, I want to spend my every breathing minute with him. 

If I can’t have anything else in this then I just want these golden days of ours to last forever..’

And before he realized it, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Fuck it all. He missed you. He missed the days you had together, the nights spent in each others’ arms. He missed you so much it tore a hole in his heart and all he could see when he looked at the sunlight drifting through the window was just darkness. 

It pained him to know that everything you wanted was all he ever needed. It pained him that he hadn’t realized this until it was too late. And it pained him most that you were never coming back.

Why’d you have to leave? 

He tried so hard to stop asking this question, and for a while, he was successful. But the polaroids, your handwriting, the memories, you.. there was just so much pain in the happiness of the past. 

But you were gone. He had accepted that long ago. 

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Terushima, you in here?” a familiar voice called from outside. 

Right, he forgot about Misaki. Wiping any tears left on his face, he put all the polaroids back in the box, covered the lid, and left the room.

“DADDY!!” a little girl yelled, running at him full speed. He bent down and lifted her into his arms effortlessly.

“Oh you’ve gotten heavier. How much has Misaki been feeding you huh?” he teased.

The little girl pouted as she pointed to the floor signaling she wanted to be put down. Terushima chuckled and did so.

Walking over to a slightly annoyed-looking Misaki, he muttered an apology for not going to pick her up and a thanks for taking care of his daughter. 

“Hey wait, you look like you’ve been crying… Are you ok Teru?” she asked, eyes showing her concern.

He let out a deep sigh. 

“I uh- I found a box with some old pictures of Y/n and I just-”

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“Look, I know you miss her and I know you know this, but don’t get too stuck in the past. Focus on what you have now,” she said looking in the direction of the young girl who had made her way over to the small pile of stuffed animals on the couch.

He rubbed his face and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, thank you Misaki.”

“Ok,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be going then.” 

Terushima nodded again and after she said bye to his daughter, he walked her to the door.

Turning back he leaned on the wall and looked affectionately at the girl playing on his couch. She was still so young, but it’s been almost 5 years now that he’s taken care of her. 

Time seemed to fly by with her and yet it felt like so long ago he welcomed her to the world. 

He understood now the past and its memories were something to be treasured. It was not something to cling on tightly though. The golden days of the past are gone, but the glittering rays that coated the floor and walls of his living room tell him it’s a new age. 

It was an age he had to cherish well.

Deciding to do something he’s been putting off, he walked back into his room and brought out the box with all its polaroids and memories.

“Yui, come here. I want to show you something.”

She stared at him before taking one frayed teddy bear into her hands and walking over to her father. Taking his outreached hand, she looked at the box he held in his other.

Sitting at the top of the pile was a photo of a beautiful woman. The sun was shining bright in the background and the light swirled around her as if she was wrapped in a golden halo.

“Is she an angel?” Yui asked innocently, pointing to the picture.

“You got that right,” he replied with a sad smile. “She’s the most beautiful angel out there..”

He watched as the young girl picked up the photo, seemingly mesmerized.

“That angel is your mom.”

“My mom?” she echoed. “Mommy is an angel?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair, “She sure is, and you know what? She’s looking out for us from heaven, so you better be a good girl for her, okay?”

✰✰ NOTE.. pls lemme know if u guys thought this was angsty enough sdkjlsdg,,,, i dunno i can’t seem to tell whether angst is painful enough yet;-; also don’t mind the name yui dkglsd it was the first one i could think of T-T

✰✰✰ TAGLIST.. @lilikags @luna-in-luv​ @kureyama​

[fanfoolishness]

five denials and a truth (The Mandalorian)

Written for @fake-starwars-fan, who suggested this idea.  Five times Din Djarin denies he is a father, and one time he doesn’t.  Canon-compliant, spoilers for seasons 1 and 2, and gets angsty as hell. I’m so sorry, Din.  Featuring Din, Grogu, Omera, the Armorer, Peli Motto, Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, and Cara Dune.  3800 words.

***

i.

The sun fell beneath the crowns of the trees, leaving them awash in blues and golds, and the insects sang their chorus in the growing shadows.  Din Djarin sat at the edge of the fire, watching the child play with the other children.  Wariness hummed in the back of his mind, long years of training deeply entrenched despite the seeming peace of Sorgan.  Still, though, it was hard to remain battle-ready here, as the children laughed and played their silly games.

Omera sat on the log beside him, waving a hand to her daughter.  The girl took off eagerly to join the others.  Pinpoint flashes of light sparkled around the children as they played, the evening lightning-beetles taking wing.

“The children love your son,” she said, turning back to Din, her eyes aglow in the firelight.  “I’ve never seen a youngling like him, but they’ve truly taken to him.  My daughter’s quite envious of his frog-catching skills.”  She chuckled, voice sweet and warm.

“He’s not my son,” said Din in polite, careful tones.  He shifted slightly on the log.

Omera tilted her head.  He found her direct eye contact discomfiting, but he did not look away.  “Because he isn’t human?”

He shook his head slightly.  “No.  That has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what?  I see the way you watch out for him.  You’re watching him now, making sure he isn’t getting into trouble,” she said lightly.  “Every parent does it.”

“There are terrible people after him,” said Din, feeling uneasy in a way he couldn’t pin down.  Imps, bounty hunters, who knew what else?  The less said about it, the better.  “I’m just trying to protect him until I can find a safe place for him, that’s all.”

She arched an eyebrow as the child toddled over to them, holding a squirming lightning-beetle in his small hands, its green-gold light pulsing between his fingertips.  “Looks like he has something to show you.”

Din bent down, reaching out to take the child’s hands.  “You, uh, you caught this?” he asked gruffly.  “Huh.”  He’d seen the other children trying to do the same and failing, the agile beetles getting the better of them.  Despite himself, he was impressed.  

“Good for you.  Just don’t  -- no!  Drop it!”  He pulled the squirming beetle out of the child’s mouth and tossed it aside, watching it flash up into the sky.  The child looked at him with big eyes, ears sinking down to his shoulders.

“Oh, they’re perfectly safe to eat,” said Omera, laughing.  “We eat them now and then if things are lean.”

“Oh,” said Din.  He felt his mouth form into a smile, a reflexive action beneath the helmet.  “Uh, sorry,” he said to the child.  “Maybe next time.”

The child took another step forward, then leaned against Din’s leg, small arms curling around his shin.  Then he was off again, toddling back to the children and the waiting lightning-beetles.

“If you aren’t his father,” asked Omera, “what’s stopping you?”  She gazed at him, her face kind, her eyes questioning.  

“I’m not what he needs,” Din said.  He turned away from her, staring off into the forest, where the bandits waited.  “That’s all.”

***

ii.

The Armorer watched Din Djarin carefully, grateful that another member of the Tribe had survived.  Of course, he and his actions were the reason so many had fallen, but the Creed was unflinchingly clear.  Death in the service of protecting another Mandalorian or a foundling was the noblest end to a warrior’s life.  The price had been paid, and paid again, and she bore him no anger for it.

She asked to see the child, to see the one whose protection had merited the fragmentation and destruction of the Tribe.  The creature stared up at her, clearly tired and frail, but its eyes held a spirit she understood.  This one had seen suffering.  It was always written in the eyes of those who did not hide their faces.

She saw, too, the way Djarin angled himself toward the child.  She had heard of how he had protected it, blaster, body and beskar, against the storm that drove him from the planet.  And she remembered the tale of the enemy that had helped him defeat the mudhorn.  She began to understand.

She explained to Djarin what he must do, what the Creed demanded.  No matter that the child was linked to the Jedi, nor that Djarin knew not where to find them.  He was a resourceful man.  She had faith that he would fulfill the Creed.

The others pressed him to leave, their urgency clear.  The Imperials were coming, as they had come upon them before in the night, and she understood their fear.  They knew not the Way of the Mandalore, the honor of a warrior’s death.

Djarin dissented.  “I’m staying.  I need to help her, and I need to heal.”

His desire to assist was welcome, but she knew that this was not his path.  His path was clear. It lay in the child’s wide eyes, in his small hands, in the way Djarin spoke of the foundling with a measured distance she knew he did not keep.  The truth could not be hidden.  A Mandalorian could fool an outsider, but she was the Armorer, and the depth of his feelings toward the child was laid bare in voice and stance.

“You must go,” she said firmly.  “A foundling is in your care.  By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father.”

You already are, she wished to say, but she did not.  He was not ready.  Not yet.  Denial showed plain in the set of his shoulders.

“This is the Way,” she said instead, voice brisk.  “You have earned your Signet.”  Her hands were swift and precise upon his pauldron, affixing the gleaming mudhorn to its rightful place.  

There it was, the emotion she knew lay deep within him.  “Thank you,” he said, and she saw the warrior’s heart within him gentled, humbled, made vulnerable.  “I will wear it with honor.”  

There were certain truths she had long known.  The best warriors did not harden their hearts.  Too hard, and they found their deaths too quickly, the potential glory of their sacrifice fading into a meaningless waste.  Yet those that succumbed to the pain of the world could be too soft, losing the will to fight and turning to the follies of pacifism.  

The finest warriors, the truest, walked wounded through the world.  It was their battles that burned brightest in the minds of their people, their struggles that most honored the Way of the Mandalore.  

She watched Djarin and the child leave with the others, and she waited, her hammer at the ready.  She would protect the beskar and buy time for those of her Tribe to escape.  She knew she would not fall this day.  

Beneath her helmet, she smiled.  For she believed Clan Mudhorn would earn their place in legend.

***

iii.

Din returned to Peli Motto’s shop, laden with supplies from the market.  Ammunition, food and water for himself and the kid, a few more packs of bacta patches.  Wouldn’t do to head out into the deep desert unprepared, and he wasn’t sure this mining town Peli was talking about really still existed.  He unloaded the supplies onto the ramp into the Crest, and turned to look for the kid.  He’s fine, he reminded himself, but he still hated how hard it was to leave the kid sometimes, how he always felt like something was missing when the kid wasn’t in his sight.

As expected, Peli was in her office, the kid in her lap.  She was having an animated discussion with him, judging by the way his ears quivered.  As Din drew near he picked up some of their conversation.

“So there I was, fighting an infestation of womp rats the size of banthas, and this no-good nerfherder shows up wanting to know why his ship’s not ready.  I tried telling him the droids were overrun and that I’d already busted one blaster trying to shoot the damn things, and he had the nerve to -- Mando!  Back from the market, huh?” Peli asked, looking up at him.  

The kid let out an excited squeal and reached towards him.  Reluctantly, Peli lifted him up, and Din took him into his arms.  The kid settled down in the crook of his elbow like he’d been there all his life, and Din finally relaxed.

“Not the best selection I’ve ever seen, but I got what we needed,” he said.  “Thanks for watching the kid.  He’s gotten me into trouble with more than one vendor.  Sticky fingers.”  And having the ability to move things with his mind, while impressive, wasn’t exactly a good recipe when combined with a youngling who was hungry all the time.  Din tilted his helmet down to look at the kid, his mouth tugging invisibly into a grin beneath the beskar.

“This angel?” Peli scoffed.  “I don’t believe it.”  Din simply looked at her, and she relented, “Okay, okay, he ate half my lunch when I wasn’t looking, and tried to eat a sand roach when I was.  I get your point.”

“I told you to be good for Peli,” scolded Din.  The kid let out a small, sad burble, and he sighed.  “I know, I know.  You didn’t mean it.”  He reached up, fingers cuffing gently against the kid’s cheek.

“You guys should do more business on Tatooine,” said Peli, leaning back in her chair and taking a long drink of caf.  “Always a pleasure.  It warms my sandblasted heart, seeing you two.”

Din nearly choked.  “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean!” she said, waving her hands.  “Mos Eisley’s got some pretty nasty dealings in the back alleys.  Orphaned younglings, drunks, slavers looking for easy marks…   It’s just nice to see a dad actually taking care of his kid for once.”

Din was still.  The kid grabbed his thumb with one small hand, holding it tight, and reflexively he curled his hand closer to the little one.  He didn’t speak.

Peli raised her brows, looking concerned.  “Did I say something wrong?”

“I…”  He swallowed.  “I’m not his father.”

“Well, I don’t know what exactly you look like under that armor, but no shit, Mando,” she said.  “But dads aren’t just a blood thing.  I thought -- I mean, the way you take care of him, and all.  You’d do anything for this kid, or I don’t know a damn thing.”

“I would,” he said slowly.  “Do anything for him.”  The kid brushed his hand against his cuirass, his claws making tiny ting noises against the beskar.  

“But you’re not his dad.”

If you aren’t his father, what’s stopping you?

You are as its father.

“He’s a foundling,” said Din, and he fought to keep his voice steady.  “I would die for him.  This is the Way.”

Peli held out her hands skeptically, face shifting into clear confusion.  “And again, you’re not his dad?  I’m not getting the distinction here.”

He looked down at the kid, whose ears quivered with curiosity, his mouth slightly open as if asking a question.  

Red robes, blaster fire, the smell of smoke, the sound of screams --

Until it is reunited with its own kind --

“It’s complicated,” he said, turning away from her.  “Thanks again for watching him.  We’d better get a move on before it starts getting dark.”  

He headed back out toward the ship and the speeder, her indignant voice following him.  “It’s noon, but whatever you say, Mando!”

***

iv.

Mist lay heavy in the secluded forest, muffling the sounds of the grazing beasts in the distance, the township far away.  Din stared out at the falling darkness, his stomach twisting.  It was nearly time.  Time to fulfill his quest, to deliver the child.

Time to say goodbye to Grogu.

His feet felt heavy, so heavy, though the distance to the little sleeping area from the hold was only a few steps away.  He stood in the doorway, watching the child sleep in the small hammock.  He’d picked up the cloth in a small market on a forgotten world.  He remembered asking the shopkeeper if it was soft enough for a youngling, remembered taking his glove off to make sure the fabric wasn’t itchy.  He remembered the kid -- Grogu -- cooing to himself that first night in the hammock, remembered how well the kid had slept.  

He remembered how he’d laid awake half the night, missing the kid curled up on his chest.

Din raised his hands.  They trembled.  

This is what I came to do.  This is for him.

“Wake up, buddy,” he said, voice breaking.  “It’s time to say goodbye.”  He reached a hand into the hammock, brushing against Grogu’s chest.  The kid made a small, sleepy sigh, a sigh he’d heard dozens, hundreds of times now, a sigh that had become as familiar and homey as the engine’s hum.  He lifted him carefully out of the hammock, but Grogu just yawned, smacking his lips, and closed his eyes again.

Din sat down, leaning against the wall with Grogu on his knee.  He looked at him.  Really looked, though his vision blurred.  I have… I have to remember.    

He drank in the sight of those long, delicate ears, soft with thin white fuzz on the edges, the inner skin shell-pink rimmed with mossy green.  He memorized the curious ridges and bumps on his forehead, between his eyes, remembering how they crinkled when the kid was happy and flattened when the kid was being obstinate.  He looked at the mouth that had eaten a horrifying number of frogs and spiders, and nearly laughed despite himself.

Grogu’s hand twitched, curling over Din’s fingertip.  Din shifted his thumb to cover the back of his small hand, and the kid blinked sleepy eyes at him.  Those eyes, so wide, so curious, so expressive.  He would never forget them.  

“You’re gonna love being a Jedi,” Din whispered.  “You’ll learn how to use your powers.  You’ll get even stronger.  You’ll see.”  You won’t need me.

Grogu’s weight on his knee was so light.  

Funny, then, that Din felt so crushed.  

He bowed over the kid, arms curling around his small body.  Grogu leaned into him, and Din held him, and he told himself that it was time.

He was never sure, looking back, how he piloted the ship safely back to the town and landed it without a hitch.  He only remembered walking down the ramp, seeing the Jedi Ahsoka waiting for them, and going cold, cold, cold.

They regarded each other for a moment.  The Jedi’s eyes were sad and distant.  She gazed down at Grogu, nestled in Din’s arms.  

“You’re like a father to him,” she said finally.  “I cannot train him.”

His legs felt fuzzy and weak.  He straightened up, forcing himself to stand firm.  He had to try again, for the kid’s sake.  “You made me a promise, and I held up my end,” he accused.

The Jedi spoke.  Part of him held onto her words, kept them safe, directions to a planet, another option to find more Jedi.  He could do this.

The other part of him was dizzy, punchdrunk, even as he held the kid safely in his arms.  You’re like a father to him echoed, and somehow the words struck deeper than they ever had before.  He ached with them, ached for them to be real -- weren’t Jedi supposed to be noble?  Weren’t they supposed to tell the truth?

But he knew he couldn’t be that lucky.  

He thanked her politely for the information, and set a course for Tython.

***    

v.      

“We’re coming up on Nevarro,” came Fett’s voice in his ear, and Din jerked awake.

It took him a moment to get his bearings.  This wasn’t the Crest.  This was Slave I.  This was Boba Fett.  Fennec Shand was down below.  And Grogu was… gone.

His head reeled. Gone.  Not safe in the arms of a Jedi, no future secured and sheltered.  He’d been stolen, been lost.  Under his watch.

“You still asleep?” Fett asked, glancing back.  His helmet rested beside him, half-cleaned of its scorch marks and scars.  Fett had been busy while he was sleeping.

“No,” said Din, trying to clear his head.  He lapsed into silence.

“It’s a fair plan,” said Fett.  “I hope it works.  For the sake of the child.”

“You didn’t have to --” Din started.  They’d been through this already, though, and he knew it would be insulting to keep up his protests.  “I’m… grateful for the help.  Thank you.”

Fett shrugged. “We tracked you for a while, you know.  Before Tython.”

Din stared straight ahead.  He didn’t care about that.  But he realized in the waiting quiet that Fett expected an answer.  “I didn’t know.”  

There; the man should take it as a compliment.  Din knew he wasn’t easy to track.

“I saw how you were with the child.”  Fett’s scarred face was thoughtful.  There was something complicated there behind the older man’s eyes, but Din couldn’t read it, unsettled and numb as he was.

“I was to return him to the Jedi,” Din forced out.  “I failed him.”

“You took care of him,” Fett pointed out.  “I saw it.  That’s not nothing.”  

“He was a foundling,” he said mechanically.  “Any Mandalorian would have done the same.  The Creed demands --”

Fett sighed.  “You can keep your Creed.”  The words still sounded so wrong -- to view the Creed as a myth, it was sacrilege.  Still, though, he’d seen the chain code, and he knew Fett’s claim was valid.

Din watched the other man cautiously, but was taken aback by the next words Fett spoke.  “You were a father to him.  That much was clear.”

Din chuckled, a brittle, awful sound.  It hurt his throat.  “People keep telling me that.”

“Are they wrong?”

He thought of Grogu taken, held captive by droids’ arms harsh and cold.  He thought of him in a cell, thought of tests and needles and experiments, thought of the little youngling toddling after him and laughing sweetly about cookies.  He thought of standing there helplessly on the rocky slopes of Tython, watching the world end.

He was grateful, not for the first time, for the helmet shielding his face.  “Does it matter?” he gritted, and Nevarro loomed before them.

***

vi.

Cara Dune caught up to him, about six months later.

He’d been half-expecting her for some time.  Knew that rumors of his doings would reach certain ears.  Knew that she’d put two and two together.  Even if he no longer wore beskar, he knew the patterns would be noticed.

She found him in a scuzzy bar on an ocean moon, where the damp seeped into everything and the cold never faded.  She sat beside him, tossing a few credits onto the bar, and was rewarded with a sea-brewed ale.  She drank about half before she finally turned to face him.

“Hey, Mando.”

He didn’t look at her.  Didn’t want to see the pity in her face.  He could hear it well enough in her voice.

“I knew I’d see you again,” he said quietly.  “Galaxy’s never as big as it seems.”

“No,” she said.  “I guess it isn’t.”

In the silence, water dripped, dripped, dripped behind the bar, a constant rhythm.

“I know it was you,” she said presently.  “The Imperial bases on Corux and Raethe.  Two cruisers downed, the troops dead long before the ships crashed.  Imps dead in the streets of a dozen backwaters.  And a lot of high-ranking officers found in pieces.”

“A lot of people hate the Empire,” he said.  He took a drink of his ale.  He hated the taste, and hated the burn more.

“Not a lot of people hate them like you do.”  Lightning-fast, she twitched aside the cloak hanging over his hip, revealing the Darksaber hanging like an anchor at his side.  He ignored her, covering it again with his cloak.  “Let’s just say you have a signature style these days.”

Din glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  She looked different, hair a little shorter, upgraded armor, a new insignia on her shoulder.  And sympathy etched in every line of her face.  He looked away, shaken.

“So what?” he asked.  “Don’t tell me the New Republic has a problem with fewer Imps running around.”

“They don’t.  They’d probably give you a medal, if they knew who was behind it,” said Cara.  She finished her drink.  “I have a problem with it.”

He nearly snorted into his foul ale.  “Really.  You’re worried about the Imps.”

“I’m worried about you, Din Djarin.”

He froze.  She’d never used his name before.  Slowly, he turned to stare at her, fully aware that his naked face was on display.  “Stop.”

Cara flushed.  “I was on the ground at that Maelstrom-class cruiser.  I saw what you did to them.  It wasn’t…”  Her mouth twisted.  “Killing Imps doesn’t bother me.  You know that.  But that was… brutal.”

“Again,” he said defensively, “you’re worried about them?”

“About what it’s doing to you,” she said, her voice flat.  “Mandalorians… I thought you were known for noble kills --”

“I’m not a Mandalorian,” he spat.

She pounded a fist into the table, a sharp crack that left a mark on the flimsy surface.  “You’re torturing yourself about letting him go.  This isn’t you, Mando.  And I think a part of you knows it.”

The weight of the last several months loomed.  It pressed.  It shattered, a shield failing, a dam breaking.  He saw the Darksaber flaring, scorching, searing, amputating, saw his bare hands on the hilt, saw the bodies piled.  He remembered enjoying it in a way that felt sick, felt dirty, an insult to the Way of the Mandalore, but he’d already burned that bridge, hadn’t he?  Already bared his face to the child, to the Jedi, to all of them; already desecrated his beskar; already severed his clan of two into one, alone --

“I know,” he said hoarsely, ashamed.  “I know it’s wrong.  I -- I broke the Creed --”

She reached up slowly, rested her hand on his shoulder.  She waited, her eyes soft.  

He bowed his head, shaking.  “And I gave him up,” he whispered, burying his damp face in his hands.  “I lost my son.”

My son.

The truth he’d hid from so long flared white-hot, burning through him.  Denial had done nothing for him; all it had done was rob him of the chance to tell Grogu how much he loved him before it was too late.  It hadn’t saved him from this agony at all.  The pain roared, a howling void opening up within him, a darkness he could never hope to see through.

“I was his father,” he choked.  “What am I now?”

Cara’s hand was firm on his shoulder, steady, kind; but she had no answers for him.  In the end, the only sounds were his broken breathing and the drip, drip, drip behind the bar.

[ianenjoyer]

an overly detailed analysis of every time Ian and Mickey talked about loving each other bc I love pain and angst apparently 

1. “You love me, and you’re gay.” -Ian, 3x09

So right off the bat this one was always the most shocking to me. Throughout the season, there were definitely hints that they were falling in love with each other/already in love but the fact that this is the first time we actually hear it hurts me so much. Especially because Ian was so sure. He wasn’t asking Mickey if he loves him or begging Mickey to love him. He just... knew that he did. This scene is so raw and painful and real because you just see two kids who are desperately in love with each other, but not allowed or able to show that in a healthy way, so they just end up lashing out at each other.

2. “You try sitting on your ass while the person you love--” -Ian, 3x11

Like I said: pain. So before, we heard that Ian knows Mickey loves him, but I always thought it was interesting that he focused on that instead of telling Mickey that he loves him. Because he does, and he definitely knew that. I think this speaks to Ian’s tendency to compartmentalize and only think of his emotions in terms of other people, which he does consistently throughout the show. So here we hear him admit it, but not to Mickey, and only because he’s drunk out of his mind. Ian is just one of those people that constantly keeps things bottled up inside and only deals with them when he reaches a breaking point, which he definitely did in this episode (and we see the fall out of this in 3x12).

2.5 (bc i forgot it the first time) “You love Mickey?” -Carl, 4x11

So I do think it’s really interesting that he says “I like how he smells” here instead of just saying yes. I mean I do think he likes how Mickey smells which is very adorable but he also definitely loved Mickey at this point and he was definitely aware of that. I think he didn’t say it for two reasons: one, he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud and two, he didn’t want Mickey to hear him say it. Before, being over-eager and too obvious about his feelings hadn’t been met with a good response from Mickey, so I think he was trying to avoid scaring him off, while also doing some pretty serious compartmentalization himself. This especially makes sense considering that they weren’t technically a couple here, and that Mickey had only just started admitting (through actions, not words) that what he and Ian had was about more than sex.

3. “You love him?” -Svetlana, 4x12

The dynamic between Mickey and Svet is a very interesting one, and I don’t know if anybody could ever fully pick it apart. But in this scene, you see an odd mutual understanding between them (which extends in season 5a). And what’s truly shocking is that Mickey says “maybe”, which is such a big step for him. Before, if somebody asked him that he would have completely avoided the question while probably blowing up at the person. But he says “maybe”, showing that, even if he doesn’t fully understand his feelings, he had definitely thought about it, and it doesn’t scare him like it used to. This is definitely because he came out and finally felt like he could really be with Ian without this sword hanging over his head (even though the circumstances of that weren’t great).

4. “I love you.” -Mickey, 5x06

God this one... breaks my heart. First of all, the fact that Mickey was the first one to say it would have been shocking in seasons 1-3, but it actually makes so much sense in season 5. Over and over again this season, Mickey’s shown that he loves Ian, but the fact that he can only say it when he thinks he’s losing Ian, and that it’s obvious he didn’t mean to say it, shows that he still hasn’t fully come to terms with his feelings, no matter how strong they are. 

5. “You used to love me--now you don’t even know who I am.” Ian, 5x12

This one is almost identical to #1, except with the added piece that Ian no longer thinks he deserves to be loved. This one is so fascinating to me, because it shows, once again, that Ian projects his emotions onto other people instead of dealing with his own feelings. He tells Mickey that he used to love him, even though there’s been no indication from Mickey that he no longer loves him. He says that Mickey doesn’t know who he is when, really, he’s the one that doesn’t know who he is. He put words into Mickey’s mouth, because that’s what he believed to be true, and I really don’t think that at this point anything could have convinced him otherwise. The lack of self-worth that comes with having a mental illness is so debilitating and all-consuming that no amount of reasoning from Mickey would have done much to convince him that he deserved what Mickey was offering to give him. 

6. “I love you.” -Mickey, 5x12

So while we have Ian telling Mickey that he used to love him, Mickey counters by just saying how he feels to his face. I think that seeing Ian go though what he went through, and almost losing him like three times made it so that Mickey could no longer deny his feelings. But like I said, Ian had it so cemented in his mind that he was doomed and fucked for life, that I don’t think anything could have gotten through to him at this point. And of course at this point Noel left the show, so we never got to see what could have happened between them if Mickey had stayed. (I 100% think they would have gotten back together sometime in late season 6 after Ian reached a stable place again but whatever).

7. “I love you.” -Ian, 7x11

Fuck. 7x10 and 7x11 are such bittersweet episodes because while it does make it so clear that Ian and Mickey are the loves of each others lives, it’s also when they thought they would never see each other again. What’s extra sad it that this is the first time we’ve ever heard Ian say this. And it’s a goodbye. The only time Ian can really face his emotions head on is when he’s forced to, and he was definitely forced to here. He loves Mickey. He knows Mickey loves him. But that didn’t really matter here, and it’s so tragic, but also really realistic. As for Mickey, he doesn’t even seem surprised--because he wasn’t. He wouldn’t have asked Ian to come if he didn’t know he loved him. This scene is extra heartbreaking because of that. This whole thing just serves as a reminder that sometimes love isn’t enough, and that sometimes there are forces bigger than any two people at play, which I think has always been a central idea to their story.

8. “I love you.” “I know, love you too.” Ian and Mickey, 10x03

Mutual ‘I love you!!!! It took like 10 years but it finally happened. They say it like they’ve said it a thousand time before, which makes me think that it’s definitely not the first time they’ve said it. There’s not really much to talk about here except that finally they’re allowed to love each other. Sure it’s not an ideal situation, but it is one where there are no forces actively working to keep them apart, which is so wonderful. When Ian and Mickey are allowed to just be, they work so well. Even though they’re saying goodbye here, it’s not a real one, not like the break up or the border. It’s temporary and they both know that so for once, them saying ‘i love you’ is a happy (or at least bittersweet) thing instead of the tragedy it was all of the other times.

9. “I love you…and I trust you.” -Ian, 10x08

Remember that quote where Fiona tells Jimmysteve that to her (and all the Gallaghers) trust is bigger than love? Yeah. Anyways his scene is tough because while I don’t think Ian was necessarily lying about genuinely wanting to marry Mickey and the legal stuff just being bonus, I do think he was downplaying the importance, both to himself and Mickey. And at the courthouse, once the bonus of spousal privilege wasn’t needed, he definitely started to realize the magnitude of the situation and what connotations marriage held for him. I mean marriage isn’t something you should just decide on a whim, no matter how much you love somebody and I think he realized that the second the impending threat was gone.

10. “Mickey, I love you!” -Ian 10x08

This is him making it as clear as possible to Mickey that it’s marriage that’s the problem, not him. He saw how heartbroken Mickey was when he didn’t sign the papers, and was basically doing damage control at this point. The problem was, Mickey couldn’t see through his initial heartbreak to really listen to what Ian was saying, or try to understand where he was coming from. I think that Mickey is an incredibly understanding person, but this was just one time too many for him.

11. “You’re just saying you don’t love me enough now.” -Mickey, 10x09

This is probably the first time we’ve ever seen Mickey question Ian’s feelings for him. I think that at the courthouse, he was just so blatantly reminded of the break up and the border that he wasn’t thinking rationally. He was so terrified at the prospect of Ian not choosing him, that he couldn’t listen to Ian’s (pretty reasonable) explanation for why he didn’t get married. However, I don’t think he really believed what he was saying, especially because of how petty he was being with Byron, and how obvious he made it that he would instantly go back to Ian if he proposed. But it still is really sad that he was reminded of that all over again after believing that he and Ian were gonna get married and that he was never going to have to worry about that again.

12. “How do you know you love me?” -Ian, 10x09

I’ve written a meta on this before but here I go again. He’s once again assuming that Mickey couldn’t possibly love him--that he couldn’t possibly want to be with him forever. Not because Mickey’s done anything to indicate that, but because that’s what he thinks Mickey should feel. He genuinely can’t believe that Mickey would want to be with somebody like him, especially because of what he saw with Monica and the way she destroyed relationship after relationship (both romantic and familial). I don’t think he sees himself as being all that different from Monica, so even though that’s definitely not something Mickey would ever care about, it weighs on him heavily (and probably always will). This whole thing just so directly parallels the break up, and it’s so sad to think that, after everything, Ian still doesn’t think he’s worthy of the kind of love Mickey has for him.

13. “I love you Mickey Milkovich. More than anything.” -Ian, 10x10

More than anything!! God, the proposal was a little underwhelming but this line!! It’s Ian choosing to get past all of his doubts because his love for Mickey is bigger to him than they could ever be. Like I said, I don’t think he’ll ever fully be over his insecurities, but he can definitely choose to let Mickey in and have hope that they can work through it together. And even though Mickey knew that Ian loved him and was basically just biding his time, it must have felt amazing for him to hear it put so clearly like this.

14. “Look I love you. I love you.” -Mickey, 10x12

First of all, the way he says it is so amazing. Second of all, there isn’t much to say about this except that it’s so indicative of his growth. Like he went from being closeted and terrified, to blurting out how he feels in a room full of people. That is such a beautiful thing and I get really emo whenever I think about it. 

15. “To love and to cherish you ‘til death do us part.” -Ian and Mickey, 10x12

I actually really love that they used traditional vows for their wedding. So much of their relationship was complicated and hard, so to have something very simplistic but meaningful as their vows was so perfect. And the way they say them... they’re being so sincere and so honest. They really mean what they’re saying. They love each other!! And they’re married!! Wow!! That’s all I have to say about this.

[ready-to-obeyme]

[Obey Me!] Falling in Love/Soft Moments for the Demon Brothers (Part 1)

What makes them soft for you?? What makes them think “my god im so in love with you”? I just  *clenches fist* have so many feelings about them

Part 1 has the oldest three brothers; hopefully my brain can come up with more soon

edit: my brain has come up with more with Part 2

--

Lucifer

I mean.... not in the main storyline but it’s evident that Lucifer is a lot softer with you in events or devilgram stories

but it’s whenever you’re soft, he’s soft (so soft)

it takes another person to be vulnerable and uwu with him for him to let down his guard and do the same because he certainly isn’t going to do it on his own considering he’s wayyyy used to having to be the uptight one, the responsible one, the designated driver

just get him drunk

I think it’s the private moments and small gestures of love that get him the most

making him hell’s coffee that’s always as bitter af that makes him a preen a little inside every time he drinks it

maybe give him a little love note each time that doesn’t have to necessarily declare your love, just things like “Mammon didn’t steal Diavolo’s study lamp today-- yw <3″ or “make sure you drink some water after this” or just “love you” 

coming into the study just to sit next to him and read a book/scroll on devilgram, showing him funny pics or comments whenever you feel like he’s not as jam packed with work as he normally is

waiting for him to finish at RAD so you could walk home together, holding hands all the way back (maybe swing it a little, be playful-- he might huff or give you a look, but his heart is so light) 

have him hold you in your arms and let him bury his nose into your hair as you talk about your day and lull him to sleep-- and if you fall asleep first, that’s fine; because now he has time to be in the moment and just love you

it’s the small yet constant reminders that you are here with him, that you care for him-- your presence itself lets Lucifer relax and feel like he can be himself around you-- especially if you sprinkle in a little healthy (and harmless) playfulness around him 

that’s what makes him fall for you every time, in the quietest and smallest moments of the day

Mammon

be an idiot with him

all joking aside, I think one of the reasons why I feel like the way your and Mammon’s relationship progresses so naturally in the game is because he falls in love with you over that time 

the confession didn’t feel forced-- and it was because you truly created a bond with him that went beyond his pact 

laugh with him, indulge in his plans but always keep the safety of the two of you in mind

I don't think MC has ever gotten mad at Mammon for real except for that one option you get on the train ride in London

he doesn’t need a mother-figure per say, but it’s nice to have someone on his side for once, gently taking care of him and taking into consideration his feelings above all else

“I think it was unfair of them to blame that on you,” you tell Mammon rather furiously. “you’re the best out of all of them, you know that?”

“Sorry, I was too mad to speak up; I’ll definitely tell them off next time.”

he doesn’t need defending, but by god, he loves you for trying anyways

that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him-- because there are certainly times even he admits he was Not The Best-- but when you do it, you hook arms with him, lean into him, laugh and smile and he knows that you would never mean any of it

I think Mammon needs a lot of reassurance that people don’t think he’s an actual idiot, and you provide it to him through your loving affection and consistent friendship (and love)

his love languages are first and foremost, (1) quality time, (2) physical touch and (3) words of affirmation

especially since’s he’s one of the worst tsunderes of his brothers, any honesty from you will blow him out of the water

“Mammon, I think you’re so sweet.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the cutest smile?”

“I really like it when you laugh; it makes me happy.”

“What? Really? Huh-- I--” (gottem)

love him, care for him, and handle him with the utmost care and the gentlest hands you can manage and he’s in love

Leviathan

when he’s ranting about something he really likes, not really expecting you to listen as long as you’re there

but you ask him questions, commenting about certain topics or details of his favorite anime (active listening) -- and he realizes that you’re actually listening to him 

“you know, you can stop me at any time... I know I can go overboard talking about these things.”

“I don’t mind!” you respond earnestly, and even he can’t deny how genuine you sound. “besides, I like hearing you talk about something you’re passionate about.”

“don’t you get bored though?”

“Not if it’s about something you care about.”

if he wasn’t already melting at that, when you approach him the next day asking if he’s seen this scene of this part of the anime or asking for help on this one part of the game

because it tells him that not only did you listen to him, you partook in something that he was interested in so that you guys would have something to bond with

I think Levi is used to being not understood, not that he’s any particularly difficult to understand, but because people have grown used to him dedicating his time and effort into something that they could never take upon themselves to feel the same amount of passion

he’s used to people not making an effort to find out what he likes, why he likes them (though i’ve seen devilgram scenes where Mammon (bless him) tries to), and trying to see the appeal in something that may not be as conventional 

to see you, wanting to put time and effort into doing something just because HE loves it makes him feel unbelievably validated

it’s hard for him to hide a goofy smile behind his veneer of seriousness as he explains to you what Mononoke Land is or disagree that Season 4 was not better than the previous ones--- but by god, he falls in love with you just a little more

[mmvalentine]

Afraid of the Dark pt 3 | Feysand

Prompt fill: "Feysand as werewolves." Read part 1 part 2 part 4. CW: violence.

Feyre stayed five weeks with Rhys before Tamlin found her.

The first few days, she walked around like a ghost, and then she got very hard headed all of a sudden and decided that was enough and she was moving on with her life.

Rhys's crew visited every day, after that. Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren. The people he always saw hanging around the bar with him, but had never talked to her as much as Rhys had. And they were so lovely.

In truth, Feyre was not entirely comfortable with it at first. Kept shrinking into Rhys's side, because him she knew but she couldn't fathom why the others were being so nice to her. But over the weeks, she came to crave their presence and delight in their warmth and their wickedness.

Feyre never went back to the house. She gave the key to Rhys's friends and they went during work hours to collect her things. And to leave the letter that she had written Tamlin, telling him that she was leaving him, and not to come look for her.

Somewhere in the second week she started sleeping in Rhys's bed. Just turned up one day, after lying awake yet again in the spare room and not knowing how to sleep alone, and crawled in next to him. He had wrapped his arms around her and gone straight back to sleep like they did this every day. And so they did.

And of course Feyre got to go back to Velaris. Still loved it there, and although Tamlin was sure to check there for her eventually, she felt safe being surrounded by people in leather jackets. One night, they stayed late after closing and Rhys had to carry her home. It was only wine-drunk that she was able to finally ask him.

"So," she said slowly, once he had gotten them both into bed. "You're a werewolf."

"Sometimes," Rhys responded, moving his head on the pillow.

"Not sometimes," Feyre argued. "You're either a werewolf or you're not."

"Well, sometimes I'm a werewolf, and sometimes I'm just Rhys."

"Okay just Rhys," Feyre said tipsily. "Well I liked you as Mr Wolf, too."

Rhys chuckled. "Well thanks."

"Can you be Mr Wolf some time again? I miss him."

Rhys looked at her strangely. "Why?"

"Because I could always tell him things."

"You can still tell me things."

Feyre frowned, and her eyes slid closed. "Not as many things," she said, and then fell asleep.

When she woke up, Rhys was a wolf.

He was curled up on the foot of the bed, and Feyre grinned broadly at him.

"Mr Wolf!" she said happily. She got up and patted his soft, black fur, and scratched his massive ears.

For a minute, Rhys just lifted his chin and enjoyed the scratches. Then he hopped off the bed, and looked back at Feyre with those endless violet eyes. She scrambled out of bed, and followed.

"Where are we going Mr Wolf?" she asked. She pulled her coat and shoes on. "Are we going for a walk? It's been a while."

Suddenly she was excited. She hadn't walked through the forest in some time, and she had never walked with the wolf in the day time.

"I've got so many things to tell you," she said.

So they walked.

The forest was different early in the morning. The fog was thick and everything smelled fresh, and green. Rhys let Feyre lead the way, padding along silently next to her.

"Well," Feyre started. "The big update I have for you is that I've left Tamlin. Didn't think I could ever do it, but here we are. And you know what?" She looked at Rhys, and grinned. "I think I'm actually happy." She laughed. "I didn't know I could be happy."

Feyre jumped down off a log, and Rhys landed right behind her. She kept walking. "Everyone's so nice to me. Most of the time I feel like I don't deserve it, but also I don't know what I'd do without them all."

She sat down on a large stone, and Rhys sat down next to her.

"And you," she said, stroking his head. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Suddenly, Rhys went taut. He leapt in front of Feyre and started growling, teeth out and ears flat against his head.

"What's wrong?" Feyre breathed. She looked around, scanning wildly for the danger Rhys clearly could scent.

"Just stay still," came a voice. Feyre whipped her head toward it, and Tamlin stepped out of the forest with a shotgun on his shoulder.

"Stay very still, and it'll all be over," Tamlin said.

"No," Feyre breathed. "No Tamlin, don't."

"It's okay," Tamlin said, "I'm here to save you."

"Tamlin don't, it's not hurting me!"

"It's a wild animal, Feyre." He looked up at her then. "And where the hell have you been, anyway?"

Feyre lifted her chin. "It's not your concern anymore. We're no longer together."

"We're together until I say we're not," Tamlin snarled. "Now I'm going to put this thing down and then you're coming home with me."

Rhys was growling louder now, stepping toward Tamlin but also wary of the shot gun.

"No!" Feyre cried. "Okay. Okay look, I'll come home with you, just don't shoot the wolf."

"Like I give a fuck about what you want, or about some stupid mangy dog," Tamlin said, and then pulled the trigger.

Feyre dove.

Dove right into the path because she knew it was coming, knew Tamlin would always choose violence over negotiation especially when it meant giving up anything for Feyre. So she jumped, and collected the bullet somewhere against her ribcage and by the time she hit the ground Rhys had already lunged for Tamlin's throat.

She closed her eyes. Time seemed to speed up between blinking.

Opened her eyes and Rhys was human again, and Tamlin was lying somewhere further away and not moving. Closed her eyes.

Opened her eyes and she was in Rhys's lap, and he had taken off his jacket and t-shirt and was strips of the latter to bind her wound. Closed her eyes.

Opened her eyes and realised Rhys had been talking to her.

"Feyre," he was saying. "Feyre, Feyre why did you do that, fuck why Feyre? I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry."

It's not your fault," she said to him. Her mouth felt like it was moving through treacle as she tried to talk.

"I told you you'd never have to worry about him again," Rhys said. "And I failed. We're going to get you to a hospital," he said.

But Feyre knew that the nearest hospital was miles away, there was no cell reception in the forest, and they were on foot.

"You know," Feyre said. "I don't mind dying."

"I mind," Rhys gritted out. "You aren't going to die today."

"I've just... not had that good a time being alive." She lifted a hand to his face, and it was red with blood. "Maybe it'd be different if I was like you. If I were you, I'd just be a wolf forever and ever and I'd live in the forest and be happy."

Rhys went still. "Would you?" he asked. "Would you be happy as a wolf? As a half thing?" Feyre smiled.

"Better half human than whole human, I reckon," she said.

"Alright," Rhys said. His throat was tight and his voice was hoarse. "I can make that happen."

"Make what happen?" Feyre asked, and then her eyes closed again and the pain stopped, and a peace spread through her belly. She didn't mind, truly. Didn't mind dying. The last thing she was conscious of was Rhys's lips on the join of her neck and shoulder.

Not his lips.

His teeth.

****

Did I just want to kill Tamlin off? Maybe.

Okay looks like it's 4 parts not 3 because ya gal CANNOT write concisely! One more, rascals xx

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

[ruubles]

A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol , Cursing , Mentions of Violence , Suggestive Dialogue 

Word Count: 6,180

Chuuya’s eyes scanned across the scene unfolding inside the dim lit bar: Their vermilion blue watching as the patrons cheered and drank their sanity away with glasses of liquor. The source of their blissful unrest was a woman, her height far surpassing most in the bar as she held up a glass filled to the brim with what seemed to be vodka. Her smile seemed to radiate light even in the darkened room as she poured some of the liquid from her glass to theirs. A smile as pure as the chill that nipped its way through the skin, weaved in and out of view as she passed along the intoxicating drink to the numerous men gathering around her.

Though Chuuya had been to this bar many times, he’d never once seen a person who even reassembled the one passing along the beverage. Most of the time the bar was quiet and filled with a content array of individuals who sought only to drink away burdensome memories, but with every passing moment the number of rowdy men seemed to grow. The time of ease had passed long before he’d arrived, likely some time before midnight, and as the clock scrapped its way past three no one showed any signs of returning to the way it had usually been. He found it very annoying, his peaceful night disturbed by someone who he’d never seen step foot inside the bar he so often visited.

She was tall, towering over most men in the room by several inches, her height without heels would surely surpass six feet but with the added inches she was a head above all. The brilliant black hair bounced in curls as she swayed to the gentle music flowing through the unrelenting chatter of the men, even from afar he could see how well groomed the tassels of hair that fell across her face seemed to be. He could see why the men in the room had taken a liking to her, she was beyond beautiful in comparison to the woman who usually kept to themselves in the corner of the bar: Much like how he sat now, analyzing the woman who’d started this boisterous night so many hours ago. Even though he’d watched her take many a sip from the bottle in her hand, she showed no sign of intoxication, but with every added bit of alcohol entering her system the deep color of rust gleamed brighter in her eyes.

Looking down at his phone, the screen flickering to light in the palm of his hand, he took note of the passing of time. Nearly an hour had gone by since he’d made his way to the table nestled sweetly into the corner of the room, it was the best spot to sit for observation with a clean view of the entire floor. Several message notifications popped up but none important enough to tear him away from this night: Though he was not nearly as drunk as he’d desired to be, he still wished to eventually reach that point. The events leading up to this desire for a heedless night of drinking were long and tedious: Mori had pushed numerous assignments onto his hands, all of which were to be completed before the days end, thus making for a long strenuous day.

Sighing he clicked the button on the side of the device, its screen dying in the palms of his hand to leave only his own reflection staring back. Tiredness fluttered across his expression as he saw the way bags sat unmoving under his eyes and for a moment he contemplated leaving the bar. Had he gotten a second drink when he finished his first then this thought would be far gone, but with only the lightest bit of fuzz trickling through his mind it seemed to ring in the space between his ears. This night had meant to be calm and allow for a bit of relaxation but as the scandalous men continued to slur their speeches of undying love for the woman, it showed no signs of peace.

His head fell back, red hair falling softly atop the black leather of the bar seat as he watched the ceiling so high above head. Raising a hand he blocked the brightest of lights and focused on the ones that had burned out quite a long time ago: They had worked so hard to brighten such a dim shop and yet they were left for dead. It crossed his mind that maybe this would be himself. Chuuya had dedicated his life to the Port Mafia and continued to work everyday under Mori’s substantial leadership, but when the day was done all he could do was bury his head in a bottle of sweet, crimson wine. If he were to die now then all the work he’d put in would be outshined by those who had worked far less but held more natural talent than he: Though he held no plans to die in the near future.

The sounds of music drifted through his mind, gentle notes of familiar jazz bringing back memories of a life before this: One with friends that he’d thought cared dearly for him. Closing his eyes he took in the lingering smell of alcohol floating through the unending stretch of the bar: The spirituous smell of a strong vodka that likely belonged to the woman he’d been watching for such a long period of time. She’d captivated his gaze by so carelessly being able to move through a crowd as large as the one she’d pulled together with her bewitching beauty. Though the people who’d been enchanted by her seemed to have quieted in the short time he’d been resting his eyes.

Lost in a dark sea of thoughts, Chuuya had been too enamored with his own mind to realize the approach of another person. Their appearance at his table only came to light when, with one swift motion, tore his hat from his head. Shooting up his blue eyes held a threatening glare towards the woman who’d stolen his tattered old hat, her (E/C) eyes meeting his in an almost instant connection of infatuation. Sitting atop her nape of silken (H/C) hair was the article of clothing in which she’d chosen to steal from him. 

“If you keep scowling like that then your face might get stuck that way.” She let out a gentle laugh, pulling the hat from her head before using a hand to fix several strands of her untamed locks. Without a second of hesitation she sat herself down across from him, (E/C) eyes lit by the flickering candle in the center of their now shared table. His hat had found its way back atop her head and forced a shadow to cascade down upon her sharp features.

“Who the hell are you.” Chuuya’s voice rose above the gentle jazz still buzzing through the background, deep and clear as he calmly demanded an answer from the woman. His blue eyes that once sparkled with the life of the ocean were now as cold as ice, watching her every movement in hopes of finding the right moment to snatch his hat back. Though the task was simple, he’d much prefer to keep the conversation somewhat civil and not start a fight. 

“Just a lonely bar frequenter looking for someone to exchange words with.” Once again she let out a quiet chuckle, hands twirling together as she played with a diamond ring resting upon her finger. Since making her unwarranted appearance she’d been messing with her hands, but it wasn’t until now that he noticed the jewelry twinkling in the candle. “Though I guess I must come off as something far more rude after stealing your hat. My apologies.”

With one swift movement she pulled the hat off her head, holding the rounded black brims in her hand as she ran slender fingers across the snuffed edges. Not many people had enough confidence to steal from another person, especially not from a mafia executive, but she hadn’t hesitated for a single second. Perhaps it could be considered rude or even foolish to approach another person in this way but more than anything it was intriguing. A smile of true temperament spread slowly across her lips, tugging at the corners to form a look of a dolorous sight. Reaching out she offered back his most precious belonging, hand extended in a sign of peace when she’d realized just how truly strange her actions had been.

Quickly Chuuya snatched his hat back, rubbing away flecks of dirt before returning it to its usual spot atop his fiery red hair. The woman watched intently as if to not spark any incentive of harm and the short man seemed to understand as he leaned back, any anger slowly dripping away from his expression as he took a final sip from his now empty glass of fine wine. Its fruity flavor lingered on his lips; Soft and sweet as if filled with memories of delicate feet dancing through vineyards in preparations of a coming harvest. Perhaps it smelled of the same scent that it tasted, but the strong scent of vodka seemed to drip from the woman before him and made it near impossible to distinguish the smell of his wine.

Though it was clear that she had been drinking before finding her way to him, she showed no signs of insobriety. Behind her the crowd of men had begun to fade, one by one realizing the woman who’d been leading the charge of celebration was nowhere to be found. Without their loud, slurred speech the music began to drift through the air and back into his ears. The jazz had stopped and now a classic rock rumbled its way through his mind. 

“What makes you think I’ll accept your apology?” He was stern and unwavering as he threatened to form a new feud with her. She seemed so calm even as he laid the threat out for all eyes to see: So much so that she was confident enough for her gaze to finally leave him. With that crestfallen smile falling to her hands she finally stopped the irksome fidgeting of her ring. “This hat is quite important to me and I don’t take kindly to people touching it. Especially not a strange woman who I’ve never seen before.”

“You make a fair point but I have a feeling you don’t really want to be alone during a long night of drinking. What would it hurt if you talked with that strange woman until she became such a nuisance that you killed her?” The comment had come from a strange place, changing the demeanor of the entire conversation with such simple words. For a moment Chuuya’s mind turned towards his former partner: Osamu Dazai, a man obsessed with suicide that it entwined itself into his everyday life. He couldn’t deny the similarities in the way they spoke: Sharp witted with a hint of tease.

“Let’s say I don’t strangle you for touching my hat.” He leaned forward, eyeing her with suspicious vermillion eyes until she finally met his gaze. “What gives you the idea I’d want to spend my peaceful night drinking with another person when I could so easily do it by my lonesome.”

“Is that really what you want? Of course I’d understand, wallowing in your own self pity always makes for a great evening but wouldn’t it be nice to share a glass of wine with a beautiful and mysterious woman.” She reached for his glass and pulled it towards her. Much like she had with her hat, she ran a slender finger across its rim and Chuuya only continued to watch her small movements. A chip on the glass caught her skin and gently cut at her delicate (S/C) finger; A droplet of blood finding its way to the bottom of the glass. 

He took note of how she hadn’t flinched, instead watching as she flipped the cup upside down, her drop of blood running down along the side of his glass. “If you wish to drink alone then by all means tell me to go, but I’d truly enjoy it if you’d accompany me to the bar.”

Chuuya watched as she stood up, leaving his glass flipped on the table with her blood staining the clear glass a bright crimson. If it hadn’t been for another droplet of blood rolling from her fingertip and onto the black carpet, he likely could have viewed her blood as the wine that had once filled his cup. She was a moderate height in comparison to the behemoth of a woman who’d been passing out the vodka minutes ago: (H/L) (H/C) hair falling in tassels atop her head and swaying with the few steps she’d taken. It was obvious she wasn’t exactly dressed for the bar, unlike most of the women she wore a pair of patchy black flats and a white pantsuit that was more suited for a day in an office building than a night in a bar.

“Out of pure curiosity, what’s your name?” Chuuya hadn’t expected her to glance back at him. Her brilliant (E/C) dancing in the darkness as she dared to search for something more than the ruthless mafia executive. Perhaps she was wishing for someone like her: Lonesome and willing to take a gamble for a night of forgotten mistakes. Yet he couldn’t allow her to see that part of him.

“(L/N) (Y/N). Though (Y/N) is preferred.” She turned away once again, not wanting to impose herself more on his life than she already had. It was a sweet gesture to not force any questions onto what was already a tipsy man. Chuuya watched her make her way through the floor, dodging the free flying hands of the people still moving about. Eventually she had safely found a spot at the bar with no one sitting even remotely close to her.

Chuuya didn’t care much for small talk, especially when it included a person who’d had the credence to think that he was purely drinking to forget his troublesome day: Though it was partially the reason, he also quite enjoyed the taste of a nice fruity wine. A buzz tore him from his ire thoughts, his phone calling him with the notification of a message bringing the screen to life. Once again he pulled the object from his pocket and scanned over the brief words, ‘Meeting at three tomorrow. Mori wants everyone on time and please don’t show up hungover, it’s an important day.’.

His admiration for Kouyou was not something he hid and he would do whatever she wished of him, but for some reason the message had just irked something inside him. Today, well yesterday, had been yet another important day filled to the brim with banal tasks forced onto him by Mori. Had it been an order and not just a mere request from the older woman then he would’ve obliged without hesitation, but the smell of sweet alcohol called him from afar and pulled his eyes back to the bar. Still she sat alone, glass of wine in hand as another untouched glass sat to the seat to her right.

It was clearly set there for him but he could see several men throughout the bar eyeing the prize as if it were theirs to claim. There was no denying she was a beautiful woman and it was likely the men desired her more than the wine beside her; They were dogs begging for a piece of meat but he was more so a lynx relishing in the blood of its fallen prey. Returning his phone to his pocket, Chuuya left his table and the upside down glass behind to seek after the woman who’d offered a hand of help to those who desired to be drunk on this lengthy night. Any person who attempted to even near her was quickly warned away by his minacous glares.

“I didn’t think you’d actually follow me.” She attempted to hide her smirk by taking a long sip of her wine but the pride was riddling her expression. Chuuya rolled his eyes and picked up the glass, swirling its contents round in round as if the churning water held all the answers he ever wished for.

“The only reason I’m here is for the wine, nothing more.” He put the glass to his lips and took a long sip, the insipid wine running down his throat and bringing a sour look to his face. Rolling his eyes he placed the glass back down and shoved it further away from him. The girl watched him as he did so, though it was clear she had no desire to continue her own glass, took another sip. “That tastes like shit.”

“It’s a clearance bottle from the store down the street. Personally I’d prefer something a bit more… tasteful” Chuuya sat and watched as the woman jumped over the bar, her hand holding her weight as she swung herself across. It was quick and fluid motion that he hadn’t  entirely expected from someone like her: She didn’t seem weak but doing something like that was difficult for most normal people. 

The barkeep rolled his eyes but still gave her a gentle pat on the head, softly rustling her locks of hair before she tore herself from his hand. “When you disappeared I thought surely you’d have taken one of those men home.”

“As if I’d ever let those buffoons into my pants, I may be a slut but not even I’d go that low.” She retorted with an added bit of arrogance before ducking down below the counter to someplace Chuuya couldn’t see. “Is the password still the same Isaac?”

“Only your first night back and you’re already opening up one of your special finds, if this is what I”m to expect while you’re in town then I might need to stock up.” The bartender squatted down behind the counter and several quiet beeps filled the air before he came back up. Skepticism ran through Chuuya’s mind but before it could cause him to make any rash decisions, his eyes met the bartenders: Tall and lean, blue eyes brilliant as they burned in the dim light, and his long black hair pulled back to show his sharp features. He seemed to always be working behind the counter, serving drink after drink no matter what time of day it was, but Chuuya wouldn’t question it as long as he was served.

As if sensing the unease that laced itself in Chuuya’s brows, the bartender, who’s name he now knew to be Isaac, offered a small bow of his head for respect. It was commonplace for members of the mafia to come to the small bar tucked safely inside an alley and thus the bartender had become somewhat of an honorary member of the mafia. Personally Chuuya had never spoken to him but he did know that Kouyou loved his mijito’s. If she trusted this establishment enough to come here biweekly for such a simple drink then he should have no anxieties himself: Plus if things were to end in a fight he was sure that he could handle his own.

After what seemed an eternity the woman finally arose from the underside of the bar with two fresh glasses in her hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She spun the bottle by its narrowed top and Chuuya could only catch a glimpse of its moving label. It came to a slow stop and his eyes lit up, surprised by the bottle clutched in her deft hands. “A 1985 Leroy Ruchottes, expensive but fitting for a dreary night like this one.”

“Sharing your 1985 with someone you don’t even know.” Isaac huffed before he grabbed the two unfinished drinks, their bland contents going to waste as he poured them down a sink.  “You must have gone mental from staying in that barren iceland for so long.”

The woman, (Y/N), rolled her rousing (E/C) eyes and down the supplies in her hands. “Isn’t it against the policy for customers to be behind the bar, Mr.Newton? I wonder what would happen if the owner were to find out that their endearing manager had broken such a simple rule.”

“If anyone were to get into trouble it’d be you.” He huffed in annoyance before turning and making his way across the bar to serve another patron. This left (Y/N) and Chuuya alone, both a bit tipsy from their nights of drinking, but still comprehensive enough to understand how little they know of one another. They were worlds apart but somehow they’d found themselves across from one another: Not knowing why the other had found their way into the bar on this fateful night.

Chuuya watched as she poured the fine wine into a fresh glass for him. Her movements were soft enough to avoid any splashing of the wine, it was as though she’d been trained to do that very thing in an elegant manner. “If I’m splitting a two-thousand dollar wine with you, I’d like to ask a question.”

He raised an eyebrow at her words, not prepared for such a statement but fully intending on seeing where it led. “Continue.”

“What brought you to the bar tonight?”

The question was so simple yet so forlorn with his tale of a despondent day. He didn’t know what exactly to tell the women who brimmed with curiosity at his untold daily life. Once again he was reminded they were strangers, nothing more than passerby in the stream of life, she’d likely never see him again after this night so there was no point in sharing detail. Plus, of course, there were the dangers of sharing any detail of what work he did within the mafia.

“Just needed to cool down.” He picked the glass and spun the liquid round in circles, watching as the crimson tinted the glass. Skepticism laced through his vision in fear of tasting yet another crappy wine from some dollar store. “Though it didn’t go as planned with that outrageous entourage for that tall ass woman.”

(Y/N) laughed, a quiet sound resonating through her throat and filling the air between them. It was filled with the softness of honey and dripping with the warmth of a bittersweet dark chocolate: Perfect and prim. “She has that effect on people.”

“You know her?” Her statement had caught him by surprise. When his eyes had scanned across the room he’d taken note of all those throughout the building but never once had he seen the woman across the counter, so why had she appeared as soon as her friend had disappeared.

“You could say that.” Once again she gave a mysterious answer that hid any truth of what her business inside this bar was. She was generous with her questions to him, wanting to know more of who he was by offering a wine, yet she gave no information of who she was. Outside this bar he had no clue who she was. “So you needed to cool down? What could cause a man such as yourself so much stress that you want nothing more than to get drunk with a beautiful woman at your side.”

“Work is pretty shitty when no one seems to do anything correctly.” Chuuya took a sip of the wine she’d poured for him. It was perfectly chilled as it rolled through his lips and down his throat, the fruity flavor danced across his tongue. He was familiar with fine wines and this truly was one. “How about yourself? At this point you seem to know more about me than I do about you and I don’t think that’s entirely fair.”

“I guess I’m in a similar boat with the work bit. Four years away from Yokohama and my boss wanted me to drop everything to return here.” She took another sip of the wine before putting it down on the counter. Her (E/C) eyes seemed to soften and fill with a tiredness that matched her gruesome words from earlier this night. “Never thought I’d be back here after what happened.”

The last bit was not meant for his ears and he knew that well enough from the exhaustion bushed inside her tone, but he couldn’t just leave it at that. Curiosity brimmed in his head and with the haze of alcohol settling in his mind he couldn’t bear to not ask any questions. “What happened?”

She didn’t respond, eyes glazing in memories that flowed through her thoughts like water. A ring blasted above the music in the room and that was what finally tore her from her thoughts. (Y/N) was quick to answer her phone, pulling it from her white pocket and pressing it to her ear. “Yes sir, I’ll be there within the hour… No there isn’t a need for a car… Thank you, sir.”

“Your boss?” Chuuya took a large sip of the wine as he watched her pocket her phone and gulp the final ounces of her drink. “I guess this is where we part ways.”

“It would seem that way. Feel free to finish the bottle and if Isaac tries to charge you then just remind him that it was a personal bottle.” (Y/N) pushed the bottle further towards him and Chuuya was happy to take it off her hands and pull it beside his glass. A small smile rested on her lips from the sight of her precious wine not being wasted. She gave a small whistle then waved at the bartender, Isaac returning the gesture with a small flick of his hand. “It was nice talking with you…”

Her voice trailed off as she searched for a name she hadn’t been given. “Chuuya Nakahara.”

“Chuuya.” She tested the name on her tongue, its syllables weighed a hefty amount as they floated through the air. With that final call to him she turned and made her way to the door and left him alone sitting on a stool. He could’ve let her leave but it felt wrong to let this end on such a rancorous note.

“You ever steal my hat again I swear I’ll kill you!”

“Promise?”

~ x ~

The table was filled with a quiet chatter as everyone awaited the arrival of Ougai Mori who seemed to be running late this early morning. A meeting this large was uncommon to say the least, Chuuya couldn’t remember the last time that many people had been seated around this large table. Kouyou and he sat at the forefront on either side of where Mori should have been sitting, lining the sides were numerous ranked members within the mafia. What had originally meant to be a meeting among only him, Mori and Kouyou had somehow turned into this situation without his knowing.

Chuuya leaned back in his seat, resting his hat over his face to block the dim light fluttering throughout the room, but yet it did nothing to soothe the knot in his head. After finishing the bottle of wine given to him by the mysterious woman he’d blacked out and the hangover became inevitable. Kouyou had been sure to taunt him from the moment he’d slouched in the chair across from her, but she was kind enough to provide him with a glass of water.

“I hear you had a drinking partner last night, are the rumors true?” Her voice was chilled with the usual icy tone but he knew she meant no harm in her words. It was a procedure for them to keep up a distant attitude when people were around: Being executives had few flaws and having to be uptight during work hours was one of them.

“Partner is a strong word. She disappeared after her first drink and left me alone to finish a bottle.” Chuuya didn’t bother to move his hat off his head, using it as a cover to the prodding light. The whole room was filled with harsh utterance that hurt his all too sensitive hungover self. “Though I must admit the wine tasted great.”

There was no chance for Kouyou to respond as the doors to the room burst open, wide and unexpected to allow a bright light to flood the dim room. Everyone in the table straightened as their quiet chatters fell to a silent void. Chuuya pushed his hat back and leaned forward, hunched in hopes to not lose the little bites of food he’d taken before leaving his apartment this morning. Mori walked with Elise close on his heels, he stayed silent as the short blonde girl tugged harshly at his sleeve. Her pleas to leave the meeting were a screech in Chuuya’s sore head but he had no ability to fight back. 

“Good morning.” His words held a bit of joy laced underneath their serious air. “I’d like to thank you all for finding the time to attend this meeting.”

“Did we have a choice whether to attend?” Kouyou covered her mouth with a fan, teasing Mori’s kindness with the jab at his gracious thanks to the people sitting solemnly around the table.

“You always have a choice, but there are no promises saying you wouldn’t have been harmed if you chose not to attend.” It took a minute for him to walk the length of the table but finally his intransigent steps came to a halt and he sat at the head of the table. Like usual his hands adorned deep white gloves, but while they had usually been hidden beneath the table messing with one of his scalpels, they sat atop the gleaming wood as his fingers fidgeted with one another. The small motion tore at most people throughout the table as they realized just how serious this situation must be. “Before we start I’d like to make a few things clear. First off: The woman you are about to meet is dangerous and I am not able to guarantee absolute safety for any of you.”

Curiosity spiked within the room, everyone listening intently as for the first time in years Mori addressed all his high ranking agents in one message. The warning of an incoming dangerous person was intriguing and though a bit worrying they could not fight against his order. “Secondly: Information shared within this room is to remain within this room, if it discovers you leaked any bit of intelligence you will be executed.”

That much was obvious to even those who didn’t regularly attend meetings like this: Information within the Port Mafia was to be kept within no matter the cost. Dropping any bit of intel would result in a severe punishment if not your death. “My final word of warning is only to be heeded for Chuuya. Do not try and ask to change this situation, my word is final.”

“What are you saying boss? It seems like you‘re already expecting me to hate what’s about to happen.”

His laugh was chilling, cold and desolate in the curiosity implicit room. The smile that followed was fanatical as Mori faced down his executive. Though Chuuya would follow Mori to death and further he couldn’t help but question what decision he’d made this time. Kouyou also seemed to be wary of what their leader had gotten them into. Mori was a well thought man but from what he’d said in these few minutes it seemed as though he’d lost his intelligence to a crazed insanity. If not even he could guarantee the safety of those in this room then whoever this woman was had to be someone of high strength.

“I’ll keep this short: As of late, there’s been a drug circulating throughout the underground. One that has the capability of permanently robbing a person of their ability. I’ve brought in an old agent who I’m certain can help us uncover who’s behind this creation of this horrid drug.” Mori’s hands clasped together and sent a sharp clasp flooding through the air, it scraped through every crevice in the room and dared anyone to try and ask a question. He was yet to finish speaking but many people in the room had become restless upon hearing what he’d said so far. “She will be your new partner for the time.”

“With all due respect, I don’t need a partner; I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.” Chuuya’s words were held with an air of tempted duplicity: After what had happened with Dazai he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to be chained to yet another person as a partner.

“You say as much but I’m afraid even your ability isn’t a match for the challenges we are about to face. The agent I’ve called back used to be an executive much like you, ambitious and astute without a will to allow her to back down.” Mori stood from his seat and Elise was quick to push it in, the young blonde seeming to straighten her attitude as Mori’s air changed in a matter of moments. This was serious. “It would do you well to remember that she is of equal rank with both you and Kouyou. She is far stronger than she seems and I assure you that this partnership you will endure will be prosperous.”

His steps held an air of solitude, one after another as he made his way down the opposite side of the table to the large door at the front of the room. Around the table everyone watched his movements, people craned their heads in hopes of meeting his twisted stares to understand what exactly he was speaking of. As of now only two people were meant to talk: Mori and Chuuya. Kouyou understood this and kept her questions closed within herself.

“You said she used to be an executive, what happened? Am I working with someone who’s going to stab me in the back the moment she sees a better opportunity?” If Chuuya had to choose a single standard for a partner it would be that of trustworthiness. He was curious if this woman could live up to what should be such a simple standard, but most seemed to find it difficult to comprehend. 

“She received a promotion of sorts.”

“As for the betrayal bit, I could have easily done so last night. Yet I chose to kindly share some of my time with you.” A voice rang through the room, it was softer than it had been hours before. Chuuya was shocked when the woman who’d offered him a bottle of wine stepped through the door of the meeting room: Her white pantsuit had been traded for a black jumpsuit that covered every inch of her form, neck to feet, not leaving any crevice of skin to be seen. She was more rigid than she’d been, her shoulders tense as if relaying a sense of power, but her (E/C) eyed stare was far more gentle. “Did you enjoy your wine, Chuuya?”

“You- you?!” His hands harshly met the long table as he shot from his chair, utter disbelief coursing throughout his body as he watched her stand there. She seemed innocent, holding papers against her chest as Mori placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the open seat at the opposite end of the table. “What the hell! You didn’t think to tell me you were a part of the mafia.”

“As of last night I had no information on you or your relations within the mafia.” Mori leaned and whispered several words into her ear, soft spoken so as to not allow anyone else to hear. She responded with a simple nod and a smile twisted its way onto his boss's lips. “When Ogai requested me to return here I was told of our partnership. I’m happy to be working with you, Chuuya Nakahara. May our relations be affluent for both parties.”

This was a different woman than who he’d spoken with at the bar during the evening: She was sharp and witted without a wavering will, just by her earlier stance you could see that she knew she was well-acquitted with strength. It was as though the fun loving lady who’d stolen his hat had merely been a jest. Mori returned to her side and set a plate before her, beside the papers she'd brought with her, its content was a simple slice of cake. Her eyes which held a great deal of softness widened and a smile replaced the confident, thin-lipped look she had.

“You spoil me Ogai! A chocolate cake from Ms.Young’s bakery, how deliciously expensive a treat.” She took a bite of it, eyes twinkling with satisfaction as the treat nearly melted upon contact with her tongue. “Now that I’ve exchanged my pleasantries, I believe it’s time for us to get to business.”

[ofstarsandfireflies]

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this movie, but how could I not put it on the list?

Addams Family

A creepy and kooky family get a surprise visitor.

Stephen’s family takes after his last name.

Truly, in every sense of the word.

Peter would seem like the only normal one if he wasn’t climbing on the walls half the time to avoid Harley shooting his potato gun at him, which he often swaps out the potatoes for bombs half the time.

The explosions he can deal with, and the mess they make is quickly cleaned up again.

They’re still kids and he wants them to have as much fun as they possibly can.

They’re just energetic and highly spirited, like their father.

Speaking of Tony...Stephen is just as much head over heels for him today as the first time they met and destroyed a planet together almost twenty years ago.

Sparks literally flew that day, and it was a wonder they even survived it with how they couldn’t keep their eyes off one another.

Stephen proposed that very night and they’d been in wedded bliss ever since.

He would die for him.

He would kill for him.

And every morning he lets Tony sleep in because the man deserves it.

Especially since every night leaves him exhausted.

And sometimes during the day too.

Most time’s during the day.

They can’t get enough of one another.

And Tony is more than happy to deal out just as much as he receives, always kissing Stephen’s hands first and working his way up his arms to his mouth so Stephen knows Tony loves those scars just as much as the man who wears them.

But today, after the kids have gone to school, Stephen can’t help but become distracted.

Today is the anniversary of when the Ancient One left the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme, this Sanctum and all its secrets, to Stephen Strange.

He’s guilt ridden at not being able to save her from that portal that swallowed her up, distracted and angry that he knew so little of his magic back then.

Tony misses her too, for without her, he would never have met Stephen in the first place.

Tony knows he is Stephen’s anchor, every year on this day.

And without Tony, Stephen knows he would have drifted a long time ago.

They get regular visits from Shield agents, just checking in to make sure their little family doesn’t want to rejoin the Avengers, but Tony’s made his decision to leave all that behind and he’s not changing his mind.

However, some of these agents actually work for Hydra, and when Sitwell comes knocking one day, he knows they all have to be crossed off the list.

And exactly how to do it.

That night, a woman looking exactly like his old teacher comes to the Sanctum.

While Tony is a little skeptical about her sudden appearance, and his kids seem to be too, Stephen has gotten out of the slump he’d been in for so long, so Tony decides to take this as a win.

But when everyone’s getting ready for bed, Tony lets himself into her room to warn her.

If she isn’t who she claims to be, and Stephen gets hurt because of it, there won’t be any cave, crevice or crack she can squirm her way into that Tony won’t find.

And once he’s found her, he’ll make sure she’s never found again.

Then he wishes her goodnight and closes the door behind him.

It’s a little rocky at the beginning when Stephen keeps asking questions she doesn’t have the answers to, even agent Sitwell doesn’t have anything satisfactory to say about where she’s been all this time.

But Sitwell can’t let them throw this ‘Ancient One’ out.

She’s a Winter Soldier.

One trained to adapt to its surroundings and gather intel on its targets before killing them.

So he tells them to give her some time to adjust. Maybe after a couple of days or so, she’ll fit right in.

But by the very next day, everyone in the Sanctum isn’t so sure this woman is their old friend.

The cloak of Levitation and Wong both seem to be confused as to why her memory is so incomplete.

Surely something would have come back by now?

Even if she can’t remember who they are, she only ever drunk one kind of tea.

Even if she can’t remember all of her training, surely she must remember some of it

But no.

There’s nothing.

Stephen even gives her a sling ring to make a portal with and she doesn’t know what to do with it.

He has half a mind to do what she did to him to make her create one, but he’s too upset to think straight.

He has to come to terms with the knowledge that it might not be his old teacher after all.

Sitwell tries to change his mind, twenty years is a long time to be trapped wherever she was, but Stephen isn’t having it.

That woman is an imposter and he won’t have her in this Sanctum.

Even though she doesn’t feel as welcome as she had been in the beginning, she finds that the kids have really warmed up to her.

They had been brought up on stories about her, and had always refered to her as their aunt.

And she’s never been called aunt before.

But she has a mission.

But she doesn’t want to harm them. Seeing them all, the love that they have for one another (excessive in Stephen and Tony’s case) is unlike anything she’s ever seen before.

And, while she may not remember them completely, she knows their faces, knows they had something to do with her past, and wants to stay to uncover that truth about herself.

She begins drinking the tea she loved.

She begins paying more attention to what she can remember.

And when Stephen hands her a sling ring one last time before he makes his decision, she makes a portal to the very mountain she left him stranded on.

Stephen can’t believe it.

It’s actually her.

So he decides to invite everyone who knew her, everyone who has missed her just as much as he had, to a party at the Sanctum.

But before the big night, Sitwell has had enough of the delay.

He doesn’t know why she hasn’t killed them all yet.

She tells him it’s not time yet, but Sitwell has lost all patience with her.

If she won’t kill them, then he has to move them somewhere where they can be killed easier.

And he knows just how to do it.

This Sanctum would come in very handy training Sorcerers for Hydra, and seeming how he has the Ancient One, the one who rightfully owns this Sanctum, he can move this family of freaks out and deal with them later.

But wrath hath no fury like a Tony scorned, who’s heard everything Sitwell just said.

He’s not going to allow his husband to go through that horrible depression again, and he’s not going to allow his children to live anywhere else but where they’ve called home all their lives.

So he calls Sitwell out on this bs, and Sitwell orders the Ancient One to open a portal.

She doesn’t want to.

She likes living here with this family, but her hands move on their own and they all step through to the Hydra base.

And the cloak sees this and immediately goes to get Stephen.

But the cloak has no idea how to relay this information to him, having no hands to sign and only managing to grab a photo of the family and point erratically to Tony.

Stephen has no clue what it’s trying to say until it takes up his sling ring and begin tapping morse code on the bedside table.

Throwing the cloak over his shoulders, he goes to save his damsel, who is strapped to the very chair where Hydra erase the memories of their Winter Soldiers.

He takes a step to him immediately and freezes when Sitwell emerges from the shadows, pointing a gun at Tony.

He’s going to turn them both into Winter Soldiers to serve Hydra, and then do the same to their kids.

Then he orders the Ancient One to strap Stephen down.

Stephen requests a moment to talk with Tony and Sitwell agrees although he quickly ends it when it becomes disturbingly sexual.

The Ancient One takes Stephen to the next chair, but then notices the cloak.

And takes it from him.

Sitting Stephen down in the chair, she offers him a reassuring smile and sends the cloak at Sitwell, which wraps around him tightly.

Stephen runs to Tony to free him, almost wanting to leave Tony tied up like this, and they get back home safely.

A moment later, the cloak and the Ancient One walk into the Sanctum, quite pleased with how they banished Sitwell to the Dark Dimension.

The day after the party, as Stephen and Tony listen to the explosions almost rocking the Sanctum as if it were classical music, Tony has some good news.

Their adoption papers have finally come through.

They can add a new addition to their family.

Stephen would adopt every single child in the cosmos if it made Tony happy, and Tony expects Stephen to hold that promise.

One child at a time, of course.

Quotes -

“Last night, you were unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me...do it again.”

You all know I’m only doing this movie for this quote right here!

“Don’t torture yourself, Gomez. That’s my job.”

Shouldn’t it be They’re kinky and they’re kooky?

“Tish. How long has it been since we’ve waltzed?”

“Hours.”

Tony takes pride in the fact that he and Stephen can waltz anywhere at anytime and they’d both be up for it.

“Morticia. Morticia...what? Slow down! It’s terrible when you stutter! Morticia. In. Danger. Stop. Send. Help. At once. Stop!”

Stephen finally understands what his cloak is trying to tell him.

“Tish. Seeing you like this...my blood boils.”

“As does mine.”

“This wheel of pain...”

“Our wheel.”

“To live without you only that would be torture.”

“A day alone. Only that would be death.”

“Knock it off!”

Your resolved-borderline-obsessed sexual tension is making Sitwell uncomfortable!

“Leather straps...red hot pokers...”

“Later, my dearest.”

Stephen fights against his urges when he sees Tony tied up.

Ancient Lies

Stephen has everything.

A loving husband, two wonderful children, a life where they don’t need to worry about missions and intergalactic threats anymore.

But for as complete as his life, someone is missing from it.

And then she turns up.

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

[marvelyningreen]

Aftershocks - Night 2

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | (deleted scene)

[Summary: Peter Maximoff is an unflappable sorta guy. He’d never let anything get to him before, and this recent misadventure will be no different. ...Right?

Warnings: mild language, alcohol use, references to injury & false imprisonment, general trauma-related angst

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the established relationship variety. A ‘what if Fietro really was Peter?’ scenario. Same continuity/reader character from Linger and Late-bloomer. ]

On the second night, Kurt and Jubilee organize a party. It’s sort of a ‘welcome back’ for Peter, and a ‘welcome in general’ for Wanda and the twins.

It’s awfully sweet of them. And you’re impressed that they’ve managed to order in enough food for everyone on such short notice.

Peter had been busy for most of the day. He’d volunteered to help the professor and continue playing tour guide for Wanda and the kids. You’d offered to help, too, but Peter insisted that you should take it easy. He’s probably right, much as you’d hated to admit it. There’s no way you could’ve kept up with him and two energetic kids.

And that’s how you ended up spending the most of the morning in the lab with Hank.

In true Hank fashion, he had tons of questions, and you did your best to answer them. There are still quite a few things you don’t fully understand yourself.

The revelation that other realities exist is wild to begin with. A world where mutants don’t exist but magic does sounds like a work of fiction. And then there’s the fact that Wanda’s from someplace called ‘Sokovia?’ As far as you and Hank could figure, that country has never existed in your world.

Hank’s scientific curiosity was focused on trying to wrap his head around how Wanda’s powers worked, and how they could’ve caused Captain Rambeau to spontaneously develop powers of her own. You weren’t able to be much help there, but once Hank gets himself hypothesizing, he could talk for hours with no input from anyone else.

Eventually, you brought up your concerns about Peter and his odd lapses in memory. Hank’s brows furrowed pensively as he listened.

“Well, I can tell you there’s nothing physically wrong with Peter,” he said. “I could ask him to let me examine him again, but if the issue isn’t a physical one, that might just make things worse. If you’re really worried about him, my advice is to talk to Charles.”

You sighed. “And he’s busy showing Wanda around.”

Which was exactly where Peter would be, so no chance to talk to the professor without him noticing. Hank stood up, patting your shoulder.

“Listen, I know I’m not great company when I’m focused on work,” he said, “But you’re welcome to stay here while you wait.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

You’d actually spent a lot of time down in the lab since your reality warping abilities had fully manifested. Hank was fascinated by getting to witness them in person, and the fact that you’d used them to save his life probably had something to do with it.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching out your injured leg a little. It didn’t take Hank long to get so immersed in his work that he started thinking aloud to himself, trying to work out some complicated chemical reaction.

Your thoughts drifted back to Peter. He’d seemed distracted that morning, almost distant. You tried to think what caused it – if something had happened, or even if there was something you’d said…? But you couldn’t think of anything.

Maybe it’d had something to do with his dream. But no, he said he didn’t remember it. Maybe – and you were grasping at straws by this point – he was embarrassed that you’d seen it? That could be. Peter was a pretty open guy, and you hadn’t thought that machismo was one of his faults, but it’s a possibility.

Oh. Oh, damn it all – you’d done it again. You weren’t sure when your eyes had closed, or when you’d leaned your head back against the chair. Hank was still talking to himself-

Only no, he wasn’t. There was a second voice answering him now. Upon lifting your head, you noticed that Hank’s jacket was folded under it as a makeshift pillow. You blinked in the brightness of the lab, looking around to see where the conversation was coming from.

Hank and the professor broke off as they noticed you stirring. Hank smiled apologetically.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he explained. “You looked so tired. I figured you could use the rest.”

“Apparently I did. Sorry about that,” you said, sitting up straight in the chair again. “What time is it?”

“Just after noon,” said the professor. “We decided to break for lunch, so Peter’s showing them the kitchens. Now, Hank tells me that something’s troubling you.”

“It’s Peter, sir,” you said. You went over everything once more – the diminishing memories of Westview, the nightmare. “Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but… I don’t know. What if something that witch did is still affecting him?”

The professor had listened carefully while you spoke. You thought that he looked a little concerned, but you might’ve imagined it, because when you finished, he smiled.

“Thank you for coming to me with this,” he said, “But I have a feeling you’re not going to like my answer.”

You grimaced. “You’re going to tell me to wait and see, aren’t you.”

You’re well aware that this was the sort of thing the professor said when he was being evasive. He laughed.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said. “I will tell you that I truly believe Peter will be fine. If anything changes or worsens, don’t hesitate to bring it to my attention. But until that time, I’m leaving him in your care. I know I can rely on you.”

You gaze drifted to the floor, and you frowned slightly. Of course the professor could count on you to look after Peter. But how on earth were you supposed to help if you don’t know what’s going on?

If Peter had been physically hurt, that’s something you could fix. You were out of your depth here. Useless. Just like old times.

“None of that, if you please,” said the professor, in response to your thoughts. “Do you think I’d be leaving this in your hands if I didn’t think you were up to the task? Now, I’ve already told Peter that, as of today, he’s taking some mandatory time off, and the same goes for you. No missions for a while. You’re to get some rest and look after yourself. Understood?”

That surprised you. But before you could attempt to get anything more out of the professor, the door opened to admit Peter and the other Maximoffs. Peter’s face brightened as he caught sight of you.

“I figured you’d be down here,” he said. “And I also figured you probably didn’t eat lunch yet. Was I right? Yeah, I thought so. Which is why I brought lunch to you.”

“You know the rules,” Hank interrupted. “No food in the lab, Peter.”

Peter grinned, rolling his eyes, as he helped you to your feet.

“Alright, alright – we’re going,” he said.

Saying that you looked like you could use some daylight, Peter led you out of the lab to find somewhere to eat your lunch. He seemed cheerful and normal enough, and not, y’know, like he was avoiding you or something. You started to wonder if maybe you really were imagining things.

It was easy enough not to bring up the inconclusive conversation you’d had with the professor. The twins were bursting to tell somebody that there was going to be a party, and that it was gonna be their first party ever.

So far, it seems to be going well. The twins are already making friends among the younger students. Wanda still seems a little reserved – understandably – but the professor sticks close to her to make introductions and keep her company.

You’d like a chance to talk to her yourself, but maybe now isn’t the time. A party can be something of an overwhelming environment, especially now that you’ve been informed that you’re actually one of the guests of honor.

You probably should’ve seen this coming. You’re the one who took on a solo rescue mission, after all. Kurt sheepishly admits that they purposefully hadn’t told you that part because they figured you wouldn’t come if you knew. He is correct.

But Peter’s in his element as the life of the party – and he’s tipsy almost instantly. It’s one of the quirks of his mutant metabolism; alcohol hits him fast. Fortunately, drunk Peter is just an amped-up version of his usual cheerful and chaotic personality. You’re not much of a partier, yourself, so you’re content to enjoy his antics from the sidelines.

Which is what you’re doing when Jubilee sidles up to you.

“Okay, you have to tell me everything,” she says. “I mean, getting to go to another reality? What was it like?”

You laugh. “You’ve gotta be the fifth person to ask me that. Peter was there longer than I was.”

“But Peter doesn’t remember any of it,” she says, “And it’d be rude to ask Wanda a bunch of questions when we’ve only just met, so that leaves you. Now, spill.”

You satisfy Jubilee’s curiosity as best you can, but something she said strikes you as strange. Peter doesn’t remember anything about Westview? That doesn’t seem right.

When Captain Rambeau broke that mind control necklace, Peter didn’t seem confused or anything, just… Well, if you had to describe it, you’d say he looked horrified. And after he made sure that you were okay, the first thing he’d said was that the twins might still be in danger and that you all had to help them.

Then again, he’d let Wanda do all the explaining to the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr. And you’d gotten the rundown from that astrophysicist, Dr. Lewis, after she finished grumbling about being the exposition fairy, whatever that meant.

And Peter lives for being the center of attention. Overlooked and underappreciated for much of his life, a party like this is exactly the sort of validation he craves. If there was a chance for him to tell his story to a rapt audience, he’d jump at it.

So… maybe Peter really doesn’t remember anything. Maybe the whole thing is like a dream for him. The further away from it that he gets, the less clear the memory is.

When the party starts to wind down, the same can’t be said for Peter. Just as you’re trying to work out how on earth you’re going to corral him, Logan catches your eye.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get him,” he says.

You grin. “I thought you said that he’s my problem now.”

“He is. But that knee’s not gonna help you carry his ass upstairs.” Logan drains the last of his drink and calls across the room. “Alright, kid! Time to pack it in!”

Peter waves, takes an unsteady step towards you, and manages to run smack into Logan a split second later. Logan shoots you an exasperated look.

“What’d I tell you?” he says.

Logan manages to keep Peter upright as you head upstairs, but keeping him quiet is another thing entirely. Peter spends the entire walk explaining to Logan – in fumbling but earnest detail – all the ways in which you are the most amazing person he has ever met.

When Logan gets a word in edgewise, it’s to inform you that Peter’s been doing this all evening to anybody who would listen, and even to the people who wouldn’t. You’re honestly not sure if you feel more flattered or mortified.

At long last, you reach Peter’s door, and Logan props him up against the doorframe.

“Alright, he’s officially your problem again,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, old-timer!” Peter calls, waving off your attempts to shush him. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

He opens the door and nearly tumbles back into the room. He catches himself, clearing his throat as he straightens up.

“I meant to do that,” he says.

You shake your head, trying to bit back a grin. Once the door is closed behind you, you steer Peter towards the bed and sit him down. He takes hold of your hands.

“Listen. Listen. I have to tell you something.” He struggles to turn his bleary expression serious. “I love you, so much. You just… I love you, okay?”

Is it wrong that you find this slurred profession of love incredibly heartwarming? You smile at Peter, leaning down to kiss him.

“I know,” you say softly. “I love you, too. But you gotta get some sleep now, okay?”

Peter nods, frowning slightly for some reason.

“I know, I know,” he says.

He flops back onto the bed, mumbling something that might be lyrics to a song. And by the time you get his shoes off, he’s conked out completely.

After setting Peter’s shoes aside, you sit down on the sofa again. You know he’s fine. Sure, he’s drunk, but he’s not that drunk. But what if he needs something? Or what if he has another nightmare?

You know you shouldn’t dwell on everything, but once you start thinking about it, you find you can’t stop. You wonder what it was like for Peter, being dragged from this reality into another, having his personality forcibly rewritten.

If your experience had been unpleasant, how much worse must it have been for him?

The second you’d stepped into Westview, you were nearly overwhelmed. Some unknown power seemed to be forcing a name – not your own – onto you like a shackle around your neck. A thousand memories of a life you hadn’t lived flooded your mind. More alarming still, Peter was present in many of them. You had no idea if what you were seeing was the past, or the future, or something else entirely.

And underneath it all was a crushing, all-encompassing feeling of utter despair. It threatened to swallow you whole, and it seemed pointless to fight it.

And then – a calm, familiar presence in your mind. You remembered turning back, seeing the professor’s face as he watched you enter the portal. Suddenly, the onslaught lifted, and you were simply yourself again.

Also, you’d apparently collapsed at some point, because you were laying on the pavement with a tall blond stranger leaning over you.

He was the only person who seemed at all concerned that you’d just fainted in the middle of the street. He said his name was Vision. You introduced yourself as Ace. It was close enough to your codename that you’d remember it, and the professor had cautioned you against saying too much about where you’d come from.

But Vision seemed to recognize that there was something different about you, that you’d come from outside Westview. He was worried about his children, and his wife, and the rest of the citizens. You explained that you didn’t know what had happened to the town, and that you’d come looking for a missing friend.

You’d just agreed to try to help each other when reality seemed to bend around you, and suddenly you were sitting in a diner finishing a cup of coffee, and Vision was nowhere in sight.

The next time you saw him, the spell was ending, and he disappeared. You wish you could’ve gotten the chance to get to know him better. He seemed like a good man.

You try to put that from your mind. It’s just gonna make you sad again if you think about it for too long.

Instead, you glance over at Peter. He seems to be sleeping soundly, which is good.

But memories of Westview aren’t done with you yet.

You’ve had nightmares before about people you know acting in ways that were frighteningly unlike them. And even knowing it was all just a dream, you always felt a little uneasy the next time you’d see them. It’s the same way you feel watching Peter now.

That’s not fair; you know it isn’t. And maybe out of context, it’d sound strange to get worked up about it. But to have the person you love – the person who loves you – treat you with indifference, and get cruel enjoyment out of your pain?

That’s the stuff of nightmares.

Enough of that. You give your head a shake, like that’ll clear your thoughts somehow. It wasn’t Peter. It was the witch that was controlling him, forcing him to do all those things. You know this. It’s just lucky he hadn’t been forced to really hurt anyone.

It’s over, and Peter doesn’t remember what it was like, and that’s probably for the best.

Still, as you watch him sleep, you find yourself so badly wanting to hold him that it almost makes your chest ache. Peter hasn’t just been distant emotionally since Westview.

Since you’d started dating, Peter was a source of constant casual physical affection. Whenever you were together, he’d always have his arm around you, or be holding your hand, or sit close enough that his leg was pressed against yours. You hadn’t realized how much you’d gotten used to it – grown to expect it, even – until it’s suddenly absent.

Having be so withdrawn from you now, well… It hurts, if you’re being honest, especially since you don’t know why, and you don’t know how to help.

But there’s nothing you can do about it at this moment. And, since Peter doesn’t look to be having any more nightmares, it’s probably time for you to go. You ease yourself onto your feet, just now noticing how stiff your knee has gotten after standing around all evening at the party.

You limp as quietly as you can towards the door – and proceed to trip over Peter’s shoes.

You yelp in pain as your knee twists and you go crashing to the floor. You grit your teeth, trying not to swear.

And suddenly the lights are on in the room, and Peter’s kneeling beside you.

“What happened?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

That’s right. As fast as Peter gets drunk, he sobers up just as quickly. He looks present and alert at the moment, if a little worried.

“I tripped over the damn shoes,” you answer. “I’m fine, I think. I just-”

You break off, wincing, as you try to straighten out your leg. Damn it. Is it possible to double-sprain something? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Hang on,” says Peter. “Let me help.”

He doesn’t take your hands and help you stand up, like you’re expecting. Instead, he loops your arm around his shoulders and scoops you up bridal-style. The fact that he doesn’t use his superspeed almost disorients you more than if he had.

At a normal pace, he walks back and sets you down not on the sofa, but on his bed. He blurs for just a second, but that’s only to stack up his pillows to give you something to lean against.

As you gingerly straighten out your leg, Peter reaches out – to try to help, you suppose – then lets his hands fall in his lap.

“Thanks,” you say.

Peter frowns worriedly. “Can’t you do the…?”

He makes a gesture like he’s laying on hands or something, which confuses you for a second before you catch his meaning.

“Oh, I can’t do the healing stuff on myself,” you say. “Or at least I don’t know how yet. I gotta heal the old-fashioned way.”

You give him a wry smile. It could be worse, after all. You could’ve actually broken something. Peter doesn’t seem very reassured.

“I should get Hank,” he says.

“No, don’t!” you say as quickly as you can. “It’s not that bad. I’ll go to him in the morning, if I need to.”

No sense in dragging the poor man out of bed if it’s not an emergency. Unconvinced, Peter bites his lip.

“If you’re sure,” he says reluctantly, “But… Don’t move, okay? I’m gonna get you some ice.”

He’s gone. And then he’s back, holding a couple icepacks and a towel. You reach down to take the knee-brace off, but Peter swats your hands away. Why on earth-?

“Would you stop that?” he says, perching on the edge of the bed. “I’m trying to nurse you back to health here.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “Always the romantic.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why you like me.”

He’s not wrong. Peter flashes you a grin, and it’s so cheerful and unguarded and normal that it’s startling. This boy is gonna give you whiplash yet; you’re sure of it.

But then he looks down again to focus on the task at hand. He’s extraordinarily gentle as he undoes the brace and settles the icepacks on and around your knee. You want to turn his face towards you and kiss him, but you don’t. He must have some reason for keeping his distance.

As he’s finishing up, he finally speaks.

“I’m… I’m kinda afraid to ask, honestly, but how did you get hurt? It wasn’t- I mean,” Peter exhales forcefully, and hesitates before asking: “Was it me?”

His big, dark eyes meet yours, and the distress in his face nearly breaks your heart.

“What? No! Of course it wasn’t you,” you say.

Peter seems to relax a little, but still has that troubled look in his eyes. He really doesn’t remember, does he? You did get into a scuffle with him while he was still under mind control, and he had ended up knocking you down, but it hadn’t hurt you any more than tripping on the sidewalk would’ve. Also… this doesn’t seem like the right time to mention that part of the story. You hurry to explain.

“It was that witch – Agnes, or Agatha, or whatever her name is,” you say. “She couldn’t send me back, and she couldn’t get in my head, so she dumped me in the Westview Hospital psych ward.”

Peter’s jaw drops. “She what?”

“I mean, it wasn’t like a horror story hospital or anything,” you clarify. “It was actually a pretty nice place, aside from the fact that they wouldn’t let me leave because they thought I was dissociating and suffering from delusions. Which is exactly what what’s-her-name was counting on.”

Peter nods slowly, evidently more confused and no less concerned. “Okay… that explains where you were, but it doesn’t explain how you got hurt.”

“Oh, right. When I wasn’t able to talk my way out, I had to use my powers to get a window open. Only…” you wince at the memory. “My powers didn’t fully work in Westview, and the window was on the second floor. So when I jumped out of it, gravity did exactly what it’s supposed to do.”

Peter presses a hand to his mouth. Okay, this explanation is clearly making things worse.

“And then – okay, this isn’t funny, but it’s kinda funny. It was suddenly Halloween, so the streets were all covered in people and I had to hide, so I crawled into somebody’s hedges. Problem is, they spotted me and came over to see what was going on. So I told them,” you snort involuntarily just remembering it, “I told them that I was dressed up as a zombie, but it’s okay, I’m hiding in their hedge because I’m a method actor. And somehow, they bought it.”

You end your rambling with an awkward laugh, but it dies almost immediately. The anecdote didn’t mollify Peter even a little bit. Maybe you should’ve mentioned the part where you had to steal clothes off a scarecrow? … No, that probably wouldn’t have helped either.

Brows furrowed, eyes still troubled, he stares down at his hands. “You could’ve gone back. Why didn’t you go back?”

“Peter, I went to Westview to bring you home,” you say. “I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”

Although, now that he mentions it, going back for reinforcements probably would’ve been the smart thing to do. It honestly never occurred to you at the time. You were so focused on rescuing Peter that you couldn’t think of anything else.

For someone who allegedly doesn’t remember anything, Peter looks awfully distressed.

“Peter…?” you say, softly, “Are you alright?”

Before he can answer, you shiver violently, startling yourself as much as Peter, and completely breaking the moment.

“Sorry,” you say. “It’s the icepacks. I should probably get going soon, since I’m already cold.”

Peter blinks, and suddenly the shadow seems to lift from his mood. He’s bright and brisk again, taking the icepacks off of your knee.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “You’re not gonna go limping around in the cold in the middle of the night. You’ll end up getting sick on top of everything. You can stay here. No, don’t get up. I’ll crash on the couch this time.”

He’s really taking this ‘nurse you back to health’ thing seriously, isn’t he? Even if he’s just playing at it, it’s still kinda sweet. You can’t help but smile a little.

“How very Jane Austen of you,” you say.

Peter snorts. “That’s gotta be the nerdiest compliment anyone’s ever given me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As he finishes setting aside the icepacks, he turns back to face you.

“Now,” he says, “Is there anything else you need?”

Half-smiling, he looks at you with those big dark eyes, and you can’t help yourself. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a crushing embrace. You know it might make you look clingy, but you don’t care.

You’re fully prepared to pull away just as fast, but Peter’s arms fold around you almost instantly. He nestles his cheek against your head, gently stroking your hair.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

When you finally do pull back, Peter smiles down at you, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m not going anywhere, alright?” he says. “I promise.”

He kisses your forehead, and helps you arrange the pillows and settle in for the night. After extracting a promise that you’ll wake him up if you need something, he retreats to the couch.

The familiar scent of Peter’s cologne lingers reassuringly on his pillows. He’s not going anywhere, you tell yourself. The person who took him is in no position to cause him any more harm.

So why does it feel like part of him is still gone?

[feuqueerfire]

Not Me Live Blogging - Episodes 6 - 10

Previously: Episodes 1 - 5

Rewarding myself for doing 30 minutes of schoolwork with these ~13 minute parts lmao the ratio of work : Not Me is 2:1.

Episode 6 (Mar 18, 2022)

6-1

Sitting here unable to determine whether this is real fr or one of Gumpa's trainings

Woah, Sean's "Don't hurt my friend!" So White immediately comes over when he realizes Sean's in danger and Sean defending him... interesting

Okay but why would White spill, like just say fake shit... like there's one more guy who orders us around, we don't know anything about him, or two more people and one of them's a girl and here's this fake name or literally anything that's not the truth but not so fake that, if the people were like okay call them, they wouldn't be just able to call someone from the gang or smth

Anyway, as soon as he said it and I heard someone say dang it, Black or whatever, I took a 30 minute break from watching lol. Nothing hurts more than watching friends' betrayal. I wonder how this'll affect their gang dynamics. Would the old Black have done this? White said he'd leave Sean for dead in a real life situation but instead he betrayed others for him, kind of? Ack, I wanna know but I don't wanna actually watch it.

Holy shit White's "I did it just to save you. Your life is worth more than you think!" with tears down his cheeks

So like everybody's extremely suspicious now, right? They don't quite trust Black anymore? Also, I do wonder if White's wrong that Black never spoke about having a twin; it's not like he knows his brother well

You could not pay me enough to be in that room right now with all this tenseness

"You don't see like the same person. The Black I used to know." Dude, will they figure it out by the end of this ep? I'd be pleasantly surprised if at least one person for sure does, even if they keep the secret

Drunk Sean cute >.<

Intense conversation about how much you want your frenemy to live... thoroughly enjoyed it

Edit after watching the episode: There's this comment on r/boyslove discussion of episode 6 that gives more context about White's crossing road analogy. Wild that the episode was released on the same day something like that was being discussed.

6-2

The intense acting for Sean is quite good; a good portrayal of anger and anguish without it being too over the top or stilted

White witnessing Sean's nightmares and then Sean seeking to cuddle/hide against him is so intimate and something that can cause me so much damage. Not to mention that seeing him in this state of vulnerability is a secret White's keeping for him.

Followed by bickering in the morning, exactly, so true

Dang, the friends are so chill with each other now. Did you guys discuss what the actual procedure would be if somebody got caught fr?

6-3

Is this fingerprint thing gonna come to haunt Sean

Sean wearing the mask really makes you notice the ruthless eyes

Y'know, I wonder if they could've gotten away with just regular blue masks this time, like White grabbed a lab coat or whatever anyway, might've just had the mask to complete the outfit and you could maybe get away with not being suspicious while wearing that

"Can't you give me a little encouragement?" ngl, hearing this surprised me in this situation. woahh vulnerability

No truly, Sean vulnerable near White is sooo good to me

Dude, this Yok and Gram talking about their love lives (or rather just crushes/feelings) while waiting to cause extreme chaos is suchhh a good scene.

Also, I know Gram said Yok doesn't know who Gram has a crush on but I'm assuming that's because Gram doesn't wanna be interrogated and it is, in fact, Black. C'mon, please, his whole spiel lined up with it being Black. Or maybe he's talking about Eugene lmfao

Although, as an aside, Gram/Yok have so much chemistry too? Maybe they can have a little fling, a little smooch, before they end up with their main ships

I've been focusing more on the characters and their relationships because that's generally my favourite part of shows, so I guess I should talk a bit about the plot as well. I think this is a poorly thought out plan on Sean's part because customers won't necessarily uniformly boycott Tawi's products. I assume they'll be upset because Tawi should've tighter control, better quality assurance (and I mean... they still could. After all this fiasco, Tawi's company could ensure the quality of everything and find out that there's bitterness) but if it becomes public knowledge that someone sabotaged the drinks, wouldn't it gain Tawi sympathy as well? Like oh, I guess people are trying to tear him down. If we know anything from seeing how people react to Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, etc, it's that people can have overflowing empathy for them lmfao. Anyway, who knows if White'll even follow through since he's been so against the whole thing.

6-4

There is something seriously wrong with Yok, bless him

White, what are you planning...

Sean, delete the CCTV footage before you go T.T

What does it say on the door? Some sort of exit?

Woah, what an intense, somewhat surreal ending. We know Sean's upset with him and I was anticipating a confrontation, maybe some tussling, but not full on hit him on the head with the helmet + strangulation, holy shit. Off and Gun both did great in that scene

I fully get Sean's anger though, like we did alllll of this and risked everything and you backed out? I wonder what White did with the identical container + the photos ?? And why isn't he saying why he'd independently changed the plans?

I've mentioned the gradual vulnerability between the two but Sean and White have also clashed at every moment, even amongst the vulnerability, and I'm hooked by that too. I wanna see how they'll overcome it

White I wanna know what you did !!! My only guess right now is that he's taking proof pictures to show that if we wanted, we COULD have poisoned you or done who knows what because Tawi's company is shit at what they do and they don't care about customers? But again, who's to say it wouldn't have been checked after all this commotion to ensure that the product wasn't tempered with?

lmfao White's been through so much, I wonder if Black's feeling the effects of being beat the shit out of while in his coma

Next is episode 7, is that the one where there's some pride stuff? I've seen some gifs of it and seen it referred to as Under The Flag scene. I'll look forward to it.

I think thus far, the show has done a remarkably good job of making you care about all the characters and their little offshoot relationships with each other.

Also, people said the romance is extremely slow in this, which is true for Dak/Yok and Gram/Black (if this one happens) but there are so many Sean/White moments? They had and continue to have a tumultuous relationship, White is hiding who he really is, they're very slowing becoming more vulnerable to each other and we also get like the bed-sharing scenes; personally, I'm satisfied with the pace so far. I'm waiting Gram/Black to happen but who knows when Black'll wake up, so the slowness of that makes sense. The Dan/Yok part I do wish was a bit quicker but that's mostly because I want to know what everybody loves about them because they're like a small blip on my radar; I like Gram/Nuch better than them and they're exes.

Episode 7 (Mar 18, 2022)

7-1

The first scene continues to be intense and finally White revealed his plan. What he said was all true and we the audience are supposed to have seen the flaws in Sean's plan but I love a blinded-by-rage consumed-by-need-for-revenge character, so I get Sean's reaction as well

Me watching Gram checking up on White knowing GramBlack isn't gonna happen: ;-;

Yok's wild fr I know I say this every episode but him just joking about how they can land sooo many years in prison + teasing about how Sean's plan sucked

Holy shit, okay this actually just got a few times more interesting. Thus far, stuff has been fairly surface level with some ideological butting heads with gang vs White but now, Yok and his mom's disagreement is actually interesting. Yok wants to promote disabled people's rights but his actions have direct negative impact on his mom's work. His mother disapproves of what he's doing (though she doesn't know it). We get to see how the gang's actions have affected ordinary people, even when White tried to minimize the damage

7-2

Why are they wearing the same masks as when they go commit crimes and Gram being like "Black, we did it!" in this crowd alkjdf esp when they were throwing out names in the factory, too T.T Be careful, kids

and then them taking off his damn mask as well while everybody else is masked up, oh brother

This show/White focuses so little on actually following up with what happened to Black that only hearing Eugene talking about Black being like "I can be killed any moment" reminded me that White's whole reason for being here is to find out what happened to him

I want Black to wake up because I wanna see how Gun pulls it off

Damn wtf Eugene said she kissed Gram but actually Gram gave her a sleezy ass kiss while she's drunk and crying over a break up/worrying about Black. Agh you take GramBlack from me for This?!

Seeing Eugene cry so much is so </3 Hope she gets a happy ending, whether it be with Black after he comes back or with somebody else or single, and that we get to see her show up with her dance

7-3

This episode is just so fucking queer, it's great

I dunno what I want to happen with Gram like I was like Gram/Nuch! but then Gram/Black! and now Gram/Nuch's interaction was great again as always and I want them to get back together aghhh I wonder if they're angling for Gram/Eugene because that's the most boring of them all

I wish it wasn't the case but it's so rare to feel actual queerness in BL, especially one filled with so much pride for it. We had Bad Buddy, which was queer and saw positivity in queerness, and things like Semantic Error where the queerness is normalized enough to be unremarkable, and I very much enjoyed both but this one is like making a statement about queerness and I'm deeply enjoying this too. I wish I could go to a queer event.

Woahh okay DanYok finally and I really enjoyed this little capture. I wasn't as captivated by their very few interactions like others were but I can definitely get on board

7-4

Yok's "Police! I'm being kidnapped!" and "Let's have a fist fight if you dare." are so funny, love him. Also wonder if all this is making him rethink his choice of crush or if all this manhandling is doing something for him

"If you want it back, search for it, officer" Oh my bad for asking too soon, seems like it's doing something for him

his cheeky "go for it" expression when Dan starts searching with his bag

"Where could it be? Should I take my pants off?" Okay, it's 100% doing something for him, my mans is fully deranged, good for him

ACAB, so true Yok; i mean, you still fell for him though so

Umm this caressing ?! Feels so suddenl, dude, we're gonna find you someone better, there are so many people out there. For example, let's think back to the moments you had with Gram

Hello, Yok you already drew Dan and his titties once in art class. Though I guess he didn't draw his full face then

Personally, I find Yok more endearing and a better actor, so I wish Dan was giving me a little more to work with but still, I'll admit they have explosive chemistry. I had to hide my smile in my sleeve while watching cuz I'm in the living room.

Ayo, this ending SeanWhite scene. The way the door closed made it seem so suggestive lol

I guess they'll speak about what actually happened and Sean will apologize. Sean and White were very friendly in the under the flag scene, which feels maybe a little too quick but I read some people saying that mostly came from relief and euphoria of such an event and I think I agree. Sean realized throughout the episode that his plan wouldn't have worked and even what they did now has had unintended repercussions (Yok's mom losing her job) but conveying that to White in that public, happy setting wasn't the time for it. I'm excited to see how their conversation goes and how they progress.

I wonder if there's something about episode 7s that just speak to me. My favourite Bad Buddy and Semantic Error episodes are episode 7. I don't know if this is my favourite Not Me episode so far (I don't think I have a distinct favourite yet, the episodes kinda blur together and more than episodes, in my head it's just one long story thread) but it's so good and impactful!

Anyway, half way through! This show takes up so much of my daily time, whether it be because I'm watching it or reading the r/boys_love threads on it or going through Tumblr posts for the last episode that I watched.

I have to be at the library for several hours tomorrow and I know I should just try to focus on work, so... I'll attempt.

Episode 8 (Mar 19, 2022)

8-1

I've been looking forward to them talking it out. The apology was chiller and friendlier than I kind of wanted (like Sean fucking hit his head with a metal helmet + severely choked him) but I guess they both knew where they stood due to the eye contact + under the flag hand holding.

As expected, Sean's dad was the one in the drug dealer case he mentioned.

I wanna know how their relationship will overcome Sean finding out White's not Black. Like he thinks the person he's spilling his guts out to right now (White) is the same guy (Black) who he gave him a purpose/direction after his parents' death and loss of everything. How will he reconcile with the fact that they're not the same, he's been lied to, and who does he even like? Ahh I hope they handle this in an interesting and nuanced manner

8-2

Umm this caressing ?! Feels so sudden lol I thought Sean was just gonna check if White's awake and then maybe do some sleuthing or something?

What is going on am I dreaming? Actually, maybe one of them is dreaming because are SeanWhite at a position for Sean to be actually doing this?

Hm, I guess Sean considers them to be - especially since he told so many secrets to White last night, maybe he feels he can caress and tease him

I knew there was some art scene were one character painted/drew the other naked but in my head it was some emotional connection between an established relationship. Come to learn it's Yok being deranged about Dan, yet being thoughtful for his art project

"My intention is nothing more than just drawing" he says with this cheeky grin

Yok is so kljdf charming truly

As a lover of characters being vulnerable, woah. My heart ached for Dan in that moment

Also, um terrible thought but what if Dan's the reason Sean's father was killed? Dan talks about doing something bad and being unable to reclaim justice for it and I'm assuming we'll learn more about it later and hm maybe?

Oh nooo, Yok is so tender T.T I love tenderness so much

I am falling more and more into DanYok despite being ambivalent about them in the beginning. I know as of episode 13 they're broken up and I'm curious to know why

So Sean is sleuthing, even if it wasn't with malicious intentions at the start - just slightly nosy. Eek, I wanna know if he finds out about the Black/White thing this episode

8.3

lmfao ?! okay first um Gun looks very um good all tied up and squirmy ummmm and he had those shorts on so that we could see his thighs wow nice thanks Gun ='_'= <- this is blushing not whiskers.

I want more of Sean's reactions and thought process right now!!! Clearly he's found something out and is taking precautions against something by tying White/Black up but he's still so playful while taunting White about being tied up

Woah, would Sean come back to find Todd? What if Black and Todd had had a fallout and Sean knows about it?

Girl wtf is this Gram - Eugene - Black thing. I hope Eugene finds a nice partner who's not either of these two (unless the real Black actually does love her a lot, in which case maybe but I don't like Gram/Eugene at all like Eugene doesn't seem to like him at all + I hated that he kissed her while she was drunk and heartbroken and worried)

Woah the Sean - Tawi bathroom. I don't even know what to think about Sean's behaviour. I think his grief and anger make him do stupid things because now Tawi knows of him and his vendetta, that Sean has a reason to want Tawi to fail. On the other hand, he's a 20 something year old who's lost everything and has so many unprocessed emotions, so my heart goes out to him

8-4

I like Namo, she's so pretty and cool

I cannot comprehend Sean and White's relationship. So the tying up thing was just a friendly taunting teasing thing? Unless Sean has found something out but is still like okay, interesting, I'll keep it to myself which... does that align with what we know about him so far? hmm

Sean saying "They're not very skilled at spying. You're the right one." O.O okay, so maybe he does know and choosing not to reveal

Watching Thai shows just make me miss being able to go on roofs

I keep saying Yok is deranged but Sean is truly fucked up, who does a trust fall like that ?!

holy shit ?! the kiss??

First of all, Sean taking White out to an abandoned building to spy on a drug warehouse as a romantic getaway. This show is so good about these unhinged romantic scenarios

Okay, I am so thoroughly confused about how to feel. I couldn't fully grasp what Sean thought of White in this episode because I was unsure about how much Sean knew/figured out. I couldn't fully grasp White's thoughts toward Sean in this episode because he tied him up and left him, so what even? But they act so friendly and tenderly as well and then that kiss! Sean falling for Black not knowing it's White vs Sean having maybe figured out that it's not Black. Both could result in interesting storylines.

Great episode, as always, though slightly weaker when it comes to consistency in SeanWhite's relationship

I don't know why but I feel like this is one of those episodes that'll be even better on a rewatch. The very beginning of the episode through me off, so the whole episode I was waiting for maybe Sean to realize Black's not Black and couldn't fully appreciate the character development and relationship dynamics we got. Since I now know what to expect, I kinda wanna rewatch to soak it all in. Not now, though, I don't have time to rewatch now - I need to know what happens next, but like after we're done with the series next week.

Oh yeah, this is the rooftop scene people were talking about. I remember hearing something about a rooftop kiss while it was airing.

Also, I did rewatch the last few minutes of the episode with a different mindset than before and it did get to me more, I enjoyed it a lot

Read a spoiler that in the book, Sean knows Black and White as children... -_- I hate being spoiled, I wish they'd spoiler tag novel spoilers. Oh well, I guess it's my fault for reading every comment on the On-Air r/boys_love thread but I love reading other people's thoughts and analysis too much to give it up, especially when I'm enjoying the show. Anyway, if that's still the case in the show, it gives more ground to my guess that Sean knows White isn't Black. I wish I was in his head, wanna examine his little thoughts lol

Episode 9 (Mar 19, 2022)

9-1

I forgot they were gonna have to sleep in this little camp tent together !!

Straight for the ear and the piercings lsakf this show is so ?!

Holy shit White explicitly saying he likes what Sean's doing, my heart skipped a beat

Why does this feel so tender and loving T.T SeanWhite truly arrow straight to the heart

aksfjk;sdlf oh my gosh, White straight up asking would you be okay if I'm not Black? Bold as hell, reminds me of Pran asking Ink in Bad Buddy episode 4 if she likes Pat

White's tears T.T

Fucking ripping a button from your lover's shirt the first time you sleep together to keep as a momento... this show is making my brain melt out of my ears, it has me physically shivering fucking hell

lmfao not Black waking up because of his brother's intense emotions during sex (with Black's frenemy he has beef with nonetheless), that's so fucked up

White almost revealing his identity so many times to Sean and Sean just gently asking him about what's bothering him T.T I get it though, how do you even say like I know we just kissed and you've been under the impression that I'm a whole different person this entire time but I would just like to say that I'm his twin, please continue liking me and thinking that I'm hot <3

Like it's such a fragile thing, I get not wanting to disturb this budding relationship but also the deeper you get, the worse the fallout

This is of course ignoring the fact that I think Sean is aware that White isn't Black but White doesn't know that

Yok is soooo charming, his smile and his demeaner are very endearing and cheeky. I like him a lot

9-2

Man, Yok sure knows how to choose them. An NFT-seller cop who's also a murderer. I have no sympathy for him, I want Yok to get with someone else man, fuck but I know I'm super weak to any interactions Yok has with anybody, agh. This is how police propaganda works :D Even the murderer police officers deserve love, am I write? Agh, I wish Not Me of all shows didn't go through this route.

White waking Sean up with the sweetest kisses :< and them going on a walk together :< and still retaining all their teasing and some roughhousing but soft :<

9-3

A car ad in the middle of a chase scene

A promise sealed with a kiss and blood from that kiss, Yok is so deranged I love him

Wait, what? Were Sean and Namo dating or something? If yes, then Sean's a dick. If no, why does she care, can't I except Not Me to not give me an unreasonable female character? I like Namo soo much, I'll be so mad if they ruin her

Okay, she took the rejection really well. Good for her. If Not Me loved me, we'd get some Eugene/Namo but I don't think they love me so

Bro, give Gram some other story that's not just staring at Eugene

Aside but Eugene is soooo pretty

Finallyyyyyy I've been waiting for Black to show up for so long and every minute this episode I've been on the edge of my seat, looking for him

I was really curious how they'd do all this: have Gun have two characters, and have them meeting each other and have them meeting other people

Gun playing two characters: The editing is fairly good at making it seem like two seperate people and so is Gun. Black and White are the same but different. For a minute there, when he first revealed his face, Black reminded me a bit of Bright (2gether) lol. I'm curious to see how they'll continue with the editing and acting when Black and White have to be in a scene together with other people as well

Meeting each other: As emotionally charged as I'd hoped. We got both the tears and the hug while also getting Black slapping White. It was great, I enjoyed it, can't wait to see their sibling relationship continue on. The way one of them treats the other is also different and I enjoyed it. The way Black took back his piercings away from White made me feel something, even if I can't verbalize it. (r/boys_love episode 9 on-air thread has some interesting points about this, about how Black is taking back his life and how that might affect White)

Veeery curious to see how they'll handle Black actually meeting other people and Black/White in same scenes.

As we know, Todd's evil (or maybe Black's evil? That'd be fun [and heartbreaking for White], even though I don't know how they'd pull that off story-wise)

I loved this episode so much (except the Dan part... I can't believe we're supposed to sympathize with him aghhh seeing people just be like well, obviously he feels bad is so :/ like idk it would be different if it was a different show, maybe, but with the focus on Not Me being injustice, I hope it's endgame Dan/prison. Although, him alone going to prison isn't gonna do anything either because there are so many people involved in covering it up)

I started with a compliment but derailed lmfao lemme start again:

SeanWhite and Yok are incredible, I love them all. SeanWhite's tenderness is so good and the love scene was so tender and good without being awkward or evasive. I enjoyed finally getting to meet Black and I'm very much looking forward to more of him.

Edit: in the On-Air thread for this, someone said Sean doesn't call White by name (Black) anymore after finding his glasses/contacts in episode 8. I'll try to notice this on my rewatch later

Episode 10 (Mar 20, 2022)

10-1

I didn't finish reading all the comments on the On-Air thread and I didn't look at the ep 9 Tumblr posts, I just wanna know what happens next so here I am, at 9 am, the day before I have a test and two days before I have a big project due, waiting to see how it all unravels. Also, episode 14 is gonna be released in like 40 minutes, hoping I don't get spoiled !

I'm just so excited that Black's finally here !!

Woah Black's gonna pretend to be White to go see Todd? Wait this is episode 10 where Todd apparently tries to kill Black in a hot tub (that the KinnPorsche trailer showed lol)

I think the points Black/White's mom brings up are interesting because, like, to a certain degree it's true. There's corruption and even if you take down one thing, some new form of corruption will pop up to replace it, so it all feels so hopeless. I don't agree with her other points like "Society has it's own balance, everything happens for a reason" because that's just a fucked up to think about injustice and corruption

alsk;dfj "Everything we've talked about, pass it on to Black." White's not very good at being Black and I'm sure half the gang (Gumpa, Sean) already know it but he hasn't been called out like this yet

Damn losing both her sons, rip

I don't like how Gram keeps making moves on her while she's clearly not ready, like he kissed her while she was drunk/crying/heartbroken and now she got broken up with recently and isn't ready to move on and doesn't like Gram that way but he's asking her out now? Dude, learn some boundaries. We could've had Gram/Black yet here's what we get? I hope Eugene lives her best life away from him. I wonder if we'll get to see Eugene/Black

10-2

lmfao of course Gumpa comes up with a plan that needs a police right now

Yok sure knows how to make a goddamn statement, he's wild

Nah like how are you gonna expect Sean, whose father was murdered by the police, to trust a police officer into their gang? Not to mention this officer is the one who killed his dad !

Fighting in this found family friendship T.T hurts

Oh my god the part 3 preview ? "You think I can't tell between you and Black?" from Sean?? I don't look at previews, so this suddenly being on a screen startled me. I have a meeting in 7 minutes but part 3 is 12 minutes aghhh okay fuck it, I'll just start it

10-3

Sean's pause after being asked whether he's willing to give up his life for the cause T.T Thinking about Sean/White's conversation about his life being worth something T.T

Gumpa's love adviceee

alks;df Sean eager puppy calling Black and actual Black picking up all stoic and calculating lol cute I guess this will be the scene where maybe SeanBlack kiss under the bridge that I've heard everybody talk about

They're not actually gonna have Sean confess to Black, right aklsdfj tense and humourous

lmfao I really thought Sean would be able to tell them apart by demeanour, if not by how they look. So does this mean Sean, in fact, didn't figure out that White's not Black? Also the preview at the end of last part just didn't appear lmao, I avoid previews because I don't wanna be spoiled and because they're misleading sometimes so I guess I got both from that one

Oh my god ?!?!! Black's doing a number of him. Sean's just having friends turn on him today, huh? This scene is like a reversal of the Sean and Yok fight scene from part 2

What an incredibly fucked up situation.

Sean's desperation and confusion at this Black and also Black's desperation when he keeps telling Sean to fight back.

Also, Black dashing away, leaving a weak and hurt Sean by himself as if they aren't being watched and followed lmfao what a piece of work

I guess this is also Black's way of protecting White? He tells Sean to not come to him anymore, so this way Sean won't seek out White and keep him in this life and thus in danger? Kinda like a much more fucked up version of how Black broke up with Eugene

Anyway, my meeting got moved back so I was able to watch the whole part and I'm going right onto 10-4, holy shit

Also, episode 14 is premiering right now, so my whole Tumblr dashboard is just "This post contains filtered tags. #not me, #not me the series" lol Hope everyone's having fun and that it's a good, satisfying, incredible, worthy ending

10-4

I took a moment to read the rest of the episode 9 on-air thread. Interesting to see people theories of SeanWhite/Black after seeing Black beat the shit out of Sean lmao I did think this could happen in like ep 6 or something but after last two episodes I was under the impression Sean would know Black's not White and it wouldn't get to this situation. Curious to see how they're gonna deal with the fallout

Sean goes to Namo ? and says "Black left me" with his bloody, beat-up face ?! My jaw dropped

Namo so true like you asshole, you came here knowing how I feel about you

Namo is seriously so cool.

...why are there people surrounding the garage?

bro fuck !!! wtf is up with all this intensity holy shit

I feel like all thoughts have left me after this episode. The r/boys_love on-air episode 10 thread provides some interesting thoughts and motivations for the characters, so I'm enjoying reading that.

I'm so attached to all the characters and relationships and story thus far. I hope some things that I'm like ? on (like Sean not knowing Black's Black and White's not Black) are cleared up. I'm so looking forward to the last third of the show.

Also, I’ve been thinking after reading some comments, but how does it feel to be Black right now? You disappear and a completely different person with different personality and experience replaces you but none of your friends can tell. In fact, they embrace this new person into the group and prop him up as the leader. In some cases, the relationship even improves like with Sean and White. What a strange and heavy realization to see and feel how replaceable you are.

Next Up: Live Blogging Episodes 11 - 14

[writtenonreceipts]

Hi! I love what you did with the Rowaelin angst prompt, you really got me there. I was wondering, what about a part 2? Maybe based on the song “ last Christmas?” Thanks!

is it wrong that i’ve never really listened to that song before?  oopes.  haha.  when i listened, it struck a chord of even more angst with me so here we are! thanks so much for reading and for the ask!!

read part 1 here

#

One year.

She’d thought that it would have been enough time.  She’d hoped that it would be.  But now, being back in the city staring up at Dorian’s apartment building--Aelin was terrified.  

She was shaking, her heart throbbing, her breath rattling.  It didn’t occur to her at that moment that she was having a panic attack.  Because Aelin did not have panic attacks.  She was in control of herself and her past and it was fine.

A doorman opened the front door as Aelin approached the building.  She gave him a smile while also pondering how the hell Dorian could afford a place like this.  The last she knew he’d been cut off from his family and struck out on his own.  Of course Dorian Havilliard wasn’t one who stayed down for long.  It shouldn’t have surprised her that Dorian lived in a place like this.

The lobby of the building was warm with soft golden light giving the entire space a decadent glow.  As she entered the elevator, Aelin managed to get a hold of her breathing under control.  It helped that she was going to the top floor.  

Mother above, Dorian, she thought, how did this happen?

She should have known that being gone for a year would do this.  Nothing would be the same, things would change, and hell--she deserved the unsettling tides.

The elevator opened and Aelin went the few short steps to his door.  There was only one other apartment on this floor.  Not that she should have been surprised.  When she knocked on the door she was met by a handsome man with black hair and a neatly pressed button up shirt.  His face lit up as he took her in.

“Aelin!”

“Hey Dorian,” she said, putting on her best smile.

“Damn, I’ve missed you,” he said.  He yanked her inside with a flourish. “Seriously, Aelin, you couldn’t have called?”

“I’ve been busy,” she said while shooting him a dramatic eye roll. “And so have you by the looks of it.”

Dorian grinned.  “C’mon.  I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Aelin followed him through the front hall of the penthouse.  Everything about it screamed of sophistication.  The hard oak floors, the cream colored walls, soft lights.  She truly shouldn’t have been surprised that Dorian had found his way back into this sort of society.

Christmas music drifted in from deeper in the apartment mingling with the sound of voices.  Warm scents of baked goods and cinnamon greeted Aelin as she rounded a corner and came up short.

Not only was the living room filled with men and women in fancy suits and dresses--Dorian’s business partners if Aelin had to guess--but several familiar faces as well greeted her.

“You're here!”  

Aelin had to stagger back as someone nearly tackled her with a hug.  It didn’t take long for her to recognize the embrace or the familiar scents of cedar and lavender.  Lysandra gripped her tighter.

“I missed you too,” Aelin chuckled.

When she was finally released from Lysandra’s near death grip, Aelin got a good look around at who else was gathered for the party.  She froze upon seeing Lorcan, Fenrys, and Connall.  If the three of them were here that could only mean--

She was gratefully distracted at seeing Aedion come from around the corner by the kitchen.  

“Well, well.  You’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence?” Aedion quipped.

Aelin had to bite back an inappropriate comment that she knew Dorian’s other guests wouldn’t appreciate.  Instead, she rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug.

“Missed you too, ass,” she said quietly enough so as not to disturb the high society ambiance of the party.

“Let me get you a drink,” Aedion grinned.

He was quickly replaced by Dorian’s girlfriend, a delightfully terrifying young woman with silvery blonde hair and vibrant gold eyes.

“I hear you're the one to come to to stage an emergency ending to the festivities,” Manon said.  She had a shot of whisky in both hands and shoved one toward Aelin.

“Get me a lighter and smoke alarm and I can have this place cleared out in an hour,” Aelin replied with a wink.  Manon grinned and shot back her drink.

She could do this.  Despite all the unfamiliar faces and how strange it was to be back home--Aelin would make this work.  She unfortunately had to talk about what she had been doing the past year.  A lot.

Not long after the...incident...she’d taken an opportunity to travel to Italy to play as a concert pianist in various opera and play productions.  And then her work in the fashion industry led her to move to Paris for the last six months.  And she hadn’t regretted anything.  Not really.

The only thing she actually did regret was staying away from her family and friends for so long.  But she’d done so to keep herself sane.  She had to keep reminding herself that there was a reason as to why she left.  And a reason to why she would probably continue to stay away.

Aedion was just explaining the disastrous way he had proposed to Lysandra--when had Aelin missed that?--when the door to Dorian’s apartment opened again.  

Aelin was facing away from it but from the looks shot in her direction, she knew exactly who had entered.  She had to force herself to take a small, slow sip of her drink and not look over her shoulder.

“Hey Rowan,” Dorian called out. He’d been talking to someone Aelin thought was the CEO of some company or another but moved quickly out of Aelin’s line of sight.

When had they all gotten on close enough terms to be friends?  How had they all gotten to be friends?  And why the hell hadn’t Dorian warned her?

Panic swirled in Aelin’s gut, but she kept her back straight, her chin up.  She had no reason to be cowering.  

“Sorry I’m late.”

That voice.  That damn voice.  How could it still cause her heart to stutter and her skin to flush?  Aelin found herself gripping her beer tighter as she stared straight ahead at Aedion who was watching her carefully.

She was fine.

One year.  She’d had one year and she was fine.

“Nah, you’re fine,” Dorian said.  

Has the music gotten quieter?  Had all the voices stilled and silenced?  Aelin could hear her blood pounding in her ears.  Her palms started sweating and she knew she needed air.

She reached out and squeezed Lysandra’s hand who had diligently stayed by her side all night.

“I need some air,” Aelin said.  And without further explanation she darted to the balcony, slipping out into the cold air.

Despite how hot she was, the chill immediately struck Aelin to the core.  She downed the rest of the drink she had in one hand and set in on the small patio table.  The alcohol did little to help her.  If anything, it made her feel even more miserable.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Aelin stared out over the city.  From this vantage, she could forget about the traffic down below.  She could forget that just a few blocks to the west was her old apartment.  

Instead, Aelin let the chill wind brush against her skin.  The air helped her mind clear, even with all the drinks she’d had, and helped her breath a little easier.  

She’d made a mistake coming tonight.  Not only had it been overwhelming to see all her friends again, all at once, but now she couldn’t leave.  Not without looking like a wounded animal in front of that bast--

The door of the balcony opened behind her.  Aelin stiffened, but turned around.

There was Rowan.  Hell he was still just as handsome as ever with his broad chest, piercing eyes, and brooding face.  He’d cut his hair since the last time Aelin had seen it.  It was styled neatly and didn’t even hang in his eyes.  His suit fit his form well, the tie at his neck loosed just enough that Aelin caught sight of a tattoo trying to sprawl it’s way up his neck.  That was new.  

“You looked cold,” the ass said.  In one hand he held out a coat that blessedly looked like the kind of thing Manon would wear.  Black with too many zippers and buckles.  

She wished she hadn’t finished off her drink so she could toss it in his face.  But she was cold and she was the bigger person.  She accepted the coat and slipped it on.  It was lined with soft fleece and Aelin debated trying to steal in from Manon.

They stood there facing each other not not seeing the other.  After her initial appraisal of him, Aelin focused her attention over his shoulder where Lysandra stood watching through the glass door.  Aelin had never been more grateful for her friend.  Rowan also didn’t look at her.  Instead he looked over the cityscape behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets.

They stood there.  In silence.  Only the barest hints of Christmas music filtered from inside.  Despite the coat, Aelin felt a chill rise on her skin.  She didn’t want to be here.  She didn’t want to do this.

“Can we talk?” Rowan asked quietly.  

She felt the second his gaze turned to her face.  She felt his eyes rove her body and felt the way he assessed her.  Always so analytical.  Always so observant.

“I can’t do this right now, Rowan,” she said, tucking a stray bit of hair behind one ear.  She shocked her head and tried to dismiss the look of utter pain on his beautiful face.

“I just want--I need to talk to you,” he whispered.

Aelin stepped away from him and leaned against the balcony railing.  She stared into the main room and found Lysandra, still standing and watching.

“I can’t,” she repeated, “It’s been a year and I still can’t even look at you Rowan.  Do you not realize what you did to me?”

The pain on Rowan’s face hardened.  Despite the time they had spent apart, Aelin was still able to read him.  Anger, disappointment.  And more pain.  Good.

“You left before we had the chance to talk,” he said.

“Talk about what?” She said, cutting off before she said his name again.  It hurt far too much to keep repeating it. “That you cheated on me?  That instead of staying that night, you went out and got so drunk you couldn’t even control yourself?  Is that what you want to talk about?  That you broke my heart?  That after everything you and I have been through you just said to hell with it and went and trampled all over it?”

Aelin had to push away from the railing and pace a few steps.  Her body was shaking and her mind would not settle.  She bit down on her tongue to keep from talking more.  Because if she continued she knew her voice would get too loud and she couldn’t ruin Dorian’s party by screaming at Rowan.

He only watched her.  Aelin knew she had cut him deep but honestly did he deserve anything else?

“You said you wanted to work on our relationship,” he finally said.

“That was before,” Aelin snapped, but Rowan spoke over her.

“You wanted to work on what we have--had--and fix it.  And I’m the ass that took that away, I know I am,” he said, his voice quiet but with burning intensity. “But when you left without warning, without putting a closure on what happened, how do you think I felt, Aelin?  Did you stop to think about what that did to me?”

“Quite honestly I couldn’t care less about how my actions affect you,” she said and met his eyes. “Because obviously you couldn’t care enough about me.”

As he stared at her, Aelin swore she could feel a phantom of his hands on her body.  She’d imagined his touch before.  So many times at night when she struggled to fall asleep.  It made her sick then and it did so now.  

She’d had a year.  Wasn’t that enough?

Aelin broke the connection first by turning to where she’d set her glass.  She picked it up and made to step around him.  Rowan made to grab her arm, but she flinched away.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He retreated, just a step, but Aelin could still feel the ghost of his breath on her skin.

“I still love you,” he said.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears building behind her eyes.

“Good-bye Rowan.”

She slid the door of the balcony open and reentered the apartment.  The warmth immediately saturated her skin and enveloped her.  Lysandra was by her side in an instant.

Aelin was grateful when her friend did nothing but take the glass from her frozen fingers and guide her away from the balcony.  

Dorian wasted no time in finding her and giving her arm a squeeze. “I didn’t think he was actually going to come.  I mean, he hasn’t been out with any of us for a while.”

The look of sheer panic in her eyes told Aelin that he was telling the truth.  She patted his hand.  “I’m fine, Dorian.  But I should go.  I have somewhere to be.”

She gently brushed his hand away and gave Lysandra a firm nod.

“I can kick him out,” Dorian insisted.

“And make a scene?” Aelin shook her head. “I heard what Fenrys said, he’s working for Maeve now and you don’t want her on your bad side.”

Dorian looked ready to refute everything Aelin had said, but she held a hand up to silence him.

“I really do have somewhere to be,” she said.  She slipped out of Manon’s jacket and shoved it in Dorian’s hands.  

“Aelin, this handsome fella said he’s looking for you,” Manon’s voice rang out.

She looked up and felt the first bit of relief that night.

Sam Cortland adjusted his tie as he stepped into the living room.  His eyes immediately landed on Aelin and he smiled brightly.

“Hey,” she said.  His presence immediately strengthened her from the conversation she’d just had with Rowan. “I didn’t think you would make it.”

“I left my meeting early,” Sam admitted.  He wasted no time in leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to Aelin’s mouth. “It was worth it though.”

Aelin made introductions and Sam explained one fateful night in Paris after a work meeting where he had finally managed to woo Aelin into a date.  Six months later they were still together.

There was laughter and jokes that Aelin didn’t hear.  She knew Sam had wrapped an arm around her waist at one point.  Someone found her a new drink.  

But she missed it all.

Not when snow began falling outside and a pair of green eyes bore into her.  And even with the poor angle, she couldn’t quite seem to shake him.  She wondered if he knew that it had taken months for Aelin to stop crying herself to sleep.  That sometimes she still did.  And despite how much she cared for Sam she struggled telling him three simple words.  They still didn’t live together.  They hadn’t even slept together.

The snow began falling in earnest outside and Aelin could see the way it caught in Rowan’s hair and lingered on his jacket.  She missed everything going on around her except for the flex in Rowan’s jaw as he watched her.

She missed it all because it had been a year and she was still in love with the man who had broken her heart.

#

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[ryik-the-writer]

CHAPTER 29: Instincts

A03

         Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy

·         Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story)

·         Chapter 3: Day One

·         Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies

·         Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars

·         Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress

·         Chapter 7: Operation Spotless!

·         Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down

·         Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil

·         Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake

·         Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1

·         Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2

·         Chapter 13: The Girl With Blue Eyes: Underground

·         Chapter 14. Recovery

·         Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more

·         Chapter 15: Trapped

       Chapter 16: Filth

       Chapter 17: Fairydust pt. 1

       Chapter 18: Fairydust pt. 2

       Chapter 19: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3

       Chapter 20: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 2

       Chapter 21: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3

       Chapter 22: Reflections pt. 1

       Chapter 23: Reflections pt. 2

       Chapter 24: Closing

       Chapter 25: Felix is helping Pan

       Chapter 26: Temporary Fix

       Chapter 27: The Search Begins

        Chapter 28: The Missing Pan

So this is what death feels like? It’s not terrible, just incredibly long.

Dehydration had long set in, so much so that even Pan’s eyes were dry.

Jones was refusing to give him food and water until he “revealed what he knew.”

Pan would, of course, tell him to fuck himself. Nevermind that he had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.

Maybe it was journalistic instincts or his own, but Pan wanted to know what Jones was going on about, why he thought kidnapping him would give him what he wanted.

He had been waiting for the man to finally spill, but Jones seemed to be as clever as he was.

Pan would die a slow painful death with an unknown secret. He could only hope it tore Jones to pieces.

But it was harder for him to focus on disemboweling Jones when his own demise were front and center.

It was odd how unafraid he was. Annoyed and pained, yes, but not necessarily scared.

He remembered wanting to die on plenty of occasions: when he was a snot-nosed little punk in Scotland and his father used to wail on him, when he found out Belle was in love with his fucking brother of all people. When he’d be on a high after writing an amazing story that ruined someone’s life. Even in between the better moments of his life, when he was investigating with Felix or having drinks with Tink and Lily, when he just couldn’t find peace.

When he was with Wendy and he felt so grounded he couldn’t take it.

Shit. He swore he wouldn’t think about her. Wouldn’t think about any of the people he gave a shit about.

Yeah, now that he was on death’s door, he could finally admit to himself that he kind of gave a shit about something.

His pride and his ambition had stood in the way for so long, he had plenty of time to realize when those walls had come down.

Wendy fucking Darling.

She’d gotten under his skin, into his veins. He’d become desperate for her presence, for her validation.

For her smile.

“She’s really beautiful you know,” Jones had gloated to him last night as he drunk from that damned flask of his. “Really something. I might just get a taste of her myself.”

A weak snarl was all Pan was able to muster, but his brain was burning with all the things he was going to do to him the second he had these fucking cuffs off.

Maybe that’s part of the reason he was still hanging on. He wanted Jones’s blood to soak his lips, give him the hydration he had denied him for days now.

Or maybe he truly had gone soft and he wanted to see her and everyone else again.

All the people who hated him and cared for him…he was going to be lost to them now.

It was true then: Peter Pan didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be forgotten about.

And he wanted to see her again.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 “What are we doing?” Wendy laughed as Killian drug her up the boat.

Jones hid his smile well. “You shall soon see, Miss Darling.”

Wendy shrugged and followed, charmed that he still referred her to something so gentle. He’d been courting her for three days now, and each time they were together she found herself a bit more star struck.

Killian was so far advanced in the world than she. He had seen things, been places she’d only seen on maps, lived as a person she was far from being.

But Wendy ate up his stories, usually told over brunch or a nice picnic.

Tonight however would be the first time they’d have dinner, and have it on his vast ship she’d been admiring from the dock for some time now.

She was grateful for his company just as much as she was for the distraction from her current dilemmas.

Pan still had yet to return or make his location known. They were both set to return to the Mirror in a few days with their suspension ending, and she only hoped he thought to come back by then.

She could honestly care less at this point, she had decided, squashing the guilt she felt. Pan had made his decision, had chosen to push her so far away he could never find her again. She wouldn’t be the one to try to make amends if he returned.

The “if” part was what was keeping her from falling asleep at night. If he’d been more ceremonial in his departure, she might be more relaxed. But he just vanished. No note, no hints. Not even a plan for his cat. He pretty much left the poor thing to starve.

Wendy still checked in on the creature, but had slowly made the transition to her own apartment. Sometimes at night, when she was getting out of the tub or combing her hair, she’d look down her window at his building and spare the thought that he was coming back soon.

But it was just a flutter of a thought, and she would return to the present. Story ideas for when she returned to work, making peace with Tink, and Jones.

Wendy would be the first to admit she was naïve when it came to dating. Her first and only beau, Edward, had been more boring than a sack of flour and their breakup had been a celebration for her.

What she had with Pan was more of a fight to the death speckled with quick moments of peace. It was stimulating but painful all at once.

Whatever she was building with Jones excited her. It wasn’t the back and forth screaming match she had with Pan. It was tamer, and felt unabashedly like romance.

“You know, the last time my view was obstructed I solved a nearly decade’s old mystery in this town,” Wendy deadpanned as she felt a railing under her hand. They were going up something. And they were on the docks judging by the scent of salt in the air.

Killian’s chuckle rumbled through her back. “I’ve heard a great many about your adventures in town. You’ll have to tell me all about them.”

Wendy felt around until she found his hand, and he paused.

“I haven’t finished learning about you,” Wendy pointed out, her heart speeding up.

She felt Killian’s warm breath on the edge of her ear. “I have to keep some of my secrets, love.”

Wendy swallowed hard. Damn. Now it was more than the darkness that made her heart swell.

Thankfully though, that part soon passed and Killian removed the blindfold.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the setting sun, and then the sight before her made her gasp.

 A well-set table decorated the deck of Killian’s ship, complete with a bucket of ice and what looked like champagne.

She could smell garlic in the air, not doubt encased in whatever was under the metal dishes on the table.

Killian had passed her and began lighting the elongated candles on the table.

“What is all this?” Wendy laughed.

“An anniversary dinner of sorts,” Jones winked.

“We’ve barely been acquainted a full week,” Wendy pointed out, following him when he motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs that he had pulled out.

“Then we have something to celebrate,”

Wendy watched him, amused as he popped open the champagne and poured them each a glass. He raised his, tipping it towards her.

“To five days of a beautiful relationship,”

Wendy scoffed. She could toast to that, and she did, tapping her glass to his.

She took a slow sip of the bubbly drink, stilling her flinch at the strong alcohol. She’d never had anything stronger than a glass of wine at her college graduation and she knew her tolerance would be very low.

He drained his glass quickly but made no attempt to refill his or hers.

“And now,” he bowed, lifting the lid off their plates.

Wendy witnessed a well-crafted dish of crispy fish surrounded by colorful vegetables in a sort of white broth.

She glanced up at Killian and noticed the slight hesitation in his eyes.

Oh my gods, she thought, he’s nervous about his food!

Wendy picked up her fork, getting a bite of everything on the utensil. The vegetables were a bit salty for her preference, but the fish melted on her tongue.

She chuckled. Of course someone who lived on a ship would know how to cook a good fish.

She smiled as to ease Killian’s mind.

“Delicious.”

He glowed at the compliment and comfortably began to eat his own dish.

Wendy continued to examine him, wishing more than anything that she could figure out his game. Jones didn’t make her uncomfortable, not really, but he did make her question his motive and his interest in her.

“You’re quite distracted for someone eating some of the highest quality crawfish on this side of Maine,” Jones joked when he noticed her inquisitive expression.

He’d been taking small circles around her, disguising his intentions. Tonight was the final test, one last go before he decided—not if—but how he would eliminate her.

He was starting to doubt that she knew anything at all.

“I was just thinking about you,” Wendy said boldly.

Jones stopped chewing, the slightest tension curling his fingers.

“Aye?” he said, keeping his demeanor.

“I was thinking of me as well,” she admitted. “How I know so little of you yet came onto your ship—lovely craftsmenship, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, easing a bit. Wendy was young, and hopefully easily distractible.

“I feel like I should be afraid of you,” she continued, not feeling the least bit foolish about the reveal of such a personal thought. She’d fought off maniacs and barely escaped with her life; she wasn’t afraid to admit if she was scared or not.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know you, and for all I know you poisoned the very food I just ate, or you plan on knocking me cold and dumping me into the harbor.”

One out of two, not bad, he thought.

Still, he to keep the game going, had to pull her out of that state of uneasiness if he wanted to win.

“Allow me to put you more at ease,” he offered. He stood and made his way across the deck where he had set up an old vinyl player.

Wendy gasped when he turned on a gentle tune, looking up at him with stars in her eyes when he came back to her and held out his hand.

“Care for a dance, Miss Darling?”

Wendy’s stomach twisted, the memory of Pan twirling her around the club downtown causing a periscope of emotions to crash over her.

She took Jones’s hand and squeezed it, praying the memory would leave her.

As Jones guided her down the deck and positioned his hands like a true gentlemen, she decided she could leave it indeed.

“Now,” he said as they moved. “Allow me to ease your mind. Ask me a question, anything you like, but I want to ask you one in return.”

“I’m a journalist, Mr. Jones, I’m fairly good at asking questions.”

 “Then make them count,” he grinned.

She accepted his challenge, licking her lips as she laid out in her mind exactly what she wanted to know.

“Do you live on this ship?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Hey now,” she chastised.

Jones chuckled. She really was a delight.

“It was an antique I restored for one of my clients,” he said. She didn’t need to know that said client had been disemboweled by him on the very deck they were dancing on.

“He practically gave it to me when I finished.”

“You’re a carpenter then. A traveler as well?”

“One question at a time, Miss Darling,”

“Not a question. More like an observation.” she corrected.

He smiled. Witty as well.

“Tell me, how did such a well-established lady like yourself end up in Maine of all places?”

Wendy scoffed, the life she had before Storybrooke seeming so long ago.

“An internship. It was really an excuse to leave home and see a bit of the world, but I decided to try to make it a career. It’s been…”

Jones’s smile faded when Wendy’s tenseness caused them to stop. As if sensing her distress, the vinyl player abruptly stopped its song.

“Are you alright,” Jones inquired.

Wendy gulped, memories of that devil woman Cruella and that sick bastard Jekyll crawling through her brain.

“It hasn’t been easy being here,” she said.

It hasn’t been easy being with Pan, she wanted to say.

“That lad, the one who abandoned you” Jones pushed. “Does he have anything to do with that?”

Of course, Jones knew the answer to that, having had said lad in his company for several days now.

“More than you could ever know.”

Jones tilted his head. It was really tragic, watching such a vibrant creature fade over such a wretched little creature.

He cupped her cheek and turned her to him, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin.

“Let him go, love,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”

Wendy Darling was innocent, both in spirit and in the crimes he had stacked against her. It didn’t stop what he had to do, but he would prefer that her last memories were pleasant.

But Wendy was plagued by the pandemic that was Pan. She told him in her message to him that she had to let him go, there was no room anymore to wait on him.

Yet he was still in her mind. She wanted to let him go, needed to.

She looked into Jones’s smiling eyes, this enigma of a man who had wondered into her life. Maybe it was fate’s way of telling her to move on, or perhaps just a coincidence.

Either way, she needed his help.

She cupped the hand on her face, keeping him where he was.

He didn’t move, perhaps sensing what she wanted to do, needed to do.

She leaned in, leaning up just enough so that their lips touched.

Kissing Killian was like tasting the rarest of liquor: it was addictive, intoxicating, dangerous. Wendy weaved her fingers into his hair, her other hand unsure quite where to venture next.

But Jones did. He led it to his chest, one of his hands cupping her waist with purpose, the other traveling to tangle in her locks.

He felt Wendy tensed under his touch and he pulled back.

“Please, not my hair,” she said, ashamed.

He nodded, uncertain and shocked when his heart lurched at her pained expressin. “Do you want to stop?:

Wendy wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Was she really about to go through with this? Have relations with someone she’d only known a few days?

She thought about all the morals that had been lodged into her mind since girlhood. They seemed so faint now, a side effect, she thought, of being in the presence of someone as moralless like Pan.

Truth was she wanted to do it, wanted to fill that emptiness Pan had created in her.

“Where…is there…”

He nodded, knowing her mind and lead her to his sleeping quaters.

He sat her down on his bed, hands twitching by his side while the rest of him remained still.

This had to be her choice. He couldn’t continue unless she made the first move.

They stared at each for a moment, their heavy breathing subsiding as Wendy made up her mind.

She reached a hand out, inviting him.

A small smile curled on his lips. He took it and got down on one knew, hands guiding up her smooth knees.

Wendy leaned forward and began to remove his shirt as he lifted his arms up to let her.

The weight of her inexperience began to thrive as she gazed upon his lean, mature form. He had little knicks and scars on his arms and chest, tales of a life he . Just like her.

She felt so small compared to him, so young. She considered calling this whole thing off—she knew he’d respect it.

“Nervous, love?” he inquired.

He intertwined his fingers in the hand that had undressed him.

“Let me lead, Wendy,”

She allowed it. Allowed his hands and lips to seek her out.

He was gentle. He wanted to be.

Wendy wasn’t like the other women he’d bedded in the past. She had this air of sophistication he hadn’t known before, cutting deeply into the innocence she wore like a torn coat.

But her passion, bless her. She allowed the instinct to take over, to guide her hands and lips to places he wants them to be.

He’s struggling to contain himself, his own instinct telling him to conquer, but Wendy doesn’t deserve that.

It was part of the game, after all. Seduce the pretty girl woman, kill her and be done with it. One last round of euphoria before he moved on to the next target.

His kisses are heated, biting, but patient – she allows him to remove her clothes, carefully.

He moans when her soft, round lips mouth down his neck, and he wraps his arms around her waist, caressing her bareness possessively, greedily. He soon draws her mouth to his own once more.

“Wendy,” he breathes, almost trembling. Her name alone is so delicate.

She looks at him and he is so proud of the fire in her eyes.

“I…” she begins, stopping and laughing nervously.

He couldn’t stop his own from breaking free. He picks her up just enough to spread her on his sheets, ready for the next bit.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. It’s a line he’s used on his targets before as he’s reeled them in. The answer’s always the same. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they?

But something in Wendy’s expression changes. There’s no hesitation in her eyes, but an unwavering defiance that changes everything.

“No, Killian,” she said with a sad smile. “I don’t trust you at all.”

Indeed, those few words change everything.

When she leans up to kiss him, he doesn’t return the gesture right away.

Wendy Darling is indeed not like the other women he’s dealt with. She’s young, charismatic, and worst of all, far from a fool.

Her hand strokes his jaw, turning him back to her.

“But I still want you,” she says, her very being glowing. “Is that alright?”

The man between her legs accepts her in earnest, those predatory eyes fluttered shut as he pressed into her hand.

  Oh Wendy, run, he wants to say.

  “That it is, love,” he says instead, sealing her fate.

  Hours later Jones examined her in the fading moon light. The game had stopped. Maybe it had been over the second he asked Wendy her name.

She was breathing so tenderly, so calm despite the fact that she had just slept with someone who had been killing people longer than she’d been alive.

Unperturbed that she and her little friend below were teetering on death’s door.

He rose and dressed quietly, slipping the sheet fully around her body, but he didn’t kiss her temple despite how he desperately wanted to.

He heads below, pausing to grab a bottle of water, an act that surprises even him.

He makes his way below deck slowly, the form of his captive becoming clearer the closer he gets. Within a moment he make out the lad’s deadly glare.

“You fucker,” he wheezes.

Jones smirks. “Oh, so you heard?”

Pan lurched forward, thwarted by his shackles but the malice in his eyes didn’t die.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this!”

Jones chuckled, pulling a barrel forward as he reveled in one-upping the pious lad.

His smirk faded though as he thought of Wendy.

He was due to report back to his contact tomorrow afternoon. He was expected to report two deaths and he hadn’t managed to kill off the one before him.

Now as he stared at the glaring youth and his thoughts stayed on the blonde goddess above his head, for the first in his like Killian Jones was having second thoughts…about everything.

“You don’t know anything, do you?” Jones tested. Of course Pan didn’t respond.

Jones sighed. He couldn’t just let him go. He had been noticed by now. Jones heard whispers in the street of his disappearance. He needed to be dealt with now.

Jones uncapped the bottle he brought with him. Pan struggled to keep his eyes from following the sloshing of the water.

His capture held it out to his cracked lips. “Take it.”

Pan turned his head. No matter how much he needed it, he wouldn’t give in.

Jones growled and grabbed Pan by his hair, forcing his head down. He squeezed the bottle and water spewed all over Pan’s face and hair, the lad struggling fruitlessly in his grip as he cough and wheezed.

Jones threw him back, glaring at him as he cursed and shook the water off.

“What the fuck do you want!” Pan yelled.

Jones stood and backhanded him. “Shut up. You’ll wake her.”

Blood oozed from Pan’s right nostril, moistening his lips.

“I’m going to break your fucking neck!”

“I’m afraid you won’t get the chance,” Jones sighed as he flicked stray water droplets off his hands. “You see, boy, I have to end you soon.”

Pan’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t fret, I’ll be quick, simple. I’ll grant you that.”

“It’s lasted for days,” Pan reminded him with a snarl.

Jones shrugged. “As for our lovely Miss Darling …”

Pan paused, dreading the words that would come from his mouth next.

“Tell me,” Jones said, his tone sincere. “Do you think she’d dig further if I let her alone? Do you think she’d try to find your murderer once your bloated corpse washes up on shore?”

Pan gritted his teeth. Hearing her passion had disturbed him. He had yet to picture her in such a way, let alone with his damn kidnapper.

Now she was above him more close to death than he was, and he couldn’t save her.

And then there was the question of would she try to avenge him.

He hoped not. He truly did.

Jones tilted his head as Pan’s mind raced. He almost felt sorry for the boy, having such a lovely creature so close to his closed-off heart.

He stood, his decision made.

“Good night, boy,” he sighed, closing the door on his returning remarks.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wendy’s eyes opened, the earliest rays of a new day awakening her.

She hadn’t meant to spend the night here, didn’t expect she’d be welcome.

Yet her bed partner was sleeping comfortably beside her, one his arms draped loosely on her waist, and she did indeed feel welcomed.

Maybe she could stay here a bit longer and enjoy the smell of sea air and warmth.

But natured called, and she did have to at least check her phone.

Maybe Pan…

No, she wouldn’t think about him.

Let him go…

She sighed and regrettably removed herself from Jones’s hold, blushing when the sheets scraped her naked skin.

It was hard to believe. She’d been beaten and traumatized but the idea of giving up her womanhood was what was having the most profound effect on her.

She wasn’t a virgin anymore. It was the last thing she’d managed to hold on to from before Storybrooke before all its insanity got its hooks into her.

Now, with her short hair and circled eyes, she truly wasn’t the same girl who’d left London over two months ago.

She was new, darker.

Pan had given her her start; Jones had pushed her over the edge.

And, despite the morals swimming in her head, she was glad.

She was glad it had been her choice, that it was something she had had complete control of.

She smiled as she put on her underthings and dress, stalling her movements to prevent from making a noise. Perhaps Jones would be interested in hearing her revelation when he awoke?

Perhaps he also wouldn’t mind if she searched for substance in his kitchen? That crawfish from last night was long gone.

She located her bag and cellphone and quietly escaped the room, swiping through app notifications that had all but drained her battery.

She stopped in the hallway when she saw she had seven missed calls, three of which were from Tink.

She had a series of missed texts from her as well.

Wendy, please call me.

Wendy, it’s important.

I know I hurt you, but please I need you to call me.

Do you know what happened to Pan? Have you see him at all?

Wendy glanced around and found a random door. The room seemed to be an office of sorts, or a collection room judging by all the memorabilia, but quiet enough to make a phone call.

She called Tink, her stomach turning with apprehension. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had noticed Pan’s absence then.

Tink answered after two rings.

“Wendy!” she said, her voice winded.

“Hey,” Wendy answered uncertainly. “What’s—”

“Where are you?” she cut in. “You – here – as soon as –”

“Tink?” Wendy said, moving around the room for a better signal. “You’re breaking up. What’s going on?”

“Wend—”

The line abruptly went quiet and Wendy cursed when she saw her phone had died.

She tossed her bag on Jones’s desk and untangled her charger from the rest of her belongings.

She squatted down to search under the desk, hoping to see a charging port, but there were too many boxes in the way.

She made a note to tease Jones’s about his hoarding as she pulled boxes out of the way, one of which was surprisingly lite and came out easily.

She stumbled a bit, tipping the box over and causing its contents to spill.

“Bloody hell,” she growled, her hands gathering the sheets of papers that had slipped out.

She shouldn’t have looked. Maybe it was journalist instincts that caused her to look down. It was defiantly trauma that made her bolt back when she saw the face on the paper.

Jekyll.

“No.”

No…no no…

It couldn’t be. How could Jones … why would he …

Her opposite hand fluttered around her, searching desperately for something to grab on to.

It brushed against something hard—a beeper? Hand’s shaking, she picked it up. She wasn’t sure what force was making her turn it on. She should be throwing it.

But it came to life and revealed its secrets.

WHY HAVEN’T YOU RESPONDED?

COMPRIMISED. BLUE EYES FOUND.

“Blue eyes,” Wendy pondered before the bluest pair of eyes she knew flashed across her mind. “Belle?”

PITY. YOU ARE NO LONGER OF ANY USED TO ME THEN.

GOODBYE.

That was it, and if Wendy had to guess Jekyll had had his brains blown out after receiving that message.

She dropped the beeper, wiping her hands frantically on her dress, not wanting any part of her on him.

She had been searching for Pan that night at the club. He had disappeared. She thought he abandoned her.

Jones had it. All this evidence that had been taken from…where? His secret lab under the hospital…

The car his corpse had been rotting in?

“I … I …”

Panic was setting in. The roots of her hair were standing straight up.

She could see Jekyll’s rotting corpse so clearly.

Pan had been there too. Talking to her. Keeping her from losing her mind.

She was searching for him in a sea of strangers. She felt so lost.

There had to be a logical explanation, right? Jones just picked up the beeper, found it somewhere …

She glanced at the overturned box again, full of Jekyll’s fucking face.

He didn’t pull them out of a dead man’s car, did he?

“Wendy?”

He heard him stop, seeing the mess around her.

She looked up at him and saw everything. The guilt of being caught, the secret of a man who had too many secrets.

And she knew right then that Jekyll wasn’t the only one.

It was like an arrow had gone straight through her skull, carrying a physical rage and boiling hurt that settled into one acidic fire.

She shot around, staring at the man who shot her, but only one thing—one person—had squirmed past the pain.

Pan hadn’t abandoned her…

And she needed him now.

She abandoned him.

“Where is he?”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yeah, I don’t write sex scenes sorry ;p

Still, sorry for the, what, year-long wait? Yikes. Going through some stuff and I just haven’t felt like writing. Trying to get into again, so hold on tight!