#VOICED BY WOMEN. BUT CLOUDS WAS LITERALLY LIKE. IF YOU TOLD ME IT WAS A GIRL TALKING I WOULD BELIEVE YOU NO QUESTIONS ASKED

[thatweirdfetish]

In the short time I didn't have tiktok, I couldn't silence the invasive thoughts with thirst traps of buff women and Emmrich enthusiasts. Instead I opted to write scenes, things that make me think of Emmrich, and a collective of things that I can physically hear him say.

"I'll envy even the dirt that wraps up your body, my dear." dunno where I heard it but it's got Em all over it.

"Whether you come as a lover or an executioner, I am ready to receive you.” for specifically Lich!Emmrich

"Have you heard of the lovelorn wanderer? The woman that dug in the dirt for her not so lover?" lover girl is literally haunting the grounds Emmrich died at, no matter how he passed she still digs

"Rook darling, why can't you get it? I have had my beginning and I know how this ends, the middle is where you were found. The ever encapsulating unknown of the in between, it's beautiful but so horrifically short."

"Darling, how this almost ruined me- To be a man that lives in the darkness would have been better than to be the man that life found, the man on his knees who prayed for your return is worse off than the man who never knew its grace. (Solas)He spoke of fairness in a game that we should not play. The only equality to be seen is the one where you walked away. Love wants to be as simple as breathing, but it came as swift as the waves recede. Love does not care for the speed nor for the height of which the waves have grown; it only knows destruction or how it will swallow you whole." my brain went a lil wild after he said 'darling I thought I'd lost you forever' in such a sad voice

'Silence had never felt so heavy as when he looked up at me, cradling the limp stature of his ward. Our son, "We must go to the Necropolis.." he strained out, veilfire dancing in the collective tears we both were attempting to will away. "ahem- Of course, would you like me t-" The crunch of dirt scattering under his boot cut her short as he lifts Manfred wordlessly. The soft tremor of his shoulders breaking the thinly veiled composure he clings to as he strided forward. Neve's hand on my shoulder is the only thing helping to maintain my own.'

And now a little scene between my Rook's mother and her ever patient baby daddy.

"One of us has to consider my morality!" she watched as his grey hair slowly fell out of place, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he spoke despite his measured tone, the desperate dedication filling his eyes as he looked upon her. "Emmrich please, I know the risks at hand here-" "At your age?" he cuts in, her eyes quick to snap up to his narrowing.

Hands clenched on reflex as she inhales deeply. "That's not fair and you know it" she whispered before returning her gaze to him with an almost unbearable softness. "Yes, at my age. I'm not some naive dalen roaming the Arlathan wilds, nor am I some spry junior attending your lectures. You have six, say it with me, SIX years on me at most. Our children are nearly half our age. And it would do you well to remember that,"

She watched as his posture snapped straight, confusion clouding up his expression as his eyes bounced across her features expectantly. Her eyebrows knitting together in confusion, "What?" She asks, anxiety nipping at her tongue.

"Children- you said CHILDREN, plural.." he spoke slowly, carefully. Almost playing with the way the words flowed from his mouth.

"Yes I di-" it was her turn to still now, eyes quickly dropped to the floor.

Fuck, she hadn't told him about Emiliana yet.

He took a tentative step forward, gold clinking as he raised his arm to quietly sit in the space between. "Hyacinth- No, Cin darling look at me. Please" he begged, attempting to coax her. But she didn't stir, eyes remained transfixed to the floor out of guilt or desperation he couldn't be sure. So he did what he thought was best and attempted to speak one more time, only to fall silent at the shake of her shoulders as her voice rang out once again.

“Emiliana," she muttered out, "our daughter's name is Emiliana. She's wonderful, so intelligent and diligent. I doubt even a Pride demon could have pried her out of the Skyhold library,” a sad chuckles slipped from her lips as her hand came up to mindlessly thumb at her necklace.

-which is an intricate Locket he's realizing upon closer inspection.

“She's not very adept at magic much to her frustration, I fear it may be the only thing she inherited from me beyond the freckles. She'll be damned if that stops her though," a deep sigh filled the gap as Cin rose her head once more. Tears streaked across her face, but her eyes burned with such loving familiarity it nearly sent him reeling.

“You should see how she flourishes when she is in the thick of her alchemist studies, I'd dare to say her love of botany could put yours to shame with the course she's on at present.” His eyes are wide, careful to note every word, every loving detail she's sharing so rapidly despite the heavy reluctance her voice strained through. The pride he can't help but to bask in with her at every new revelation, and the pain of lost experiences he'll never share.

A small, almost imperceivable smile twitched at the corner of her lips as she wiped away a stray tear.

“She's grown to be so much like you, it nearly had me bent to the knee in mourning at what was taken from you all unknowingly when I ran away with them..”

The crackling of the fireplace and the click of heels against stone echoed against the oppressive silence as he approached her once again. Hands delicate as one came to softly grasp at her twitching hand to remove it from the locket momentarily, while his gloved one patiently cradles her cheek.

“May I?” he asks, voice soft but not demanding as his thumb traces small circles along her face in attempts to help clear up her gathered tears.

Swallowing thickly, she nods ever so slightly. The anxiety, the grief, the anticipation all of it fell to her feet as she watched him.

Still she was eager to drink in the subtle aging of his features with such close proximity, the once shapely cheekbones that's sharpened with the march of time. The ever encapsulating creases of his laugh lines that deepened, and the new ones that formed at the corner of his eyes. That one early onset grey streak that seamlessly bled out and took over the rest of his thick locks save for a long thicket that remains just as pitch black against his widowspeak.

Her eyes flick towards his hand as it gingerly prys open her locket while she notes the slight crinkles of his skin at his knuckles, the greenish hue of the veins under his alabaster skin creeping out from the clicking bracelets in a quiet act of defiance. Even the small dusting of age spots that gather on the top of his hands she's happy to drink up in an attempt to steady herself.

His sharp intake of breath quickly throws her out of it again though as the anxiety coils back through her like a vice grip. His hand slipped from her cheek once more, careful to cradle the locket between both palms that now laid fully unfolded in his grasp.

The tears the fell from his eyes causing her to harshly bite down on her tongue, quick to silence any of her own sobs.

His eyes quickly darted across the golden pendant savoring the images. The first one held the likeness of a child with some of the messiest curls he'd ever seen and a mischievous grin shy of a front tooth. “Rook– no, Edwin..” he spoke with quiet amusement as his thumb gingerly ran along the frame before moving to the next.

There sat the three of them, Edwin barely a hair bigger happily curled into his mother with a hand placed ever so softly on a bundle with pitch black tuffs of hair poking out, he sighed, one that rattled deep from within his chest. “Emiliana?” he questioned, as his thumb lightly grazed the picture while he turned his gaze to Cin.

The metallic taste of blood pooled on her tongue as she nodded wordlessly. Eyelashes heavy with unshed tears as she watched him return to the photo, a somber smile pulling at his lips as he turned to the last one.

He laughed, a genuine deep laugh at the third image. It was of them in their youth standing side by side, covered head to foot in soot and grime. Cin’s wild grin as she eagerly clung to Emmrich's arm, wearing his own coy smile.

“Of all the photos, of all excursions, you pick the messiest one to commit to gold?” he questions, his voice light with mock offense despite the tears that glide down his face. At this she broke, the hideous sound of her sob filled the room at his tender tone.

She sinks in of herself, clutching at her chest tightly in a vain attempt to sooth the violence of her shuddering breaths. Her voice cracking and she speaks,

“Don't just smile at me like that Emmrich, I- I don't deserve it, please” her nails bite into her skin as she clawed at her arm. “Look at what my fear, my selfish fear TOOK from you. I couldn't even, I didn't-”

Her eyes were blown wide with fear and regret, words beginning and dying on her tongue as she grasped roughly at the root her hair pushing it from her face as she laughed.

“I got pregnant not once, but TWICE and ran from you both times. I didn't even give you the courtesy of knowing it happened, I had every opportunity to after Edwin. You were there, right there in front of me at that banquet. We even went off to the gardens to be alone it was the perfect time, it was right fucking there- and then you kissed me and it's like I forgot about everything I was supposed to say and then we-” she paused closing her eyes taking a deep breath and continued, anxiously pacing.

“And then Emiliana came to my attention on that boat on my way from Navarre to Val Royeaux and I just.. How could I just send a letter..? You were rising so high in the order, your reputation was worth it's weight in gold, you were SOMEBODY and I was just- I didn't want to ruin what you'd been working your whole life for, how could I dare to-” she releases her hair, aggressively wiping her tears along her sleeve as she mutter on.

“We were so careful yet still twice it happened, twice. I'll never regret them, and never have but I couldn't drag you down with me. You had so much potential, THEY have so much potential, but I was just a glorified body guard who was apparently trying to move up the ranks by ‘attempting to seduce you’ to our peers.” She stops her ministrations long enough to finally look at him, the quiet recognition of her words lingering in his eyes.

“Cin, you know I'd never believe the humor of such hearsay,” he whispered.

“It wasn't just about you, or me at that point though. I had bigger concerns, and we both know how nobles respond to such cases. Lead alone the senior watchers at the time, even with the low birth status your abilities made you a high value bachelor for better or worse. If word got out about well,” she gestures vaguely to herself. “Do you truly think they'd just let me be? Lead alone Edwin? It would of been a miracle if they let me keep him, especially when he started showing signs of his affinity for corpse whispering so young..” sighing, she turns and sits down at the foot of the steps. Pressing her forehead into her palms.

“I regret not telling you truly, I have for twenty-eight years, Emmrich. While I stand by the decision that led me to leave, I won't forgive the means I had to take to do it. And you being so ready to receive me despite it, let alone smile at me? I don't deserve it, I just don't.”

With a soft breath he strolls beside her, quick to take a seat next to her as he stares at his desk mindlessly twirling the ring on his thumb.

“You know, I once thought about getting married and settling down. It was after you left of course, but not too long after that banquet if I'm being brutally honest. I threw myself into a new whirlwind romance, and convinced myself this was it. This is that one,” She lifted her head slightly to peer over at him, “Seriously?” she questioned.

“Oh absolutely, barely a month in and I was ready to look at jewelry. I was deluding myself off course, but you know how easily I resign myself to my whims, dearest.” he mused, earning a soft snort from beside him.

“Yes, believe me I remember the desire demon incident very clearly..” she muttered, a soft smile tugging at her features.

“Exactly! Well to what I'm sure will come to you as an utter shock, she was only looking for a temporary connection that summer. She was, and I am quoting her here, ‘up to her ears with art she needed to appraise and didn't have the time.’ A lovely woman despite it, we still exchange letters on certain Navarre paintings that cross her path once a blue moon.” he turned towards her with a coy smile.

“My point however is you truly never know what fate will pull towards or away from you, the only certainty for a lack of better wording is the inevitability of death and all that comes with it. We've both lived enough life to acknowledge that much, and I'm sorry for my lack of poor phrasing earlier.” his body naturally gravitating towards her as he spoke.

“You shouldn't be apologizing for anything, given my childish behavior up to present time I think I should be the one on their knees groveling.” she mused, a familiar teasing edge slipping into her tone.

“While my memory savours the time you spent down on your knees for me darling, I am regretful to be the voice of reason and say this may not be the best time.” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he glances between her eyes and lips slowly.

To say the breath escaped her lungs would be an understatement, as she stared up at him wide eyed entranced by his hazed over gaze.

A sly grin is what he's met with as she regains her senses, “Since when have you cared about reasonable times and places? Or am I remembering our time pressed against the ‘Love in Life and Death’ statue incorrectly?” her hand comes to cup his cheek tentatively, eyes scanning his for any hesitation or reluctance.

Here she finds only a longing smile and a warm hand pressed against hers as he draws her closer.

“I wouldn't dare, be certain the true event was even more remarkable than your memory allows,” he pauses momentarily to bring his face just shy of her lips as he stares her down diligently. “I would however be so bold as to say that whatever you've committed to memory I can readily assure the present reality would surpass even your most vivid recollections.”

Her hand trailed down his neck slowly to his collar pin, undoing it with an ease that can only be chalked to muscle memory as her nose nudged his.

“Such pretty words for such a vulgar sentime-” she began but the creak of the door opening snapped them both away from one another just as quickly as they were drawn in.

“Hey mom you'll never guess who came through the-” Edwin stared at the scene before him with a brief flash of confusion then mortification at the way they looked away from each other. Emmrich's crossed legs and his mother's fidgeting of her hair only sinking the horror deeper.

“Makers tits, nope- NOPE.” Quickly he turned on his heel to yell over the banister, “ILIY, NEXT TIME YOU'RE GOING THROUGH THE DOOR FIRST I REFUSE TO LET THEM RUIN SEX FOR ME”

Following a sign from Hyacinth, a loud snort and hiss echoed from the ground floor that caused Emmrich head to rapidly whip towards.

“Truly you never change do you, Eds?” a unfamiliar voice spoke much to Emmrich's delight and Hyacinth elation as they both bolt upright out the door. There by a very interested Manfred stood what Emmrich could only describe for a lack of a better wording to be, a hyper feminine version of himself poised comfortable on the landing.

[infizero]

i was so confident in transfem cloud before but now realizing he had long hair and a conspiciously high-pitched/androgynous voice as a kid.... i call a truce with the transmasc cloud believers. i get it

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Chapter 11 - Blue Christmas

Summary: It's a Christmas miracle.

Word count: ~4,800

If you like, you can also read here at A03.

Graceland in December was a sight that stopped traffic. Literally. Cars lined up just to see the lights - thousands of blue bulbs transforming the mansion into something from a fairy tale. Even the famous gates sparkled, wreaths bigger than truck tires hanging from each side.

But inside, the magic felt hollow.

The garland felt heavy in my hands as I wound it around the banister, scratchy against my skin like all the questions I wasn't asking. Through the ceiling, I could hear him pacing. He'd been at it for hours, wearing a path in the carpet upstairs like he was trying to escape something. Or maybe someone. These days, it was getting harder to tell the difference.

"He won't come down," Vernon told me quietly as I helped him sort through boxes of ornaments. Elvis's mother's favorites were wrapped in tissue paper, delicate glass bells and angels she'd collected over the years. They felt fragile in my hands, like all the promises that had started to wear thin. "Been up there since yesterday. Won't eat. Won't talk to nobody."

Great. One of those moods. The kind that usually ended with broken furniture and the Memphis Mafia scrambling to replace whatever Elvis had decided needed redecorating via karate chop.

The Christmas special he was meant to record next week hung over everything like a storm cloud. I tried not to think about how many times we'd been here before, how many promises had faded into Memphis air. Six months in this town, and what did I have to show for it? A man who wouldn't file his divorce papers and a growing suspicion that I was the biggest fool this side of the Mississippi.

The kitchen sounded like a henhouse with stage fright - all clucking tongues and whispered judgments barely disguised as holiday cheer. Patsy Lacker was at the counter rolling out sugar cookie dough like she had a personal vendetta against flour, while Joan Esposito perched on a stool nearby, watching everything with those sharp little eyes that never missed a chance to draw blood.

It was funny, really, how differently the men and women of Elvis's world treated me. The Memphis Mafia had adopted me like a kid sister - teaching me their secret handshakes, including me in their pranks, making sure I always had someone watching my back. But their wives? That was another story entirely. They lived in a careful hierarchy, like church pews arranged by seniority, and my presence had disrupted their whole order. After all, being Elvis's girl put you right at the top, whether you wanted it or not. Only Patsy seemed immune to the politics of it all. The others maintained a careful distance, their loyalty to Priscilla like a wall I couldn't scale. Joan was the worst - her devotion to "poor Cilla" practically a religion. Even Pat West, Red's wife, kept things cordially arctic, like we were diplomats from opposing countries forced to share the same embassy.

"The decorations look lovely," Joan said, her voice dripping sweet as artificial honey. "Almost like a real family Christmas."

And there it was. The knife, sliding in smooth between my ribs. Because that's what I wasn't, wasn't it? Real family. I was just the Chicago girl who'd wandered into Elvis Presley's orbit and forgotten how gravity worked.

"Thanks," I managed, focusing on hanging a silver bell that probably cost more than my first car. "Vernon picked out most of it."

"Oh, I'm sure he did." Joan's smile could have curdled milk. "Though I hear we'll have help with the rest of the decorating soon enough."

I turned, something cold settling in my stomach. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard?" Her eyes went wide with practiced innocence. "Oh dear, I thought surely someone would have told you. Priscilla's flying in for Christmas. She called this morning to discuss the arrangements."

The bell slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a sound like breaking promises. I watched it roll under the cabinet, unable to move, unable to breathe. The room tilted sideways, gravity doing funny things again. Around me, the kitchen seemed to shrink, the air going thick as molasses. Even Patsy's steady rolling pin fell silent.

"Joan." Patsy's voice cut through the fog, sharp as a slap. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

But I was already moving, my feet carrying me away from Joan's satisfied smirk, away from Patsy's concerned eyes, away from the truth I should have seen coming. The storeroom door closed behind me with a soft click, and then I was sliding down the wall, my knees finally giving up the fight with reality.

You ever have one of those moments when your whole world rearranges itself, like someone just flipped the record over and now everything's playing backward? That's what this felt like. All those nights Elvis had spent talking about 'someday' and 'soon' and 'when things settle down' - they crumbled like winter frost in the Tennessee sun.

The first sob caught me by surprise, tearing out of my throat like it had been waiting there all along. The second brought friends. By the third, I was full-on ugly crying, the kind that would have my mascara looking like it had tried to escape down my face.

"Oh, honey." The voice belonged to Sophie, though I hadn't heard her come in. She knelt beside me, not touching, just being there. Sometimes that's all you need - someone to witness your world falling apart.

"I'm such an idiot," I managed between hiccups. "All those promises, and I actually believed..."

"You're not an idiot," Sophie said firmly. "Men got a way of making you believe in fairy tales. Trust me, we've all been there."

"Not like this." I wiped my eyes, probably making the mascara situation worse. "I actually thought... God, I don't even know what I thought. That he'd leave her? File for divorce? Pick me?"

Sophie didn't answer right away. Above us, Elvis' footsteps continued their restless dance, like he was trying to walk away from something he couldn't escape. I knew the feeling.

"You wanna know the truth?" Sophie's voice was gentle but firm. "He probably loves you. Lord knows I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. But Mr. Elvis... he's like one of those fancy antique music boxes. Beautiful to look at, makes the prettiest sounds, but something inside is broken. Has been for a long time."

I laughed, but it came out more like a sob. "Great. So I'm in love with a broken music box who's about to play happy family with his wife for Christmas. Think Woolworth's sells cards for that?"

Sophie helped me fix my face before heading back out - a lost cause if there ever was one, but at least now I looked less like a raccoon that had lost a fistfight with its mascara. The kitchen had cleared out, thank God and all His angels. Even Joan had found somewhere else to spread her particular brand of Christmas cheer.

But the calm didn't last long. Around six, the storm hit wearing Chanel No. 5 and a fur coat that probably cost more than my yearly salary back in Chicago.

"Oh!" Ann Beaulieu's voice carried from the foyer like a perfectly pitched arrow. "Vernon, the decorations are simply lovely. Almost like old times."

Almost like old times. There was that word again - almost. Story of my life lately. Almost good enough, almost family, almost the one he'd choose.

I tried to make myself scarce, I really did. But at Graceland, there's no such thing as invisible. Not when you're the other woman. Not when every step you take echoes with whispers about whose bed you warm at night. Not when Elvis Presley's mother-in-law can smell her daughter's side of the bed on your skin.

Ann's smile could have frozen hell over. "How... enterprising of you to help with the decorations." Her eyes swept over me like she was calculating exactly how many Hail Marys it would take to cleanse the house of my presence. "Though I'm sure my Cilla will want to make some changes when she arrives. She never did like so much tinsel."

The thing about being hit by a truck is that at least it's quick. This? This was like death by a thousand perfectly manicured paper cuts.

"Mrs. Beaulieu." I managed what I hoped passed for a smile. "I was just finishing up."

"Oh, don't leave on my account." Her voice dripped false sweetness. "It’s nice having… everyone here.”

Above us, the pacing stopped. In the sudden silence, you could almost hear the sound of my heart cracking. Or maybe that was just another Christmas ornament hitting the floor - I'd lost count of how many I'd dropped since Joan's little bombshell.

That's when Red appeared, looking like he'd rather face down an angry mob than be stuck in this particular moment. "Boss wants to see you," he told me quietly. "Says it's important."

Ann's stare burned into my back as I headed for the stairs, each step feeling like a walk of shame. The word "whore" might as well have been painted on my forehead in neon. These were the stairs I climbed every night to his bed - our secret mapped out in carpet fibers and creaking wood. Now, with Ann's eyes following my ascent, I could barely keep my lunch down. The taste of bile mixed with the lingering sweetness of the candy cane I'd been nervously sucking on earlier, making my stomach roll.

My hands trembled as I reached his door. When I wasn't around the wives, when it was just Elvis and me, everything felt right. Natural. Like breathing. But under Ann's gaze, every step felt dirty. Every touch we'd shared seemed tainted. And still, God help me, I wanted him. Even now, even with shame burning my cheeks and judgment following my footsteps, my body hummed with anticipation of seeing him.

"Get in here," he said when I knocked, his voice rough around the edges. Whatever he took was wearing off, then. Perfect timing, as always.

Elvis stood by the window, still wearing yesterday's clothes, tension rolling off him in waves. The room smelled like cologne and something sharper - whatever Dr. Nick had last prescribed to keep the demons at bay. Even disheveled, even strung out, he was beautiful enough to stop my heart. That was the real curse of loving Elvis Presley - he could look like heaven while leading you straight to hell.

"Your mother-in-law's here," I said, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile. "Really spreading holiday cheer, that one."

He didn't laugh. Didn't even turn around. Just kept staring out at all those blue lights like they held answers to questions he wasn't ready to ask.

"When were you gonna tell me?" The words came out steadier than I felt. "About her coming home for Christmas. Or was I supposed to find out from Joan's helpful little announcement in front of God and everybody?"

His shoulders tensed, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "It ain't what you think."

"No?" I laughed, but it came out all wrong. "Then please, Elvis, tell me what it is. Because from where I'm standing, it looks an awful lot like you're playing both sides of the record."

"The Colonel thinks–"

"Oh, the Colonel thinks?" Now the laugh was real, but it had edges sharp enough to cut. "Well, that makes everything better. Tell me, does the Colonel think about how it feels to help decorate a Christmas tree for another woman's homecoming? Does he think about how it feels to be the fool who believed all those pretty lies about 'soon' and 'just a little longer'?"

He turned then, those blue eyes darker than usual. Even angry - especially angry - he was devastating. His silk shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing that triangle of chest hair that never failed to make my mouth go dry. Six months, and still the sight of him could knock the air from my lungs.

"They weren't lies," he said, voice dropping to that dangerous register that always made heat pool low in my belly.

"Really? Because those divorce papers are still sitting in your drawer, gathering dust like all your other broken promises."

Something flickered across his face - guilt maybe, or just annoyance at being called out. He moved closer, and Lord help me, my body responded like it always did. That's the thing about desire - it doesn't care about broken hearts or wounded pride. It just wants what it wants.

"C'mere," he said, his voice pure velvet now. When I didn't move, he reached for my arm. "Valley, baby, let me explain–"

I jerked away. "Don't 'Valley baby' me. Not now. Not when your wife is flying in to act like I'm not even here while I've been doing everything around here, thinking–"

His hands caught me then, spinning me toward the bathroom. The door slammed behind us, and suddenly we were face to face in front of that damned mirror - the one that had witnessed too many of his mood swings, too many of Dr. Nick's "solutions," too many moments when Elvis Presley tried to recognize himself behind his own eyes.

"Look," he growled, his hands gripping my shoulders. His chest pressed against my back, solid and warm, and I could feel his heart hammering through both our clothes. "Look at us."

I did. God help me, I did. He loomed over me like some beautiful avenging angel, all wild eyes and barely contained energy. His height made me feel small, delicate - exactly the kind of woman I'd never wanted to be. But my body had other ideas. Every point of contact between us felt electric. His hands on my shoulders. His breath on my neck. The solid weight of him pressed against me, making promises I knew he wouldn't keep.

"You see that?" His voice was rough, desperate. One hand slid down my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "You see how right this is? How right we are?"

My own reflection looked like a stranger - cheeks flushed, eyes too bright, lipstick smeared from where I'd been biting my lip. My chest rose and fell too quickly, betraying how much I wanted this, wanted him, even now. We looked like what we were: a disaster waiting to happen. A tragedy dressed up in silk and perfume.

"All I see," I said, my voice shaking, "is a man who won't choose. Who keeps one foot in the past while promising me a future that'll never happen."

His hands tightened on my shoulders. "You don't understand–"

"Then make me understand!" I tried to turn but he held me firm, keeping me facing our reflection. "Make me understand why you signed those papers but won't file them. Why you tell me you love me but won't let her go. Why you're letting your wife come home for Christmas while I skulk around like a–like some common whore!"

"God damn it, woman," he growled, his lips brushing my ear. His chest hair tickled my neck where my sweater had slipped, and I couldn't help the small sound that escaped me. One of his hands slid lower, spanning my waist, pulling me tighter against him. "Tell me this isn't worth fighting for."

We did look right together, that was the hell of it. His dark beauty a perfect contrast to my softer features. Even our clothes seemed to complement each other - his green silk shirt against my red sweater, like some Christmas card from hell. But it was more than that. It was the way we fit, like two pieces of a puzzle nobody else could solve. His height made me feel delicate without making me feel weak. My curves softened his sharp edges. Even our breathing had synchronized, like our bodies knew something our hearts were too scared to admit.

"Stop it," I whispered, but my resolve was crumbling like sugar in rain. His hands were everywhere now, possessive, demanding, making promises his heart never seemed to keep. One slipped beneath my sweater, his rings cold against my overheated skin, and I arched into his touch despite myself.

The kiss, when it came, was violent. All teeth and tongues and months of complications. I bit his lip hard enough to hurt, tasting copper, and he growled - actually growled - spinning me around to press me against the sink. His hips pinned me in place, and Lord help me, I could feel exactly what I did to him. What he did to me.

His hands tangled in my hair, tugging my head back to expose my throat. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough as gravel. "Fighting this like you don't want it just as bad as I do."

For one heated moment, I let myself forget everything. Joan's smirk, Ann's contempt, the pile of unsigned divorce papers that represented every broken promise between us. I let myself get lost in the feeling of his mouth on my neck, his hands possessive on my hips, the solid weight of him pressing me into the counter. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt, needing to touch, to claim, to prove something I couldn't quite name.

But then I caught our reflection again - me, disheveled and wanting, him, beautiful and impossibly distant even in this intimate moment. Reality crashed back like a bucket of ice water.

"No." This time when I pushed him away, I meant it. "I’m not gonna be your dirty secret anymore."

I fled the bathroom on shaking legs, my lipstick smeared across my mouth like evidence of a crime. In the bedroom, I grabbed my purse, needing to be anywhere but here. My skin still tingled where he'd touched me, and I hated myself for wanting more. For always wanting more.

"Valerie, wait–"

"For what?" I whirled to face him. The sight of him nearly undid my resolve - shirt half-unbuttoned, hair mussed from my hands, that look in his eyes that always made me weak. "For her to come home? For you to finally make up your mind? For hell to freeze over?"

His face twisted with something that might have been pain, but I was done trying to read the emotions behind those beautiful eyes. Done trying to decode every expression, every gesture, every cotton candy promise.

"I'm going home," I said, my voice steady despite everything. "To Chicago. Where I belong."

My hands shook as I threw clothes into my suitcase, not caring what got wrinkled or crushed. A pair of boots tumbled from the top shelf of the closet - the ones Elvis had bought me last month, soft brown leather that probably cost more than three months' rent back home. They landed at my feet like an accusation, and the memory hit me like a physical blow: his face lighting up as I tried them on, the way he'd knelt to help me with the buckles, how he'd kissed his way up my leg afterward until I forgot about everything but him.

I kicked them aside, ignoring the sting of tears.

"Going somewhere?"

I spun around to find Jerry in the doorway, his face a mask of carefully controlled concern. Asking me that question would get him in trouble with the boss, I knew, but Jerry always did have a soft spot for me. Behind him, I could hear the sounds of Graceland settling into evening - distant Christmas carols, the clatter of dishes, Ann Beaulieu's voice carrying up from below like smoke.

"Chicago," I said, shoving another sweater into the already overstuffed bag. "Before I completely lose what's left of my dignity."

"Val..." He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His eyes took in my smeared makeup, my trembling hands, the chaos I was making of my packing. "At least wait until morning. Weather's turning bad, and–"

"If I stay until morning, I'll never leave." I yanked the zipper closed with enough force to break it. "And we both know I gotta leave."

Jerry was quiet for a moment, watching me try to lift the suitcase with shaking hands. Finally, he sighed. "Let me drive you to the airport."

"I can manage."

"Wasn't asking." He took the suitcase from me with gentle firmness. "Plus, someone's gotta make sure you don't turn that Mustang into a Christmas wreck. You're shaking worse than Elvis after three cups of coffee."

He really was risking his hide. I had to let him.

The drive to the airport was silent except for the rhythmic swish of windshield wipers battling the freezing rain. Memphis looked different somehow - all those gaudy Christmas lights blurred by weather and tears I refused to let fall. Each mile put more distance between me and Graceland, but I could still feel Elvis's hands on my skin, still taste him on my lips. Still see his reflection behind mine in that damned mirror.

"He's gonna come after you, you know," Jerry said finally, as we pulled up to the departure terminal.

"No," I said, staring at the airport's glowing signs through the rain-streaked windshield. "He won't. He's got what he really wants coming home for Christmas."

Jerry helped me with my bags, then surprised me by pulling me into a bear hug. "You're good people, Val. Don't let this place make you forget that."

Two hours later, I was on a plane bound for Chicago, watching Memphis disappear beneath the clouds. Somewhere down there, in a mansion wrapped in blue lights, Elvis Presley was probably still staring out his window, waiting for his wife to come home.

*

Deena's Christmas party was in full swing by the time I arrived, her little apartment strung with multicolored lights that made it look like a carnival had thrown up all over her living room. Back home less than six hours, and already Memphis felt like some fever dream I'd finally woken up from. Like maybe I'd imagined it all - the mansion, the music, the way Elvis had looked at me in that bathroom mirror just hours ago.

"Val!" She squealed, pulling me into a hug that smelled like sugar cookies and cheap wine. "You made it! Though you look like hell warmed over."

"Thanks." I managed a weak smile. "Just what every girl wants to hear."

"Oh honey." She steered me toward the kitchen, where a punch bowl full of something violently red held court. "Here. This'll help. It's mostly rum, which seems like what you need right now."

The party spun around me in a blur of familiar faces and questions I wasn't ready to answer. Our old crowd from the jazz clubs, college friends, some neighbors, a few of Deena's cousins - all of them trying very hard not to stare at the woman who'd run away with Elvis Presley and lived to tell.

"So..." Deena's cousin Marie sidled up, eyes bright with curiosity. "Is it true? About you and... you know..."

"Marie!" Deena shot her a warning look, but the damage was done. The floodgates opened.

"What's he really like?"

"Is Graceland really as big as they say?"

"Does he actually eat those peanut butter and banana sandwiches?"

"Is his hair really that black?"

"How many Cadillacs are there really?"

"Did you meet Priscilla?"

That last one, from someone in the back, hit like a slap. The room got quiet fast, everyone suddenly very interested in their drinks.

"He's nice," I said finally, the words tasting like ash. "And he's just a man. Just a man who..." I couldn't finish. Couldn't find the words to explain how someone could be both everything you ever wanted and everything that could destroy you.

The party lurched on like a record with a skip in it - moments of almost-normal interrupted by sudden, jarring reminders. Every time someone mentioned Vegas or Memphis or music, the room would get quiet, everyone stealing glances my way like I might shatter.

"But what about–" Marie started again, but Tommy from the jazz circuit cut her off.

"Remember that time at the Blue Note?" Deena jumped in, grateful for the change of subject. She looked ot be about three glasses of punch in and determined to drag me out of my funk. "When that guy kept hitting on you and you told him you only dated men who could sing better than you?"

"And then he tried to sing 'My Way' and sounded like a cat in a blender," Tommy added, grinning.

Despite myself, I laughed. The punch was starting to help, or maybe it was just being home, surrounded by people who knew me before I became 'Elvis's girl.' People who remembered when I was just Val from the jazz clubs. Val the weekend music teacher to underprivileged kids.

Tommy had brought his guitar, and somehow we'd ended up having an impromptu sing-along. Christmas songs morphed into old standards, and for a while, I could almost pretend the last six months had been some elaborate dream. My voice felt rusty but real - no Vegas glitter required.

"Do 'Blue Christmas!" someone called out.

"No Elvis songs!" Deena shouted back, but I was already shaking my head.

"It's fine." I took another swig of punch. "I can handle a little Christmas music without falling apart."

"Atta girl," Tommy said, starting the opening chords.

It felt good, singing without all that weight. No Colonel watching from the wings, no pressure to be perfect, no eyes following my every move. Just friends and music and enough rum to make the edges soft. I was hamming it up, perching on Tommy's knee while he played, making everyone laugh with my exaggerated wiggle.

"See?" Deena nudged me after we finished. "You still got it. Chicago's been missing you something fierce. Those Memphis folks can sit on it and rotate…”

"Speaking of Memphis," Marie started, but this time it was my turn to cut her off.

"Yes, his hair really is that nice. Yes, he has more cars than God. Yes, the peanut butter and banana sandwiches are real. Yes, I’ve met Priscilla.” I winced at that one. “And yes–" I took another drink, feeling reckless, "he's exactly as pretty as everyone says he is. Probably prettier."

The room erupted in laughter and whistles. Someone called out, "Details! We need details!"

"Oh no," Deena waggled her finger. "No kiss and tell in my house. Besides--"

"Shhh!" Marie suddenly shouted from the couch. "Everyone shut up! Look who's on TV!"

The room went quiet as death. There he was - my Elvis, standing in front of Graceland's gates. He looked tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that even TV makeup couldn't hide. Behind him, those damn Christmas lights made everything look underwater.

"Turn it up!" someone called.

The music cut out, replaced by a breaking news bulletin. The room went quiet as the announcer's voice filled the space:

"In entertainment news tonight, sources confirm that Elvis Presley has officially filed for divorce from wife Priscilla. The papers, filed earlier this week in Memphis, cite irreconcilable differences. This comes as a surprise to many, especially given reports that Mrs. Presley was expected to return to Graceland for the holidays..."

The punch cup slipped from my numb fingers, shattering on Deena's linoleum floor in a splash of red that looked like blood. Someone gasped. Someone else whispered "Holy shit."

"Val?" Deena's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Honey, you okay?"

But I couldn't answer. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. On the TV screen, photos of Elvis and Priscilla flashed by - their wedding, public appearances, that last photo from Vegas. And there, in the corner, a smaller headline scrolling: "Sources suggest new relationship with Chicago singer may have precipitated split."

"Oh my God," Marie whispered. "Val, did you know?"

No. No, I hadn't known. I'd run away thinking... but he'd already... and Priscilla was coming home to...

"I need some air," I managed, pushing through the crowd of stunned faces. Behind me, I could hear Deena trying to maintain order, but the room had erupted into chaos.

"Give her space!" "Did you see his face when-" "The papers said earlier this week-" "That's why he let her go today-"

On her tiny balcony, the Chicago winter bit at my face, but I barely felt it. All I could think about was Elvis, alone in that blood-warm Memphis night, watching me drive away. All I could hear was his voice: "You don't understand-"

And I hadn't understood. Not at all.

The worst part? He'd finally done the right thing, and I hadn't trusted him enough to wait and see. I'd run away just when he was finally ready to choose me.

Inside, I could hear the TV still going, dissecting the biggest entertainment story of the year. But all I could think about was a Christmas tree in Graceland, wrapped in blue lights that probably looked a lot like tears right about now.

Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit  @ellie-24  @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain  @be-my-ally  @vintageshanny  @prompted-wordsmith @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather  @atleastpleasetelephone @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @therealslimshakespeare @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @eapep @elvispresleywife @that-hotdog @landlockedmermaid77 @sissylittlefeather @kawaiiwitchy @eapep @iloveelvisss @argangelbornxoxo

[sapphire-weapon]

and something that you always gotta keep in mind about me is

i grew up in a completely different era of the internet and of fandom than you all did.

when i was up and coming in fandom, the internet was mostly young men and boys. not just in fandom -- but everywhere on the internet. i very much grew up in a man's world in a way that gen z did not.

my earliest fandoms were DBZ, FF7, warcraft, RE, and DMC -- all of which were controlled exclusively by men and men's voices. even the feminine pockets of fandom -- the shipping parts of fandom -- were dominated by male discourse. clerith vs cloti ship wars back in the day used to take the form of proving which of the girls was more of a slut and a damsel-in-distress (and therefore worthless) -- who was more deserving to be with cloud.

so, from a very young age, i had to cultivate a very masculine presence online. i had to meet those guys where they were at -- i couldn't expect them to cater or conform to me.

it was actually very relieving for me when that presence had reached a point where people reflexively referred to me as "he." i never corrected them; i didn't dare to. because being a woman in those male-dominated spaces meant that those guys threw everything you said out the window and you got sexually harassed until you shut up and went away.

i mean i even went all the way through college refusing to get on voice chat in public game lobbies because i knew i'd get kicked the second someone heard a feminine voice. people who have known me for years like @godtier and @theggning and @friedesgreatscythe and @feelboss can confirm this.

you guys grew up in an era where slash ships are the majority, queer fans and women are the majority, "problematic ships" are a thing people are concerned about, and no one bats an eye at trans headcanons.

i grew up in an era where the N-word was commonplace, women in fandom spaces were told to get back in the kitchen, queer fans were damn near driven to suicide, and ship wars literally had discourse in them like (and i quote) "yuffie dresses that way.... to piss off her dad. tifa dresses that way.... because she's a slut."

so what i am today is the culmination of decades of existing in a space where i had to mirror and mimic millennial and gen x dudebros in their attitude, demeanor, and vernacular -- just to be heard. just to have a fucking conversation with people without it spiraling into "so do you do anal?"

i still have my deeply held very liberal, very feminist, very progressive values.

but i'm just never going to be the all-welcoming Customer Service internet personality that gen z is.

i'm gonna be that guy who comes off as arrogant sometimes and tells anon i sucked their dad's cock last night. because that's who i've always had to be. and part of me doesn't even really want to change, because it's a part of who i am, it's a mark of what i've been through, and maybe i can use it to help you guys navigate through an old fandom that grew up exactly as i did.

[the-crystal-one]

Nicest Kids in Town!

~Baltimore 1960~

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, MotorMouth Maybelle was in her kitchen whipping up breakfast for the three lights of her life: Seaweed, Inez, and Sandra.

"Now I know y'all ain't still sleepin' , we got a big day ahead of us!" Maybelle called out as she began to set the table. Footsteps came from the backroom, all different patterns. The first being heavy but smooth, Seaweed appeared as dapper as usual and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Aw come on now mama, you know you can't rush perfection."

"Which is why she told you to hurry up." A higher voice came up behind him, Inez, the youngest. Seaweed turned his head to mock her and crouched, threatening to chase her.

"Now you two cut it out, Mama is tryin' to cook for y'all, sit down somewhere." A soft, musical voice came into the jumble of the kitchen. Sandra Stubbs, the oldest of the three sat in her usual spot while she watched her siblings follow suit. Maybelle sauntered over to her eldest and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Good mornin' suga, you gon' leave ya hair like that for the day?" She motioned to the robust head of hair, shaped into a puff that sat wide and proud on her daughter's shoulders. Sandra shook her head, sipping the previously placed water, "No ma'am. Don't you worry, I'll have it nice and laid down for you all nice for the show." You see, Sandra knew what to say to ease her mother's mind, but she was also at the age where she could express herself the way she wanted. She would leave her hair up and out for school, then quickly slick it back in an "acceptable" manner in time for their debut.

"Well, as long as you're sure, now you three eat up, the bus will be here in a little." Maybelle laid the plate of bacon, waffles and brown sugar oatmeal on the table.

~A couple of minutes later~

"And don't forget, the show starts at-" Maybelle started as her children entered the not so sturdy looking bus, "We know ma'!" The three exclaimed back as the doors closed. Upon entering, Seaweed was greeted by other boys with loud exclamations, slaps on the palm and pats on the back. Inez was greeted by other girls with squeals of excitement and heavy waves. Sandra was greeted by both females and males with the same phrase, "Hey Saucy!" or "Oh here comes Ms.Saucy!"

Sandra scoffed at them and waved them off, offering some waves here and there, knowing that they were all just having fun. "Saucy? Why Saucy?" Well, Sandra is one of the smoothest singers on the South side of Baltimore. Women and men alike could sit around her for hours on end, listening to her melodic voice hypnotize their troubles away. Her voice came out so smooth is was like silk- no, Sauce. Hence the name, Saucy.

Once they had finally arrived to school, each and every child filed out of the bus, entering the building from the backdoor. Sandra's mood went from Cloud Nine to rock bottom. She hated how they were all treated, just because of their skin. There wasn't much she could do but grin and bear it, as she did so she walked to class. But it wouldn't be in true Stubbs' fashion to walk into the dull place of learning without trying to liven up the moods of her literal and metaphorical brothers and sister. So what did she do?

"I've got sunshiiiiine, on a cloudy day~," She started as she practically floated down the hallway, "When it's cold outside,I've got the month of May,~" Seaweed turned his head away from his friends to see his sister, in her usual chipper mood, "Girl you betta stop." She grabbed the hand of her brother and began to dance with him, "Come on baby brother, sing witcha sister." She looked into his eyes and smiled widely. "Wh-...fine Fine! WeEELL! I guess you'd say What can make me feel this way?" He spun his sister in a circle and seemingly everyone's mood lifted up, but not higher than Sandra's.

"MY GIIIIIRL MY GIRL, MY GIRL!! TALKIN BOUT MYYYYY GIIIIIIRL." The hallway erupted with voices, on and off key, high and low.

Sandra did a small riff before hearing the school bell ring and released her brother, hip bumping him, "3:00 little brother." She stepped into a classroom only to be met with one of her teachers, "Ms.Stubbs, you are late, that is a detention." He began to write her a slip. "Oh Mr.Ichbad, I was just outside with my brother, we did have to walk all the way around to get to our door on account of-" He didn't speak another word, but he did manage to shove that slip into her hand. She had just started her day, not even sitting in her seat yet, and received a detention.

'Well...that's a way to start a Monday.' she thought to herself as she strolled back into the hallway, making her way to the detention room.

(ALLLL RIGHTY, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!!) ~Chapter 2~

[the-queerview]

Churails (2020)

by Asim Abbasi

Churails is a pakistani drama web series directed by Asim Abbasi for the indian entertainment channel Zindagi.

The series deals with four maincharacters, Zubaida, who is a college student and a secret boxer, who lives with her muslim, conservative family.Sara, who is a rich housewife of a politcian and an ex lawyer, Jugnu, an elite wedding planner and Batool, who just currently was released out of prison for killing her husband with an iron. Those four women connect trough different circumstances after Sara finds out her husband Jamil was cheating on her. She starts a burka store called halal designs, which runs undercover a cheating husband exposing bizniz. They find a time of other women for their bizniz and together they deal with their intense cases, one including a cannibal housewife. Together they are Churails, which means witches in urdu. چڑیل

The pace of the series is very fast. Many unexpected and expected stories happen under the churails. I haven't seen a show in a while with such intense story telling. Within short time as an audience you develop a good base of the character development. There is trans representation within the show and even LESBIANS.

Besides the complex society and class rules within their life and the personal dramas intertwined, the series is also dealing with colonial past, lgbtqia* issues, misogyny and racism within pakistani society ( I assume? I never been to Pakistan, so I can't tell actually, but within this show all those struggles are addressed) Abbasi said about including baby doll : "The fact that she’s transgender is not addressed on the show and that is deliberate. It’s not that I was overlooking her identity or ashamed of it. It was to show the women coming to the agency were all equal.” The title of the show literally translates to mean witches, but is more commonly used as an insult for rebellious women. “The associations of women who don’t conform with witchcraft is a global phenomenon, but in Pakistan specifically, any woman who is sexually and emotionally liberated, who has the ability to be aggressive when threatened is called a churail. We are taking it as a badge of honour.”

I love this show a lot, since besides those awful and heartbreaking stories, the main reason to watch this show are the amazing female characters, the friendship between those women and their will to fight injustice. They are kind of superheros I would say. Also I was very surprised by a positive depicition of men, who are part of the churails and help them to solve their cases, to do something right. I think it's important to show solidarity between gender depictions within a tv show for a possible utopia? Like call me out if I'm wrong but usually its women* playing supportive roles in a all men cast, we saw it many many times. But here the guys are the enemies, but as well there are supportive characters? So show a different path to follow.

Unfortunately the show was banned in Pakistan and many celebrities voices their anger about the canceling of the show.

Considering writing about this show, since it's not made by a queer of female director I had my issues. After researching deeper into the revolutionary cloud of this show, i find out its the first lesbian on screen show ever in Pakistan. in an interview with the guardian Abbasi said: “While we aren’t where we should be in terms of diversity, we have to start somewhere and adaptations are culturally rich,” said Abbasi. “You could say that Churails should have been made by a woman, but those opportunities aren’t there for women in Pakistan yet so I want to be an ally so their stories can be told.”

So I hope you guys forgive me, but I feel like it's worth to see all those actresses and this amazing story and yeah we are all in this together. <3 Cuz at the end of the day, i love the power of image making. I learn trough visual language about language ( literally speaking three languages daily I need to see a picture in my head if you talk to me).

Also I promise for my next review to write about a kazakhstani film, since i feel like many things in the show I couldn't understand out of lack of cultural knowledge, so it's time to write about something that I might be able to understand. And still I think it's very important to show my chapeau for this show. What a ride. Literally i was crying like many times. The actresses and actors were out of league. Like I was actually waiting daily from my moneyjobs to come home to see what the churails are fighting next.

ok by

cheery,

the queeeerview heheheh

[vampzxi]

music recs?

omg. kisses whoever asked me this. i have a bunch of music so just walk with me here. i'll sort it because i have so many recs um. im very passionate about this hollon (kpop is at the bottom bc i know not everyone listens to it...im not a kpoppie guys i swea)

hip hop

count me out - kendrick lamar (literally my most listened to artist, i saw him live a few months ago. i love that man) (when i saw letitia post herself to this song i literally exploded im not even playing)

anything by SMINO (none of my friends listen to him but he is truly my fav hip hop/r&b artist)

ringleader man - t pain (he can sing his ass off, okay.)

vent -baby keem

three man weave - injury reserve

PRIDE. - kendrick lamar

swimming pools - kendrick lamar

litterally ANYTHING by ice spice (i am a munch.)

CORSO - tyler, the creator

collard greens - schoolboy Q (my mom would play this every day when she dropped me off at school in 3rd grade,,,its ingrained in me)

???? - bktherula (yes that is the song name) (that woman is so fucking fine.)

cold - rico nasty

realer - megan thee stallion (wife.)

ftn - hook (hook is an amazing artist, no skips)

super bass - nicki minaj (listen...this used to be my shit)

r&b/soul (fav category)

how many drinks? - miguel (i was gonna write a shuriri fic on this)

moonlight - kali uchis (i love love love kali uchis like you're gonna have to pry her from my cold dead hands.)

i want war (but i need peace) - kali uchis

fue mejor - kali uchis and SZA

terrified - childish gambino

sure thing - miguel

he's mine - mokenstef (i was also gonna write a shuriri fic on this...)

distraction - kehlani (despite not listening to her much this song always gets stuck in my head when i'm on the phone with @letitias-fav LMAO)

wild irish roses - SMINO (my boy...)

ALL MINE. - brent faiyaz (comphet crush...)

the sweetest taboo - sade (throwback but her voice is beautiful)

clouded - brent faiyaz

candy - doja cat

come on - jhene aiko (my first fic was to this song)

SZA's entire Ctrl album (a masterpiece)

anything by The Internet!! (please listen to them. they deserve more recognition)

PRBLMS - 6LACK

blame it - jamie foxx (listen....)

just a stranger - kali uchis

after the storm - kali uchis

girls need love - summer walker

like a tattoo - sade

to zion - lauryn hill (my mom named me after this song :3)

4 page letter - aaliyah

alternative

liquid smooth - mitski (literally about how women in society have an "expiration date", referring to beauty standards, and she's begging someone to take her before she "expires". i love this woman)

brand new city - mitski

carnage - jazmin bean (her and mitski shouldnt be in the same category but wtv...)

security! - ekko2k (kind of a joke because i jokingly told my friend i like men moaning in my ear and he gave me this song LMFAOOO)

feel good inc. -gorillaz

come home - willow smith (her music is beautiful)

the louvre - lorde (i love lorde)

akasaka sad - rina sawayama

caraphernelia - pierce the veil (i was going thru a lot when i was 12 ok.)

money machine - 100 gecs (i like how disorganized their music is...and i know this is from 2020 leave me alone)

ringtone - 100 gecs feat. charli XCX

kpop

disclaimer! i am not heavily involved in kpop communities because some of you niggas are CRAZY!! please don't jump me for my taste, i love my life. i am a casual listener.

heart attack - chuu (i love chuu)

love cherry motion - choerry

nxde (G)I-DLE

naughty - red velvet (LOONA and red velvet are my top 2)

kingdom come - red velvet (beautiful vocals)

russian roulette - red velvet

birthday - red velvet

BYE BYE - red velvet

feel my rhytm - red velvet

beg for me - red velvet

28 reasons - seulgi

tinnitus (wanna be a rock) - TXT (its afrobeats okay..)

i have SOOOOOO much more so if anyone wants a playlist just say the word. i didnt even include my afrobeats in here bc i didnt want it to be too long HAHAHA. but i LOVEE music. please let me know if you listen to any of these! and PLEASEEE give me more music to listen to! i'm always looking for recs <3

[hgranger93493]

Content: Part 1.

Summary: You are getting ready to be married in a week. Everything will go smoothly, right?

Warnings: Angst, slight fluff, language.

Pairings: OC x reader; Sam x Jess; Dean x reader(eventually)

Wordcount: 5470

A/N: This will be a mini-series set in AU. Hopefully you'll like it.

------

You slide the door open to your balcony and stepped outside to get some fresh air. After today, you needed a couple of drinks with the fresh air. You sighed deeply and looked towards the dark sky as the clouds moved around the full moon. You kept playing with the pack of cigarettes in your hand and flicking the lighter off and on. You haven’t smoked since college. The last semester was stressful to you and picked up this habit for a few months. Not that it helped much, but you were on the verge of needing some relief today. You were startled when you heard a deep voice to your left.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Holy shit! You scared me.” You squeaked with your hand on your chest.

A deep chuckle left this person’s throat and the moonlight shined on their face at the same time.

“Dean? What are you doing here?”

Dean slowly got up from the patio chair and walked towards you. Dean visits his brother Sam once every month. You met him a few times since Sam moved next door a year ago. You, Sam, and Jess were friends from college. Although you all weren’t thick as thieves, you enjoyed their company from time to time. Having your both balconies side by side was fun. You hang out with them and have cookouts during summer and exchange dishes whenever possible. The main reason you didn’t hang out much with them was because of Matthew. Your fiancé. You met Matt during your freshman year and you both have been dating since sophomore year. Matt never liked Sam and Jess as they weren’t up to his “standards”, whatever that meant. So, all of you never ran in the same circles, but you hung out with Jess whenever possible.

Dean leaned on the short wall separating the balconies and smiled up at you.

“Just visiting Sam. Missed my little brother”

“Pssh! He ain’t little Dean.”

Dean laughed a little and eyed the cigarettes box in your hand as if asking the same question again.

“Yeah, I don’t smoke. Just needed something to relieve the stress.”

“Are you okay?”

It has been a while since someone asked that question. You really didn’t want to talk, but you didn’t want to be rude to Dean. He was always sweet and kind.

You sighed a little and replied “Just the stress of planning the wedding is getting to me.”

Dean cleared his throat and asked “Wanna talk about it?”

“Thanks Dean, but I don’t want to bother ya.”

“You are not a bother, sweetheart. I’m hear to listen if you need to vent.”

You put the cigarettes and the lighter aside and took a step towards him.

“Not sure where to start, but the ‘small’ wedding we were supposed to have turned out into a full-blown production.”

“Yessh, that does sound stressful. Anybody helping you with it?”

“Well, my fiancé was supposed to help me, but his mother took over the reigns for him and she wants nothing and everything in the wedding. Today we were at the cake tasting and she insisted on having a 5-tier cake and her favorite flavor. Who needs five tiers of cake? We went back and forth and she finally got her way like she always does.” You sighed a little after your vent. “Maybe it is something small, maybe I am over reacting”

“No, you are not, it is your wedding and you and your fiancé should have a final say. Not the monster-in-law to be.”

You chuckled a little at his jab at Matt’s mom. You never said it out loud, but she was indeed a monster. She sat you down after the engagement and brought you up to speed on how women in their family must keep their husbands first and told you the literal “rules” about having some traditions at the wedding. Since Matt was their only son, she wanted an extravagant wedding. You told her that you didn’t believe in spending all your life savings on one party. You wanted to save money as much as you can so you can use it for down payment on your future home. But she put her foot down and told you as a bride, your family and you need to do everything to make the wedding the best day of her son’s life. She knows your parents passed away when you were sixteen and she tries to make me feel like an orphan when an opportunity strikes. I mean who does that?

You were lost in thoughts when you heard Dean call you again.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm”

“You, okay?”

“Yeah, sorry I have a lot on my mind. With the wedding planning and budgeting”

“You don’t have to apologize Y/N. Just wanted to make sure you are ok.”

“Thanks Dean. Maybe I need a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah, you should get some rest.”

“Alright, thanks for talking me out of smoking. I really was debating.” You laughed a little.

“Well, I’m glad to be of help. Good night sweetheart.”

You smiled a little and waved Dean good night and walked back inside your apartment.

Dean took a deep breath and went back in to Sam’s apartment.

Sam was in the kitchen getting dinner ready. He looked up when he heard the door to his patio open and close.

“Were you talking to someone?”

“Yeah, Y/N.”

“Oh, how is she doing? I barely see her here since she got engaged to that douche.”

“Douche?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, not sure what Y/N sees in Matt, but Jess and I never liked him. He was a total d-bag in college. He once asked what our dad was ‘worth’ to determine if we could be friends.”

“What? That is weird.”

“Yeah, he only wanted to be friends with guys who were loaded and could spend daddy’s money.”

“Oh boy, what is Y/N doing with an ass like that?”

“I don’t know Dean. She always kept to herself in freshman year. Jess and I met her in calculus class and never had many classes together since we were all in different majors. She is pretty smart, I tell you.”

Dean smiled and replied “Yeah, that she seems to be.” He kept thinking how beautiful she is too. She had a pretty smile.

Sam sensed something and said “She is engaged Dean. Don’t even think about it.”

“Seriously Sam? You think that low of me that I would hit on an engaged woman?”

“Just warning ya.”

“Yeah, whatever bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Jess walked in the front door at caught the end of their conversation.

“Don’t start you too. I want to have a nice and pleasant dinner.”

“He started it!” both said and the same time pointing to each other.

Jess rolled her eyes and walked over to Dean to give him a hug and went over to Sam and pecked his cheek as a greeting.

“So, what were you guys talking about?”

“Y/N” Sam replied.

“Oh, what about her? Is she ok?”

“Oh yeah. Just caught her on one of her bad days, I guess. She is stressed about the wedding planning.” Dean replied.

“Oh” Jess replied a little lost in thought.

“Everything okay babe?”

Jess jerked back from her thoughts and replied “Yeah…yeah” and she smiled at her boyfriend. Sam knew she was hiding something, but didn’t bring it up.

“So, are you guys invited to the wedding?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, Y/N sent us both the invite and unfortunately, we had to decline since the wedding falls during mom and dad’s anniversary weekend. With the planning and everything, it would be a tight squeeze to attend the wedding and drive to Lawrence.”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me. We need to finalize the seating tomorrow so I can let Ellen know.” Dean reminded Sam.

“We can take a look at it tomorrow morning after breakfast?” Sam asked.

“Sounds good to me.”

The three finished their dinner ended the night with some light laughs and heavy liquor.

That night Sam and Jess were getting ready for bed and Sam decided to bring up what Jess was thinking about when they were talking about Y/N.

“Hey babe, what were you thinking when we were talking about Y/N’s wedding”

“Oh, it is nothing. Maybe I didn’t see it correctly and imagining things.”

“You didn’t see what correctly?” Sam asked curiously.

Jess sighed a little and replied “The other day I think I saw Matt with someone else when I was hanging out with Melissa and getting drinks at the club.”

“What?” Sam asked bewildered.

“Yeah, maybe it wasn’t him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, because this person was heavily making out with the woman who he was with.”

“It could have been Y/N.”

“I thought so too, but that night when I returned to the apartment I ran into Y/N while she was taking out trash and she was telling how she was stuck at home all day working on a deadline.”

“Oh” Sam said. “Maybe it wasn’t Matt. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, but for Y/N’s sake let’s hope it was someone else.”

“Yeah, me too babe. It was a dark club and loud. Maybe I am wrong. But in all honesty, she deserves someone else. I never liked Matt.” Jess said scrunching up her nose.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“See that is why I like you.” Jess replied with a grin.

“Geez, I thought you like me for other things too” Sam wiggled his eyebrows and pounced on Jess making her giggle loudly.

Sam and Jess were interrupted when they heard three bangs from the adjacent room.

“Hey! The walls are pretty thin around here. You are scarring me for life” Dean yelled.

Sam and Jess giggle quietly and yelled “Sorry” at the same time.

Dean huffed a little and closed his eyes to try and sleep. For whatever reason his mind kept going back to Y/N and how he wanted to hug her and take her worries away after seeing her today. He cannot get the image of her face that was lit up with the soft moonlight earlier.

“Stop it, Dean. Stop it. She is getting married.” He murmured to himself and started counting backwards to fall asleep. Some how he fell asleep and let the darkness consume him soon.

------

Next morning you woke up well rested. You are lucky you worked from home. You had a few things to take care at work and then work on wedding stuff. Your manager was very understanding that you needed cut back a few hours everyday to go meet vendors and stuff during weekdays to finalize the stuff for the wedding.

You took a quick shower and made a small breakfast for yourself and texted Matt reminding him again about meeting the florist today at 11:30 and to come pick you up at 11:00. He didn’t reply, but you assumed he saw the message. After working for a few hours, you were about to take an early lunch. You put on some jeans and a simple t-shirt to get ready to go to the florist. It was 11:00 and your phone rang. It was Matt.

“Hey babe. You downstairs?”

He groggily replied “Hey. I just woke up and saw your message. I don’t think I can make it to the appointment. Can you go by yourself? I mean it is flowers, what would I do there anyways?”

To you say you were furious was an understatement. Who even wakes up at 11AM on a weekday? Especially when you are planning your wedding?

“Seriously Matt? We both were supposed to go to the florist and finalize the flowers and center pieces. It is not just my wedding it is our wedding.”

“You are making mountains out of mole hills Y/N. It is just stupid flowers, who cares?”

“Who cares? Are you kidding Matt? Don’t you care about this wedding? I mean I wanted a small wedding, but your mom insisted on making extravagant.”

“Don’t bring my mom into this Y/N.” He replied with a tone that was almost scary.

“Well, she chose the cake yesterday. Maybe she should just choose the flowers as well.” You replied snidely.

“You are lucky you have my mom helping you. You have no friends and no family. Be grateful”

That hurt. You were on the verge of tears and you cleared your throat.

“I didn’t mean to be ungrateful; I just would like you to participate in this wedding planning. This is how we make memories. We only have a week left.”

“Well now I am not in the mood to come anyways, I’ll ask mom to join you.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to bother her.”

“She’ll come. Drive yourself there.” Matt replied and cut the call.

Those tears finally spilled. You were always alone after you lost your mom and dad. They were the biggest support system in your life and loosing that was horrible. You always thought meeting Matt was a blessing. He kept you active socially basically dragging you to every party and event around college. Over the years his friends became your friends, his life became your life and now his family was going to be yours. You were skeptical towards him and his motives, but didn’t want to question too much about it. You were getting a family again, so you bent anyway Matt molded you.

You picked yourself up and drove to the florist. Matt’s mom Martha was already there and she had a sour face. You sighed deeply and walked towards her.

“Matt told me about the conversation you both had earlier.” No hi or hello.

“Umm, what do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t force Matt to do things he doesn’t like. That is not OK” she hissed.

“Martha, I didn’t say anything. I just wanted him to join us to choose flowers since this is our wedding.”

“Well, you got me. So, let’s get to it.” She replied and got to work.

Peonies. She picked peonies. I mean they are beautiful flowers, but you wanted to have sunflowers in your bouquet. They were your mom’s favorite. You wanted her to be with you in some way on your special day. It is not traditional, but you thought you could at least win this fight. But you had no strength left in you to argue, so you let Martha pick everything.

After the appointment you drove back to your apartment. Glad that you and Matt don’t share a place. Otherwise, you would have seen his mom all the time. You need a break this evening. Get your mind off the planning so you decided to call you maid of honor, Lisa. Matt introduced you to Lisa in college. Matt and her dated the freshman year, but they both didn’t “click”. They remained friends and hung out all the time. Lisa became your impromptu best friend.

You rang Lisa. After a few rings she picked up the phone. She almost sounded as if she ran half a mile.

“Hey Lisa. How is it going?”

“Hey Y/N. What’s up?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out this evening. Maybe grab a few drinks and get a bite?”

“Um no, I can’t. My sister is visiting. She just broke up with her boyfriend and is upset and she needs me.”

“I am so sorry to hear that. How is doing now?”

“Huh...yeah yeah..she is fine.” Lisa replied hastily.

“Okay, hope she feels better. Maybe we can get together later this week. Go over some details about the bridesmaid dresses and set an appointment for a final fitting?”

“Yeah..yeah that sounds fine. Listen Y/N, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” She cut the call even before you could say bye.

You looked at the phone puzzled and got back to your work.

At 4, you promptly shut off the laptop to cook something. You didn’t eat lunch since you lost your appetite after meeting you mother-in-law to be. You decided to cook something and were in the kitchen ready to start your prep when you heard a knock at your door.

You were hoping Matt cooled down and stopped by. When you opened the door, you were met with Jess’s big smile. You always loved hanging out with Jess. She had such an infectious smile and attitude. She was a caring person in general.

“Hey Y/N! Is this a bad time?”

“No, no not at all. Come in.” You invited her in.

She gave you a tight hug and you wrapped your arms around here and squeezed her. You needed this after the whole florist fiasco. She broke the hug, and you both walked to your couch to sit down and have a chat. A few niceties were exchanged.

“Sam and I were wondering if you are free this evening?”

“Oh? Why?”

“We feel bad for not being able to attend your wedding and we were wondering if we can take you out for dinner and drinks this evening. Maybe your fiancé can join us too?”

What a relief. You need some company this evening and Jess is a literal angel at this point.

“Sure! Let me call Matt and check with him.”

“Okay, let’s say 7? We can get an early start on the drinks.” Jess laughed.

“You read my mind sister. 7 sounds good.”

Jess got up to leave the apartment and turned around. “Oh! Dean is also going to join us. Is that okay?”

You smiled a little wider hearing Dean’s name. Jess didn’t miss that.

“Of course! The more the merrier, right?”

“Yup! Alright, see you then.”

“See ya.” Your spirits were lifted. You called Matt to tell him about the plan. Praying that his mood is set after the call you had earlier today.

“Yeah?” He answered his call.

“Hey Matt, are you busy?”

“Not really, what’s up?”

“Um, you remember Sam and Jess, right? My neighbors. We went to college with them.”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“They wanted to hangout this evening. Get some drinks together. They feel bad that they can’t attend the wedding. They invited us both. They want to leave at 7. Want to come over to my place?”

Matt sighed “Listen Y/N. I never really liked that Sam guy. He is thinks he is above everyone because of his brains. I don’t want to hang out with them. You shouldn’t either.”

You were taken back a little. Sam was the most down to earth guy you ever met. Even in college. Not sure why Matt thinks that way.

“But Matt, they want to take us both out for drinks and dinner. They are nice people. You should give them a chance.”

“Y/N, I said what I said. I don’t want to go. Also, I made plans with my ma. I will let you hang out with them. Just this one time.”

Seriously? You never asked his permission.

“I don’t need your permission to hang out with them Matt. They are kind enough to invite us for dinner and this is how you talk?”

“Do I need to remind you of our talk from this morning?” He asked gruffly.

“Whatever.” You said and cut the call. You weren’t going to apologize when you have done nothing wrong. You were looking forward to this evening with Jess and Sam. And you were not going to lie that you were looking forward to spending some time with Dean as well. He always seemed nice and caring.

---

General POV:

Jess walked into their apartment and found Sam and Dean on the couch going over some details about their parent’s anniversary party.

“Y/N is free this evening. She will join us for drinks and dinner. I told her we will leave at 7.”

Dean perked up hearing this. And Jess didn’t miss that. She smirked a little walking to the fridge to get a drink.

“Matt is also going to join us.”

Sam groaned. “I hate that guy.” He muttered.

“Tough luck, you better behave this evening, Samuel.” Jess scolded him.

“Yeah yeah. I will if he will.”

“Sam, we invited them, so play nice. It is just one evening.”

“Yes ma’am” Sam replied.

Around 6:45, Y/N heard a knock at her door. She was expecting Jess, but when she opened the door, she saw Dean. He was wearing a simple flannel and jeans and boy, did he look good. She wiped those thoughts away and smiled at Dean.

“Hey Dean! I am almost ready. Need a few more minutes. Come in.”

“Hey. No rush. Just wanted to talk to you before we left.”

Y/N looked a little puzzled.

“Oh? What do you want to talk about?” Y/N was putting on her ear ring using the mirror in the foyer. Her back to Dean.

“Um, wanted to see if it was okay with you and Matt for me to join. I can drop if you guys feel uncomfortable.”

Y/N turned back to face him. She didn’t understand where this was coming from.

“Dean, that is totally fine. Thanks for checking with me. It will be fun. Also, Matt is not joining us this evening. He is otherwise occupied” Y/N said as she rolled her eyes and turned around to put on her other ear ring.

Dean was relived to know that Matt wouldn’t join. After what Sam told him, he didn’t really care much about that douchebag either. He didn’t ask her more about why Matt couldn’t join them.

“Ok, I am ready. Ready to head out?”

Dean took a few seconds to admire her. She dressed simple, but she made her outfit look amazing.

“Yeah, let’s go see if Sam and Jess and ready too.”

---

The evening started out great. All four of them hit a few bars and drank and danced their worries away. Especially Y/N. She let loose. Jess challenged Y/N to drink to every drink she had. And that turned into a friendly competition and both women were very tipsy by the time they hit their third or fourth bar. Sam and Dean soon realized that it was time to get some food to soak up the alcohol.

Jess and Y/N were giggling all night and just having fun. Dean was amused every time he looked at Y/N. He wished he met Y/N sooner because he would have asked her out. No doubt. But we can’t always get what we want, right?

They wanted to make their way to a restaurant to end their night and eat something. Y/N and Jess wanted to drink a little more and dance and kept calling the men party poopers.

“Ladies, you both need to eat. We had been drinking for 3 hours now.” Sam scolded.

“Booo!” Jess yelled.

Y/N parroted her and yelled “Yeah, Booooo!” towards Dean and broke into a fit of giggles.

Sam and Dean both sighed and somehow convinced them. Y/N understood and reasoned with Jess.

“Girl, we need food. I am hungry. I am sure they serve wine there.” She winked.

“Aww, I don’t want the night to end. I never get to hangout with you. Which is weird. We were friends in college and now we are neighbors and we never did this before.”

Y/n felt bad. Matt always made plans for her and never let her hangout with Sam and Jess. Sensing this Jess straightened up.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.” Jess replied groggily.

“No no, don’t apologize. We will do this again. I promise” Y/N told Jess and gave her a hug.

This conversation warmed Sam and Dean. Dean especially. He knew it was Matt that held her back, but he was glad Y/N was letting some steam out and spending time with Jess. It looked like she needed this.

At the restaurant, they got a booth. Sam and Jess sat on one side and Y/N and Dean on the other. Y/N felt the warmth coming off Dean. They reminisced over the night’s events and were having fun. During the conversation Dean rested his arm behind Y/N. She could smell the cologne coming off Dean. Not thinking she turned a little to face Dean and smiled.

“You smell so good Dean.” She said almost giddily.

Dean had a smug look on his face and with a grin replied “Thank you, darling.”

Sam cleared his throat as if warning Dean again.

Dean immediately realized the closeness and took his arm off the seat and moved a little away from her.

Jess got up to go use the restroom while you three were finishing your food. She got back to the table a few minutes later very sober and a little flustered.

“We need to go home. Now” she said to the table.

“Babe, what is the hurry? We still haven’t gotten dessert” Sam replied confused. You and Dean were confused as well. Jess looked at Sam and subtly pointed at something behind her with her eyes. Sam followed her eyesight to where it was pointed. Sam tightened his jaw.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Sam replied.

Dean and Y/N were confused, but obliged. Sam and Dean went to the front desk to settle the check. Y/N felt the need to use the bathroom.

“Guys, I will be right back. I need to use the restroom.”

“No Y/N wait..” Jess stopped her, but it was too late.

Y/N turned around and immediately got a glimpse of Matt at one of the booths. Y/N was not sure, but she squinted her eyes and he wasn’t alone. He was with Lisa. Your maid of honor. They both were cozied up in the booth facing her and even before she could realize what was happening, they started making out heavily.

The air got knocked out of Y/N. The blood drained from her face. Jess immediately came to her side to hold her. Sam and Dean saw what was happening and walked over to the girls. Dean was worried to see Y/N in such state. He looked at what she was looking. He saw two people playing tonsil tennis with each other. He looked at Sam for an explanation.

“That’s Matt.” That was all he needed to hear. He went to Y/N’s side and tried to get her to talk. She was honestly scaring him. She was in shock.

“Sweetheart, hey! Look at me. Let’s get out of here. Okay?” He was trying to get to her.

-----

Y/N’s POV:

Your blood was boiling. Internally you were screaming and you wanted to pounce on Matt and Lisa. But you were unable to move. You weren’t blinking, trying to make sure you were seeing things right. Dean’s voice broke you out of your trance. You looked at Dean.

“You…you guys got my back?” She asked shakingly.

Sam and Jess looked at each other not understanding what you were asking. But Dean immediately understood.

“Absolutely” replied Dean. That is all you needed to hear.

You straightened your stance pulled the engagement ring from your left hand and marched over to their table like a woman on a mission. Dean, Jess and Sam followed you. You made eye contact with Matt and Lisa.

“You two. Outside. Now!” You said in a calm voice and slammed the ring on the table and turned to walk away.

Dean was right beside you and opened the door for you. You didn’t want to make a scene inside the restaurant. A lot of people were having a good time and it wasn’t fair to them.

Once the cool air hit your face, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Sam and Jess immediately came to your side and Dean never leaving your side.

“Are you ok Y/N?” Jess asked. Honestly your calmness was scaring her.

You smiled at her and shook your head yes.

Matt and Lisa showed up a few minutes later walking towards you. Lisa cowering behind Matt. When they were close enough. You looked at Matt.

“How long?” was all you asked calmly.

“Y/N…” Matt started to say.

“HOW LONG?!” you yelled at this point.

Matt flinched at your tone. Honestly everyone around you flinched, but you didn’t care.

Matt put his head down and mumbled something.

“What?” you asked as you couldn’t hear.

“Over a year” Matt said a little louder. You felt like someone slapped you. You were mad at him for doing this, but you were even more mad at him for how he manipulated you and gaslighted you even after he started the affair. The nerve on this guy. He was fucking someone else behind your back. Your maid of honor no less.

“Then why did you propose to me?” You yelled.

Matt put his head down unable to answer. And that answered your question.

“Oh god, it was proposal out of guilt isn’t it?” you questioned. When he didn’t answer you yelled “Isn’t it?”

Matt shook his head and lifted his head to look at you.

You took a deep breath and pointed at him.

“I want you to come get your shit from my apartment tomorrow. They might be in the hallway, or near the dumpster. I don’t know yet.” You told him. Spitting venom.

“And you” you pointed to Lisa. “I trusted you. You could have done the right thing and told me. But you didn’t. And you even lied to me. You volunteered to be my maid of honor. I never want to see your face ever again. Understood?”

Lisa nodded her head and cowered even further behind Matt.

“Heh, I should have realized what a manipulative bastard you are Matt. But I always gave you the benefit of the doubt. Ignored all the red flags. But that one is on me, isn’t it?” Your voice waivered at the end.

Dean got beside you and placed a hand on your lower back. Telling you silently he got you. Jess placed he hand on your shoulder and Sam was right behind you and Dean. They got your back and you didn’t want to spill any more tears for this son of a bitch! Literally.

You turned to Dean.

“I want to go home Dean.” You said quietly.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Dean gave Matt a dirty look and guided you out of there. Jess and Sam silently followed.

You were walking slowly and started to shiver a little. Dean put his arm around your shoulder. You were glad he was there. You slowly brought your hand around Dean’s torso from the behind and snuggled into him. For warmth, for comfort, for support. And it felt good. Dean did not complain one bit.

“I got you Y/N. I got you.” Dean reassured and kissed your temple.

How you got home was a mystery. You got into your apartment and sat on the couch silently. Dean sat beside you holding you. Sam went to get some water for you. Jess crouched to your eye level. A sad smile on her face.

“How are you feeling?” Jess asked you.

“I want to be alone.” You replied. Jess looked at Dean and then Sam. Sam shook his head a no, not comfortable leaving you alone in this mental state.

“Y/N I don’t think it is good for you to be alone at this time.” Jess tried to assure you.

You shook your head no and said “Please I just want to be alone. With my thoughts. Please” you pleaded with her.

“But…” she was about to put her foot down when Dean stepped in.

“How about I stay with you Y/N?”

You turned your head to him “You don’t have to Dean. It’s ok. I won’t do anything irrational, if that is what you all are worried about.”

Dean felt bad. “We don’t want you to be alone in case Matt comes back. Doesn’t he have a key?”

You nodded your head yes. “See, just for your safety I’ll stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

For some reason you felt better knowing someone will be close by. “Okay” you replied silently.

Jess smiled and said “Good.” She squeezed your knee as an assurance. “That’s settled. When you wake up tomorrow come straight to our place for breakfast.” That was an order. You nodded your head yes.

“Heads up, this guy snores like a bear.” Jess said pointing her thumb at Dean.

“Hey! I don’t snore.” Dean defended.

You chuckled a little. Thankful for them trying to cheer you up. You took Dean’s hand in your hand and looked up and Jess and Sam. “Thanks for having my back today. That wasn’t a pleasant situation to be around.”

“We always got your back Y/N.” Sam assured you with a smile. Dean squeezed your hand and said “I got you. Always.” Silently.

[robogart]

I feel like my thoughts are rude, but like I didn't even realize how deeply wired my brain was to define hairy women as masculine, and when I realized that, I also realized thats why I never feel like I can really come across femme.

Like I'm a woman, but I'm hairy, and Idk

I just

I wanna say I love your art, and thank you for flicking on the presence of mind switch in my brain,

and giving me hope that I might be regarded as a hot lady like the ones you draw some day

Okay, first off! Babe you hold those hopes because they are REAL and they WILL HAPPEN AND ARE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!!! 👏💖💖💖💖 I completely feel all these thoughts, it's something that is so ingrained in us since we were children! And I have days where they creep back and cloud my feelings/perception of myself too! But it is absolutely, like you said, just WIRED into our self impressions, and it just is slowly unlearning them and shedding off such a narrow mindset! Those rude thoughts are just echoes of someone else's voice that told you once that you can't be beautiful if X, or you can't be beautiful if Y, Z or Q. And it's bullshit!!

Unlearning harmful mindsets that were instilled in us from a young age is a struggle! And it DOES get easier, but there will still be those rude thoughts that might come echoing back at you some days. But it's tending and supporting and growing your OWN inner voice to be louder and more vibrant than that echo in the back!

There are days that I go out and where a skirt and have my hairy legs on display - and do I get comments or stares? Whispers behind me in line? Absolutely. But I know that it is because they are ignorant, and they literally have never EVER pushed outside their box before. They haven't seen a lot of people live outside the box they were given. Staring doesn't bother me much - they look because they've never seen it. You double take on something that you weren't expecting. But for those that criticize or dare to speak to me - it's because they haven't ever had an original thought for themselves. Which is sad. Your mere gorgeous presence is a challenge to them and their tiny small brains, and they are too weak to withstand it. Frankly, it's embarrassing.

And if they do comment at you, you just give a short answer, even just an "oh okay, cool" and you move on. Because they are not a part of your story. Don't give them tickets. They don't get a place on your stage. You don't even get past the front door. Be the main character that you are babe! You are gorgeous and beautiful and you ARE the hot ladies that I draw. Know that all the hot babes I draw are here just as reminders that you ARE A HOT BABE AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT!!!! I WON'T LET YOU!!!!! 👏👏👏💖💖💖💖💖💖

[letarasstuff]

Can I stay with you?

(A/N): This is based on this, this and this post. I really hope you are ready for the feels, because they are there and they are heavy-

Summary: Following the events of Emily's death, how will Spencer and his daughter cope with it?

Warnings: Angst and lots of it, mentions of drug use, contemplations of drug use, mentions of needles, we also got some bittersweet fluff

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _______________________________

A hospital is not a place where a child should be, Spencer knows that much. But he picked (Y/N) up on his way for two reasons:

The first one being the simple occurence that the babysitter is not able to keep her any longer, because she has classes in the next morning. The second one is selfish and the father knows that, but he needs her presence, the comfort she brings to him.

“Daddy”, the child breaks the silence in the waiting room, “Is Auntie Emily going to be ok?” She sits in his lap reading a book before looking up at him. Her eyes hold something he wishes to never see again: Fear. The fear of losing someone she loves dearly.

“I hope, Baby. But let’s not forget one important fact: Your Auntie Emily is one of the strongest women I know.” Spencer gives her a kiss on the top of her head and cuddles her closer to him, seeing (Y/N)’s eyes dropping. The rest of the team watches the interaction with aching hearts.

The girl is asleep for half an hour when JJ enters the room. Everybody gets up crowding her. Spencer is careful to not disturb his daughter as he moves her head to his shoulder and hooks his arm under her legs.

“She never made it off the table.” These words echo in the genius’ mind, seemingly being the only things he can think about. “I-I never had the chance to say goodbye.” JJ hugs him, trying to give some sort of comfort. In this process (Y/N) wakes up. As soon as she spots her father’s tears, she knows not to ask a question. Instead she loops her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine. It’s gonna be alright, Daddy”, the toddler recalls the words he says to her whenever she is upset in hopes to cheer him up.

The next couple days are hard on the whole team. They try to grieve together, especially while the funeral takes place. (Y/N) notices that the color black is fitting, since her Auntie really liked to wear it. She likes that they do the same to pay their respects that way.

“Auntie Penny, is she watching?” The blonde woman carries her while the casket is walked down the aisle. Since her death, (Y/N) doesn’t dare to say Emily’s name. She thinks if she avoids it, she is going to inflict less pain when she is talked about.

“Of course. Emily is in heaven and watches this beautiful beautiful ceremony we hold for her. So wipe that frown off and put on that smile she loved so much. Alright?” Confusing to her, the adults want (Y/N) to smile all the time. But they are frowning and crying more often than not.

“Can she hear us? Because I want to say I love her. I forgot to say it the last time I saw her.” Trying to distract herself from seeing the casket lowering into the grave, the girl plays with Penlope’s hair. She in turn has to fight tears back. Only now she realizes the impact the whole thing has on her.

“I’m sure she does. What about when the majority is gone, we go to her grave and talk to Emily? Do we have a deal?” (Y/N) nods.

As soon as the ceremony is over, Spencer takes his daughter, cradling her close to him. As if she senses his sadness, the girl is petting his back in a comforting way. He squeezes her closer to him, leaving her not much room to breathe.

“Daddy, I wanna talk to her. I need to get down.” (Y/N) wiggles in his grasp after she whispers this into his ear. Reluctantly Spencer lets her down and she toddles over to the freshly made grave. A little plastic card sticks out of the grass in place of a headstone.

The adults try to give her as much space as possible, they have to let grieve on her own.

“Hey, Auntie Emily. I-I wanted to say I love you, and I forgot to tell you this the last time so I say it a second time. I love you. And I miss you. I think Daddy misses you too. He is sad since you are gone. I’m too. I think it’s because we miss you. But I hope you like Heaven. Maybe you see my Mommy. When you do, can you say I love her?

“I’ll try to see you soon, Auntie. Goodbye!” (Y/N) goes back to her father and makes grabby hands towards him. Gladly Spencer picks her up again, putting a kiss on her head. “Wanna go home, Daddy.” The child mumbles, exhausted by all the stress and emotions from the day.

The father is relieved to have an excuse to skip the meal with the team. He is scared that the evening at the little restaurant is clouded by sadness and angst. Spencer doesn’t need that right now, a nice sit in with his daughter sounds way better.

After saying their goodbyes the little family sits in the car on their way to the apartment. As soon as Spencer starts the car, (Y/N) is fast asleep. He looks at her through the rear view mirror, happy to see her at peace. It gives the father time to sort through his own thoughts. Since Emily’s death (Y/N) tries to be around him constantly, which he is thankful for, because she keeps the darkness away.

Her last hours play again and again before his eyes. The different ways he could have stopped all of this. Why didn’t he say more when she began biting her nails? When she said “Laura Reynolds is dead”? Maybe all of this is his fault?

His forearm begins to itch. Exactly where Tobias Hankel injected the needle same as he did several times. Maybe, maybe it would make everything better? Just this one tim-

“Daddy? When are we home?” The small voice cuts off his train of thought. Spencer needs a few seconds to clear his mind. Did he really think that? Taking dilaudid while the reason he fought his addiction literally sits right behind him? “Just a few minutes, Sweetheart. Do you want to go to bed after dinner?”

As if she knows that the father can’t be left alone in this state, (Y/N) answers: “No, I wanna watch a movie with you. Can we watch Alvin and the chipmunks? I love Simon so much!” This places a smile on his face, the excitement in her eyes scare his dark thoughts away. “Sure, Peanut. We can watch whatever you want.”

It's the fourth evening in a row that the girl sleeps in her father’s bed. She either falls asleep there or climbs next to him in the middle of the night, so he figures he lets her sleep there right away.

“Good night, Sweetheart”, he tells her as they lay down. Even though it’s quite early for Spencer to go to bed it’s (Y/N)’s time. “Good night, Daddy”, she tells him while snuggling closer, “I love you. Soooooo much.”

The young doctor decides to take the next few days off from work in order to work through the events. The first one he spends coloring in books with her the whole day. While she works on her own books gifted by various members of the BAU, Spencer has his own extra made for adults. He can’t deny the soothing effect it has on him. The repeating moves calms the storm of thoughts inside his head.

The next day the two of them sit the whole day on the small couch in the living room, (Y/N) on his lap, and read. Sometimes they read for themselves, others the father reads outloud from his own or (Y/N) from her own. It’s kind of therapeutic to hear his child doing something he enjoyed his whole life.

“Daddy, do you think she feels lonely in heaven? There is nobody she knows, she has to wait for us to follow her, doesn’t she?” Not prepared for such a deep question, Spencer is caught off guard.

He clears his throat before answering. “Uh, Auntie Emily isn’t that lonely up there, you know. You can’t remember him, but Uncle Gideon, a friend from work and someone I looked up to, is there. He surely greeted her with open arms, happy to see her. And your Mommy is also there, she certainly asked lots of questions about you.” “A-are you sure? I told her to say Mommy ‘I love you’ when she sees her.” (Y/N) looks up to her father with big eyes.

He is not sure if he is lying right now to her, but he sees that his daughter needs the reassurance. “Yes, I’m sure.” To lighten the mood he begins to tickle her, which ends in a tickle fight which in turn ends in tiring the girl out and falling asleep while watching a Disney movie.

The next day is by far the worst since it all happened. Both (Y/N) and Spencer haven’t slept much due to nightmares from both sides (him comforting her as she tears him from his own), which results in a grumpy toddler and a non stop coffee drinking adult.

“Sweetheart, you need to put that shirt on. Auntie JJ is expecting us in ten minutes. Please, stop fighting me”, he begs, but she continues to cry. As Spencer tries for a third time to put it on her (Y/N) throws herself to the other side of the bed.

“I don’t want that, Daddy!” She finally gets out through her sobs. Spencer halts in his movements. “Why? That’s your favorite, Baby.” While (Y/N) begins to cry louder, he leaves the clothing article on the bed and gathers her in his arm, rocking her back and forth additionally to whispering sweet reassurances in her ear.

“She gave it to me. I don’t wanna make it dirty or ruin it”, the toddler says between shaky breaths. For what feels like the trillionth time, the young agent’s heart breaks over this statement. He has a bigger vocabulary than the average English speaking person, but at this moment Spencer is at a loss of words.

“Sweetheart, I apologize for not acknowledging this right away. I’ll get another shirt out for you, ok? Thank you so much for telling and helping me.” Just a few minutes later the little family is on their way to the next metro stop. It’s then that Spencer realizes his day won’t be any easier.

“(Y/N) you can sit in the seat next to me like you always do. Why do you have to sit in my lap today?” Normally he isn’t someone who denies his child physical contact, but the seating chart has a logical purpose. Being on a train with a child means you have some kind of luggage with you, which leads to occupying a four seats compartment. In order to prevent somebody taking the seat next to him, Spencer places his daughter there. It’s a win win situation for everybody, really.

Unfortunately for him (Y/N) is extra clingy today and won’t stop crawling onto his lap. With a sigh he accepts his defeat and tries not to think about the amount of germs that fly around.

Another problem that torments the father: Over the last few days his cravings grew. Especially today the feeling, the need, for another shot and another high is undeniable for him. As if sensing this (Y/N) sticks by his side throughout the whole time, keeping his mind off of the drug that changes him.

While they are at the Jareau’s and Lamontagne’s household, his daughter refuses to play with Henry. “I wanna stay with you”, she murmurs into his shoulder. Again Spencer accepts his defeat and sits down on the couch next to his best friend.

“Sweetheart, you need to let me go. I have to go to the bathroom, you can’t come with me.” This is followed by a tsunami of tears. While JJ tries to console her, he slips out of the room discreetly.

Due to (Y/N)’s current grumpiness and Spencer’s fatigue they quickly call it a night, even though he could use some more comfort from his friends.

“Good night, Sweetheart. Sleep tight and dream nice. I love you”, he says after tucking his child in and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Night night, Daddy. I love you, too”, her small voice echoes back to him and makes him smile softly.

Spencer finds his way back to the living room and sits down with a book in his lap. As expected he doesn’t get much reading done, too distracted by his own thoughts. The events of the night of his colleague’s, his friend’s, death replay themselves over and over again.

What if he made his conclusions faster? He is supposed to be the smart one, the one the team relies on for making important connections. But he failed once so who knows what happens when he fails again? Next time it could be the whole team dying. He could die. He would leave (Y/N) alone with the team gone. His mother isn’t capable of caring for her and his father doesn’t even know she exists. She will go into foster care, into a home with too many kids. She will be looked over, too small to be seen. Her potential will go to waste and she will never achieve anything she is capable of. And all that because he hasn’t made a conclusion fast enough.

Spencer’s scars on his forearm itch worse than ever. One shot. Only one shot to make the thoughts go away. To make the guilt go away, the bad feelings. He needs it. He needs to cure himself from the symptoms of being a human.

Before the young doctor even registers what he is doing he already put his jacket on and looks for his wallet when a voice startles him.

“Daddy, i can't sleep. Can I stay with you again?” (Y/N) stands in the doorway, clutching her stuffed animal and her blanket, shielding her eyes from the light, oblivious to what her father was about to do.

“Oh Darling, of course. Do you want me to read to you? Or we drink hot chocolate and watch a movie?” He suggests, ready to distract himself from anything that’s going on in his mind. A few minutes later his daughter cuddles into his side while watching once again Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Spencer is just happy to have his light in his life all the time and is ready to tackle any task to keep her there, may it be once again the weekly visits for anonymous narcotics or time off from work to process the events together in therapy.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x reader)

Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Sam— and learns a little about reader’s past. Reader and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)

Word count: 4.2k

a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Y/N playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love. 

She maneuvered the bins to her satisfaction and shut the closet doors, pushing against them to squeeze everything in until the latch clicked. She turned to see him watching her and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. She gave him a wink and a grin, and he was falling all over again. 

She perched on the corner of her desk with a tired sigh, and he made his way across the room to her. She reached for him as soon as he was within arms length, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go to dinner to celebrate.”

She laughed and looked up at him. “Celebrate what?”

He shrugged. “You. Summer.” He brought his arms around her shoulders. “Love.”

She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. “You just want me to say it again.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answered immediately and rather dreamily. 

“Yo, Y/L/N!” 

The call of her name from the hallway startled them both. Anita began to step over the threshold, continuing, “You ready to get absolutely crunk tonight or— oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes tracking Spencer’s frame. “Dr. Reid.”

Spencer stepped back from Y/N, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. “Mrs. Lopez. It’s, um— it’s nice to see you again.”

Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Y/N. “So, are we going out or what?”

Y/N groaned. “Anita, I’m exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!” Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. “Spence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, um— summer. Call Sam; we’ll all just go together.”

Anita spared a glance in Spencer’s direction before sighing heavily. “Fine. But I’m drinking.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.

Y/N chuckled. “I swear she’s not actually an alcoholic.” Her eyes landed on Spencer’s face, and she smiled gently. “I know you weren’t expecting a Meet the Friends night, but it’ll be fun.”

“She hates me,” Spencer surmised.

“She does not hate you.” Y/N stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. “She’s just… protective. That’s all.”

…

Y/N was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor. 

They’d met up with her and Sam at a Mexican restaurant in Tenleytown. Sam was wonderfully kind and funny, even apologizing for having “flipped him the bird” the last time she saw him. And it was a good thing Sam was being friendly, because Anita was decidedly… less so. 

Spencer understood completely of course. He’d broken Y/N’s heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Y/N’s best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. He’d just... hoped that she wouldn’t. 

Thankfully, Y/N and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversation— he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidney— one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool. 

“Y/N is still Riley’s favorite teacher ever,” Sam told him. “I mean, it helps when she’s also your aunt, I guess.”

“He didn’t get any special treatment,” Y/N insisted. At Sam’s raised eyebrow, she laughed. “Okay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I can’t help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.”

“Oh my god, the field trip,” Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. 

“The field trip!” Y/N turned to Spencer. “My group of kiddos from two years ago— they were kind of a tough group.”

“Kind of?” Anita squeaked. “Let me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.”

Sam piped in, “I chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked incredulously. 

“So many things,” Sam baited. 

Y/N covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencer’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and she’d barely cracked a smile all evening. 

“Okay, so many things happened,” Y/N started, “but the worst was—”

“The poop!” Sam wheezed. “The poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.”

Y/N composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. “So after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and there’s this— smell.”

“The absolute worst smell you’ve ever smelled, Spencer,” Sam assured. 

“It’s awful. It’s so bad,” Y/N agreed. “And I’m literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.”

“You could not pay me enough,” Anita chimed in. 

“And I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I can’t, like— hold my nose, right? I don’t want to embarrass him!” Y/N turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. “So I ask, ‘Sweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?’”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “Oh no.” 

“But oh, it wasn’t a bathroom accident,” Y/N clarified, waving her hand. “No, no— that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.”

Spencer could feel his jaw drop. “Oh my god.”

“So, he unzips his lunchbox and it’s just— overflowing with shit.” Y/N dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles. 

“And don’t forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!” Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. “I will never understand.”

Y/N lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasn’t sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space. 

“I told you I had a lot of poop stories,” Y/N reminded him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.

“God, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,” Y/N complained, pushing back from the table. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” 

She gave Spencer a reassuring smile, and he tried not to panic as she stood and left him with Sam and Anita. And because the universe was toying with him, at that exact moment, Sam’s phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh. 

“Shit— I’ve been waiting on this call all day.” She kissed Anita’s cheek and stood from the table. “So sorry; I’ll just be five minutes, I promise.”

With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Anita broke the silence first. 

“You know what’s annoying?”

Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Considering that the issues one might classify as an annoyance vary for each individual person, there are over seven billion potential answers to that question.”

Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, “And I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.”

“I actually kind of like you.” She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. “I wanted to hate you, but I don’t.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, um— I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,” she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. “Almost as hot as she is.”

He laughed a little at that. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” She dropped her hand back to the table. She still didn’t crack a smile, and her gaze bore into him. “I don’t know how much you know about Owen, and she’d probably kill me for saying anything. But he was a real piece of shit.”

This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didn’t know anything about Owen; he’d tried not to think too much about anyone Y/N might have been with before him. 

“It didn’t start out that way.” She drew her brows together. “Well, I don’t know— maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.”

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “The point is, I didn’t know he was treating her like garbage until it was too late. He was already all…” She gestured wildly around her head. “In her head, telling her lies about herself, fucking her up, isolating her. For years he did that. And then it took her years to get him out of her head. To— unlearn all the lies. To build herself back up.” 

He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anita’s wrath. He was also immensely glad that Y/N had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored. 

“You’re a fed or whatever, so I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she continued, “but I would love nothing more than to put that fucker six feet under.” She ran her hand through her hair, and when she continued her voice was the quietest he’d ever heard it. “All that to say, I… I wasn’t there for her when Owen was destroying her from the inside out. And I will never let that happen again.” 

Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. “I like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, just— don’t give me a reason not to.”

She didn’t drop her gaze, and he couldn’t quite think of the appropriate response. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His brain was still fixated on the idea that anyone had ever hurt the loveliest and kindest woman he’d ever met.

“Where’s Sam?” Spencer turned just as Y/N slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee. 

“Some bullshit from the office that her idiot partner can’t handle.” Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Y/N with a grin. “Don’t worry. I didn’t scare him too much.”

…

“Easy.” Spencer steadied Y/N with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment. 

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I just— really can’t drink like I used to.” She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs. 

He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy. 

“Can’t believe I’m tipsy from a couple margaritas.”

“To be fair, you had four,” he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door. 

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “But I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.”

“A pitcher?” Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. “I can’t even have one without being completely incapacitated.”

She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. “Mmm, so you’re a lightweight.”

“Very much so,” he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips. 

“Just one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face at the endearment, the way that North Carolina dripped syrupy and thick over every syllable. She pulled him down to meet her in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening it as he dug his fingers into the softness of her hips. Her hands wound into his hair, tugging lightly and holding him close. 

He broke away to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. She laced their fingers together and leaned on him while she kicked off her shoes. He toed his own off and then allowed her to lead him toward his bedroom. 

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again. 

Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” she teased, ghosting her lips over his.

“Ha, ha.” Part of him wanted to bring up Owen, but she was so happy and warm and comfortable in this moment. He didn’t want to ruin this night of celebration. He didn’t want to ruin this day that had been so full of love. They had plenty of time to discuss Owen. 

He wrapped his arms around her middle. “You’ve met Penelope. I��ve met Anita. Now that the school year is over… we could tell Michael.”

She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. “He’s gonna lose his mind.”

…

A week later, the pair of them were strolling up the sidewalk to the LaMontagne house. Will and JJ were long overdue for a date night, and Spencer had jumped at the opportunity for the two of them to babysit. When they reached the door, Spencer rang the bell and Y/N waited slightly behind him. 

They could hear the joy from behind the door before it even opened, Michael’s high pitched giggle and Will’s booming laugh. Spencer was already leaning down in preparation, and Michael absolutely launched into his arms as soon as the door swung open. Spencer clocked the moment that Michael spotted her, purely because he practically squealed and squirmed right out of Spencer’s grip. 

“I knew it!” Michael cried. 

He wrapped himself around Y/N’s legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. “I told you.”

“You did, buddy.” Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Y/N forward by the hand. “Michael had an… inklin’ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Not friends, Daddy,” Michael said exasperatedly. “He’s her boyfriend.”

“Oh, excuse me, sorry.” Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. “Michael had a feelin’ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Y/L/N’s boyfriend.”

Y/N’s cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. “What— um, what made you think that?” 

Michael waited patiently for her to take off her shoes. “Well firstly, he started picking me up all the time, which was nice but weird. And then he wouldn’t stop asking about you. It was kind of annoying.” Spencer made a choking sound, and Will stifled a laugh. 

“You guys wear the same shoes, and you both love Halloween and tea and reading. I knew you’d like him if he could be a guest reader.” As he led her into the living room, Michael continued, “Oh, and you wore his purple scarf. He doesn’t let anyone wear the purple scarf.”

Spencer vividly remembered that morning— she’d slept over after a midweek date night in April. The temperatures in DC had plummeted overnight, and the outfit she’d brought left her woefully under-dressed for the chilly spring day. He’d wrapped her up in the soft, purple scarf without a second thought. 

She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.

“Well, guess I can’t take all the credit,” Will decided. “Who knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?”

Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Y/N into the playroom. “This is the best,” Michael sighed. “Now we can play restaurant forever.”

…

Spencer pulled his legs up in the tiny chair, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Usually on nights like this, Michael ran him ragged with demands for magic tricks, story time, and playing pretend. Tonight, he’d actually been able to catch up with middle school (middle school!) Henry, because Michael was totally and completely enthralled by Y/N. 

She was helping with the last of the setup for the “restaurant,” organizing Michael’s menus and straightening his clip-on tie. Of course he’d seen her with kids before. But something about being in this playroom— one that he’d spent so many hours in, watching two of his favorite kids grow up— had him feeling warm from head to toe. 

Henry had bounded down the stairs at the news that uncle Spencer was dating his former kindergarten teacher. He hadn’t realized that she’d taught Henry, too, although with the timeline of her teaching career he should have put two and two together. The generally reserved middle schooler had positively beamed when she gasped out, “Gosh, I always forget how tall you’ve gotten!”

And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Hen!” Michael called. 

Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. “What?”

“You’re the chef,” Michael informed him. 

Y/N tilted her head. “I thought I was the chef?”

“No, no, no.” Michael pushed her toward the kid-sized table. “You and uncle Spencer are on a fancy date.”

Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stood from the chair, pulling it out for her like a perfect gentleman. She beamed at him and gave him a wink. “Thank you, sir.”

She dropped lightly into the chair across from Spencer and laughed a little at his folded limbs. “You look very comfortable.” 

He laughed and stretched his legs out straight. “The picture of comfort, really. These chairs were clearly designed with six foot men in mind.”

“I’m sorry I’m so under-dressed for our fancy dinner date,” she teased, dropping her chin into her hand. 

“You look stunning, as always.” He gestured to the messy braid Michael had folded her hair into. “I especially love what you’re doing with your hair.”

She sucked in a dramatic breath, bringing up her hand to pat lightly at her hair. “You’re making me blush, doctor.” She peeked behind her and then lowered her voice. “I’m probably going to cry when I try to brush the rats out.” 

He looked at her sympathetically. “I know the feeling. I think I’ve got a wide tooth comb, and I can help. I’ve gotten pretty good at detangling Michael’s handiwork.”

Before she could respond, Michael made his way to the table, holding a dish towel over his arm. “Good evening, sir, madam.” 

“Good evening,” they chorused, with barely suppressed grins. 

“Compliments of the chef.” Michael held out his hand to reveal two slightly smushed strawberries.

“Oh, wow,” Y/N said, eyes wide and gesturing to Spencer. “Honey, do you want to—”

Spencer waved his hand, eyeing the berries warily. “No, no, please, help yourself.”

Y/N held back a smile and accepted the strawberries, holding them carefully in her hand and turning her attention back to Michael. “Thank you so much. What a wonderful appetizer. Could we hear the specials?”

That helped Michael remember the menus, and he pulled them from his pocket and cleared his throat. He handed them the construction paper menus. “Our specials tonight are roasted octopus and a steak tartar.”

From the kitchen, Henry mumbled, “Tartare.” 

“Tartare. Steak tartare is our special,” Michael corrected. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’m that adventurous. Maybe my boyfriend is though,” Y/N told a grinning Michael. “What do you recommend for a picky eater?”

“My favorite is the chicken nuggets.”

“Well then, sign me up. One order of chicken nuggets.” Y/N handed him the menu. 

Spencer was still perusing the menu for Le Chateau LaMontagne. He smiled at Michael’s handwriting, but particularly at the places where he could tell Y/N had helped. “Everything looks delicious,” he finally decided, “but, you know... I think I’m also going to have the nuggets.”

…

When the boys were finally in bed, Spencer and Y/N settled down in the living room to untangle the mess of her hair. She sat on the floor in between his legs as he gently pulled each braid strand free. He smiled at the way she arched up into his touch, shivering when his fingers brushed over her neck. 

“You’re lucky,” he remarked, laying the last braid strand back into its original place. “Michael seems to have gotten a little better at braiding.”

She leaned her head back into his hands. “You detangled the whole thing?”

“Mmhm.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. She brought her hands up to hold him against her, trying to deepen the kiss before laughing at the awkward angle and giving up. 

He sat up as she stood and moved to the couch, snuggling up close to him and tucking herself under his arm. “I’m very lucky,” she agreed. “For many reasons.”

Her hand drifted to rest on his tummy, her fingers immediately tracing little shapes over the fabric of his shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “And tired, too.”

“Hmm?” 

He leaned his cheek against her head. “When you get tired, you, um— you start drawing on my stomach.” 

Her finger paused. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” She shifted to raise her head to look at him, and he shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve just— noticed.”

She smiled a little sleepily. “You know I love all of you. But I— well, I don’t know, really. I just like your tummy.” She gave it a quick squeeze. “It’s just— nice and comfy and perfect for resting on.” 

He covered her hand with his own and leaned forward to press their mouths together. She drew his bottom lip in between her own, sucking a little and then giving it a quick peck before pulling back and stifling a yawn into his chest. “Man, I am tired.” She snuggled back into him and resumed her tummy tracing. “What, um— what else have you noticed?”

He rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her impossibly closer. “You like to play with my hair.”

“Mmmm, guilty as charged.”

He smiled at the sleep creeping into her voice. “I like it, too.” He ran his fingers up to her shoulder, and then back down to the crook of her arm, soothing her closer to sleep. “Hmmmm. You always have at least one point of contact on my body at all times. It’s usually your hands, but sometimes it’s your head or even your toes— like when you tuck them under my leg.”

“Ugh— I’m sorry. Clingy and putting my feet on you,” she mumbled.

She might have been joking, but Anita’s words were replaying in his head. He couldn’t change what had happened in the past. He couldn’t go back and prevent her from being hurt by someone else. But he could be different in every way. He could be open and honest and vulnerable with her like he’d promised. 

“I’m not sorry. I love all of you,” he murmured, pulling her in closer and repeating her words back to her. 

“Even my feet?” 

He could also show her that there was absolutely nothing that he didn’t love about her. “Especially your feet.”

She huffed a sigh into his chest. “Y’got a foot thing I don’t know about?”

He laughed a little at that. “Only for yours. They’re very cute feet.”

“You’re weird,” she muttered, but she hugged him tighter when she said it.

“You love it.”

Her fingers on his tummy had come to rest comfortably just above his waistband, and he knew she was on the very edge of sleep. “Mmhm. Love you.”

He thought of all the little moments over the past few months.

Doesn’t live up to expectations? Sorry for overstepping. Are we dating? Sorry for being clingy. Sorry for taking so long to tell you. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “So much.”

———

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[roger-that-cap]

meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either. 

warnings: lots of emotions, feelings, slightly cynical and bitter reader- she’s honestly just being a realist, we are chugging forward, did not check for typos, format could be fucked up bc i’m posting from my phone quite literally minutes before i clock in- PATHETIC LMAO

word count: 2.7k

this is a short chapter by my standards, but it felt long to me because of the things in it??? this is part five! all other parts can be found on my masterlist, it’s my pinned post!

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Wanda asked while she tied your corset, not even needing to ask whether it was too tight or loose. You looked up in your vanity and immediately tried to wipe your smile away, but it was too late. She knew you better than anyone, and she had yet to see a thoughtful smile on your face, ever. Pietro, who had caught you going back inside the previous night, caught on to the fact that you looked more carefree, and that you just seemed to look like you were carrying around less. 

“Nothing.” 

“Hmm,” Wanda hummed, an entertained look on her face. Something told you that she already had an idea of what was going on, even though there was no way she could have. Besides, you hardly even knew what was going on. “I’ll ask again later.” She looked you in the eyes through the mirror, a slightly mischievous smile on her face. “Maybe then you’ll tell the truth,” she said, flicking you on the side of the head, and then letting it rest.

§§

Natasha was out in the village doing whatever it was the knights did one night, and she was planning on spending the night at a bed and breakfast before coming back in the morning. As disheartened as you were about not being able to see her for your stargazing, you were partly glad for it. You missed being with the twins. 

You had dinner with them alone, sitting and laughing about old memories and scheduling times to make new ones together. You loved the way you could be with them. Your laughter was allowed to go over the volume of a giggle without them looking at you like you had grown seven heads, your silverware were allowed to take a tumble onto your plate with a clatter without a second glance, and you were allowed to use whatever language you pleased. You missed the comfort that you felt with them, the comfort that your brain and the part of you that would always be the farm girl felt with them. 

“And Pietro chased him all the way off, you should have seen how terrified he was,” Wanda recapped, and you couldn't help but grin at Pietro, who was sipping wine with his charming grin. “That boy will never lift another skirt, I can assure you of that.” 

“I’m glad,” you mused, shooting Pietro a look that made him laugh. 

“Enough about me,” he said after swallowing a sip of his wine that was much more like a gulp. “We’re not going to talk about how you’ve been walking on the clouds for weeks now?” 

You nearly dropped your fork again. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve both realized,” Pietro said, motioning with his buttered knife towards his sister, who had a soft smile on her face as she observed your reaction. “That you have been significantly happier. Even with the circumstances-”

“Pietro,” Wanda hissed, but you just snorted and shook your head. 

“It’s like you found your own little pocket of happiness. We were worried about you, but, you’re doing alright.” Ever the blatant one out of the three of you, he leaned forward with his trademark smirk, eyes full of curiosity. “What do you know that we don't?” 

You hesitated for a second, mouth opening and closing twice as you grappled for anything to say, even a lie. And then, you settled on just shrugging your shoulders with a grin, shaking your head. “Honestly, Pietro, I know nothing. I don’t know anything.”

§§

Your heart was beating faster than normal as you looked at the woman next to you, your hand subconsciously itching closer to hers as you sat on the ground, ass on the blanket that you had brought out.  “I would like to… show you something.” 

It was probably the twentieth time that you and Natasha had met with each other, and still, you were entranced by her and everything that she did.  And you were entranced while you stared at her and waited for her answer, just a little nervous as to what she would say. 

As if she would ever say no to something you said. 

“Show me anything you’d like me to see,” Natasha urged on, and you fought back a smile. You stood up, and she did the same, and then you were picking up the blanket and walking side by side with her. It was quiet the entire way there as you walked in step with her, hand brushing against her every few steps and sending tingles down your arm every time it happened. 

The feeling that you got when she touched you made you feel both alive and scared to death. You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were steadily collecting more than friendly feelings for her, and that she may have been on the same page you were on. The game you were playing was a dangerous one, the risk threatening to swallow up the reward more and more by the day. 

You had known that being with her by yourself was bad judgement, ever since the first time you did it. Hell, the look you gave her the first time you met her was far from appropriate. Every single conversation that you had with her was a risk, and both of you knew it. And now that your soon-to-be husband was approaching, it was even more scandalous. No one knew and you hoped no one would ever find out, but hiding forever wasn’t a choice. But what would you be hiding if there were no true feelings? 

You hated yourself for falling for her and her pretty words. 

“I used to come here to escape,” you started, pulling yourself out of your thoughts, voice low as you passed the tree line to get into the thick of the woods. You narrowly missed stepping in a particularly muddy spot on the ground. “This was my spot, before I got the garden of course.”

“The woods?” 

“No, Nat,” you said, slightly amused as you stepped over a fallen branch. You smiled a bit when the sound of running water hit your ears.  “The stream.” 

You knew the exact second that she saw it, because her eyes widened and her breath hitched.  “That’s not a stream, that’s a river.”

“It’s the forgotten part of the main river,” you explained. “It’s much skinnier and more shallow, and it doesn't have nearly as much fish coming through, so people forget about it.” You looked towards her and saw how intrigued she was by it, so you judged her armor free body with a slight smirk. “What? Never seen running water?”

“I lived in the capital, all they had was the ocean. And even then I was never allowed on the harbor if I wasn’t selling clams, and I didn’t sell clams much.”

You felt silence start to grow between the two of you, so you said the first thing that you thought of. “You don’t look like a clam seller.” 

He looked away from the river and to you, a slight grin on her face even as she talked again. “And you don’t look like a petal kisser, blossom, but look where we are today.”

Your heart raced in your chest. “Blossom? Is that what you’re calling me now?” 

“It’s only payback for calling me ‘cherry’,” she said, and you stifled a laugh at the retired name, glancing up at the red hair that you had gotten inspiration from.  

“You didn’t actually mind it,” you said, looking off into the distance, only looking back at her when a warm hand slotted over yours. You blinked and looked down at your hands, which she had intertwined, and then back up at her again, only to see that she was staring straight ahead in the dark at the way the moonlight hit the water. 

“How could I?” She asked softly, a subtle breeze picking up.”You were the one saying it.” She looked at you, and in the dim lighting, you could have sworn that her eyes were saying, you can call me anything in the book, and I will own it proudly. And then, the look changed to something else, something less devoting, and something more passionate. It took you a few seconds to understand what the look meant, and before you could fully register it, she was leaning forward. 

A few seconds came and went where you could feel your heartbeat all over, and you tried to look somewhere other than in her eyes. You couldn't. “Don’t look at me like that.” When all Natasha did was tilt her head to the side and give you an even more intense version of the look, you let out a small sigh. “Please.”

“Why not?” 

She knew why. She knew why probably better than you did after living in the capital. She saw what happened firsthand to people who committed crimes, and those who committed second degree adultery. If you two did what you were wanting to do with your entire heart, you would fall right into that category. “I know where this is going,” you said softly, “and this won’t end well.” 

“Why not?” She asked again, and you turned your head to the side, shaking it slightly and closing your eyes. 

“Because, I’m about to get married,” you hissed, and though you didn’t mean to sound so angry, you did. Natasha was hardly affected. 

She lifted her arms and let them fall against her clothing with a soft slap that still echoed in the night. “You’re not married right now.” 

“But I will be, Natasha,” you said, gripping her hands and squeezing  them softly, begging for her to understand you. “What’s going to happen when I get married to a man who already has a streak for murdering his wives, and he finds out that I have feelings for you? He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you. And if he doesn’t, we’ll both be hung for adultery, after being put into torture camps for being… together as women.” 

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Y/N, you know that.” The fervency in her tone nearly shocked you as she took a bold step forward, nearly surrounding you in her scent and energy. “I would never let anything happen to you.” 

“You’re too important for me to condemn to death and dishonor just because I have feelings for you. It was selfish of me to meet with you in the first place, but I can’t let myself do this. It’s a bad idea,” You said, voice hushed even though no one would have followed you. You were trembling, hand shaking more than anything else as you tried to understand how fast everything was moving; forward and backwards, sewing together and ripping apart all the same. If you were any more attentive to her expression, you would have seen the grin that lit up her face as your confession. “We were just about to cross a line. We’ve crossed quite a few dotted ones, but this one? It is bold and blaring.” 

“Blossom,” Natasha started, and you just shook your head and kept going. 

“And-and what we were just about to do? That crosses the line. We cannot.” 

“Do you really think my feelings for you are going to change depending on whether or not we kiss?” She asked, her voice slightly deeper than usual, almost sounding insulted. “You’re telling me to close my heart off from you, not to not kiss you. And you know that.”  

“What if I am?” You asked, eyes starting to burn with tears. “I’m doing it for the right reasons, Nat. I’m trying to save us from a world of hurt when reality finally sinks in.”

“That isn’t today.” She took another step forward and this time, you couldn't find the strength in you to step back. “And it isn’t tomorrow, and not even within the fortnight. You and I have something, and I know that you know it’s different. It’s special. We would be so stupid to ignore it, so stupid.” 

“I know, I know,” you said, voice tapering off into a whine as you slowly felt your resolve come apart, even though you thought it was stronger. “I’m sorry.”

 “You don’t have to apologize,” Natasha said after a few minutes of pure silence, and you found yourself exhaling. “I just wish things were different.” 

  “I know,” she said, and you turned to look up at the sky, tears threatening to come down on your cheeks. The stars seemed to twinkle and wink at you, talking amongst themselves about a future you had no idea about just yet. 

“Guess they’re never gonna line up,” you murmured to yourself, and then you heard Natasha grumble something from your side, and then she was coming closer, a barreling energy force full of passion and intent, and you knew exactly what she was coming for. For less than a split second, you thought about it. And then you turned your head and met her halfway. 

You would have been surprised by the passion in it if you weren’t just as desperate for the contact. You twisted in her arms, already wrapped around you as she drew you in close, closer than you had ever been with her, and the tears that were welling up before were now escaping for a different reason. Your lips were pressing into hers, moving fluidly and with an air of fervor that she matched equally. You felt wanted, and needed, and you felt loved. You felt the tenderness of the moment with every brush of her fingers on the back of your neck and with every rub of your back over the thin material of your night dress. 

Your legs were shaking, and she noticed before you did that you were getting weak in the knees. She held you up and pulled back slightly, just enough for you to feel her lips brush against yours while she asked if you were okay, like she wasn’t willing to take herself from you just yet. And honestly, you weren’t ready for her to leave you, either. You nodded, and she leaned in again, much slower, and then you had time to think. 

Her eyes weren’t the same shade they were when the sun hit them, they were almost an eerie pale blue, but they were still just as gorgeous to you, especially now that they were slanted with desire. Her hair wasn’t perfect like she somehow always managed or it to be, and you realized that it was because you had gotten a hand to run through it despite the way that she had previously held you like a lifeline. Her lashes were long, and you swore that she was close enough that you could count them. Her cheekbones were accentuated in the lighting, making her look like something straight out of a fairy tale, like a floating fae creature that led people to safety. In that moment, you could have sworn that she was the answer to every prayer you had ever whispered, to every question you had ever asked your etiquette teachers. In that moment, and in every moment to come, she was your ending and beginning, your creation and destruction, your sunrise and sunset. She was Natasha Romanoff, and in that moment, no wedding or murderous man even held a candle to the way you felt about her.

  What a beautiful person. 

“Now you’re looking at me strangely,” Natasha said, her voice quieter than you had ever heard it as the both of you treated over the moment carefully, trying not to break it and leave it in shambles. “What are you thinking about?” 

“How I’m going to have to pretend like this never happened in a few weeks,” you said softly, and part of you hated yourself for bringing up the bad part of the future so soon after you both had just lost all ties to reality. 

“You don’t have to,” she said, stroking your hair. “We can just keep doing what we’re doing, sneaking off in the night and coming back in the morning before anyone realizes. Nothing really has to change, I just want you to know that I… that we can be whatever you want us to be.” 

“As long as we’re in the confines of the garden walls.” 

“And now the woods,” Natasha said, and you couldn’t help but laugh in her arms. 

“And now the woods."

****

this is short, but i couldn’t see anything being tacked on to this. we’re at an important part, and from here it’s gonna be fun!! thank y’all for reading; if you liked it please drop a like and a reblog bc it makes my day!! comments also make me ascend y’all

tags!! : tags! : @teenwonder @saamwilscn @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife​ @shycucumbersandwich @dailyavengering @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @chickenhavewisdom

so sorry if i forgot anyone!!!!!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Now I want the story where NMJ is half war god and NHS is half fox spirit, thank you so much xD

based on this tumblr post and Lao Nie’s decision to refer to WRH as A-Han in this one ficlet

on ao3

Nie Zonghui had long ago suspected that his Sect Leader was a madman, but he didn’t really know it for certain until the first time he lost the man while on a bodyguarding mission – his first, and a great honor. 

Supposedly.

“It’s all right,” his father said, looking long-suffering, when he reported back in distress. “He’s an adult, our sect leader, and this is a small city with no major threats in the middle of some idiosyncratic festival celebration for some goddess or another. How much damage can he really do before he sobers up?”

Nie Zonghui stared at his father, then turned to his mother, who was also staring at her husband with an expression of sincere incredulity.

“Lots,” she supplied. “Lots and lots and lots, and that’s assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the meantime. Why would you even say that?”

“He’s our sect leader, have some respect.”

“I respect the boss bull of the herd, too, but it doesn’t mean I let it go wandering around the fields wherever it pleases!” She shook her head, snorting in a manner not entirely unlike a bull herself. “Well, if we’re very lucky, maybe our cousin will knock up a cow while he’s out and about rather than just breaking things. We could use a direct heir already; he’s not getting any younger.”

“We could use him being properly married is what we could use. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant – ah, Zonghui, you’re still here? Go gather some cultivators and go look for him, but don’t kick up any fuss, and worry too much if you can’t find him at once. He’ll be back to business soon enough.”

He was, if by “soon enough” one meant “after nearly ten days” and by “back to business” one meant “still drunk off his ass and waxing rhapsodic about some girl he met and possibly married”.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure the sun shines out of her ass,” Nie Zonghui’s father said, his face stormy. “You still could’ve told us where you went. Look what you did to poor Zonghui, he’s been wearing down his heels pacing in worry over you!”

“Oh, heels, yes, did I mention that my gorgeous goddess had amazing legs, too?” their sect leader asked with a soppy smile and stars in his eyes, totally uninterested in any of their petty complaints. “She could kill a man with them – oh, but I would die a happy man between those thighs…!”

“Zonghui, go guard the outside door,” his mother told him. “Also, tell his younger sister that she might need to be sect leader sooner than she’d hoped, because I’m going to murder this fucking –”

-

Nie Zonghui was there, too, when ten months later his new little baby cousin was (metaphorically) ditched on their doorstep.

The entire thing was entirely too dramatic for his taste, and yes, he was aware that as a person who chose to dual wield sabers he had very little room to criticize others for being overly dramatic, however correct he might be.

They had been fighting bandits – barely disguised mercenaries, really, probably paid off by the Wen sect to harass them – in what had turned into a particularly bad situation. Three separate regiments had joined together to take advantage of a terrible thunderstorm and ambush them at all once and them with their backs against a raging river, swollen with rain to the precipice of flooding, with no way to retreat except by fleeing on their sabers, abandoning the common people they were protecting and losing all face. 

The sect leader had been raging on the battlefield, saber in hand, but even he had seen that they would need to shortly choose between death and dishonor; Nie Zonghui, close by his side, had seen how his face was split with a terrible scowl as he wracked his brain for more options.

Then there had been a terrible roar of thunder, and then a flash of light that had blinded them all.

Nie Zonghui had immediately noted the anomality of it, thunder first and lightning second, and wondered it if it was some sort of array working against them, especially when the light had not faded away but grown brighter, causing searing pain in his eyes that made him fall and clutch at his face. But he was a good soldier, loyal and true, and he forced his eyes open to squint into the night, looking to see he did not know what.

Through his sun-blindness, he vaguely thought he could see a silhouette not unlike that of a woman, ten feet tall and radiant as the sun, wearing a dress of nine colors and carrying a guandao in her hand that seemed to reach the clouds, but when he blinked again he saw nothing at all.

Or, well, he did see something: all of their enemies were headless, no matter where on the battlefield they were, their bodies dropping like a loosened string of coins where they had been standing and splattering anyone they were fighting with blood as they gawped at the sudden corpses.

Also, the sect leader was suddenly holding something in his arms when he hadn’t been before.

“What’s that?” Nie Zonghui asked, and the sect leader turned towards him. Nie Zonghui squinted, and suddenly wondered if this entire battle had been a very bad dream. “…is that a baby?”

“Yes,” the sect leader said, grinning broadly. “He’s my son!”

“He’s your what,” Nie Zonghui said.

“My son! I didn’t know about him, of course – apparently he came as something of a surprise to her as well – but anyway she thought that it would be more appropriate for me to raise him, all things considered. A baby doesn’t quite fit her lifestyle. What do you think of ‘Mingjue’ as a courtesy name? Good, yes?”

Nie Zonghui suddenly understood why his parents were always cursing all the time.

-

“I don’t see why I need another wife,” the sect leader said. “I already have a son.”

“Don’t you want to give said son a mother?” Nie Zonghui’s mother asked, her arms crossed. “One that isn’t the Dark Lady of the Nine Heavens, the war goddess you somehow managed to knock up without getting killed?”

“She never specified that she was –”

“Someone needs to be Nie-furen,” the sect leader’s younger sister interrupted, “because I am sick and tired of doing the job, and it’s a little difficult to ask a goddess to do it. So you are going to find yourself another one that’s a little closer to the ground this time, you understand me?”

The sect leader nodded and agreed, which was universally agreed upon to be the only appropriate reaction when his beloved meimei said something in that particular tone of voice.

(He did, after a suitable period of time, state that he wanted to make clear that there was no actual evidence that he had knocked up Jiutian Xuannü and that it was quite plausible that the mother of his heir was nothing more than a rogue cultivator of particular strength and possibility even immortality. If Baosan Sanren had managed it, why not someone else?)

At any rate, they brought him several pictures of women that might fit the bill and who would not be too offended at being asked to be a secondary wife – their sect leader swore up and down that he had performed bows with the mother of his first son, rendering him legitimate, and anyway no one was in the mood to see if the maybe-a-goddess would take offense to someone calling her child a bastard – but none seemed to catch their sect leader’s interest.

“Consider visiting a few brothels,” Nie Zonghui’s great-uncle suggested. “Anything to get you back in the habit of thinking about women of a less divine nature – though of course we’d prefer that she be literate.”

The sect leader scowled and stalked off to go night-hunting instead.

“I don’t like brothels,” he said to Nie Zonghui as they made their way through an especially deserted mountain valley in search of something that had murdered all the local mensfolk in the surrounding villages with especial viciousness. “Surely there’s an option in between.”

Nie Zonghui preferred his sabers to either men or women, but he obediently wracked his brain to think of where people in stories and famous songs found their wives. “Innkeeper’s daughters?” he finally suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the sect leader scoffed, but the very next day, he decided to break his usual habit of staying out in the wild no matter the weather in favor of taking shelter from the encroaching storm in a small inn right at the base of an especially lonesome and nasty-looking cliff.

“We’re always happy to have guests,” the innkeeper said with a somewhat sinister smile – he was pale as a ghost in the guttering candlelight, and his lips looked very red. “My daughter will show you to your rooms.”

The daughter in question was inhumanly beautiful: small and graceful, with a fox’s face and dark hair that fell to her knees.

“Wow,” the sect leader said, staring at her. “You know, I think you could kill me with those nails of yours.”

Nie Zonghui took a look and agreed with the sentiment, seeing that her nails were as long as claws and looked just as sharp, but apparently he and the sect leader had somewhat different interpretations of this sequence of events and plans on how to address it.

Namely, Nie Zonghui pointed out that the lady was obviously some sort of yao or maybe a gui and that she was probably the one seducing the local mensfolk, draining their yang energy and then slaughtering them, and therefore that it was undoubtedly their duty as cultivators – and cultivators of the Nie sect in particular – to put an end to her vile deeds through the swift application of their sabers. Furthermore, he explained, they should take care never to allow themselves to be alone with her in the process, lest she seek to entrance them with her seductive magics and lure them to their undoubtedly violent deaths.

The sect leader’s rebuttal to this line of logic was limited to “I’m the sect leader and if I want to bang the probably-a-ghost, I’m going to bang the ghost and there’s nothing you can do to stop me”.

Amazingly enough, the sect leader did not end up dead the next day – the innkeeper looked just as surprised as Nie Zonghui felt – and instead announced, very happily, that he was planning on marrying her.

“You what,” the innkeeper said, staring at his very smug-looking ‘daughter’. In light of dawn, she was wearing a dress of many colors with a foxfur ruff, and her beauty was almost painful to behold.

“You why,” Nie Zonghui moaned.

“You shut up,” the sect leader told him. “I’ll have you know that my lady here is very clever, literate and well-learned, and she doesn’t at all mind being the second wife. Weren’t you one of the ones on my case about getting a Nie-furen to help managing things back home?”

“I didn’t think we needed to specify that the person in question didn’t murder a lot of people!”

“Isn’t his first wife supposedly a war goddess?” the lady inquired, her clever eyes dancing in amusement.

“Well…yes…”

“Also, all those men deserved it,” she said. After a brief pause, she added, “In my opinion as a totally unrelated observer, of course.”

“See?” the sect leader said, putting his arm around her waist. “No problem. Anyway, she’ll stick to killing bad people from now on, it’s fine.”

The lady smiled. There were many teeth in that smile, and they were very sharp.

“If she doesn’t, I’ll have my first wife discipline her,” the sect leader added and her smile abruptly disappeared.

Nie Zonghui coughed into his hand, but reluctantly admitted that maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as all that.

-

“Huaisang is a lovely name,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, being the best of them at diplomacy when she put her mind to it, although admittedly it was something she did only very rarely. “I think we were just expecting something a little different, that’s all.”

“Possibly something a little more fox related,” Nie Zonghui’s father said.

“Please,” the sect leader’s second wife said. “That would be gauche.”

They looked at her.

“…all of my suggestions along those lines got rejected,” she admitted, and glared at the small shrine in the corner as if it had personally wronged her. In this context, it very well might have.

“Is there anything we should keep an eye out for?” Nie Zonghui said, watching his little cousin carry around his even littler cousin under his arm as if he were a sack of potatoes and not a baby that hadn’t yet had its first month celebration. He would have interfered but for the fact that little Nie Huaisang seemed to be notably more in control of his various limbs than the usual infant. “A tail, for instance?”

“Oh, no,” the second lady said. “Nothing like that.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“It’s very rare for fox children to achieve a grand plot worthy of a tail in their first lifetime.” A pause. “From what I understand, that is.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “…great.”

“You’ll take good care of him when I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked, and when they all looked at her, smiled. “Not for another year or two, don’t worry, but I really can’t stay here that long. Sometimes, a girl’s got urges she has to take care of.”

“The sort of urges where we’d need to hunt down a mysteriously appearing fox yao for having murdered a lot of people?”

“I already promised to stop killing people,” she said sulkily. “Although I do think I made some plausible arguments in favor of a little bit of entirely justified murder in connection with the Jin sect and maybe the Lan sect and, oh, the Jiang sect –”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s not my fault your Great Sects are all headed by men who wrong women.”

“You’re not wrong,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, and Nie Zonghui’s father looked alarmed. “But still, don’t.”

“You’re such spoilsports. But no, as it happens, it’s getting to that time when I need to return home for a while to pay my respects to the older generation.”

“How often does that happen?” Nie Zonghui’s father asked. “Once a century?”

“A gentleman shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” she sniffed. “At any rate, my family home is rather far away and they’re fairly insular, so I’ll probably be gone for at least a decade or so. I’d take the baby with me, but, well, you know, long travel and all. He’s better off sticking with his father.”

“All right,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said. “We understand, and we’ll help take care of him as best we can.”

“I’m glad.”

“We have only one thing to ask of you in return.”

Their second lady arched her delicate eyebrows.

Nie Zonghui’s mother smiled. “You be the one to tell your sister-in-law that you’re leaving your post.”

“…you know, on second thought, maybe I can push my departure out a few more years…”

-

“Before you say anything, I want to be clear right now that I don’t need a third wife,” their sect leader said. “I’m fine.”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, not unaffectionately. “You’re not allowed a third wife.”

“And therefore – wait, really?” he asked, a little skeptically. “You’re not concerned about me?”

“Oh, we’re very concerned about you,” Nie Zonghui’s father said. “But not in that specific respect. Some celibacy would probably be good for you, at least in terms of increasing your life expectancy.”

“…my sister is lying in wait with a cleaver to make sure she doesn’t have to take on the duties of Nie-furen again, isn’t she.”

“I’m not discounting that possibility, but don’t worry about it, it’s fine, we’ll talk to her. The Lan sect haven’t had a proper hostess in years either, we can just say we’re following their example.”

The sect leader eyed his cousins beadily. “They haven’t had a proper sect leader in years, either.”

“No, you don’t say,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said dryly. “What a coincidence -”

“You have two fine sons,” Nie Zonghui’s father said hastily. “That seems like enough, really.”

“You don’t think they need a mother…?”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui interjected politely. “While we admit that it may be within your capabilities to be able to find a mother willing to deal with one step-son who has been waiving around a saber taller than he is since he learned to walk and has a penchant for the unyielding, unmerciful and very violent application of the norms of divine justice –”

Nie Mingjue’s presence bolstered the spirit of good men, while his gaze seemed to make evildoers itch. He was the most earnestly good person Nie Zonghui had ever met, and also one of the most stiff and unbending in respect to what he believed should and should not be done.

Unfortunate that his standards didn’t seem to match up to the needs of either human law or diplomacy…

“– as well as another who can scheme circles around anyone and persuade them of anything as long as he puts his mind to it and only doesn’t because he’s too busy lazing around in the sun to bother –”

Nie Huaisang liked to file his nails down to something that looked quite normal, but they grew sharp quickly enough if he wasn’t paying attention, and he had a penchant for pranks. There was nothing quite as unnerving as running into a sudden and unexpected ambush and then suddenly hearing the shrill peal of a fox’s laughter, hidden behind a scholarly fan.

“– but all things considered, we’d really rather you - didn’t.”

His mother and father nodded fervently.

“Good,” the sect leader said, though he still looked suspiciously at them as if he thought they were hiding something. “Good. As long as we’re agreed.”

-

Nie Zonghui walked in on his sect leader pinning the Wen sect leader to a wall, murmuring something in a low voice with a very particular smile on his face, and then he turned around and walked right back out again.

The sect leader of the Wen sect might appear beautiful and young, but he was at least a generation older than the Nie sect leader. Not that that had stopped the latter from relying on their respective positions to refer to him in startlingly intimate terms – my dear A-Han, the sect leader would say with a touch of wickedness that reminded one of his second son and the tiger gall bravery of his first – and while at first the Wen sect leader had taken it as a challenge to his authority, an act of brash insolence, it appeared that they had progressed beyond that.

That the Wen sect leader already had three wives and two concubines apparently didn’t present any obstacles either – except perhaps in what those poor women might have to endure from their husband when he returned from the wretched teasing he was enduring. Nie Zonghui felt a bit of pity for them.

Shortly thereafter, he felt a bit of pity for himself. The Wen sect had long dreamed of dominating the cultivation world and sought to increase their influence with the other sects through underhanded means, with the Nie sect opposing them at every turn. Even if war was not on the immediate horizon, the wise could smell its distant approach in the air - the best estimates said that it would take another decade or two to arrive, unless the Nie sect leader took an especially hard stance.

It appeared, however, that the Nie sect leader had chosen to take a different sort of…hard stance.

Ugh.

Maybe Nie Zonghui could conspire to throw his sect leader into a cage with a live tiger in heat next time he felt in the mood. It’d probably be less dangerous.

Nie Zonghui had assumed that the first person to talk to him about what he had seen would be his sect leader, even if it was only to remind him of the general rule that the sect leader had ultimate power and therefore could exercise his own bad judgment in deciding to fuck whoever he wished, but instead it was the Wen sect leader that found him later that afternoon.

A flush had yet to fully fade from his cheeks, and Nie Zonghui raised his eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking directly at the man in front of him. 

He did not want to know. Others might, given that no one had ever complained about the looks of either party, but he himself had realized long ago that he had no interest in matters of the flesh under any circumstances; he was very content with that conclusion.

“Is there some service this one can provide to Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely, and it was only when the sect leader flushed again that he realized belatedly that his words could be misconstrued. After all, his own sect leader had probably already made a similar offer regarding the provision of services…

“Your sect leader has a sister, doesn’t he?” the other man asked, his voice tight and his hands in even tighter fists. “I’m not misremembering that?”

“He does,” Nie Zonghui responded honestly, and not without sympathy for the Wen sect leader’s position. He was given to understand that making certain belated discoveries regarding one’s own preferences could be highly disconcerting, particularly later in life. “But she’s rather different in kind than what you may be thinking, so it won’t work out that way. It wouldn’t work even if she wasn’t already married, which she is.”

After a moment of thought, he added, “Also, consider your predecessors.”

The Wen sect leader’s eyes narrowed.

-

Really, it was the sect leader’s own damn fault that he got himself murdered.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part II

Part I (complete)

Part III (complete)

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Making deals with a vampire was one thing, (Y/N) supposed, but fulfilling such a deal was quite another.

When Zeke— who held the contradictory position of the regional Commander of the Hunters as well as the alpha of a local werewolf pack— had approached her with the idea of infiltrating Eren Jaeger's inner circle, she had jumped at the chance; her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather really had been Jean Kirschtein, and she had read his old journal, and her curiosity about the Old Ways was always bubbling just beneath her skin. Zeke, she thought, must have known of her curiosity, because his offer had been everything she was searching for.

You'll have your answers, he told her, And we'll have ours. One way or another, the problem of Eren Jaeger will be solved through your efforts. There is no possible way to lose.

If only she had known how wrong Zeke had been.

At first, things with Eren were simple— well, as simple as things could be with such a delicate arrangement. It had been beyond easy to bait him into approaching her at the Creature bar on 76th Street, and aside from the first time, allowing time for Eren to feed was almost nothing. Even the process of feeding itself wasn't much of an ordeal— there was hardly any pain since he drew from her wrist after a warm soak, and the whole thing took less than five minutes— but around the second time, when the visions began, things began to be… different.

Little snippets of Eren's past began to come as the two of them interacted more and increased the amount of regular feedings. Sometimes it was as little as a feeling, a memory of a face that (Y/N) had never seen before; other times, it was like (Y/N) was truly there centuries ago, in a land that would one day become her home. Now, almost every time she let Eren drink from her, she was thrust back into a world where humanity was (literally) with it's back against the wall, fighting demons and mindless monsters just to survive; and, sometimes, the visions were so intense that she would come back from them terrified, shaking, and incapable of cogent thought. It was during those times that Eren held her, silent, resigned, and yet somehow caring until she was herself again.

It was strange; in the visions, Eren was often passionate to a fault. He was wild, like an animal, but kind, too. During times like these, when he cradled her in his arms as she was trembling with the force of a particularly poignant memory, (Y/N) wondered if the centuries had truly changed him, or if he hid that passion beneath the jaded indifference she had come to expect.

"You think too much," he told her as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Your heart is racing."

Of course it was— the terror of watching hundreds of people be consumed by the very wrath of hell itself would do that to a person— but (Y/N) had no rebuttal. She did think too much, and the end result was muddled reports sent back to Zeke and a clouded heart.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question. Mikasa— the brave, beautiful woman that Jean Kirschtein had once loved— may not have always known it, but Eren truly had felt very deeply for her.

"More than life," Eren replied.

(Y/N) thought back to the memory— the sheer panic Eren had felt at the thought of losing his comrades, the desperation with which he strove to save them— and she amended her statement.

"You loved them all."

Eren hummed.

"More than the wide, wide world."

And (Y/N) thought that, perhaps, he truly meant it.

"What did you see this time?" he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) pulled back so that she and Eren were face to face, her legs straddling him. His eyes were glowing-green, and she shivered beneath their scrutiny.

"I saw a field full of demons," she told him, unable to meet his gaze. "You and Mikasa were defenseless, yourself having been pushed to your limit, and Mikasa's blades having been broken. There was nowhere to run, and you— you screamed, and—"

A large, warm hand caressed her cheek, and it occurred to (Y/N) that it was her own blood within Eren that gave him such warmth with which to comfort. She placed her smaller hand atop his, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment to allow this brief, intimate interlude.

"Do you understand now?" he asked as he did almost every time she had a vision. "Do you see why I did what I did?"

As always, (Y/N) shook her head, moving his hand from her face.

"No, I don't."

The response was never met with anger or frustration; Eren was only ever resigned to it. Before, (Y/N) might have felt scorn for such a man who cared so little, but now that she had seen who Eren had been, what he'd been through… perhaps he was simply tired of caring so much.

"You're beautiful when you're thinking."

The words caught (Y/N) off guard. She had known that Eren had thought she was attractive— his emotional feedback told her that much— but she had never thought that he would voice such a thought. The compliment heated her cheeks, and (Y/N) had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I've always thought," said Eren, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "That one can never truly appreciate the beauty of a blush until one could see it with the eyes of a vampire, or smell it as it rises on the cheek."

Eren placed a hand on her face, tilting it until their eyes were level.

"And as a vampire who has seen many beautiful blushes on many beautiful women, yours is the most bewitching of all."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly.

"Why are you saying this?"

Eren cocked his head to the side, studying her. It was a long moment before he spoke, but when he did, he gave an answer that (Y/N) was not expecting.

"Because it's true, and because I would very much like to kiss you."

(Y/N)'s heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't dare move one way or the other. She just stared at Eren, slack-jawed, as he stared patiently back.

"Why?" she asked when she had collected herself.

Eren shrugged. "Does that matter?"

(Y/N) supposed very much that it did matter, but she didn't feel the need to say so. She studied Eren closely— the latent hunger in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the stain of her blood on his lips— and she thought of how gentle he had been with her, how patient. She had no doubt that he would prove to be equally so in other matters, and she wanted him— but something stopped her.

It would be wrong of me to allow this, she thought, letting her eyes wander to Eren's lips. I'm his enemy, a spy for the Hunters. Allowing him and myself the potential of intimacy is too deep a betrayal, even for me.

Even so, she didn't stop him as he shifted her closer; even so, when his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back, tasting her own blood on his tongue.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered against his lips, shifting in his lap.

"How young you are," he said in return. "There is no such thing as a bad idea, only poor timing and execution. Take it from someone who has centuries of experience; rarely ever is the regret for having done something greater than the regret of not having done it."

So saying, he kissed her again, and (Y/N) threaded her hands in his hair as he reached beneath her shirt. His hands— warm, now, with the heat of her own blood— reached beneath the cup of her bra to cradle her breasts, and she exhaled a hiss as his fingertips found her nipples. She arched into him, pressing her flesh into his hands and parting their lips; he chuckled, dark and low, and she shivered at the sound.

"How many other Creatures have you tricked like this?" he asked, pressing kisses against her neck. "Tell me, pretty girl— just how many have fallen prey to your charms so that you can run back to your little doggy master with their deepest, darkest secrets?"

(Y/N) froze, stuck somewhere between fear, dread, and ecstasy. Eren knew— somehow, he knew— and yet he continued to touch her, kiss her, caress her as though nothing were amiss. Her whole body went still with shock, but Eren never stopped even for a moment.

"Come now, you can't think I didn't know." His lips were just below her ear now, and he closed his teeth around the lobe, teasing her with the sensation. "I can smell him on the papers in your bag; I can hear the clicking of the letters as you type your memos after I've pieced you back together for an evening. Most of all, I can hear the way your heart pumps a little faster when I feed you the information you want. I can taste your guilt in the very blood I take from you. You can hide nothing from me."

"Eren," she said as fear— rancid and terrible— began crawling up the back of her throat, "Eren, please, I haven't told him about the important things, I'm trying to make a case for you—"

He pulled away then, and when his piercing green eyes locked with her own, she stilled like a sparrow caught in the gaze of a cobra.

"I don't care," he replied simply. "You are what you are, and at your core, you cannot change that. It is the same with me. I'm not afraid of my half-mutt half-brother no matter what you tell him, and as long as you want what I have to offer, there's no reason not to take it for your own."

(Y/N)'s mind was reeling.

"Half-brother?"

Eren chuckled at her confusion.

"Oh yes, pretty one. Zeke Jaeger is my older brother, and I suspect he sent you to me just to you with the both of us." With a carnivorous grin, he added, "But little does he know that I play for keeps, and you're not the good little Huntress he must assume you are— that is to say, he must have no clue at all how hungry you are for vampire cock, hm?"

(Y/N) would be lying if she hadn't pictured Eren in… less than appropriate situations, but for fuck's sake, she wasnt blind. The man— vampire, Creature, whatever— was fucking gorgeous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't mean she was gagging for it.

Did it?

"We can't do this," she said, pushing at Eren's chest, though he didn't budge an inch. "We shouldn't do this."

Eren cracked a grin, toothy with fangs that glistened.

"Says who?" he asked, his large, strong hands coming around to grab her by the ass. "You were perfectly fine with letting me kiss and touch when you thought I was in the dark— is it no longer any fun now that you don't feel like you're taking advantage of me?"

(Y/N) couldn't take it.

"Eren, be serious—"

"I am serious."

When she looked in his eyes and reached out with her own heart, (Y/N) knew that he was telling the truth. He wanted her regardless of anything, regardless of everything.

He simply wanted her.

Could that be so bad?

***

Eren didn't think that this would happen even in his wildest dreams, but when he saw (Y/N) splayed out on his gold silk sheets, he knew it wasn't the madness that Armin accused him of lying to himself about. No mind, well and whole or not, could ever conjure up such a vision. The woman who lay before him— naked and gorgeous— was beyond imagining. She was something from another world entirely.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled as Eren stood over her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. "Come hold me."

And how lovely was that? His natural enemy, his perfect prey, asking him to come hold her, as though his skin on hers was blessed assurance that he was there and wanting.

Maybe Eren was mad— or, perhaps he was dreaming. If he was, he hoped he never came back to himself. A world without this was not a world he ever wanted to return to.

"Yes," she hissed as he crawled atop her, his mouth suckling at her breast. No other creature that walked the earth could ever taste as sweet as her— having tasted many, many before, Eren would know— but even were that to be disproved, Eren wasn't sure he would much care. This woman would be his undoing.

"Touch me," she demanded, canting her hips up to him. "I want to feel you."

How could Eren ever deny her? He brought a hand down to her sex, caressing her there before parting her folds to quest for her clit. Having found it, he drew small, teasing circles, and she whined.

"Am I still a monster to you?" he asked into the hollow of her throat, placing biting kisses there as his hand kept busy with its work. "Still something to hate and abhor?"

"You're still a monster," she replied, so startlingly honest even now, "But I never once hated you. Oh Eren, please, I want you inside me, I—"

Her wish was his command; Eren plunged two fingers into her depths, and (Y/N) gasped at the intrusion. She was so wet already, and so tempting as she squeezed down on those fingers, rocking her hips as he withdrew them just to the tip and repeated the motion. The way she felt around his digits shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but as Eren slid in a third finger, he had to keep himself from letting out a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he told her as she writhed beneath him. "You truly, truly are."

Distantly, Eren wondered what Jean would think if he were alive to know who was finger-fucking his great-granddaughter, but when Eren remembered the nasty right hooks the taller man used to give him when he was being a shit, he figured that he would rather not know. Still, as he watched (Y/N) come undone on the tip of his fingers, he couldn't help but think that perhaps it was something of Jean's spirit— the part that even Eren had to admit was better, kinder, more human than most— that drew him to her.

"I want you," he said, withdrawing his hands and licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Do you feel ready enough?"

And then, as though to prove his point, (Y/N) sat straight up with the cutest little Jean-like scowl he had ever seen and pushed at his chest with no small amount of force. He went with the motion, and he found himself being mounted by her as she said,

"I'm not made of glass— if you can't wrap your head around that, I'll have to show you just what I'm capable of."

She did— and how! Powerful thighs— the thighs of a Hunter— levered her up and down on his cock, squeezing him until he thought he might die from it. He thought she was never going to stop impaling herself again and again, and by the time she did eventually tire, Eren was sort of hoping she never would. He was in ecstasy with her, and like the selfish bastard he was, he wanted it to last forever.

"Such fire," he said, reaching up to press kisses into the skin just between her breasts. "You've made your point, now let me take over."

Let me take care of you.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as he thrust up into her, the head of his cock buried so deeply within her that he marveled at how she didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. "Oh fuck, right there, please don't stop—"

Eren didn't stop; he couldn't. He was beyond restraint.

"May I?" He asked, tapping the wrist that was trapped in his right hand. "I won't take much, but I want to show you something."

Delirious, drunk with lust, (Y/N) nodded, and Eren pierced her skin with a single fang, letting a drop of blood fall onto his tongue. In that moment, as they connected physically, her blood connected them spiritually, and Eren groaned as he physically felt how close she was through the link he had created.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, and Eren buried himself as deeply as he could within her as he came. "Oh, oh, oh—"

And then (Y/N) was following him, shaking and gasping as her orgasm overtook her. It seemed that the world had stopped existing for a moment, and Eren found it hard to breathe even though he had no particular need to do so at all.

In the afterglow, they clung to each other like the survivors of a shipwreck; when the world began to exist again, it felt new, and as Eren closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that this changed everything.

I must keep her, he thought as sleep overtook him. I don't know if I could feel like this ever again for anyone else.

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 1

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Stories end one day once they begin. With that in mind, one might deem clinging to themselves, to other people or to anything else in the world as a little foolish. Same for how fiercely their heart was burning. Or how it cried for these things. It would all disappear like a dream eventually. One could think that even just putting in some effort was meaningless. Yet it had started.

Born through some sort of cue, anyone would breathe. Open their eyes. Learn to let out their voice. Figure how to walk. Come to understand what love was. Receive affection. Find out that it was a sickness, and either stop or give continuity to it. Nobody was taught how to cure it. There were also those who never even once accepted it from anyone.

Whatever the case, no one was allowed to stop for as long as they were part of this story, of this world. While living, people would be continuously be involved with death. But if morning came, night would also follow. Hunger would abate and sleep would invite one to the floor. Even after losing love, people craved for it. With its eyes cast down to forfeit, the world gradually emitted a new shine. Manifestation of beauty and hideous collapses were in progress at the same time. There was no eternity, but things went on. The story would continue. The world would go round. Even if it would meet its end one day.

Even without you there, morning would come.

   Blue eyes opened.

Purple flower petals fluttered gently in front of her eyes and passed her. They touched her as if to cause tickles, and then disappeared. The illusions of the past that had been surfacing dissipated slowly.

Her wild beast self and her named self. All of the past dissolved into reality, dragged back into the present. Here, there was neither a beast nor the man that it used to call “Major”.

The boat lethargically moved through a large river, an Auto-Memories Doll on it. The rowing of the boater, who wore a big hat, was quite something. For it to cause a chance meeting between her and her past, that had to be a good boater.

The girl, Violet – Violet Evergarden – was looking for someone.

Whenever she opened her eyes, she would wind up doing it. Looking for the person who had given her as much as he could give and then vanished. Looking for the person that she had hurt as much as she could hurt and not managed to protect.

Of course, he was nowhere in sight. There was no way he would be in such a place. She knew it. However, she would end up searching. Her most beloved lord had supposedly died long ago, yet she would find herself searching for him. Even an apparition would do; she only wanted to see him at least one more time.

The world he was gone from had livened up anew and its colors were vibrant. Violet had to live in said world. She had to live in this fresh hell. She could no longer receive orders. Neither could she chase after his back. There were limits to what she could do.

It was easy for people to tell her to move on. However, that was a great difficulty for her. Violet had been told to live. Just as ordered, without attempting to die, she was living while burdened with this difficulty.

“Miss, what is it you’re looking for?”

At that time, Violet was still not a full-fledged human.

   The Rose and the Auto-Memories Doll

   “Wait,” I prayed.

The dark red ribbons tying her golden hair. The pleats on her white ribbon-tie dress. The light blue umbrella. As if playing around, all of these things fluttered in the wind.

——Wait for me.

It was hard to breathe. Flowers from the jacaranda trees were blocking my field of vision. Their beauty erased everything that could be seen. Yet they were nothing but a hindrance now. What I yearned for wasn’t them.

——Please, wait for me.

Tears welled up. I didn’t know whether they were tears of sadness, relief or frustration.

I didn’t understand anything anymore. What was I doing? I didn’t know. Surely, I had never known. I didn’t even know that I was hurting.

——Wait.

If there was one thing I knew, it was that I wanted her to take me away from here.

“Violet, wait.”

That was all.

——So please, wait up; don’t leave me behind.

   It was spring. When it came to the four seasons, spring was surely the best one.

I first met her at a time when lilac blossoms were in bloom. Lightly, nimbly, they fluttered down. It was a season where purple flower petals danced in the sky. Spring. A season of sprouting.

What color came to people’s minds when they talked about spring, I wondered. It was probably a different one depending on where each of them lived. Pink cheery blossoms were scattered around higher lands. I had heard that bougainvillea flowers dyed a certain region in pure white. Apparently, the sight of green stems stretching out from within the snow thaw was the face of spring in some places. As for me, when the topic was spring, it had to be jacaranda trees.

The Jacaranda River was located among the mountains of the d’Arthur Region at southwest of the continent. It was a large river surrounded by steep mountains that rose like giants. Bearing the same name, jacaranda trees were planted along said river as if to enclose it, and during the flowering seasons, the color of the water surface would turn violet.

Ordinary trees had their branches, fruits and leaves pointed downward, but jacaranda flowers grew pointing upward, almost like a hand holding a bouquet. Just one of those flowering trees was already a feast to the eyes, so it was simply magnificent when there were many of them together. The sky was blue; the earth was a cloud of purple. Even God would easily let out a sigh when looking down at this scene from the heavens.

There were countless small communities in the vicinities of the Jacaranda River, and in order to go from the outside to a piece of land that had a settlement on it, one basically had to move by boat. Hence why it was so easy for the people who lived in this neighborhood to become sailors as a job. The pay, in contrast, was not so rewarding, but not to the point of making anyone go hungry. People coming from other places would gather into crowds to see the jacaranda trees during springtime and there was demand from the locals even outside of the busy seasons. So I would continue on my job here forever and never lose it.

In this world, inside this little story of mine, I had an encounter with her.

“Excuse me; I heard that there is a village beyond this point. Is it possible to cross the river?”

A foreign object appeared in that tiny world of mine.

“Hello. Yes, I go there often. This is how much it costs and the payment is in advance.”

Her name would eventually roar throughout the business, but at this time, she was a ghostwriter girl who had barely started to travel the world.

“I do not mind. It will be my pleasure.”

“We usually put the names of the customers on an account book. May I have your name?”

That was how she and I met.

“It is Violet Evergarden.”

To be honest, she was the kind of person who could cause people’s time to stop in fascination for a brief moment. This ferry port was crowded in spring. There were many other people around, so of course, I could spot several beautiful men and women who showed up for sightseeing, but she was unlike any of them. No matter what background was behind her, she would only be a strange object in it. Be it rainy or sunny days, winter or spring days. Regardless of whatever the world was clad in, one would find their eyes going towards her. Beauty was not the only reason for it. Her scent was different from that of other living things.

——It’s similar to the feeling I got... when seeing a deer in the mountains for the first time.

Right, a wild beast. She was like a beautiful wild beast. If such a stunning beast appeared in front of anyone’s eyes all of a sudden, they would surely stare fixatedly at it. This one had blue eyes and its mane was golden.

“Please treat me well.”

“Ah, yes.”

Her voice was clear, her gestures elegant.

“Is there anything wrong with my appearance?”

“No, no; not at all. Nothing at all.”

She was full of mysteries that other people would not be allowed to touch so easily.

Her outfit might also be at fault. She was well-dressed in a way that one wouldn’t see around this area. A Prussian-blue jacket, a white ribbon-tie dress and cocoa-brown boots that could be deemed as brand-new. An emerald brooch shone radiantly over the ribbon tie. I had but one toy similar to her when I was a child. That young woman was literally just like a doll. On top of it, even the name I asked for matched her lovely looks, to the point I felt like humming without thinking.

“Ms. ‘Violet Evergarden’. All... right. Now, if you please.”

It was a good name. Like an actor’s. I had never watched a play or anything of the sort, though.

“Thank you very much for your patronage today. I am the safest operator around here. Boater Valentine.”

Once the name was written down and the fare was received, my work began.

The customers would be hesitant when getting on the boat regardless of whether they were men or women, but Violet differed from them. She got on it without a sound, quickly sat down and postured herself in waiting for me to start rowing.

Whatever thoughts she was engrossed in, she quietly closed her eyes after taking a glance at the scattering jacaranda flowers. It was a day of warm sunlight and pleasant wind, so she might have become sleepy. The comfortable silence continued for a while. I thought about leaving her alone, but perhaps because the petals that rode on the wind and flew about had tickled her cheeks, she opened her blue eyes. The scenery of earlier was not supposed to be any different, yet she looked left and right as if searching for someone.

“Miss, what is it you’re looking for?”

As I asked so, Violet moved her neck with a twitch like a small animal and looked my way. After a short moment, the answer came in a low voice with an “it is nothing”. She seemed a bit dispirited.

She looked like an uncommunicative person, so I did think she might not go along with a boater’s talk, but wanting a change in mood, I kept on speaking, “Miss, you are in luck. Now is the best time to view them. The jacarandas.”

“Is that so?”

She was kind of a weird girl. Her manner of speech was weak in emotion.

“For me, this is the time to make money. When this period passes, people stop coming to this remote region. This is my main occupation, but many people do boat rowing as a side-job too. When spring is over, they do farming. Miss... it does not seem that you are here for sightseeing. Is it for work?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a job related to boats?”

“No.”

“My, wrong guess. You don’t get scared of the swaying, so I thought you were used to it.”

“Is that how it looks?”

After we spoke that much, Violet finally stopped searching and moved her gaze towards me.

“You do. It feels like you have no fears.”

Silence drifted about. Rather than ignoring me, she seemed to be having difficulty choosing her words.

Until this mysterious beauty spoke up, I was smoothly cutting the surface of the water with the oar. Maybe due to her baggage being heavy, the propelling was slower than I had predicted. She was a slim young woman no matter how I looked at her, so her luggage was probably the one to blame for the rowing’s bad flow. Come to think of it, a low screeching sound ensued whenever she moved. She might have some sort of manufactured item on her.

“You are right. I have been with the navy before, so...”

Oops, the conversation was back.

“Is your family from the military?”

“No, just me. My military service record was ultimately the army. But before the army... the person that I served was a navy officer.”

The reply was covered in enigmas. Her profile was cold. The way she talked was perfectly fitting of a mysterious beauty.

I thought this strange client was a little scary, but let out my curiosity just a bit more. I had never gone outside of these lands, so I loved chatting with the customers.

“I can’t believe it. To think that someone like you used to be a soldier...”

She had no idea what the description “like you” represented. This impression showed through just slightly in her facial expression.

I rode with many people, so I sort of had my own theories about them. I felt like students from renowned schools would make this into a laughingstock if I were to call it a “philosophy”, but... people communicated the actual state of their emotions through the blinking of their eyes, the way they opened their mouths, the highs and lows of their voices and other such things.

They were extremely scarce in this girl, but I could perceive them. Seriously. I was an expert at “observing” others.

“Do you get troubled when people coax you or something like that?”

As I asked out of curiosity, Violet once again had a question mark over her face, but after a while, she blinked as if to say, “I have arrived to an answer for the inquiry” and gave me an unexpected reply. “In my travels, I am sometimes invited by people to become their bodyguard after saving them. I am an Auto-Memories Doll, so I decline them politely,” she said.

I was asking in a romantic sense, so that could not be considered an answer to my question.

What a strange doll. What an odd girl.

——My life would be wonderful if I were born with these looks.

On first meetings, one’s eyes would go to people’s physical appearance first and foremost. Everyone had a preferred type of face, right? I accidentally ended up comparing hers to mine.

Perhaps as I was always wearing a big straw hat so that my skin wouldn’t be damaged by sunburns, my hair was squashed. Even if I took off the hat, the platinum-blond color could get me mistaken for a grizzly old man. Other girls of the same age as me sparkled so much, and yet, just what was I? Being in the same space as them was embarrassing... No, let’s leave what the eyes could see aside. I should serve the customer; serve the customer.

“Beautiful here, isn’t it? These are jacaranda flowers.”

“‘Jacaranda’...”

“Ah, they sell fruits on that boat over there. Want to buy any?”

“No.”

“Do I talk too much? Ah, look! That bird is very rare. Can you tell it has the color of emeralds? It’s called ‘gemstone bird’. The feathers they drop are my treasures.”

“It is beautiful.”

“I think so too! I might get along well with you. What do you usually do to pass the time?”

During my and Violet’s short boat-riding trip, she told me the following:

She worked for a certain postal company from a military nation in the far south named Leidenschaftlich.

She was a newbie Auto-Memories Doll there.

Through her current commission, it was her first time coming to these lands.

Before arriving here, she drove two groups of bandits away.

She was told by her boss to bring him local specialties of this area as souvenir.

That was it. She had many stories about her boss.

“So the president and employees are close in your company, huh.”

“Is that so... No, you are right. Our company has just barely been built and there are few employees. If the number of unit members is small, the distance between them and the commander naturally grows shorter. Yes, to someone like me, whose origins are unknown, he is a compassionate person.”

“You don’t have to talk like that about yourself...”

“It is true. I am an orphan and do not know where I was born.”

I added “orphan” to the information about Violet that I had inside me. The things that had happened to this person dictated the air about her, I thought. Was that the reason why she seemed somewhat lonely?

“But now I have people who look after me.”

“Your boss.”

“Yes. And a kind elderly couple as well.”

“Aah, good for you. Being alone is sad. If you have someone to be with, that’s better. So you used to be in the military but you’re not a soldier anymore now that the war ended. You got yourself a new job and family, is what you’re saying.”

“Yes.”

“You’re sailing smoothly!”

“No.”

Even though I expressly tried to conclude it with good vibes, it was denied.

“I have many problems.” There was a slight creasing between Violet’s eyebrows. “I don’t yet know if I have the aptitude to be an Auto-Memories Doll... I was given a lady’s education and I have studied languages and other such things, but it is hard to say whether or not I can make effective use of that. I have retained the fighting power... but I am in a state where I do not know how to use it.” The tone of her voice faded a little at the end.

“How are you working like that now?” I asked purely out of concern. After all, she was an Auto-Memories Doll.

I came across all sorts of clients, but she was my first Auto-Memories Doll one. It was a job in which people used ghostwriting as their weapon and rushed around the world. I heard there were many women in that occupation, but I never thought a girl as old as me would be doing it. She could very well be writing for a princess from some other country while I was here, rowing a boat.

“Letters have standard sentences. In most cases, if we add the desired content to those standard sentences that we have memorized, they will take form.”

“Hm, hm, I see.”

“However, it cannot be said that letter you wished to write so much to the point of requesting an Auto-Memories Doll was achieved with this. If we cannot correspond to the expectations, we are failures as tools. Therefore, we are once entrusted with the request’s contents, suggest a few types of details, choose the best ones and accept additional demands, should there be any... then repeat. There are also times when my abilities are not enough...”

“You mean contents you can’t write?”

“Any sort of letter can be shaped to a certain extent as long as there is time. It is a combination, after all. However, I am not well-versed in the art of conversation that entertains people. I am told that I am ‘boring’ or ‘unfriendly’ and am often dismissed by the clients.”

She somewhat convinced me. I was terribly sorry for that. But it might indeed be difficult for someone to feel like composing a letter in a fun way with her. If they were hiring her for serious contents, that was a different story.

“Moreover, we normally have to understand the circumstances that our clients are in... Let’s see; it is similar to, for example, approaching someone who is injured. I am supposed to write such letters, but I do not yet understand what a good letter is. It is hard for me to say that I can manage it... In the end, I do not know if I have aptitude to be an Auto-Memories Doll. I am always asking myself whether or not it is all right for me to work in these conditions.”

Perhaps due to thinking a tad too hard, Violet said something incomprehensible – that “it would be much more efficient if our company’s president became an Auto-Memories Doll”. Wasn’t a president supposed to take care of the management?

But, surely... for Violet to be saying something like that about him, he had to be the kind of person who excelled at being considerate.

With the flow of the conversation, I tried asking what I was most interested in, “W-What do you do about love letters and the like?”

“Love letters?”

“Yes.”

It was a field of great concern for someone who had never had any sort of relation with it since birth.

“That is also a combination. You throw in verses from famous poems or songs... Classic romance novels are valuable reference materials as have quite a lot of rhetoric.”

As I received an answer much more direct than I had imagined, almost like boiled vegetables with no taste but their own, my shoulders dropped. I had expected her to reply that she used her own love experiences as reference, but Violet was an extremely serious bookworm. I was a bit ashamed of myself.

I then started the conversation over, “Must be hard that your first job is kind of all about stuff you’re not good at.”

As I said so, Violet dropped her gaze and spoke, “No, we have a bright female Auto-Memories Doll who is the complete opposite of me, so she is put in charge of cases like the ones I just mentioned. In contrast, a large number of transcription cases that are not letters but instead invoices and contract documents, or that require fast writing, come to me. Describing exactly what I see is my field of expertise.”

“I see; it’s a matter of having the right person in the right place. Your boss’s administration is good. So you’ve been managing it one way or another until now.”

“Yes. But this is my first business trip for ghostwriting.”

“F-First!” I accidentally let out a loud voice.

“Yes, my first.”

This girl was on her first ghostwriting business trip. I was sending her on a boat for that. It somewhat felt like I was involved with an awfully grandiose story, which made my heart race.

“Gets you nervous, doesn’t it?” I sought for agreement, but the one feeling nervous was me. “Will you be okay?”

But Violet did not seem to be okay.

“On ghostwriting business trips, the task is to finish it on the spot, and you must respond immediately. I cannot use the means that I have been using until now, such as taking time to write or securing time by cutting sleep and eating short.”

That may have been the reason for her aspect of weariness. Still, I was shocked. When we, boaters, did not want to take our boats out, we would refuse rides even if there were clients. It was a job where we had to have customers, but we decided the discretion on our own. I did not let the ones with a bad attitude on my boat ever again even if they asked. Above all, not eating was impossible. No one could row a boat if they were hungry or sleepy.

“You have to eat... Isn’t that the most important? And you have to sleep too!”

“The most important is accomplishing my missions.”

I could somewhat understand why this girl’s boss was so concerned about her. Since she was an ex-soldier, she was unable to get used to a peaceful life, and the job she had earned required a variety of emotions that did not fit her, so she was competing with knowledge and effort to make up for it. Talk about dangerous.

“But taking care of your health is also part of work.”

Violet cast down her golden eyelashes. What I said probably made her think.

“As I thought, I was better off as a soldier,” she whispered this bit by bit, out of the blue. As she caressed her emerald brooch, she fixed on it a stare that seemed to be burning.

“How come?”

“When I was in the military... all I had to do was chase after one person and protect him. I was always searching for an adult to follow.”

How was I supposed to describe this girl?

“I found myself the best master of all and used to live my life serving him.”

Rather than sincere, she was too candid. Almost like, yes, a child who knew nothing.

“It would have been great if it were like that forever.”

That was why, most likely...

“So he was someone important to you.”

...she honestly thought as much.

“More than anything.”

Her words probably held no lies.

“That’s good.”

She truly was currently apart from someone important to her and losing heart.

“But the war ended and everything changed. Things are different now. I have been separated from my master, and I must journey around the world all by myself with words and pens as my weapons.”

My country was a prosperous land that had not involved itself with the Continental War. Ever since I was born, I had never once enlisted. I had nothing to respond to her statements. That even though I had nosily asked so many questions – what a person I was.

“Erm... hum, can I say something?”

I wanted to cheer her up. But I had no idea how.

As I faltered, Violet shook her head. “I am sorry...”

She started apologizing for some reason, making me even more confused.

“I spoke too much. Forgive me for... tainting your ears.”

“Why? You didn’t do that at all.”

“I am told not to talk in too much detail about my history.”

“I-Isn’t it okay, though?”

“I must do as told.”

“But—”

“My deepest apologies. I said things that could disrupt you while you are in the middle of work.”

“B-But—”

“My deepest apologies.”

“Isn’t it okay?! You and I are just a customer and boater who can’t see each other anywhere but here!” again, I spoke loudly on accident.

I became a bit flustered. After all, she was apologizing. Even though she was just answering my insistent questions. Even though she was burdened with so much that she wound up unintentionally spilling it to a stranger like me.

“After you get out of this boat, we have no way of knowing what will happen to each other. So please never mind it.”

It was because I asked so persistently that the things she had been holding overflowed.

“It’s all good.”

There was something I could say exactly because I was a boater of a remote region.

“It’s all right,” I affirmed strongly, wanting to do something about those wavering eyes and her aspect of uncertainty. I might have been huffing fiercely too.

Violet looked at me with a gaze that looked like she had just woken up from a dream. And then she nodded with a meek face. “Yes.” Even though she had just nodded once, after a few tens of seconds later, she nodded again while saying, “Yes.”

After that, we eventually reached the shore without talking much.

From what I had heard, Violet’s patron was Mr. Lockhart, an elderly man famous for being rich even within his community. He was already quite old, so it was said that he did not have long.

“You go straight down the road. You should be able to see the village after a while, and Mr. Lockhart’s mansion is the one on highest ground. It has a white roof. The neighbor houses are all extravagant too, so don’t mistake it.”

“All right.”

“On the way back! If you also feel like going back together, look for me!”

“Yes, Mr. Valentine.”

   Perhaps because I had asked for it, Violet actually did look for and called out to me as her ride for the way back. Maybe as I had listened to her life story, it kind of did not feel like we were strangers anymore.

After I intimidated and dispersed the other boatmen trying to take her as their customer, I asked, “How was the job? Did it go well?”

“I do not know.”

Silence.

“At first, he yelled at me, then crumpled the letters I wrote into balls one after another and tossed them away.”

“That’s horrible.”

“But once I presented improvement suggestions twenty-three times, he said he had ‘been defeated by my persistence’ and accepted the ghostwriting.”

“Ms. Violet, you actually have a strong competitive spirit, don’t you?”

Later on, according to what I had heard from people of his neighborhood, Mr. Lockhart was a mean geezer who, apparently high-strung from fighting against a disease, would hire people in order to bully them into quitting. My goodness. He was the type of person whom I would not want to associate myself with even once, so I guessed the fact that Violet would not have to deal with him anymore after just this one time was a blessing in disguise.

However, a few months thereafter...

   “I will be ghostwriting a letter to Mr. Lockhart’s grandchild for a few months.”

...she showed up again holding a travel bag in one hand and reunited with me. Our interactions continued from that point onward.

I did not know what to name my involvement with Violet. We were not friends. We only ever met due to occupational matters and I never saw Violet other than when she came over for work.

“How did things go after that? Is business going well? We’re in the off season now, so I’m pretty free.”

“It seems that people of the postal industry are seeking not to take work away from those of the same line of business. We, Auto-Memories Dolls, usually receive work from the area surrounding our companies, but the number of business trips is increasing. However, it is hard to say if we are on track. Our president looks over his account book every day.”

As we were both from the hospitality businesses, we had worries in common. So I was also happy.

“My wallet gets really empty in the off season too. Well, I can live just fine with the amount I save up in spring... but I have to find a different job when I want something pricey.”

“A different job. Mr. Valentine, for how many years have you been a boater?”

I reminded myself of my ordinary life’s number of years and work history inside my head.

“Erm, I’ve been rowing for two years. But before that, I was something like a handyman, working in an orchard, taking care of other people’s babies, doing cleaning and washing, running errands and being an apprentice at a restaurant’s kitchen.”

“That is a wide variety.”

“My family’s poor. Dad and Mom are gambling addicts too... We’re so poor that we can’t survive without all of us working. I was eight when they told me I had to get a job because our finances weren’t going well.”

“That is commendable for someone so young.”

“No, Ms. Violet, you’re probably as old as me, right? Eh, how old are you?”

   Perhaps she and I really did have a karmic connection, as I was always working whenever she came to these lands.

“Ms. Violet! If it isn’t Ms. Violet...!”

“Mr. Valentine. I was looking for you.”

“M-Me?”

“Yes. You told me to ask for you the first time we rode. I did this last time as well. Will you take out your boat today?”

“Of course! C-Can I ask again? You were looking for me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so happy! Same for me! I wonder every day if you’re coming anytime soon... Now, now, customer! Please get onto the boat! Go ahead, go ahead. I have tons of things I want to tell you! I see~! So you were looking for me~!”

“Yes, I was.”

   The air about her was like that of a tensely stretched thread, yet as time went by, she became able to show different facial expressions.

“You can’t smile?”

“No. I cannot say I have complaints about it, but... I receive such opinions from the clients quite frequently. For now, I am making physical attempts on it. Mr. Lockhart often lifts my cheeks. He tells me to practice. Yet... it does not work very well.”

“That old man is teaching you weird stuff... It’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone pick their cheeks up to form a smile.”

“Mr. Valentine... you excel at smiling. Do you have any trick for it?”

“Eh~, I’m just being carefree.”

“That is difficult for me.”

“Hm~, but that’s a secret of success.”

“‘Secret of success’...”

“This place is a dock, after all. For a kid like me to be working among men, I at least have to be good at acting friendly, or else I can’t survive.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. That’s why this is something I’ve ingrained in me. Ms. Violet, you’re an ex-soldier, aren’t you? You couldn’t be carefree in the battlefield, so there is no helping that, right?”

“But... that has nothing to do with my clients.”

“Hm~, trying to be better is never too much, but from my standpoint as someone who is also in the hospitality business, I don’t think that is completely indispensable. We give the clients what they seek and they pay the fee. It is essentially this kind of equal relationship. You do not have to abase yourself more than necessary. Customers naturally come to people that do a fine job even if they are unsociable.”

“Is that so...?”

“It is. Someone who instead is friendly but can’t do the job at all is a problem. The fact that you became Mr. Lockhart’s purveyor means you write good letters. It seems he is very particular about his own matters. Y’know, you’re fit for people like that.”

“If so, that is good.”

“Don’t make that face. Shall I lift your cheeks?”

   The things we had to talk about with each other whenever we met increased exactly because we were far apart from one another.

“Speaking of which, you are looking for someone, right? Did you find any clues?”

Our respective circumstances slipped in and out of sight.

“No...”

“But Auto-Memories Dolls have to go to all sorts of places, so there is still hope.”

“Yes. I also think that is the good point of being an Auto-Memories Doll.”

“That so...? Ms. Violet, did you choose to be an Auto-Memories Doll to search for someone?”

“No, perhaps I should say it is wishful thinking. I do not truly believe that I can find him. However...”

By that time, I had realized what the brooch was.

“...I can keep on living while thinking ‘what if’. That is the kind of job it is.”

That it was something related to the important person she had mentioned.

“Is that so...?” while speaking with a laidback voice, I incidentally thought about what that would be in my case.

What was I attached to enough that I would be this obsessed over it?

“You’re the opposite of me. I’m waiting for my family here.”

——If I do have any of that, it’d be the boat my dad used to ride.

“Do you live far away from each other?”

——The house that we all lived in together.

“Huuum... How should I put it? I was sent out to a different town for domestic service when I was eight... and I was completely convinced that my parents and older brother were living here.”

None of what I was attached to was things that could remain in my grasp. It was this land itself.

“When I came back, there was only our house. My family wasn’t in it.”

It was not something I could walk around with.

“They might’ve moved somewhere else... because they hated life here.”

Violet did not frown or make a puzzled face. She just quietly lent me an ear.

“I ran away from the place where I was doing domestic service, so I guess I missed their notice. I think they are troubled now. That they are looking for me. I also want them to come pick me up, but they never do...”

I myself understood. I knew I was saying odd stuff. Weird, wasn’t it? I was aware. If she called me crazy, it would be just the expected.

“Mr. Valentine, should you not be looking for them?”

That question gouged out just a little bit of the weakest part of my heart. Yes, just a little. It pierced me exactly because the person who asked it had stood up from her suffering and was running onward.

“If I leave this place, it’d be a problem...”

But Violet did not say I was wrong at all.

“It be a problem if, by any chance, my brother – no, either Dad or Mom decided to come back...”

She merely whispered a single sentence: “understood”.

   Before I realized, I had started looking for her at the dock.

——Is she coming today? Not yet? She might come tomorrow.

   “It’s been a while...! Has anything changed? We got to meet again because Mr. Lockhart is still alive, huh.”

“It has. Just that the personnel at my workplace increased again. Mr. Lockhart’s voice is so lively when he is angry that one would not imagine he has a disease. Mr. Valentine, what about you...?”

“Y’see, I’ve been going to study lately! I was influenced by you. I can read easy words, but I never went to school, so I’m bad at writing.”

“I could not write either. However, it should be all right as long as you practice.”

“I don’t have enough paper to practice writing, so I’ve been writing on the ground with a stick these days.”

“If you wish, please use these.”

“Eh, what are those? T-They look expensive. I can’t.”

“I also received paper and pens from someone just like this and began my studies. You can.”

“N-No can do! I can’t get something like that from my customer...!”

“You can.”

   As the seasons passed, as the days and months went by, her aspect of anxiousness from when we first met diminished. She steadily built up a record of accomplishments as an Auto-Memories Doll.

“That umbrella is cute. It looks good with your clothes.”

“It is a gift. I also... find it adorable.”

“Is that a passionate request for a relationship from your client?”

“No, that is not it. This is a display of gratitude for my work from Mr. Oscar, the novelist...”

Much faster than I had imagined, yet surely, she was elegantly climbing up that brilliant stairway.

“Heeh, a novelist. I don’t know much about him, but that’s amazing. You might be working at some royal palace one of these days!”

“I have.”

“Eh?”

“I have. I wrote love letters on behalf of a princess from a country named Drossel.”

   She became someone well-known around the neighborhood in no time.

How should I describe her vigor? Was “forceful enough to knock down birds in flight” too weird? She was an irresistible force that people were drawn to en masse. Somehow or other, she made a great leap in a blink of life.

Her popularity attracted more popularity, and it was amazing that her work had developed so much. There were such people at the dock too, but this could not be achieved without effort. But it did not look like there were ambitions or dreams to Violet’s efforts. Dream chasers had different eyes than ordinary people. She... her blue eyes were as quiet as a midwinter sea no matter in what season I peeked into them.

Her gaze made it seem like she was looking at me from a different world. As if she were staring up at everything from the bottom of the ocean. Yes, it was that kind of look.

She was there, yet was not. Her blue eyes were mirrors that made me feel like I was looking at myself before realizing it, when I was supposed to be looking at her. She herself was also this sort of person, with an attitude as if her mind was elsewhere.

Her fame... if I were to use a metaphor, she was a broken doll who got praised as a result of single-mindedly working on repeat. That was how it seemed in my eyes. Awful way of saying it, huh? But the Violet Evergarden I had first met had been hurt. She was just a hurt girl.

So I was honestly surprised. Because, at first, she didn’t look at all like a girl who would rush up into Auto-Memories Doll stardom from that point. Yes, she did not.

That might be due to the way we met. If I had met the current Violet instead, I would surely have thought, “Such a full-fledged Auto-Memories Doll”. But although she was indeed an eccentric girl, she did not look like that to me. To me... To me, she looked like nothing but a girl from the same generation as myself, stagnated in a world that she was tossed into. An uneasy girl, who had just started working. The type that definitely could be found anywhere all around the world.

One that was also similar to me. From that day, at that time.

“Dad, Mom, Big Bro, where are you?”

She was like me back when I was at a loss as I decided to live by myself.

With the passing years, Violet Evergarden had bloomed to the world into a marvelous lady before I even knew. Just as her name suggested, she was a girl who had blossomed beautifully.

No matter what, I ended up comparing her with myself... Even though we were reuniting after a long while, even though I was happy, I felt too sad for some reason and wound up saying lots of lame things.

“Ms. Violet... you kind of became an unreachable person all of a sudden, huh.”

It was because, even though I had supposedly lived just like her in the same four seasons and the same time that she had rushed through, I was still an insignificant boater.

“My company is still based in Leidenschaftlich, just as before.”

“No, I wasn’t talking in terms of physical distance. It’s... a spiritual thing.”

Silence.

“You really are admirable. You know, when I think that you’re doing such an amazing job while I’m here, boating without a care in the world... it’s like...”

“Mr. Valentine, you are also working every day.”

“It’s not like boating is a bad job or anything.”

I also didn’t think there was high or low when it came to occupations. Yet I would end up comparing them.

“I quite enjoy it. Rowing the boat, that is. But somehow... like... when I look at you, Ms. Violet... I think of myself. I wonder if I’m okay like this. Because surely, there should be something else I want to do.”

Silence.

“If only I could change myself too...”

“Mr. Valentine.”

“Yes?”

“I felt that we have become closer than back when we first met.”

“Eh?”

I was in shock. Because I thought she wasn’t the kind of person to say something like that.

What did people call this?

“It became a habit for me to look for you immediately around here.”

Those words that were almost as if someone was nestling close to you.

“As you have let me on countless times, you have been recorded within me.”

No, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t that she didn’t say those things – she couldn’t say them. After all, Violet had told me when we first met. That she couldn’t write letters that felt like approaching someone who was injured.

“I see.”

She had been worried that she should leave it to someone else; that she wasn’t qualified.

“Have we become far apart?”

Yet she had become able to do it. By practicing a lot. Involving herself with people.

“Mr. Valentine, you always find me as well. Whenever I arrive here, instantly.”

This girl had become able to do what she was worst at.

“Yep.”

But even now, it didn’t change that she would touch her emerald brooch when she was uncertain.

“Have we...”

“We haven’t...! Sorry. I’m sure I could spot you even if we passed each other in a different city... Sorry, it’s just... wrong. I was wrong...”

Violet had grown up.

“Sorry...”

That day, when we first met, she had been fretting about being able to write letters that could draw close to someone. Having nurtured her heart through many people and a lot of time, she was now even able to say these kinds of things. This girl was properly fighting against the fate that she had been granted.

Aah, I wanted to be like Violet Evergarden.

I wanted to be like this girl. I really did.

I was still young. I could start over anywhere else. But I did not do that. I couldn’t throw away my family. I couldn’t. Ever thought about throwing your family away?

I... I had never.

Because it was family. People I shared my blood with. We were supposed to be together, right? Parents protecting their children and children yearning for their parents – that was the norm, wasn’t it? When I looked around me, that was what people were doing. Was it all lies?

Why, why didn’t my family manage to be normal? Why was normal so difficult for me? Because I was stupid?

I had gone to a stranger’s place when I was eight years old because my parents had told me to. I went with them as my parents said, “Go with this person to help them out; you’ll get payment for it”. I had the feeling that my parents had been smiling. My brother was the only one who had a serious look – no, he was making a face like he was about to cry as he pulled the sleeve of my clothes over and over. He used to be such a scary brother who was quick to hit me on the head and scold me, but only at that time did he exhaust himself from crying.

“You can’t, okay? Listen to what your Big Bro says. You can’t go to that place,” he had told me.

I remember being extremely perplexed. I only had the impression that my brother was always angry and hungry. He never behaved like he cherished me or anything of the sort. Honestly, I used to hate him.

“But they’ll be angry if I don’t do as they say.”

So I had shaken off the hands that were grasping my sleeve. The expression my brother had back then – those eyes looked like everything in front of him had transformed into rubble.

My brother had said one last time with a tearful voice, “Hey, you can’t; please... don’t go. I won’t hit you anymore, ‘kay? ‘Kay?”

Even so, I had not agreed. Because I was afraid that my parents would get mad.

I hadn’t seen my brother since. Thinking back on it now, he might have actually had affection for me.

As for my parents, had that been something they couldn’t avoid? I still didn’t know. But to put it bluntly, they had sold me.

It was not something so unusual. This area was remote, rural and still rooted in such customs. That might still be my case even now. I was living in a land I had once left, disguised so that no one would know it was me. It would be terrible if I were sold by someone again. So I had made myself up. An unknown boy who had showed up out of nowhere. An outsider who had arrived before anyone knew it. That was me.

I was a huge moron who couldn’t throw away her family even though they had thrown me away.

I ran away from the place I had been sold to after not even three days and, starting out as a beggar, I had saved up a sum in order to go back home. I did anything, from working at an orchard to taking care of other people’s babies, doing cleaning and washing, running errands and being an apprentice at a restaurant’s kitchen. Anything, as long as I could earn money.

I had been sold off to a pretty far-away place, so it took me a year to come back. I was making merry when returned home. About things being back to how they were before. About how my life had twisted a bit but it was back to how it used to be. My mother would surely be happy. She’d tell me I did a good job coming back home.

So, that was why... I even now vividly remembered the feeling of astonishment I had when I opened the door and the house was deserted.

“Dad, Mom, Big Bro,” I had whispered intermittently into the empty house.

There was no reply.

——Aah, so homes that people no longer live in also die, I thought.

I was the child from that day even now, standing stock-still.

   “The hijacking case of the transcontinental train... The one on this picture looks like that girl, but she isn’t, right?”

While reading the newspaper that the customers had left behind as usual, I was relaxing at the dock.

The seasons had passed once again and autumn was about to end. Although the years were growing farther from the spring in which I had first met Violet, yet not a single thing had changed.

“Excuse me, are you doing boat rides?”

“Ah, yes. Thank you very much for your patronage today. I am the safest operator around here. Boater Valentine.”

Today, too, I was rowing a boat. That was all.

I would just wake up in the morning, eat, get the boat out, let the customers onto it, do my job, go back home and sleep. A repetition of that. Without anything special happening, without any wonderful encounters or opportunities, I was merely earning enough to eat and protecting my home. Sometimes, I would find myself thinking that I was the only one living this kind of daily life. I had been working since I was little, so I didn’t know how to play very well, and I had no one who was close to me other than Violet.

Even though Violet wasn’t my friend.

“Mr. Boater. Is there anywhere around here where I can have a meal?”

“There is, once you get on land. It might be unlike anything that someone from the big city such as yourself would eat, though... Now, then, be careful.”

Right. Just as she had once said, our relationship was of a boater and her customer, and we would not meet unless she came here for ghostwriting. She was an amazing person who roamed all around the globe and lived in a world completely different from mine.

While returning to the former shore after sending off the customer, I was thinking to myself. Was my life okay like this? I was here today yet again, without attempting to go to where the person that I wanted to be close to was. Even if I used the entirety of the notebook that Violet had given me, I could not report this to her. Because I couldn’t leave my hometown.

   “Mr. Valentine. Hello; it has been a while.”

It was a very beautiful morning that day. Illuminated by the Sun as it emerged from the clouds, drops of the rain that had fallen on the previous night were emitting a transparent shine. The person who had appeared in that stunning world was still a foreign body.

Fall just before winter approached. Violet Evergarden was not wearing her usual doll outfit, instead dressed in black. Black hat, black cape over a black dress, and while the suitcase, umbrella and emerald brooch were the same as ever, everything was pitch-black other than them. She was a black-clad Auto-Memories Doll.

As the wind blew, her clothes seemed to flutter in an unnatural manner on her left arm. The arm was gone. Only one of her arms was missing. She had told me somewhere along the way that they were prosthetics, but when seeing her figure without one of them like this, I felt the loss of it even though it was unrelated to me.

“He-llo... Uh, what’s up with... hum, your arm, your clothes and all that?”

It was almost like that kind of thing.

“You came just a while ago, right? The intervals are really close...”

Almost like someone’s funeral. I had never been to one, but I had observed it from the outside before.

Apparently, my questions had her at loss for a bit. After showing a thinkative countenance as from where to start explaining, Violet put her baggage on the ground and pointed at her left arm with her right hand.

“My arm broke. It is being repaired.”

Her artificial doll-like gestures that I had grown fond of before I realized and her clear voice were now turning into the main causes that made my heart restless.

“I can use the right one without any issues. It is inconvenient, but this will be solved eventually.”

I asked the reason behind it and if she had been involved in some sort of accident. Violet did not tell me the details of her situation. She gave a rare, faint smile, looking troubled.

“In the meantime we had not seen each other, truly, many things happened... However, today is not about me but about someone else. I was told he was famous around here, but have you not heard? He has passed away.”

There was only one person whose funeral Violet would be coming to this land for, dressed in mourning clothes. Her ghostwriting patron, Mr. Lockhart. That old man who people said was going to die, yet had always stayed alive.

“I... I don’t have much interaction with the townspeople... We’ve had heavy rain the past few days... and when I pushed myself to get the boat out, I caught a cold... so I shut myself at home... and didn’t see any of my boatmen friends...”

I came up with reasons one after another as if to give an excuse. Even though I hadn’t done anything bad.

“It seems the funeral is already over. The people from that household contacted me, so I came in a hurry.”

“To visit his... grave?”

“That as well, but I also ghostwrote his will on his own request... and it seems there was a dispute among his relatives when the will was opened. They said they want me to confirm if there was really no mistake in the contents...”

I wondered what in the will had aroused the general criticism. Violet did not tell me, as she could not reveal the contents of her contractor’s letters, but when it came to problems that happened after a wealthy elder died, it had to be the inheritance.

“It simply means that the will is just like Mr. Lockhart. This is all I can say.”

So the mean geezer was mean until the end and then left.

“S-So, Ms. Violet, you’re about to get yourself involved in that big quarrel?”

“Yes.”

“Could it be it’s your last ride on this boat...?”

“Mr. Valentine, if you are still here by then, I shall go back with you as well.”

“I-I’ll be. I won’t take any other customers today and I’ll be waiting for you on the other side of the river!”

“I think I will take very long.”

“That’s okay... I mean—!”

——I won’t get to see you anymore, right?

There was a knot in my throat because of the sadness, so I could not say these words. But I believed they had reached Violet. She said “all right” after a pause.

And so, I sent Violet to the household’s side of the shore. As I had declared, I did not take on other customers, only waited for Violet.

She did say that a lot had happened to her, but if the essence of what she had experienced, which she could only express with that much, was enough for her to lose an arm, then surely there should still be a commotion around her right now. Poor Violet. Honestly, Mr. Lockhart was a client who gave Violet trouble from start to finish.

Still, if it weren’t for that troublesome client, Violet and I wouldn’t have met. We also wouldn’t have had that accumulation of interaction time as the seasons passed.

“You should’ve lived longer,” I whispered selfishly. My pathetic voice was mixed with whining.

I was a horrible person.

To think I would complain about the time that someone I didn’t even know so well should die. But now, my heart felt like it would break. My composure was gone. That was why my tongue was so nasty.

I did predict that we would become unable to see each other one day like this. I did, yet I had thought it would be a gentler end. More different, more...

Yes, one day. One day, just as I had suddenly become unable to see my parents and brother, Violet would stop coming here. But I couldn’t leave this place, so I would keep standing at the dock, thinking that there might be a day where she would come by.

From the viewpoint of other people, they may think this was sad, but to me, it was an ending that still had salvation and hope to it...

I hadn’t imagined that she herself would tell me this was probably the last time. Besides, to think that my chest would feel so tight just because I was no longer going to see a customer that I only saw every now and then.

I was an idiot.

Yes, I wasn’t good in the head. I was sensitive to the subtleties of other people’s emotions despite not bringing them to life in me. Yet I was insensitive when it came to myself, so I was only able to notice things when they started hurting like this.

“I-I...”

Surely, I was all on my own because I was this much of a fool.

“I’m gonna be alone...” the words overflowed from be in a natural manner.

——Be quiet. Don’t cry. It’s like the way you’d cry as a kid.

“Ugh... fu-uh...”

I was happy. That Violet had hired me and would come to ride on my boat.

“I don’t want that... Again... I’ll be...”

I was waiting here. For someone to remember me and come see me. For them to look for me. I was living by expecting nothing but that.

Same for Violet. She was someone from my generation, who had been tossed into the world all of a sudden. She wanted to search for her important person, for him to find her – she was that kind of girl. But she was doing her best to live. She really did her best, without losing to the unreasonableness of life.

As she grew, I saw her shining as an Auto-Memories Doll almost as if it were happening to a different version of myself. The fact she was doing her best was an encouragement. I thought of her as a comrade. Even though we weren’t friends, it felt like we were.

“Big Bro... when are you coming back...”

I was by myself here. So, before I noticed, my encounter with that girl had become salvation in my life. Because we were the same. Because we were both waiting for people who wouldn’t return.

It was okay even if it were just a few times per year. She had remembered and looked for me. To me, just that fact was, aah, so very...

   “I am terribly sorry for being so late.”

I had departed with the boat in the morning, and it was past evening when the black-clad Auto-Memories Doll came back. She did not seem tired, but her voice was on the husky side, so she probably had to talk a lot.

“Good job... How did it go?”

I wanted to make it so that she wouldn’t find out that I had been crying, yet my voice was nasal and clearly an after-cry one. Amidst the sunset, Violet looked straight at me.

“Everything is well. Mr. Valentine, are you all right?”

I did not know, so I fell silent.

——I’ll let you on the boat now. And then, it’ll be the end. You won’t come see me anymore. I don’t know if that’s okay, or if I’m okay with it.

“Give me your hand; come on carefully. This is the time when the sunset and the evening are mixed, after all.”

As if to gloss over it, I conducted myself as merely a professional. Violet’s sense of balance was a bit off, perhaps because she only had her right arm. I helped her until she was seated, and then started rowing.

“It is my first time seeing the landscape at this hour.”

I nodded at Violet’s muttering.

Evening at the Jacaranda River was a sight that looked like a scarlet Sun had jumped onto the water surface. Both the sky and the river would paint themselves red, dyed in darkness before one could take notice. The birds cried as if to announce that it was already time to go home, the boatmen pulling out of work and returning to their houses. It was that kind of hour, that kind of scene.

As winter was about to come around, the trees were bare and most of the fallen leaves over the water had even their colors rusting away as well. There was nothing more fitting of a farewell day than such loneliness.

“Mr. Valentine, thank you very much for being here for me until today.”

Violet’s voice sounded softer than usual. Come to think of it, I felt that the air around her had somewhat changed. I had thought it was because of the mourning attire, but looking at her again like this now, I figured that was not it. Would it be an exaggeration to say that it was as if an evil spirit had been removed from her? She was different from before.

“From the start, for now, for always... thank you very much.”

Yes, back then, when we first met, Violet Evergarden was a beautiful wild beast that had been tossed into the world. She was nervous, wary of everything, unstable and acted kind of cold.

“It might be strange of me to be saying this to someone I only ever see here. But to me, Mr. Valentine, the fact that you let me ride on your boat whenever I come by...”

Yet, within a long time, she had gained warmth and transformed from a beast-like girl into an exquisite young woman.

“I... surely, yes, was ‘happy’ about it. I can now finally say so. Even if it is something trivial for you. I... can only meet you here, so when you said that I could talk to you, I was ‘happy’.”

——It’s over.

The scenery was too solitary. My chest tightened at the words she spoke within it.

“I was definitely not suited to be an Auto-Memories Doll. I did not have the gentleness to speak my mind without thinking as you do. However, you affirmed that someone like me had her good points.”

——It’s really over.

“In a world full of denial, it is difficult to affirm anything.”

——This is the end.

“That is what I think. There is much denial in this world. Affirming is difficult. But you did it for me.”

——Please, don’t say any more of these goodbye-like words.

“Thank you very much.”

——Don’t.

“I have one more thing I want to tell you.”

——I don’t want to hear them anymore.

“Mr. Valentine, I found the person I was looking for.”

——Stop.

“I found him. I discovered that there are many people in the world who are looking for someone they can no longer see.”

——My time with you is going on as you speak.

“I was told by many that it was foolish of me to wait for him.”

——My time with you is melting away.

“However, I followed my heart, which I did not even know I had.”

——It’s melting away like the foam on the surface of the water.

“Mr. Valentine, I support you always waiting here for someone from here onwards as well. Even if, by any chance, you decide to stop waiting and venture out of here, I will support this too.”

——I liked this purity of yours, as if you’re reflecting the other person.

“I assert your kindness. Because you asserted mine.”

——By sustaining you, I was able to sustain myself.

I let out a scream. Yes, I was bawling. For me to be crying while rowing, I was disqualified as a boater. But Violet did not judge me.

After wiping my tears with the sleeves of my clothes several times, I began rowing again. I had only ever done anything while crying when I was a child.

“Dad, Mom, Big Bro.”

The time when I went searching, calling each of them, in my hometown by the Jacaranda River felt like it had been just a few days ago.

“Violet, don’t forget me,” I said as I cried, looking like an idiot.

“Yes. Mr. Valentine, you said this would be the last time, but I will pay a visit if I receive any jobs to do nearby.”

“That’s a lie...! Countless of my customers have said that... but nobody... nobody... nobody cares about...”

“I support you. This is no lie.”

“It is... It’s just flattery... I-I was... happy that you never forgot about me... but you soon will...”

The boat arrived at the dock almost as if colliding with it. The impact caused the tears to fall from my eyes like rain.

“Sorry; just go.”

I crouched on top of the boat. Aah, I had to help Violet get down. Night was coming. I should not be stalling in a place like this.

I was just a boater and this girl was just my customer. We would end here. It was over.

“I learned that having someone to accept you is important.”

I had to wipe my tears and see her off.

“Even if you cannot see them all the time. Mr. Valentine, if I was a bother to you, please know this.”

I felt the sensation of the only arm that Violet now had touching my back. I turned away from it.

We had met each other in this severe world. A world that I hated. I also hated my life.

But, aah, my God. Even when such cruel sorrow attacked me like that...

“There is an Auto-Memories Doll somewhere in the world who accepts you. Please be aware of this.”

——...the world is beautiful.

As she added a “that is not a lie”, I felt like I would end up waiting for her who knows how many years with just that sentence, so I found myself smiling. My foolishness and Violet’s kindness – those two things made me both cry and laugh.

At the end, we joined hands like little kids. I helped her out of the boat and did not let go after that.

   “So it’s not a lie? You won’t forget me?”

“It is not. I will not. I have good memory.”

“Some-Someday...”

“Yes.”

“If I become someone capable of going to see you someday, will you accept me? Wouldn’t I be a bother? I... Y-Y’know, I... actually wanted to be friends with you. Not just a boater and her customer...”

“Yes, I will.”

“But I can’t right away. I have a family... I don’t, but I do.”

“Yes.”

“But, one day... one day...”

“Yes, one day.”

“Surely, on a really nice day for us to reunite...”

“Yes, it will definitely be a good day.”

“Let’s meet again one day, Violet Evergarden.”

   After that, just as Violet had somehow changed, so did I. Just as snow covered the autumn lands, the silver make-up melted down before anyone realized and young leaves sprouted from it, I also changed.

It was during spring that this was decisive. As expected, for one to start something, it had to be in spring.

Purple flower petals scattered down on the Jacaranda River. I was simply looking at the scenery in a daze. The harbor was crowded with customers. Even though I was a boater and there were several customers wanting a ride, I was using the boat only for myself, not letting anyone hop in. Without paying any attention to my fellow boatmen, who stared at me with strange looks, I merely observed the entirety of this landscape, so as to sear it into my eyes.

My beautiful hometown. A hometown of which I only had memories sad enough to pierce through my chest. A hometown where no one would look for me anymore. A hometown that surely none of them would ever come back to.

The fact that Violet would not come this year gave me a sensation akin to waking up from a dream. As if my hazy head was clearing up, such change came to me.

——Let’s throw it away.

It was then that I thought at last.

——I’ll throw my family away.

That was what I thought.

The reason why I was clinging to this place was that my family might come back someday. I had to return, I had to stay here, or else I was sure they would be troubled if any of them came home. Because it had troubled me. It had made me cry. So I should be here, I thought.

Even though they didn’t give me love, I loved my family.

——But I’ll throw it away.

I was finally able to think like that. As I did so, tears poured down.

I had taken a long time to arrive to this decision, which was a merciless one, and I was a horrible person who surely wouldn’t die a peaceful death and would, as expected, keep on living like this, without being loved by anybody.

But I was going to do it. I was going to throw my family away.

After all, even if the people who were supposed to love me did not, she existed in my world. Somewhere in this world, there was an Auto-Memories Doll who accepted me. So instead of waiting for someone who would never come home, I should take a leap. Because I wasn’t an eight-year-old kid anymore and could go anywhere.

I rowed my boat. Not for anyone else. For the sake of going out into my new journey.

What should I do? When I thought about what to do first, as expected, that girl surfaced in the depths of my mind. The girl I had seen off while praying, “Wait for me”.

The dark red ribbons tying her golden hair. The pleats on her white ribbon-tie dress. The light blue umbrella. As if playing around, all of these things fluttered in the wind.

It was okay for me to go looking for them from now. It was okay.

——Wait for me.

My chest was quivering. Starting life anew was common place, but now that it was my turn, I was shaking. It was hard to breathe from the fear and expectations. Flowers from jacaranda trees were blocking my field of vision, and although their beauty erased everything that could be seen, they were nothing but a hindrance now. What I yearned for wasn’t them.

What I wished to see – the purple I wanted to meet once again – was no longer this one.

——Please, wait for me.

Tears welled up. I didn’t know whether they were tears of sadness, relief or frustration. I didn’t know anything anymore. The feeling I had wasted so much of my life and the feeling that I had finally gotten to this point were in conflict.

I didn’t want to abandon my family. I didn’t.

But the truth is that I’d always wanted to. Aah, I was such an idiot, such a confusing one.

That was fine. I didn’t understand myself very well either. I didn’t. I didn’t understand anything anymore. What was I doing? I didn’t know. Surely, I had never known. I didn’t even know that I was hurting.

But there was just one thing.

——Wait.

One thing I knew. When it came to things I knew, there was but one.

That I felt so refreshed I shouted to the world without minding anyone, “Violet, wait for me!”

I was going to see her, so I wished she wouldn’t forget me. That was it.

That was all.

   Blue eyes opened.

The train had arrived in the city. While the passengers got off in a hurry, a blue-eyed girl was neatly smoothing down the wrinkles on her ribbon-tie dress before gracefully descending to the platform.

She did not act as if looking for someone or show any signs of losing her way. Her figure as she simply walked straight to her destination was almost like that of a mechanical doll. Surely, she would not do things such as be surprised by something or run towards someone upon finding them. That was how she looked.

The perfectly lady-like girl, however, went completely still in the middle of the crowded platform all of a sudden. Her blue eyes had detected something. Upon finding that person, she blinked as if surprised, and then bolted into a run. The hem of her skirt spread out in disarray. The ribbons keeping her golden hair in place swayed.

As she had started running, the other person also pushed through the crowd and came closer. Three, five, ten steps. She, who had broken into a dash, halted exactly in front of him, yet the other did not.

“Violet, welcome home.”

He held her in his arms and buried his face into her shoulder. Her beloved one, whom she had not seen in a while, tickled her with his nose as he sniffed the scent of her hair. He must have been at the platform for a long time. His cold clothes and his body heat conveyed his desire to see her.

“Major, I am back. I did not know you would come pick me up.”

Having changed from a beast into a person, from a person into a girl and then into someone’s biggest love, Violet accepted the embrace of the other person without resistance.

“I am happy.”

Something gradually rushed through her body. It was the sensation that “joy”, “love” and other such feelings had turned into light and were running from the tips of her toenails to the top of her head.

The young woman who used not to know emotions was now in love.

One could spot other charming lovers here and there. Therefore, even as the Army Colonel of this country, Leidenschaftlich, and an Auto-Memories Doll were hugging each other, no one paid them any mind. The intimate figures of both those two and the other lovers were a common sight. If one were to unravel their history, this was a strange pair born through twists and turns, but in everyday life, it was just a part of the scenery.

“Violet. Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you say anything?”

Due to Gilbert hugging her tightly, Violet’s remark was processed simply as an incomprehensible something, but she did not care.

“No, it was nothing much. I have returned, Major.”

“Sorry. Yeah, welcome back, Violet... Did I tell you I wanted to see you?”

“Yes, just now.”

“I heard from Hodgins about when you were scheduled to come back... Tired, are you? I have a carriage waiting so that we can hurry home.”

“Major, what about work...?”

“I came after finishing it. I had to force myself but I have no plans more important than you.”

“Then, can we be together for a little bit as the carriage rides?”

“If you’re okay with it, I can send you to the Evergarden house after we have a meal.”

Gilbert took Violet’s eyes going round as a sign of acceptance. He took Violet’s bag in her stead and, in a natural manner, found himself grasping the hand that had become empty. As he held her hand, Violet moved her gaze fleetingly. She started blinking again upon looking at the two joined hands.

“Major, Major.”

Subsequent to their reunion during the hijacking case of the transcontinental train, the two had confirmed their feelings after the CH Postal Company attack incident and started a new, albeit awkward, relationship.

“What is it?”

“I almost look like a child.”

She indeed was like a child in love.

“Because we’re holding hands?”

“Yes; I would never get lost here, in Leidenschaftlich. You did use to hold my hand before, but... now...”

It was a bit lacking for an army colonel who was past his thirties, but if one were to say that it was fitting of modest people such as these two, it indeed was.

“I’d like you to keep in mind that lovers also hold hands, Violet.”

“Is that so...? Indeed, looking around, there are many people doing this.”

“You had told me you understood... so I perceived us as lovers; was I wrong?”

“N-Not at all.”

“Then, in order to strengthen that perception... let’s change the way we’re holding hands.”

Just by the hold changing into one in which their fingers intertwined, Violet went from just a girl being taken away to a lady being escorted. Violet blinked again. Ever since their romance had come to fruition, each of Violet’s reactions entertained Gilbert, to which he let show a smile that he could not hold back.

“I’ll be happy if, one day, you take my hand without saying anything when I hold out my arm.”

“I need training, Major.”

“Kukuh... That so? Then let’s do it, Violet.”

As the novice couple left the platform, yet another train arrived.

While Violet and Gilbert walked amidst the crowd, a different pair passed right by their side. The young woman was quite a lustrous, beautiful person, whom one could tell was of noble birth. The individual walking with a hand rested on her shoulder as if to protect her from the crowd was an androgynous beauty with unusual silver hair.

Cut short, his platinum-blond hair bore the kind of exquisiteness that looked like it would make chiming sounds as he walked. His jacket, shirt and pants were finely tailored ones. He no longer resembled at all the navigator who used to row a boat in the past.

Feeling as if an old acquaintance had passed by, Valentine halted for a moment.

“What is the matter, Rose?”

Upon being called, Valentine immediately resumed walking with a “nothing”. It was not permissible to stop in the general area of a packed entrance.

“Madam... I had this feeling that the girl I am looking for was here.”

Looking for someone all by themselves. Those two had this point in common.

“Violet Evergarden? That’s right; you will be living as an Auto-Memories Doll in the same city as her. It would not be strange if she did pass by. You will meet that girl someday. And one day – one day, you might also get to see the older brother that you told me about. After all, miracles happen every day.”

However, they had still not realized that the gears of their fates were not yet aligned.

Rose Valentine gave a smile with a “yes, Madam”. “To me, Madam, you are the miracle.”

“Why, my rose does not say such things.”

Rose’s flank was hit rather strongly, but although it actually hurt, the smile did not falter. This was also one of his secrets to success.

“Speaking of which, the Auto-Memories Doll school was truly difficult. I am grateful to Madam for sending me to it, though...”

“Oh, but you have come back as a gentleman who has become able to escort me naturally like this, so it has brought results.”

Rose’s amber eyes widened beneath silver lashes. They reflected his madam’s mischievous facial expression. Rose’s smile collapsed a little and turned into a strained laugh.

“Madam, I managed to deceive people in the past because I used to wear a hat to hide my face, but... can I really do this? Also, does this not mean that I will have to deceive all the other employees and customers?”

There was something he had not told Violet Evergarden. Violet Evergarden was a mysterious girl to him as well, but there was not that great a difference between her and himself.

“I left my hometown in order to start my own life for real, and yet...”

He – no, she was going to begin a new life in this city starting from today. Not just as “Valentine” but as “Rose Valentine”.

The madam of the S.W. (Scarlet Winter) Letter-Specialized Shop, which would later make a name for itself as a unique postal company that mostly employed male Auto-Memories Dolls, replied with an alluring smile.

If there were goodbyes, there had to be encounters. And if there were ends, there had to be beginnings.

“We will not deceive them. You will properly sell yourself as Rose Valentine, the crossdressing beauty, from the very start. We sell a hundred different types of letters, stationery, envelopes. And also the caring customer service from charming young men who have some sort of sparkle to them. There is no mistaking that this will be as addicting as high-grade drinks. It’s exactly because this business is full of women that a shop full of men will shine. Is this discrimination? Are you discriminating against me, Rose?!”

Good endings and bad endings – life went on with both included.

“Haah... But I’m a woman. No, I might be almost a man since I’ve lived most of my life tricking people about my gender...”

“That’s what’s good about it!”

“Haah...”

It looked like an eternity but was not, yet on it went.

“Your boyish side and your original girl side. I recruited you taking them into account. Be at ease. You can sell. You can. After all, there is no other such Auto-Memories Doll.”

“Haah...”

“Don’t ‘haah’ me. Geez... my lovely rose. Worry not. Have I ever lied to you?”

The story would go on. Cruel as the world might be, beautiful moments would come by again.

“It has still not been that long since I first met you... so, I would not know, Madam.”

Morning would come as long as you were there. Such was how stories were made.

[its-me-im-coraline]

Best Years // Thomas Raggi // Playlist

words // 1109

warnings // angst as hell, why am i writing so much angst? I dont know

pairing // Thomas Raggi x GN!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. sorry I did not post yesterday, i was not feeling really inspired at all so yeah, but thankfully that's changed today so here. WHO LET ME WRITE SO MUCH ANGST SOMEONE STOP ME OMG. Unless you like the angst, then don't stop me 😉 Also please forgive me for making Thomas the bad guy on this fic, i literally randomly picked the songs for these fics at first without thinking of the lyrics so now I'm stuck with the consequences of angst

request // nope

summary // Thomas and reader have been having an on and off relationship. One moment they are together, the next they are entertaining other people; but in the end they only ever think of each other.

“Don’t you just feel great, here, like that, with me holding you?” The man was lying on the bed of his hotel room, his partner in his arms, simply basking in the afterglow of what went down a few minutes ago.

Y/N just smiled at him, eyes closed and head resting on his shoulder. “Mhm,” they simply mumbled, drifting off to sleep.

By the time morning came around Thomas had already gotten up, leaving his partner alone in the bed before abandoning the room heading for the dinning area for breakfast. When he got to it his bandmates were already there, sitting at a table and eating, only giving him a disappointed look.

“You didn’t tell them. Again.” Victoria glared at her friend while poking her eggs with her fork maybe a little to violently

“There is nothing to say Vic. We are together again, what happened when we were not does not concern them.”

“Thomas! This has already happened so many times. You break up, you go with someone else, you get back together and act like nothing happened!” He was their friend, that is for sure, but Thomas’ bandmates pride themselves in their honesty and in their effort to be respectful. It did not seem to be the case for the younger man.

He wasn’t a bad person, no, but his mind was clouded by the options, the excitement of the moment, that rush. He loved Y/N - not that he knew that - but he had a terribly difficult time being consistent. He was young, spontaneous, had not had much time to explore his options, and while it was entirely wrong, he did so now at the expense of his lover. The words he heard put him in deep thought, and at this time deep thought ment deep drinking for him.

As the night rolled around Thomas found himself occupying the hotel bar. Considering emotions, problems and choices is a hard thing and though he had to do so he was not even remotely ready for that. The comfort of the drink and the existence of beautiful women was enough for a journey of the mind and a mistake of the body. By the time he was done he found himself sitting outside of his hotel room, where Y/N was just inside.

His back was on the wall and his eyes were closed, almost falling asleep right there, so he failed to hear them open the door. “Thomas, dio mio, I was just coming to look for you! Are you okay?” They were concerned to say the least, an obvious observation really. Their eyebrows were furrowed, lips separated and hand on their chest, holding the little pendant Thomas had given them - it was a thing they tended to do whenever they were nervous, hold the charm of the pendant, take a deep breath and it helped calm them down.

“No need, amore, as you can see I’m right here,” he slurred, stumbling across words, missing letters… He was very far gone and anyone could see that.

Y/N simply took a deep breath, bracing themselves for the upcoming night and morning. It was always the same cycle. He did something he should not, he would drink, do more things he should not and come back to Y/N. It was never fun but they did not have the heart to just leave him there.

“Come on, Thom, help me a little bit! You need to get up.” The man groaned but did as told before getting inside the room with his… partner.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as Y/N sat him in the bathtub, trying to rid him of his drunken state even a little bit.

“I know you are.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand! I really am sorry. I want to change…”

How many times? Just how many times has he said the same things, same excuses and same empty promises. It never changed and it had certainly gotten tiring. That was precisely the reason they could not believe that Thomas this time would be different, he had given them a million reasons to hesitate.

Maybe it was the on and off that became tiring, both parties figuring out different excuses that simply did not make sense, but always being enough to cause the temporary break ups. A lot of the time, especially if on tour, Thomas would find someone to ‘comfort’ him for a few nights, wasting his time with people that simply were not his. They never were Y/N, no matter how hard he tried to not think about that, he’d wake up the next morning with an unfamiliar person but a familiar discomfort in his stomach.

“It will not be the same, amore, I promise,” he said this time, “you’ll see! I’m willing to try.”

To be completely honest, Y/N did not seem to believe much of the man’s words. They had heard them time and time again, it had become difficult to put trust in them again. “I am not sure, Thomas,” they said, leaning behind them on the counter, “how can I possibly say that it’s ok, how can we be together, again?” The exasperation was obvious, not being able to be contained, after all the pain and the strain in their heart.

“I know, I know. I’ve been terrible… But I really am willing to change. Make it up for all the times I screwed up. I’ll make up for all of your tears.”

Y/N stayed quiet. They did not want to continue this conversation, especially while Thomas was drunk, this state making it even harder to believe him.

“I did not do it,” he breathed out after the silence had gotten too much, “I didn’t do it this time…”

“What didn’t you do?” asked Y/N, curiosity lacing their voice, puzzled at his words.

“I didn’t go with anyone. Not when we were apart this time, not while I got drunk. Everyone thinks I did so I let them believe it, but I didn’t,” he explained looking down, “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” They knew it was not the question they should be asking but before thinking the word had already come out.

“Because I realized something,” he responded, putting his palm on Y/N’s face after they came back to the side of the tub.

The only hummed back at him, prompting him to continue. “I want to be with you, for good. No more fighting, no more drinking, no more tears, baby. Nothing. I want to be full on this, please. I’ll give you the best years and nothing else will matter anymore.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11

playlist tag list: @cheese-toastie-11