#a sudden overwhelming emotion jus came to me when i came back here and all im seeing on my dashboard is rindou

[rinwhore]

i acc missed rindou sm cos

[aemonds-sapphire]

Caution: Slippery When Wet — Dabi x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Dabi just wanted to take a shower, and he didn’t care that you were in the way.

Warnings: NSFW. Orgasm denial. Overstimulation. Vaginal fingering. Quirkplay. Unprotected sex. Praise. Creampie.

Word count: 3.6k

A sudden loud bang snapped you out of your steam-induced daydream and had your heart skip a few beats in distress.

“What?!” you gnarled, eyes gazing through the foggy shower door only to be met with a pair of turquoise eyes.

Dabi.

“You done in there or what?”

Panic filled your entire body at once. “Get the fuck out!”

Any indication that you might be blessed with a peaceful shower session soon flew out the window as the young villain showed no intention of budging.

Thoughts on Dabi? You’d rather not have any. And not because you loathed him. Far from that Your body made sure that the most hostile emotion you had towards him was unquestionable sexual tension. Therefore, you really, really needed to train your mind not to fixate on him or the possibilities that might come from any interaction with him. In order to cope with this, you tried your best to mask your genuine feelings with resentment.

On the off chance your paths crossed while living together with the rest of the league, you always had your mind set on antagonizing him. You dreaded the possibility of anyone figuring out that — albeit buried deep within you —, you craved him.

“Not happening. I need a shower.”

Sliding the glass door, you peaked your head through the narrow slit only to be met with Dabi covered in... slime? From his dark hair all the way down to his boots.

“What is that awful smell?” you grimaced as the foul stench filled your nose.

“Collateral damage,” he said with a blank expression, eyes on yours. “You can thank Toga for that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go wait outside. I’m almost done here.”

No answer.

“Out!” Yyou half-yelled, feeling heat creep through your cheeks, thoroughly glad that the fog glazing the shower door kept most of your body hidden from his gaze.

No answer yet again.

“Dabi!”

He shrugged and proceeded to remove his knee-length coat showing no concern that you were intensely staring at him, mouth agape in shock.

His filthy shirt went off next, revealing the uneven edges of his staple-covered skin across his upper chest. Your heart was racing at double speed and all your brain could conjure was that you most definitely should not allow your eyes to roam across his body like that. Dabi was too fucking hot — pun fully intended— for his own good, and suspected he knew that

That proved to be enough to snap you out of your trance. “Why are you taking your clothes off?!” Yyou blurted out, failing to realize how ridiculous that sounded given the context.

Dabi paused briefly as he was about to undo his belt. “Not showering with my clothes on... the fuck?” he remarked, arching a brow and glaring at you like you’d grown a third arm.

Panic hit you instantly. “Uh—Just wait!”

His slender fingers unbuckled the belt swiftly. “Doll, you’re wasting time. All that rambling and staring... could be done already.”

He was not wrong.

It suddenly dawned on you how easily he’d always manage to crawl under your skin. Whether he knew the effect he had on you or not, it remained unclear. But something inside you clung to the idea that, whatever it was that you felt for Dabi, it was somehow reciprocated.

Patches of suds began trailing down your temples and forehead, causing further distress.

“Just...” your voice trailed off, but sudden outrage burst from within you. “Don’t you have some decency?”

“No.”

He had managed to strip all of his clothes off until he was only left in his underwear, and he was about to—

“No! No fucking way!” you shrieked in dread, quickly having to wipe a few suds that were stinging your eyes. “Leave it—“

But before you could mouth further protests, you saw him yank his underwear down, which caused your eyes to reflexively close tightly.

A low chuckle was heard. “Calm down, princess. I won’t even look. Just wanna rinse off this slime.”

You were positively mortified from all this mess, and a large part of you cheered in pride as you managed to kept your feelings towards him out of the way.

For now, at least.

Immediately, you withdrew your head from the rack, and shoved the shower door shut, with one hand keeping it in place while the other reached out to grab a bottle from the corner shelf.

Dabi tugged at the door a few times before sighing. “Seriously? You gonna throw a... bottle of shampoo at me?” he drawled out, a slight hint of amusement taintIng his voice. “Terrifying. I can see why Shigaraki scouted you,” he added in blatant mockery.

The sudden confrontation had you wish some random hole in the ground would prop open and swallow you whole, effectively putting an end to this.

Your eyes flew open at once and you glared at the bottle in your hand that read: ‘Strawberry passion — let your senses be filled with bliss and calmness’. Now that was fucking ironic.

Another tug.

“Don’t make me burn this shit down.”

You scoffed. “You keep your eyes fucking shut, then. Not even a peak.”

“Sure, doll.”

Admitting defeat, you scooted to the corner of the stall, your back facing him as you heard the door slide open. You felt him brush past you, but managed to keep your composure. There was no point in stressing about this. Dabi was merely your... colleague? Coworker? Fellow... villain? It came with the territory, right?

You grasped the shower head and raised your arm to have warm water pour down on you. For a brief moment, you were able to ignore the man behind you, and just kept on rinsing as fat as you could to terminate this awkward situation.

Just a few more seconds...

But, of course, life seldom went as planned.

“Sharing is caring, doll,” his low voice rumbled, and you felt his breath fanning the nape of your neck, causing you to jolt.

The sudden proximity sent your brain into overdrive. Every single hair in your body stirred as goosebumps spread from the shiver running down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his hand wrap around yours.

You tried to muster a few words, but the overwhelming sensation of having someone you felt so attracted to being so close to you, definitely proved to be a harder task than you’d imagined.

“Eyes shut...” you managed to mumble as a reminder, feeling the curtain of water shift to your back and ultimately leaving your body entirely.

Dabi let out a sigh of relief. “Fuck... this feels good.”

His choice of words had heat spread across you like wildfire. Unfortunately, the sudden loss of a heat source had your body quivering in an attempt to keep your temperature from dropping. You wrapped your arms across your chest out of reflex, but it did little to help.

That din’t go unnoticed by the young villain. “You cold?”

“Ju-just... hurry up...” you said between teetering teeth.

Silence fell between you two before you heard vague splashes of water. “I can warm you up.”

He was close to you once more. Too close. Close enough that you could feel his hot breath near your ear, and something else nudging at your backside.

Your head turned to glare at his half-hooded eyes. “No, thank you...”

His lips were dangerously close to yours, and from that angle you could see the way the metallic hoops on each side of his face strained but a little when he drew a faint grin.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you?”

That gave you a whiplash.

As soon a those words left his mouth, you gasped in confusion. “What?!”

But there was nothing to be confused about. It was a rhetorical question from him. You were suddenly aware that he knew. That he had been able to read your signs all along.

Dabi placed the shower head back in its holder, pressing his back fully against yours in the process.

That’s when you felt all of him.

From the hardened nipples to the cool edges of his staples, and all the way to his hard cock pressed against your ass. You shuddered under his touch, causing it to settle right in between your ass cheeks.

“Dabi...”

He bucked his hips lightly, his slippery cock gliding with ease as a deep growl ripped from him. Haziness swarmed your mind, and you pressed both hands on the cold tiles for support, welcoming the water that poured on you from the shower head.

“Say my name again...”

“Why...” you mewled back, swaying your hips sensually against him.

What the fuck...

This was probably a bad idea. You weren’t even sure how you allowed things escalate this quickly. Dabi could snap anyone in half if he felt like it; he could also incinerate anything just as easily. You supposed the dangers of meddling with someone this volatile added to the allure.

And he was aware of that fact.

He fed on it and used it to get you to surrender yourself to him.

“Say it,” he repeated his request, bringing both hands to grasp your hips.

Your eyes snapped open once he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

“I hate you.”

You mentally slapped yourself for being so weak. Those words carried no weight whatsoever, and they only served to heave a taunting chuckle from him. Even though this entire situation had your face burning with heat, the rest of your body still struggled to keep your temperature up, causing you to shiver from time to time.

Dabi excelled at reading body language like no other. He took pride in being able to know someone’s true intention just from the way their body reacted to his presence. He was no stranger to the inner workings of women when it came to him; he knew precisely which strings to tug in order to get them to crave his touch.

You were no different.

In fact, you had completely and miserably failed at keeping your thirst for him at bay.

And with unprecedented expertise, Dabi had your body to bend to his will, granting you one of your deepest desires.

You felt his palms heat up against your skin.

“I... hate you...” your voice came out in a weak tremble.

Were you trying to convince him, or yourself?

His hands began sliding up your sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. You realized you were no longer quivering from loss of warmth; your shudders were stemmed from the way Dabi was slowly and carefully feeling you up. His heated hands moved to your breasts, and without any notice, he had both your nipples being rolled in between his fingers.

Instinctively, you bucked against him. “Fuck...”

Dabi let out a hiss in response. “Sure you hate me?”

He pinched your nipples lightly before grazing his staple-covered palms along the sensitive buds.

“Yes,” you blurted out firmly.

The metallic hoops spread across his palms teased you further.

But before your throbbing clit could welcome the new stimulus, he halted and the heat pooling on his fingertips quickly died down. “So you want me to stop.”

“No!” you protested as his hands abandoned your skin.

“Then what?” Dabi inquired, bringing one finger to trail down your spine, prompting your back to arch downwards and your ass to spring up invitingly. “All these mixed signals... tss.”

You managed to suppress a moan when you felt his slippery cock slide down to tease your entrance.

“Dabi...” you let out, trying to find a few words to say. “Eyes shut.”

He chuckled. “Doll... I have my cock pressed against your ass and leaking for you... does that even matter?”

Of course not. You weren’t even sure why you had said that... your mind was playing tricks on you.

Even so, you weren’t so lucky the second time around, and when he slapped your swollen clit with the tip, your mouth fell open in a strangled cry. You highly doubted the slick tiles would be able to support your body as he proceeded to place his cock in between your damp folds.

“Hold on tight, doll. I need to prep you for my cock first,” his voice dripped with lust. “Be a good girl and bend over.”

Your pussy clenched impulsively.

To say you were completely and ridiculously turned on was the understatement of the year. No amount of rationality would help you now. You were too far gone, and your desire for him clouded any shred of judgement in you.

There was no point in resisting him any longer.

You strongly held on to the shower faucet, in the hopes of it being enough to keep your knees from giving out on you from the overwhelming pleasure spreading across your clit.

He kept sliding his thick cock along your pussy lips coating it in your wetness. It was faintly embarrassing to think of how quickly you’d gotten soaked for him, but on the other hand, you couldn’t really blame yourself for it. Dabi was definitely a natural. You figured he had enough experience to get you all riled up in no time.

You felt him snake one arm around you as his hand travelled down to your pussy. In all honesty, you felt too empty. Even though you hadn’t seen his cock, you had felt it and you craved it more than his fingers at this point.

The palm of his hand brushed against your clit, earning an instant moan from him.

“Dabi... just... fuck me...” you panted in between groans as he teased you with the staples carved into his skin.

Those staples had long caught your attention, but you never thought in a million years that you’d find pleasure in having them brush against your most intimate parts.

His velvety voice came out in a low purr. “Patience... I need you soaked enough to take my cock.”

“I am!” you half-yelled, bucking your hips in an attempt to have his cock placed at your entrance.

The hand teasing your clit stopped abruptly. “Really? Lemme check, then,” just as soon as he whispered those words, he pulled back from you momentarily, pressed one hand on your lower back to have you at a desired angle, before shoving two long fingers inside your wet cunt.

It took all of you to hold back a guttural groan from echoing throughout the bathroom. You bit down on your lower lip, an you reckoned it wouldn’t take long to draw blood. He held you firmly in place with his free hand gripping your hip while he fucked you with his fingers.

“You’re not just soaked... you’re fucking drenched,” he said in bewilderment, curling his digits inside you. “Think you can take a third one?”

You felt another fingertip prodding at your entrance, but you could only nod. There was no way you were going to open your damn mouth. The implications of doing so were far too severe, and you dreaded the idea of anyone outside being able to hear you moan for Dabi.

His third finger struggled at first to join the others. “Tight... just part your legs, doll...”

Doing as he instructed, he finally managed to get the slender digit to slide all the way in, until he was buried in you knuckle-deep. You’d never felt this stretched out before, and the newfound sensation was enough to finally have you let go of your lip and have your mouth fall open in a sigh of pure bliss.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he praised you, while finger-fucking you at a steady rhythm. “You’re literally milking my fingers...”

From the way his voice was starting to emerge fully strained, you figured this was also taking a toll on him. Having your walls involuntarily clench around his moving fingers and hearing him occasionally growl from it, had your ego soar dangerously high. Your entire body was urging you to cum, and as despair overcame your senses, you hand one han settle between your legs to rub your needy clit.

Dabi suddenly stopped thrusting his fingers, and clicked his tongue. “Stop.”

Annoyance hit you hard from the loss of his stimulation. “Fuck!”

His hand grabbed yours. “Let me make you cum. Just me.”

As soon as your gripped the faucet again with both hands, Dabi jumpstarted his ministrations in order to help you reach your much desired high.

“Say my name.”

You truly didn’t want to do that. The fear of losing control and having your moans being heard, kept you from heeding his request once again.

But Dabi had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Both his index and middle fingers pressed against your clit, and you felt the fingertips starting to heat up. He was definitely using his quirk in order to help the heat in your lower belly to intensify. It was a neat trick coming from him, and it was most welcome as you felt the familiar coil of an upcoming orgasm build inside you with each passing second.

“Say. It.”

Obscene soppy sounds left your tight pussy as he showed no signs of faltering his pace. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth hung open as you tightened around him, preparing to let a peak of pleasure wash over your body.

“Fuck... fu-fuck... I...” you mumbled incoherently, not able to muster any comprehensible thoughts.

You were so close.

Your hips jolted into his hand, and just as you were about to cum, you felt sudden emptiness and were left clenching around nothing nothing.

“What the fuck?!” You cried out indignantly. “Why?!”

The high inside your suddenly plummeted back to the ground, leaving you on the verge of tears.

Dabi gave your ass cheek a light smack. “Told you to say my name.”

You turned your head to give him a death glare. “Fuck you!”

He pressed the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Besides, I want you milking my cock.”

With one hard thrust, he pushed himself halfway inside you, unable to hold back a satisfied growl. Right then you understood exactly why he insisted on preparing you for him. He was definitely thicker and bigger than average. The sudden discomfort had you clench tightly around him in reflex, preventing him from going balls deep at once.

“Stop... fuck... stop being so fucking tight....” Dabi growled, stilling inside you. “Relax, doll...”

Your took a few deep breaths as your pussy adjusted to his unexpected size. He placed his hands on your hips, brushing his thumbs in circles across your flushed skin. It was most likely Dabi’s own way of offering comfort.

You weren’t sure how many seconds passed, but you were genuinely grateful he was waiting for you to finally loosen up and allowed his cock to finally slide all the way in.

A sudden gasp emerged from within you as his fingers gripped your hips vigorously, guiding you along his length. He started out slowly, but his self-restraint wasn’t enough to keep him from thrusting faster and deeper into you. The pace he set resembled that of someone on the edge of losing their sanity.

“You really wanna make me cum fast with that tight pussy of yours...”

His words were like fuel to the fire that once more threatened to get out of control soon enough. Your hands desperately grasped the faucet as pleasure overwhelmed you. A few more thrusts had your thighs starting to quiver.

Dabi had his fingers on your clit once again, determined to deliver all the pleasure he could possibly provide.

“Dabi... Dabi!”

His hips faltered for a split second. “Fuck... such a good and tight girl...”

You could hardly breathe once he set a new rhythm, which nearly had your face getting pressed against your hands from the brutal force.

“Dabi...” you mewled, feeling droplets of water mix with your own saliva as strings of spit hung from the corners of your mouth. You were officially drooling for this man.

In no time, your vision started to tunnel as you were thrown into the pinnacle of sheer bliss. Your mind went blank for a brief moment, with his name coming out in broken moans. The ecstatic orgasm had your pussy ripple and squeeze around his cock mercilessly as you kept rocking your hips against his desperate to ride out your high for as long as possible.

“Fuck this...” you heard him mumble at one point, his groans overcame your own. “Fuck!”

His own release was nearing, that much was certain. He was pounding into you hard and fast, jackhammering into you like his life depended on it, driving the breath from your lungs.

You had long descended from your orgasm, but you were still left to deal with the overstimulation from his cock sliding in and out of you relentlessly.

Tears soon prickled the corners of your eyes. “Oh my... god... enough.... Dabi...”

He responded by rubbing your clit harder in unison with his thrusts.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

His long drawn out groan let you know he had finally reached his peak. Your own knees began to tremble from having to hold your body in that position for so long, but he made sure you weren’t going anywhere. With a few pumps of his hips in a broken rhythm, you felt hot sprays of cum shoot inside your pussy.

He slapped your ass cheek once he was done, enjoying the sight of your pussy still tightly wrapped around him.

“What a pretty pussy....”

Your heart was still racing and your breath coming out uneven.

In one swift motion, he fully slid from inside you, and you immediately felt his cum drip as your walls contracted. “Let’s get you all cleaned up. Then we can take a proper shower.”

You were fairly certain you might regret what just happened later on, but for now, you chose to brush that aside.

Dabi wasn’t someone easy to read.

He most definitely wasn’t someone easy to get.

For the time being, you’d relish on the fact that you had made him cum. Probably not something curriculum worthy, but it was good for you and your ego.

-

Masterlist

[tobesolonely]

one weekend away

summary: y/n goes away on a weekend trip with her friends and finds it hard to enjoy herself when she’s away from her family part of my dad!harry universe!

warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking! other than that, just cute family stuff :)

word count: ~1.8k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

“Remember to test Olly’s milk on your wrist before giving it to him. Oh, and Ally has practice tomorrow at 9 am, but you know her coach likes it when they arrive a little bit earlier than that, maybe 8:45? And please make sure you swaddle Olly when it’s time for bed, that’s probably the fastest way to get him to fall asleep—”

“Y/N, I’ve got it. Yeh actin’ like ’ve never stayed home alone with my babies before,” he groans in exasperation, guiding you toward the front door, your suitcase in tow. “Go. Been tellin’ me how excited you were for this trip for ages. Yeh do so much for the kids and I, think it’ll be nice for ya to take a lil’ time off. Besides, this is a non-refundable Mother’s Day gift.” You know he’s just joking about that, but you realize that it would be a waste if you decided not to go.

“I’m just gonna miss my babies,” you confess, sighing as you adjust your purse strap on your shoulder. “I’ve never been away from them for more than a night before, you know that.” Harry nods understandingly, opening the door as he hears the driver he called for you honk their horn, signifying their arrival.

“Your friends will miss yeh if you’re not there. Go and have a good time fo’ me, love. You deserve it,” he places a kiss to the top of your head and then calls out for your daughter. “Ally! Come say goodbye to your Mumma, she’s leaving now!” You hear your daughter’s little footsteps flying down the stairs, and she reappears a moment later, running to you and giving you a tight squeeze.

“‘M gonna miss you, Mumma! Me and Daddy will take good care of Olly,” she says, her tiny voice muffled because her face was smashed against your midsection.

“Gonna be a good girl for Daddy? Promise to help out with your brother?” You ask, gently pulling her away from your body and giving her one of the sternest looks you could muster up at the moment. She nods vigorously, turning to give her dad a look.

“Yes, Mumma, I promise I’ll be good for Daddy.” You grin, satisfied with her answer.

“I guess I’ll have to bring you back a little treat then, won’t I?” She jumps from foot to foot excitedly, flashing you a big, dimpled grin. Ally promises you once again that she’ll be helpful and behave, even more excited by the promise of a treat upon your return. Harry goes to pick up your son, who was having tummy time on his play mat.

“Tell your Mumma bye-bye, Olly,” Harry coos at your son, adjusting him in his arms. Your son babbles, giving you a toothless, happy smile. You rapidly blink back tears, feeling yourself starting to grow a bit emotional. Harry notices and jokingly rolls his eyes, handing you your son to give him a proper goodbye. You place a kiss to the top of his soft head, a stray tear landing on him.

“Come on, love, don’t cry,” Harry tells you quietly, quickly wiping away your tears. “You’re only gonna be gone for one weekend, darling. We’ll all be here in one piece when you get back.” He jokes, taking Oliver from your arms and grabbing your suitcase again with his free hand. You follow reluctantly behind him, figuring you’ve already kept the driver waiting long enough.

“You’re right,” you admit, giving the driver a polite smile when he opens the backseat door for you. “Please don’t forget what I told you about Olly’s milk, Harry.” He shakes his head, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet to tip his driver. Your son is tugging at his curls, but he doesn’t seem to notice, handing the driver a crisp bill.

“Got it, love. Yeh better get goin’ before your friends think you’re not comin’ anymore, yeah?” He leans into the car and places a kiss on your lips, pulling back when Olly gives a particularly hard tug at his hair.

“Oi! Your son’s a menace,” he winces, rubbing at his head. You sniffle and laugh, giving your baby a loving look. Ally is sitting in the doorway, waiting patiently for her dad and brother to come back inside the house.

“Call me if you need anything, please? You know it’ll be nothing for me to come home.” You remind him, readjusting your purse in your lap. Harry nods, not wanting to tell you that he wasn’t planning on calling you at all so as not to bother you, shutting the car door. He steps back, and you see him mouth to your son, “Wave bye to Mumma!” and then you’re off, on your way to spend a much needed weekend away from your little family for the first time ever.

⋆⋆⋆

“Y/N, I swear we’re gonna take your phone and hide it if you keep checking it!” Your best friend threatens. “Har is fine with the kids, haven’t seen you set that thing down since we’ve gotten here.” She gestures toward your phone in your hand, and you sigh, setting it face down on the table.

You were at a winery with a couple of your closest girlfriends, out to dinner while sipping on the smoothest wine you’ve ever had in your life. You knew you needed this trip as you hadn’t seen them in ages, and you desperately wanted some time to let loose with your closest friends. However, the more intoxicated you became, the more you missed your children and husband.

“Just miss them,” you say quietly, tapping the back of your phone. Your waiter comes and sets a charcuterie board in the center of the table, quickly refilling your wine glasses before leaving you be. “It’s hard bein’ away from them. I don’t know how you both do it.” Both of your friends had children of their own, and they seemed to be okay spending an entire weekend away from them. Meanwhile, your babies were the only thing you could think about.

“How about we enjoy our food and wine, and when we get back to the lodge, you give them a quick call. That sound good, Y/N?” Your friend suggests seeing how upset you were away from your kids. Your mood immediately changes at the idea of calling and checking in on your family. You put your phone away and give your girls your undivided attention, starting to enjoy yourself even more once your small buzz kicks in.

⋆⋆⋆

“I’m gonna call Harry, you two go inside without me,” you tell your girlfriends, digging your phone out of the bottom of your purse with a bit of difficulty due to the alcohol coursing through your veins. “I’ll be there in a bit.” You dial your husband’s number quickly and bite your lip while waiting for him to pick up the phone. After the fourth ring, he answers.

“Hello?” Harry’s deep voice rumbles through your phone. “Everything goin’ okay, lovie? Wait, hold on a sec…” he trails off, moving the phone away from his mouth. “Hey, Ally, what did I tell yeh? I said you gotta eat the veggies Daddy made for yeh before it’s time for ice cream. Your whining isn’t gonna change my mind, bub.” You giggle at how strict your husband could get when it came to your daughter eating all of her vegetables.

“Hi, H. I miss you guys,” your voice slurs slightly, but you don’t even try to correct yourself. “Miss my babies sooo much. What are you all getting into?” Harry chuckles, tsking softly.

“Drunk now, are you, pet? Are yeh ‘avin a good time? We miss ya too,” Olly babbles in the background, and you hear Harry telling him to give him a second to make sure his milk isn’t too hot. You smile at the fact that he remembered your instructions from earlier.

“It’s really nice here. Thanks for gettin’ this all set up. You’re the best,” you hiccup, and Harry laughs on the other end. “The wine here is s’good, and the lodge is gorgeous. We should come back here one day.”

“Sure you’d be able to handle leaving the kids with a babysitter?” He teases. “Gonna put the phone on speaker so I can feed Olly, so please watch what yeh say.” Harry knows how you completely lose the ability to filter yourself when you drink. He doesn’t want your children to hear anything too vulgar.

“I’m not that drunk, Harry,” you protest, smiling to yourself. “I won’t keep you long. Jus’ miss you all s’much.” Harry hums as you hear your daughter asking for the third time since being on the phone with him if she could “pretty, pretty please” be excused from the dinner table. He asks her again if she’s done eating her vegetables, causing your daughter to mumble something incoherent.

“She’s not very happy with what’s for dinner tonight,” he tells you. “Been complaining ever since I told her this afternoon what we’d be havin’. Don’t know why she dislikes green beans so much.”

You laugh, nestling your phone in between your shoulder and ear. “Yeah, she hates ‘em. I personally don’t even try to get her to eat those anymore.” Harry scoffs, and you look toward the lodge, a sudden longing to be inside with your girlfriends overwhelming you. “I think I’m gonna get goin’, H. The girls are waiting on me inside.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when he speaks, you can hear that he’s definitely grinning. “When are ya gonna admit that you’re havin’ a good time, ’m perfectly capable of taking care of our babies, and I really know how to pick a Mother’s Day gift, hmm?”

“Don’t get too cocky now. You wouldn’t be bragging like this if you were alone with them for months on end like I am when you go on tour, I guarantee it,” you quip, turning to walk up the steps of your lodge. “Give the kids kisses for me, please? I miss you all so much.”

“I will, Y/N. Now, go have a drink for me, and I don’t wanna hear from you again until you’re back home, yeah? Enjoy yourself, poppet. I promise the house won’t be in flames when yeh get back, okay?” You say your goodbyes, reminding Ally once again to be kind to her father and help him out as much as she can before hanging up, going back inside to join your friends. As a mother, there was always a part of you that was going to find it challenging to be away from your children, and you didn’t think it would ever get easier. For tonight though, Harry’s words rang in your ear, and you did have a drink for him. Or two.

[shesawriter39049]

|THE PLUG|M| 5|

(I picked this because he looks genuinely happy here...once you read you’ll see why)

SMUT/ANGST/FLUFF

Pairing: Jimin X Reader

About-Post sex come down...a little pillow talk..some feels...and maybe another orgasm or two....

**Your local plug aka your weedman is now offically your boyfriend....

2K SNEEK PEAK

WARNINGS: For this part? Praise kink/Light edging/ Grinding/Non penetrative sex/ Kissing/ Overstiumlation/ FEELS OH THE FEELS/mentions of subspace (1st time) OH breif mentions of previous physical abuse

NOTE- This is a series but you can read this part and not be totally lost...however all the emotions running through Jimin’s body will hit you a little diferent if you later go read the others!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey” He coos, low, warm, a little concerned, as he soothes his palm down your back, feeling the way you try and arch up into his touch no matter how weak your body is! So he grips one hand around your neck, the other at the small of your back, and slides you up further. Bringing your forehead flush to his where you can feel a deep, slow exhale leaves Jimin’s tattooed chest as if he’s been holding his breath the entire time.

“How you feelin’ baby?” There’s slight hesitation behind the question and honestly, that was understandable, this wasn’t something either of you expected. You don’t respond, or even fully acknowledge him right away, just blinking slowly, lashes fluttering, eyes trying to readjust, feeling, and looking somewhat disoriented. Yet no matter how confused you initially are, something that’s clear the moment you regain consciousness... it’s how safe you feel in Jimin’s arms right now. I mean yeah, your a little sticky, and need a long-ass shower, but you feel good, you feel secure! Reaching up to scratch his fingertips through your scalp almost as if you’re a cat, and you find yourself smiling, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your head into his hand.

Honestly, your not sure how to process what you currently feel washing over your body! I guess because the couple times you ran through how this scenario may play out in your head, it didn’t go anything like this! It wasn’t this warm and comforting afterward….it all just felt a lot darker, scarier..almost belittling. You’re independent by nature, maybe even a female alpha by some standards, so the thought of giving yourself over to anyone in that capacity, giving them full control...As much as you’ve always wanted it, realistically it always felt scary, intimidating, even a little embarrassing in your mind! Whereas this, this right here, felt natural it felt right, your body felt loved, sated, you personally felt empowered, it was nothing like what you imagined in your head. The weight behind it was so much heavier, the connection felt deeper and more liberating than you ever thought it would. Which is what makes you endlessly grateful that you saved this for someone like Jimin. Someone who would actually appreciate the notion, and understand the mental and physical side of it all, the parts that make it more than just a kink.

Of course, we can’t disregard how you feel physically, this level of exhaustion after sex is somewhat foreign to you. Your body feels sluggish and weak, your eyes are heavy, and you already know your voice is fucked. But mentally which is where your biggest concern came from, your good, you’re at peace with it all.

Lashes fluttering up in his direction, offering a faint hum in response, nodding softly against his chest. “Jus’ tired…” giving him the best smile you can muster hoping it reaches your eyes so he believes it.

He nods, slow and understanding, “Take your time baby, sleep…you were perfect” The words smiled gently into your hair, as his fingers trickle up and down your spine. Jimin knows he told Yoongi an hour, he also knows the topic of Dom being out of jail is a serious situation and needs to be addressed. However, he can’t and won’t allow himself to pull away from you until your in a stronger state than you are right now. He just can’t, so he reaches for his phone sending the elder a quick text, essentially explaining that he’s not sure when but they will talk at some point tonight.

Eventually, he feels your breathing completely even out, and your lashes still against his skin. Indicating your exhaustion has officially washed over your body and you’ve drifted off into what he hopes is a peaceful night's sleep.

Jimin’s not even sure how much time has passed and to be honest he really doesn’t care, the silence is comforting just laying in bed breathing as one. He’s far from tired, though he has every reason to be exhausted, there’s just way too much swirling around his head right now. The only sound in the room is the faint hum of the fan and the occasional playful banter he can hear from his boys downstairs. His heart feels... full, it feels complete as you lay here with him, your body feeling completely at ease against his own. After allowing him to have you in your most vulnerable state of being, after trusting him to take care of you the way you needed, even if you didn't really know what that was!

He’s not sure why or when but his eyes start to burn again and this time he lets the tears gently stream down his face. Reclining his neck, staring up at the ceiling, securing his hold around the nape of your neck and the small of your back. As if he’s reminding himself that you're here, right here and you’re not going anywhere! Jimin knows these are happy tears, and they are, he can’t even remember the last time every aspect of his life has felt as though it’s come together at once. Yet he also can’t help that ache in the back of his heart when he thinks about Dom...he’s not scared of him by any means. They use to be boys, but it’s not a secret they’ve always road slightly different waves until they eventually crashed into one another! What he is scared of is the person Dom might turn him back into if he oversteps his boundaries, especially where you’re safety’s concerned. Jimin told you that night in the car about the situation that eventually led to him leaving his parents for good. About how abusive his dad was to his mom and even after he helped her move she still let him come back. About that one night, he walked in on his dad on top of his mom and completely blacked out! The way his mother had to physically pry him off his father or he's not sure if or when he would have stopped on his own.

Jimin never thought he’d meet someone else that could get him to that point if need be, to the point that he’d do any and everything to keep them safe! Maybe it’s fucked up repossession for the fact that he feels like he couldn’t really keep his mother safe...But as he looks down at you, laying so pliant and trusting on his chest, he vividly recognizes that sense of protectiveness streaming through his veins! A feeling he hasn’t felt in years, he just prays, he never has to go there with anybody where you’re concerned, because what’s evens scarier is he knows he will, in a heartbeat!

Jimin’s not that reckless 16-year old with nothing to lose anymore, and that’s what he has to remember when his mind goes off the grid like that! He’s a  grown-ass man! A man that has so much going for him regardless of how others may feel about is life choices, he knows he’s doing well for himself! He also knows he has so much to look forward too, and more importantly he has so much worth keeping! Including the beautiful woman laying on his chest that’s choosen to walk head first into a hurricane with no fear...because she knows it’s worth it. She knows Your worth it ….

He opts not to fight it and just let it be, and continues to allow himself to feel everything he needs to, trying his hardest not to wake you in the process. Periodically wiping his face so his tears don’t trickle down his neck, trying to keep his body at ease so his abdomen dosen’t tense the more he cries. Allowing his mind to wander continiously flowing from thought to thought. The overall consensus of it all though, is he deserves this he deserves to be happy, all he can hear is Tim telling him at the end of every day they spent together…

“It’s worth it kid, it may not feel like it right now but it is, trust me one day it will be!” And he was right because right now, everything he’s ever been through feels so minuscule in comparison to how overwhelmed and happy his heart is. He almost wants to feel like he doesn’t deserve to feel this overflow but he won’t allow himself to sink there be he dose! He fuckin does….Jimin’s eyes are cloudy and heavy it hurts to keep them open at this point and he’s sure he looks like a damn blowfish. That’s when his phone beeps in his hand and his body stills praying you don’t wake up, instantly turning the phone on silent. Glaring at his phone through clouded vision to see a text from Yoongi that simply reads.

“Whenever you’re ready”

And he can’t help but smile and cry a little more because he swears the elder has a sixth sense when it comes to him. Always knowing exactly when to push and when to just ease up, Yoongi’s been a friend, a big brother, a shoulder, hell even a father in some instances since Tim’s past. Honestly, he really wonders where he’d be right now if it wasn’t; for Yoongi cheering him on, and being his right hand whenever he’d needed one! Jimin’s also very acutely aware that he does owe his “Hyung” (which is a name he’s never called Yoongi in his life mind you so, he still can’t get over the fact that he reffered to himself as such. ) A thank you, for making sure you came over here tonight because fuck if he didn’t need it! Whipping his eyes somewhat agressivly as if to say he’s gotten frustrated with himself from crying so damn much!

“Go, I’m okay…” The words muffled low and horse against Jimin’s chest but he heard you loud and clear. Eyes wide and a little disoriented at your sudden response. I mean he obviously knows what you’re referring to he just- I guess didn’t think you were fully conscious when Yoongi called initially to even know what was going on!

“What baby?” Fingers playing idly in your hair, as he felt you shift against him, head tilting in his direction, trying to let your eyes readjust to the now pitch-black room.

“That was Yoongi earlier right? Go I’m’ fine, I prom-”

‘Baby” Tone a little sharper than before but the concern is overtaking any authority he’s attempting to have right now!

“Stop,” Gently pressing your palm against his chest as if to slow him down “ I know this weekends crazy for you, I wasn’t nexpecting your undivided attention when I stopped by…I just needed to see you.” Reaching out into the dark to stroke his jaw, gently thumbing along his plump bottom lip. “Plus...mm..kinda hungry” Ohhh and the beauiful moment has now ended...smooth transition...smooth.

You could feel Jimin’s face split into a smile beneath your fingers which quickly transitioned into a full-blown cackle, loud, airy, and just fuck relieved...so damn relieved that you genuinely did seem to be okay…

“Ohh so that’s what this is about? Just trying to use me for my car huh? I see how it is…” A blatant pout laced within his delivery though it was clearly playful.

Shifting against his lap slightly, leaning down to search for his lips, which didn’t take long to find. Jimin flicked his chin up to meet yours immediately, sighing out the minute you made contact. “Yup, just wat you for your car...oh and your weed lets not forget your weed” 

A stated smile playing on your lips, as you kissed him,honestly the two of you were smiling so hard at first it took you a minute to even get into a groove! It started off slow, and chaste, initially, until Jimin reclined his jaw to allow you to lick your way back into his mouth for the umpteenth time tonight. The kiss was slow, deep, heavy, the gentle slide of his tongue against your own, as you swallow each other moans triggered by faint touches on the edge of your fingertips. Tattooing goosebumps along the soft planes of your skin after every featherlike touch…Jimin’s hands moved through you like an ocean. Ravishing every inch of you he could reach, gently massaging your aching body between his strong nimble fingers. You could feel the heightened sense of urgency within every kiss that fell of Jimin’s lips, he was kissing you as if he was afraid to let you go. As if he was trying to say something he really wants’t ready to say quite yet, but needed you to feel...

“Thank you” Pants from your lips and brushes agaisnt his, thumbing at the hinge of his jaw “For taking such good care of me, for keeping me…”up” as they say. I know at some point will need to talk about it. But right now, I’m tired, really fuckin hungry...and honestly, I feel good baby, I’m good…” Nuzzling against his nose, a faint smile playing on your lips.

You could vaguely see him nod, though even in the darkness you could sense the hint of concern and hesitation within his eyes as he pulled you back down.  So you reiterated it one more time, only there seemed to be a hint of something more than excitation dripping of your tongue once you realized the way your man was looking up at you.

“I’m good” Nipping his bottom lip between your teeth gently....

“Mmm, yeah, you are good, so damn good...” Placing another lingering kiss along your lips, hands moving down to massage the swell of your ass. which eventually leds to him rocking his hips up into you, causing you to subconsciously grind down against his lap.”Your fucking perfect”

 Panting and moaning lightly against his mouth at the sudden stimulation,within seconds he had you feeling like you were burning from the inside out. Hands gripping down to guide your hips, so you don’t have to move, rolling them even harder against his length which is now rock hard. Well aware that he’s grazing your clit every time which is exactly what he’s aiming to do. Your pussys dripping down his cock, lips spread apart giving him the perfect slide to rip you apart all over again. And your just hanging on for the ride, tt’s not long before your thighs are shaking, and your clits rock hard against him. Your bodies still overly sensitive from your two orgasms barely an hour prior, lets also not forget to mention your body still recovering from its first subspace on top of it all.

“Jimin” You whine out low and shaky, eyes barley ajar “Fuck, your gonna-”

“Yeah, I know..I know...you can do it for me, baby, I know you can...come one more time for me before I go...” There's this slight whine laced within Jimin’s voice right now, as if he’s truly saying he, needs you to come..he needs it. There a silent “please” placed within his delivery that has your toes curling into the sheets. Lips ghosting against yours, as he slowly slides his tongue back into your mouth hot and heavy. Continiously guiding your hips in a deep, hard wave  until he feels you crying against his tongue, body going completely ridget on top of him, as he edges you through it. “Yess” Slurs off his tongue over and over againas he feels you come undone, as if hes cheering you on. Nails digging into his bare chest, and he doesn’t let you breathe he doesn’t give you an inch he just kisses you right through it. Smiling against your lips as you fall completely limp against him…moaning against your tongue as he feels you driping down is cock. ‘Good girl.....my good girl” Gently rolling his hips into you, as he eases you through your comedown, body jerking in oversensetivity the entire time.

“Fuck” Panted from your lips and into the side of his neck, chest still rising and falling against his own. 

Jimin chuckles low and pleased against your lips “I just had to make sure you fell right back asleep once I leave… “ Feathering an array of kisses against your lips that you were far too spent to reciprocate but you appreciate nevertheless.

“I’m gonna assume you want Taco Bell?”

Only offering a faint hum in response I’m not sure what else he really expected you to do at this point, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. Gently soothing his hand up your back, giving you a moment to fully come down before he tenatively shifts you off of his chest. Reaching over for his phone with his oppisite hand, shooting Yoongi a quick text

Jimin: Come ride with me to get food for Y/N, we can talk about Dom then, I’ll be ready to leave in 15!

Jimin: Oh, have Tae or Kook go to her car it’s unlocked and bring her bags in, leave them outside my door.

Jimin: Thanks hyung ;P

__________________________

HEYYYYYYY,

If you guys are excited for part 5 show this some love and come talk to meee!!! I’ve been playing with this chapter for about a month now....

Also, CH.5 is the rest of 4:20 weekend...which hint, hint does involve Yoongi and Jimin meeting with Dom, and some other little domestic-esq moments! This also obviously isin’t the only smut in the chapter I actually wanna have them have sex in a fun location I just dont know where yet. Yoongi and Tae are in chapter 5 a little more as well! 

Part 6 is where it Jumps ahead to the wedding she and Jimin attend in miami btw!

PART 4 :

[fancifulwhump]

i’m a simple bitch who likes seeing jaskier get kidnapped and geralt having to rescue him lmao

AN:   as you ask, so shall you recieve.   protective geralt going from beast-mode to soft??  that’s my jam, dude

In Geralt’s complete defense, the risks of leaving Jaskier unattended — of which past experience had proven were many — really paled in comparison to a Devourer attack.

Rather, an attack by multiple Devourers, at the same bloody time, with the tenacity of a pack of wild wolves. The flesh-craving beasts showed little interest in a Witcher’s mutated blood. They wanted human flesh, and human alone. A reign of terror stretching on for weeks before Geralt happened upon the poor mining village in the mountains made that clear enough. People could no longer venture from their homes without risk of being torn to bits by a sulking monster. Geralt’s arrival was a blessing to them. Jaskier’s presence — for, having hit a creative dry spell, he'd been following Geralt for the last few weeks, to “fan the flames of inspiration” — was just convenient. 

Geralt never liked using the bard as bait. This had nothing to do with any moral qualms; any time Jaskier involved himself in a kill, things got complicated. He simple had a talent for getting in the way. Trouble was drawn to him like a magnet; rather than avoid it, the idiot almost seemed to invite it. Geralt tried to keep Jaskier out of the way during jobs because bailing him out of danger was more trouble than any amount of coin was worth.

That, and he’d rather not see his companion be mauled or swallowed whole by a monster. 

Sometimes, however, Jaskier’s presence during a job could actually be useful. Like it or not, Geralt had to put him to work.

“This isn’t my first time playing irresistibly seductive meat-sack, you know,” huffed the meat-sack in question, carefully fastening his lute to a pack strung along Roach’s side. When Jaskier looked up at Geralt, his eyes glittered. Whatever thrill he got from being in mortal peril, it was probably worrying. “Practically used to it by now. Could make it a profession. Thank the gods I’m here, too, or what else would you have done? Picked up a nice, juicy steak from the market, and dressed it up like a toddler?”

Geralt snorted, unsheathing a dagger from his belt. It was a small, silver-bladed thing — better for throwing than stabbing, though it could be useful at close range. The hilt was almost too small for his hands. In Jaskier’s, it fit perfectly.

“Only if you need it,” he said. Jaskier gripped the blade, eyes wide with fascination, before nodding and tucking it into his own belt. “Quick slashes. If you have to stab, stab deep.”

Of course, Jaskier couldn’t fight, and he certainly didn’t stand a chance against a monster… but at least he wouldn’t be completely helpless.

So, Jaskier was sent on ahead, and did what he did best — played the oblivious fool. Only when he’d blustered along the mountainside for about ten minutes, leading Roach along as the Witcher silently trailed them both, did their plan show signs of success. In the distance, a few rocks shifted. Pebbles rolled down the mountainside. The faint trill of birdsong went quiet.

Jaskier had been humming to himself, but his voice cut off abruptly. His head raised; he glanced around. That was all he had time to do before a blur suddenly shot out of the cave, launching itself at him.

And another, and another — more than Geralt expected.

In a few swift bounds, he was in the middle of the fray, cutting Devourers down in midair. This was just enough time for the bait to make his escape. With the battle begun, Jaskier leapt on top of Roach and sped off — “somewhere safe”, Geralt had told him.

So maybe Geralt was the fool, for assuming the hapless bard could look after himself. At any rate, he trusted Roach to keep Jaskier out of trouble; the horse always had more sense than he did, anyhow. 

An hour, maybe, or less — that’s how long it took for Geralt, covered in Devourer blood and a few new scratches, to follow the trail his horse and companion left, only to come up empty handed. Not being able to hear Jaskier’s annoying caterwaul was the first sign of trouble. Coming across a lute in the bushes, smashed and abandoned, was the second.

Picking up the remnants of the familiar instrument, Geralt’s hands tightened around the wood; he sighed through his nose, barely able to restrain his own frustration.

Served him right for letting Jaskier near his bloody horse... and letting them both out of his sight.

Witcher senses were better honed for tracking than even the most astute hunter. It also helped that the bandits didn’t bother to cover their tracks well. The left a trail of broken twigs, snapped branches, and footprints behind them. However much of a head start the group — Geralt counted five sets of footprints, maybe six — had on him, it didn’t take long to track them down.

Even so, it took long enough. Too long.

He could smell the blood before the noises reached his ears. Perhaps the senses hit at the same time, and he just didn’t register; as soon as that metallic tang hit his nose, all-too-familiar, Geralt saw red. Blood meant nothing on its own, but this blood held a familiar scent — he’d recognize it anywhere. It was as familiar to him as that annoying voice, or that smirk any time Jaskier said something he thought was particularly funny. Blood could belong to anyone, but Jaskier’s blood was his, and Geralt could smell a lot of it.

Blood, and noise, and shouting — not Jaskier’s voice, but a stranger’s rough tone, spitting venom in a language Geralt faintly recognizes. A horse’s frustrated wail. Sharpening blades. And underneath it all… a strangled whimper.

Geralt found the bandits’ campsite.

As for whatever happened at the campsite… well, he couldn’t be held responsible.

By the time the last of the thieves took off running into the forest, stumbling over himself in horror, the bandits’ camp was utterly quiet. Before his body hit the tree, the big one had been making an awful lot of noise. So was the quick one, when he hissed at Geralt and tried to draw his sword; thankfully, Geralt was quicker. Now, in the silence, with nothing but his heavy breathing as he came back to awareness, Geralt could see everything.

Roach was unharmed, tied to a tree. She stomped her feet as Geralt came closer, as if applauding his quick work… but Geralt’s attention turned in a second, from her to the other side of the clearing. Silence reigned there as well, and it was unnerving. 

Jaskier was never silent. Jaskier didn’t know how to be silent. 

The figure slumped against the base of the tree, chest bound with rope and head bowed, did not make a sound.

The stench of blood grew overwhelming the closer Geralt got. He had to force himself not to focus on it. Instead, he honed in on Jaskier’s heart, beating a steady rhythm in his chest. Not faltering, not stuttering — he was alive, then. Unconsciously, a sigh of relief escaped Geralt, loud in the silent woods.

Then he saw the blood staining a head of dark hair, trailing down Jaskier’s jaw.

“Shit.” Immediately, he dropped to one knee, hand finding his companion’s shoulder. The battered captive’s face scrunched you in pain when Geralt gripped it. “Jaskier. Hey! Jaskier.” Unwilling to hurt him any further, Geralt shook his companion lightly. “Wake up.”

It was just enough — or maybe the pain from Geralt’s touch pulled him back into wakefulness. Jaskier stirred, head sluggishly rolling on his shoulders. For a moment, he struggled to lift it, as though his skull were filled with lead rather than gray matter. When he finally managed, he blinked sluggishly up at Geralt, pupils blown wide. Concussion, then, Geralt thought, and had to bite back another curse.

“Ah hah — the mighty Witcher!” Jaskier’s head fell back like a doll’s; still, he offered Geralt a wide grin. His teeth were stained with blood, from the busted corner of his lip. “Knew you’d come for me. It was only a matter of time. Caught about half that fight, I think. Just half. Til you threw that one lad down the hill.”

Was it any surprise that even half-senseless, Jaskier still didn’t know how to shut up? Geralt just took it as a good sign that he was talking. While the bard blathered on, he busied himself checking Jaskier over for further injuries. His shoulder was probably dislocated; he’d have some colorful bruises in the morning; there were a few deep scratches along his face and bare forearms, like he’d been dragged through brush…

“Mmm. Geralt. Hey.” Jaskier’s movement was sudden — like a marionette unable to control his own limbs, his arm raised, landing heavily on Geralt’s shoulder. When Geralt looked up, Jaskier’s head was lolling to the side. He seemed to be putting in a valiant effort to stay awake. Half opened eyes remained trained on Geralt, warm with an emotion Geralt could not name, but left him feeling immensely guilty. He should have gotten here sooner. He shouldn’t have let Jaskier out of his sight in the first place.

“Look,” said Jaskier — and, very deliberately, nodded towards the thug still crumpled at the base of a nearby tree. The tree’s trunk had a dent in it. Geralt wished he’d thrown him harder. “In the pockets,” insisted Jaskier, giving Geralt a weak push of encouragement.

Bemused, Geralt made his way over; hoisting the thug’s body up by the back of his jacket, he shook him out for any spare bits. A shower of gold pieces greeted him, along with a pair of rings… and a silver-bladed dagger, stained with blood. Geralt lifted the familiar blade, frowning at it. When his gaze turned to Jaskier again, a grin, bleary but proud, greeted him.

“Jus’ like you said,” Jaskier slurred, then let out a dry crackle of laughter. “I stabbed ‘im deep. And they did not appreciate that, let me tell you —“

“Damn it, Jaskier,” Geralt muttered, hand tightening around the blade.

Yet another mistake to tally for the day. Giving Jaskier a weapon was supposed to keep him out of trouble, not damn him deeper.

Without bothering to clean it off, Geralt rounded on Jaskier, blade clutched in his hands. Jaskier’s unfocused gaze tracked his approach with obvious effort. However hard he was trying to stay awake, he was fighting a losing battle. Even so, not a flicker of fear crossed Jaskier’s face at the sight of a hulking Witcher, advancing with a blade in hand.

Geralt cut Jaskier’s bonds in a few quick strokes. As soon as he was no longer bound to the tree, Jaskier slumped forward. It took Geralt’s quickest reflexes to lurch sideways, catching him before he could hit the ground. A dead weight in his arms, Jaskier let out a small moan.

“What is it?” Geralt demanded. As he shifted the injured man into an easier position, Jaskier inhaled sharply, face twisting up in pain. Another groan sounded through clenched teeth, but a second later Jaskier forced a strained smile.

“Kicked me in the chest — more than once.”

Geralt didn’t need to test the statement any further. As gently as he was capable of being, he eased Jaskier back against the tree. Broken ribs would be more of a headache than all of Jaskier’s other injuries combined, but hopefully he didn’t shatter so easily. Human bodies were so fragile; Geralt saw it every day, of course, in the remains of men torn apart by monsters. Seeing it firsthand was different. Seeing Jaskier, of all people, wounded and in pain… something in Geralt’s chest was drawn tight, like a clenched fist, and the more his companion swallowed back sounds of pain, the tighter it got.

“Better get you up, then,” he muttered. Jaskier nodded, face still screwed up. A long moment passed before his hand tightened on Geralt’s shoulder, and it took yet another moment before he managed to hoist himself upright.

Finding his feet was another challenge. Geralt did his best to offer support without brutalizing Jaskier’s injuries further. No sooner did he pull himself up, however, than Jaskier began to teeter. When his gaze slipped out of focus, Geralt’s arm twined around him. He caught him just as Jaskier’s knees began to buckle.

A yell shattered the illusion of quiet around them, ripping through Jaskier’s body like a physical attack. As fresh pain rippled through his chest, he shoved away from Geralt, who released him without protest. For a moment, it seemed certain that Jaskier would topple. His breathing heavy, each gasp an effort that nearly knocked him sideways, he finally managed to find his feet. Wide eyed, he gazed at Geralt, twisting a protective arm around his chest.

“I’m — I’m okay.” Jaskier put a hand up. “I’m fine. But next time — next time I fall, Geralt, don’t bother catching me.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow. In response, Jaskier shook his head. “I can manage on my own.”

And to his credit, he did. He managed to get on Roach, at least, and the horse carried him back the rest of the way. Jaskier didn’t lose consciousness once, no matter how his head lolled or his senses drifted. Geralt didn’t mind the slurred ramblings, weaving their way through utter nonsense. Only when Jaskier went silent did he worry. Each time, he looked up to find his friend fading, blue eyes half-shut, head falling against his shoulder. Geralt gave a bruising pinch to the flesh of his arm, and Jaskier awoke again.

The nearest inn was a night’s ride from their campsite, and it was getting dark already. By the time they made it back, there seemed little sense going any further, especially with Jaskier in his state. He fell into his bed as soon as Geralt had it laid out on the ground, and did not have the energy to raise his head, even when Geralt offered him a sip of much-needed water.

“‘M fine,” Jaskier muttered. His muted tone suggested he was anything but; Geralt wouldn’t argue, though, if rest was really what Jaskier needed. 

“We need to set your shoulder,” he remarked, keeping his voice low for Jaskier’s benefit. “And clean the blood from your head. That wound ought to be bandaged.”

Jaskier nodded along slowly, as thought everything Geralt was saying made perfect sense. His eyes were closed, expression unchanging, so however much he really understood was anyone’s guess. Frowning, Geralt took the liberty of wetting a cloth himself. Hesitating for just long enough to wonder which decisions in his life brought him to this point — to caring so deeply for someone so easily breakable, so human — he set the cloth against Jaskier’s bloodied face. As the grime was sponged away, Jaskier could not help but sigh in relief.

“That’s the stuff,” he muttered. “All I need. Just… rest, Geralt? Can we? Is that okay?”

Geralt considered him for a moment. “Yes, Jaskier. We can rest awhile.”

This was all he needed to hear. Jaskier smiled, setting his head back down on his pack once more; as his eyes drifted shut, Geralt fought off an instinctive flash of worry. Hand tightening around the damp cloth, he brought it back to Jaskier’s face, and continued cleaning the remnants of that bloody encounter.

Next time they faced down monsters, he might think twice about letting Jaskier out of his sight… but no matter what trouble he fell into, Geralt would always be there to pull him out.

[jayofmemory]

Orange Sillohette

Hey yall!! It’s been a log time since I’ve uploaded anything, and while I wish I had ideas for Branded, yall’re just gonna have to have this one shot for now lol. Enjoy~

Chase was shocked awake by the sound of something hitting the ground hard. He stumbled to his feet and put a hand against the wall while he steadied his breathing and blinked the dots away. Everything felt like it was spinning. Where was he? He blinked again, leaning against the cool wall and tried to look around, but all he could make out were the muted, bright colors and lights of a city at night. He could faintly hear the voices around him, they seemed panicked, but the ringing in his ears was too overwhelming to focus on anything.

He tried to make his way to a quieter part of town, not noticing that no one was paying any attention to him. If they were, they would probably think he was drunk with his glazed over eyes, half leaning against the wall as he walked. He had been drinking a little, but not so much to make him feel like this... right? He shook his head, trying to remember how he got into the city.

“I... drove here... and-and went up to the roof... to... d-d-drink.” He mumbled quietly as he walked. Soon he was in a park in the middle of the city, finding a bench and laying down on it.

“I drove past here...” He could see the world going dark as a faint siren sounded in the distance. “I...”

-- -- --

Marvin walked through the city, the first few rays of sunlight bouncing off his hair as it flapped behind him in a loose ponytail. His searching eyes scanned the area, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. He had seen what happened, but he wanted to know how, and more importantly, why. Why had he done it? Why did he leave so late at night?

A few people gave him a funny look as he quickly walked past, but thankfully none of them stopped him. Just as the shops around him began to open and people started arriving, he came to the park. He sat down on a nearby bench and turned on his phone, scrolling through the texts from his brothers from the night before. He sighed, pressed his fingers to his temples, and took a deep breath. He was still too tense to really think properly.

“-vin?”

Marvin opened his eyes and looked around, but didn’t see anyone.

“Maybe I’m just hearing things...” He muttered. Just then he noticed that one of the crystals on his necklace was glowing faintly. He held it up and gazed at it.

“Huh, that’s weird.” He blew on it and for a moment the light grew brighter.

“Can y- m-“

“Again?” He whispered. “Who’s there?” He commanded.

The crystal glowed bright again, a little more steady this time, and for a moment, Marvin saw a flicker of a form right in front of him.

“Marvin?” And just like that, the form was gone.

“What do you want, spirit?” Marvin tried to keep his voice steady. It had been many years since this crystal had lit up, the one for souls. There was silence, except for the shuffle of leaves in the wind. Did the spirit leave? Marvin looked at the crystal one last time before standing up and looking around quickly to make sure no one was near before making a portal. As he slipped through the portal to his apartment, he felt a sudden weight around his neck and stumbled forward. 

The portal closed instantly behind him and the weight was gone. He shuffled in place for a little bit before he got an idea. He headed to his bedroom and pulled out a box from underneath his bed. He found the crystal he was looking for immediately. It was a much larger version of the crystal that had been glowing earlier.

He sat it on the ground and inspected it. There was a small dot of light that flashed for a second, on the side opposite from him.

“So you followed me home. Hey, you want to talk, right? Follow my lead.” Marvin placed a hand on the large crystal and after a second another hand print appeared, glowing, on the other side.

“You may talk.”

There was a moment of silence before he heard a whisper. “... Marvin... am I dead?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t know who you are, but you seem to know my name. This stone lets me talk with the dead so I can hopefully put you to rest.”

“I don’t...” The whisper paused. “I-I can’t be dead... I- Marvin please, can’t you do something?”

“I’m sorry, my necromancy is pretty weak.” He paused. “Stay here please.” He released the crystal and stood up, making his way over to one of the book shelves. After selecting a dusty book from the top shelf, he made his way back in time to hear “why can’t I remember?”

“Remember what?”

“How I... died.”

Marvin sat down and opened the book to a certain section. “Hmm... you must be recently deceased then. I remember my teacher saying that the recently departed have trouble remembering how it all happened. Let’s see... here! I found a spell that might speed up the process for you to remember. I just need your full name and the last thing you remember from being alive.”

“Can’t you recognize my voice?”

“No? You’re coming through as a whisper.”

“Marvin... it’s me. Chase.”

Marvin froze, wide eyed. He looked at where he thought the spirit’s eye level would be in shock. “No... Y-you’re joking.”

“Marvin, I’m serious.” The crystal glowed a little brighter. Marvin could feel tears coming to his eyes but he quickly wiped them away.

“Y-you jumped...”

“What?”

“They found you on the ground out front of a 5 foot building downtown. You- the only way you could have been that badly injured is if you jumped.”

“No, I wouldn’t have!” The handprint glowed brighter.

“H-hold on...” Marvin flipped a few pages in the book and pressed his hand against the crystal again, closing his eyes and beginning to repeat a spell. He opened one eye and looked up. There, in front of him, was the glowing orange translucent form of his brother.

“You’re really-“ He reached out and was relieved when he could touch Chase’s arm.

Chase jumped at the sudden touch and looked Marvin in the eye. Marvin couldn’t hold his emotions back any longer and reached over the crystal to hug his brother, burying his face in his shoulder.

“It’s actually you!” Marvin gasped. Chase went to hug him back and realized he was shaking.

“Of course it’s me...”

After a moment longer, Marvin released him and sat back down, instead placing Chase’s hands in his, as if he was making sure he wouldn’t vanish again.

“Um... what all happened last night?” Chase asked, relieved at the touch.

Marvin drew in a sharp breath before he began. “1:34 am. I received a text from Jameson saying you were in the hospital with serious injuries. In a few minutes he texted back that you were dead. I teleported over and they said you.. had jumped off of a building downtown. The impact had practically killed you instantly, but even still, Henrik tried to save you.” He paused and drew in another shaky breath. “Why...”

“Why did I jump.” Chase finished his question. “I... don’t know. I don’t remember anything after I drove downtown. There was... whiskey next to me.”

“Chase-“

“I know I know, I promised I would quit. I just... it was our anniversary. The day I left... the day Stacy stopped letting me see our kids.”

“It was... wait you said the last thing you remember was driving downtown? We can still try the memory spell if you want.”

Chase paused before nodding, a determined look on his face. There was a sound of turning pages and muttering from somewhere outside the room, but he didn’t have time to question it before a searing pain hit him. He cried out in pain and keeled over, putting his hands over his ears. There was a soft touch on his hands again and the pain ebbed away. He sat back up, dazed and noticed Marvin was holding his hands again.

“Gah... is it supposed to hurt that ba-“ Chase froze as the memories flooded back into his head. He wobbled in place and shook his head, his mind finally clear. His eyes widened and he looked up at Marvin, who had worry and curiosity in his expression.

“Chase?”

“I didn’t jump. I was pushed.”

Marvin’s eyes widened before they narrowed in fury. “Who.”

“I can’t... see them...” Chase closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. “I’m sitting on the roof, looking at the stars. I’m holding the bottle, it's maybe a fourth empty. My cheeks feel wet. I stand up and walk to the edge before sitting down again. There is a noise behind me. I turn around and I feel hands on my back, pushing me. Red hoodie... black gloves and... the green eye...”

“Green eye?!” Marvin interrupted.

“Green. Marvin, it was Jackie. No, it was his body.”

“Anti?!” Marvin shot up. “Crap, of course he was behind this! I need to-“

Chase stood up, watching as Marvin made a portal. He turned quickly back to Chase and removed a bracelet from his wrist and slipped it onto Chase’s.

“This should let you be able to talk to the others outside my body.”

“Wh-?”

“Oh yeah I had you possess me so I could see you, sorry for not asking. Come on.”

Before Chase could blink they were in Henrik’s office. He and Jamie were sitting on the bench, asleep on each other’s shoulders, eyes red from crying. Marvin snapped loudly, awaking the two of them instantly.

“Sorry to awake your slumber, but do either of you know where Jackie is?”

Henrik grunted and slipped over to his desk. “He’s at... that building. Where Chase ju-“

“He didn’t jump.” “I didn’t jump.” Chase and Marvin said together. Henrik and Jamie looked at Marvin in shock and confusion.

“Sorry, no time to explain.” Marvin began making another portal. “I’ll get him and come back for you three.”

“Three?!” Henrik exclaimed as he slipped through and disappeared with a pop. Henrik and Jameson stared at each other in silence, now wide awake.

“Well... would you like me to explain all this now or after he comes back?” Chase broke the silence, startling the other two.

“Wha- who-?” Henrik stammered.

Chase stifled a giggle. He knew Henrik didn’t really believe in too much of the supernatural stuff that Marvin loved so much.

“Chase!?!” Jamie signed, hands slightly shaking.

“Yeah um... sorry to scare you two but you can’t really see me right now cause uh.. I’m kinda... dead? But it looks like you can hear me so that’s good! Marvin’s spells worked!”

Henrik stared at the direction the voice was coming from, contemplating everything he knew.

Before either of them could answer the portal opened back up and Jackie flew through it backwards.

“GRAB HIM!” Marvin yelled as he came flying in after.

Henrik grabbed the hero before he hit the wall.

“Hold him there, I need to get it out of him.”

Suddenly Jackie jerked in Henrik’s arms and a distorted laugh echoed through the room.

“W̧h͟a̴̛t͠,̵ ̷y͠o҉̧ù ̨c̨̡a̴̶n̶͞’͟͟ţ͟ ͝f̸i͟͝g̀́h͡t̶ ҉͠m̢̛é ̕o̡͜n̡͞ ͘ý̕o̕u͡ŗ̛ ͟o͢w͢n̢͜,͠ ̸͜m̡a͟g̡i̵͝c̢̛i͟͏a̸n͏?̧͟” Jamie and Henrik paled instantly, being all too familiar with that voice. Jackie’s left eye flashed green as the whites of his eyes went black.

Marvin’s eyes glowed an icy blue and a sudden gust of wind whipped around the room. He pressed his hand against Jackie’s face and said a spell in a language that none of them could understand.

Jackie’s body spasmed in Henrik’s grasp, glitching harshly. Marvin pulled his hand back but continued chanting as black smog erupted from Jackie’s eyes and mouth, glitching and fizzing as it shot towards the ceiling. Suddenly everything was quiet and both Jackie and Marvin went limp. Jamie caught Marvin and Henrik held Jackie up still, then Jackie started coughing and breathing in heavily. Henrik released him and Jackie fell to his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath. Marvin blinked and looked up before pushing himself gently out of Jamie’s grasp and moving closer to Jackie. He lifted his head up and looked him in the eyes before smiling.

“You’re back.”

“Y-yeah-“ Jackie attempted to respond but ended up coughing a bit. “How did you know he was in me? He was... doing a pretty good job of pretending to be me for a week or two.”

“Are you alright?” Chase asked before Marcin could answer.

Marvin nodded and Jackie’s head shot up, looking around wildly. “Chase?!”

“Sorry, you can’t see me.”

“Yet.” Marvin grinned, all eyes moving to him. “That exorcism took a lot out of me but I think I have enough energy for one more magic trick. Henrik? Where’s the body?”

Henrik, who was standing against the wall trying to comprehend everything, suddenly stood at attention. “This way.”

He led them all down a few halls, slow enough that Jackie and Marvin could keep up, until they reached the morgue. “But Marvin- his vital organs are long dead. How can you-“

“Shush. Lemme work.” Marvin smiled confidently. He approached Chase’s body bag. “Chase, do I have your permission to try a little experiment? This is my first time trying to bring anyone back from the dead.”

“Of course you dummy.” Chase responded from the other side of the table.

“Follow my lead.” He commanded again, closing his eyes and resting his hands lightly on the bag. He started saying an unfamiliar spell, with a hint of melody to it. The other three brothers watched in wonder as an orange light flooded the room for a moment, surrounding Marvin’s silhouette. The light faded as Marvin finished and his arms fell to his sides.

“Oh dear-“ he managed to say before he collapsed again, falling unconscious. Even though he was still recovering, Jackie’s quick reflexes kicked in and he caught Marvin.

There was a cough from the body bag on the table and a muffled voice came from within. “Yo can someone open the bag? It smells bad in here.”

Henrik rushed over and unzipped the body bag and Chase sat up and stretched. Henrik watched in wonder as the previously blue with death body was suddenly pink with life again. Chase looked down before looking at Henrik.

“Uh... got an extra gown around?”

Jamie let out a silent giggle and Henrik tossed a hospital gown at Chase, who quickly put it on. He flexed his fingers, a smile spreading across his face, happy to be completely solid again.

“Ok someone want to tell me what the F*** happened?!?” Henrik finally released the confusion that was building up in him.

Chase looked up at him then down where Jackie sat with the unconscious Marvin. “Yeah, I’ll explain everything. Although it’d probably be a better idea to talk in your office.”

[thepriceisrizzoli]

not people

Filling a prompt from socks-lost about wanting to see Maura struggle with a panic attack after Killer in High Heels.

The tile feels cool on Maura’s forehead. 

Normally, she would shudder at the thought of the petri dish jungles that would grow as a result of a bacterial swab of this tile. But all that matters right now is that its coolness feels a little bit soothing.

What’s the event, even? Something for charity, but which? It doesn’t matter. These functions are all the same. Polite small talk, pledge money, move on. Manageable. She’s been doing it all her life.

Then her eyes had settled on the glass in her hand, and she couldn’t remember for certain who she’d accepted it from, or what might be in it, or if she’d already sipped any of it. 

And then suddenly, there were too many unknowns. Too much sensory input to cope with. Too many strange faces, and the backs of heads were almost worse. Too many people, too close, too loud. Every conversation in the room blending into one overwhelming drone. A dozen different perfumes and colognes choking her. Even the seams of her dress seemed to shrink, digging into her skin and restricting her breathing.

She really hopes she hadn’t made a scene on her way to the restroom. It wasn’t empty, and holding herself together for the extra thirteen steps it took to reach the privacy of this end stall was almost more than she could bear. The tears had burst from her before she even turned around to lock the door, quickly ruining the makeup she promised herself she wouldn’t have to reapply.

If only she could disappear without having to speak to anyone or be seen by anyone. Just blink and magically be at home. She feels pathetic and afraid and helpless in this little cell, which is as much like a cage as it is like temporary safety from the entire world. Though initially a relief, the solitude is now ringing in her ears as loudly as the cacophony of the crowd had. 

It’s only after a few breaths that she realizes part of that cacophony she had fled was Jane saying her name.

Jane is out there. Her plus one. Totally out of her element and only here to be supportive. She has every right to come bursting in here, complaining about being left stranded out there in a dress she hates, with a bunch of stuffy strangers, at a function she has no interest in.

Fresh tears spill at the realization that she’ll have no emotional energy to deal with that. Maura had run into this bathroom like a scared little animal looking for a crevice to crawl into, and if Jane reaches a hand in after her, she doesn’t know what she might do except shut down, or maybe bite.

The hand dryer goes off, exposing the sharpness of her breathing to the echoing quiet. She covers her mouth, eyes stinging and lungs burning from trying to silence her sobs. Over by the sinks a couple of younger women laugh, and even though she knows it’s not about her, somehow it sounds like it is. 

Door hinges. Maura recognizes the new set of footsteps even in the dialect of heel clicks instead of their native boot stomps. Then there they are in the little gap under the door: the sage almond pumps she picked out with Jane forty hours earlier, just to match a dress she’ll never wear a second time.

She braces.

“Maura?”

"Hm,” is all she can say without revealing her state.

“You okay?” Jane sounds... gentle.

How nice lying must be. She could say yes and Jane would go away and this would be one step closer to being over.

“I jus-st need a minute.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, holding her breath, too close to having her little bubble breached.

“Okay.”

The shoes disappear. Somebody runs the dryer and she can breathe again.

A minute later, something wedges in the crack of the stall door. A piece of paper.

Unfolding reveals it as a torn off piece of the glossy program she was handed when she entered the event. Her tears slow as she tries to understand the words written on it.

If you want company but don’t want to say a word, text me 1.

Company but I don’t talk either - 2

Stand over here and keep the dryer running - 3

Immediate escort off the premises no questions asked - 4

You need to be alone - 5

Anything else - name it. I have your back.

She has to read it four times before absorbing it, but once she does, it’s like a light turns on. 

Panic told her she was all alone. It had her lumping Jane in with people.

There is some whining and teasing, yes. But when something serious is happening, there could be no one more ferociously on her side than Jane Rizzoli. She has it all. Cop authority. Friend comforts. Big sister powers. She’s her go-to for anything and everything.

Jane isn’t people. Jane is Jane.

She finds her phone in her purse.

1.  Send.

Feet reappear within fifteen seconds. There is no knock.

She unlatches the door, opening it to find a soft smile waiting. It makes her wonder how awful she must look.

Despite the premise of the text she just sent, the first thing she does is start rambling.

“I just don’t kn-now wh-   I don’t know! I don’t know.”

Giving up on expressing herself, she pushes into Jane’s arms instead, repeating herself uselessly.

Jane walks them a step into the stall and pushes the door shut with her elbow. “Okay,” she wraps her arms around Maura and leans a cheek on her head. “Okay.”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know who an-nyone is. I don’t-”

“You know me.”

Maura goes quiet, breathing hard. 

“Nobody’s here but you and me.” 

Jane's hand moves up and down her back. 

“You’re safe. I know it doesn’t feel okay, but it will be. We’ll just hang out here as long as it takes to feel more okay. And then we’ll go home. You don’t have to talk to a single person. Okay?”

Maura nods with a hiccupy sigh.

“Okay. Now just breathe with me.”

It takes time to realize that this isn’t a hug. It’s shaped like a hug, but a hug would’ve lasted just long enough to express sympathy, and this is not ending. This is a hold. And it makes her feel protected, and not alone. And it feels devastatingly good to just hide in and cry like there’s no time limit. Jane’s hands hold her securely, rubbing soft circles on her back. It helps calm her enough that when she opens her eyes again it’s almost a surprise to remember where they still are. If only it could continue this way, but at home instead of in a public bathroom stall.

She can’t tell how long they’ve been in there, but it’s probably been too long. Begrudgingly, she peels herself out of the embrace.

“Everything...  just..”

“Got cranked up to 11 all of a sudden?” Jane finishes quietly. “And all you wanna do is teleport home and curl up in a dark room and shut off.”

Maura heaves a sigh. “Yeah.”

"Let’s teleport.”

“Oh... I haven’t excused myself,” she realizes with a near-sob. “I didn’t say goodbye to our hosts.”

“I took care of it,” Jane shakes her head.

“What did you say?”

“I said something came up that required our attention and that you sent your appreciation and regrets and blah blah blah, it was fine. They think you left already. No one’s looking for you.”

Relief floods through her.

That’s why, come to think of it... Maura was in here for at least a few minutes on her own. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder why Jane hadn’t followed her immediately. She was out there smoothing over the situation, keeping anyone from following, making it less like a scene.

“Okay. Here’s the exit strategy: I’m gonna lead you out the door in full hockey gear. Anybody tries to talk to you, I body check them into the ice sculpture. It’ll be ladies screaming, monocles falling into champagne flutes-”

A laugh jumps from her throat, small but unexpected enough to come out sounding as much like a cough. Jane sounds pleased to have earned at least that.

Her actual suggestion is to bring the car around to the service exit, and then come back to escort her out.

After making the best of her face, Maura follows Jane out, letting herself be led by the hand. She feels like a small child being helped to cross a street, but somehow in this context it’s reassuring instead of condescending. 

She pushes through half a set of double doors, holding it open for her. 

The voice is immediate, and male. 

“Excuse me, ladies, but this area-”

“Boston police,” Jane barks without slowing or even altering their course, even though he is directly ahead of them. “Clear the exit.”

In her peripheral vision Maura can see the man - kitchen staff maybe - stepping aside, showing his palms in disinterested surrender. Not paid enough to stand in the way and be bulldozed. She notices how Jane is angling herself to block her from view as much as is casually possible as they move past.

She focuses on Jane’s shoulder blades, visible thanks to her updo and the low-ish back of the dress she’d talked her into. Imagining her instead in hockey gear almost brings a smile to Maura’s face.

Something about the safety of the car makes her start crying again, and to her relief, Jane simply lets her.

- - -

The next time she looks at the clock, it reads 12:41. 

She must have fallen asleep. She wants nothing more than to fall back asleep, but something is nagging at her... besides the fact that she’s fallen asleep in her makeup. 

It’s Jane. Jane protected her and drove her home, but she doesn’t recall saying a single word to her since they left that bathroom. No effort to be appreciative or even hospitable. Her only goal upon arriving home was tearing off that dress so she could finally breathe and crashing in bed just long enough to catch her breath.

Her eyes move across her bedroom, dimly lit by the light of her closet filtering through its slatted door.

Her dressing table. Her nightstand. Legs on the bed. 

Legs on the bed?

Jane is lying on the bed next to her.  Propped up halfway on pillows, and with hands folded neatly over her stomach, she looks more like she’s waiting than sleeping.

“Hey,” she says, and Maura jumps slightly even though her presence is not a surprise. Her nerves feel shredded.

“Sorry,” Jane adds quickly. “It’s just me. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone.”

Maura rubs her eyes. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Nah, that’s exactly what you needed.”

She feels more settled now, though exhausted and embarrassed... however with Jane here to look out for her, it’s not so terrible. Being that vulnerable in front of someone she trusts feels nice, in a way.

“Do you? Want to be alone?”

Apologetically excusing Jane is her first instinct, but she pauses. Going back to sleep sounds nice, but having Jane there sounds even nicer. Her presence is so calming.

“No.”

"’kay.” Jane sits up and pats a little folded pile on the foot of the bed. “I grabbed some pajamas for you.”

“I’m alread- oh,” glancing down, she realizes she was in such a hurry to get out of that dress that she never put anything else on, and is still just in underwear. Hopefully she was the one who pulled the bed sheet over herself. 

That’s what makes her check to see what Jane is wearing, if not still her dress from the benefit. She’s found one of the old tees and sweats of her own that are always stashed in Maura’s drawers.

"Let me go get you a glass of water,” Jane smirks.

Getting ready for bed gives Maura her second wind. That little crash helped recharge her at least to the point where she can think again - not necessarily a good thing - and now she doesn’t feel like trying to go directly to sleep.

They end up in their go-to place for processing: the couch. Side by side, they just sit in silence for a little while.

Earlier it was all just a tornado of raw data, but now she’s starting to be able to organize it and analyze what had happened. 

“I feel so ridiculous.” Her voice still sounds congested.

“You aren’t.”

“But there was no real threat at all. Am I that afraid of a dead man?”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

Jane doesn’t talk about Hoyt that much, but Maura knows that’s what she means.

Neither of them really fear dead men. What they fear is that those men weren’t unique. There are more of them in the world - it’s a statistical certainty. There’s just no way of knowing which they are. 

That’s where she’d lost it at the benefit tonight. All those smiling faces, each one Schrödinger’s acquaintance. Simultaneously a pleasant conversationalist and potential catastrophic threat to her safety, her sanity, her life. 

“I keep doing the math. The number of new people I tend to encounter in an average work week - the prevalence of violent crime and psychopathy and-”

“Hey,” Jane says, shushing softly. “I know, but we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Maura allows herself to lean to the side when pulled, and Jane shifts enough to put her chin on top of Maura’s head. It feels warm and safe and reassuring, like the way puppies must feel when they sleep all together in a pile.

“You’re home. You’re safe. You don’t have to think about anything else.”

She closes her eyes, but something is keeping her from totally relaxing. Jane must think she’s much worse off than she is, and to not correct her feels kind of deceptive.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“I know you don’t like hugging people. I’m not in danger. I’m not in distress anymore... I just like the company.”

She feels a little breath come out of Jane’s chest, like that had been amusing.

“You’re not people.”

Well... in that case, maybe it’s okay to wrap her other arm around Jane’s waist and relax against her. She does, and Jane retaliates with what she’s at least ninety-six percent sure was a kiss on the top of her head.

It gives her a thousand additional questions, but those can be answered later. Right now the important thing is that everything feels safe. And this hug - no, hold - is lasting so long that the only way she can even tell Jane’s awake is the little intermittent back-and-forth thumb near her shoulder.

She's falling asleep on the couch. On Jane. 

She does absolutely nothing about it.

[justjessame]

If Only Someone Looked At Me Like They Look At Guns 10

I contemplated rushing back up the stairs while their backs were still to me, but that last step squeaked, just as I turned. Fuck. I closed my eyes, hoping no one heard, after all they were locked in an embrace with their mom.

“Tessa.” My name, in unison again. Damn it. “Darlin’ dat you?” Connor finished.

I opened my eyes and wished that I’d had the forethought to throw on a robe over the tight nightgown I was wearing. Once they focused on ALL of me, they’d know. Shit. “Connor,” I turned around and felt my breath leave me. “Murphy.” My face crumpled and I felt so overcome with emotions that I sobbed. Damn hormones.

They rushed forward and wrapped their arms around me. Hushing me, clearly too worried about my sudden outburst than me clearly visible bump, they held me and kissed my hair. Their scent was all around me, cigarettes and that soapy smell, but then it was overwhelming and I pulled harshly away and ran to the bathroom. The vomit spewed from me as soon as I had the toilet seat up. I felt them behind me and couldn’t even find it in me to care. This was all due to their demon spawn after all.

“Tessa?” Murphy whispered, the worry heavy in his voice.

“Yer ok?” Connor asked, his brother’s worry reflected in his own tone.

Once everything was gone, and I mean everything, I flushed the toilet and rose to my feet. Moving to the sink, I grabbed the toothbrush that had a sister in every available room in the house. Carefully brushing my teeth, I waited them out. I felt them leave the doorway and sighed, spitting the toothpaste out and rinsing my mouth. It was time for a pep talk to the MacManus nightmares I was carrying.

“Listen up, kiddos, your daddies are home.” I whispered, cradling my small bump in my hands. “So calm the fuck down, would ya?”

I could hear them talking to their mother as I left the bathroom. I hovered out of sight, wanting to be a coward and let Annabelle tell them. “It’s ‘er secret ter tell.” I heard the woman I’d come to love telling them. Damn it, she wasn’t going to throw me a bone. “She’ll tell ya when she wants ter.”

I stepped out from my hiding spot. My arms were crossed over my chest, which was growing almost as rapidly as my bump. “I didn’t get the heads up you were heading home.” I said, breaking up the clearly tense atmosphere in the kitchen. I noticed that Annabelle had made me a cup of green tea, she knew that it helped after one of my episodes.

“Couldn tell ya.” Connor said, as I took my seat at the table.

“Couldn tell anyone.” Murphy agreed, sitting in the chair to my right. Connor took the one at my left and Annabelle sat across from me. “Are ya sick, Tess?”

I chuckled, and glanced at Annabelle who was smiling back at me. “Only sometimes.” I answered, waiting to see how truly unobservant the two of them were. “Just when something is too smelly to deal with.” Annabelle laughed at that one.

“Mudder,” Connor admonished. “Tisn’t funny. She should see a doctor.”

Now I laughed, hard. “I have.” I answered, and looked up to see the two of them staring at me like they had when I was delirious from exhaustion. “Don’t worry, it’ll pass in about five months.” Annabelle caught my eye and we shared another fit of giggles.

“Damn it, women.” Connor growled, glaring between us.

Murphy’s glare came next. “Dis isn’t funny.”

I took one of each of their hands in mine. “No, it isn’t.” I agreed, sobering.

“Naught at all,” Annabelle agreed, taking their other hands in hers.

I looked at her and she gave me a nod. “I’m pregnant, boys.” They paled, the both of them, and I was worried for a moment that they’d faint. Annabelle shook her head at me and I could tell that she wanted me to wait.

“Pregnant?” They breathed together.

“Tessa,” Connor whispered, clutching at my hand.

“Is it only da one?” Murphy finished, drawing my attention back to him.

I shook my head and their hands tightened on mine and I imagine their mom’s. “Twins.” I answered as their focus held on me.

Annabelle released their hands and stood. “‘M goin’ ta bed.” She announced and kissed each of us on the head as she passed. “‘Ave a good night.” And she chuckled as she made her way to her room.

“Let’s get ya ready fer bed, Tessa.” Murphy said, voice thick.

“I’ll jus lock up.” Connor answered, moving to the door.

Murphy tugged me to my feet and finally gazed on the obvious bump. Before he could take me upstairs, his hands fell to my bump. And then he was kneeling in front of me, tugging up my nightshirt, and kissing the swell. Connor had come back and joined him in kneeling before me. His hands replaced Murphy’s and then his lips were kissing the bump.

“Our babies.” Murphy whispered, rising to his feet and finally kissing me.

“Aye,” Connor agreed, standing on the other side of me and asking for his own kiss. “My tern, Tessa.” He whispered, kissing me softly.

“Ah, Tess, we’ve missed ya.” Murphy’s voice, quiet and low, the heat of it against my shoulder. And it was just like that first night with them, only this time, they carried me together upstairs and into OUR room.

THE NEXT MORNING

“Dese beds are smaller dan I remember.” Connor groaned, clutching me to him, back to his front as always.

I giggled as Murphy glared at the sunlight shining in the windows. “‘Nd de curtains don do shit against da sun.”

Another round of giggles bubbled from me as Murphy’s skin pressed against my front. “You two are ridiculous.” I said, kissing Murphy then Connor. “You’re free, and we’ve put two beds together to make this one, the sun’s shining because you’re home. Stop bitching.” I sat up and felt the two of them follow suit. I was naked. Of course I was, since they were home, clothing would become redundant in our bedroom.

After many kisses, a fight over the shower (between them, not me, of course), throwing on clothes, I made my way downstairs. Annabelle was cooking, I could hear it so I stopped on the stairs.

“Do nah worry, tis all babe approved food.” She shouted, hearing that damn stair moan no doubt. I laughed and joined her. “Dose babes disappoint der nanna.” She gave a mock glare at my bump.

“I’m sure once they’re here, they’ll love the local cuisine.” I said, smoothing her fears. “For now, they’re inside me, and since I’m not a fan-”

She rolled her eyes at me and chuckled. Handing me a cup of tea, she glanced upwards. “Where are dem lads o’ mine?” She asked, then eyes twinkling she looked down at me. “Wear ‘em out did ya?”

I choked on my sip of tea. Sputtering and hearing her laugh, I cleaned up the mess I made. “You are incorrigible.” I accused, and smirked at her. “And, no I didn’t. I’m an expectant mother, haven’t you noticed?”

“Aye, and ‘ow’d yer become one?” She shot back. “Gonna ‘aveta buy some earplugs.” She shook her head and I felt my blush burn. “Dere it is. Knew I’d get one outta ya.”

I shook my head with restrained laughter. “You’re terrible. Honestly, Annabelle!”

“Wat’s goin’ on in ‘ere?” Connor asked, finished his hard one first shower I saw.

“Your mother is terrorizing me.” I tattled, feeling the heat of his body against the back of my chair. His hands were on my shoulders, and I tilted my head back and his lips met mine. “She’s insinuating that we were loud last night.” I said when he pulled away.

“Dat wasn’t us.” Murphy offered, coming into the room moments after his brother and kneeling at my right to get his own kiss.

I looked up at Annabelle in triumph, until the two of them threw me under the bus. “Dat was ‘er, Mudder.” They were pointing at me. The assholes. My triumph shot low, I pinched my lips as the laughter finally took over me.

“You all suck.” I said, drinking my now tepid tea. “First the babies that hate the smell of EVERYTHING.” I glared briefly at my stomach. “ Then a grandma who mocks a poor first time mother.” I shook my head at Annabelle. “And the fathers? Don’t get me started.” I said as the two of them took their seats at the table.

“Don be like dat,” Murphy said, taking my hand.

Connor took the other. “Dat’s right. We love ya.”

“We all love ya,” Annabelle interjected, filling plates with the food she’d made. “Even if ya ‘ave da taste buds of a wee babe.” She smiled down at me.

“I know,” I said, smiling at all of them. “But the hormones, ugh.” I ran my hand over my bump. “I never know what’s going to make me laugh, what’s going to make me cry, and what’s going to make me throw up.”

“We’re ‘ere now, Tess.” Connor reminded me.

“Yer not alone,” Murphy gave me their promise.

Annabelle snorted. “And wha was I?” She asked, giving each of us a plate. “She weren’t alone before, ya ninnies.” She sat with her own. “She needs comfortin’. She needs less worry.” She shot pointed looks at her sons. “She needs ter know yer nah ‘eadin’ back ter the life.”

I felt the two of them talking to one another and so did she. She held my focus as they discussed their next steps.

Murphy and Connor sighed. “We only got released cause of Smecker.” Connor admitted.

“‘E made good on keepin’ us on da outside.” Murphy agreed.

I nodded, of course, I’d read about Smecker. He was their help on the inside. An FBI agent who kept them free before. I’d thought he’d died. “I understand,” I whispered, biting into my toast.

“No, ya don.” Murphy answered. Shaking his head and forcing me and his mother to keep our attention on the twins.

“‘Da deal is we gotta keep workin’, but not for a bit.” Connor replied, taking a bite of his own food.

Murphy smiled, reassuring me. “Las time took eight years to get us back.”

That was true, I thought. It was what brought them into my life. I felt Connor’s hand on mine again.

“We’re ‘ere, and we plan on bein’ ‘ere fer dem.” He gestured to my bump. “And fer ya.”

Annabelle nodded, clearly approving of this new plan for our lives. She glanced at the clock. “Tessa? Do ya work today?” It was growing close for my usual time.

I shook my head. “No, the owner saw how active the babies were yesterday and gave me today off.” I smiled at how kind the people were here. “He said to let him know if I need more.”

The boys were watching us. “Ya could quit now.” Connor offered.

I smiled. “I don’t have to work at all, Connor.” I remembered the more than fair price I’d gotten for my store, and the ease of selling off other non-essentials. I had more cash than I needed for some time.

“So why are ya?” Murphy asked, eating his own breakfast, but as laser focused as his brother.

“Been askin’ ‘er the same ting since she started.” Annabelle offered. I rolled my eyes at the three of them.

“I like to work.” I said, shaking my head. “It gets me out and around people.”

“Tis gettin’ harder tho, isn’t it?” Connor asked, his hand still holding mine.

I sighed, yes, it was. And I wasn’t even halfway through my pregnancy. “What would I do if I didn’t work?” I asked, glancing at the three of them.

“Could find us a house.” Murphy replied, shrugging his shoulder.

“Den yer could spend da time fixin’ it fer da babies.” Annabelle agreed, clearly warming to the idea.

“A place nearby, but wit more room.” Connor offered, and I was thinking they’d been discussing this without me, but when?

I sat back, and studied the three of them. “Where is it?” I knew that they’d come up with this together, maybe not with the knowledge of my pregnancy, but definitely a set up.

“Where’s what?” Connor asked too innocently to be believable.

I raised an eyebrow and Murphy soothed me with his confession. Truly my favorite twin. “We jus thot when we got out, dat we’d want our own place wit ya.”

I shook my head and chuckled. I was adding two more to this family of goofballs. “So?” I asked, “Where is it?”

“Go get dressed,” Connor replied with a smile.

“We’ll take ya when yer ready.” Annabelle agreed with her own grin.

[honeychilialligator]

The Comfort of Strangers

Gabe's POV

The first time I saw her, it was a Saturday - most likely in the middle of September, nine months ago in a public library, four blocks away from the building that I once inhabited.

Of all things to note, the initial thing that would flash was the day - always the same day. She probably wore an average sweater, and dark skinny jeans - a style I eventually noticed. And even without the glasses, I always remembered her even back then as nerdy, introverted and of course, bookish.

It was a school research that motivated me to visit such a weary place that I couldn't imagine ever stopping-over - not because I was allergic to studying (if anything, I don't mind reading books) but because the place in itself was a bore to look at. The library was Egypt's pyramid. Historical. Old. Ancient. Pick your term. There's a helpful thesaurus inside to help you in such a predicament.

Then again, the same reason has urged me to step inside the old-fashioned site. Mr. Lanburton (not sure if I spelled his name accurately), our history teacher, had loaded us a big stack of dreadful tasks to fulfill at the end of the weekend. Surprisingly so, my memory has reclaimed the thoughts of my heavy homework, to which my class was asked to recollect important historical terms of a long list of nearby places in the vicinity of our humble locale.

It was also the first time my best friend, Google, has disappointed me terribly for failing to deliver an automatic answer to my difficulties (Apparently it was not one of those "God bless the internet" days). Unfortunately our locality and its small populace were a little unfit for specific and in-depth information about what Mr. Lanburton had required.

As tempting as it was to abandon the task at hand, my grades in that semester was not as cooperative. It took me a week to recover on an illness that got me hospitalized for days and the teachers were not very considerate. The only option left for me was to take the route to the oldest public library in town and start a customary way of active research.

The heavy creak brought from the antique wooden door entrance unsurprisingly attracted too much attention in an almost-deserted library. I met her stare as she lifted her gaze - our first contact. Yet at that moment it seemed so ordinary - so unappreciated. I couldn't recall clearly what book she was reading or how she looked at me, no matter how hard I try, but I guess that's just how I will always remember her: the girl who always has her face trained on books in the old library.

At the end of the day I was happy for having the task lifted off of my shoulders three days before the original submission, and I also recalled that my parents treated me and my four-year old little sister in an expensive restaurant outside town. My mother bought me a black jacket that I remembered wearing the next day. That specific Saturday was special in ways that I could only fully realize now.

Visits to the library were followed by more when our history teacher realized how effective it was (for him) to leave advanced schoolwork for a progressive study on our next topics. More items were given that I had to reserve extra time to the library to fulfill the task every week. The second and third time I stayed in the public library, I sat three chairs away from her and maintained the same position for the week because it was nearest to the air conditioner and I was rather comfortable. The quiet girl maintained hers just the same. Each time we were near each other I was more intrigued about the novels she was reading and how she seemed to be unfazed to her dusty surroundings with a different book each time I came. By my fifth visit, I was able to comprehend a clearer assessment on her features when I snuck in a slight glance.

Evergreen - like spring. That's how I remembered her full bright eyes. It seemed enchanting now the more I think about it, as only a few people could possess such unique detail. Her cheeks are always flushed - it must have something to do with the cold atmosphere (but later, I realized she was always like that). Her slightly-curly hazel brown hair, she always secured in a careless bun. It was curiosity that compelled me to her - a teenage girl my age who would just spend most of her time reading classic novels in the stinky dinosaur-age public library instead of going shopping or doing whatever sassy teenage girls do. Does she even go to school? Is she constantly alone if she doesn't have anyone to hang-out with? Where does she live anyway? What's in these books -these novels that got her hooked in this place? Why can't she just borrow them and bring them home to read? Why here where everything is so grubby and old, I have to stop myself from sneezing when I get too close on a dictionary?

It started as a thought, which intrigued me, and then it changed into a deep curiosity that later became a sudden interest. She was not from my university, that's for sure. I would have known. I never bothered to ask because I was uncertain on her response. It was not my forte, conversing with the opposite gender. Back then I had a mental overview on how my conversation with her would be like. I just couldn't gather enough courage to start even a casual conversation.

Scanning through old textbooks, I'd sneak in a little look at her - I don't know why I did - I always felt like even through her solemn focus on the material she was reading, I've always imagined her noticing every slight glance I pass on to her. Having her around three chairs away from me every Saturday afternoon in the library eventually turned into something natural - like a schoolmate a table away from me in our usual place in the cafeteria. Without even speaking, I guess our positions were a mutual contract. Without even knowing it, my visits and these weekly tasks no longer bothered me as much as it did at first.

Finally, I devised a plan to get her attention (it didn't sound as creepy when I thought about it before). This peculiar bookworm returns the books to its shelf and leaves the place fifteen minutes less before I could finish my research homework. On a particular Saturday in October, I took notice of the exact bookshelf location she left her novel before she stepped out of the library. Coincidentally Mr. Lanburton was kind enough to lessen our burden with simple common terms to hunt and I was able to finish the task earlier than most. I took the book out of the bookshelf five minutes after she left. I tried considering asking the elderly librarian about the name of the girl (surely she knew about her only customer in ghost town's library) but for some reason I didn't pursue it.

The moment I glanced at the cover of the book I remembered thinking: "Nicholas Sparks. Well what do you know? I guess she is a romantic at heart."

"The Choice" by Nicholas Sparks.

Reading the synopsis was my last pull to borrowing the book and bringing it home. Alas, I have also read some of his passionate collections but it was my first to encounter this specific book. I started reading that night - continued and finished it the next day. It was compelling and I was hooked. I thought about how she could be feeling the same emotions that I was sensing as I read through Spark's masterpiece, and when I am overcome with extreme emotions in the climax of the plot, I remembered how I caught her wrinkle her nose as she read through all those literary pieces as if she was dismayed by the outcome, or how a trace of a smile would form on her delicate lips for a moment at the remaining pages of her novels; all the emotions rushing out of her when she reads - I realize how she understood all kinds of sentiments organized by the author or how she paints the characters out of her beautiful imagination.

For a regular guy who sees life as a featureless routine, she was remarkable.

The next Saturday, there were no tasks to accomplish, but I returned the book to the library. When I arrived, the girl was already sitting with a different (probably about another romance) book on our usual table as I had expected. I felt her eyes follow me when I returned the book that she read. After doing so, I returned to my usual chair, took a random book on her usual bookshelf and pretended to read it - hoping she would notice me again.

The bookworm cleared her throat. Twice (in the first, I was a little too overwhelmed to hear her). "Excuse me."

"Yes?" I must have smiled like a fool back then.

"Hi," she started nervously. "I just couldn't help wondering: what genre do you usually prefer? I mean if you don't mind." Wait, British accent?

The question initially confused me, but it made me more than glad to hear her talk. I answered her in way that might have ineffectually and failingly conceal my tense and awkward self. "I-I guess I'm more into Action, Sci-Fi. Those kinds of stuff." (Not really). "And probably a little romance would do." (A guy reading a romance novel? Can't you get any weirder? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid).

"I see," she spoke out the words slowly. "Action, huh? Specifically of Sylvia Day's?"

Her tone had demanded to alert me, as I saw her look curiously on the book on my hand. I quickly turned to the cover.

"Bared to You" by Sylvia Day.

Oh.

I slammed the book shut, not daring to behold a scene of its twisted plot. Funny, how I must have looked like to her: A perverted little maniac.

That's when I heard her laugh. I was unprepared for my reaction to the most potent weapon this girl had in her arsenal - a real genuine laugh that reverberated from inside her. It was too infectious for me to resist, and on an unguarded instant, I joined in.

Of course, the librarian shushed us out of it.

"I'm sorry," she blushed - adding more color to her flushed face, and apologized to the wrinkly old librarian.

"Look, I wasn't really reading it, I mean - "(What am I getting myself into?) "I was just scan- " The girl stifled a laugh. "I didn't mean it like that, I was just...just..."(Seriously dude, stop embarrassing yourself!)

"I'm Eveline," she offered, a bright and foreign (but genuine) smile on her face and an extended hand. "You are?"

A for being attentive. I just couldn't stop embarrassing myself, could I?

"Gabriel, 'Gabe' for short" I shook her soft, dainty hand. "Nice to (finally) meet you."

"Sorry if I disturbed you." Another short laugh.

"It's fine. I wasn't really reading it," I shrugged.

"I can tell," Eveline smiled - a sparkle on her emerald eyes. "I mean I noticed you were so out of it. I didn't mean to appear so despicable."

"It's okay, really. I don't usually read novels - especially this kind."

"You're usually on research and textbooks," she added gently, and I couldn't help but grin at the thought of her noticing me.

"Schoolwork," I supplied. "My history teacher keeps giving us a big load of homework every weekend."

"Ah, I see," she nodded in understanding. I waited for her to elaborate about her high school life or at least relate to me how her history teacher could be the same terror professor, but she didn't and our conversation fell short.

"Are you always hanging around here?" I probed further.

"Only on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays," Eve caught a stray hair and pushed it on her ear.

"Always on the same schedule?"

She nodded cheekily, "Yeah."

Her enigmatic stance put me in place and I decided not to push my luck on her privacy. "Cool."

I looked at my wristwatch and realized that I was late for my sister's little rehearsal, knowing I had to pick her up after. "It was really great to see you, but I'm done with my work here and I need to fetch my sister out of ballet class." As much as I still want to hang around...

"I understand."

"So, next Saturday then?" I said a little too hopefully.

"Of course," she smiled her gentle smile.

That night I lay on my cozy bed thinking about our hilarious - though a little ungainly, dialogue. Eveline. Witty, cute, and bashful Eveline. Even when I decided to shut my eyes, I could see a picture of her perky face in her natural glow and hear the sound of her symphonic laugh. Since that day, thoughts of her became a frequent visitor and Saturday wasn't just any ordinary Saturday. Like a refreshing holiday, I was looking forward to it.

On our next meeting, I wore a navy sweatshirt and khaki shorts - turning my charm on like a light switch untouched for decades. I smiled brightly even before I could enter the library, wanting to match hers and hoping she'd return it. Eveline would be inside, reading a romantic novel, and I hope my smile would greet her. She was still selecting a book when I came in; her face lit up as she mouthed "Hello."

Instead of going my way to proceed on my research, I watched her pick a book or two in the shelf before taking my own set of textbooks to copy information. As I derived coherent notes on my notebook, I clucked my tongue twice in a playful way of getting her attention. From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance to my direction but I pretended to be so focused on my homework. I repeated it again, louder this time to also get the old librarian's awareness. The withered old woman looked around and turned on our table, confused at my mock innocence. She shrugged a little and went back on arranging the filthy pile of old archives. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eveline smile in amusement even without her looking at me.

I purposely sped up taking down notes for research in order to catch up on Eveline on her way home. I asked permission to accompany her and I was happy that she was fine with it. She owned an average bike for transportation and her street was 2 miles away from mine. I offered to guide her bike as a friendly gesture while we talk a little until we reached my apartment building.

"You're not as behaved as I thought you are," she teased lightly.

"You mean what I did to that librarian? Well at least she has someone to watch over. A little hobby might get her rusty old brain working a little," I winked and she laughed.

We shared jokes even though they were mostly mine. I enjoyed making her laugh and smile. I began talking about myself when we started sobering up; about my family, high school, my hunky best friend named Kevin, and my favorite sport, tennis. I casually asked her about her own share of the bargain and I was more than pleased to hear her describe a little more about herself. Financial problems had caused a temporary break for her education when her father was dropped out on his business firm. She didn't talk about her plans for the future which seemed odd when I think about how much I disclosed my desired career as an architect, but I still marveled at the way she talks about her present and how she sees her life like a ready canvass. She loved her parents dearly even if they couldn't give her siblings to take care of. Eveline had a little pet dog named Sponge, and he was her only best friend.

Little facts added to my little biography of her, and each Saturday I was determined to get closer to her as I know she was a keeper for a friend. It turned into a fantastic innocent habit. When Saturday comes, I'd still stay on my usual distance and she'd read books peacefully. I'd cluck my tongue like a little check-up call and she'd smile. We'd pretend we didn't hear anything when the librarian gets irritated, and we'd squeeze ourselves to hide a laugh. But still I was afraid of annoying her on her reading with my behavior so I'd stop and sneak glances at her instead. Overtime she started whistling, a sign that she wasn't bothered about my tongue-clucking at all. The first time she tried her 'notorious' act and the librarian glared at me accusingly, I bit my tongue so bad to conceal a hideous laughter and my stomach was aching, it was so hard to breath. On our journey home, I was able to make her play "20 questions" where we take turns in interrogations about ourselves. Each new detail was a new color to add to cluster of feathers she blooms each day.

By the time we agreed to meet up on days besides Saturday, I had nicknamed her "Eve" even when her mother calls her "Lynn". On our first "friendly" date, I took her to a little café and treated her with chocolate cake that she told me was her favorite. I bought her "Papertowns", a novel written by John Green, and she was so happy and giddy that Eve kissed me tenderly on the cheek; I wasn't able to hold a blush.

Even though I was afraid to admit it, when I was with her, it seemed it was worth doing all those normal things that normal people do.

She was amazing in ways that I couldn't describe. Eve could make simple seem complex. Everything about her had a deeper sense of sentimental value. There are certain ways only she can do that could make me immeasurably happy.

Eve had suggested I meet up with her on a night of meteor showers last December. It had been my dream rendezvous. As we sat there stargazing, I had took the book that we both loved from my sling bag, "The Choice" and read a little excerpt of Nicholas Sparks, one that I intended with meaning.

"It was inevitable for people to try to create a sense of normalcy in a place where nothing was normal. It helped one get through the day, to add predictability to a life that was inherently unpredictable."

She had listened with her eyes closed, lying on the evergreen grass that sent a neon glow to her emerald eyes.

"You've been quoting my books," Eve grinned, after a long moment of observing the distant, twinkling stars.

"Sadly, you've miraculously turned me into a bookworm like you," I sighed melodramatically.

"Well I never forced you to read them," she smiled.

"But there was no other way of getting your attention," I pouted, playfully.

"There was, you're just too dumb to try it," Eve laughed.

"Name one."

"I don't know, how about just a casual 'hi!'" she muttered sarcastically and I rolled my eyes. "You could also have tried asking me what I was reading. Did I appear that stiff to you?"

"To be honest, yeah" I said teasingly.

"Dud!"

"Nerd!"

Tickle fights are the usual aftermath of our casual bullying. How we managed to get that close so fast? I have no idea.

So yeah, we rolled off our butts in the prickly grass like it was no one's business. And after we finished laughing like hyenas and sobered up, we just lied there peacefully under the stars.

"Well I'm glad you did it," she suddenly brought up.

"Did what?"

"Read the book I mean," Eve chuckled.

"How come?" I arched an eyebrow.

"I guess there was no better way to get me to trust you." (She was serious, by the way.)

"Yeah, right" I smiled. "Starting a book club, eh?"

"You're my first member," she joked and we both laughed.

"You've put me in a lot of effort for just a simple conversation," I whispered.

"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy, remember that," she quoted a memorized sentence from the book that started it all.

It was her own happiness that did the trick: in her brilliant smile, in her adorable pout, or in the way she smudges ice cream all over her mouth, or how she falls asleep with her lips slightly apart, or how she seems so vulnerable and honest and kind that it would be a difficulty to stop the urge to wrap her in your arms and protect her. She was heavenly, but earthly in that amazingly complicated way.

Yes, indeed. I, Gabriel Felix, a plain average teenage boy who couldn't appear normal and comfortable with teenage girls, was falling in love with a bookworm. At that time when I came to terms with my little crush, I surrendered and didn't fight back. I didn't have anything to lose except for our strong bond and resilient friendship (that I couldn't imagine ever giving up). But knowing Eve, I knew it wouldn't take long for her to figure out about what I really felt. Being in love, I comprehended, was not about being concerned if she could ever accept your feelings and affections. It's more engrossed on ensuring the happiness of your loved one above yours, even if that took you out of the equation.

Every time I have these insecurities in my mind when I think about confessing, I replay all the moments we spend together inside or outside the library. The way she smiled made me feel like it was mutual, and I know I had to try; Eve was worth it.

So I decided to express my intense emotions towards her on our next meeting next Saturday, in the place where it all began - our sanctuary.

That morning I put on my favorite black jacket, and styled my raven black hair with gel. In the bathroom while having my shower, there was nothing else in my mind but on what to say and how to express it without her running out the door. I was nervous even though I've made up my mind.

I read through my lines and my cheesy quotes (obviously it's from the same book), knowing she'd appreciate it. I slipped further into my own fantasies, understanding that there was a big chance of rejection, but all I cared about was being close to her, keeping her. I wanted so badly to keep her.

By then I knew, the moment I stepped inside the public library - as I saw her empty chair, that a love like this was too good to be true.

When I arrived at her address, I asked around for her and she wasn't home - none of her family was. None of her neighbors knew where they went. I went to random places - anywhere where hope could blossom. I tried the café, Borders (her favorite bookstore), the central park, but I was chasing fiction.

I never felt more drained in my entire life the moment I reached home. I attempted to call her number but only voice message replied.

Days passed, and Eveline still remained as a haunting mystery. I didn't break my visits to the library even though it was already summer vacation - hoping she'd show up with her dazzling smile on a sweater shirt and black jeans and explain how she disappeared and I'd forgive her, then she'd reassure me that she'd stay.

I've had my heart broken by love songs and I've had my own share of repetitive and agonizing travels to memory lane. Theories crossed my mind but it was worthless when there is no evidence to support them. Five times - I think - did I visit her house, only to find it empty once again.

"Do you ever do this, you think back on all the times you've had with someone and you just replay it in your head over and over again and you look for those first signs of trouble?"

Why, Nicholas, are you a psychic?

Months passed; each day was a struggle on moving on - on filling this void in my chest whenever I see her empty chair on lonely Saturdays.

My own copy of "The Choice" had been repeatedly thrown off the wall but I still had no perfect reason to hate her - even more in forgetting her. And in doing so, I've shunned myself in taking chances in romance. The harder I wanted to forget the more I kept remembering.

"But things change. People change. Change was one of the inevitable laws of nature, exacting its toll on people's lives. Mistakes are made, regrets form, and all that was left were repercussions that made something as simple as rising from the bed seem almost laborious."

I was able to memorize this stupid passage from that stupid book the day I had given up in waiting for Eve to come back. It seemed pitiful, but there were things you couldn't prevent from spilling. But then maybe I deserved this much for being too attached and for trusting too much on our "mutual" contract.

Unfortunately again for me, I didn't also deserve a "goodbye".

Time did its magic - no matter how slow. I've tried smiling again, and I went back on track with my priorities. On my next semester, I did better and passed every subject. I've tried playing sports like football and I was busier every day.

But still life has a way of proving you wrong. Three days ago, another research came up that needed public library help. The thought brought back unwanted memories that I've tried so hard to ignore but it can't be helped. At the same time, I dared myself to go through this like a test - to prove myself that I've really moved on.

So yesterday I took a step inside the ancient place, purposely in the same time that I practiced my past routine. The librarian regarded me with a look, as she bent down her spectacles to observe me. I tossed her a smile as if we were old acquaintances and I wasn't sure if she could still remember me in the way she returned my friendly greeting.

I took the same old World History textbook, and sat on my old place. Turning the pages, I was suddenly aware of the seat three chairs away from mine. I felt a familiar ache in my heart as I took down notes.

This was too much, I shouldn't have done this.

The price of going back through everything was not worth the pain. I closed the textbook wearily and decided to leave at once, when I heard it.

A whistle.

As if it was a sound of a bullet piercing through my ear, I turned around, perplexed and slightly hopeful.

The librarian was looking at me, her hand on her mouth and a smile on her pale and bony face.

"Made you turn," and she laughed (although it sounded more like a witch's cackle) "I knew that would do the trick." She motioned me towards her, and as the confused bloke as I was, I complied (It's not like she's harmful anyway).

"Your girlfriend," the librarian muttered. "She came here a week ago."

"She's not my girl - Say what?" I think my heart just did a somersault.

"Between you and me, who do you think is supposed to be deaf?" the old woman laughed, betraying her age. "She left something - inserted it on this book," she took "The Choice" (the book that I borrowed) out from the drawer. "You teenagers seriously need to remember that a library is not meant for -"

"Did she say anything?" I cut her off impatiently, taking the book from her wrinkled hand.

The now-annoyed librarian shook her head no.

I removed the little piece of paper from the pages of the book and read the note.

You probably didn't expect an apology from me after I left you alone without any explanation. You didn't deserve it and there is nothing I could say worthy of your forgiveness. You can crumple this paper or forget me - I'd accept all of it. But even after everything that I did to you, it would be such a shame to say that I did it all intentionally.

But here is my explanation: I was dying. My cancer was spreading and an operation could only result to a fast demise or a little chance of survival. From the start I meant to keep this from you - after all, who would have thought that a stranger like you would mean so much to me.

Everyday I wither in the pity of those around me, when all I really want is to do more than just breathe - I want to live. That's why I read lives that have happy endings, something I thought I was never granted to have. It was a torture I designed for myself. At that time all I really thought about was that since this cancer started controlling my life, all I am allowed to feel was pain.

I noticed you long before you borrowed the book. In all honesty, I was just as nervous to talk to you as you mentioned to me. I thought it was a game, really, on who can approach who first. And I lost when you did the irresistible: taking an erotic novel and pretending to read it with an expressionless innocent face. That little encounter started all the hilarious jokes and the little dates. There was nothing wrong about your questions and little interviews but forgive me if I am so reserved (Yes, the reason why I didn't choose to finish school was because of my condition). You'd never think of me as the same bookworm in the library if I told you all of my secrets - specifically about Leukemia.

But we started to hang-out and I let it all happen. There was nothing more refreshing than taking your guard off and having fun. I don't know what made me trust you- maybe it was because you don't look at me with pity, or the way you made me feel safe or that you built up some hope in me. You were a constant reminder of who I can't and never have. But you were there, three chairs away from me, so close yet so far. Ever since I started getting to know you, all I wanted was to close the distance.

So I made a gamble with myself, to give this one last chance, if that meant I'd have an opportunity to have a future with you, even if all we will ever end up is friends. And I accepted the operation, provided with the risks. I couldn't explain everything to you before I'd undergo operation. What's the point of worrying you over something you can't control especially if I'd just end up dead?

God answered my prayers, and I was saved. I got my second chance and all I want to do is spend it with you. But that's your choice. I'll be right here waiting where the heaven's cried.

Love,

E.

Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy. I know Eve.

I know.

[mashafootball]

Ju and his girlfriend argue over something ( disarray or something else unnecessary ) and then Julian has such a guilty conscience and apologizes to her 😌

Thank you everyone for writing me you can’t wait for another Ju imagine.  I suppose I won’t ask again in the future, haha? 

Feedback would be very much appreciated, if you have a request you can write me too!

Enjoy and please keep in mind English is not my first language! 

Moments - Julian Brandt Imagine

You couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh as you caught up on the tons of laundry, that has built up over the last two weeks in your apartment. Because of your exams your – normally very clean and polished – household has been a mess and after finishing the last exam that morning you finally found some time to catch up with all the work you had put aside for studying. 

As you were fishing through your boyfriend Julian’s t-shirts you started wondering where that boy actually was. Training had already finished, and he still hasn’t arrived at home. “When are you coming home? x” You texted him, setting your phone aside to continue with your laundry work. 

Before you had time to check your phone again, you already heard Julian unlocking the door to your flat. “Hi.”, you tiredly called out, folding some of his sweaters. “Hey.”, he shot you a quick smile as he dropped his training bag on the floor, “Could you maybe wash that? I kinda need that tomorrow.”, he asked, already tossing you his favorite black sweatshirt. At first you didn’t want to say anything, silently nodding and putting the sweatshirt in your laundry basket. “Did you cook anything babe?”

“Are you serious right now, Ju?”

“What? You know how hungry I always am after the afternoon-practice.”, he grinned, taking a seat on the sofa. “You know how busy I was with exams and maybe you can see – unless you are blind because of being absolutely selfish right now – I am currently busy, doing our laundry – that includes your stuff too!” Anger rushed through you as your boyfriend’s smile slowly faded. So, he noticed, you thought to yourself. 

“I’m going to the bathroom – to continue with our laundry and so I can wash your sweater, you are welcome by the way.”, you said standing up without glancing at him again, taking your laundry basket and strutting off into your shared bathroom. 

Locking the door behind you, you groaned, setting the full basket on the tiled floor. That wasn’t the first time Julian had made you angry because of kinda demanding ‘wifey-duties’ from you. Never have you ever thought about him being a sexist that demands a clean flat and a warm dinner every evening – he was more like: unbelievably, utterly, fu*king lazy and besides that the worst cleaner you ever had to witness. Julian could mistake a vacuum cleaner for a dishwasher, for real! But that didn’t stop your anger it that moment, you were fuming. He knew exactly how stressed you were the past few days because of your exams, and he had been a sweetheart about it. But all of a sudden, he seemed to have forgotten everything about that. 

Instead of concentrating even more on the reasons you were feeling mad because of now, you darted your attention to your laundry, speeding up the process and getting ready to move on to the next thing that had to be done in your apartment. 

After unlocking the bathroom door, you stayed silent for a few moments, hoping you could hear Julian from down the hallway, but it was absolutely silent in your apartment. He had probably left our flat after your fight, wandering off to one of his friend’s houses so he could complain about you acting all bit*hy and stuff. Not knowing where he went off to worried you a bit, but it was still light outside and you knew your boyfriend could handle himself. So, you went to the kitchen, starting to clean there. 

It took almost an hour until you finished up in your kitchen, getting ready to move on to your living room when you suddenly heard Julian’s keys opening the front door. You quickly rushed back into the kitchen, not wanting to make it seem you waited in the living room the whole time for his comeback – because you didn’t!

“Y/N?”, your boyfriend called out, sounding a little quieter than usually. “Y/N?”, he tried again before you hit him with a rude “What?”

“There you are.”, he replied, entering the kitchen not a second later. “Look. I’m sorry.”, he started, but stopped when he saw you upset expression. “Ok, don’t look at me like that.”, he begun to speak again, setting down the plastic bags in his hands that probably held Chinese takeout. “Come here.”, not saying another word he pulled you into his chest, silently stroking up and down your back, making you cry due to the fact that so much pressure was falling down from you in that moment. All the studying, worrying about failing an exam, scared of not being good enough. “I’m sorry, I acted like an idiot.”, Julian whispered in your ear, continuously stroking your back when he realized you really started to cry. 

“It was stupid of me to expect all these things from you, this is my flat too and even though you know how bad I am with housework, I will help you from now on…or we could get a cleaner to help us?”, he asked, bringing a little distance between your bodies so he could examine your face,  his thumb swiping across your cheek. “It isn’t like I’m overstrained because of household duties. I like cleaning, it gives me weird satisfaction, you know that. But sometimes it’s a bit too much and sometimes I feel like I have to do so many things at once, because living in a dirty flat is something I don’t wanna do and I also don’t wanna put you through that.”

“Please, don’t stress yourself so much because of cleaning. You know how this flat looked before you. moved here.”, this made you laugh a bit, because, well you remembered exactly how Julian’s flat used to look like when you sometimes came over unexpectedly when you first started dating each other. “Yes, I understand that now, sorry for being maybe a bit harsh.”, you mumbled into his sweater, fisting the fabric between your hands. “Tell me when you need help, tell me when you start cleaning so I can join, will you?”, even though you knew Julian wasn’t the most useful support while cleaning, you still nodded, promising him you would tell him from now on whenever you started doing chores now. 

“Is that Chinese takeout?”, you muttered after hugging his body for some more time, not being able to ignore the smell anymore. Julian’s face read a panicked expression when he quickly nodded, “I totally forgot about that, the food is probably cold now.”, he said. Shrugging your shoulders, you walked past him, grabbing two forks and knives, taking the white plastic bag with you into your living room. “I’m starving actually, I would eat anything right now.”, you sighed, plopping down onto your sofa. 

“Wait.”, the blonde boy said as he stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, “Are we good?”

“I think we are good.”, you assured him, patting the spot next to you on the sofa. You were way too tired for continuing your fight anyways and he properly apologized, so you were really good. He shot you his typical smirk when he walked over to where you were seated, pressing a light kiss against your head as he sat down next to you. 

After finishing your – kinda already cold – takeout, Julian took all the stuff into the kitchen, putting everything into the dishwasher. It really seemed like he took his statement quite literally, already rummaging through the kitchen (making annoying noises and not being that careful with anything – but still). “I don’t know how to start the dishwasher, but I put everything inside, maybe you could show me later?”, he asked, suddenly appearing in front of the couch again.

“Sure. But come here now.”, you said already holding your arms out like a monkey. “I feel like we didn’t do that enough the past few days.”, Julian sighed as he laid down on the couch, pulling you on top of him. “Same.”, you said listening to his heartbeat and closing your eyes for a moment. His strong arms pulled you even closer to his warm body, nose buried in your messy hair. “I think I heard the washing machine.”, you exclaimed, getting ready to pull yourself out of Julian’s grip.

“Don’t you dare to get up right now, we are having a moment.”, he grinned, not even thinking about letting you go. You chuckled, laying your head back on his chest and letting out a sigh. There were so many things you enjoyed doing with Julian, whether it was sing-offs in the car, getting coffee in the morning, sex, watching football together or just staying up till two am to talk about the most ridiculous stuff – you enjoyed almost everything with him, no matter how small it seemed, but cuddling was probably your favorite activity with your boyfriend. His body was always warm, even if he had just spent hours outside, his body always radiated heat. His hands were also always warm, except in moments he got really nervous, then it was your turn to warm his hands up.  You just loved cuddling into his chest, always feeling loved and safe while staying wrapped in his long arms, breathing in his scent and just forgetting about everything else for a while. 

Laying on the couch, your belly feeling full because of way too much Chinese takeout, you realized it was one of those moments where you were just too overwhelmed with your love and emotions you held for the blonde boy under you. Your relationship had come a long way, at first the two of you weren’t really hitting it on, but after a few months of dating each other you finally progressed into a relationship. While you weren’t really sure how all of this would end with his football player at the beginning of your relationship, you were sure how you wanted it to end now. Actually, never. 

“Are you asleep?”, his voiced asked softly after a while of you not saying anything. You slightly shook your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Sitting up straight a bit you looked down to his face, smiling because his dimple was showing. You plopped down again, trying to wrap your arms around his neck as good as possible. “Thanks for loving me.”, you whispered against his neck, pressing a kiss there. 

“That’s not really hard.”

{tags: @julianbrandtrelated @holybrandt }

[sybill-the-seer]

Saying Goodbye

I’ve been thinking about writing this scene for ages now, and I finally did it. I hope I didn’t miss any important details…I’m a little nervous about posting this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, even if it’s not totally perfect!

The October night was chilly, and Sirius shivered as he walked swiftly down the cobblestoned street leading to the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow.  He kept his head bowed low against the biting cold, his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck for warmth.  In his right hand, he held a bag of groceries.  Ever since James and Lily had gone into hiding, they had been forced to rely upon their closest friends to bring them (and their now 1-year-old son) food and necessities once a week.  Tonight was supposed to have been Peter’s turn, but Sirius had taken over for him after Peter had informed him that he wasn’t feeling well.  

“Just a cold,” he’d told him, after Sirius had asked about his Halloween plans.  “No need to worry about me; I’m just not sure I’m up to doing much tonight. In fact, I might put off the Potters’ delivery until tomorrow. They have enough from the last time we stopped by with things, I’m sure they’ll be fine for one more day.”  Peter had a nervous edge to his voice.  

“I don’t mind taking over delivery for tonight,” Sirius had replied.  “Where’s the stuff?  I can take it over ‘round 8 tonight.”

“No, no, that’s very kind, but really, you don’t have to do that,” Peter had insisted, seeming more panicky by the second.  But Sirius had insisted, and Peter eventually conceded defeat.

“You sure you’re alright, Wormy?  You seem a bit stressed,” Sirius said hesitantly.  Then, in a whisper, “If it’s getting to be too much worry for you, it’s alright if you want to switch it back to me.  I don’t mind.  It was just an idea to try to double the protection, you know, but really, the Secret’s just as safe with me as it is with you.”

Sirius could have sworn a flash of guilt crossed Peter’s face at what he’d whispered, but decided it was just his own paranoia.  He really had become a bit more paranoid than he would’ve liked to admit, ever since joining the Order and learning about the prophecy thought to concern his godson.

So now Sirius found himself walking up the path to the front gate of the Potter’s cottage.  He unlatched the gate, and continued up the path, but something felt terribly wrong.  Looking up from his feet, Sirius saw that the front door was hanging open, swinging slightly in the cold breeze.  His heart sank so quickly, he thought it might have fallen past his knees.  A panic slowly creeping up on him, Sirius ran the rest of the way to the front door.

“No…no…NO!”

The words seemed to be coming from some far away distance, though it was he who had screamed.  Sirius dropped the groceries, ignoring the apples that fell out of the bag and rolled across the tile, and collapsed to the floor next to the body that lay sprawled in the entryway.

“No…James…” Sirius broke off and choked back a sob as he reached down to pick up the glasses that had fallen on the floor near James’ face.  There was a trickle of fresh blood on his head where it had hit the floor.  It must have only just happened.  He had been only moments too late…

Sirius gently placed the glasses back onto his friend’s face, hands shaking, breath coming in short, painful gasps.  He felt like the world was falling out from beneath him, and for a moment he had tunnel vision.  How could this have happened?  But he couldn’t think of that, not now, as he looked down into the motionless face of the man who had been his closest friend, his brother.  James did not look like himself, in death.  No cocky, amused grin, no cheeks pink from laughter, no warmth…only pale skin, wide eyes, and cold, frozen clamminess.  Sirius could not bear to look any longer.

Panic overtook him again as he tore his eyes away from James, frantically remembering Lily and Harry. Harry…his godson…You-Know-Who wanted to kill him…had he succeeded?

Taking them two at a time, Sirius raced up the stairs.  He turned towards the hall on the right, and breathing heavily, heart pounding in his ears, he paused to listen.  The nursery door at the end of the hall was open, and Harry was screaming loudly.  Alive.  He was alive. But Lily…what about Lily…and where was You-Know-Who?  Surely it had been he who had come here; he who had killed James…

Sirius crept over the soft carpet towards the nursery, wand drawn.  He entered the room slowly, trying to calm his erratic breathing, but what he saw made his breath catch in this throat.  Lily was sprawled on the floor in front of Harry’s crib, her face pale against the shock of bright red hair pooled around her head.  The nursery wall to his right had been completely blown apart, and he could see stars in the inky sky as he looked out into the empty street.  The air in the room was still full of settling dust.  Sirius’ eyes snapped back to the floor.  Lying near Lily was, if possible, an even more horrific sight. You-Know-Who lie broken on the ground, his red, slitted eyes staring unseeingly at Sirius, the skin on his face and hands a terrifying white.  Sirius gaped in horror, not daring to move forward for a moment, envisioning You-Know-Who leaping up to attack him at any moment.  But when the man on the floor did not stir, Sirius rushed towards Harry, who was still screaming in his crib.  

“Harry…Harry…” Sirius picked up the crying baby, close to tears himself.  Now up close, he could see that Harry had not survived unharmed. Blood, thick red blood, was streaming from the baby’s forehead, rolling down his nose and mixing with the tears on his round cheeks.  Sirius couldn’t tell how deep the gash on his forehead was, and hurriedly dabbed away at the blood with his scarf to assess the injury.  The cut didn’t seem horribly deep: deep enough to bleed profusely, but not deep enough to require stitches.

Sirius cleaned Harry up, and then held him tightly to his chest, breathing deeply, trying to fight the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.  Harry was still crying.  “Shhh…shhh…it’s alright…” Sirius breathed, even though he knew it wasn’t.

He stood there with Harry for what felt like hours, the cries of the baby mixing with his own gut-wrenching sobs.  How long they stood there, Sirius did not know, for nothing mattered anymore, nothing at all.  It was just him and Harry now.

Gone.

They were gone.

A crash from downstairs brought Sirius back to the present.  He turned his head to look at Harry, pressed against his shoulder, clinging to his neck. Harry was his responsibility now. And Sirius was ready.  Ready to do anything to protect his godson; his best friend’s son. Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat.

Securing Harry in one arm, and drawing his wand with the other, he hurried out into the hall. Surely, whoever the intruder was had already heard Harry crying.  Sirius stopped before reaching the top of the stairs, heart pounding, as he heard footsteps coming up them.

“Stupif--- Hagrid!” Sirius exclaimed, as Hagrid’s large frame came into view.

“Sirius,” Hagrid nodded solemnly, his voice gruff.  His eyes, red from tears, found Harry, and now fresh tears began to flow from them. “Lily an’ James…Lily an’ James…I jus’ can’ believe…” Hagrid burst into noisy sobs.

“Yes, I… it’s quite difficult to…” Sirius choked, and tried to clear his throat.  “What are you doing here?”

“Come to take little Harry, ‘o course.  Dumbledore’s orders,” Hagrid sniffled.  

“What? No! Take Harry? Where? Why?” Sirius’ grip on Harry tightened, and Harry squirmed, whimpering. “I’m his godfather, I’ll take care of him!”

“Dumbledore says he’s ter go ter his aun’ and uncle, in Surrey.  Don’ know why.  I’m sure yer quite capable of tendin’ to him yerself, but I promised Dumbledore I’d bring ‘im.  An’ if we can’ trust Dumbledore, who can we trust?”

Sirius stared at Hagrid for a long moment, part of him wanting to make a run for it; dash down to his motorcycle parked at the edge of the village, and fly away with Harry, far away, where no one, not even Dumbledore could find them.  But there was another part of him, a bigger part of him that knew what Hagrid had said was true.  He had to trust Dumbledore. Dumbledore often knew what was best, and if Dumbledore wanted Harry to stay at his aunt and uncle’s, there must be a good reason.

Forcing his arms to loosen their grip on the last tie he had to his best friends, Sirius reluctantly handed Harry over to Hagrid, gently placing him in Hagrid’s dustbin-sized hands, trying to hide the tear that had involuntarily crept down his cheek. “Be safe, Harry,” he whispered, softly enough so that he hoped only Harry could hear.  Harry began to cry loudly again, distressed at being passed to unfamiliar hands.

Hagrid grunted his goodbye between his own tears, and stumped down the stairs, Sirius following silently behind him, anger slowly replacing grief as he stared down again at James’ silent, pale face in the entryway.  He was angry; angry at Voldemort, angry at Dumbledore for taking away his godson, but most especially, angry at Peter for betraying the people he had come to call his only true family.  It had to have been Peter, surely.  How else could You-Know-Who have known where to find them?  A sudden, reckless desire for revenge overtook him as he stepped across the threshold and into the chilly night, closing the door on the nightmarish scene in the house behind him.  He knew what he had to do.

“Take my motorbike,” he said suddenly, the words leaving his mouth before he could think.  Hagrid turned to look at him. “Take my motorbike, Hagrid, I left it parked outside the village, near the big tree at the head of the path.  It will get you to Surrey much faster.  I won’t be needing it anymore.”

“Are yeh sure?  Yeh love tha’ bike, Sirius, why I remember – “

“Yes, take it.  I mean it.  Harry loves riding on it, always calms him down,” he said, as Harry’s screams pierced the night.

Hagrid nodded, and turned away again.  His large frame blocked Sirius’ view of Harry, and some part of him felt suddenly lost, now, without him.  He watched Hagrid walk further down the path, Harry’s screams now fading into the distance; watched until he saw the motorbike ascending higher and higher into the dark, starry sky; watched until there was nothing more to see.  Sirius turned back toward the eerily silent house, a pit of despair in his chest, and anger boiling in his stomach. Glancing once more at the now motorcycle-less sky he turned on the spot, disappearing into nothingness.

[nebty]

So.... Rya and Fletcher..... please tell me there is a Fanfiction out there. They’re absolutely adorable. (Yes, Rya too.)

Awww, thank you~ No fanfic per se, but @scruffyturtles and I did a lot of RP writing back and forth while playing together. It’s a little rough, since it was written in real-time, but here, I knit together a long-ish scene we played out.

For context: This takes place immediately after Arianna’s child is born. Rya has lived these events before (a shout-out to her being in her NG+ run), but this time around Fletcher and three other hunters are also investigating the mystery of Paleblood (and Fletcher and Rya have become friends and hunting partners). Fletcher, being a trained physician, took it upon himself to help Arianna through the birth.

“She doesn’t deserve this. No mother deserves to see that, nor what I must do with it.”

“It’s not hurting anyone, Rya. We can’t let it stay with Arianna, of course. But maybe…” Fletcher sighs in frustration, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “Maybe we could monitor it for a bit? I don’t know. This is all completely insane.”

“Believe me, it was.” Rya rubs her temple, already recalling the incident in her mind. Back then, Arianna had delivered it herself. The pain she must’ve gone through and the loneliness of doing it alone. Only with that thing to look back at you. “I’m not waiting. And I don’t seek to argue. Give it to me.”

Instinctively, Fletcher tightens his hold on the thing in his arms. It gives a strangely undulating squeak of protest. It had been a long, hard labour, at least 8 hours. His arms are streaked with gore - the only sterile substance available had been blood. His vision swims. If Rya wants it, he would not be able to stop her. An absurd thought crosses his mind, ‘I’ve never lost a child.’ It was what he had told Arianna when she, terrified about giving birth, begged him for reassurance. In all his time as a doctor, he’s never lost a child in labour, or a mother. Will he start now?Stop it. This thing isn’t a child. But it looks so much like one. It cries. It sits there placidly in his arms now that he has relaxed his grip. His mind wars with his emotions. His emotions tell him that of course this is a child. It had come out of a pregnant woman, like all of the others. It is precious, because he and Arianna had fought so hard for it. Yet his mind supplies an image of dozens of these same creatures swarming him deep in the Cathedral Ward.He looks from the thing in his arms, to Arianna weeping in the corner of the chapel, to Rya’s hard eyes. He swallows, then takes a step forward.“I… I don’t know what to do.” He says softly, and finds that there are tears in his eyes. “The birth went well,” he says helplessly, trying to explain, trying to convey the mess of what he is feeling.

Her fingers grip tightly against the fabric of her sleeves. Seeing Fletcher so distraught leaves a giant sting in her chest, unable to bring forth words after hearing the strain in his voice. He…she…they really don’t deserve this. Is she some kind of monster? Remaining composed in all this insanity? Or is she like the mad hunters she preys upon, unable to feel any kind of remorse. Rya takes a step back for a moment, steadying her breath. She forces herself to look at the thing, refusing to acknowledge it as a child. She can’t acknowledge it as a child.

They really don’t deserve this.Her eyes narrow as it stirs in his arms, so harmless and fragile. If she doesn’t do anything now, they’ll…they’ll only grow more attached. More confused. Isn’t it her job? Preserving sanity? Killing what could be a threat to people? She grits her teeth, hands now down to her sides as she balls them into fists. “Fletcher,” her voice is soothing, trying to ease his sorrow, trying to help him understand.

“You did wonderful.” Rya removes her mask, lips quivering. She forces herself to smile. “This is not on you. It never was, or is.” She takes a couple steps closer, removing her fear of the creature in his arms. Her hands hold out to his own, sliding alongside his sleeves and pulling him into a loose embrace. It wriggles so innocently, so harmlessly. Her eyes pull up to look at his. “This burden isn’t yours to bear alone.” Her breath catches in a hitch, her head down to look at it moan for what could be its mother. “Please…”Fletcher leans against Rya as a wave of exhaustion threatens to drown him. It feels so good, to have someone to lean on. His breath catches, but he manages to say,“Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m not thinking straight. You shouldn’t have to do this either.” He takes a deep breath, enough to steady himself, and steps back. “There are some children that are born with severe birth defects.” He swallows. “Sometimes, even if everything seems to go right, even if…you think you’ve made it through, it’s kinder to let them go.” Fletcher looks down, taking one last look at Arianna’s baby. He’d fought so hard, but it is time to acknowledge that he’s failed. He has lost a child. And there isn’t anything he can do about it. He holds it out to Rya. “Would you…” She takes it from him. In her corner, Arianna had fallen into a fitful sleep.

Fishing around in his bag, Fletcher pulls out an empty syringe, which he fills with some of the poison he uses to coat his knives. His eyes meet Rya’s, and he sees the sympathy in them, but also resolve. And in that moment the sorrow and gratitude are nearly overwhelming. He swallows hard, then carefully injects the poison into the creature’s heart. It lets out a cry that sounds almost surprised, then Rya has to tighten her grip as it jerks and spasms, its body fighting its own death. Soon, though, it droops, and lies still.

—–

A mist starts to form around the Tomb of Oedon, almost as if the Great Ones are weeping. Rya, focused on her task, continues digging in a spare grave while visibility began to thin. Once she’s done, she wipes the sweat off of her brow and takes the young thing in her arms, eyes straining to look at its lifeless corpse. “You know,” she starts, closing her eyes and letting the sudden small breeze sober her mind. “You’ve really opened my eyes to a lot of things. More than those scholars could’ve hoped for on their own. Dealing with Alfred, giving him a choice. Helping Eileen, ultimately saving her life.  Arianna…” She takes a deep breath.“It’s okay.”

Fletcher sits on the cold ground, back against one of the graves. He had offered to help but it soon became clear that he was in no fit state for digging. His vision swims, and he can feel the tightness in his chest as he breathes. Too long without sleep. Too long out of the dream. He will start coughing soon. But he has found himself unable to leave Rya’s side. After giving Arianna a drought to deepen her sleep, and instructing the chapel-dweller to watch her, he has followed her out here.He looks up at her last comment. He’s having trouble concentrating on what she’s saying. Her voice seems to fade in and out of his mind.

“Thank you.” His voice is a hoarse rasp. “You’re very kind.” He blinks, then takes off his glasses and tries to wipe them on his filthy sleeve. Of course, it only ends up making them dirtier. He leans back against the tombstone. “Thank you for helping me, Rya,” he says again. How inadequate that sounds. But what else can he say? His tired mind pulls his thoughts in different directions. I would never have lasted so long without you, I wish you didn’t have to deal with this, I’m so glad you’re here, I love you… He blinks again, and finds that he’s looking up into her face. It’s blurry. Why is it so blurry? Ah, the glasses. He tries to smile. “Still recognized you,” he mumbles. “Even without the glasses. Think I’d recognize you anywhere.”

—–

Rya nods at his thanks, turning to put the…child, to rest in the earth. He talks as she buries it under the dirt, making sure the mound was evident enough that something was deserved to be put here. She zones out for a moment, thinking about her earlier words, and how this thing couldn’t have been considered a child. And yet, it came from Arianna. It was delivered into Fletcher’s arms. It died like any other living being. She continues to let the breeze calm her nerves, only turning around as she hears another repeated thank you. She musters her own smile, coming in closer. Her hands reach for his, taking them in a firm hold to let him know she’s here. I know that feeling, the crippling isolation. How it tears at you…rips you to pieces. Her eyes fall onto his mouth as he speaks,

Even without the glasses. Think I’d still recognize you anywhere. 

She bites her lip, letting go of his hands to remove his  glasses for him. This man…“Had you found yourself in a scuffle, you’d be maimed in no time with these.” Rya fumbles in her pocket finding a small handkerchief given to her by her old lady in the past, making sure the glasses received a proper cleaning. The nerve of this doctor, being so careless. “Lucky for you, I’m here to take care of you. It’s my job, you know.” She breathes some hot air into the glasses before wiping them down, being very thorough to handle the corners as well. Her fingers grip at the handles before handing them back to him, a sigh escaping from her mouth. “I’m a maid by heart. It’s my duty to serve, too.” She takes the chance to bring him into another embrace, not wanting him to dwell in his own thoughts. Master did this all the time. It would only make things worse. I want him here. I want Fletcher here, focused on me.

“Sarya,” her voice strains as it comes out, so she says it again. “…Sarya. I’d like for you to call me that from now on.”

“Sarya.” Fletcher repeats, feeling her arms warm and strong around him. His mind is still fuzzy, but he catches the weight of the request and smiles, reaching out to hug her back. “Beautiful,” he mumbles into her hair. The edges of his vision start to darken, heralding an imminent blackout, but he strains to say something more. “Don’t want you to jus’ take care of me. Want to take care of you too.” His arms tighten around her. “Partners.” His eyes are so heavy. What would the harm be in closing them? Just for a little bit? Fletcher lays his head on Sarya’s shoulder as the world dissolves around him.

Rya feels her chest get tighter when Fletcher says her real name, her brows furrowing as she deepens the embrace. It feels very natural, yet so surreal. She really, really likes it. Her hands find the small of his back and begins rubbing careful circles around it, hoping to ease his nerves. Beautiful, he says. Hmph. To say such things so brazenly, it’s enough to make a woman fall so deeply– “I never said you shouldn’t. You’ve done so plenty of times.” She huffs a sigh while feeling his weight pressed against her shoulder, and she can’t help but think how his head fits so well there, nuzzled into her. Her free hand moves to his hair as she caresses him with care, bringing the both of them over to a small corner near the giant obelisk to rest. Her consciousness begins fading as well, the feeling of his breath on her neck coupled with his warm embrace giving her a sense of much needed security. Surely she can take this moment of solace and seize it? Just this once? Rya closes her eyes, the breeze dying down as the tree branches whisper something like a lullaby. In her slumber, she can swear she sees the rising sun as she mutters under her breath,“Til the end.”

[no5collabsproject]

So Let The River Run... A Mature Ed Sheeran Oneshot

Extended A/N:  So, yesterday, Ed and Eminem blessed us with the video for River.  Which features Dark, Pissed off, Wet Ed.  And then it sorta spiraled into a stream of consciousness by Miss @naughty-teddy-innit and your Best Bitch Angst QUEEN, @tea-and-toblerones

Trigger warning (?):  This takes a deeper turn then you might expect, it’s dark and intense, a little smutty but now you’d expect, and features anxiety and depression themes, sort of, but we’re REALLY proud of it. We hope you love it. Please feel free to bless us with all forms of feedback, We LOVE it.  Xoxoxo

So Let The River Run....

@tea-and-toblerones AKA Miss Nanna: “Okay I would just like to say teddy in the river mv? I would like him to just tackle me in a bear hug and it spin into a fuck.”

You wasn't sure what had came over him but you could tell he was pissed. His entire presence screamed furious, done, ENOUGH. Nothing had been easy for him lately, pressures building, trusts broken, life simply overwhelming, and it looked like a line had been crossed. Shattered.

His furrowed brow. His flared nostrils, his balled fists. He was soaking wet, his cinnamon curls plastered flat to his forehead, and you assumed the thunderstorm outside had caught him. His broad chest heaved, his stride was determined, quick, and he was in your space  in no time. His hands gripping your shoulders for dear life, his lips crashing down onto yours were your only clue as he guided you up against  the wall.

“Not even one fuckin’ word. Not until I make you scream.“ His voice is an impatient growl in your ear, causing shivers to run down your spine.

He spins you around, pressing you up against the wall. Not exactly with what you would call force but with a certain intensity. But even in this moment, as one strong hand palms and kneads your ass, the other hand directing you to look back at him, he takes that split second to lock eyes on you.  A brief of twitch of his eyebrow, as if to say “Yeah?”, because that is an assumption he would NEVER make. You bite your lip, giving him a small swift nod, grateful that he wasn’t lost enough to forget, before turning back to the wall.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling them away from the wall just a bit. He tore your skinny jeans down to your ankles, none of the usual care and thoughtfulness he normally exuded, just impatience. Anger almost?  But at what you could only guess.  You step out of them as his foot came down between yours, sweeping them farther apart. His fingers find your core, vigorously stroking, plunging, working in and out of you, a frantic effort to work you up, to ready you for him. Usually he's caring and takes his time, putting your needs first, his enjoyment obvious, but not this time. He hits that one spot that makes you see stars, and it’s not a moment later that you feel him, hard, pressing himself roughly against your entrance.  There’s none of the usual to this needy, pissed off fuck.  Not the pause;  the pause where he always, ALWAYS waits to make sure you’re ready. Not the ghosting of his soft lips against your skin before he thrusts into you; his way of imprinting “I love you” into your flesh no matter what kind of sex was to follow. This was different, almost unsettling. His only need, to bury his cock so deep inside you it erases everything. Every slap of his warm skin against yours, every muted gasp and muttered curse that falls from your mouth when you two are joined, the sanctuary your snug warmth provides his aching body… It’s his outlet. His cure.

His hand finds your hair, gripping it tightly as he pushes  himself into you with no warning. His normal moans, gasps, are replaced with fierce, almost possessed grunts. Every swear, every gasp only adds fuel to the intense fire that’s prickling under your skin.  You weren’t used to this, this no eye contact thing. Sex for him was about the connection, even when you weren’t face to face when you started, at some point, he’d make sure you were. Seeing the pleasure build behind your eyes was one of his favourite things, watching you come apart at the seams, and then losing it himself as you held onto each other for dear life.  Not this time. This wasn't the loving, caring sex that you were used to. This was nothing more than a way work out the storm that was brewing inside him.

The sharp snap of his hand coming down on your ass took you by surprise. You gasp, your muscles tightening in anticipation, clamping down on him hard which earns you a satisfying growl. The words “AGAIN Teddy…” were dancing  on the tip of your tongue but you just managed to refrain from vocalizing it since he’d ordered you to remain silent. There was a pause but he must have sensed that your reaction was a good one, because another sharp slap left its mark on the curve of your asscheek, the sharp twinge of pain mixed with pleasure so fucking good.

His hand snakes around you, holding you firmly against him as he fucks his frustrations, his emotions, his...pain?  into oblivion, into you. His growls had morphed into full blown screams, cries laced with anger that you couldn’t comprehend, what was this? His movements were becoming faster and less controlled, not that they really had any control to begin with, and you knew he was fast losing control of whatever it was ...of everything.

You reach back, needing to anchor yourself, somehow, and your hands find his head, fingers sliding against his damp curls. Your touch, your hands tangled in his hair, it's almost enough to ground him in spite of his fury.

The Teddy you know... He's still there, a tiny bit of him slipping back in as he desperately wraps one strong arm around your middle, crushing you against him as he buries his face in your shoulder, and his cock as deep in you as he's ever been. It's as if he's anchoring himself to you, his port in the storm.

His sudden outburst, a garbled cry, the scream of “FUCK” that was issued as a roar of not even ecstasy, but pure unfiltered emotion; was it desperation, loss of control, anger, whatever it was, it was NOT what you’d come to expect from him when the two of you came together. His fist slams into the wall above you as he sinks every ounce of himself into that scream, and every bit of himself into you.  All the pain he had been feeling. All the doubt. All his insecurities. Every bit of him was in that release, and your orgasm, or lack thereof, was suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

You feel him sag against you, his hot breath dancing across your damp skin. He slides out of you as you break away from his strong grip to steady yourself. You can feel the warmth running down your leg as you card your fingers through his damp curls.

He never doesn't make sure you come first, he’s always, always attentive and thorough and puts you first, but he's so beyond that, so over whatever demons are raging inside him, so lost in you, that you don't even care. You can feel his body shuddering against yours, shaking, not just from the tremendous orgasm that's ripped through him, but from everything else that's he's just released along with it

He's not catching his breath well, he's still beyond words, and you can tell he's struggling beyond what he can deal with alone. Your heart is breaking for him, and before you can utter a word, his added weight causes you to lose your balance, falling against the wall. Before you both go down, you right yourself and slowly, carefully sink down to the floor, pulling him down with you into the soft pile of the fluffy carpet. You gently pull his head to your shoulder, wrapping your arms around his shaking body as the two of you sag against the dark blue wall. And you wait. Silently, still not speaking, not a word, just letting him ride out his emotions as you card your fingers through his now fluffy curls.

"... I'm a right prick." He manages, his voice flat, his head still tucked into your embrace. His warm hand finds yours, the one currently tangled in his hair, and gently removes it, entwining his fingers with yours. He lifts his head from your shoulder, and his beautiful blue eyes lock onto yours. God. The pain that echoes in them.... It's not okay.

“ I'm so…. So fuckin ‘ sorry…. “   He falls silent again, lost in his own mind.

You continue your silent support, not knowing what to say to help take the pain away. You just continue to hold him close, your grip tight as you press your forehead against the soft curvature of his own, and you do the only thing you know how to do. You just... be there.  With him, holding him, in the hope that he’ll realise that you will ALWAYS be his constant.

"Ed..." you finally whisper, your hand still wrapped tightly in his. Your other hand cups his scratchy, damp cheek, tilting his face so that he can see you as you try to find the right words. He struggles to meet your gaze, as though ashamed, but you’re not having it.

"It's okay not to be okay. You know that right?" You speak softly, but vehemently, never breaking away from his gaze. "You'll work through this. Actually. No. Fuck that. WE will work through this. I'll be here so you won't be alone. "

His eyes meet yours and you could see the wetness that had gathered not quite to the point of tears, but still present. His hands are suddenly cradling your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. His face pressing against yours.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”  His thumbs are brushing gentle paths along the dip and curve of your cheekbones as shakes his head.  “Jus’.  Don't go, Kay? Please. I need….” His words melt away and you’ve never been kissed this tenderly, so softly, his touch infused with everything he felt but couldn't put into to words.

He pulls you to his chest, and you can feel the steady, calm beat of his heart against your cheek, reassuring and strong, and you’re just so glad he’s here with you. Hearing your words, and feeling your promise.

“I'm right fucking here Ed. Right here. And I’m not going anywhere.” Your words, sharp and filled with promise and vehemence, wash over him, and you can feel his whole body let go as he realizes that you ARE his constant.

And you stay like that. Just like that. Holding each other, wrapped around each other, on the carpet, against a dark blue wall, and you don't let go.

Because neither of you ever will.

[jaylightning]

A snake in the academy

The second year that no one dared to cross without facing consequences.  The second year that people were FORCED to fear as she made sure they knew their place before the ultimate assassin.  Top tier in her club of assassins, there was no one that dared to face her, and people that dared try would find themselves without a future.  This is how it should be.  A quest for power and greatness, to be recognized as the best assassin there was, and to have no one look down upon her.

Life was ... good.  Just how it should be for someone as skilled as her.  Skill in the arts would rocket her farther as time progressed.  Once she was out of this school, the world would be at her hands.  These weapons, these abilities of hers were a dream come true.  There was no denying she was living the high and having no issue at all in putting people in their place or six feet under depending if they disrespected her enough.  The daggers she carried held so much blood, she could swear she could still smell the bloodshed to this day.  Such a grand and glorious high ... Life couldn’t go much better.  It might be why her future would take such a sudden drop.  The greatest dream turning into the cruelest nightmare.  All of it started with a greeting...

‘Hiya... Heard yer a scary lil’ kitten..’

That moment caused the world around her to freeze.  Students had paused to stare as the top assassin could only glare at the man.  Standing there dressed in a similar uniform only his colors were black and purple.  This silver-haired man was taunting her.  Just who in the hell was he, and how could he even dare approach a high tier student like her?  The only one foolish enough had been that idiot delinquent back at one of the other schools.  She was ready to respond back with some force, but she suddenly felt something against her back...

‘Don’t worry.  Yer gonna get yer chance.  I signed up fer tha’ competition.  Let me see how scary the Durandal’s top assassin is,’ he spoke, having his back to hers.  The moment she tried to swing at him, he was gone in a flash.  In that one moment, her nightmare began.  In that single moment, she felt herself stumble.  In front of the eyes of others, that man dared to look down at her!. This wouldn’t stand.  In that one moment, she vowed to kill him.  When that day come, the day of the duel that he spoke of, the red-headed assassin stood within a few feet of the smiling silver-haired bastard that dared to taunt her like this.  Just that smile alone was enough to want to send her into a blood-filled frenzy.

“Let the bloodshed begin...!” she yelled out to the man as she made her move.  Her own shunpo as she threw out her daggers that the male casually side-stepped.  Slitted eyes were watching her carefully as she glided through the air.  The next move had her vanishing and appearing next to one of her daggers with a flurry of more coming up in close range.  Each one deflected with the irony that he was using one of hers he picked up and decided to mock her movements with for his counter.  Only growing more frustrated, the woman leapt toward the snake of a man with her two main blades in hand.  The response she received was a block by a ... wakizashi?  What kind of weapon was that?  It seemed rather ... normal in comparison to some in the school.  Backing away for a moment, she would come forward and flash into him with a shunpo to strike at him.  Each strikes blocked with the man smiling.  Having enough of this toying around, she would prepare herself for her next attack.  Daggers in hand, she prepared to release a deadly lotus ... but the man had his back to her and walking away.  What was... this?

“You’re just giving up!?  You honestly think I’m gonna let you get away wit-” she was cut off as the man suddenly turned around with the blade drawn back.  Who was this guy thinking he was?  Was he really going to try something at that distance?  The blade ... it must fire something.  Fine, he wanted to attack, then why not?  She’d just dodge the blast and find her opening.  He would die right here!

“Ikkorose ... Shinsou...” he commented.  A blast of air came from all directions and the blade... Extended?  She was standing there with the blade nearly touching her neck.  Glancing toward the blade and behind her, she would see the distance covered.  That... was his weapon?  What kind of..?  The blade drew back as she watched it.  A hand reached to touch her neck, feeling a warmth.  It.. grazed her?  Stepping up beside her, he would give a pat on her head before walking away from the woman.

“Yer quite the fearsome tiger, but yer really jus’ a kitten wit’ stripes.  Let’s try this again when ya get better.  Bye-bye ~” he walked away leaving the woman in the arena by herself.  Eyes that had watched this feat were speaking out the events that had occurred.  The top assassin of this academy had been made a fool of?  She was stunned.  Was it out of fear?  Was it out of confusion?  No ... She was stunned at this emotion she felt deep inside.  Never before did she feel such intensity in her chest.  This... Hatred.  That man WOULD DIE by her hands, her blades!  Seething with a few breaths, she would finally let out a scream to vent that overwhelming anger that built.

That silver-haired snake would die!

[magma-odor-sleuth]

GOOD END. PLEASE. LET HIM B HAPPY

Send a muse + an ending

He was in such a hurry with his flight that he nearly crash landed both him and Lavender into the ground. Thankfully he didn’t though, since he didn’t want this all to go wrong at the last second! Once on the ground, he gave a light sigh. “Thanks Lavender- you’re fantastic as always! I promise I’ll take you an’ everyone out later okay?” After a satisfied chirrup from the large bat dragon, he recalled her into his pokeball and finally looked upon his final destination.

Home.

His shoulders relaxed and a warm smile spread on his face. It’s been so long since he’d been back here and yet it still felt like this was where he belonged. It was.. where he was needed. He didn’t waste anymore time as he pushed forward, quickly throwing open the door. “Mom-!” he called out. Though by doing so he ended up startling poor Valerie who was currently making supper and making Eve nearly jump out of her skin. “Adrian-!” they both exclaimed.

“Valerie- Eve-!!” he grinned widely. “I- I’m back home-” Valerie was trying hard not to mess up the food while still being inwardly excited to see her brother again after so many years. Eve stood from where she was sitting and quickly closed the gap between her and Adrian. “Eve I missed yo-” But he was cut off as Eve slapped him roughly across the face.

“You--!!! You-- you’re despicable, making Mom worry like you did! How- How dare you!” she fumed. Adrian was a bit dumbstruck at the suddenness of it, though it was clear she was just overwhelmed. There were so many years of pent up anger in her at both him and her father, but she too had missed him deeply. Even so, she couldn’t just take him coming back so suddenly like that. “Just- go talk to her,” she said, quickly shooing him off. She needed.. time to calm down. “Val- the meat’s burning, I can smell it-” she snapped. Valerie jumped, noticing she’d been watching their exchange a bit too closely and had neglected the food.

Adrian just nodded, a happiness welling in him he could hardly contain just at seeing Val and Eve again.. He hoped he’d get a chance to see the triplets too, though he knew they were off on their pokemon journey. He quickly made his way towards his mom’s bedroom, where she was resting. Her illness kept her mostly bedridden these days.. He needed to see her again. So he could tell her face-to-face..

He pushed open the door. “Mom-” Gina looked up suddenly as her door flew open, though at seeing her son standing at the door quickly overwhelmed her with so many emotions. 

“Addy-!! Addy baby-” Adrian quickly made his way to her bedside so she could shower his face in kisses. “Oh Addy, I missed you so much..” she pulled him in to hold him close, and he wrapped his arms around her as well.

“M-mom.. I missed you too..” Tears welled in both of their eyes as they hugged each other tighter. He was so afraid he wasn’t going to get the chance to see her again. That if he came back, it’d be too late to do anything for her. “Mom I gotta tell ya, you’re not gonna believe it-” He pulled away from the hug, but held both his mom’s hands in his.

“I met Steven Stone, the Champion of the League in Hoenn. He’s- he’s a good friend-” he wiped his face a bit since he had actually begun crying. “H-he introduced me to Roark wh-when there was a rock pokemon convention in Hoenn. I.. I talked to Roark ‘bout everythin’ a-an’ we battled. Mom, he said he’d hire me at the gym-” He did make a deal with him to get a proper trainer card made though, one that was actually legal. But that was a small stepping stone to what was now his much brighter future. Gina’s face showed everything from shock to surprise to overwhelming relief.

“Oh Addy- Addy, I’m so proud of you..” She cupped his face in her hands. Her little boy is finally all grown up. Adrian was smiling widely, placing his hands over hers on his face.

“That’s not all though.. h-he said he wanted to do everythin’ he could to help ya out.. He’s gonna help cover the costs o’ your treatments an’ everythin’--” She gasped a bit.

“Oh sweetie but-”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it Mom. He said I could pay it back by jus’ bein’ a real good trainer for his gym.” His chest welled with happiness at seeing the look on her face when he told her. This is what he was living for. This was why he was here, and where he belonged. “Maybe.. maybe one day I’ll be gym leader, yeah?” His mom beamed and pulled him into another hug.

“Oh sweetie, I want nothing more than for you to be able to follow your dreams..” She had felt so guilty for so long by putting such a huge burden on her eldest child back when he was younger.. but now that burden felt like it had been lifted. He pulled away again just enough that he could cup her face in his hands.

“Everythin’ is gonna be alright now, I promise. I’m stayin’ here from now on, an’ I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I’ll be here for you an’ the girls an’ I’ll work my hardest to keep it that way.” He smiled warmly. “Everythin’s gonna be okay.” A lot of things happened on his path here, good and bad. But.. he wouldn’t trade it for the world, even the bad stuff. They say everything happens for a reason. His mom’s tears trickled down her cheeks, her smile seemingly brightening the world around him.

“Oh Addy.. I’m so glad. I love you so much-” 

“I love you too Mom.”

Yeah, everything was going to be okay.

[fkjeon]

ignite the flames within me | i

○ pairing: yoongi | reader ○ genre: angst + fluff ○ words: 6,373 ○ warnings: none

⊱ a/n: HAPPY SUGA DAY! i had this in my drafts forever, and luckily it’s ben sitting at a few thousand words lmao. i really hope this is/was worth the wait. honestly, i had no plan with this, so it’s really not that story-line based. idk, i’m really trying to hone my writing skills, and i know i need to practice regularly. but nonetheless, pls enjoy this mess of work! and yes, part two shall be coming, idk when tho. any feedback is highly appreciated!

The ivory keys lay untouched, collecting dust overtime.

A passion left to waste; the zeal, once at its peak, now tucked away behind tired eyes and an aching heart. Min Yoongi had always loved the piano. The melodious notes that could be poured out from the slightest of movements, the sheer emotion that one would be able to express through the keys, the pace that one would set, whether it be light and cheery, or dark and dramatic.

There was so much to love about this immaculate instrument, yet his interest would slowly deplete, leaving the pallid clavier to rot through the scorching heat, and feisty winds. His love for music would not be ignited, yet he felt some sort of longing to, once again, be in tune and be able to show himself and his identity through every note played.

The wintry winds flew through the air, slapping him across the face with icy despair, as he walked through the quiet streets. The past few days had been extra bleak, matching the detachment that Yoongi had been feeling for the longest time. He really did not know what he wanted to do; walking around seemed like a good enough distraction at the time, but what he didn’t know was that he would be left with the roaming thoughts that he had tried so hard to control.

The sun had been hidden behind the murky clouds; his hands in his pockets, as he walked into the dimly lit coffee shop that he had taken a quick liking to over the past few weeks. The cashier would nod at his presence, giving him a questioning look that read, 'the usual?’, to which he acknowledged with the slight dip of his head. Yoongi had always liked his coffee quite strong; bitter, in fact.

Sitting at the far corner of the store, Yoongi was left alone with the rapid current of his thoughts that seemed to overwhelm him quite quickly.

‘Failure.’

‘Good-for-nothing musician.’

‘Wow, my three-year-old daughter could compose much better than this.’

He scoffed at himself, sifting through the large pile of insults that he had come to terms with a long time ago. He found himself smirking at the best ones.

‘Are you sure you can even play the piano? It seems as if you just bash the keys repeatedly.’

‘This is worse than when they called that damn shade of blue art!’

The waiter seemed to notice his distress, adding a little croissant on the side on his order.

“On the house,” the waiter assured him with a small smile. He returned the gesture, but the grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yoongi had always hated sweet treats.

☇

It was no particular Thursday morning.

The sun shone through the sheer material of his curtains, reminding him of another day that he dreaded to see. There was a sort of sickly heat that hung in the air around him, making the fabric of his clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin. Beads of sweat had already begun to form and he grimaced at the sudden light that had found its way right onto his closed eyes.

Deeply sighing, he pulled himself up, throwing the white covers onto one side, and walked over to the window. Even with the heat, there was still a sliver of a breeze present, kissing his wet skin with the slightest of a touch. He stared through the glass, eyeing the zooming cars and the people who seemed to be chattering away.

Still feeling empty, he forced the window pane down, shutting out the heat that seemed to quickly overwhelm his room before retreating into the bathroom and getting ready. He wasn’t even sure why he was getting ready, as no occasion called for it. However, he didn’t want to feel as if he were that useless.

Pulling his cap closer to his eyes, Yoongi strolled along the concrete path, keeping his head low. It wasn’t as if someone was going to recognise him from his musician days. After all, it had been much too long since he last sat on the stool and played his heart out. He sauntered to the park, sitting at a bench that no one occupied. These days, Yoongi had nothing better to do than to mope around.

It was funny how fate could change someone’s life within seconds. Here Yoongi was, sitting on a park bench, hands in pockets and earphones in. He hadn’t noticed the girl who spotted him from across the path, immediately recognising his facial features from watching his performances, one too many times.

☇

You had just finished your morning class, which meant that you had the rest of the day to yourself. Not knowing what to do or where to take yourself, you decided on having a little walk within the small park that was located just outside your apartment block.

You had always loved the park; the playground that seemed as if it was always occupied, the couples that would wander through — holding hands and sweet smiles, those motivated individuals who always seemed to be able to go on a run, no matter what day it was.

Holding your still-cold bottle of ice tea, you walked through, examining the bright green leaves that flourished from the beating sun. You noticed the daisies and canopies that littered the ground bought a spark of colour from the already dried-up grass.

As you were walking along, you had passed the man that was seated on the bench, yet from the corner of your eye, you swore his presence deemed extremely familiar to you. Upon closer inspection, you had realised that it was your all-time favourite musician, one that hadn’t been active recently. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as your legs froze. You failed to conjure up any thoughts, as your mind was numb with nervousness.

You were conflicted — should you approach him, or should you just walk away?

Min Yoongi had always been your favourite musician, ever since you heard a sliver of his beautiful composition that he had played at a festival. You could tell that he poured all of his emotions into each note, and that just made you adore him even more. You had strived to become like him; cool, composed, all the uneasiness melting away as you struck each chord, head swaying along to the beautiful rhythm that you had created.

You heart swelled as you saw his form, arms outstretched, as if embracing the fierce heat that surrounded the two of you, yet you were much too jittery to notice that your drink had already become much too warm for your personal liking.

You cursed under your breath and decided to just, ‘fuck it,’ taking long, yet hesitant, steps towards the man who you thought was sleeping at first. Your heart rate had picked up dramatically, the wave of confidence that you had just experienced, deteriorating much too quickly and you found your steps faltering the closer you had got. By the time you were a few inches away, you had begun to second-guess yourself — asking yourself too many questions that could not be answered within the span of a few seconds. The few seconds in which Yoongi had noticed the shadow over his head, and got up to face the current stranger that seemed to look much too confused.

You hadn’t noticed the boy staring up at you, until the false confidence that you wore as a mask decided to show up again. However, it all came crashing down as soon as you noticed Yoongi’s lingering eyes. Your cheeks blazed with the burning crimson and you could barely meet his gaze.

“Um… I— I ju—,”

The lack of words on your end made it even more embarrassing for yourself. Here you were, walking through the park that you passed almost daily, and somehow fate decided to place your absolute favourite musician here, right in front of your very eyes. Though, you weren’t able to get a single word out. They were there, you were sure of it, but the phrases that you choke out, were clogged within your throat — the lack of tenacity not helping.

“May I help you?”

And his voice was as smooth as you had imagined. Deep and velvety, the words ringing through your ears, repeating itself on a constant loop, as your mouth gaped open to stare at him. You felt as if his piercing eyes could see right through you, read your every thought and movement, yet you felt oddly comfortable. Opening your mouth a few times, you took a deep breath to compose yourself and challenged his stare with one of your own.

“Y— You’re Min Yoongi right? The famous pianist?”

You could see his face drop considerably, and you were taken aback by his sudden change of emotion. No longer was the shooting gaze, instead being replaced with the diversion of his eyes. The silence that grew between the two of you had become much too awkward, and you found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“I— Um… I just wanted to say how much I really love your compositions. You’re actually one of my favourite musicians—,”

“Don’t call me that.”

His tone had changed to one of bubbling anger, the pent-up frustration from years of harsh criticism had all unravelled itself unknowingly.

“I— I’m sorry, I didn—,”

“I’m not a damn musician. I know that, everyone knows that, so I don’t need someone like you telling me something that isn’t true. What? Is it because you want an autograph or something?”

The sudden temper, that had somehow been triggered from your apparently unwise choice of words, had you taking a step back. You had never meant to offend him, and the literal praise that you had sent his way, was meant to make him smile, meant to make him bashfully look away, meant to make him stare at you with glee. So why was he now yelling with such an outrage that you had to move away in order to get him to calm down?

You frowned, eyebrows furrowing from his constant rambles of how he 'wishes he never got into music’ and how much he 'hates the damn piano’. It saddened you immensely to see someone who was so in touch with their creative and musically active side, to throw it all away, all because the criticism got too much.

You would never fully understand Yoongi, an amateur like yourself could never garner the amount of attention he would get whenever he played one of his compositions. So you could only stare at him, guilt and pity brimming along the surface of your lungs, as he slumped onto the bench in defeat.

A part of you wanted to walk away, tear down his posters and throw away the records that you had collected over the years, but you knew that the regret would be too much for you to handle. Instead, you faced him and bowed, apologising for stirring up unnecessary emotions. He looked at you with tired eyes from a slouched position. You couldn’t read him, there was no sense of anger within his eyes, instead, a sheer nothingness had glazed over his eyes, giving off indifference. It seemed as if he was used to giving off this expression to countless people.

☇

The rest of the day turned out to be dreadful. After the awful encounter with Min Yoongi, you were welcomed home with the mess of your house that you had just left because of the frantic morning that you had. Amidst your worries, your luck had blessed with a broken fridge and a mountain of food that had to either be eaten or thrown away. You couldn’t be more frustrated.

You decided to call up one of your close friends to see whether or not he would have liked to join you on your lovely adventures. Dialling his number, you held the phone to your ear and prayed that he would pick up.

“Hello?”

“Oh my god, I was hoping you’d pick up.”

“What’s up? Why do you sound so worried?”

And that was how you ended up with Seokjin on your couch, practically devouring all of the leftover foods that you weren’t able to stomach. Seokjin had been one of your closest friends for the longest time; he was always there in your times of need, offering advice or just ‘blessing you with my presence’, as he liked to call it. The two of you were a funny pair — the complete opposites that somehow managed to fit perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

Seeing how you were moping around, rather than engaging in the random jokes and weird topics that Seokjin and yourself liked to engross yourselves in, he began to interrogate you until you caved.

“Come on Y/N, I know something’s wrong, don’t even try,”

“Nothing! I just had a bad day,”

“I’m not a boyfriend where you can just pretend that everything’s okay and then get mad when they brush it off,”

You laughed at his stupid comment, “Okay, okay. You got me there. I just— I bumped into Min Yoongi—”

“Wait, Min Yoongi? As in the guy in your bedroom and the one you talk about like every single minute of your life like he’s the love of your life or something?”

You sighed, reminiscing over past conversations that you had with Seokjin that featured Min Yoongi.

“Yes Seokjin, that guy. Anyway, I bumped into him, and I told him how great his compositions are and that he’s a great musician and, I don’t know, he was kind of standoff-ish? Like, I wouldn’t call it rude, more so like, confrontational? I don’t know, it was nothing,”

“So what you’re saying is that he basically brushed you off and acted all high and mighty? I swear, if I ever see this guy, I’m going to show hi—”

You flicked Seokjin’s forehead, glaring at him with your piercing stare, as if to warn him in case he did anything stupid.

“No! It was nothing, I only liked him for his music anyway,” but it seemed as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather than convince Seokjin.

The rest of the day was more relaxed; the two of you preoccupied with random games and aimless puns that had you clutching your stomach in laughter. Seokjin always knew how to brighten up a dull atmosphere, and today was no different. He allowed you to forget about the horrid experience you had had with your role model, and had distracted you enough to keep you from dwelling upon the events that had occurred previously.

It was laughable really — you meeting your idol, and it turns out that he’s a dick. A complete opposite to the way his slim fingers would play each note, his mouth parted from concentration, and if you looked close enough, you could see his eyebrows furrowing, as the composition became deeper, more emotional.

The fact that you had invested so much of your time on someone who could easily act as if you didn’t even exist, baffled you. It made you realise how different people could be, and that made you sad— no, disappointed. You weren’t disappointed in Yoongi, there was no way you could have seen his true colours from the endless performances that you had watched over and over again in the confines of your bedroom walls.

No.

You were disappointed in yourself for assuming that you knew him well enough. You were disappointed in yourself because you had romanticised his performances in such a way, that you allowed your eyes to be blinded by the notes that he played. You were disappointed because you had fabricated him to be someone who you thought, not who he actually was.

After Seokjin had left, the silence hit you like a breeze on a cold day. It was unexpected, and took you by surprise, but as you walked into your bedroom, you could feel the chills beginning to rise upon your exposed skin as you looked around, your gaze landing on the numerous posters that littered your beige walls.

You could only smile bitterly at the fond memories that you had made — lying upon your bed, as you streamed performances instead of working on that essay that was due in a week’s time. It was ambivalent; it felt as if you had just broken up with your boyfriend, but you weren’t too sure what you were currently feeling.

Was it regret? Sadness? Anger?

☇

Ever since Yoongi had encountered you, he couldn’t stop thinking about the word that you had used.

‘Musician.’

There was nothing appealing about that word. Min Yoongi was not a musician — not anymore. He could not fathom the word, why people would choose to call him that, despite retiring from the music scene entirely. It wasn’t as if people liked his music anyway. There was too much criticism, and despite putting up a strong front, in the end, it all got to him.

However, he couldn’t help, but feel a little guilty. Guilty because he was too hostile. You were just someone who approached him, a stranger, yet the way he shut you down, as if you were one of them, made him feel bad. It just hit him a little too strongly because it had been such a long time since someone had come up to Yoongi to tell him something positive, to support him, and to tell him that they actually liked and enjoyed the music that he had written himself.

He sighed deeply as he lay atop the ruffled bedsheets that he had no intention of making. Yoongi’s mind was running at full speed, drilling through thoughts that he had no plan of dwelling upon.

As he sat up, his eyes fell on the glazed wood of the grand piano, shining radiantly because of the sun. He would be lying to himself if he said that he hadn’t thought of, once again, performing upon a stage — whether it be five or five hundred people watching. It was a thought he rarely had, and whenever he did, Yoongi would shut it out as quickly as possible; the urges disappearing, as he continued on with his daily life.

The world had gone quiet, the only sounds audible were the occasional chirps of the birds that had nested upon the tree outside his window, and the zooms of car that would drive past. The apartment he stood in was suffocating, and Yoongi felt that if he didn’t get out, he would choke on the poison that were his thoughts.

So that’s what he did. Yoongi threw on his shoes, and decided to escape reality for a while.

At this time of the day, the bar was usually empty, except for the sporadic day drinker that would lurk within the darkness of the venue. Flinging the door open, he was surprised to find a number of people sitting in the booths at the back of the room. As soon as he walked inside, he was greeted with the wafting stench of alcohol, something that he still hadn’t gotten used to.

“Yoongi! It’s been a while since you’ve been here,” the man that stood behind the bar exclaimed. He had blond hair that lay messily atop his forehead and a smile that could brighten this dimly lit room. The man was busy pouring drinks to already-drunk customers rambling and slurring about something that had gone wrong in their life.

“Hey Hoseok. Just needed to get away for a bit,” Yoongi replied, strolling over to one of the free stools before taking a seat, “thinking a lot.”

Hoseok understood. After all, he had been close friends with Yoongi ever since he had begun his music career. Being a prime supporter helped Yoongi stay on track, but even then, it all became too much and he decided to cut ties.

“The usual?”

A nod was all that was needed to get Hoseok working. A concoction of various alcoholic beverages had been mixed and placed in a small shot glass for Yoongi to down, and he did, feeling the satisfactory burn as the liquor passed through his throat, only to sit heavy within his stomach. It had been a while since Yoongi had drank, so after a couple shots, he was already feeling light-headed, and his words had begun to slur, much like those who were sitting close to him.

“A— And she came up to me,” Yoongi pushed back his hair, only to have it fall over his eyes again, “and I b— basically… Basically, I told her something like, what was it again? Oh! It was like, ‘fuck off’ or something.” Hoseok just stood, listening intently as he filled up glasses to his customers’ request.

He could only console Yoongi through his actions, as he was rambling for far too long. The amount of secrets that he had spilled surprised Hoseok, as this was a side of Yoongi that no one had ever saw before. Hoseok pitied him, feeling empathetic for his friend who had dealt with so much for far too long. He thought that Yoongi would be happier now, especially since the comments had long gone away the moment he stepped away from the keys that seemed to haunt him.

However, that was not the case. Yoongi had never been more depressed — living his day-to-day life in absolute misery, hoping for something, or maybe even someone, to come and change that. Yet, Yoongi was notorious for pushing people away and letting them leave his side had never been easier until very recently. He was sad; angry at himself, but found excuses to put the blame on other people.

Whilst in the middle of a sentence, Yoongi halted, quietening down, before breaking into a fit of tears. His head lay upon the countertop, while he sobbed, letting the tears cascade and form into a puddle beneath him.

☇

It had been a few days since your encounter with Yoongi.

A part of you hoped that you would be able to bump into him, to see him once more, and apologise for offending him; for assuming something that you shouldn’t have. Yet, another part of you was glad that you may never have to see Yoongi again. You didn’t want to have to deal with the repercussions of meeting him again, of having to embarrass yourself once more, just to make sure that he didn’t think of you with such a negative stigma.

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a mere second, before throwing your head back in frustration. You needed to apologise, the guilt slowly eating away at you, even though you knew that you had done nothing wrong. Quickly throwing on your sneakers, you made your way out, praying that fate would be able to lead you to him.

You roamed through the same park where you had first found him. As you passed by the bench, the feeling of defeat was beginning to crawl its way into your mind, but you pushed it aside and carried on, thinking long and hard about where you might be able to find him. Searching near and far, you were just about to give up when you saw a very familiar figure stumbling out of a bar up ahead.

Your mind was blank for a few seconds, but upon realisation, your legs began to pick up their pace and without thinking, you started to run towards him. There was something that had compelled you to stop him before he left; before he disappeared back into the darkness, never to be heard from again. The thought scared you, so you were not going to let him go again, not before you apologised, that is.

“Y— Yoongi?” His name had been caught up in your throat, and you made a pathetic attempt to speak to him, you voice coming out wavering and full of nervousness.

“You again?” he was slurring, and it made you uncomfortable, “What do you w— want?”

You took in a breath, but just as you were about to speak, you could see Yoongi on the verge of stumbling upon the car-ridden street — an accident waiting to happen. Instinctively, you caught him before he could fall, but the look of offense and disgust made you quickly retract your arms, clearing your throat, as you remembered the reason as to why you were here.

“I— Um… I just wanted to apologise for the other day, you know. Offending you and all. I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to thank you for your music and how it changed my life and everything—,” you were beginning to ramble, something you did a lot whenever you were feeling burdened. You had to consciously stop yourself, but as your eyes fell upon Yoongi, you couldn’t help the sense of hopelessness that had surrounded his figure.

You pitied Yoongi. For too long had he hidden between the shadows, hiding wads of regrets and anger towards himself. He had secluded himself, letting himself become unknown to the horrid world that he was living in. There was so much sadness, so much anguish hidden between the specks of chocolate within his eyes. You could see — could feel the aura of bleakness and hatred he had for himself, and you pitied him. You wished you could take some of it away.

“I’m sorry too.”

The words took you by surprise. You were not expecting any sort of response, let alone an apology. Looking up, you noticed that his eyes were glued to the concrete that lay beneath the both of you.

“I’m sorry for being a complete fuck-up. You just wanted to say thank you and there I was, shutting you down because I was scared. I was scared that the comments would come back. I just wanted to run away from it all, and I thought that by losing everyone who I cared for, and everyone who cared for me, it would fix everything. But I was wrong. I just— Fuck, I was so damn wrong.”

The tears, that Yoongi had tried so hard to keep in, fell immediately, marking the grey concrete below. He couldn’t look up; much too embarrassed to face the stranger that he had wronged. So he kept his eyes on the ground, and tried to blink away the tears, but to no avail.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes had started to well up. It was as if you could almost touch the sincerity that he was pouring out of the depths of his hidden heart. With hesitation, you reached out and placed your hand on his shoulder. He didn’t back away or flinch, instead, welcoming your arm, and the radiating comfort that you expelled.

After a few minutes, the crying stopped and Yoongi quickly wiped away the last of the droplets that seemed to be caught within his eyelashes. He smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you could only stare at him with such a pain etched into your eyes. You were in such a pain because of the way he smiled, the way he was able to change his expression, as if he was so used to it.

Yoongi turned on his heel, albeit a little carelessly, and was about to walk away, when you spoke up.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “for everything.”

☇

The next couple of weeks had you brooding. You had replayed the second encounter with Yoongi, vividly remembering the exact words that he had relayed to you, and the evident heartbreak in his tone of voice. You hadn’t been able to focus properly, instead, your thoughts were overwhelmed with such disarray that you had found yourself to be completely distracted from all aspects of your life.

You weren’t too sure why it had affected you so much. Yoongi didn’t even know your name; you were a complete stranger to him, so why did you feel obligated to help him? You were a mere fan, but you had never felt more connected to him.

You knew you were going to regret your decision, but you were so determined that you didn’t even pay any attention to the part of you that was against your idea. So you made your way back to the park bench — to the first time you had ever met Min Yoongi.

The streets were quiet, a sharp contrast to the usually loud roads filled with zooming cars and loud chatter. Instead, the wind blew through you, sending chills down your spine, as you strolled to the exact location that you had avoided all of this time.

The sun was still high, hidden by a sheet of clouds that covered the hues of blue, instead painting it with strokes of grey, a murky comparison. As soon as the park was in your sight, a feeling of hope had enlightened your senses. You found yourself to be walking faster and faster, until the bench came into sight, and your entire body slouched in defeat. The sense of hope that had been running through your veins had halted; escaping your body entirely, as you approached the bench with such sadness.

Sitting upon the wooden planks, you placed your hands in your lap, fidgeting and playing with your fingers. As soon as you saw the empty bench, your heart dropped and you had just wanted to turn around and walk back home, but you had convinced yourself to stay, just in case Yoongi would walk by.

It was a sliver of a small chance, but you were willing to take it. You were willing to wait here every single day, just to be able to see Yoongi genuinely smile and now dwell upon the negativity that he had been placed right in the middle of.

After hearing his confessions, you had just wanted to ensure that Yoongi was feeling okay, and that he was able to pick himself back up, especially after looking so rough when he had come out of the bar. You were concerned, even though you were in no place to be. Still conflicted, you looked around, but there was no sight of him. Giving up, you stood and stretched your legs before making it back home. You were determined to see him once more.

☇

The next few days had you going back to the same bench, only to be met with the company of the dancing tree that stood grand behind you.

Yoongi had noticed you from his apartment window; the view clear of any obstacles. He felt guilty upon seeing your form sitting upon the bench, but Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to come down. There was something that kept him from facing you again. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the sudden spillage of emotion that he had shown to you, or if it was because he was just too embarrassed to see you. After all, he didn’t even know your name.

Drawing the curtains back, Yoongi sat upon the cushion; his head in his hands as he thought about what he could possibly do. He didn’t want to get too close, didn’t want to hurt your feelings, didn’t want you to continue whatever it was you were currently doing. Yoongi just wanted to be alone, to live his life in the shadows instead of having someone by his side.

It was better off that way.

And so, Yoongi would stare at your seated form, your fleeting eyes, and your still hands that would sit quietly upon your lap, wondering if keeping away and letting you forget about him was the best idea. Yet, he didn’t notice the fiery determination that had begun flickering within your eyes. There was no way you were going to give up, not after seeing Yoongi so helpless. Instead of the burning passion you had come so used to seeing, you were met with despair, forlorn and powerlessness.

You knew he knew.

You knew that he was able to see you, and that he could come down at any moment that he pleased. You knew that he was waiting for you to leave, but you weren’t going to give up. Not today, not any other day. Yoongi had another thing coming.

After sitting upon the wooden planks for what felt like centuries, you recalled the past encounter that you had had with Yoongi at the bar. That area of your city was somewhere that you weren’t necessarily familiar with, but had travelled to on specific occasions. The walk was moderate, allowing you enough time to familiarise yourself with the current surroundings that stood before you. It also gave you enough time to plan your course of action if you were indeed to “stumble upon” Yoongi once more.

Having walked for what seemed like kilometres, you finally reached the section of the city that you had found Yoongi in. Unconsciously, your steps had begun to quicken in pace and your heart was beating an unusual, frantic speed. You stopped right in front of the bar that Yoongi had collapsed out of; your breath jagged from the hurried momentum that you had undertaken. Calm, yet nervous, you composed yourself before walking inside, only to be hit with the strong odour of cigarettes and alcohol.

Ignoring the way your nostrils burned, you looked around — eyeing each individual that either stood near or sat upon a booth within the small room. You must’ve looked extremely lost because before you know it, you’re sitting upon one of the stools and having a relaxed conversation with the bartender, whom you had no idea knew Yoongi.

“You alright there, Miss? Looking a little bit lost, if I say so myself,”

You could only smile and nod politely, continuously looking around and clenching your fists in anticipation.

“My name’s Hoseok. I own this bar, and from the looks of it, you seem to be looking or waiting for someone. Got a name or anything? I know all the regulars that frequent this beauty!” Hoseok opened his arms wide, swirling, as if to bask in the building’s beauty. It made your heart swell because of his passion and genuine happiness that he seemed to experience.

You bit the bottom on your lip, wondering whether telling this stranger the name of a man you were so desperate to locate. At this point, you would appreciate any help given by any person, so you shrugged your shoulders, ‘why the hell not?’

“Y— Yeah actually. Yoongi, Min Yoongi? He’s just someone I know,”

Hoseok’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of his name, and you quirked a brow, “You know him? I mean of course you do, he’s a pretty famous musician and all. Anyway, I’ve been looking for him for a few days now, and I saw him stumble out of this bar and—,” you took in a breath before continuing, “I was just wondering if you knew where he was or could give me an address or something that’ll help me find him. He just— he seems so lost, and I want to help him.”

Your sharp stare of pure persistence had Hoseok smiling. It had been such a long time since someone had asked about, or even cared to mention Yoongi. Yoongi had become a no-one; irrelevant and frequently choosing to shield himself within the shadows of society. All the attention that he had once garnered, dissipated within time, and soon, he was one of us. Someone that ordinary people could not care less about.

He didn’t mind, hell— he could not be happier about it. A chance to bury his fame, a chance to live as someone that walked through the streets without having comments being thrown at him. It was a new life, and he was ready to live it to the fullest.

However, the life that he had expected had hit him from another direction. Yoongi was not prepared for the countless obstacles that he had had to encounter, the brutal comments murmured behind whispered lips and preying eyes, the quick zip-up of his hoodie and endless fidgeting of the cap that sat upon his head far more than he would have liked. Breathless chuckles left his pursed lips often, and his eyes did not glint with happiness, instead, with indifference.

It had been a while since Yoongi was as shaken up as he was after meeting you. The effect that you had had upon him, even after the two, not-so, pleasant encounters. Yet, the pure aura that surrounded was like a breath a fresh air; something that Yoongi so desperately needed. It wasn’t sexual desires, no— all Yoongi wanted was someone to confide in, someone who could help him rekindle his passion and love for music — and for some reason, Yoongi had felt as if that someone was you.

After numerous shocking and quite embarrassing stories of Yoongi (that almost made you choke on your drink a few times), you had decided that it had become late enough to leave. Still, there was no sign of Yoongi, and you couldn’t help the speck of disappointment that had taken over your mind. Obviously, you were not someone of importance to him; you were a stranger. Yoongi certainly had no obligation to come and you were in no place to demand for his presence.

Thanking Hoseok, you pushed open the bar door to be greeted with the crisp wind that flew through the thin fabric of your shirt that you had, regretfully, thrown on. Rubbing your arms to try and produce some sort of heat, your eyes wandered to the beautifully painted sky; thick clouds that conquered the sky, oranges and pinks peeking through, as if it were sunlight penetrating the canopy of leaves in a forest.

You took a few steps, your attention directed upon the irregular shapes of the clouds and the various colours that you could point out, that you couldn’t see a figure walking towards you. Upon impact, you immediately apologised, only to be greeted with a hand on your shoulder.

“Your name?”