#and I used to blindly believe everything I heard on tv too especially back in 2014 when it also escalated violently

[disco-cola]

ok im boutta rant so hard. so honestly the reaction of people (or sometimes lack thereof) to the recent events between palestine and israel is so telling… so many people even in my own surroundings are so ignorant and stupid and one-sided. being in support of a free independent palestine and still acknowledging the ongoing nearly daily mistreatments of Palestinian people by the IDF in the gaza strip west bank etc. even now after those recent horrible attacks on israel (which are not condonable or justifiable ever to me) does not make you a „terror sympathizer“ or even „anti-semitic“ like be so for real. this is exactly what the western media has been trying to make people believe for all those past years and they‘re doing it again now and using it for propaganda- which is why it’s so important to ALSO get updates from Palestinian sources (I use eye.on.palestine and theimeu and byplestia on insta since getting back from the trip and actually learning about the situation in 2020 and they are doing educational work on top of news too but beware it also contains uncensored extremely disturbing footage that a lot of western media just casually completely refuses to report about). It’s this complete disregard and erasure of Palestinian struggles for the past nearly eight decades and history under israeli occupation. The complete justification of the counterattack and pledges of unwavering solidarity in the big western newspapers without telling the whole story NEUTRALLY. Like what I’ve read in newspaper articles in the past days is actually SCARY bc it sounds like absolute brainwashing and is not neutral truthful reporting at all. I will say it as it is I don’t give a flying fuck about any of those violent colonialist settlers losing their lives. I also dont give a shit about any violent hamas member who killed an israeli civilian involved bc they are just as racist and evil. Scum like that needs to be wiped off the earth so that maybe one day this place really can find a solution in peace. And I really do wish that for Palestinian AND Israeli people, for Jewish AND Muslim people. I‘m so sorry for all the innocent lives lost who get caught in the crossfire but you also can’t tell me, and I’ve literally read this today in a big newspaper that I quote „israeli forces will do anything to protect Palestinian civilian lives“ bc it doesn’t line up at all with the footage shared from targeted regions in Gaza and that „Palestinian terrorists will use their children as shields and then cry into cameras and we cannot show sympathy for them“ when all I’ve seen are traumatized mothers or fathers who couldn’t even walk or stand up straight bc they were crying so hard. It’s inhuman to not show empathy like hello? I can’t believe this is actually what they’re printing and people are buying into it bc they think this is the right and political correct thing to do.

Also don’t forget about the fact Israel has one of the top high tech modern military forces in the world. Israel has iron dome and david’s sling (and thank god they do bc it does prevent more senseless deaths) which are highly advanced air defense systems which are said to have a catch rate of 90%. they are not catching and preventing ALL missiles from hitting sadly but A LOT of them. however when israeli military fires missiles on gaza, they KNOW for sure they WILL hit. Even if they apparently give „warnings“ to the population before starting an attack. In Gaza at least 900 civilians have already died in in the last 3 days, reportedly half of whom are women and children. Please think about them too when you mourn the victims, even if their pictures are not shown in the newspapers.

[mydarkamalia]

tsc2

Jean heard cloth rustle as Nathaniel stood, but as soon as Nathaniel stepped away Jean blindly reached out for him. He barely recognized his own voice when he said, “Neil,” but it was enough the other man stopped. Jean’s fingertips finally found denim, but he didn’t try to get a good grip on the other man. “It was a good game.” “Yes,” Neil Josten said, with a smile in his voice. “It was, wasn’t it?”

The door creaked faintly as it opened and clicked even quieter when it closed again. Jean focused on the feel of Renee’s heartbeat and counted his breaths until it didn’t hurt so much to be alive.

They looked ridiculous and mismatched. They looked bright and alive and carefree, like they’d somehow forgotten everything that made them qualify for the Fox line-up.

“It is refreshing only to you. I have had to put up with it for as long as I have known him. He is a fool. ‘Exy as it is meant to be played’,” he said, sharp with mockery. “He would wither away if he was on their lineup; he is too ill-tempered to survive a day on their court.”

“Small talk is a pointless indulgence.” “I like to indulge,” Jeremy said with a dimpled smile. Kevin’s words mocked him in the back of his thoughts: “Some of them you like.” Jean cut off that line of thinking so fast he felt dizzy. It didn’t matter that Jeremy Knox was annoyingly easy to look at; Jean knew better than to look at another man too long. He’d learned that lesson the hard way and would not survive a revisit.

Ravens weren’t meant to be alone, and with Nathaniel here now he could feel just how worn away he was despite the Foxes’ attempt to always keep another body in the house with him. Nathaniel was different; he always would be. He wasn’t a Raven, but he was, same as Jean. He was Jean’s misplaced forever partner, an unfulfilled promise Jean had stopped believing in years ago.

“No, I’m angry,” Kevin said. Jean searched for the lie in his careless dismissal, but Kevin was too good an actor to give away the game. “I am tired of being called second when I am better than he will ever be. Tonight they’ll see how wrong they were about us.”

“He hasn’t played a clean game in years,” Kevin admitted, “but he knows how to follow orders. If you tell him to submit, he will.” “Literally the most awkward way you could’ve worded it,” Jeremy said. He meant to lighten the mood, but Kevin only shrugged and said, “You’ll understand when you meet him.”

if Jean signed something that said he had to behave to be allowed to stay on the lineup, he could bite his tongue and stay his fists. It’d piss him off beyond the telling, but he could follow orders if it meant surviving another day. Without that black-and-white command his nature would get the better of him sooner or later, and then there’d be no saving him. They’d yank him from the lineup to save themselves and he’d be as good as dead.

but joining the Raven lineup at sixteen had been a living nightmare. They’d all been so much bigger and stronger than he was; he’d had to rely on simply being better. Getting shown up by a child had not endeared them at all to him, especially when he’d spent a week climbing into bed with them. If not for Zane, Jean’s freshman year would have been significantly uglier, he was sure.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said quietly. He held out his hand. Jean glowered at him for a moment, but Kevin was willing to outwait him. Finally Jean relaxed his grip and set his hand in Kevin’s, palm-up. Kevin curled his fingers gently around it so he could turn Jean’s arm this way and that. Jean didn’t want to face those bruises and scabs again, so he pointed his stare past Kevin at the dark TV. Kevin tapped Jean’s fingers in a silent command, and Jean made a fist in response. It hurt like hell, but he could do it. Kevin sighed, exhaustion or relief.

“You did this to us,” Jean accused him as Kevin finally pried his hands away from his face. “You should have beat this wildness out of him once you learned his name.” “I couldn’t,” was the weary response. “Everyone who has tried to tame him has failed.

Kevin caught hold of his face with both hands, forcing Jean to look at him when Jean tried to turn away. “Breathe,” Kevin said, from a thousand miles away.

“You have a choice,” Jean insisted. “Kill me and let me be done with this.” Kevin’s expression was forbidding. “You made me a promise.” “Fuck you. You have no right to hold me to it.” “But I will.” Kevin stared him down, and Jean hated, hated that he was the first to look away.

“He wanted to know why Kevin ran and I didn’t,” Jean said, swallowing his pills with some water. He should have left it there, but Jean turned his glass over and over between his fingers. “Riko’s father gave him up as soon as he was born, uninterested in a second-born son. Mine didn’t hesitate to sell me off if it meant his debts were squared away. Despite that, Kevin never once doubted you’d take him in. He wasn’t foolish enough to say as much where Riko could hear him, but he said it to me. I laughed at him. I’d never taken him for a dreamer.”

“You have twenty-one good ribs,” Thea said. “For now.” There was a fifty-percent chance she was bluffing, but Jean tilted toward her anyway and said, “Do it, then. It wouldn’t take much; we all know I have brittle bones.”

[happypeachwhispers]

Fries Meet Guys: ALEX HØGH ANDERSEN - I DIDN'T THINK I WAS A PERSON WHO SHOULD TALK ABOUT ANXIETY - Part One: Childhood, Parenting, Socializing

Just a couple words about this work of labor, thank you to everyone who encouraged me, helped me and believed in this translation project. Some parts were more hard than others to make sense of, I appreciate some input if you feel so inclined. It will be posted in five parts, weekly. I really did my very best. Enjoy!

Taglist: @ivarsrideordie

We invited you to the studio today, because we would like to be a little wiser about what it means to be a man and what it means to be a man to you. But for a start, we just have some classic questions. What's your name? How old are you?

Hi, my name is Alex. I'll be 25 this summer, I was born in '94. I come from a small town called Skælskør in West Jutland.

What is your profession?

I am an autodidact actor.

And what is your favorite song?

All the songs by Frank Ocean.

What's your favorite movie?

I simply can't answer that. But I talked to a friend today, we watched In Bruges, a movie with Colin Farrell and it was fucking fun.

What's your favorite dish?

It was chicken thighs for a long time, when I was a kid I liked them cooked in the oven for 25/30 minutes at 200 Celsius degrees. You put a little bit of salt on, and then they are ready, mouthwatering and delicious. But not my favorite anymore, today I'd probably say sushi.

We have given homework to Alex, we asked him to think about the word man and now we are very curious to hear what his thoughts are and what he came up with.

I was thinking of a hell of a lot of things, and at the same time, I was thinking zero things. I think it's so hard to talk about this and to feel that you are somehow obligated to talk about it, but I manged to write something down. So I should be able to talk about this. But it is so hard to feel that one has to generalize in any way. But you shouldn't, really. You can only answer for yourself.

When I come to think of a meaning of the word man, I come to think that I couldn't help but imagine some American culture that we all seem to follow blindly that's based on having the coolest clothes and going to clubs to hook up. Or you just see them wanting to be basketball players and driving sports cars. It's either rappers, basketball players or actors. I wasn't a great guy at all and I was heavily influenced by it, but then I came to realize it's not for me. It's not supposed to be like that at all.

So what's the kind of man that gives priority to those things?

The very first thing that comes to my mind is that they are drawn to that lifestyle cause it means having a lot of money, high status and living without a care in the world. You're a breadwinner. Instead I often worry in terms of where I am here in Copenhagen in 2019 and the group of friends I have here and with whom I spend my time with.

So there have been some people in your life, who have been carefree motherfuckers.

Both things. But I like to go to my dad right away and he is not a carefree person at all. But he is also not a man who has struggled with some of the things that I struggled with. Fighting with anxiety for example. And as I know many of my friends struggle with men but as women. And that's it. My dad says he doesn't know about it because he's from a different generation or maybe I've just been unlucky. He never experienced any of that. Before he could worry, he was a grown man who had to support his family. He has had the same job for 25 years now and then goes home, works in the garden, cuddles with my mother and travels around the world and then comes back home. But I would also say that he has not been very manly, he is actually quite soft many times. I can remember my little sister's confirmation where he was supposed to give a speech but didn't get through it, he was feeling emotional. Mom always keeps a watchful eye on him, especially when he talks about breast cancer and what she has been through.

You described your father as the example of a man you saw growing up, but that was your experience as a boy. What did it mean to you growing up? How did that shape the man you are today?

I think my dad has given me a lot of really cool stuff. His presence in my life gave me a lot. His sense of humor first of all, because he's one of the funniest people I know, and he can definitely be funny on a bad day, too. I love him. I hope my sense of humor is as funny as his. Also he has always been really good at taking things easy. So even when it gets tough, he helps heal all the wounds. He was a very important presence in my life, he has being a really good father and I always think of my dad as the primary example of a man. Even the soft side of my dad. When I talked to him and had heart to heart conversations, he showed me his vulnerable side. And I learned that being vulnerable is ok. That's a really good thing, I think. There has always been room for me, to express myself. He hasn't been one of those patriarchal fathers in a carnally old society, so out of touch and never talking to the children.

But what has it meant to you to have such a father? Where was there room for you or your feelings?

It meant everything in the whole world. He has always been an example. He was supportive of my dreams and  has always been there for me. When I started to do theater, he drove me from Skælskør to Copenhagen from the age of 11 to 17. So six years, where my dad comes and picks me up after work, he picks me up in the afternoon after I finish school or high school. And then he drives me to Copenhagen so that I can do theater, sits and waits for three hours while I do theater, and then he drives me home again. And when he's home, he goes straight to bed because he's going to work the day after. He did it for 6 years in a row, it is very touching and beautiful. He has been a great father, so I also hope that I can become an equally good father at some point, because I have had an absolutely wonderful role model. Him.

This is what you remember and treasure from your childhood. Is there a community at the time that you've been a part of?

Well, the schoolyard. It was football with the boys and I've always played both football and basketball. Football was big for us boys, it was everything. We were always thinking: “who is the best and who is the worst?”. We played all the time and that challenged the competition “gene” I have in me, which is pretty extreme, it was all about me trying to do better than the two or three other guys in my class who were about as good. We were all at the same level. We have always been competitive since primary school.

Probably was a way of socializing.

Yes, I think so. We were such innocent boys and then we became a team. But it's that sense of being wild and free and learning how to win and lose. And then tomorrow is a brand new day to play a new game. Carelessness is such a big thing when you're little. Something you could well miss when you're in your mid-twenties having a lot of problems.

When you say that you mean today you're a completely different man or better, a wiser but soft man with challenges and worries?

I think where I came from was from a really, really nice family. There was room for everything.

That feels like winning.

Yes, that's how you win. We didn't understand many feelings being boys that young. But I remember this talent show I was a part of, when I was 11 years old, it was a tv program where I sang and danced. It was different from what country kids experience, you have just sports there. My classmates came to see me and they were extremely supportive, I was so happy, it was fantastic. There was the whole class in there with banners and everything and the amazing experience so wonderful. But strange. Then a couple months later I had an argument with one of my teammates on the football field, he told me that just because I was on a tv show didn't mean I was better than him. I still remember those words, I was shocked, I remember those words like I heard them a week ago.

Kids, it was just kids, but I felt such a sense of shame, did I really act like I thought I was better than him? No matter who the hell you talk to, people who did something that made them a little different from the others, feel this way. People who might be famous or what the hell. They probably always feel completely calm, especially if I imagine me at 11, I just wanted to go back to school to play football. I did not attach any further value to it. I did not feel that me being on a tv show could have caused problems. But apparently it did. I spent the next six years of my life after that “incident” in Copenhagen, at the Eventyrteatret, feeling more at home than ever.

Why did you feel more at home?

Because they were just like me, crazy just like me, energetic just like me and loved dancing and singing just like me.

END PART ONE

Ask me in messages if you wanna be tagged // Feel free to like, comment and share, thank you!

[tiggyloo]

3AM

here’s a cute connverse fic I wrote (also up on AO3 and FF.net which are linked in my description)

~~~~

Connie finally convinced her parents to let Steven sleep over at their house

~~~~

Connie had finally convinced her parents to let Steven stay the night, without there being some kind of horrible weather to back it up. She'd said it took hours to convince them, with a myriad of excuses and a heck of a lot of bargaining. But, she did it, and now Steven was with Connie in her room.

He was only allowed in there with her if they kept the door open. He was also allowed to sleep in her room, but he had to sleep on the floor--which he was going to do anyway? But Connie's parents still felt the need to state that as a rule. They were allowed to close the door when they went to sleep, though, so there was that, but only when they went to sleep.

"I still can't believe your parents are actually letting me stay here tonight," Steven mused as he wandered around Connie's room. This was actually the first time he'd ever been in her room, and Connie found his curiosity quite amusing.

"Yeah, I know. Don't expect it to happen again anytime soon, though," she said from her bed. With how much effort she had to put in just to get this, she honestly didn't even want to do this again. Not for a while. It was exhausting.

"So, anyway, what do you wanna do? I don't usually stay up past ten or ten thirty, so we don't really have that long to do anything. But I'd still like to pass the time with something," she said, kicking her legs.

Steven paused in his exploring and thought for a minute. What even was there to do? She didn't have a TV in her room, and she didn't really have much in terms of games--other than board and card games, which wouldn't be too bad. But they'd already played a bunch of those since he'd gotten here. It had been fun, and her parents had actually joined them for a few games, but he wasn't really sure if he wanted to play more of that right now.

He finally thought of something and took out his phone before going over to Connie. He got on the bed beside her and she watched him pull something up on the screen.

"So, I have this game that I play with the Gems sometimes. It's one of those trivia games, but it's like...it's not really the kind of stuff you'd expect? It's got a lot of random and super obscure and funny stuff, and you have to pick the correct option from a few different ones. We're not very good at it, it's just funny to see how right or wrong we are," Steven explained as he navigated the app.

"Huh. That does sound fun," Connie said with a quiet laugh. "I know a lot of random trivia, comes with all the books I've read. I'm not sure if it's to the level of what you've implied here, though."

"Well, I guess we'll have to find out," Steven said as he hit the "play" button.

They played this game for a while, laughing almost hysterically at some of the trivia questions. Connie actually ended up knowing the answers to a decent amount of them, too, which shocked them both. When they finally remembered to check the time it was ten minutes after eleven.

"Oh! Gosh, we need to get to sleep," Connie gasped, hopping off the bed. "Why didn't my parents say anything? They never let me stay up this late."

"Maybe they didn't want to interrupt us having fun?" Steven suggested. It was a possibility. They definitely couldn't have just forgotten with how loud the two had been.

“Hmm…I guess so? It’s not like they haven’t loosened up over the last few years, so it’s not out of the question. Let's still get to sleep before it gets much later, though."

Steven nodded and they both went and cleaned up for the night.

Once everything was taken care of, Connie closed her door and climbed into bed, while Steven shuffled into his sleeping bag. Connie switched her lights off once Steven was situated and he heard her lie down.

A few minutes went by and he heard Connie start to move again. She was scooting closer and when he opened his eyes he saw her face peeking out over the edge of the bed. He gave her a confused look, then her arm slid over the edge and she made a grabbing motion with her hand. 

Steven let out an amused snort and lifted his arm. Given their positions, holding Connie's hand was a little awkward, but they managed. She scooted a little more so that her arm could hang a bit lower, which made holding onto her somewhat easier at least. She squeezed his hand before adjusting her pillow so that she could comfortably lay her head down.

She closed her eyes to sleep and Steven just gazed up at her for a few minutes, a soft expression on his face. Soon after he started to doze off and then they were both fast asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sometime after, Steven was woken up by a gentle tugging on his sleeve. His eyes blinked open and he squinted up at Connie, who seemed almost wide awake. He rubbed his eyes and turned to look out the window. It was still pitch black outside.

"What time is it?" Steven asked as his head lazily rolled back over to face the girl above him.

"It's like...three in the morning."

He stared at her with half closed eyes.

"…Why did you wake me up at three in the morning?"

"Um..."

Steven could just barely see her face darken with a blush.

"I'm, um...I'm cold and don't have another blanket," she murmured into her pillow. "So, I was wondering if you'd maybe, come up here?"

They looked at each other for a few seconds before Steven slowly sat up with a half-asleep, grumbling moan. He gave a big stretch and scratched the back of his head before unzipping the sleeping bag.

"Hurry uuup," Connie said and he mumbled a "yeah, yeah," before grabbing onto the bed and pulling himself to his feet. He waited for Connie to move over and got under the blankets, then let himself fall onto his side, causing the mattress to squeak, and Connie huffed.

"You're so dramatic."

"Nah, just tired."

She chuckled and came closer, and Steven put his arms around her and pulled her in against his chest.

"You know your parents are going to kill us if they see this," Steven murmured into her hair. She snuggled against him and hummed softly.

"It'll be okay. My parents don't just barge into my room, especially if my door is closed. Don't worry."

She felt his chest rumble in acknowledgement and he kissed the top of her head. She giggled and curled her fingers into his shirt as Steven rubbed her back with his thumb.

A few quiet minutes went by like this before Connie moved again, getting an annoyed groan from Steven. "Connie, go to sleep," he grumbled, gently shoving her face closer against his chest. She held back a laugh and pushed against him to free herself from the fabric of his shirt.

"Can I ask for something first?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Nooo. Go to sleep."

Connie snickered at Steven's whining and nudged herself away from him so that she could move upwards on the bed. She laid her head in front of his and he made a noise, but didn't open his eyes.

His eyebrows knit together a moment later and he scrunched up his nose when she poked it. He still didn't open his eyes, though. Instead, he brought his hand up and blindly put it over Connie's face, then gave a push. She grunted when he did this, but had an amused face when Steven took his hand away.

He had his face hidden in the pillow now and Connie huffed again, turning on to her back and crossing her arms. "Come on, don't make me beg."

Steven mumbled something into the pillow.

"...Huh?"

He turned his head just enough for Connie to see one of his eyes. "I said it's cute when you beg."

Connie gave him a mock offended gasp and she saw him smile.

"Okay, give me a good reason for why I should kiss you."

"Uhh, because you love me?"

"Eeehhh."

She turned and shoved him with her foot, to which he responded with a breathy chuckle.

"You're the worst."

He just shrugged.

"You're really gunna make me beg for this, aren't you?"

"You woke me up at three AM."

She pouted but it was a fair point.

After a moment she crawled over to Steven, got on top of him, and flopped down onto his back. He groaned again as she messed with his hair.

"Come on, please? Just one."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Tired."

"That hasn't stopped you before."

"Mm."

Connie yelped a second later as Steven lifted himself up and flipped over. She squirmed underneath him and managed to move him just enough to get her head out.

"Hey!"

"Shhhh."

She puffed her cheeks and started squirming again.

"You're heavy."

"Yep."

"I hate you."

"Uh-huh."

Connie sighed and gave up on trying to get him off. She kind of deserved this anyway.

Quite some time went by and Connie thought that Steven had actually fallen back to sleep. She pushed against him again but this time tried pushing with her legs as well, and managed to slide him off a few inches more.

"Mmmmnnn."

"Oh, so you are still awake."

"Unfortunately."

He rolled himself off the rest of the way before rearranging himself back under the blanket.

Connie did the same, then sat up and frowned at the boy next to her. "You know, the sooner you give me a kiss, the sooner you can go back to sleep."

He seemed to consider that for a while. Then, with yet another groan, he got up. Connie giggled as he stretched his back like a cat before sitting up.

"You make a good argument."

"So...can I have that kiss then?"

"I guess."

She grinned and crawled over to his waiting arms.

"You're such a nuisance," Steven told her before finally giving her what she wanted.

She smiled into the kiss, which was soft and tired, as she wrapped her arms around Steven's shoulders. She felt him slide an arm down and he started to move, so she broke the kiss to watch him.

Steven carefully lowered himself down onto the bed, guiding Connie along with him. She hovered over him now, gazing down into his sleepy, loving eyes.

He reached up and brushed his fingers along her cheek, then gently pulled her closer. He brought her in for another kiss, and she let herself sink into him as his arms wrapped around her back.

It was well past 3AM now, but Steven didn't seem to care about that anymore. Right now he just cared about the kisses, the feeling of Connie’s skin against his finger tips, and the tickle of her breath on his face whenever they came apart.

Connie had her fingers tangled in his curly hair as they kissed and cooed and made gentle movements against each other for neither knows how long. She reveled Steven's touch, his closeness, and she wasn't about to stop it by looking at the clock.

Steven's hands had started to travel lower and lower now, sliding down her back, until Connie had to cut him off with a quick, "Hey!" which he quietly laughed at.

"I'm just teasing, you know I wouldn't do that."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "I know."

They kissed again, and Steven put a firm hand on her back. He turned, ending the kiss for just a few seconds to carefully place Connie down beneath him.

"I thought you were tired?" Connie said with a smug look on her face. Steven didn't answer, just went in for another kiss. And another, and another.

Connie was full of giggles by the end of all this as Steven pressed little kisses along her neck and jaw line and all over her smiling face. He'd become so much more affectionate toward her over the last several months, which she definitely wasn't going to complain about, because it meant more of this.

Connie felt him trailing kisses back down her neck, along her collarbone, and over to the exposed skin above her chest. She tried to quiet her giggling by covering her mouth when Steven made a shushing sound but that didn't last long because he went back to kissing her face.

She gave him a soft shove and said, "You're going to get us in trouble!"

"You're the one making all the noise," he teased before leaning in to start kissing her again.

Connie, still giggling, held his face back as he tried to get closer, causing him to start laughing as well.

"Shhhh, Steven!"

They both had a hand over the other's mouth, trying to stop themselves from laughing, which was working, but barely. The hands were removed once they'd both finally calmed down—which took about five minutes—and Steven abandoned his position above Connie to lie down beside her.

"Okay, what time is it?" he asked and she sat up a little so that she could see the clock.

"Oh, gosh, it's almost four thirty."

"Ah."

Connie settled back down and turned her head to look at Steven, who was looking right back. For a while this was how they stayed, then Steven lifted himself up again.

"Okay, one more and then we go to sleep," he said and Connie started giggling again.

"Sure. But make it a good one."

"Can do."

Steven bent down and gave her one last kiss. It was long and deep as he weaved his fingers into Connie’s messy hair and she gently pushed herself up against him.

The final separation was slow as Steven picked himself up, left a kiss on Connie's forehead, and returned to her side.

"Was that good enough?" he asked. She snickered and nodded.

"Okay, good, because I'm starting to feel tired again."

Connie smiled and stretched her arms above her head, then held them out for Steven. He smiled and moved closer, nuzzling into her small chest as she put her arms around him. He reached down and grabbed the blanket, pulled it up, then slipped his hand under Connie's shirt to rest his hand on her back, which she stifled a laugh over.

"Good night, Steven. I love you."

"I love you too, Connie. Now don’t wake me up again."

She chuckled and hugged him a little closer. "I won’t."

[mksc77]

I need another blanket for Christmas/winter prompts? Thank you!

Thanks so much for the ask, @commanderraydorsass!

December 19, 2019

Sharon jerked awake when she heard Andy's alarm go off. LA was experiencing a bit of a cold snap, and she was more than happy to be able to stay under the covers. Andy grumbled about it being cold and gave her a suffering look as he climbed out of bed and started for the shower. With him up, Sharon immediately rolled over to his side of the bed, relishing his familiar scent and the warm spot he'd left. She dozed off until she heard him come back in, dressed for work. "Okay, now you're just rubbing it in. This isn't fair."

Sharon sleepily opened an eye in his direction. "It's warmer over here and smells like you...You're only working a half-day, anyway, and then you can come back and keep me warm."

"Ha, ha." Andy leaned down to kiss her. "I love you."

"Love you...hold on." She blindly reached up for his face until he was leaning beside her again, wanting another whiff of his new cologne. "'Kay. Bye."

Sharon got up a little while later and slipped into her warmest robe. The kitchen still smelled faintly of coffee, but she knew Rusty had probably studied for most of the night and left for his last exam of the semester before 6:30 to get more last-minute studying done at school. Still, she confirmed that his car was gone to make sure he hadn't crawled back in bed and overslept before putting a coffee pod in the Keurig. She wasn't going to make another pot just for herself, and the coffee that was left wasn't exactly fresh.

It was too cold to take her coffee out to the porch like she usually did, so Sharon settled in a bar stool and looked out at the gray, misty morning. She was startled by a knock at the garage door, but she looked over and waved in her neighbor, who was dressed for the hike they had planned. She looked at the clock on the microwave. "Oh, my, did we say 8:00? I thought we said 8:30."

Debra shook her head. "No, we said 8:30, we're just out of creamer, and I wanted some coffee first."

Sharon finished her granola bar and got out a coffee mug and the creamer. "You know where the pods are, help yourself to whatever you want. I'll get dressed while you're doing that."

Coffee in hand, she went to her bedroom and changed into her workout gear. It was chilly outside, so she looked through her drawers for her warmest sweatshirt. Once her mug was empty, she tied up her hair and brushed her teeth. Debra was finishing her coffee by the time she got back to the kitchen. "Ready to go?"

The hiking trail was a couple of blocks from their neighborhood, so it wasn't long before they were back home. It was after 10:00, and Sharon's granola bar was long gone. "I know this defeats the purpose, but I wouldn't mind cooking breakfast if you want to come back over. I'm getting hungry again."

Debra shrugged. "Sounds good to me. I have stuff for mimosas, I'll run home and get it. Need anything else?"

"I think we have everything. See you in a minute." Sharon stopped at the end of the driveway to get the mail. The Christmas cards had stopped in the last couple of days, but there seemed to be a couple of stragglers in today's mail. She opened the cards first and added them to the bulletin board beside the refrigerator that was now covered with Marie, Nicole's and Dean's children, Mark, her siblings' and friends' grandchildren, and the children of some of Emily's and Ricky's high school friends. The last one she opened was from Patrice, and she laughed at the image of Provenza's face photoshopped into The Grinch and Patrice's into Cindy Lou Who.

She got her Christmas playlist started on Google Home and was pulling things out of the refrigerator when the alarm system beeped. Debra came in with another neighbor. "I found a wanderer on the way back," she explained.

"Hi, Caroline," Sharon greeted as she started a pot of coffee.

"Hi, Sharon. I can't believe you guys went hiking this morning. I took one look outside and rolled right back over in bed."

"It was tempting," Sharon agreed, "but I feel better now that we've done it. I've been eating like crap this week, and next week will just be worse. I've at least exercised every day, but I probably won't next week...Is it cold in here? I can turn the heat on if I need to."

Caroline shook her head. "God, no. Mike's been bitching about turning on the heat since it got colder this week, but I'm finally not hot all the time, for once. My doctor took me off of hormone replacement, and Mike might miss it more than I do. I wasn't freezing him to death while I was on it, and I would've humped the sink if I could. That stuff had me wanting it all the time."

Sharon laughed. "I remember my sister saying the same thing several years ago. And I'm surprised Andy hasn't whined about wanting to turn on the heat, but I'm sure he will soon."

"On that note, I think it's time for mimosas." Debra opened the champagne and started filling glasses. "I brought my homemade strawberry jelly, too."

"Do you know the way to my heart, or what?" Sharon buttered some bread and slipped the slices into the toaster. "I'm going to need a detox after New Years."

Once the kitchen was clean and her friends were gone, Sharon started a large pot of vegetable soup. Andy came in a little after 1:00 and wrapped his arms around her waist as she was stirring it at the stove. "Mmm, smells good."

"What? Me, or the soup?" Sharon turned to kiss him. "I'm kidding, I know I don't smell great. Debra and I went hiking this morning."

"I'm not complaining." Sharon's playlist was still going, and the next song had Andy twirling her around the kitchen. They're singing deck the halls, but it's not like Christmas at all, 'cause I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year...

She kissed Andy again before pulling away from him. "I need to take a shower, you mind watching the soup?"

"Sure."

Sharon pulled her top over her head on the way to their bathroom and turned the shower on before discarding her clothes in the hamper. It wasn't five minutes before she felt a slight chill as the shower door was opened. "Andy!"

"I'm going to be watching chick flicks all afternoon, so you can let me have a little fun first."

"But my soup..." Sharon protested with mock concern.

"It's on low. It'll be fine." Andy took the loofah from her hand and took over for her. She relaxed in his arms and let him run it over her. When they got out, Sharon dried off and pulled on her favorite sweatpants and a UCLA sweatshirt. Andy was getting a bowl of soup, but she wasn't hungry yet. After plugging in the Christmas tree lights and adding a cranberry-scented bar to her scent warmer, she settled in the recliner with a couple of blankets and flipped through the streaming options on the TV for Love Actually.

"You're not hungry?" Andy asked, situating himself beside her with his soup.

Sharon shook her head. "Debra, Caroline, and I cooked breakfast just a couple of hours ago. I'll get some in a little bit."

Andy sighed dramatically. "Must be nice."

"Oh, it is...But I can't wait for you to join me. You don't have too much longer...Andy, seriously, your soup's going to get cold!" Sharon said when he kissed her for what seemed like the hundredth time since he got home.

"We're under the mistletoe. That's Christmas's rule, not mine."

Sharon rolled her eyes. Andy had strategically placed mistletoe in several places in the house where they often ended up side by side. "This place is crawling with mistletoe, it's damn near impossible to not be under it."

Andy grinned. "Yeah, that was the point. It's not often that your love for rules works in my favor."

"I do like the rules," Sharon murmured, returning the kiss. "Especially this one."

Andy finished his soup and curled up beside Sharon, trying to get warm. "Sha-aron, it's freezing in here!" The gas logs were on, but they hadn't done much good yet. "Just because you're cold-blooded doesn't mean the rest of us are!"

"It's not freezing, Andy."

"It's close enough. I need another blanket." Andy got a soft brown throw from the chest against the wall and got comfortable again in the chair. He was always a fan of Sharon's appearance, no matter what, but he liked her the best this way. With no makeup, comfortable clothes, and the scent of her soap instead of perfume, he always had a hard time keeping his hands off of her. Love Actually had only been on for a half hour, but he was already lost. "I can never keep up with this movie."

Sharon nudged him as his hand wandered under her blanket. "If you'd pay attention to the movie, for once, then you could follow it."

"Yeah, because that's what my mind is on right now. The movie."

Emily called a few minutes later, asking if she could drop off Marie to take a nap while she finished up her shopping. Sharon met her in the driveway and unbuckled the fifteen-month-old from her car seat. "Hey, precious! Are you going to stay with Gammy for a little bit?" Marie could barely hold her eyes open, but she smiled and reached for Sharon.

"Thanks, Mom," Emily said. "I didn't think it would take me this long, but I want to finish today, and she wasn't having it."

Sharon lifted Marie into her arms and rubbed her back. "It's okay. You know I'll keep her any time. Be careful, honey."

"I will. I should be back in a couple of hours."

Sharon checked Marie's diaper as they walked inside, pausing by the thermostat to switch on the heat. "Let's get you changed, and then I believe it's naptime."

Marie didn't protest at either suggestion like she normally would have and lay still as Sharon got her changed. Andy gave her a knowing look, having heard the heat kick on, as she sat in the recliner beside him with Marie lying on her shoulder. "Oh, so that's what it took to get some warmth in here." His expression softened when Marie gave him a sleepy smile. "Hey, wild girl. We'll play when you wake up, okay?"

Sharon shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I won't need you to keep me warm later."

"Never mind," Andy quickly amended.

Sharon draped her blanket over Marie, rubbing her back and rocking as her eyes began to close. Obviously a little cold, the baby curled into her as she fell asleep. With a contented sigh, Sharon lay against Andy. "I'm so happy," she couldn't help but comment.

"Retirement agrees with you, no question," Andy agreed. She'd had more time for her family and friends than ever before, and she was always glowing when she came home from, or even talked about, the charities she volunteered for downtown a few days a week. "I love seeing you so happy."

"Hmm." Marie's warm weight and heavy breathing were starting to put Sharon to sleep, too. It was warmer by the time the movie was over, so she decided to put her down. "Will you please set up the pack'n play in our room?"

"Sure." Andy carefully edged himself away from them and walked toward their bedroom.

Sharon waited a couple of minutes before following him with the sleeping toddler in her arms. Andy had just finished, so she laid Marie down and lightly patted her stomach before grabbing the monitor and leaving the room. Emily and Emmett had gotten more than one monitor set as gifts, so one of them stayed at Sharon's and Andy's.

Next on the movie list was White Christmas, and Rusty came in from his exam and collapsed on the couch as it was starting. Sharon pried her head away from Andy's shoulder and looked over at him. "Hi, honey, how was your exam? Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Mmph. Remind me to check the exam schedule before I register for classes," Rusty whined. "Even 1Ls didn't have any this late. I should've just gone to Bainbridge's office and bent over. It would've been faster and less painful."

Sharon's eyes widened. "Rusty!"

"Oh. Sorry. Forgot you were Mom," he mumbled against the back of the couch.

He'd started studying for finals around Halloween and was in the top fifteen percent of his class, so Sharon doubted it was all that bad. "I'm sure you did fine, honey."

For the next couple of hours, Sharon and Andy dozed off and on until they heard Marie babbling through the monitor. "I'll get her," Andy volunteered.

Sharon sat up and rubbed her eyes, surprised to see that White Christmas was almost over. Its familiar score and dialogue had lulled her to sleep more than once since it started. She was starting to get hungry, so she got a bowl of vegetable soup and came back to the living room. One of many good things about living in a neighborhood again was having neighbors who liked to garden and share their excess vegetables and fresh tomato juice. She usually preferred not to eat on the furniture, but the dreary day called for it, and Rusty was unconscious and unable to call her out.

She had just gotten The Holiday started when Andy came back in with a drowsy Marie in his arms. She was obsessed with Andy, but she always wanted Sharon when she was sleepy. "Ga," she whimpered, holding her arms out for Sharon.

"Come here, baby." Sharon took her from Andy and patted her back as she nuzzled into her shoulder. Marie lay on Sharon's shoulder for a few minutes, but it didn't take long for her to perk up and look around for Andy.

"It's about time you come see Papa!" Andy picked her up and pulled some of her toys out before getting on the floor with her. He gave the TV a pained look and turned to Sharon. "When's it time for Die Hard?"

Sharon rolled her eyes. "You and Rusty can watch it while I'm at dinner tonight." She and her closest friends had been doing an earring exchange every Christmas for over thirty years now, and they were going out for dinner for that tonight.

Rusty woke up a little while later and joined Andy and Marie on the floor, and Andy took the opportunity to get back in the recliner with Sharon. The blankets were no longer necessary, but they still curled up together. Rusty hadn't noticed the change in temperature when he got home, but he did now that he was more alert. "I just noticed that it's not ten below in here. Andy, you finally got Mom to cave?"

Andy shook his head. "That would take a power greater than me." He nodded at Marie. "It took the rugrat coming over to save us from freezing to death."

Rusty nodded. "I should've known."

Later that evening, Sharon got ready and slipped into her favorite casual red dress. Or maybe it was her favorite because she liked to tease Andy in it, she couldn't remember. Andy gave her a suffering look as she walked into the kitchen with her clutch. "Putting that dress on and then leaving me isn't good for my blood pressure."

Sharon kissed his cheek. "We'll have to do something about that when I get home," she murmured, wiping off traces of lipstick she left on his cheek.

"Oh, god," Rusty moaned from the bar. "I think I'd rather take another exam than listen to to you guys be disgusting."

Sharon got home a couple of hours later and changed into her pajamas before getting a glass of wine and joining Andy in the living room. He moved over in the recliner so she could sit with him.

"You guys do know that there's other furniture in here," Rusty pointed out, looking disturbed.

Sharon shrugged. "Who needs it?"

"Oh, gross." Rusty scrolled through the guide on the TV. "Ugh, Badge of Justice, no thank you. I'm still not over it."

Andy ran his hand over his face. "Oh, god, here we go."

Sharon sipped her wine. "I'm not, either. Sherry dying would've been tolerable if it made sense and wasn't done as a result of an adult using human life as a bargaining chip and then throwing a fit when he didn't get his way--I know it's fictional," she said, anticipating Andy's thoughts, "but he acted like a child about it."

"Yeah, look at Madam Secretary," Rusty added. "It was canceled, but Mom said that the last season was her favorite. The writers managed to write a great season that the fans would love even though they knew it was canceled. Huff knew he was going to piss everyone off, but he went on and on about how it was the 'season loyal fans deserved and they were going to be happy with it,' and then blamed them for reacting the way they did."

Sharon shrugged. "Well, not every show can have a woman creator, but even the ones that don't should at least be honest and stand by their decisions instead of blaming the network and fans when people rightfully get upset. He flat-out said that no major characters would die after Baylor, so a lot of fans had a false sense of security about Sherry and thought that the dropped hints were just Huff being dramatic."

"I can't believe it's been two years..." Rusty looked at the date on his phone. "Today. I remember because it was my other mom's birthday--damn it, I haven't called her yet."

Once he was out of the room, Sharon wrapped her arms around Andy's neck and lay on his shoulder. "How are you? Still cold?" She asked meaningfully.

Andy nodded. "Frigid."

Sharon got up and offered her hand. "Let's go see what we can do about that."

"Right behind you, commander."

[justkending]

Used to Be Overlooked. Chapter 27.

Series Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N ?)

A/N: Ok everyone! I think I’ll only have about 1-2 more chapters of this series! I’m not sure how long they will be, but one may be the epilogue. Please let me know what you think of this chapter!!! I kinda got carried away...

Word Count: 4100+

Series Masterlist

Chapter 27:

The car ride back to the house was quiet, tense, and uncomfortable. Instead of your mind racing at a hundred miles an hour to figure things out, it went practically brain dead. You were too exhausted to process everything that went down, and just wanted to curl up in bed and not come out for hours. 

Steve and Tony shared a look after seeing you blindly stare out the window. It was almost like your soul had left your body and left a shell of a person behind. 

Steve wanted to pull you in and hold you to give you the energy you needed. He wanted to switch places with you so you never had to feel the pain that you were feeling right this instant. He hated seeing the bright and happy person you usually were, completely gone. 

You finally arrived at the compound and as soon as the car was in park, you didn’t wait for someone to open the door. You got out, and headed straight for your room. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to pretend that what just happened, didn’t happened. You just wanted to sleep and hopefully forget about it for a few hours. Hell, a few minutes if you could manage. 

You walked by a worried Steve who tried coming to your aid, but remembered how he shouldn’t suffocate you. Especially at a time like this. Wanda and Tony also were going to step in and say something, but you walked past them too fast before they could. Lastly, Bucky kept his distance. He knew exactly where you were mentally. He wasn’t going to stop you on your mission to your bedroom. 

Luckily, you made it to your room without any one stopping you. Immediately changing into a sweatshirt and shorts, you climbed into your bed, and cocooned yourself into the giant comforter. You sat there for about 10 minutes with your mind blank. Then almost like a slap to the face, the thoughts that you had kept at bay hit you hard. You found yourself crying and not stopping yourself from doing so. You wanted to let it out. It felt good to let it out. 

About 30 minutes of coming home and crying, you heard the slightest sound of someone knocking on the door.

You sniffled away some tears to and quieted yourself to make sure you weren’t just hearing anything. 

There was a pause before another rap on the door, and the low voice of someone came through.

“Y/N?” 

It was Steve. You were too tired to try and push him away, and something in you told you to not fight him. 

“Y/N, can I come in? It’s just me,” he asked.

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. You sniffled a few more tears, and with a hoarse voice, spoke up.

“Y-Yeah, come in.”

The door opened a crack before slowly opening all the way and showing Steve in sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He had a tray of things in his hands, but you didn’t pay much attention to what was on it. 

“Hey sweetheart. I, uh, I brought you some things. You need to take your pain meds, and-” he stopped when he saw you crumpled in a ball at the head of the bed. He heard you crying and he was just going to drop things off and then let you be, but seeing you broken like this wasn’t what he thought he would see. “Y/N,” he said in an endearing way before he placed the tray on the dresser and made his way to you.

You sniffled the few tears you weren’t able to push back, and brought your sweatshirt to your face to wipe away any evidence of sadness. 

“I, uh, I’m not doing too hot right now,” you forced a fake laugh. “I c-can’t really… Comprehend everything and-” you stopped as your voice began to waver. You weren’t going to make it through the rest of the sentence without crying. 

So you didn’t push it down and instead let Steve see the vulnerable side of you. You broke down crying and in an instant Steve had you engulfed in his arms again. He moved to the empty side of the bed and pulled you into his side. He threw your feet over his lap and let you form into a ball on him. 

You didn’t fight him or the rush of tears marking your face. You let it all out. He sat there brushing your hair with one hand and moving the other up and down your legs that were thrown over him. He hushed you when your sobs became too much for you to breath and helped you to get your breath back. 

30 more minutes went by of this. It finally got to the point to where you exhausted yourself and every other minute or so, you would sniffle as you laid in his arms. He gave you a second. He was going to let you be the first to talk. For all he knew, you would break down again. He was going to stay right there until you were ready. He would wait for an eternity if he needed to. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you said quietly into his shirt as you looked off into the corner of the room.

“Why do you have to do anything?” Steve asked. 

“I-I don’t know. I feel like I should do something though. For those…” you paused and took a deep breath to stop yourself from crying again. “Those families that got hurt because of me. They deserve something better.” 

“Hey now.” Steve pulled back and moved you to where he could see your face better. “Don’t blame yourself for what Bates did.”

“If it wasn’t because of me-”

“Want to hear something really crazy?” You looked up at him confused. “This really amazing, beautiful, and wise women shared this really nice thought with me when I was in a spot like you are now.”

You knew where he was going with this, and you rolled your eyes with a small smile before burrowing back into his chest. 

“Don’t say it.” 

“Were you the one who told those people to sign up for the experiment?”

You paused thinking about it. He was about to pull a you on you. 

“No,” you mumbled. 

“Sorry, can’t hear you,” he said leaning down in a teasing manner. 

“Nooooo,” you drug out a little louder.

“Is your name Garrison Bates, and do you have an evil agenda that hurt others for the purpose of your own self?” Steve summed up.

“No,” you said hesitantly.

“You don’t sound like you believe in yourself.”

“Because,” you pulled back looking at him. Now he could really see the red in your eyes and around your cheeks from crying. His heart broke a little and he brought his hand to wipe the wetness off of your face as you continued to talk. “If it wasn’t for my love-struck, teenage self, I wouldn’t be in this position. If I would have listened to Peggy and kept my mouth shut about my problem, then none of this would have happened.”

“Please don’t look at it like that Y/N. You aren’t at fault for this,” he reassured you as you cried more into his hands and leaned into his touch closing your eyes for a second. “You trusted him, and he took advantage of it. That’s all on him. None of it is on you.”

“It’s hard to see it that way.”

“I know, I know, but you have to try. Because if you don’t, you’ll continued to crumble and end up falling into a pit of self hate. All that does is swallow you whole.”

You sniffle a few times to catch your breath.

“You’re right. I can’t look at it this way,” you nodded your head that was still in his hands.

“No, you can’t. It won’t end well,” he said moving his hands to your shoulders and pulling you back into his chest. “You’re stronger than this Y/N. Everyone knows it. You letting him get in your head is what he wants. It’s how he wins, and he doesn’t deserve any of that.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

A few more minutes passed of just calming energy flowing between you two. He was becoming your new shelter for refuge and you were perfectly fine with it. So was he. 

“How are you feeling physically?” he said into your hair from resting his chin on your head. 

“Uh...” You had to take a second to think about it. You haven’t really been listening to your body. You’ve been in another world. “Honestly, not too great,” you answered pulling back and resting a hand on your ribs. “I think I pulled something jumping over that table.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised. You flew at him pretty fast. Impressive by the way. None of us were expecting that,” Steve chuckled getting up to get your medicine. “I figured you may have overextended yourself, so I brought those pain meds. You can take them and take a nap. Rest sounds like something you need right now.” He handed you the pills with a glass of water which you took and swallowed. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at him wiping your face with your sleeves. 

“Of course. I’ll always help you where I can sweetheart,” he smiled. “Ok, I’m going to let you get some sleep. Don’t think too much, ok?” He leaned down giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek before turning. “Get some rest-” You grabbed his hand before he could get too far which made him look down at the movement.

“Stay. Please,” you said quietly. 

“What?”

“I can’t be alone with my thoughts right now. I can’t stop them from coming, and I-I just-”

“It’s ok. I’ll stay,” he said seeing you start getting anxious at being alone. “Do you want me to grab a chair, or-” You set him a bitch face at the dumb question. He just looked back and nodded. “Yeah, stupid question,” he chuckled nervously. 

You moved over creating more space for him and went under the covers. He moved around you until you were comfortable, and next thing you knew, you were curled into his side once again, and he had his arm thrown over your shoulder to keep you close.

“Can you put Friends on?” you asked like a child wanting to watch TV before bed. 

“Friends?” he asked. 

“You don’t know friends?”

“I mean Sam watches it, but I’ve never sat down and tried it for myself.”

“Then you have a lot to learn. Put on Netflix,” you nodded to the TV snuggling into him more.

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled at your command. 

Not even 10 minutes into the episode, you were knocked out on him. He looked down when he heard your breathing steady. He leaned over and brushed some hair out of you face and studied your features as you slept. 

“I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again, Y/N. Never again,” he whispered.

____ 7 days had gone by since you had talked with Garrison. 

He confessed to never having any blackmail against you. You were safe from that at least. He also went radio silent and refused to talk to anyone. Even you. You weren’t complaining though. He could rot in hell for the things he did. You weren’t even bothered about the things that he did to you. It was what he did to everyone else. They deserve justice, and after going to court and having the judge sentencing him to jail for the rest of his life, that would be the justice they got. Of course, it would be under Shield jurisdiction, and he would also be held in Shield’s prison. 

You were fully healed now, but were taking it easy. Everyone gave you your space when you asked for it unlike last time. Steve and you grew close and every night consisted of him cuddling you to sleep. He was your life vest at the end of this, and you never wanted to drown again. 

You had about 4 more days of vacation left before you had to return to work, and as much as you wanted to go back early, Steve and the rest of the crew convinced you to take advantage of the time off. 

The last two days have been more relaxed and less focused on thinking about everything that had happened recently. As much as you wanted to, going to the court and hearing what Garrison was going to be doing for the rest of his life, it lifted a giant weight off your shoulders and you felt you could somewhat rest now. 

Last night while you and Steve were going to bed, he asked you on a date. A real one. Since you haven't really had an official one other than the ball, but that wasn’t as intimate.

He said it was a surprise, and to dress casual. So after getting a few more details from Nat, who was helping him set it up, she said a nice sundress would do. 

He was going to be picking you up from your room at the compound in about 10 minutes and Wanda, Nat, and you were going back and forth on two dresses. 

“So the red one then? We’ve decided on the red one?” you asked going back to the closet.

“Yeah! I like red better anyway!” Wanda shouted. 

“I think it’ll fit the theme better too.” Nat muttered, but you could still hear her.

“Theme?” you asked changing in the bathroom with it cracked open. 

“Don’t worry about it! It’ll be fun,” Nat said.

“Now I’m worrying because you’re making this sound a lot more important than I thought to begin with,” you said zipping it and coming back out. 

“You look great Y/N. Absolutely stunning.” Nat said changing the subject. You shot her a bitch face. “Seriously, don’t think too much of it. It’s just a date.”

“It’s a date with Captain America,” you mumbled grabbing your necklace and putting it on as you spoke. 

“Yeah, but he has to worry about going on a date with Y/N Erskine. I think if anyone needs to be worried, it’s him,” Wanda teased winking at you.

“Sureeeee...” you dragged out. Before you could worry more to them, you heard the knocking on your door.

“Y/N? It’s Steve.” 

“Wow, what a gentleman,” Nat rolled her eyes. 

You threw a pillow at her from the chair you were by. She laughed and dodged it like the pro she was. 

“Yeah, I’m-” you started to respond, but remembered a last detail. “Oh, shoot. I forgot lipstick. Can you guys let him in while I put it on?” you asked running to the bathroom 

“I guess we don’t have a choice,” Nat huffed.

She walked over to the door and opened it to Steve with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and slight nervous blush on his cheeks.

“Hey Y/N-,” he paused looking at the red head in front of him. “You’re not Y/N.”

“No, but are those for me? How sweet!” Nat said grabbing them and walking back in the room as she sniffed them. “You shouldn’t have Steven,” she mocked. 

“Those are for Y/N, Nat. Where is she?” he said looking around for you.

“She’s doing the last bit of her make up. She’ll be done in a second,” Wanda smiled. “You nervous Cap?”

“No,” Steve answered a little too quickly to sound convincing. 

“Sureee…” Nat mumbled as she sniffed the flowers and sat on the bed.

“Hey,” Steve was about to say something sassy back, but then the bathroom door opened.

“Hey Steven. You ready?” you asked coming out and smiling at him as you went for your purse in the corner of the room. 

“I-uh-” he stuttered as he studied how you looked. 

You had your hair in loose but bold waves, a subtle red lipstick on, make up simple but enough to enhance all you features. Then the dress? Oh the dress. It was something that was definitely vintage and could’ve been worn back in the 40’s or 50’s, but somehow you were making it work for this decade too. 

“Is that a yes?” you giggled coming up to him and holding your purse in your hand as you swung it over your shoulder.

“Oh! Yeah! Yes. I’m ready if you are,” he smiled finally looking you in the eyes. “I, uh, I brought flowers,” he stumbled still looking at you but not moving.

“You did?” you asked not seeing them in his hands. 

“Yeah,” he answered still not moving. Then he snapped out of it as you raised an eyebrow with concern. “Nat!” he shouted, turning to your friend who was sitting on the wall of your bed.

“Right,” she laughed getting up and walking over to you with bouquet. “Here you are my lady,” she teased.

“Thanks Nat,” you laughed taking the sunflowers mixed with other smaller flowers. “These are beautiful Steve. How did you know these were my favorites?” you sniffed them. 

“Research,” he answered proudly. “Shall we?” he asked, extending his arm ever so the gentleman.

“We shall.” you laughed playing along. “Nat? Wanda? Can one of you put these in a vase for me?” You passed on the bundle of flowers to Wanda who was closest and she took them with a smile.

“Sure thing. We’ll see you guys later. Have a good time,” she smiled.

“Yeah. A good time,” Nat winked effectively getting a shove from the other red head which only made her laugh.

Steve and You both sent her a glare. Yours more playful than his, but a glare nonetheless. 

Once you were out of the compound, you finally asked the question you’ve been wanting answered for a while.

“So, what’s the plan Cap?” you asked bumping hips with him as you two walked arm and arm. 

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I guess I can give you a clue,” he said bumping you gently back. You giggled and his stomach fluttered at the sound. “If you’re not careful, I’ll give it all away if you keep giggling like that.”

“I don’t giggle,” you said, unsuccessfully laughing again.

“Sure you don’t…” he teased. “Just tell me!” you chuckled. “What’s on the agenda?”

“Ok, ok!” he laughed with you as he looked down at you before looking ahead again. “There’s a nice little hiding spot on in the back of the compound. Not many people know about it, and it’s one of my favorite places to hideout. I have something set up for us over there.”

“I love it already,” you hummed resting your head on his shoulder as you walked. 

He looked down and he could feel his heart physically melt with how you just being there made him feel. He was a lucky guy to have someone like you on his arm. 

Some small talk later and a few blocks of walking, you finally made it to your destination. You turned into a hidden wooden area, and about 20 yards in, it opened into this wide field that was spread out with wild flowers, and trees every other spot for shade. 

It was one of the most unreal things you could imagine, and you understood now why Steve would want to use this as his safe haven. It had a calming effect as soon as you stepped in and just gave you this overwhelming feeling of joy looking at it. 

“This is- it’s-” you couldn’t find the words. “This is absolutely-”

“Perfect?” he asked making you turn to him. You realized that he wasn’t looking at the view, but was instead looking at you the whole time. “Yeah. Yeah it is,” he grinned. 

You blushed at his meaning and turned sheepishly around to where you could take your surroundings all in.

“I would have never guessed Shield had something like this. I thought this site was all buildings and technology,” you said taking more steps in. 

You felt Steve come up behind you and move to interlace his fingers with yours. 

“So does everyone else. Which means…” he walked over to a small little area the grass was cut down more for a sitting area under a tree. Laid out was a blanket and pillows with more flowers and what looked like a picnic basket in the corner. “No one ever comes out here to interrupt my peace and quiet. Which also hopefully means no one will disrupt us either,” he said motioning to the blanket.

“This is too sweet Steve. Truly, this is beautiful,” you smiled walking up to him and throwing your arms around his neck.

Caught by surprise, he took a second to respond, but eventually squeezed you back molding you into his figure. 

As you pulled back you noticed you were only inches from each other's faces. You both looked back and forth between each other's eyes, and before you knew it you were both leaning in and igniting a sparky kiss.

Magic. That’s what it felt like. Straight magic. Something that shouldn’t be possible, but somehow it was. You both fell into the others hold and never wanted to separate. That is until you both needed a breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that again since the of the charity ball,” Steve breathed out, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on yours.

“Never had a good time to…” you chuckled.

“I’m glad we do now,” he smiled at you as he pulled back keeping a hand on your cheek. 

Again, you caught yourselves staring at one another and standing in comfortable silence.

“We should probably eat the food before it goes bad right?” you asked with a smirk.

“I mean, I had other things in mind, but yeah. I think you’re right. We can come back to this,” he laughed pulling you back to picnic he had sat up.

You two talked and laughed for the next couple of hours. Taking this time to really get to know each other. He told you childhood stories of him and Bucky back in your time. How he met your father and Peggy. Then war stories about him and Bucky. Then how after Bucky’s supposed death, grieving he went through, and how he grew closer with Peggy. You both reminisced about your old friend, and shed a few tears at how she had aged and eventually passed away. She was a mentor, sister, and friend to you where she was a first love and friend to Steve. 

It was nice thinking back to those days and pulling the good memories out too. You two hadn’t really had anyone to do that with, other than Bucky for Steve of course, but thinking back to the 40’s-50’s was kinda nice. 

Then you got on the topic of how you both had grown over the decades. You adapting to each era change, and him basically skipping them all and having to adjust to a whole new world. In the end you both came out stronger, wiser, and more understanding of a lot of things. 

Steve was in the middle of telling yet another embarrassing story of Bucky doing something stupid when his phone rang.

“Who’s calling?” you asked taking another sip of wine. 

“I don’t know. I told them not to call or bother us until we came back,” he huffed checking the caller ID. “Tony,” he groaned. He paused debating picking it up, but decided against it. “He can wait a couple of hours,” he said putting the phone away and leaning back to you. “Where was I-?” The phone started buzzing again. “I’ll kill him.” Steve gritted grabbing the phone.

He was about to decline him again, but you had a gut feeling something was up.

“I would answer it. If Tony is one thing, it’s persistent. He’s not going to give up until you answer,” you laughed. 

“You’re not wrong,” he said taking a deep breath. Clicking the green button he brought the phone to his ear. “Tony,” he stated.

You just heard muffling on the other end as you grabbed the wine bottle and went to top off your drink. 

“Wait, slow down- What-?” Steve said confused causing you to get suspicious. “Ok, ok, what exactly did he find?”

You watched intently to see if you could pick up on the context of the conversation. 

“He what?!” Steve shouted with his eyes getting bigger. He turned to you almost as if the conversation was about you. “Ok, yeah. We’ll head that way right now… Yeah, yeah be there in 15 minutes.”

He let out a long breath as he hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. 

“Where’re we going?” you smiled taking another sip of wine looking into the field on last time. 

“The lab,” Steve answered. You could hear the tension in his voice. Something big was happening. 

“Steve-?” you turned to him, concern on your face. 

“Banner thinks he found a cure.”

Chapter 28

Used to be Overlooked Tag:

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If I tagged you and you aren’t normally on my tag list, I thought you would enjoy the story. Fair warning, it is a slow burn so we will get to the bottom of the issue later, but the burn is what makes it soooooo sweet. I’m really excited for this series, and would love your feedback:) Thank you!

If you want removed let me know.

[luciana-galvez]

dead and (almost) gone

Request:  Anonymous said: Hi lovely!! I was wondering if we could get something really angsts with Nikki? Maybe a fight that gets out of hand but he realizes he loves you and doesn’t want to ruin things with you? Or something really sweet with Mick? Or both as separate requests if you’re up for it haha

Fandom: the dirt

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: nikki sixx x reader

Warnings: drugs, needles, overdose, a n g s t

“It’s a sad night for rock’n’roll. We just received unconfirmed reports that Mötley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx has died in Hollywood this evening of an apparent drug overdose.”

The reporter said more, but you didn’t manage to absorb any of the words the TV was pushing at you. Instead, your heart was hammering in your chest so heavily that your heartbeat seemed to be the only thing that you were capable of hearing.

You had talked to Nikki yesterday on the phone, and he had seemed so excited to see you in a couple of days. You had jokingly told him to take it easy until you got there — jokingly, because he had been so good lately — and now you had to hear on the news that he was dead. It didn’t quite seem to sink in.

Nikki was dead.

He was dead.

He was dead.

A sob escaped your lips before you managed to put a hand in front of your mouth, and before you knew it you were sinking to the floor, arms wrapped around your knees.

You allowed yourself to stay like that for ten minutes before the logical side of your brain took over, and without trying to think too much, you grabbed your bag and your coat and called a cab for the airport.

You had met Nikki a couple of years ago when they were playing a concert in New York, and you had been immediately smitten with the raven-haired bassist. It had taken almost another year until you two finally managed to find your way together, between his touring and uninterrupted stream of groupies, and your unwillingness to follow him around the world and objection to turning a blind eye to all the girls he was sleeping with.

But then something had changed, and all of a sudden you had found him in front of your door even though they had been in the middle of their tour, and somehow you had managed to find your way together. And since then, as far as you could tell and with a few exceptions, he had been good.

Of course he was still taking drugs and drinking, but never to the extent that he used to when you first met. At least, not that you knew of. And now you were on the way to the airport to fly to LA because apparently, he had died of an overdose.

You were on autopilot as you went to the desk to convince the clerk to exchange your ticket for a flight that was leaving as soon as possible, and after an hour, you were finally able to go through security check.

The next few hours passed in a blur. You boarded your flight, you didn’t remember what you did for six hours while on the flight apart from staring blindly out the window, landed in Los Angeles just in time for the sunrise, and somehow managed to find your way to Mick’s house, because for whatever reason he was the first person that came to your mind.

You had a speech planned. Well, not so much a speech as just something to say, but when Mick opened the door, all words left you, and everything you managed to do was look at him with a clenched jaw.

“Dead?” you managed to say eventually, and all you could do was cover your mouth with your hand and press your eyes shut, willing yourself not to fall apart.

“Hey, no, no,” Mick started, putting both his hands on your shoulders and trying to get you to look at him. “You didn’t hear?”

You looked up at him in confusion but didn’t manage to answer in a proper sentence.

“He’s not dead,” Mick told you vehemently, and it took a moment for the words to register with you.

“W-what do you mean?”

“They managed to get him back,” Mick emphasized. “He’s not dead.”

“What?”

“He’s not dead,” Mick repeated, his eyes trained on you intently, trying to get you to understand. “I saw him last night. He’s very much alive.”

Hope was unrelenting as it worked itself up through your body, and you couldn’t help but reach out, grabbing Mick by the arm, desperate for him to be right. “What?”

“He died, but the paramedics were able to resuscitate him.”

You didn’t know what to say. Much like last night, you were feeling so overwhelmed that your body was going numb and you started feeling nauseous. All of this was too much, and you weren’t sure how much more you were able to handle.

“Hey, come on,” Mick started while he reached behind him to grab his keys from the side table, and then closed the door behind him. “I’ll drive you to him.”

You nodded and followed him to his car, and you spent the whole way to Nikki in silence. You hadn’t been able to believe that Nikki was dead, and yet at the same time you weren’t allowing yourself to believe he was still alive either.

By the time you reached Nikki’s place, you weren’t able to stop your hands from shaking.

“You want me to wait?” Mick asked.

“No, I’m fine,” you told him, but you knew that he would wait anyway even before you heard him turn off the motor as you were making your way toward the front door.

You knocked loudly and tried to suppress the increasingly unbearable knot in your throat, and it didn’t help that even after the third knock, no one was answering. “Nikki,” you shouted as you eventually grabbed the door handle, intending to rattle the door, but you were surprised to find the door unlocked.

“Nikki?” you repeated as you slowly walked in and closed the door behind you. The usual loud house was eerily quiet, and you found the hairs in the back of your neck stand up as you walked through the house, trying to locate Nikki but terrified of what you might find.

The living room was empty except for thrown over whisky bottles and full ashtrays, and so was the kitchen and the bathroom. The closer you came to the bedroom, the more everything in you seemed to writhe against going any further. And the longer you didn’t get an answer, the more you believed that Mick might have been wrong after all.

When you eventually did cross the threshold of the bedroom door, you let out a breath as you found that this room, too, was empty, but it only lasted for about two seconds, when you spotted a pair of feet in the mirror of the open closet door.

Nikki had a huge walk in closet, and this is where you found him, sitting on the ground, back propped up against the closet, eyes closed, a needle still sticking to his vein and blood running down his arm.

It took your body a couple of seconds until it seemed to catch up with what you were seeing, and when it did, another sob escaped your lips as you rushed over to him.

“Nikki!” you exclaimed as you started shaking his shoulders, overcome by panic and unable to think clearly. “Jesus Christ, Nikki!”

To your surprise, he opened his eyes not long after you started shaking him. The look in his eyes was vacant, and it took a few seconds until he was able to focus his gaze on you and recognition dawned in his expression.

“What the fuck?” you asked him when he remained silent.

“Hey,” he groaned, and you could tell that he was still not quite there.

“You died!” you grimaced, your worry quickly replaced by white hot anger. “I flew here thinking you were still dead and then Mick told me you weren’t, and now I have to find you like this!”

You gestured toward the needle in his arm, and it seemed to be the first time he became aware of it himself. He looked down and pulled it out, slowly and carefully, like he was still in a daze.

“Is this what it’s going to be like now?” you asked incredulously. “Me waiting by the TV every day to find out whether you died or not?”

“I just…I don’t—”

“Because that is what’s going to happen! Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but if you keep going like this, you will die.”

You got up again and took a step back. It took Nikki a while before he managed to follow you with his gaze, and there was still a glassy kind of quality in his eyes. “I got it under—”

“Do not say you have it under control,” you interrupted him. “Because you clearly don’t!” You had to pause another moment before going on, and this time, you anger was replaced by exhaustion. You were so tired. “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. If this is going to be your lifestyle, then I’m not going to be a part of it.” You paused and gave him a moment to react, but all he could do was look at you, trying to say something but not quite finding the words.

You took another deep breath, knowing what you needed to do but finding it hard to actually do it, especially seeing him like this. “We’ve talked about this. I’m not going to just stand by while you self-destruct. I can’t,” you paused. “I’m sorry.”

You gave him another chance to say something — anything — but when he didn’t, you turned around and walked away before he could see you cry.

“Just drive,” you told Mick as you got back into the car, and you were grateful that he didn’t ask any questions before putting the car in gear and pulling away from Nikki’s house.

You didn’t allow yourself to look back in the mirror when you left, and it was the last time you saw him in almost four months.

You went back to New York and tried to get on with your life as best as possible. You didn’t hear from Nikki, and you didn’t reach out, but you regularly checked the news to make sure he was okay, and judging by his lack of appearance in any of the outlets, he seemed to be.

You focused your energy on your job and invested more time in your friends, and by the time you found him sitting on your doorstop more than three months after his overdose, you had done such a good job distracting yourself from him that you were genuinely surprised.

You were coming home from work, and when you headed up the stairs to your apartment and saw him, you had to stop in your tracks. Nikki looked…different.

His skin looked less dead, his eyes were wide and aware, and there were no bags under his eyes. He also seemed to have gained some weight, which he desperately needed.

“Hi,” he said eventually, almost defensively.

You could only stare at him. “What are you doing here?” you managed to break out of your initial shock eventually.

“What I should’ve done months ago.”

You swallowed. “We’re not doing this out here.”

Nikki nodded and took a step to the side, and you avoided eye contact as you climbed the rest of the stairs and pulled out your keys. You tried to suppress the shaking in your hands as you unlocked your door, and when you went inside you were tempted to walk straight to your alcohol cabinet and pour yourself a drink, but you stopped yourself.

“So?” you asked after an awkward silence.

“I went to rehab,” Nikki started. He was standing at one side of your living room and didn’t come closer, respecting the distance you had put in between the two of you. “I’m 90 days clean.”

“Good for you.”

“We talked a lot about acknowledging our mistakes and asking for forgiveness—”

“Nikki, don’t,” you interrupted him, but he didn’t accept it.

“No, please. I know you might not want to hear it, but I need to say it. Okay?”

You stared at him for a moment, clenching your jaw, before you eventually nodded.

“How I treated you?” Nikki continued. “It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t a reflection of how I felt about you. Feel about you,” he corrected himself, and you had to narrow your eyes. This didn’t sound at all like the Nikki you knew.

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance, or a third chance for that matter, but I need you to know that I am genuinely sorry.”

You needed a moment before finding the right words. “How do I know that it won’t happen again?”

Nikki shrugged unhappily. “You can’t.”

“Nikki,” you started, but he interrupted you again.

“I don’t need an answer right now,” he said, and then started shaking his head, breaking eye contact for the first time. “I didn’t used to be able to feel anything. I was just craving the next fix or the next high. But now,” he continued and looked at you again. “Now, I feel everything. And it feels like shit looking at you and knowing what I did to you. And if you let me, I will make it up. I will try to make it up every day.”

You had to chew on your lip to keep your emotions in check, but when you spoke, it still came out hoarsely. “Do you know what it felt like hearing you were dead from the news?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you know what it felt like to come to your house and finding you with that needle in your arm?” you asked, even more agitated than before.

“I’m sorry,” Nikki repeated.

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” you exclaimed and suddenly took a couple of steps to close the distance between the two of you, and before you could stop yourself, you were punching his arm, and then his chest, and then all of a sudden you were on the ground, sobbing, while Nikki had his arms wrapped around you and held you close.

“I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating as you tried to get your emotions under control.

You had known that it would be difficult to date him, but you never had expected it to be as difficult as it had actually turned out to be. And when you were finally starting to get over him, he had to show up at your door and tell you all the things that you had needed to hear months ago.

You didn’t know what to do, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to forgive him right away, but as you were sobbing into his chest, you realized you also knew you couldn’t picture your life without him. As messed up as it was, Nikki was a part of you, and after everything you’ve been through together, you knew your relationship deserved a second chance, no matter how long it would take for you to get over almost losing him.

And if he was true to his word, he would be patient. You took that as consolidation as you held on tighter to him, grasping his shirt with your hand, not intending to let go anytime soon.

“I’m sorry. I love you,” he whispered as you cried. “I love you so fucking much.”

It wouldn’t be today, and it wouldn’t be tomorrow, but you figured eventually, you two would be okay.

tags: @supernaturalvikingwhore  @miserablecunt  @sighsophiia  @fandomshit6000  @flizaa @hi-my-name-is-riley  @electradestiny  @starlalove  @kingbouji3  @sweetshutter  @baiabouk @swoopygorl 

[softspideys]

Stay (Tom Holland x reader)

summary: four times tom proves to you he’s not going anywhere, and one time you prove it to him

warnings: none

words: 2,000

pairings: tom holland x reader

a/n: i’m a slut for fluffy 4 and 1 fics and i also haven’t written anything for tom in a while, enjoy :-)

1.

You woke up in the middle of the night to the bed moving. It was still too dark to see anything, so you blindly reached a hand out, expecting a body but only feeling empty sheets. As your eyes adjusted, you could see Tom getting up and creeping towards the door, quietly opening it and slipping out of the room.

You could feel the disappointment in your throat, stuck there like a large pill. You chided yourself for being foolish enough to think he’d stay. Two dates, no matter how nice they’d been, certainly didn’t mean anything, especially in this day and age.

But he’d been so nice, was the thing. He’d opened every door for you, held your hand, listened to your stories with interest, and when he kissed you, he kissed like you had all the time in the world, slow and leisurely like there was nothing he’d rather be doing.

And now he was gone.

Tom hadn’t seemed to you like the type of guy who would leave a hookup in the middle of the night, but people were surprising sometimes.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but the sound of a toilet flushing made you open them again. Wait a second. Your heartbeat quickened as you listened.

There were footsteps, and then the door was opening again and Tom was coming back in, trying to make as little noise as possible. He saw you and smiled.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said, returning the smile. You wondered how you could possibly put into words how happy you were to be woken up just then.

He climbed back into bed and flung an arm around your waist, snuggling up behind you and resting his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m not going anywhere. Just had t’pee,” he mumbled.

“I’m glad it was successful.”

He chuckled. “I forgot to ask if you like pancakes.”

“I do like pancakes.”

“M’kay. I’ll make you some in the morning if you want.” He yawned and pressed a small kiss underneath your ear. “Good night.”

“Good night,” you said softly, and when you woke up the next morning it was to the smell of coffee and the sight of a boy standing at your stove, moving around your kitchen so effortlessly it was like he belonged there.

2.

A soft tap on your front door woke you from your already fitful nap. “Come in,” you croaked, your voice hoarse. You were curled up on your couch, too exhausted and achy to get up and make the short walk to your bed.

You’d come down with a cold a little over a week ago. While it wasn’t anything major, it still left you with a stuffy nose, sore throat, and a bad cough. In short, you were miserable.

You expected the visitor to be your mom, just checking in for the millionth time, but it was Tom.

“Hey,” you said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you, of course,” he said like it was obvious. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admitted.

“Yeah, you look it,” Tom said with a grin. You rolled your eyes as he walked past you, planting a kiss on top of your head. “Just kidding, of course.”

“What’s in the box?” you asked, referring to the big cardboard box he’d brought with him. You turned around to watch him go into your kitchen, putting the box on the counter.

“Homemade soup,” he said, pulling the items out as he listed them, “tea, cough drops, tissues, crossword puzzles, and movies.” He grinned proudly. “It’s like a care package, get it?”

You blinked at him. “You did all of that for me?”  

“Yeah, of course,” Tom said, giving you a funny look. “I also brought some socks, ‘cause I know you don’t have any on right now.”

You scowled, mostly because he was right. You allowed him to lift your feet up and put the socks on you. “So I’ll just heat this stuff up and then we’ll be good to go,” he said, turning back to go into the kitchen.

“What? What do you mean?” you said, sitting up.

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Tom asked.

“You can’t stay.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m all gross,” you said. “And you’ll get sick too.”

Tom rolled his eyes at you, apparently not even wanting to dignify those reasons with an answer. You sighed, figuring there was no use arguing with him. You lay back down, listening to the sounds of him moving around in your kitchen.

A few minutes later, he climbed over the back of the couch, fitting himself in so he was lying behind you and handing you a hot mug of tea. “Can we watch Love Actually?” you asked hopefully as he turned on the TV.

“Uh, duh.”

Tom put on the movie and you watched it in amicable silence. Between his body heat and the blanket you were both snuggled under, you were feeling nice and warm again, and the hot tea was doing wonders for your throat.

You tilted your head back to look at him, almost in wonder. Sometimes you just couldn’t believe that he was real, that he cared about you enough to bring you tea and movies and cuddle with you when you were sick.

He noticed you staring and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Just . . . thank you for being here.”

Tom smiled, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your shoulder. “‘Course. I’m not going anywhere.”

3.

A loud crack of thunder startled you awake, followed by the bright flash of lightning that lit up the entire room.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t see the appeal in thunderstorms. They were too loud and unsettling for you. How anyone could possibly find them soothing was a mystery to you.

Tom had fallen asleep fast, claiming the storms didn’t bother him. He was snoring a little, which would annoy you if it was anyone else, but because it was him you liked it. For some reason, the sound of his breathing was the greatest thing in the world.

It didn’t do you much good now, though. Not when the thunder was shaking the house and the knot in your stomach was growing tighter by the second.

You’re safe, idiot, you chided yourself. It can’t hurt you. You’d been telling yourself this for years, though, and it never worked. You knew Tom wouldn’t care if you woke him up, but he was so tired lately. You wanted to let him sleep.

It didn’t matter anyway, though, because a few minutes later he rolled over, groaning a little. “Babe?” he asked, still half-asleep. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

“Hmm.” Tom didn’t say anything else, but he moved closer to you. You were both lying on your stomachs facing each other, so he draped his arm across your back, slipping his hand under your shirt to trace gentle patterns onto your skin. “I’ll protect you.”

You smiled a little. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“S’okay,” he said. “I had a feeling anyway.” He kissed your shoulder, resting his face there. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you,” you said, already relaxing at the feeling of his fingers drawing shapes on your back.

“Love you more,” he answered easily. Thunder still crackled on throughout the night, but you fell asleep with Tom wrapped around you, protecting you until you woke up.

4.

The air was so thick with tension it was almost like the house itself was holding its breath.

This was the first fight you and Tom had ever had that didn’t end within the hour. This wasn’t just a difference of opinions or blowing off steam. This was explosive.

To say you felt guilty was an understatement. You’d been having a shitty day, the type where everything anybody did, no matter how innocent, set you off.

Tom had been patient at first, ignoring your snotty remarks. But eventually, he’d gotten pissed too, and soon it escalated to the two of you shouting at each other from opposite sides of the room until you couldn’t take it anymore, going into your bedroom and slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

That had been a few hours ago. The house was quiet. You didn’t know if Tom was still here or not, but you assumed he wasn’t. Why would he stay? You’d been a total brat.

Despite your best efforts, you could feel tears slipping past your closed eyes and sliding down your cheeks. You desperately wanted to call or text him and say you were sorry, but resisted. He probably didn’t want to hear from you right now, maybe even ever. It was best to just give him space.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there before you heard your bedroom door slowly open. You opened your eyes and rolled over as Tom slid into bed next to you.

“Hey,” he said simply.

“Hey,” you said, confused. “What are you doing here?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean? I never left.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. Of course not. Why would I leave?”

“Because I was a brat,” you said, feeling your throat get tight with shame as you spoke. “And I yelled at you and I took my anger out on you when you did nothing wrong. I’m really sorry.”

To your surprise, he merely shrugged. “It’s okay. Everybody has bad days. And I yelled at you too, so I’m sorry too.”

“I shouldn’t have acted like that, though. I’m sorry.”

Tom smiled a little. “You said that already.”

And just like that it was over and he was pulling you close, kissing you gently and lacing his hand through yours, playing with your fingers. “Told you I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.

You didn’t know what it was about this time. Maybe it was just that all of the other times he’d said it were finally starting to add up. Maybe it was because you’d been waking up next to him for the past 365 days, or because you knew that inside his wallet was a picture of you, and he knew what shows you liked to watch when you were sick and the kind of shampoo you used and your most-played songs on Spotify.

But this time, you believed him. Tom really wasn’t leaving.

+1.

You came home one summer evening to Tom sitting on your front steps. The setting sun cast a beautiful light on him, making his entire body glow.

“Hey,” you said, happy to see him. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you,” he answered.

“Here I am,” you said, holding your arms out. “How’s it going?”

He shrugged, and you noticed he looked exhausted. “You okay?” you asked, sitting down next to him and stretching your legs out.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Okay,” you said, nodding. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now,” he said quietly. In the fading light, you could see streaks on his face where tears had dried. You reached out and touched one gently, and he closed his eyes.

“Okay,” you said again. “That’s okay.” You slid your hand into his, squeezing once and feeling him squeeze back. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling how warm he was from sitting in the sun.

Tom rarely got like this, withdrawn and melancholy, but when he did it hurt you like you were the one going through it. You were so used to him being the strong one that when the time came for the roles to switch, you were always afraid that you weren’t as good at it. 

“Is there anything I can do?” you asked. “Do you want something to eat? Or do you wanna take a bath?”

“No,” was all Tom said, but his voice was so heavy.

The two of you sat there silently. You tried to think of something to say or do that could possibly make this better. 

“I’m sorry,” you said finally. 

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I just wish there was something I could do to help you.”

Tom didn’t answer for a second. Then, he said, “Just stay. That’s all I need.”

Despite everything, you smiled a little. You turned your head, kissing the base of his throat. “Don’t worry,” you said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[mylittleedgey]

Phoenix Wright was used to operating on the fly when it came to his relationship with Miles Edgeworth.  Sometimes it was smooth sailing, sometimes it was harsh words that needed to be said, and sometimes it was just harsh words. Sometimes it was making up, sometimes it was two angry men trying to navigate a small room without acknowledging the other’s presence, and sometimes it was amazing sex. Often it was a mixture of those things. Phoenix was getting used to falling asleep with just a few inches of their backs touching, mirroring each other like a large antisocial butterfly spread out over the sheets.  He’d learned from experience that they normally woke up in each other’s arms.  If being in crisis was normal, then at least pulling off miraculous turnabouts at the last second were nearly as easy to count on.

Today’s crisis began with a panicked call from a detective who’s main skills were misinterpreting facts and jumping to conclusions.  He had built an entire career on people not going through with their threats to fire him.  “Listen, pall, no one’s supposed to know about this, not even me-” he began.

“-especially you, let’s be honest.”  Phoenix interrupted sardonically. He’d lost count of the number of times Gumshoe’s well-meant tips had made things worse for himself or the prosecutor he’d been paired with.  He always told himself that next time he wouldn’t act until he’d heard the truth straight from the source, and yet, he didn’t hang up the phone.

“Well, you’re a close second, pal, and at least I don’t have to sleep on the couch every time he’s angry at me!  Anyway, it’s about Mr Edgeworth, of course.”  As if the two had anything in common besides their dangerously low incomes and their mutual obsession over a certain brooding prosecutor.  “He’s been making calls all over Europe the last few days, and he’s just about to leave for the airport!  He even had fake appointments for the rest of the day!”  

Phoenix felt his stomach drop.  “But, still,” he started, trying to force normal words out of his suddenly dry mouth.  “That doesn’t mean anything.  He could be picking someone up, or…”  His mind was suddenly hyper-fixated on the conversation last night where Miles had declined to meet for dinner.  He simply wasn’t available.  He didn’t offer a reason, and Phoenix knew better than to ask.  There was always tomorrow.

Until one day there wasn’t.

And Gumshoe didn’t need to know it, but it’s been weeks since he’d seen the inside of Miles’ bedroom.  It’s not that they’re fighting, not technically…

…Fighting would probably be better.  They were hardly talking.  It wasn’t the silence of two angry men who needed time to let their egos calm down before they could make up, either.  It was two men who wanted to talk to each other desperately, that had more to say than they knew how to express, two men who were (hopefully) still very much in love but overwhelmed by the circumstances of life.  Troubles beyond even what they could have expected, even after everything they’d already been through.  An elephant in the room that he wasn’t sure they could surmount.

A tiny elephant with brown hair and a contagious laugh and a penchant for magic tricks.

Phoenix himself had been the one to introduce a stranger into the relationship, without the consent and certainly without the approval of the other party.  That would have been enough to throw the status of their relationship into question even without the far-reaching scandal that had destroyed his career and was currently drawing his partner’s ethics into question.  He had been trying to remain optimistic, for his new daughter’s sake even when he couldn’t bring himself to believe he deserved for things to go well, but hearing the words out loud made him painfully aware of how unrealistic it would be to just assume things could be smoothed out. A large part of him had expected this weeks ago.  “Listen, Gumshoe,” he finally continued, trying to keep his voice calm,  “there’s a lot going on right now.  Thank you for the heads up, but if he’s made up his mind-”

“But I don’t think he has!  You’ve had him moping for weeks, but he’s been different the last few days.  Y’know, quiet, nervous, jumping at stuff, like he does when he’s really lost in his thinking!  I think he’s about to make a really big decision.  And, y’know, pal,” here his voice got a little lower.  “You ain’t been that good for him recently, but still I think you should be there.  Ya gotta try, anyway.”

“I…”  Hope wasn’t what he needed right now.  Hope had gotten him everywhere in life: his profession, his public standing, his relationship, but it had let him down.  Right now what he needed to do was work on managing expectations, and that included accepting that Miles Edgeworth wasn’t actually obligated to take on the role of father to go with his newly acquired reputation as a prosecutor dating a disbarred attorney.  Hope was selfish.  “He should do what’s best for him.”

There was a very long pause, during which he swore he could hear the detective’s mood switch at least three times.  “Look, pal, if I can be frank,” he finally started, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice, “If you’re done with Mr Edgeworth, you should just tell him.  This ain’t fair.”

“Done with him? Me?! Listen, Detective,”

“No, you listen! I ain’t seen you come to his office in two weeks-”

“-You think I’m welcome there?!”  Phoenix snapped.

Gumshoe didn’t even pause,  “You think he’s welcome here?!  You think nobody mentions you just because you ain’t been visiting lately?!  Mr. Edgeworth has put his life into this job for years, he can’t just drop everything and run because you made a mistake, and,” Phoenix was cut off before he could protest, “I don’t even care whether you did it or not, you made a mistake and you gotta own up to that!  Mr Edgeworth defends you a dozen times a day, why can’t you speak for yourself once in a while?!”  There was a disturbingly wet sniffle.  “If I could do anything to help him through this, I wouldn’t even question it!  I… I’d even call the chief stupid!”

It took a second for Phoenix to finish cycling through the emotions the sudden rant had caused.  He found his pride was most hurt by the fact that he had no comeback to Gumshoe’s logic.  He must have gotten better at lying to himself if he could get himself to believe things even Gumshoe wouldn’t buy.  “Listen, Detective,” he began warily, “if I’m the reason he’s suffering, why on earth do you think seeing me would help anything?”

There was another long pause, and then Gumshoe replied in an extremely disappointed voice, “I dunno, Pal.  I guess I just assumed you two were in love.”  A beep ended the conversation.

It was difficult to process what had just happened.  He had just been told off by Gumshoe about his love life.  Detective Gumshoe, who’d pined after Maggey for years without ever making a single move that didn’t make things drastically worse.  Gumshoe, who only followed after Miles and did what he was told, who wouldn’t stand up for himself if his paycheck or job or even his life was on the line.

Gumshoe, who was always willing to risk everything for his boss, regardless of whether or not he was benefiting from it.  Who trusted his boss to make the right decision every time.  Who, in his own way, had loved Miles for almost a decade, probably more than the poor detective even loved himself.

Love.  He and Miles respected each other when it came down to the line, trusted each other implicitly, and definitely had an almost physical attraction.  If you had asked him a month ago if they were in love, he probably would have just responded with a self-depreciating smile, “Here’s hopping.”  Now, the question made his stomach turn sour with anxiety.  Love?  Not blindly like Dollie or fatherly like with Trucy.  What he had with Miles was something strong enough that he would walk through fire without even questioning whether it was necessary. It was something like a sharp cliff, the base was sturdy and would probably survive after everything else had crumbled away, but the edge was constantly breaking down, subject to landslides, eternally changing.  It wasn’t something you could define one day and then come back expecting it to have stayed the same.

Miles was so much to him.

But what was he to Miles?

Almost distractedly, he picked up his phone off the desk.  He would probably never understand the inner workings of Miles Edgeworth, and he was even less likely to interpret how it applied to their complicated bond, but he knew someone who deserved to be part of the dialogue.  

Maya picked up on the third ring.  “What’s up, Nick?  Adopted another kid you need to have looked after?”  She snickered.  “I don’t do bulk discounts, y’know.”

“Hey, Maya?  This is weird, but can I talk to Trucy?”

“Yeah, whatever. Need some advice?” she laughed, handing the phone over.  “At least you know who to call!”

The phone thumped a little as small hands wrestled the phone into place.  “Hi, Daddy!”

“Hey, Trucy, how are you doing?”

“Great!”  Trucy giggled.  “Aunt Maya’s trying to figure out how I keep making all the cookies disappear!”  Her voice became louder and more distorted, presumably because she was cupping her hand against the phone to be secretive.  “I ate them.”

“Don’t give Aunt Maya too much trouble, okay?  I need her to still like you enough to babysit you,”  he joked.

“Everybody likes me!”  she proclaimed loudly, the scuffling of a chair implying that she thought this statement was worthy of standing up.  “I’m the amazing Trucy Wright!”

Phoenix laughed again.  “Well, you’re Daddy’s favorite, that’s for sure.” He paused for a second, taking a deep breath.  “You know Mr. Edgeworth, right?”

“Yeah!” She responded enthusiastically.  “He’s really pretty.  He needs a better agent.  When we saw him on TV yesterday they didn’t even center the camera on him!  He’s the best talent they have, they should treat him like it!”

Phoenix gave a sad half-smile to the receiver.  “Well, I’ve heard he’s going to England.”

He heard her shift the phone excitedly.  “Does he have a new gig?”

“Yeah, I guess. Something like that.”  Phoenix replied.

She picked up the sadness in his voice.  “But you’re gonna miss him, huh?”

“Yeah, Honey,” he admitted quietly,  “a whole bunch.”

“So, go kiss him goodbye! Don’t you watch movies?!”  She sounded as angry as a little girl could muster.  “He’ll miss you too, you know!”

“You really think so?”

He could hear her eyes roll.  “Daddy…” she explained with exaggerated patience. “When you don’t fit his image, he changes his image to fit you. In the business, we call that a terrible career idea, but we also call it love.”

How did she know him so well after so short a time?  “You know what, Honey?  I’ll do that.  Thanks.”

“Kiss him for me too,”  she laughed,  “You can kiss him on the mouth if you want, as long as you tell him that part was your idea.  Oh, and tell him I know a guy that can help him with his sound checks!  He’s got a nice voice, they just need to wire him better.”

Kiss him goodbye. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?  If he managed to even find Miles, and didn’t get chased off, he could kiss his boyfriend goodbye and tell him there would always a place for him here if he got lonely.  And if he didn’t, well… Phoenix Wright had plenty of practice pining after Miles Edgeworth.  He’d survive.

“Thank you, Truce.”

“Go get him, Daddy!”

“I’ll try, Sweetheart. Be nice to Aunt Maya, okay?”

“Yep!”  The call ended.

Phoenix grabbed his wallet and headed for the door, intentionally avoiding the mirror.  He already knew Miles wasn’t dating him for his looks or fashion sense or career, or anything else that came to mind. Getting his suit would only waste time and make him more recognizable to gawkers.  If he had any chance of pulling off a miracle, his pride wasn’t going to enter into things.  In fact, the less he thought about it logically, the better.  This was one for the heart.

–

Fortunately, it was easy to catch a shuttle to the airport from the Gatewater, and if Gumshoe had been right and Miles wasn’t leaving just yet, he might even have gotten there first.  Besides, he knew the prosecutor well enough to be confident enough that Miles would never resort to a taxi.  He had to be storing his car, which meant more delays.  And on an international flight, it could still be hours before he actually left.

If only his dumb ass hadn’t gotten him stuck in arrivals.  It never ceased to confound him how such a huge airport could constantly manage to have the same population and hostile, zombie-eyed energy of an overcrowded high school.  He was scanning the area with growing apprehension, wondering what to do.  He could try to find departures, although the time and energy it would take to force is way against the current of humanity would mean he’d show up at the right area missing his sunglasses, most of his sanity, and possibly a few fingers, just in time to catch a glimpse of one of the nicest asses in Los Angeles passing through a metal detector behind four security fences.  He’d look great on the news being arrested as a terrorist who jumped a counter in the name of love.  At least he knew a good defense attorney…

...Oh wait, not anymore.

He was surprised how much the realization still managed to hurt.

He could page Miles and see just how mad that made him.  Did they even page people at airports any more?  It would be easy enough to convince someone his piece of crap phone, but Miles would know exactly what was happening even if they didn’t give his name.  He should probably just hang his head in shame and crawl back to his office and be glad he hadn’t had a chance to make things even worse.  If this was a movie, he’d be sitting here on the brink of despair when all of a sudden a flash of magenta would catch him off guard.

A little girl in a dark pink dress happened to be taking off her coat in the corner of his vision at that exact moment and nearly gave him a heart attack.  No, of course it wasn’t Miles, because this wasn’t a stupid movie and he had a feeling he wasn’t anywhere near the nadir of his fall from grace anyway.  He apologized profusely to the family he had frightened and pretended he had mistaken her mother for someone he knew because it seemed slightly less creepy than saying he thought her young daughter was his boyfriend, and made his way to the bathroom to get a hold of himself.

And there was Miles Edgeworth in the flesh.  Tall and harried and unfairly beautiful, leaning against a suitcase that was far too large to be meant for a weekend trip.  He was sipping tea from a national chain Phoenix knew he could hardly stand and trying badly to pretend he didn’t hate everyone within a hundred yards of him.  Phoenix slowly edged around the masses of people, trying to get closer without looking suspicious.

God, he looked tired.  He always tended to look overworked, but this was beyond a Miles who had suffered through a hard day at work and needed a glass of wine before he was willing to talk about it.  This was Miles on day two of a three day trial, considering a nicotine patch just to keep him awake and applying concealer in the bathroom because he was raised to be perfect and perfection didn’t show up to court looking like a drug addict in a nice suit.  This was Miles holding together because failure wasn’t an option even when nothing else was a possibility anymore, and he was the Miles that always caused Phoenix and Gumshoe to hold their breath and hope this wasn’t the millstone that broke the camel’s back.  

That was the look of a man who had had three cases in the last two days appealed simply because Phoenix Wright had touched the case, and if a forger and the boyfriend of a forger had both been involved then someone needed to take a closer look.

That was entirely Phoenix’s fault, and as Gumshoe has pointed out earlier, he hadn’t really been doing anything to make things better.  And here he was, in sweat pants with a ratty old beanie pulled over his hair and his favorite pair of sunglasses that made him look like any one of thousands of people going through a scandal in the state.  What did he have to offer?  He wanted to run.  

And god, did he want to kiss that man.

Hold him and kiss his tired eyes and tell him it was okay, there had been a misunderstanding and his stupid boyfriend hadn’t ruined both of their lives thinking he could handle things on his own.  Call a cab and give him a back-rub and a good meal and make sure he got a good night’s sleep whether he wanted it or not, and maybe in the morning they could talk about their relationship if there still was one.

He was considering his options when the man with the silver hair happened to glance in his direction.  He froze, but Miles didn’t even look surprised. “Goddamn it, Gumshoe’s got to be afraid of a living wage.” He turned back like that was the end of the conversation.

Phoenix stepped forward.  “I…”

“What did he even tell you?”

“He just said you were leaving for the airport and if I hurried I might be able to catch you before you left.”  Forget that kiss goodbye, not in front of all these people.  If he really loved the man, he should let Miles punch him out in front of the crowd.  Let him leave on a high note after weeks of being abused by Phoenix Wright simply existing.

“You…”  It seemed to take a moment for the words to sink in, he must be even more exhausted than even Phoenix realized.  “…Listen, I don’t think you have any idea what’s going on here, but I need you to leave.”

“What’s to understand?”  Phoenix asked with a wry smile.  “You’ve held out longer than I thought you would.  I just wanted to say I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

“Come to…” Confusion overtook the irritation in Miles’ voice.  “Come to what?”

Phoenix shrugged. “You know, all this.  I just wanted to…”  kiss him, that’s what he had set out to do, wasn’t it?  Show up like the arrogant prick he was and demand a kiss from a man he’d inadvertently tried to ruin.  “Hey,” he asked suddenly, “would you like to punch me out?”

“What?!”

“The press would eat it up, you know, everyone’s got a camera these days, it would be all over the news by this afternoon.  At least it would give you something to talk about when you get to wherever you’re going besides what poor taste you have in men.”

“Listen, Wright, I assume you think you’re helping with something, but I assure you that you aren’t.”  Miles was finally showing signs of true, intense agitation around the edges of his frazzled confusion.  “When is the last time you actually tried to talk to me?  Now you want to look like a martyr?”

“No, not a martyr, just an asshole.”  Phoenix returned.  “Isn’t that what everyone’s thinking anyway?”  He glanced around.  A few people had paused around them, either recognizing the minor celebrities or just smelling a public breakdown.  It occurred to him that people who didn’t recognize them must be wondering what sort of business the man in the dirty hoodie with stubble that said he was never expected to be presentable anywhere might have with the person who looked like some sort of minor royalty in a period piece.  Someone must have alerted security already.  Whatever was going to happen would have to happen soon.

“Wright, this is not the time.  Honestly, I’ll be the first to admit we could use more communication, but you have somehow managed to pick the worst possible time to initiate it, and even by your twisted logic this is wildly inappropriate.”

“Come on, Sweetheart, I know you’re good for it.”  Phoenix persisted, removing his sunglasses with one hand and taking Miles’ wrist with the other.  Even he wasn’t sure why he was so insistent about a physical altercation.  Perhaps he was afraid of the lack of passion in their voices.  If what they had was ending, shouldn’t it end with the same fire that had forced them together in the first place? The relationship had been short, but the events leading up to it overshadowed both of their lives.  “Do something,”  he insisted. “I’m not just some stranger asking for change.”

Miles looked at the hand trapping his and then back at the owner of said hand.  “After everything we’ve been through, can’t you just trust me?”

That was fair, honestly it was more than fair.  Miles had never intentionally hurt him during their brief but intense relationship, and a man who didn’t order takeout without an intense inner dialogue about his decision wouldn’t have just up and left without considering the consequences of his actions.  He should just trust Miles to make the right decision.  But standing here, inches away from the man who he’d pursued for over a decade, it struck him just how difficult it would be to accept that what was best for Miles was to leave and not look back.  Certainly without a kiss goodbye.  It wasn’t that Miles had logically decided that his use for Phoenix Wright had ended, this was a man who had dedicated weeks to trying to drag his unresponsive partner out of an engorged river and was finally having to accept that getting himself killed over a lost cause wasn’t accomplishing anything.  “I…” he started, with no words in his mind to finish the though.

The last time Miles had left, it had taken fifteen years to catch up.  This time, would it even be possible?

“Miles?”

Both men turned to see the confused man who had just exited the bathroom.  He was tall, not abnormally so, but definitely taller than Phoenix, with grey hair fashionably beginning to dust his temples and glasses that only made him look more refined.  Phoenix was the first to admit he didn’t know as much about suits as he could have, but he realized that the suit the man was wearing was most likely custom and definitely closer to Miles’ budget than his own.  “Who is this?”  The man asked with a faint but refined accent.

Phoenix would have liked to have something to say at this point, if only so that the first impression he gave implied he was even slightly coherent, but his brain had snapped off the second it registered that some man he’d never even heard of was casually referring to Miles so informally.  No one called Miles Edgeworth by his given name, not even his sister.  Hell, they’d been dating for months, and he still knew better than to throw the epitaph around carelessly. But this man… He looked to Miles, who had gone totally silent.  There was no attempt to make eye contact.  “Miles?” he repeated softly.

“Excuse me, may I help you?”  The other man stepped forward, taking a worried glance at Miles.  “Do you have some business with Miles?”

Phoenix supposed the man was handsome.  Not his own type at all, but he had to admit that the man, while definitely older than himself or the prosecutor, seemed fashionable and well-aged.  It was more than that, though, something in the eyes or the wrinkles by his mouth, that made him look soft and kind.  Not the kind of person he would have expected to turn Miles Edgeworth’s head,  but somehow he looked like the kind that would be strong enough, and stable enough, to support the troubled man through his hectic life without piling on extra unnecessary stress. What a man like Miles truly deserved.

He knew he was able to satisfy Miles sexually.  The man standing between them probably had no idea that the refined and outwardly repressed prosecutor had introduced the subject of bondage the first time Phoenix had stayed the night at his place, or that they’d had to establish a safe word that same evening after Miles had gotten so loud they’d had to pause and confirm that unless it involved one certain word, the volume should be considered an indication that everything was perfect and he should not under any circumstances stop.  Two weeks after they had gotten together Gumshoe had actually hugged him, tears in his eyes as he thanked Phoenix for whatever it was he was doing, because in almost ten years he hadn’t even realized Mr Edgeworth could be that relaxed.

But as a couple they were still trying to smooth out the roughest edges, and after his scandal the edges were getting roughed up faster than they could iron them back down.  A couple of spectacular orgasms a week didn’t even begin to justify what Miles had been through lately.

And yet, the idea that Miles had reached out to another for emotional support hurt so much more than the thought of him finding a convenient body to warm the other side of bed.  “I get it.”  he finally said quietly, trying to keep the tears out of his voice.

“I highly doubt that.”  Miles replied coolly, still looking away.  Even then, he looked more upset at the inconvenience of the scene being played out in front of him than he did embarrassed or conflicted.  He just wanted it to be over.  In some ways, that hurt most.

“No, I get it. Honestly, you’ve held out longer than I deserved.”  A kiss goodbye, that had seemed like such an obtainable goal this morning. This was exactly what he deserved for listening to the lies of hope. Anger rose up in his throat, at everything, the world that had put him in this position and himself for allowing it to happen.  At this other man simply for looking exactly like the source of mental and professional stimulation he’d never been able to be for Miles.  At Miles himself for letting things get to this point without saying anything.  For that look that was too exhausted to even be emotional. “Listen,” He had no idea what he was going to say, but he knew something had to be said.  He was surprised by the pain and challenge in his own voice.  “I’m not quite as stupid as you think I am-”

“No, you listen,” Suddenly the other man was between them, blocking Miles’ body with his own.  “I don’t know what your problem is, but-”

“Robert.”  Miles finally spoke up, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder gently. That hurt too, physical familiarity was not something Miles was readily comfortable with.  The gesture was enough to quiet both men down, waiting in silence for the prosecutor to speak.  Even in his anger, Phoenix could tell that the other man held a deep respect for Miles and was willing to wait for an explanation.  “This is… Phoenix Wright.  I’m sure you’ve heard of his recent troubles, which I can only assume are responsible for him acting like this.”  

Robert’s face seemed to lighten instantly.  “Why, I didn’t recognize you without the suit!  Yes, of course, I’ve heard…”  he turned back to Miles, and was suddenly quiet again, as if realizing there was more to the story.

“I’ll admit that our communication has been strained recently, but the last time we actually discussed it, I was under the impression we were still a couple.”

Phoenix’s heart caught in his throat as Robert looked from one face to the other with shock.  “I had no idea-” he stammered, and then went quiet again.

“And Phoenix Wright, I had hoped that this would be under different circumstances, but I would like to introduce you to Robert Edgeworth, my father’s younger brother.  We reconnected in Brussels last year at a conference, and I’ve asked him to stay out here a week as my guest.”  He cleared his throat as he thought over his words.  “There were things I felt more comfortable speaking about in person rather than over the phone.”

And this would probably be that nadir he had been thinking about:  The exact moment that he was able to pinpoint what exactly he saw in the other man that would be such a comfort to Miles and realized it was how closely he resembled Gregory Edgeworth.  “I-I, um, I’m Phoenix Wright… I guess you knew that.  It’s such an honor to meet you, Sir, I, um, I didn’t realize- he never talked about- n-not that he hasn’t talked about you, just not to me!  I mean…”   Now words were coming without thoughts or pauses as he tried to decide the most socially acceptable way to excuse himself to find a good hole to crawl into to die.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Wright, Pleasure to meet you.”  Robert offered his hand awkwardly.  “I was aware that the two of you were close, but I didn’t think… I wouldn’t presume…”   he glanced back towards his nephew.

“It’s complicated.”  Miles said quietly.  “Significantly more so as of late.”

“Yes, I can see where it would be.”  Robert said, his voice filled with concern. “And you said that he had recently adopted a young girl, didn’t he?”  

“I personally need a drink.”  Miles announced.  “I don’t live far, and I honestly don’t think I’ll be driving again today.  Wright…”  he paused.  “I don’t even know what to do with you right now.”

“I can get lost, no problem.”  Phoenix mumbled.  “I mean, you’re still welcome to that punch, if you’d like.  You’ve certainly earned it.”

Miles’ expression was too tired to even show how annoyed he was.  “I suppose you’re free to do what you like.  I’ve never expected otherwise from you, anyway.”  He was still avoiding eye contact, and it finally hit Phoenix exactly what he had been accusing his partner of.  

“After everything we’ve been through, can’t you just trust me?”

He trusted Miles with his life.  Even the lives of the people closest to him, which was significantly more impressive because he actually cared about their well-being.  He idolized Miles so much that he had automatically assumed infidelity was a normal, healthy thing for Miles to do before it occurred to him that such an action would be out of character for the prosecutor.

He was so deeply devoted to the man that he’d practically forced Miles out the door towards a better future without even asking for his opinion.

“I’m so sorry,”  Phoenix stammered, having trouble forcing the words past the lump in his throat, “I… I guess I just got so used to the idea that I was dragging you down that I just assumed…”  the words died on his lips.  There was really no way to recover.  “I hope the two of you have a great time...”  He abruptly turned to go.

A hand caught the back of his sweatshirt.  “You don’t don’t mind, right, Miles?  I’d hate to think I’d strained your relationship further.”  Miles shrugged without making eye contact. “Then as my guest, please.”  Robert addressed Phoenix directly. “At least until we get to the house.  I need to thank you for saving my nephew’s life.”

“It’s nothing.  It was a long time ago.”  Phoenix mumbled.

“Nonsense.” Robert returned.  “You fought Manfred Von Karma for his sake.  Some of the bravest men I’ve known would balk at that.”  He glanced back at his nephew, who had retrieved the suitcase and was walking towards the exit without comment.  “I underestimated him, myself. I’ll never forgive myself.”  His voice dropped, and he leaned in conspiratorially.  “I lost a custody battle with him.  It cost me my practice in the states.  The man was a monster, and I left him as guardian of my dear, departed brother’s only son for fifteen years because I was bitter about that one case.  I don’t pretend to understand the situation between you, but I assure you it’s nothing compared to the betrayal he’s faced in his life.  He needs you, probably more than he needs me.  Please, Mr. Wright.”  His grey eyes glinted earnestly, and Phoenix for the first time in years Phoenix wondered what Miles would have turned out like with a less traumatic background. “For the ride over, at least.”  He turned to catch up to Miles.

Against his better judgment, Phoenix followed him.  

The conversation on the way was limited by the crowds and noise and the sheer difficulty of keeping Miles in sight as he wove through people and cars with the air of someone who flew constantly, and he didn’t address either of the men until he arrived at his car. Finally he turned, and seemed to notice for the first time that Phoenix hadn’t left.  Phoenix stood still guiltily, like a child awaiting punishment, for the surprise to turn to resentment, but it never did.  “Let me see if I can get this in the trunk.”  he finally said.  “It might be tight, but we should manage.”

“You have your father’s taste in vehicles, I see.”  Robert smiled, and it took Phoenix a tense second to notice the shy, barely-repressed grin as Miles mumbled a thanks.  It hadn’t occurred to him just how little Miles must know about his father.  Truth, justice, protecting people that couldn’t protect themselves, all of that had become a mantra that stuck with the boy until adulthood, but little things, preferred movies, book, foods… Most of it wouldn’t come up in normal conversation with a nine year old.  He had been denied so much of his family for so long. Phoenix watched the two other men talk with relative ease as Miles somehow managed to get the huge suitcase into the back of the car.

He felt like an intruder in an extremely intimate scene, and at the same time he felt immensely blessed to be here at such a magical event in his partner’s life.  Miles turned to Phoenix again when he closed the trunk.  He seemed to be waiting for some response.  “I… I can still get lost if you want.  I realize how important this is,” he offered lamely.

“I’m not asking you to leave.”  Miles replied.  He certainly wasn’t asking Phoenix to stay either, but after everything the prosecutor been subjected to today, he deserved to have his partner stick out his own neck.

“I...” Phoenix cleared his throat.  “I’m sorry about everything.  I should know by now not to listen to Gumshoe.”

“And I should have known better than to think I’d managed to keep him from interfering.”

“I,” Words were so stupid.  In all these thousands of years, why hadn’t mankind invented a way for people to actually communicate their feelings.  “I’ve just felt so useless lately.  All I do is cause problems for you.”

“If you think we started dating because I thought being in close proximity to you would make my life less complicated, I’m afraid you’re very much in error.”

“No, I...”  Over Miles’ shoulder, Phoenix could see Robert jerking his head towards his nephew.  He wasn’t quite sure what it was meant to suggest, but if their short conversation had been any indication Robert was expecting something.  “I...”  He stepped forward with no real plan.  “I...”  Up this close, Miles was even more breathtaking, and somehow even more exhausted than he had looked earlier.  “Oh, Miles...”  His brain was still telling him that this was all stupid, he didn’t even deserve to touch Miles after everything he’d put them through today.  He ignored that voice and wrapped his arms around his poor, exhausted boyfriend.

Miles was all one tense muscle as Phoenix settled into him, wrapping his arms tighter as he was enveloped in the familiar smell and warmth and realized that the last time they’d just gotten lost in each other he had been a single man with a career ahead of him. That was lifetimes away, but here was Miles, still warm and solid and… familiar.  Somehow, despite Phoenix’s terrible luck and horrendous judgment, this was still available.  “I’m sorry,” Phoenix whispered, “so sorry.  I just wanted you to be happy.  Tell me what I can do for you.”

Miles hadn’t let go of his tension yet.  “I don’t expect you to be a fountain of joy for me.”  he replied tersely.

“I know, I know.”  Phoenix whispered.  “But I still want to make you as happy as you make me.”  There was a pained croak in the back of Miles’ throat, and he squeezed harder.  “I didn’t think I should get in your way, but Trucy told me if I really loved you, I’d come kiss you goodbye.  I just wanted to tell you I’d miss you...”  There were tears coming now, and he didn’t try to hide them.  “Good god, I’d miss you, Miles.  But I wanted you to know that as long as you’re willing to even hint you might come back some day, I can wait forever.”

[coffee-for-himchan]

Unable To Protect You (Yongguk mafia/gang AU pt.1)

Requested by: 2 (!!) nice and cool anons

Word count: 6.2 k+

Genre/warnings: Mafia/gang AU (contains a swear word or two. Also contains violence, and contains a lot of flashbacks and emotional pain. But, as always - imo nothing too vivid.)

Summary: Him and Himchan were done with all of the dirty work for the day. Another person down, and the burdens of knowing a life had been taken once again hanging on his shoulders, dragging him down lower to the ground. Yet when he came home, his dangerous and dark attire faded away completely as he let himself be held by your arms, letting your reassuring whispers fill his ears. He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t a bad person. He simply fought for his own survival and for the lives of his loved ones. Which, looking at the situation, would once again be much harder, since an old, unwanted and uninvited guest had appeared on the scene. Threatening to kill him, and threatening to make you his by rather cruel and painful methods.

(A/N) Three mafia AUs done, three to go! Part two of this should be up sometime tomorrow or on Tuesday. And, in case you like this one and haven’t read the others yet, consider checking out the Himchan mafia AU or the Jongup mafia AU, or maybe both! ^.^

THIS IS PART 1 // PART 2 IS HERE

“Are we done here yet?”

Himchan turned to face him, a playful smile appearing on his lips. He watched the close to fragile figure in front of him, and kept wondering how this guy had managed to get so far.

How his face screamed danger, yet he was the most peaceful of all when he wasn’t shooting. How he looked like trouble, yet moved so slowly and unwillingly when he wasn’t in the middle of an argument. How he had too much soul to handle, and how that drew him lower and lower into the abyss of pain and desperation with every single passing day, as for his line of work, he had a too complex mind, with little space for letting go of things and too much space for remembering.

How he was the strongest warrior of all - Bang Yongguk. The man who could single-handed bring the whole world to his feet, but would never do it, simply because he had too much respect for it.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“No,” his answer was simple and short, cutting through the otherwise silent night air with ease, “I’m just tired.”

“Let me get rid of the last evidence first and then we can leave.”

They did so soon enough, filling the quiet alleyway with their intimidating shadows creeping alongside the walls of the old, abandoned and destroyed buildings as their footsteps echoed down the street, their shoes seeming a little too fancy and expensive for this dirty place.

But that’s who they were. Young, handsome men who looked like the gentleman every girl would more or less willingly want to lay her eyes on. The guys to open doors for others, and talk in a smart, polite fashion that made everyone around them think they were the best kind. The ones who treated people right. The ones who were perfect.

Yet the only thing they were indeed perfect at was shooting. And killing. And getting needed information, and what not else - they were quite multi-talented in their survival. In reality, they were the guys your mom warned you about and guys who knew what mercy meant as a term, but were quite bad at using it practically.

Being the Best Absolute Perfect - the best guys out of all of the bad ones - was their calling. And at this point in time they couldn’t be more grateful for who they’d become over the time, because they knew they’d manage. They’d shaped themselves and made their permanent existence in the area more than simply intimidating and bloody obvious. They were “The King”.

“I’ve never seen you hurrying home like this before, friend,” Yongguk barely noticed Himchan’s a little too loud and all over the place talking, slowly turning his head to eye him up and down.

“Get some glasses then, it’s been like this for a year already,” he answered, tucking his freezing hands into his pockets as Himchan laughed at his unusually sarcastic remark.

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

Silence filled the void between them as Yongguk looked into the distance, his breath rising up in the air and making little twirls as it faded away into the night. It was the start of November for a reason, after all, and this was only the start. It was about to get colder.

“Kim Himchan, am I allowed to have a private life?” He turned his head to face his friend once again, even though he knew the answer already.

He wasn’t allowed, because Himchan was a part of it, and has been since quite some time ago when they had nothing but each other and a will to survive left.

“Not on my watch,” Himchan said, smiling as he joined in and tucked his hands in his pockets as well. His standard signature phrase that could almost always be heard only in conversation with Yongguk. He’d spilled it once again.

Yongguk chuckled a little, watching him carefully. God, what he could’ve actually accomplished in life if it wasn’t for the whole gang thing. He’d been gifted with a picture perfect face, and, even though his behavior could be more on the immature side at times, he served good as a leader. Who knows? He could’ve been a local business owner, or a good lawyer or something. He had the brains, and even more than that, the ability to talk with people well. He had the charms to convince anyone who listened to do unbelievable things and to go to unimaginable extents, and his charisma could draw a quite big following of beautiful women to choose one from. And, over all, he had enough honesty and dignity still left to be able to digest that type of life and live it to the fullest.

Yet he was here. Wandering the streets just to get back to a safe place and stay unnoticed after another murder mission alongside with Yongguk. Once again, after more than ten years, they were still at it, refusing to let the other four handle it all on their own.

Because the younger ones could be the main mechanisms and best shots at most of the missions nowadays, but they knew nothing compared to these two. The hyungs would still take upon the most important things, just to keep in mind how having to do the dirty work and coming home with blood stained hands felt like. Because that’s where their roots laid, and that’s where they believed they came from. Never forgetting your beginnings was the most important thing.

“Hey, I don’t blame you at all,” Himchan said, smiling up at the sky a little, “After all, I haven’t seen you acting this way before you met her.”

“What way?” Yongguk questioned quietly, focusing on the main street ahead of them. Soon they’d have to part, walking their separate ways for the night and staying in the shadows until the reports would come on the news and TV yet again. It was the regular, really.

“I’ve got my own fair trade of issues, and you know that. Mental, which keep me from sleeping soundly at night, and physical as well. I didn’t take the last major encounter especially well, gotta admit. It still feels like my left arm is of no use.”

“But fact is, if there was one person who’s been sinking further down with every passing day from the very start, it’s you, my friend,” Himchan said, letting Yongguk devour those words a little before continuing.

“You’re too much of a “Mr. Right” to be a part of this lifestyle, yet you always keep going on with no perspective in mind. You don’t even care if you’re going to make it, which is about the scariest thing there is about you, if you ask me. And for the longest time you’d been fighting with no reason.“

"Hey, I’ve always had my reasons. Who else is going to watch you, leader loud-mouth?”

Himchan chuckled yet again at the remark, looking somewhat pleased with the title Yongguk had gifted him with.

“I appreciate it, really. You know that at this point it’d be hard to continue surviving without each other. I’d made so many mistakes in the past and even the present, just to get all of them fixed up by you while I did vice versa later on. But ever since.. You know what happened.. And since you gave up on your leader positions, you’d become even less invested in this whole thing, which, looking at how you’d never liked this life you’re leading in the first place, is quite dangerous.”

Silence filled the air yet again. They both knew there were just a few more steps till they’d be back on the main streets, and Himchan patiently waited for Yongguk to say something before they would eventually have to part ways.

“Himchan,” he finally spoke, stopping and looking him right into the eyes, “I really appreciate the worry, but I’ll manage. I’ve always did, and nothing will stop me from continuing on the same way. In the worst case, you’ll slap me in the face and make me move, just like you used to. But I will always keep my guard up high and my expectations of the world down low. I know nothing’s fair, despite being so beautiful, and everything hurts and itches. It’s quite tragically devastating actually. I’m aware. I’ll manage.”

“Without a doubt,” Himchan walked out into the street, the street lights highlighting his amazing bone structure and making his gaze look even more amused but yet so dangerous, “You have no choice now, since you took her in.”

“You generally learned how it is to care for someone - someone who’s too vulnerable and fragile to keep herself safe on her own. You learned that not everything and everyone except the five of us would always be against you in this world,” he was already walking away, leaving Yongguk to stand alone and tap his feet on a puddle, “She’s waiting for you right now, and you know that. She’s cutting her sleep short just to welcome you back home like no one else will ever do. While everyone fears you, she loves you. Not caring how many men you’d gotten rid of tonight, and not caring about your intentions. She blindly trusts you, and you trust her. And if that isn’t beautifully destroying, I don’t know what is.”

One moment he was there, and the next he was gone, leaving Yongguk to hang his head down lower and walk back home through the pouring rain. Who needed cars anyways? He lived quite nearby, and walking hadn’t hurt anyone yet.

Himchan had always been right, no matter the situation, and the way back home seemed painfully long because of all of the thoughts creeping into his head. Yet he couldn’t help but agree that all of those statements were true within seconds of thinking. He didn’t doubt it even once.

He doubted it even less when he dragged himself through the door, kicking off his shoes just to wander into the living room doorway and stop at the mesmerizing sight in front of him.

You were dancing. To one of the vinyl recordings from his collection.

Your body looked so beautiful, and he wondered how you ever let it trail against his. How your smooth skin never minded the touch of his rough and scarred one, and how you always found pleasure in the parts of him he hated the most. Your movements were subtle and little, yet quite eye catching and pleasing as your hips swayed from side to side, and your quiet humming could be heard all through the room. Your eyes were closed, and your head was slightly tilted upwards, letting the moonlight shine right onto your chest. You moved, until you felt his presence and slowed down, turning to him in a swift, elegant move and letting your stare meet with his longing one.

He stood there, all across the room, watching you. The way his shirt that you’d snatched away looked so huge and loose on you, drowning out your frame in it completely. How it looked so aesthetically pleasing with your knee socks to extents that made you look like a goddess rather than a hot mess in his eyes. He had to resist not to let all of his senses kick into overdrive and have all of you at once, right then and there.

“Yongguk..”

He heard his name and carefully watched how it left your lips - how it stayed hanging in the air for a little before completely disappearing without leaving a single trace. How it only managed to sound this gentle and soft when you said it. Your feet started slowly moving towards him, but he was too out of this world to see. He barely even noticed when your hands reached to rest on his chest.

“You’re freezing, Yongguk..”

He did nothing and just stood there, his body willingly obeying to every movement you put it through. Your hands slid carefully over his shoulders, freeing him from his jacket slowly. His eyes never left yours even once during this whole time, savoring every given moment. How you undressed him from the cold, wet jacket, being a little too caught up in the moment and simply throwing it to the side, deciding you’d take care of it later. How your arms found their way back around his neck to rest on his shoulders in seconds, as they knew their desired route perfectly. How you simply looked at him, your eyes displaying the fact that you knew.

You knew he was bad. But you didn’t mind.

“I killed a man today,” he quietly said, feeling like he could tell you all his sins and be forgiven for them all at once, “And, because I killed a man, I am no good for you.”

It was going to be one of these evenings. He kept coming home emotionally crushed beyond belief more and more often, and you couldn’t help but simply feel worried about him. He was thinking again. About how bad he was. About all the things he’d done in life. Thinking about how he’d become the thing he initially feared and hated.

“Yongguk.. I thought we had talked it out…”

His hands eventually found the right path to trail down as well, holding your hips tightly in place as he felt he was drawing his face closer to yours once again.

“Why do you keep doing this?” his breath itched against your skin as he let his hand trail up and down your side, feeling every curve, and every part of you that took his breath away oh so often, “Why do you keep telling me it’s alright?”

You had his marks on you, one of them beautifully displayed on your neck for him to admire, distracting him from thinking straight. He could clearly make out the shape of his lips, drawn onto your skin ever so roughly in red and purple lines, and he was amazed by how he could’ve been the creator of something so beautiful. His hand eventually reached to trace the mark, and he ran his fingers over it, remembering how he made that happen. Remembering sinking his lips into your skin, waiting for your approval and allowance to continue. Remembering wanting to go gentle at you, but losing himself somewhere along the way when you told him he could do it all. Remembering your parted lips. Your tiny whimpers of pleasure and slight pain that twisted with it. The feeling of you grabbing the back of his shirt, and eventually his skin later on, when the shirt was removed and you were off to do more serious things.

He remembered apologizing for scarring you the next morning, and he remembered receiving another “it’s fine”.

“Because it really is,” you saw his stare fixated on the bruise on your neck, and knew what would eventually follow, as it happened every damn time he marked you somewhere there. His hand always kept travelling where it shouldn’t.

“It isn’t,” with a swift move, he’d exposed your left shoulder, leaving his hand to rest on it. You knew what was to come, and at this point you were already braced for it. Ready to stand the storm.

“I’m no good for you, babe,” he said quietly, tracing over the large scar all across your shoulder, “Because I was there when this happened. Yet I couldn’t help in time, because I was busy with other things.”

“Those other things being looking out for the members of your team, and I think that keeping everyone alive is more important than preventing me from getting hurt,” you felt how he traced the outline of the scar, and even though his heart clenching wasn’t quite visible on the outside, you knew he was a wreck deep inside currently. Such a beautiful disaster.

“Keeping everyone on our side alive just to take other lives seconds later, babe. You keep forgetting, or rather ignoring that,” he added, and stayed silent for a moment.

You could be anywhere in the world right now, yet you were here. Spending your days with the silent, closed-in monster that he was. Letting him find a place he could call home in your actions and intentions. Allowing him to destroy you in the most beautiful ways just to fix you up later on.

Holding him in a standing position when he felt like collapsing and becoming one with the ground.

His hands made a quick, sharp movement, sliding to rest on your sides as he pinned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and exhaling rather loudly.

“How comes you’re still here?”

“You saved me. And even before you’d done that, I already loved you. So why shouldn’t I stay?”

“You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, right?”

“I’m fully aware. But I want to,” he opened his eyes, looking at you as you bit your lip right before the next sentence.

“You’re not bad at all, Yongguk-ah. You’re the most honest, truest person there’s ever been in my life, and I truly don’t care about your wrongdoings, because at the end of the day, the people you get rid of are the ones who make this world a living hell.”

“And to me you’ll always be nothing but the love of my life and a savior,” you finished, giving him the last little push he needed, in the form of a hand at the back of his head that moved him in the right direction, gently placing his lips on yours.

A savior. That had to be a lie or a joke, right?

Yet it felt like neither one of those when you kissed him, and he couldn’t help but do the same back to you in a similar intensity and fashion. Tugging at your clothes for support. Pinning you against him fully, leaving no space in between your bodies whatsoever. Refusing to take a breath in between, because, even if every sane person would disagree, he was convinced you were more important than oxygen.

Showing you he needed you.

You glanced over at his sleeping frame that evening, admiring his true face and colors. He’d come home once again with nothing but compunction in his heart and mind, and it drew him to kiss you full-force for a while before collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep before you even managed to scold him for not eating dinner.

He wasn’t tired, you knew. He never seemed to be. He just had too much on his mind yet again, and needed to drown all of that out in the most effective ways.

Him shifting and clenching on the blankets a little made you chuckle, as well as wonder how anyone he’d ever had business with would react to seeing him this way. To seeing the intimidating former leader, the one with the frightening gaze and unpleasantly low voice so vulnerable, and so.. hurt.

Yes. He was hurting tons, and you didn’t know what to do about it.

It was a thing he carried from the very past, a thing that had been programmed into his systems and present in his roots all along. The constant realization he was no good, and the thought of doing the thing he was against much too often for his liking.

Hurting people. Bringing violence everywhere he went. Shooting on quite a few occasions instead of talking it out.

Even if it was to make this world an a little safer place, and to guarantee their well-being and survival, he wasn’t having it. Even if the people he killed were no good, and had been wrecking mad havoc and destroying things and lives for years, he wasn’t having any of that. 

He was still no good, and it hurt him to unimaginable extents. But it had been like this forever, and, at this point, nothing could ever change that.

He knew nightmares would haunt him the second he climbed under the blankets. But what he got instead was vivid dreams of how it used to be. A reminder of how he became who he was now.

He’d always been the quiet one, rather standing in the corner and observing than going out to do anything. He never had a lot of friends, but he didn’t mind being lonely at all. He liked the peacefulness, and there were few times he felt like something was wrong with the way his life had unfolded. There were few times he would realize how no one would give him a helping hand in any situation, because there simply wasn’t anyone in his life to do so. And he rarely noticed how he’d always have to deal with it alone.

That is, until he met no other than Kim Himchan.

It was a regular boy’s fight in the yard about a toy. Yongguk must’ve been around seven years old at that point, and happened to be there when a bunch of boys a year or two older than him approached.

“What’s this stupidity?” one called out, snatching the Tigger toy out of Yongguk’s hands before he could react, “Oh wow, this is so lame!!”

“Don’t you have any cool stuff?” another one leaned it, saying it right to his face mockingly, “Like, a water gun or something.”

Yongguk looked up at them with a gaze that made them freeze on the spot for a while, his answer being short and clear, just as always.

“No. This is all I have. Now give it back.”

Needless to say, they didn’t, which lead to Yongguk trying to snatch it away from them and being unsuccessful.

“Look at him! What do you think you’re doing!?” the boy holding the toy laughed loudly, and pushed Yongguk back. He stumbled, almost falling to the ground, but managed to stay in a standing position.

“I think we should show him his place, right, guys?”

The approval could be heard all through the yard, and Yongguk took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come.

He knew he would get beaten up. And he knew that in theory he should fight back. But is there any use on doing so, if there’s three of them, and they’re all older, automatically being taller and stronger as well?

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Yongguk heard an unfamiliar voice coming from behind, but didn’t dare to look back. His full attention was still focused on the boys in front of him, and he saw them looking past him and at the mysterious speaker.

“Who are you anyways? Get lost, this is none of your business!” the toy was thrown to the ground, and the boy made his way over to do the first punch.

A punch to the gut, but he was still standing still. His insides hurt at the deep impact with the boy’s fist, yet he managed to hold his grounds perfectly, not saying a thing and simply staring at the ground.

“What an idiot,” he chuckled, giving another punch that seemed to have no effect either, “Still holding on. What for? There’s no one to help you-”

Slap.

It was a moment in time, as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The boy’s hand was smacked away with quite an unbelievable force, and soon enough he received a slap to his face as well.

“Get away.”

It was the stranger from before - the one who had spoken earlier. He was standing next to Yongguk now, and ready to join the fight.

Still taken aback, Yongguk eyed him up and down quietly. He was a little shorter, and possibly younger than him as well. Yet he was a loud mouth - the complete opposite of Yongguk - as well as someone who couldn’t watch a situation like this unfold and not do anything about it. He was the first person whom Yongguk ever met that had the same perception as him - the opinion that certain people who hadn’t done anything bad didn’t deserve to go through unfair things and conditions in life.

The inevitable happened, and soon the three boys left, leaving behind two beaten up younger ones and a toy carelessly thrown to the ground.

The stranger was the first one to move, sitting up and coughing a bit. With a shaky hand, he reached towards the toy and picked it up, handing it to Yongguk who had already sat up as well.

“Here. A bit dirty, but fixable,” he said, giving an a little pained smile.

Yongguk hesitantly stretched out his arm to grab the toy, and looked at him in disbelief. He didn’t trust him or his intentions at all. There hadn’t been anyone who had simply helped him for nothing out of the blue just yet.

“Why did you try to stand up for me?”

The boy shrugged, tilting his head to the side and thinking, “I mean, are you saying I should’ve left you there alone for them to make fun of? Not on my watch.”

“You knew what would happen. They’re stronger, and there’s more of them. We had no chances of winning anyways.”

“Hah, you didn’t even try,” he laughed, getting up to his feet, “And that’s why you lost so soon.”

“There was no use anyways. There was no way we could’ve won. So why should I try if I know that it won’t do or change anything?” Yongguk slowly took the boy’s, standing up to his feet and wondering what had suddenly made him so talkative. He hated talking, after all.

“Why not? Are you simply going to stand the fact that they’re treating you like they shouldn’t? Or are you going to try and do your best to make the situation fair?”

Yongguk looked at him in disbelief. He was the first person who understood. The first to spark some type of desire in him to actually try, and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of him.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Himchan. I live nearby.”

“O-oh yeah, I think I’ve seen you around.. I-I’m Yongguk..”

The scenery seemed so clear, and it felt like all of that had happened just yesterday. How both boys stood under the trees in the middle of the yard, getting to know each other and thinking of how to explain the bruises to their families later on. It was the first time he met Kim Himchan, and it became far from the last time he’d see him.

A few years is what it took to turn the situation completely around. Left without a family, without a home and a place to go back to, they both aimlessly wandered the streets. Fire. Murders. Police sirens everywhere. And they fled, being afraid of what might follow after everything they’d just been through. Being fourteen years of age was enough, right? They would manage.

Getting involved with gangs happened quite accidentally, but as they got into the business, they weren’t allowed to make a run from it.

“Weren’t you against unfairness?” Yongguk hissed as Himchan got ready for another one of the few missions they’d been on already, loading his gun.

Yongguk had been there for this whole time with him, but hadn’t shot even once. He refused to do so, because that would mean hurting people. And he wasn’t about to hurt anybody.

“I am, I promise,” Himchan threw him a gun, knowing a little too well he wouldn’t use it anyways, “But tell me, what other possibilities do we have right now? What else do you have left?”

“Death.”

“Not on my watch.”

Yongguk sighed, knowing there was no way to argue back. Himchan had been the person to hold him above water level for all of these years, and he wasn’t about to give up on him.

He’d been more than simply useless all this time, tagging along, but not doing anything to help out and fight back. He’d been threatened by the gang that he’d be simply gotten rid of if he didn’t start being useful, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything even after all of that, making Himchan work for both of them.

He couldn’t bring himself to hurt people.

“Do you really think anyone who’s been taken care of so far didn’t deserve it?” Himchan’s question snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Well, they did. But the same could be said about you. You’re doing just the same as them. Killing.”

“But I’m not doing it for wealth or power. I’m doing it to guarantee your and my survival. I’m simply fighting back, and if something would happen to me, I’d accept it.”

A shot in the side. And he indeed did accept it.

Yongguk felt his world breaking apart at the sight in front of him. How Himchan’s frame had been beside him all along, until at some point it crashed to the ground, revealing a rather large, bleeding wound on the side.

“Himchan! W-what-”

“Shoot, you idiot, will ya!? Save yourself at least, since I can’t do that anymore.”

And with tear strained cheeks, he obeyed. His hands were shaking and his aim wasn’t the best, but it was just good enough to cover him and Himchan who’d sat up at that point, breathing heavily and trying not to pass out from the immense pain.

“Hold on, do you hear!?” Himchan chuckled at how shitlessly scared and caring, as well as frightened Yongguk sounded. He’d never seen him that way, and he had to admit - it was not simply unusual, but even scary to some extent. Chucking hurt though, so Himchan simply leaned back, focusing to keep his consciousness. “Yessir,” he quietly muttered, his vision blurry, but his head still clear.

It was the day Himchan could’ve died, but because of a lucky coincidence he didn’t. And it was the day Yongguk first used a gun against somebody.

The first time he killed a man.

He sat next to Himchan who was lying medicated and bandaged up in bed, and thought. He’d killed a man. He’d caused violence, and had broken the morals he’d kept up for so long. But what for?

For the sake of the only person left in his life, who managed to stay alive thanks to his efforts. Alive, because he shot and made sure he’d manage.

Suddenly, all colors drained and he was left in his beloved black and white. The sight in front of him got blurry and twisted into wicked shapes, before clearing up again. Yongguk found himself watching the same event happening from the distance, as if he was a third person watching from afar. But something seemed to be off this time around.

“Yongguk-ah!! I can’t do it on my own,” Himchan screamed, shots being fired his way at an alarming rate, “I need backup!!”

Yongguk saw himself not far away from Himchan, and what this other self he was observing now said left him choking on plain air and unable to speak or move.

“Himchan, why should I?” his voice sounded cold and careless, displaying no emotions whatsoever, “There’s more of them than there’s us, and they’re older, taller and stronger. We won’t win anyways.”

“Yongguk-ah, stop being dumb and help-”

Shoot. Right in the side.

They made eye contact, and Yongguk watched the blood coming out of and dripping from Himchan’s mouth. Dark red, thick liquid stained his chin as he hit the ground. The blood was the only colorful thing in the black and white scenery, and it was a nice finishing touch, making the view more than simply tragical and devastatingly painful.

Another shot followed, and he fell to the ground, gathering up his last strength to shoot a few more times. He struggled to keep his balance, and his eyes seemed to refuse to cooperate - they constantly wanted to fall shut at the immense pain.

He continued shooting just to cover Yongguk - the person he cased about. The person who could’ve prevented all of this from happening, yet didn’t.

“Hold..On… And don’t you dare-Ahhh.” he received another shot, and at this point the ending was inevitable. His body was too damaged to keep him alive for much longer.

“Don’t you dare dying, Yongguk…”

Cold sweat was dripping from his forehead as Yongguk woke up in the middle of the night, his heart racing at an alarming rate.

No, no, no. None of that had ever happened. He shot, and Himchan survived. And from then on, they always shot together. Always worked as a team, to not only keep their lives, but to get rid of dangerous people so they couldn’t harm anyone anymore. But, even though he saved him, he didn’t prevent the most important person in his life from getting hurt though, and now Himchan wore a rather large scar on his skin for the rest of his life that showed off Yongguk’s weakness.

And you did just the same.

“Yongguk-ah..” he heard you mumbling in your sleep, and only now really understood what had really happened.

A nightmare. Thank god.

His sudden movements and heavy breathing had caused you to react, and you buried your face further into his neck as the grip of your hand on his shoulder tightened.

“Yongguk-ah.. It’s fine..” you were talking in your sleep, making him realize that this was probably the phrase you’d told him the most during all this time you’d spent together with him. All you ever did apart from loving him unconditionally was reassuring him that all was fine.

He gulped a little, closing his eyes and trying to calm his breathing. His hand trailed to rest on your arm, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. He didn’t want to wake you up and make you worry about him. There was no need to do so, because it had all just been a bad dream. A horrible nightmare.

“It’s fine, (Y/N), I know. It’s fine..”

It wouldn’t be like that for much longer though.

Himchan crashed his place the next morning, being closely followed by Junhong who always tagged along whenever there was something related to Yongguk, no matter the situation.

You were still sleeping when you heard voices coming from the hallway. You froze at first, realizing there was more than just one voice there and Yongguk wasn’t in bed next to you anymore, but soon you understood who those voices belonged to. You knew everyone in B.A.P just like the back of your hand, and after the fear had died down you recognized Himchan’s nasal voice and Junhong’s fast manner of talking. And Yongguk’s low, inaudible sentences, of course.

Climbing out of bed carefully and taking a few steps towards the door, you listened carefully and were wary not to make a sound. Eavesdropping wasn’t good, but their visit at such a time of day couldn’t mean anything good. And if Yongguk was in trouble or danger, you simply had to know.

“We have to get her away from here.”

“But where to? Do you think keeping her around at the base would be a much better idea?”

“It would be slightly safer. I know the base should technically be a more dangerous place, since all six of us could be there at any point, but it’s you he’s searching for. And it’s her he wants.”

“And this isn’t a safe place anymore, Yongguk hyung. Not after all of those threats..”

The floor creaked, and three pairs of eyes were staring at you within milliseconds. You cursed to yourself a little - shifting on spot wasn’t really necessary, but you still did it, causing noise and ruining your perfect hideout.

It took you only seconds to realize you really didn’t want Himchan and Junhong to see you this way. Messy-haired, sleepy-eyed and with nothing besides your underwear and Yongguk’s loose, big shirt that looked like a dress on you covering you. Remembering the bruises and love bites on your neck only added to your embarrassment, but you couldn’t really go away now. You were trapped, and had to simply wait.

“Yongguk-ah.. Is something wrong?”

He looked at both men at first, earning a glance from them as well. Junhong waved, and Himchan bowed a little before disappearing through the door without any explanations, and it was just you and Yongguk in the apartment once again.

“I heard you talking, and.. I really didn’t want to listen at first, but it seemed like you were talking about something really important, and..”

“It’s fine, (Y/N),” he said quietly, giving you another look before gesturing for you to come out of the room and into the hallway. He watched as your slightly frightened frame disconnected from the doorway, and he carefully listened to how your bare feet hit the floor with little thuds, making close to unnoticeable sounds as you came closer.

“Now listen carefully, babe,” his hands met with yours, and he intertwined your fingers with his, putting you slightly at ease, but just until the next sentence.

“Minjae’s back..”

You felt all of your senses leaving your body as fear strained your vision and you felt like collapsing on the ground.

“No.. Please tell me this isn’t true..”

Your eyes met with his, and his heart started clenching. You looked so fragile, and so unprotected - so alone in this dangerous environment. But he wasn’t going to let absolutely anything happen to you. Putting a hand on your cheek, he drew a few circles with his thumb before pulling your face closer, and letting you bury your face in his chest.

“Do you need time to process, or can I speak on?” He asked quietly, earning a muffled sound from you that he took as allowance to continue.“You know what this means. He won’t let you live in peace, and he won’t let me live at all. So now we have to take care of the situation.”

“How?” you quietly asked, gripping at the back of his shirt as he held you in his arms tightly.

“First of, we have to get you out of here. Himchan is right. It’s better if you stay at the base than if you stay here. There’s six of us there to protect you instead of one that’s rather emotionally unstable and constantly drowning in sorrows-”

“And what then? I’ll be safe, but what’s going to happen to you?”

He stayed silent for a bit, considering. He knew his limits, and they were way below Minjae’s. He knew this was close to impossible, and that he wouldn’t be able to handle it on his own.

So why try? 

But your silent sniffing and the way your body tried to repress sobs as it shook a little against his own was enough for him to want to slap himself all across the face. He was acting weak again, and this time around it wasn’t him who mattered.

You were there with him. In his shirt, with his marks on you and in his arms. With a bruise on your left shoulder that he couldn’t prevent from being left on your precious, soft skin.

You were his. And he was responsible for you, because he swore to take good care of you.

“I’m going to do my best to prevent anything bad from happening,” he quietly said in your ear, making you feel uneasy.

“Yongguk-ah.. Please, don’t put yourself in danger for my sake-”

“I won’t put myself in danger,” you felt his grip tighten around you, and soon your head was lifted by his hand to look back at him.

Rage. Plain rage and nothing else could be seen in his eyes. He wasn’t scared anymore. He wasn’t having self-doubts. He was simply pissed beyond belief and to the last bone.

“I won’t put myself in danger, because I’m going to become the fucking danger,” his tone was harsh, making you flinch a little, “And anyone who’ll try to put a hand on my girl is going to go down. Everyone who will try harming you will pay for it. They will get their bones crushed, and their hearts decorated with gunshot wounds, or ripped out if I feel like it. I will have no second thoughts in doing all of that to them, and if God won’t forgive me for protecting one of the only people who truly matter to me, may hell have all of me, because I’m going to just what I promised. Understood?”

Shaking your head and indicating you’d heard him, you were still a little frightened by his sudden emotional outburst. That was nowhere near his typical nature. Nowhere near his “peaceful guy” aura. Yet he sounded so genuinely true when he said all of that, it made you really believe him.

All of a sudden he leaned in to softly kiss you. All of the anger was gone within seconds, and his kiss was soothing medication, telling you that you’d be just fine, as long as he was by your side. Telling you that he was there, and that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. Telling you he’d prevent you from getting any more scars to remind him every day of how he wasn’t able to protect you back then when you needed it the most. Giving you a safe place to stay at, right in the middle of his heart.

“Go pack a few things, babe,” he spoke against your lips softly, “We have to leave as soon as possible. The guys are waiting for us.”

He watched you disappearing though the doorway, and couldn’t help but clench his hands into fists until his knuckles turned white.

You getting hurt? Not on his watch.

That asshole would definitely pay for all he’d done and all he intended to do.

[monstabaebae]

Sunrise and Sunset (M)

Thank you for the request anon! I hope this story is to your liking! Thank you for being so patient with me and requesting, I love and appreciate your support! Enjoy!

Characters: Shownu, Kihyun and the rest of Monsta X Genre: Assassin AU, Romance Warnings: Smut for one scene and it’s mostly vanilla, use of weapons/mild violence,  Rating: M Word Count: 5.5k  Plot: Why did the infamous Kihyun leave his job as a hitman for love? It all began with a fear of heights, murder and sunsets… Credit to the gif owner!

The sun was beginning to set over the Seoul skyline. High schoolers and adults moving like ants as they made their way to the nearest transportation to rest for the night. A long day of hard-work deserved rest in the shade of the world, if only for a few hours.

Except for Yoo Kihyun.

The dark-haired male was sitting on top of Seoul Tower, overlooking the view of the city below. Endless dots of people roamed the streets, every speck having some sort of destination in mind, the crowds growing smaller with each minute.

“Reminiscing, Kihyun?” A voice called.

Kihyun turned his head to see a man in a black trench coat, wearing a cat-like smile and a flicker of mischief in his brown eyes. Well, what could be seen of them behind his mop of floppy blonde hair.

“Why are you here?” Kihyun raised an eyebrow before returning his gaze back to the city.

“Well, word on the street is that you come here all the time so I thought I’d pay you a visit. Especially after everything that’s happened…” The man trailed off, reaching into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes.

The cigarette didn’t make it to his lips as a small dagger cut through the cancer stick and pierced into the gated wall beside the blonde’s head.

“I won’t miss next time, Minhyuk.” Kihyun adjusted his sleeve, a smaller blade with a purple tint on the tip falling into his hand. His eyes never moved.

“I know you won’t.” Minhyuk laughed, putting the cigarettes back in his pocket and looking at the blade in the wall. “But to think how your skills have gone to waste, now that you’re a rouge.”

Silence.

The blonde sighed, averting his eyes to the sky above, despite how close it was already. “Tell me, was he worth it?”

The only sound that could be heard was the wind hitting their clothing, the air suddenly growing cold. The sound was so sudden and loud, that Minhyuk almost didn’t hear Kihyun’s response.

Almost.

“I see. Well, I hope it was for the best. I never knew that Yoo Kihyun would give up his assassin career and the dreams of a lifetime, for love. Then again, I never took you to be a fan of heights either.”

Turning towards the door, Minhyuk dropped the box of cigarettes on the ground with a wave of his hand. “I wish you luck. And maybe we’ll see each other again.”

Kihyun was left once again with his thoughts, the same thoughts that cause him to come up here in the first place. Despite everything he went through, he was still back to staring at everything below.

And to thoughts of him.

Kihyun hated heights.

The way everything looked farther away, the way his vision began to swirl as he imagined falling endlessly into the distortion below. All he thought of was crashing to the ground like a pancake, but whenever he looked up he thought of everything tall crashing into him like a bug. He hated being high up despite striving to be on top.

He was like that since childhood, always avoiding amusement parks and school field trips to any towers or tall buildings. In high school, he avoided class trips and even looking out of the window of the run-down house he and his mother lived in.

Kihyun had no idea why he hated heights so much or where the fear developed from. All he knew was that he had to keep his body and mind on solid ground, and never look down.

But when his mother passed away, he had nowhere to go but to the big city to live with his aunt. He had done pretty-well to stay clear of heights when he lived began to live there, but it was unavoidable in Seoul. There were tall buildings everywhere, not to mention the endless attractions and planes that filled the sky every day. He almost had a panic attack seeing everything, but he learned to cope.

Kihyun was 21 when he took someone’s life. He was walking home after a shift at a nearby café and had to get ready for an exam the following morning. He had to pass over the bridge to get to his house, when a group of men grabbed him from behind.

They were all covered from head to toe in black, reeking of cigarettes and booze. One grabbed him and tried to take his money, while the others tried to beat him to a pulp. He tried to shield his face, but the attacks were coming from everywhere. Soon, he couldn’t feel his limbs and his vision was blurry from the bruises.

Once his belongings were taking, the leader of the gang grabbed him by the wrists and pinned his body against the ledge of the bridge. The water was black, roaring and churning below, sending Kihyun’s mind in a panic.

“You ready to go for a swim, kid?” The man cackled with a smirk, pushing Kihyun’s upper body over the ledge almost playfully. He watched the boy struggle and laughed louder. “What, are you afraid of heights? Don’t worry, you won’t have time to be afraid when your bones snap.”

Whenever Kihyun was asked what happened next, he honestly couldn’t remember. All he knew was that his vision went red for a moment and when he came to, the gang was running away while the leader was nowhere in sight.

He was out of breath and all the pain seemed to set into his bones at one time. He felt as though his entire body was hit by a truck and all he wanted to do was rest. Slowly picking himself up, he attempted to take a few steps, only to feel a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you alright?” The voice was unfamiliar, but Kihyun was too tired to fight back. If the guy wanted to kill him, he could. All he wanted to do was sleep.

“I…I need to get home…” He could barely keep his eyes open, but he caught a glimpse of the owner of the voice before he fell into unconsciousness. Tan skin, a handsome face and plump lips.

The next morning, he woke up in his bed with a pain that nearly knocked him out once more. Looking around blindly, he spotted TV on in the corner and slowly heard sound emitting from the device. It was a news report.

“…Have discovered a body in the water today. The identity of the man is known to be a local troublemaker in Busan and was last seen at a bar near Gangnam. There were no signs of a struggle, but the police believe that this act was no doubt, murder as the victim was pushed over the bridge to his death. If anyone has any tips regarding the case, please contact the police immediately.”

Kihyun felt his blood run cold. That man… he had killed him. Before the panic could set in, another picture popped up. A face that Kihyun had only seen for a moment, but it was engraved in his mind.

“Police have also caught sightings of Son Hyunwoo, famous thief and killer that tends to roam around Seoul. Please call if you see him, he is dangerous and a threat to everyone he comes across.”

Kihyun looked at the picture on the screen, then looked at his surroundings. Had he really seen the same man? What kind of “Dangerous threat” was that man to let someone who had seen his face, go home free?

The raven-haired boy looked at his hands, then blinked in confusion. Now that he thought about it, how had he made it home last night? He could’ve sworn he had passed out on the road, so how…?

Glancing at his bed stand, he spotted his wallet with a small note beside it. Deciding to read the note, he read through the chicken scratch with a hum.

Sorry, I used your I.D to find your address. I made sure to put it back, and I didn’t steal any money or any of your cards. I hope you get better soon. Make sure not to get caught up in any more problems, I won’t be there to save you every time.

                                                                                                                       H.

“Hyunwoo…” Kihyun murmured, looking out his window with a hum. The weather seemed nice, despite the clouds of confusion surrounding his mind.

It wouldn’t be until much later, that Kihyun began to look out the window every morning from that day onwards, not even noticing his acrophobia.

*

Kihyun used that day as a push to work harder every day. He kept his job at the café and continued to go to school, but he was getting involved in special activities outside of his daily routine.

It started off as a hitman job. He had to kill one target and he would get enough money to pay off a semester of school. The job went without a hitch, and he went undetected. He learned from that first mission that he was a tactical killer and worked best with long range weapons.

One target turned into two, then a dozen before Kihyun began to lose track. He was becoming headline news, but no one knew where he could be found or what he even looked like. He worked at separate times on certain days, so his methods and targets couldn’t be connected. He killed each target a different day with a different weapon, like a true killer would.

No matter how many targets he encountered and no matter how much money he would receive, Kihyun always felt restless. He felt like he was searching for something and that by killing he would get closer to finding that ‘something’, but he always fell short.

He had been killing for over two years by this point, and had accumulated more stress than he had thought possible. He never went out to bars or clubs in fear of getting caught, but the pain in his temples was growing to be too much to bear.

Tucking his tools into his bag, he walked off to a local bar. The air was filled with the scent of whiskey, chicken and cheap cigarettes, but he didn’t hesitate to sit at the bar. He ordered a gin and tonic and paid in cash, when someone sat down beside him.

“Long time no see.” The man said, taking back a glass of water with a small grin.

Kihyun nearly spit out his drink in surprise. There’s no way, could it really be…? “Hyunwoo?” He whispered, not daring to speak any louder.

Hyunwoo nodded, his eyes focused on Kihyun as he smiled. “Minhyuk told me you were looking for someone.”

“Word gets around too fast at the Bureau.” Kihyun muttered with a blush. Once his killings had become more frequent and his description got passed around, Kihyun was picked up by an infamous, but very tightly secured, assassin’s group. Minhyuk was one of his colleagues, known for his gruesome way of killing and his love for his vigilante ways. Everyone on the street knew his name, so it was no surprise that a criminal like Hyunwoo knew who Minhyuk was.

“That’s what happens when you work with others, your business can get out pretty fast. But, to each their own.” Hyunwoo hummed, finishing his water and leaning against the counter, his eyes never moving. “So, what brings you out on this fine night? Do you have work?”

It sounded casual, but the word ‘work’ fell a bit too heavy on his tongue. “Not tonight. I just needed some fresh air and something strong to calm my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“There isn’t much to talk about.” Kihyun shrugged, keeping his eyes on the counter of the bar. He honestly wondered if he was dreaming. It’s not like he knew Hyunwoo personally, and Hyungwon didn’t know him, so why were they chatting like they were old friends?

“It’s been two years since I last saw you. You’ve grown up well.” The older man commented, his tone casual, as though the last time they had seen each other Kihyun hadn’t just killed a man after getting brutally mugged and beaten.

“And you’ve been on the news a lot lately.” Kihyun sighed, then added, “Not that I care or anything. But you should be more careful.”

Hyunwoo smiled at this, his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he considered Kihyun with a dimpled grin. “I don’t really care if I get caught. But I’ll see if I can take your advice and not get into so much trouble, as long as you give me something in return.”

“Something in return?” Kihyun echoed, eyebrows raised in curiosity. His drink was gone and he had only had one, but his mind felt strangely light for some reason.

Leaning in close so no one could overhear, Hyunwoo brushed his lips along Kihyun’s ear. “Spend the night with me.”

“What?!” Kihyun exclaimed, pulling away to look at Hyunwoo with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. The bar’s attention shifted to the two men, but Hyunwoo quickly pulled the boy closer to hide their faces. Soon, the patrons went back to whatever conversations they were having without a care in the world.

“I want to spend a night with you. It may sound sudden and strange but… I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Please, just one night.” The tanned male whispered, his voice filled with honesty and something like desperation.

Kihyun was silent for a moment, taking in the information with a purse of his lips. He wondered what was going on in Hyunwoo’s mind, to make such a decision so suddenly.

But then Kihyun remembered the day after the bridge incident, how confused and curious he was about the man in front of him. How he wanted to see his face again, to see if he truly was the man people said he was on TV.

And maybe, he wanted to do a little more than just talk as a thank you.

“My place or yours?” Kihyun mumbled. Hyunwoo laughed.

 *

Hyunwoo’s apartment was simple. Clean hardwood floors with white furniture, a small kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. There were no picture frames or trophies, no signs that anyone truly lived here, save for the dirty plate in the sink and the toothbrush holder in the bathroom.

The taller man locked the door behind them, making sure no one was following them as he took off his jacket. He gently removed Kihyun’s jacket without a word, hanging it up in a small closet before putting on his slippers. (Bunny slippers, strangely.)

“Welcome to my humble abode. Please, make yourself comfortable.” Hyunwoo announced with his usual smile. “Can I get you water or some snacks? I just bought some double stuffed Oreos if you’d like.”

“I’m good.” Kihyun smiled, placing his shoes by the door before sitting on the couch with a nervous hum. “It’s so quiet in here.”

“Yeah, this area has always been a quiet neighborhood. It was perfect for me to do my jobs at night, since it’s in such a rural area, and it keeps me calm on my days off. Perfect place to read on a rainy day, trust me.”

Kihyun imagined Hyunwoo laying down on his bed, body fatigued after a long mission, before pulling out his favorite book with a pair of glasses perched on his nose as the rain pattered on the window. The scene was strangely out of context for the younger male, but it seemed to fit Hyunwoo in the most perfect of ways.

“So, tell me about you.” Hyunwoo pulled Kihyun from his thoughts, the large man sitting beside the younger with an open expression despite his large arms flexing to get comfortable.

“Not much to tell. Just a hitman that kills for money.” Kihyun avoided Hyunwoo’s eyes, focusing on the TV even though it wasn’t on.

Hyunwoo wasn’t satisfied, but kept his expression. “When we met, you looked like a college kid. Did you get your degree?”

The younger boy hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. In photography.”

“Oh? A photographer? Do you have any tips for me to brighten up this pace a bit? I could use an artist’s opinion.”

Kihyun thought the older was kidding, but saw nothing but an expression of curiosity on the male’s face. Man, talk about serious. Does he ever tell a joke?

“Maybe… some pictures of sunsets or oceans, to give the place a bit of color.” Kihyun suggested slowly, looking over the bare walls and empty table tops. “And some plants. They don’t have to be real if you aren’t good with upkeeping, but the green will give this place some life and the perfect amount of color.”

He turned his head to see Hyunwoo’s expression, to find him leaning in close to Kihyun’s face. The younger didn’t move, his heart skipping oddly in his chest when Hyunwoo’s lips were only a few inches away from his. The air was thick with anticipation, their breathing almost deafening in the silence.

“What is a beautiful man like you, doing as an assassin?” Hyunwoo finally whispered, his eyes never leaving Kihyun’s as he placed his hand on the younger’s cheek.

Kihyun didn’t flinch. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Maybe we’re both just fucked up and like to kill for fun?” Hyunwoo suggested, his tongue slowly dragging across his lower lip and causing Kihyun’s breath to hitch in his throat.

“Or maybe… we’re just looking for somewhere to belong.” Kihyun could hardly hear his own voice. But Hyunwoo heard it and smiled.

“That stuff you were saying about colors. I’d like to work on that now.”

“Right now?” Kihyun echoed, slightly turned off by the change in conversation.

“Yeah. For starters, I love that shade of pink on your cheeks.” Hyunwoo smiled, and it was the last thing Kihyun saw before their lips connected and he let go of everything.

He had no idea how they made it from the couch to the bed. His mouth was moving eagerly against Hyunwoo’s, sliding finger’s in the older’s hair as he touched and kissed every inch of skin he could reach. Their mouths were desperate and playful, their eyes filled with happiness and hunger as Kihyun laid back on the bed.

They stripped each other of their clothing and kissed once more, Kihyun’s hands caressing the planes of Hyunwoo’s broad shoulders and arms, while Hyunwoo caressed Kihyun’s face and down to the smooth planes of his back. Every touch was searing to the skin and Kihyun’s face grew flushed as soft moans left his lips.

Soon, Hyunwoo was covering Kihyun in soft kisses and licks, marking the porcelain skin with sharp bites and pretty bruises. Kihyun could feel and see only Hyunwoo and felt his heart nearly stop in his chest as the older made love to Kihyun’s body.

All Kihyun felt was bliss, from the way Hyunwoo sucked him off, to the way Hyunwoo filled him to the brim when they became one. They fit like a lock and key and Kihyun was lost in the pleasure as Hyunwoo rolled his hips. It was too sweet to be called sex and too powerful to be called making love. But Kihyun felt both and he couldn’t get enough.

By the time he came, his lips were bruised and his body was worn and covered in marks but he didn’t care. He kissed Hyunwoo drunkenly, addicted to the intoxicating fire that was the older man. Hyunwoo didn’t seem to mind, as he held Kihyun to his chest and made love to him all night, both reaching their climaxes over and over again until the sky outside was beginning to fade into morning.

They rested for a while, Kihyun’s head on Hyunwoo’s chest, both bodies tangled under a thin sheet. Kihyun was drifting into unconsciousness with Hyunwoo’s fingers in his hair, when the older boy whispered. “Look at that beautiful sunrise.”

Turning his head lazily to the window, Kihyun took in the swirls of pink and purple along the horizon with a hum. He had his eyes forward, not looking anywhere else as he chuckled. “I have a fear of heights.”

“Why’s that?” Hyunwoo hummed.

“Dunno. I’ve always been like this.”

“I have a trick to help you.” The older sat up slightly, leaning down so he was face-to-face with the younger male.

“And that is?” Kihyun blinked.

“Whenever you’re up high, don’t look down. Always keep your eyes ahead, on the horizon. You need to focus on what’s ahead of you, not what’s below you. That always helps me whenever I’m up too high.”

“Does that really help?” Kihyun wondered aloud.

“I mean, it helped when I was making love to you. I was focused on you and your beauty, I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. You’re my sunrise.” Hyunwoo admitted with a grin.

“Oh, you’re good.” Kihyun blushed heavily, hitting Hyunwoo on the chest with a playful smile. “You don’t even know me that well.”

“Maybe not. But I don’t need to know you inside and out to know that you’re a man that comes along once in every lifetime. You’re special, and you deserve all of the happiness in the world.” Hyunwoo’s voice was gentle as he placed his hand on Kihyun’s cheek but his eyes were serious.

Kihyun rolled his eyes in a playful manner but it felt bitter. “I’ve already chosen my fate. I can’t go back on it now.”

“Maybe you could.” Hyunwoo smiled as he laid Kihyun against the pillows, kissing along the boy’s neck with a low rumble in his throat. “I have an idea.”

Kihyun blushed at the kisses but would never admit it. “Tell me after another round.”

“You have a crazy high sex drive for someone so small.” Hyunwoo commented with a laugh.

“Good thing you can handle it.” Kihyun grinned, pinning down Hyunwoo in a powerful kiss as they began another round.

*

As time passed, Kihyun and Hyunwoo began to learn more about each other. They weren’t romantically involved, other than the few rendezvous at Hyunwoo’s house whenever they happened to catch each other at the bar, but it felt like they had known each other for years. Kihyun didn’t have to feel guarded around Hyunwoo, while Hyunwoo didn’t have to hide who he was around Kihyun.

They went out to eat (in disguise) watched movies together, they even went shopping for groceries one night (“I want cookies!” “I’ll make them then, because store bought cookies taste like crap, Hyunwoo.”). Everything seemed normal, domestic even.

In Kihyun’s mind, he knew that it would be their downfall.

An idea had popped into Hyunwoo’s head one night while he and Kihyun were lying in bed. They both had finished their jobs for the night and Kihyun was curled into Hyunwoo’s neck. Sensing the male’s tension, Kihyun tilted his head. “What’s on your mind?” He whispered.

“Let’s run away.” Hyunwoo stated, his voice deep and sure.

“Runaway? To where?” The younger boy felt his eyebrows furrow at the thought of leaving, not a bad idea, but one that left a twinge of nervousness in his stomach.

Hyunwoo sat up, his eyes on the ceiling. “Anywhere but here. It doesn’t matter where we go. We’ll be away from this shitty city and we won’t have to hurt anyone just to survive… We can start our lives the way we want it to be. No more killing or hiding. We’ll be free.”

“There’s no such thing as freedom for people like us.” The younger male sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned into one of the forgotten pillows.

“Let’s make our own freedom.” Hyunwoo persisted as he looked at Kihyun, his eyes filled with longing and earnest. “I promise, I can get us our freedom. We can do this. Trust me, Kihyun.”

With some words of reassurance and extra kisses, Kihyun reluctantly agreed. He wanted to believe in Hyunwoo’s words, but he knew deep down they wouldn’t be able to achieve freedom.

They were going to get caught. There was no hope for criminals like them, but he wanted to believe in Hyunwoo. So he did his best to push the negative thoughts from his mind.

*

The plan was set a few months later in early April. They did their jobs as usual, staying under the radar as they killed and stole like normal. Kihyun’s higher ups didn’t suspect a thing, so if they were to act, it had to be soon.

Meanwhile, Kihyun was feeling more and more comfortable with Hyunwoo. He visited him weekly and practically lived at Hyunwoo’s place. He trusted the other with his darkest secrets, his fears and even his dreams. He began to trust Hyunwoo with his life and something even more precious.

Kihyun trusted Hyunwoo with his heart.

It didn’t take Kihyun long to figure out that he was in love with the tall, nerdy and strong dweeb that was Hyunwoo. Kihyun was so in love he could barely hold the confession in, but he intended to keep the emotions in check for the time being. He would tell Hyunwoo how he felt someday.

On the day of the operation, Hyunwoo sent Kihyun a simple message:

Seoul Tower, 6pm.

Making sure to hide his face under his favorite black hoodie, Kihyun made his way to Seoul Tower. He was fully armed, his eyes watching every person that walked by without fail. Always cautious and always aware, Kihyun was prepared for anything and everything.

He looked up at a large building, noticing a huge clock on the side of it. He stared at the time: 5:55 pm.

He had no reason to be worried He was always early whenever it came to meetings or missions. He decided to play on his phone while he waited.

Soon, it was 6:02 pm.

Then 6:10. Still no sign of Hyunwoo.

6:15.

6:30.

As Kihyun began to fidget in worry, he looked up at another skyscraper, the brightly lit sign showing a news bulletin that had just come in.

“Authorities have captured the infamous Son Hyunwoo, after a five-year man-hunt. The police caught him trying to head towards the inner parts of Seoul on foot and have taken him into custody.”

It was as though everything happened in slow motion. He saw the footage of Hyunwoo being taken away by two officers, his face panicked before it turned into something more calm, his body relaxed despite being cuffed.

All around Kihyun, people were stopping to watch the footage. Many people cheered, happy to have a “criminal like that off the street”, while others went on their way with the news report playing on their phones.

Kihyun was frozen to the spot. He wanted to scream to everyone that Hyunwoo wasn’t what the media made him out to be. He didn’t have a choice in what he did and he was truly a beautiful man from the inside and out. He was sweet and warm and kind, he knew how to give the best hugs and knew how to be sweet despite a dire situation. He was more than just a news headline but no one seemed to notice.

No one seemed to care.

Kihyun ran all the way to Hyunwoo’s apartment, hoping that it was just a dream. The older had given Kihyun a spare key, but Kihyun settled for breaking the door open with his foot in a wild panic.

There was no Hyunwoo in the kitchen making breakfast. No singing coming from the bathroom, nor was the TV on in the living room. The apartment was empty and it truly looked as though no one lived there.

With tears blurring his vison, Kihyun covered his eyes with his arms, doing his best not to break down. He knew this would happen, he knew that one of them would get caught. He never should’ve gotten involved with Hyunwoo, he never should’ve let his heart be so shaken…

No matter how much he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t find any regret in meeting Hyunwoo, for he loved the older man too much to regret meeting him. The love, the laughter and even the hope of running away, was worth it.

Tearing his arm from his face with a sniffle, he glanced around the room. It was quiet and it smelled of Hyunwoo. Sitting on the couch, Kihyun moved to get comfortable, when he felt something strange under his legs.

Moving to figure out what it was, his hand brushed over a piece of paper. Picking it up, Kihyun felt a smile fill his face as he read what was written on it.

This wasn’t the end.

*

Kihyun looked over the crowd from above, the letter sitting in his palm underneath his knife. He waited for a few minutes in silence before pulling out one of the guns strapped to his thigh.

Holding it up high, he pulled off the safety and fired one bullet. Then another.

The sun had finally set and the shots could hardly be heard from below.

But one person seemed to hear it.

Through the sea of people, one tall figure stood out above the rest in a black hoodie, ripped jeans and an unmistakable smile. A face that could be recognized anywhere.

Kihyun stood up slowly, gathering his belongings and leaving the way he came. The elevator took too long, so he decided to take the stairs, taking steps two at a time as his heart began to race in his chest.

When he was one story above ground, he saw the figure’s face and felt his face tug into a smile. The window separating them was open, so he climbed onto the ledge and jumped.

It wasn’t a far drop and the figure caught Kihyun with ease. His arms were warm and strong, his scent like a tranquilizer to the assassin’s heart. He clung to the male, whispering only one word, a name.

“Hyunwoo…” He breathed, his voice cracking.

Hyunnwoo smiled softly, hugging Kihyun close as he hid their faces from view, even though no one seemed to notice them. “You still up for running away? I got a car waiting for us and a month’s worth of supplies.”

Kihyun raised his head to look at the other with a frown. “I haven’t heard from you in almost two years and you suddenly appear out of nowhere? Did jail turn your brains to mush?!”

“I know you waited out here every day for me and that you left the Bureau. I know hiding isn’t easy and I couldn’t contact you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you wait, so let me make it up to you, my love.” Hyunwoo whispered, placing soft kisses on Kihyun’s face.

“So… we’re running away?” Kihyun mumbled.

“If my Sunrise will give me the opportunity, I would love to run away with you.” Hyunwoo blushed at Kihyun’s reaction to the nickname, his eyes soft.

“Since you kept me waiting until now, I guess I can let my Sunset take me wherever he wants to go.” Kihyun conceded slowly, his eyes playful as he hugged Hyunwoo’s neck.

Hyunwoo nodded, leading the way to where the getaway car must’ve been. Kihyun was silent as Hyunwoo walked, memories of the past few years filling his mind. How he had gone from a normal college kid to an assassin was beyond him, but there was something he noticed.

“Hyunwoo?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for catching me. I’m not afraid of heights anymore.” Kihyun mumbled, hoping the other wouldn’t hear his raw confession.

But of course, Hyunwoo heard it and he stopped in his tracks to place a deep kiss on Kihyun’s lips. It wasn’t hungry or desperate, it was soft and passionate, and filled to the brim with enough passion and emotion to leave both gasping for air.

“I’ll always catch you when you fall, you have nothing to fear anymore. I love you, Kihyun.” Hyunwoo hummed, holding Kihyun tighter than he ever had before.

Kihyun let the other hold him for a while before he chuckled. “Let’s continue this conversation in our getaway hotel. You have a lot of making up to do.”

“Believe me, I’m never leaving your side again. You’re gonna get so much love from me, you may not be able to handle all of it.” Hyunwoo laughed, leading them to the car and helping the smaller into the passenger’s seat. Once they were settled in, they began to drive and left the city life behind them.

Sure, they both had fought and killed, but they were humans too. They found their freedom in each other, so maybe, just maybe, assassins can have a happy ending just like the movies.

But they’ll have weapons packed, just in case.

I hope everyone enjoyed my long-awaited return! I hope to do a lot more writing this time around, I’m working on another fic as we speak and it should be up by tomorrow night at the latest! Feel free to inbox me any requests or asks, I would love to hear from you guys! ~xoxo, Selena

[floatingpetals]

Ever the Optimist

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC (Reagan Carr)

Warnings: Language(I think), fighting, violence, blood, death, angst

Word Count: 3300+

Summary: Reagan’s watched over Steve, letting him adjust to the changes since the Civil War, only allowing herself be the best of friends she could be to Steve despite wanting so much more. Reagan was only so patient. She was tired of waiting, she needed to tell him everything she kept inside. But things always seemed to get in the way. 

A/N: So uh... yeah, I’m gonna start off with ‘I’m sorry.’ I’m working on part 6 of Vanish in the Dark, so I pulled up an older one shot I had stashed away to post until I get that part done. Again, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to lead it this way. Maybe I could write a second part? But it all depends on what you guys think. Enjoy the read! After post edit because I forgot: I don’t have anything wrong with Sharon, it just fit the story line I made. I’m sure Steve really didn’t think it was strange, and neither did the others think much of it. 

The gifs, not mine. Credit to the wonderful owner.

Reagan had always considered herself a patient person. Recently however, she was finding that harder and harder to believe. She knew it would take some time for him to comfortable with having another relationship beyond friendship, especially after his last relationship. Steve’s and Sharon’s breakup wasn’t messy; it simply wasn’t pleasant. Something clicked in the man after several dates, coming to see the how strange their relationship was or as he put it at one point, ‘not for him.’ That was nearly a year and a half ago, and much had happened. Tony had asked for the broken team to come back together, the time apart helping him realize that maybe what Steve and the others had done wasn’t so bad. After all, they did stop a revenged driven man, found a way to eliminate Bucky’s triggers, and even managed to uncover the real reason behind the Accord. Tony even had come to terms that it wasn’t Bucky who killed his parents, at least not willingly. So, he sucked it up and asked them to come back home, no strings attached.

It was awkward at first, especially when Bucky returned from Wakanda. Reagan had joined a month after the group had returned and watched as they fumble their way around another, until finally they slid back into routine. She watched Steve date Sharon, not knowing the whole story between them, but Sam fed her enough to know what all had taken place between the two of them. While Reagan wasn’t fond of the woman, she wasn’t going to be the reason why Steve had his only living memory of Peggy ruined.

Reagan never pushed her feelings on Steve, instead choosing to remain as the best friend that she could to him. It had begun with simple hellos and small conversations as they passed in the hall and common areas. Reagan would ask Steve how his day was, how he was.  The first few times, it caught him off guard, he wasn’t often asked about himself. He would recover and respond in kind, finding himself excited to share a few words with her throughout the day. It wasn’t until a rather rough mission that their friendship blossomed into what it was now.

Steve had returned late, exhausted both mentally and physically. Reagan was sitting on the couch reading a book in the living room when the group passed through. They mumbled their good nights before disappearing in their rooms. Steve, however, stood at the end of the couch, his eyes glazed over. Reagan took one look at him to know what he needed. Grabbing his hand, she led him to his room with a soft command to shower, dress comfy and return to the living room once he was done. He followed without a second thought, something Reagan found adorable in how he blindly took her orders.

She gathered his pillows and a few blankets from his bed and hurried back to the living room to get set up. When Steve emerged twenty minutes later he was stunned to see the room transformed. The coffee table was pushed aside, blankets spread out on the floor, and pillows piled up against the couch. The TV pulled up with some show that Reagan had sworn Steve would enjoy watching. Reagan sat at the center, smiling widely up at the tired soldier. It didn’t take any coaxing on her end to get Steve to lay out beside her, a blanket tucked around him and a bowl of popcorn with M&Ms mixed in between the two of them. They spent the rest of the evening binging until Steve dozed off into a peaceful sleep, the first he had had in years.

Since that night, the two were inseparable. Steve would never be far from her, always searching for her in a room. She brought a side out of him he never thought he’d see again, he was happy and so was she. He laughed more, opened more around others, and even seemed more comfortable in his own skin. She introduced him to so many things, taught him how to cook(without lighting the pan on fire) and how to work an iPhone. He still couldn’t figure out the whole emoticon and face timing thing. She would just smile and lend him a hand when he needed it. She was always kind to him, patient when his age started to show. There were still phrases he had never heard, and more were being made each day. Instead of letting it overwhelm him, he hunted Reagan down. She thought it was endearing when he would come up to her looking like a lost puppy.

Another thing she noticed was Steve always seemed to have to be touching her, whether it was a gentle hand on her waist when they stood in the kitchen, or gently touching her thigh when they were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie. Reagan would smile each time he’d unconsciously brush a hair from her face, not wanting to bring attention to the small habit he had built. It was a comforting touch to him, it kept him grounded. It helped that she also loved the attention she got from him in those moments.

The others teased they had something going, but Steve would always smile at them and shake his head. She was a friend, and one he wasn’t willing to lose. He kept everything to himself, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, and pretended he wasn’t watching the way her hips would sway as she would leave the room.  He wasn’t ever going to act on it, no matter how much his heart hurt in his chest when he thought of one day her finding someone else. She was too important, too special. So he went about what he was doing, spending as much time as he could with her.

They’d have several more nights spread out in front of the TV, going through the list of shows and movies. Sometimes Bucky would join, the first time a bit awkward as he settled on the other side of Reagan. But after the third movie and second tub of popcorn, Bucky was sprawled out, forcing Reagan to shift a bit closer to Steve to give the man room. After that he would pop in from time to time, sometimes dragging Sam or Natasha along with. Reagan never minded the group that suddenly grew, though she did miss having alone time with Steve. She had to admit, her favorite nights were when Tony and Bruce would join in. Tony would spend the whole night throwing popcorn at Bruce, seeing how long it would take the man to snap at him to stop. Bruce had mentioned it in passing to her that he didn’t mind, it meant he didn’t have to reach for the bowl when he wanted popcorn.  

Occasionally Reagan and Steve would find themselves alone, the group sensing they wanted their own time together. It was times like that that Reagan didn’t mind living with a group of trained assassins and spies that could sense social cues. She never would tell them to leave them though. As tough as they might seem out on the field, they really were a fragile bunch that needed the comfort from one another. Unfortunately, it almost meant she was too.

Reagan wanted to tell Steve, she really did. But it seemed like every time she tried, something would come up. The perfect example being hours ago. Reagan had everything planned out, right down to where she practically cornered Steve. But right as she was about to ask him, Tony had chimed in through the speakers.

“We have a mission! Meeting room. Both of you. Now!”

Reagan visibly deflated, and Steve only thought it was because of knowing they’d have a mission. He didn’t know she had things planned, no one did. Ignoring the frustration mounting in her, Reagan followed Steve to the briefing room.

She supposed she would simply have to wait until they got back. Reagan snorted at that thought. Ever the optimistic. The mission was supposed to be simple, they had a lead there was important intel hiding in an abandon Hydra hideout. A supposed Hydra hideout. In hindsight, the lead wasn’t from the greatest source, but they were desperate for whatever was in this building. Reagan hadn’t listened when Tony explained just what it was, and now she was wishing she had. They managed to enter the hideout without a hitch, but once they went down to the underground bunker, they realized just how ill-informed they were. The hideout was still in use, the empty ground level hiding the activity that was waiting below.

When the group broke through the lower doors, all hell broke loose. Reagan and Natasha somehow got separated from Steve and Clint and then Reagan quickly found herself separated from Natasha. That’s how she found herself, half an hour later, cowering behind stacks of boxes in a backroom. The others were still fighting the Hydra agents, struggling to group together. Natasha found Clint, who directed her in the direction of Steve. They had already called for backup, or at least a quick ride out of there once they found Reagan. But that wouldn’t be for another two hours before the jet’s would land. Reagan doubted they would make it that long trapped down here with the never ending supply of enemies. She wasn’t sure she would make it much longer either.

She could hear the agents running around, angrily shouting to each other to find her. They demanded that she be found, and Reagan could only shutter at the thought at what they do once they did. She was trapped and couldn’t answer Steve, only tapping the com so that he’d know she was still living. With each minute that passed, Reagan could hear the mounting anxiety grow in the soldier. Little did she know he was in his own living hell.

The seconds that passed of not knowing where she was, not having her by his side, Steve could feel his sanity slowly slipping away. He hadn’t felt this level of anger since the fight with Tony. He was quickly coming to realize that Reagan meant so much more to him than even he let on. He struck down any agent that came at it, his mind turning dark. The longer she was missing, the more danger she was in. So he fought on, swinging punches and picking up the guns to clear out paths. Natasha made the mistake of commenting on his shift, nearly finding herself thrown into a wall. It quickly dawned on Natasha and Clint, Reagan really did mean more to him than any of them thought. They needed to find her quickly to bring their Captain back.

Meanwhile, Reagan hadn’t meant to shift so much, but her leg was falling asleep. Her back bumped against the boxes, and one was stacked too close to the edge. The box fell off from the top, a loud slam echoing through the room. Even over the blare of the alarm signals, Reagan knew someone heard the crash. She cursed under her breath, but the group heard the sound through the com.

“Reagan, baby, where are you?” Steve croaked. He was struggling not lose it, and her sudden curse didn’t help settle him any.

Reagan didn’t answer, instead tucked further behind the boxes. She struggled to breathe, and her hands shook from the fear. The shouting grow closer, she could hear them trying to open the door she jammed shut. It sounded as if they were throwing themselves against the door, the boom echoing in the small store room. Again, Reagan cursed.

“Reagan!”

Sucking in breath, Reagan knew she wasn’t going to have much time left.

“Steve, I’m okay. It’s okay.” Reagan didn’t even believe herself, but she needed to calm him down. She flinched at a particular slam, and she knew they heard it through the com.

“Reagan, where are you? What’s going on?” Steve yelled. He needed to find her, he had to. He struck down another agent from another never ending wave. When he finally cleared enough of a path, he used his shield to run down others. Natasha and Clint cover his back while he lost himself in his anger. Steve charged through the halls, searching for an sign of Reagan. It wasn’t until he turned the corner of one hall that he saw a group struggling to open a door at the end. Instantly, he knew where she was.

“Hey!” He shouted, pulling their attention from the door. Reagan heard his scream, and she almost sobbed in relief. Relief that was short lived. Half the agents went after to block Steve, while the rest continued on the door. They were so close, the door groaning in protest as it bent to unjam.

Steve brought the few down that charged at him without a moment’s hesitation, his anger growing with each punch. The blood rushed to his ears and he struggle to catch his breath. They were keeping him from Reagan. Those that struggled with the door grew frantic as Captain America grew closer. One of them threw himself at the door in a final effort. The door swung open at his weight, breaking open after the many attempts.

Reagan shrank further behind the stacks, her heart beat loud in chest. She didn’t dare look over the boxes, she knew it wasn’t Steve. She could hear Steve, a roar reverberating through the halls. Reagan didn’t understand why, she couldn’t see the way the two at the door raised their guns to the room. The agents didn’t bother to search the room, they weren’t given orders to keep any of the Avengers alive. The two agents opened fire, aiming through the stacks of boxes right as Steve threw his shield. He prayed it wasn’t too late, that whatever God was up there would be kind.

The scream of agony that came from the room, that mirrored the one in the com proved he was too late. For a split second, Steve felt his heart stop. And then the monster he kept locked away came roaring to the front. He didn’t remember grabbing the first man, or throwing him full force into the wall. He didn’t hear the snap of the man’s spine from the angle he hit the wall, but if he knew he would have hardly cared. Steve had no recollection of grabbing the second, who was watching in frozen horror at the rage behind Captain America’s eye. Steve only remembered Natasha grabbing his arm, stopping him from continuing to beat in the agent’s face. Red cover his fists, and he knew it wasn’t just the agents blood mixed in the red. The agent’s face was marred beyond recognition, the life of the man having been beaten from him several punches earlier.

Steve dropped the body in horror, his stomach nearly turning in on itself. Natasha gave him no time to focus on what he had done.

“Steve, Reagan needs you.” She ushered him into the room, standing at the entrance to guard the hall. Without a seconds hesitation he bolted into the room, calling out for Reagan amongst the pile of boxes. A faint whisper of his name was his only answer in the room. He was grateful for his super human hearing, surely he would have missed it, and moved around the boxes towards the sound. His heart stopped when he saw her hand first, and then the pool of blood that she laid in.

“No.” He gasped, stumbling to her side. He fell to his knees heavily, immediately searching for the wound. Blood seemed to be flowing from her, her eyes fluttering as he attempted to located the source. Steve had begun chanting pleas under his breath, finding the three bullet holes and applying pressure the best he could.

Reagan could only watch as he struggled, all her strength having left her in an instant. She felt so tired, so cold, the color of the world around her fading to black. But when she saw Steve, it was like all the sounds and colors in the world came back. Even though she fought to breath, her arms felt heavier as she reach a blood cover hand to cradle Steve’s face.

He froze at her cold touch, his eyes turning to lock with hers. Steve’s face pinched, breath coming in rapid succession as he came to realize just why she was using what little strength she had.  Reagan smiled as best she could, tears starting to build in the corner of her eye. Everything she wished to tell him was bubbling up to the top, and her time was running thin.

“No, baby. Don’t.” Steve pleaded, holding in the sobs and turned his face to kiss her palm. “Please, just save your strength. We’re going to get you out of here.”

Reagan knew it wasn’t true, she could feel her time coming to an end. The colors Steve brought back were fading around the edges of her eyes, darkness quickly closing in. She had to say what she wanted to say, before it was too late.

As Reagan struggled to find the last ounce of strength, Steve shouted to Natasha to find a way out of here, that Reagan had to live. Reagan was so focused on forming the words, she missed to confirmation of back up. Her eyes never left Steve’s, who was still struggling to stop the bleeding. She didn’t miss the way his blue eyes were rimmed with red, tears having begun to spill from the corners. She focused on him, and missed the sounds of familiar voices coming closer towards the end of the hall. She didn’t miss how her heart began to slow, the pain she had felt slowly fading away.

“Steve,” She croaked. Hesitantly, he turned towards her. This couldn’t be happening. “Steve-I need- I need to- to tell you-“

Reluctantly, Steve pulled a hand away from her hips wound to cradle her face. He shushed her gently, but was stopped once more by her broken voice.

“No- I need- need to.” It hurt to talk, the pain returning as quickly as it left. She was seeing spot in her vision, and she knew it was now or never. Gently stroking his cheek, she said what she had been wanting to say to him for months. “I love you.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and he did the only thing he could think of in the moment. Dipping his head down, he pressed his lips against her quickly cooling ones. At first she responded, gentle and comforting. But then a horrible moment later, he felt her lips go slack. He watched in horror as her hand slipped down his cheek, and falling limply to the floor.

“No. No. No! No!” His fingers fumbled to her neck, searching for proof she was still living. Captain America didn’t care as the tears he had kept at bay streamed down his face. He didn’t care that his screams tore the small store room. He refused to let her go, cradling Reagan closer with each sob. Not even when Tony and Bruce rushed to his side did he let them take.

Natasha stepped up, prying his fingers from Reagan’s body as she tried to reason with him. He needed to let her go, they might have a chance. Steve shook his head begging for Reagan to come back. It wasn’t until Bucky emerged and connected his fist with his best friends head did his grip loosen. Steve’s cries of agony were cut short, and the last memory he had before darkness overcame him was the limp body of Reagan being lifted from his grip, her hand falling limply to the side.

[anodyne-sunflower]

Rust to Gold (Part 1)-Jack Jackson series

A/N: Guys!! It’s finally here. Not sure how many of you have actually seen PotE but, regardless I hope y'all enjoy. I really love the idea I came up with for his series. While I’m sure it won’t be my popular one, again because I believe not many of you actually know about Jack lol I still adore writing it! Few notes before you read on: I’m using the tv series timeline not the book. I won’t go into too much detail with her father, but you could say it’s Louis VII of France since he reigned at the time. This starts in 1138 like the show does. I am skipping Jack and Tom’s introduction because that’s not really needed for reader and Jack’s story. However, Tom is obviously in this and it will contain and follow the majority of the characters and story lines. And yes, some of history will be a little tweaked if for creative purposes. But, since this is mainly on reader it’s not like I’ll have her interfere entirely with history. It’ll be very very minor. Enjoy!

MOOD MUSIC: Throne for the game ft. Bradley Hanan Carter by Ramin Djawadi

***

The dictations of one’s future was a concept you had grown agonizingly familiar with. Being a woman, your father had every right and determination to choose every aspect of your life for you. No matter the cost of your relationship with him. It was a constant reminder of your duties as princess, to blindly follow those demands of your king. With or without hesitation. And yet, in spite of all that you could not bring yourself to obey him this time. There was moments in your life where ignoring his shouts for proper conduct became a habit, except you often caved to his whims by the end of it. After all, a threat to your life was something you couldn’t bear. Now, however, you found the ounce of strength in you to resist his plans.

“You would deny me? Deny your kingdom?! You ungrateful child! I have given you everything! And you disobey me at every turn!!”

Your father’s hands slammed onto the arms of his throne, making you flinch slightly at the loud sound. But, you held your head high tightening your jaw in order to remain the very picture of calm. It was not easy to defy a man like your father, especially when he ruled all of France.

“I would deny you the pleasure of marrying me off to the first man who comes with a bag full of coins and promises of expansion!”

You spat back, breath heavy with contempt for the man who raised you. If that’s what you could call his lifelong lessons in court. It was a risky move, one that you knew deep down would not end well for you. But, you could not bring yourself to marry just anyone. Your heart was not a bargaining tool, no matter the person wagering it.

“What you speak is treason.” His voice grew soft, though the bite behind it was all too clear. “Defy me now, and I will have you hang for this. Do you understand me?”

“I-”

“Do you understand me?!”

Every word sent chills down your spine, and flattering was the only option your mind wished for. Yet, you could not betray your heart of that you were certain. With every courageous spark in you, you straightened up. Rising on your feet again as you clasped your hands in front of you and stared your father, the king, down.

“Then I shall hang.”

If there was ever a time you saw any hope of pride in him for you, it was oddly now. Perhaps it was the bravery you displayed, but for that brief second he smiled. It was altogether shocking and disgusting, but a man’s honor was everything. And proud of the courage you had or not, he’d still move to execute you.

“You play a dangerous game, child. Take her to the dungeons.” He waved his hand away, not looking at you anymore as the guards neared you. But, you held a hand up keeping your pride about you as you turned away and led yourself down to the bottoms of the hellish castle prison. The guards stuck by you, one hand held above the pommels of their swords and the other holding a shield. You knew if you ran they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. A prince was an heir, a princess was expendable.

As you stepped down the large stone stairs into the dungeons, your heart began to sink. Knowing that every second that went by was bringing you closer to your last breath. Many children would think their father’s loved them, no matter their rebellious nature. Yours was not that father. If you slandered his name, you would pay, and denying his pick of a suitor did just that. It was an embarrassment, and now you were going to pay with your life.

“May I ask a favor of you?” A sigh left your lips, eyes staring into the dark prison you would soon be housed in. The floor was a mess, hay and water scattered amongst the stones. And only one tiny hold of a window that could bring daylight in. “Will you fetch my handmaid for me?”

The guards stood quiet at first, both of them looking to one another for an answer. And if only for the reason that they watched you grow from child to woman, they agreed.

“At once, your highness.”

It was a needless courtesy on their part, calling you by your title. Because, you knew their allegiance was to the king and only the king. But, you thanked them all the same, following their orders as they gently pushed you into the dungeon. The door behind you slammed shut, the sound of them locking the wooden door only causing your heart to sink further into despair. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but the reality of your refusal was now before you.

Time ran slow inside here, you could only count yourself blessed that the sun was still out. It allowed a sliver of light to bathe across your skin, warming you under the dress you wore. A nice comfort in the cold of the prison.

“Your highness!”

The sound of your servant caught your attention, and you rushed to the door to see her through the small bars at the top. It was the first time you get a semblance of joy today, and you reached over the small window to grab her hand.

“Matilda, I’m so glad you came.

“Why on earth wouldn’t I?” She smiled, though you could see the concern she felt for you. She was always a loyal one, a very rare thing in these times. And her friendship meant a great deal to you. She was originally your playmate, a gift from your father when you were 7. She grew alongside you, and you had come to see her as a sister. She was never a birthday present in your eyes, but always family.

“I fear I’ve made a foolish mistake.” A small laugh left you, but the obvious anguish behind it was evident. Something Matilda easily caught on to. But, ever the sweet one, she brushed her thumb over the back of your hand and shook her head.

“I’ve always admired your will, and even now I still do. You cannot marry that awful man. The rumors around him are numerous, and I believe your fate would be the same no matter what you choose.”

She was not wrong, you had heard your fair share of rumors surrounding William Hamleigh. The son of a lord who likely had the archbishop on his purse strings. He held no title to him, but his family was still rich enough and had powerful connections that your father was positively mad for.

“I think you’re right…” You held her hand tightly, leaning your forehead into the door as you whispered your heartache. “It’s pathetic. I stand by my choice then, but all the same I do my wish for death.”

Matilda was silent, and you thought perhaps she was sharing in your current state of depression. Instead, she released your hand and patted softly on the door.

“I promise, you will not die today.”

It was the last thing she said before running off, leaving you confused and lonely in the growing darkness.

***

Hours went by, and you began to grow nervous for your friend. Whatever she was planning was likely going to cause trouble, but you’d rather take the fall than have her life forfeit on your behalf. You tapped impatiently at the floor, heels digging into the straw as you say against the floor. By now you must’ve looked a mess, as the winter winds grew strong at night and snuck into the lower parts of the castle. If your father waited anymore days, you were likely to succumb to the elements as opposed to the gallows.

A soft knocking gained your ear, and you quickly turned your head towards the door thinking they had come for you in the dead of night. It was an odd choice and time for execution, but perhaps your father was eager to be rid of you.

“Your highness?”

The whisper of her voice made you relax back into the wall, and you smiled as you warned Matilda of her dangerous intentions.

“I know what you’re up to, and it’s too dangerous.”

“Nonsense. Just trust me, the perks of being a servant, I know every part of this castle better than you. How else would I sneak food?”

You laughed heartily at that, knowing fully well that she had done so quite often. Not that you could blame her, under your father’s rule everyone was likely to starve if he saw fit.

With a click and screech of the lock the door slowly drew open, and you scrambled up to your feet. Matilda stood at the doorway, joyfully smiling as she hugged you to her. The reunion could not last long, because you were sure the guards would catch on quickly.

“You’ve gone mad. You’ll be killed for helping me.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Ever the optimistic one, you thought. And while you didn’t want harm to come to her, she seemed so sure of herself that you willingly followed her down the dungeon halls. Every time you turned a corner you glared both ways, heart going wild in your chest as fear and doubt took over. People rarely escaped from here, and when they tried the end results were far worse than the original sentence.

“This isn’t-”

“Shh.” Matilda hushed you, not bothering with a torch as it would prove too risky a move and alert the guards to your locations. She grabbed your hand, nearly running down the halls and under a large gap in the stairs. It led directly into the waterways, and you were slowly realizing just how knowledgeable the servants likely were. It was almost a miracle that none of them had been bribed to assassinate the king with all the secret passageways they knew.

Your dress soaked up the water, making you more than uncomfortable. You were not dressed for skulking about castles, and thankfully she had thought of that.

“Put this on, hurry!”

She shoved a bag of clothes towards you, and you sifted through the bunch. It was not something you would’ve ever worn around here, and frankly from the looks of the brown robes they belonged to a peasant.

“What is this?”

Matilda sighed at you, keeping an eye on the exit of the tunnel as she rushed you.

“Your highness, if you are to live tonight it is because you leave here a commoner. Not a princess of France.”

Her words filled you with a sense of sadness. As much as you despised the man on the throne, this was your home and you loved it. But, there was as always truth to her statements. You reluctantly nodded, allowing her to help you get out of your current attire and into the simple robes of your new identity.

“Come on then, your highness.”

Matilda led you out of the tunnel, her eyes scanning the open field in your view for any sign of possible danger. She pointed towards the hill that led deep into the forest where your father hunted, and with a solemn smile she hugged you.

“You are meant for great things, Y/N. And it is because of this and our friendship that I happily risk my life for you.”

You dug your fingers into her back, gripping her close to you in a goodbye that would no doubt last forever. You couldn’t bear the thought of not having her around, but you couldn’t let her help go in vain.

“I’ll miss you.”

Matilda smiled at that, kissing your brow before cupping your cheeks and fighting her tears. “And I will miss you, my friend.”

She shoved you out of the tunnel, frantically moving her hands for you to get going and leave. You stared back at her every step, only stopping when you were at the edge of the woods to bid her one last heartfelt farewell.

***

You fell forward onto your horse, barely holding the reins as you felt your exhaustion settle in. It had been days upon days since you left France. Traveling on foot for so long before taking a ship to England. The people you met along the way had been decent enough, save for those who desired to rid you of every coin you had. There wasn’t much Matilda could give you, but what she had was kind enough. It helped you gain passage along the sea, before you managed to settle a bargain and take a man’s horse. But, your journey was tiring and with no plan on where to go or settle you were left lonesome and nearly poor.

Your stomach grumbled, once again alerting you to your starvation. You couldn’t even remember the last time you ate, but every minute reminded you of that painful feeling.

“Just a bit more…” You patted your horse, trying hard to stay atop him as he traversed the forest paths. It was still winter time, which only proved harsher to your travels. The cloak you wore hardly contained your body heat, and the biting wind hurt far more than you ever imagined. But, you had to force yourself to keep moving on. Hoping at some point your new home would make itself obvious.

“Just a little….more…” Your eyes drifted shut, your mind fighting against sleep until every ounce of willpower you had drained from your body. With a groan of discomfort, you slid sideways falling roughly from the horse and onto the cold ground of the forest. And all at once everything went black.

***

Soft hums and murmuring could be heard somewhere in the endless corners of your dreams. A woman’s comforting tone beckoning you to wake, though you weren’t sure if it was real or not. But, it was soothing, reminding you of your mother who had passed so long ago you barely remembered her features.

“Mother…?”

The woman laughed, making you slowly open your eyes to the sound. She was a blur to you, but you could faintly make out the reassuring smile she held. She patted a cloth to your forehead, parting your hair so she could have better access. She was still humming something, whether that was a song or a spell you weren’t sure. But, you were still grateful to be here in the warmth of a fire.

“Easy now, you hit your head hard.”

“What?” Your voice was hoarse, no doubt from the weather. But, she still understood you and she offered you a cup of water that you were forever thankful for. You drank eagerly from it, almost choking when the soothing liquid ran down your dry throat.

“Ahh, careful.” She took the cup from you, placing it aside and patting your cheek. “You will recover. You must rest though.”

“Who are you?” You forced out, groaning when you turned onto your side. The woman just smiled again, putting some bowls down that contained some sort of salve.

“You can call me Ellen.”

You nodded in thanks, finding the strength to sit up. You held your arm over your stomach, leaning back into the cave walls and examining the area. It was no doubt this was her home, and while you couldn’t exactly believe living in a cave was ideal there was something oddly wonderful about it.

“Hungry?”

You glanced towards her, watching her stir a pot of stew on the fire. “Oh yes, please.”

Ellen just chuckled again, pouring some food into a bowl and handing it over to you. She walked on her bare feet to the small stool in the corner, continuing her work.

“Thank you, for the meal. And everything else…”

“You are welcome. We need to take care of each other, yeah? I could not leave you to freeze out there.”

You nodded gratefully, taking a spoonful of the meal and delighting in the warmth of it. It was the first time you had decent comfort since you left France, and you didn’t want to leave anytime soon.

“You live here?”

“Yes. There is a village not far from here, my son lives there. He’s a sculptor, a great one.”

She had this grin on her face when she spoke of him, and you believed it to be the pride of a mother. But, you felt there was more to it than that. As if that grin was meant for you as well.

“A sculptor? That’s magnificent.” You glanced around the cave, taking note of the faces carved into the stone of the walls. It brought a smile to your face, now that you knew the source of the beautiful work. “He’s very talented.”

“He is.” She watched you carefully, following your gaze as you took in her son’s work. “You should go there. Kingsbridge. They are building a new cathedral there, there’s work. I’m sure they will take you.”

The first thing that arose in your kind was your father’s words, about princesses never needing to work besides providing heirs. You wondered what he’d think now. There was no doubt he had already sent party after party searching for you, but chances were high he had no idea you could make it so far from France. That made you feel safe.

“Work?…I wouldn’t even know what I could do? I don’t really possess any skills.”

You hoped that hadn’t given anything away, because aside from needlework, and basic royal skills nothing of the common folk made sense to you.

Ellen just smiled, mending the fire as she spoke. “You can learn.”

It made you smile, because she sounded just like Matilda. Always believing in you when you least expected it. You made to speak, moving the bowl to the side as you pulled the blanket over you tighter. But, as the words left you the sound of footsteps cut you off.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Mother. Philip was in a mood today.”

A young man with the brightest red hair you had ever seen entered the cave, a small bag of things over his shoulder as he removed the hood of his cloak and reached towards Ellen. He pulled her into a warm hug, kissing her cheek and smiling. You watched the entire exchange curiously, feeling very much out of place.

“My boy, Jack.” She laughed joyously, cupping his cheeks and not wanting to let him go. But, for his sake she let him take a seat, before she moved to fetch another bowl for him.

This Jack didn’t seem aware of you at first, his green eyes following his mother’s movement until she waved towards you.

“Say hello to my guest, Jack. Don’t be shy.”

Jack looked towards the direction she pointed, his eyes widening when he set his gaze on you. It was the first time you ever saw a man flustered, and there was something endearing about it. Most men at court took it upon themselves to leer at you, or even touch what they believed to be theirs. But, this Jack fellow just blushed softly, averting his gaze several times before giving a smile.

“Morning.”

He simply spoke, looking back up at you with mild interest. You returned the gesture, holding your hand up in greeting.

“You’re the sculptor. It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”

***

A/N: I knowww, not much in the way of Jack this part, but I had to set the stage ;) Feedback highly welcomed!!! And appreciated. ❤️

[singingwordwright]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Maryse Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Characters: Alec Lightwood, Maryse Lightwood Additional Tags: Angst, Introspection, Good Parent Maryse Lightwood

Summary: Maryse and Alec both have their reasons for haunting the halls of the Institute late at night. Perhaps between the two of them, they can figure what to do next.

Notes: This fic doesn't really focus on Alec's pain over his separation from Magnus. While it's certainly there, he has more pressing issues to deal with first.

This work is unbetaed.

Nothing on the 3D display of Manhattan had changed in minutes, perhaps hours, and yet Alec stood hunched over it as though if he stared long enough, it would reveal to him the secrets of the universe. The Ops center was quiet--the patrols were either out looking for Valentine and his son, or they had reported in and retired for the night--and Maryse almost hated to disturb Alec’s concentration, except that his study of the display looked less like concentration and more like self-flagellation.

“Coffee?” she murmured, holding up the spare mug she carried. Alec startled, blinking rapidly.

“Thanks.” He sounded like someone had scraped a rusty file along his vocal cords. He cleared his throat and accepted the mug, testing the temperature with a tentative sip as his eyes drifted back to the map. “You checking on Max?”

Maryse shook her head, grimacing. “Taking a short break before returning to the infirmary. I’m sure I’ll be treated to a tirade in the morning about how he’s too old to be fussed over, but I can’t bring myself to leave for long.”

Alec’s head dropped, his chin nearly touching his chest as his shoulders rose and fell with a long, slow breath. “It was a close call.”

“It was.” Maryse blinked. Once. Twice. Three times, until the treacherous burning in her eyes dissipated. “This family has had too many of those the past couple months.”

Alec said nothing, and that silence said everything. Most of the Lightwoods’ recent near-misses, Maryse had learned about from afar, long past any opportunity to help. Alec had been in the thick of them.

To be honest, she wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Take a short walk with me,” she invited, tipping her head in the direction of one of the corridors branching off the Ops center.

“I can’t.” Alec swept his hand toward the projection display. “I need to--”

Yes, Maryse knew what he felt the need to do all too well. It was a tendency he’d learned while he was practically still at her breast.

“It won’t tell you anything it hasn’t been telling you for hours, Alec. Let’s get some air.”

He sighed and nodded, cradling his mug between his hands as they turned their backs on the Ops center. His shoulders remained hunched, bent under an old, invisible weight she only now realized he’d hadn’t been carrying the last couple times she’d seen him.

“When you were a toddler,” she remarked as he fell in beside her, his long strides considerately shortened. “Not long after the Circle fell, there were several months months where you were utterly inconsolable if I wasn’t with you non-stop. You were probably picking up on all the tension and anxiety from me and your father. I was quite pregnant with Isabelle, and virtually under house arrest while the Clave decided what to do with those of us who had defected from the Circle, so it certainly was no hardship to spend every hour with you.”

A sideways glance caught the tiniest, feeblest curve of Alec’s lips, a far cry from the sweet, unguarded smile she’d hoped to coax from him. ”But in that time, I had a chance to do a lot of thinking, about where everything went wrong, about what I could have done differently. I went over the same information in my head again, and again, and again, looking for signs I might have missed that we were doing the wrong thing, following the wrong path. How did I not see that the brave, heroic boy we’d admired and emulated since we were children had grown up to be a madman? Even if I’d come up with any answers, it wouldn’t have helped or changed anything. But that process of driving myself mad looking for them was my way of punishing myself for the choices I made.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing tonight?”

“You really think that map you’ve been staring at for hours is going to tell you where Valentine and his son are?” Maryse stopped at the elevator and pushed the up button. Alec was silent as the doors slid open and then shut behind them once they’d stepped inside. Maryse took them to the top floor, with its access to the roof.

Alec always went for high, open spaces when he needed solace.

After what happened at the party preceding Max’s rune ceremony, that knowledge filled her with more than a little unease. But she took him to the roof anyway, because this, too, he’d picked up from her. Many of those months she’d spent with his tiny arms around her neck, clinging to her like a limpet day in and day out, had been spent on the balcony of her rooms in their estate in Idris, and later here at the Institute.

Alec set his mug on the ledge of the parapet and braced his hands beside it, gripping the masonry in a white-knuckled grasp.

“I’ve been in charge of this Institute for less than two weeks and I haven’t done a single thing right in that entire time,” he said tonelessly.

“You’ve done more in two weeks than your father and I ever attempted in nearly twenty years.” That had been deliberate, of course. Any interference with the Downworld in those days would have looked as though they intended to continue Valentine’s work, and she and Robert hadn’t wanted to risk that. But she remained silent on that point. The reasons didn’t matter now.

“I let Valentine escape. I let thing he created waltz in and out of the Institute, treated him like a trusted advisor, put him in charge of security. I nearly got Max killed…”

Maryse grabbed his arm, pulled her around to face him. “Alec, that isn’t your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known. He even fooled Aline Penhallow into believing he was her cousin.”

His eyes flashed in the omnipresent glow of the city lights, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “I promised the Downworld factions complete transparency, then reneged on that pledge the second it was more convenient to stay silent than tell the truth. If they break with the Clave, that’s on me. I was the one who proved to them that they can never trust us.”

“The Clave.” Maryse sneered, bitterly enough to wrench Alec out of his spiral of self-recrimination. “Do you want to know why I left Idris?”

He gave her a bemused frown. “I assumed it was because of Dad.”

Maryse shook her head. “Not in the way you probably assume. I left because my voice was being drowned out. I couldn’t accomplish anything more there. Since the moment we realized the Soul Sword was missing, the Clave has been preparing for war with the Downworld. They’re convinced it’s inevitable.” She pressed her lips tightly together, then plunged ahead. “Some of them are even eager for it. There are too many who seem to have forgotten the horrors of the Circle uprising, or are too young to really remember. They would rather war with the Downworld than confront the evil being perpetrated by Valentine. It’s easier to convince themselves the Downworld is at fault, that the Accords are untenable, and that Valentine was right all along.”

Alec’s mouth dropped open, his face growing paler in the dark. “Are you saying some of them might want to ally with Valentine?”

“I certainly hope not. I’ve heard mutterings from a few who were thinking along those lines, but I don’t think the Clave has completely lost all reason yet. Still, if it comes down to a choice between a truce with Valentine and fighting a war on two fronts, especially against the Seelies? I really can’t say which way the Clave would go.”

“Oh, God.” Alec reached blindly for the parapet and knocked his mug off the ledge. It smashed against the ground four stories below with a muted crunch.

“That’s why I was so in favor of your Downworld cabinet.” Maryse smiled softly in memory of the pride she’d felt that night. “I had hoped if anyone could forestall the conflict, it would be you and Magnus.”

Alec frowned at her. “You don’t even like Magnus.”

“You’re right. I never did.” Maryse straightened her shoulders, staring out over the city with her hands clasped tightly together before her. “We clashed a number of times, and not just when your father and I were running the Institute.”

“When you were still in the Circle,” Alec said tonelessly.

“Yes. Exactly. I’m ashamed to admit that Magnus has been far more gracious to me than I’ve deserved, all things considered.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “You know, when I heard about Valentine’s attack on the Institute, I wasn’t afraid at first. Somehow I just knew that you and Isabelle and Jace were all right. But then I learned what Valentine had done to all those Downworlders, and I was terrified. For Magnus Bane, of all people. Because I knew if you were fighting for your life, surely he wouldn’t be far away. And I knew what it would do to you if he were killed.”

Alec’s breath hitched sharply, his face crumpling for a split second before he got it under control. He turned back to stare into the night again, giving her only his stony profile.

“Suddenly, I could see so clearly. All the reasons for my antagonism toward him stemmed from things that I really should have left behind me twenty years ago, when I turned my back on the Circle. My petty resentments had forced you to choose between your family and your heart, and I swore I’d never do that to you again.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Whatever you choose from here on out, Alec, I will stand behind you. I want you to know that.”

Alec’s head bobbed once, but he stood beside her in rigid silence for a long moment.

“If it comes to war, I can’t stand on the opposite side of the battlefield from him,” he said finally, the words so ragged it seemed they must be grating in his throat. “Even if it means dereliction of duty, going against the Clave. I won’t. I won’t be Aldertree, convincing myself years from now that it was always inevitable that I’d have his blood on my hands. I won’t do it.”

“I’m sure Jace and Isabelle will support you in that, and Clary Fairchild as well. And me, of course.” Maryse drew her shoulders back and made her tone brisk. The commander’s tone she’d perfected over her decades running the Institute. “But if you’re going to prevent things reaching that point, you probably only have a few more hours before the Downworld factions reach some sort of consensus. Figuring that out is certainly a better use of your time than staring at a map that isn’t going to tell you anything. Isn’t it?”

Galvanized, Alec shoved back from the parapet, a focused scowl already settling on his face. “Right. First thing we need to do is get patrols on the shores of Lake Lyn. Clary’s certain it’s the Mortal Mirror. We can’t take the risk of Valentine figuring that out.”

“I wouldn’t tell the Clave that, if I were you.”

Alec nodded grimly. “Agreed. There have been too many leaks already.”

“I believe Lucian ran with one of the feral werewolf packs in the Brocelind Forest for a short while, after he was turned. If anyone could get word through to their alphas, it would be him. They’d make excellent guards if someone could convince them it’s in their best interest.”

“Right.” Alec’s long strides carried him quickly toward the door, but he pivoted suddenly to brush a brusque kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmured, then strode away.

BUY ME A CUP OF COFFEE!!

[spreadplaylist]

SPREAD CH.4 ARTIST SPOTLIGHT INTERVIEW - TINA MATHIEU

This month's SPREAD Artist Spotlight is a dear friend of mine, Tina Mathieu. Let's get a closer look at her life and her music!

Tina: Hey there.. My name is Tina Mathieu. I’m a singer/songwriter based in Los Angeles. I moved out here by way of NYC, where I spent roughly 15 years writing and playing acoustic soul music. Within the past few months, I released my first indie r&b single and ran my very first official trail run... uphill - So i’m kinda feelin’ myself. ; )

Dan: Haha hi Tina! Those are definitely things to be proud of. I'm so excited you're our SPREAD featured artist this month! Diving right into your life and career a little more, how long have you been a songwriter/artist?

Tina: I started writing my own music after I stepped away from musical theater back in 2003. I was 22 with a broken heart and a cheap classical guitar. Typical story. I’d been writing poetry since I was a child - and somehow the ability to turn my words into melodies just clicked.

Dan: And when it clicks it's the best feeling ever. Since you have been writing for a while I am sure you have some sort of routine. Describe the place that makes you feel the most inspired creatively.

Tina: The mountains and the shower… recently I began trail running through the Santa Monica mountains. Moving through the open air, surrounded by 360’ of a world reminding me how small I am gives me major perspective - I become elevated in every way. I usually record voice memos while I hike and continue playing with those ideas once I’m home... washing all the dirt the off. The shower makes me feel like I can sing anything.

Dan: More power to you on trail running. I don't think that's something I could ever have the endurance to do! But if we're talking singing in the shower, I definitely feel like Beyoncé the moment I step in, even though I definitely don't sound like her...

Quickly moving on to get that image out of everyone's head...I know you are a very motivated and driven person. Do you have a personal mantra that helps you get through each day? If so, what is it?

Tina: These days when I feel like so much is out of my control, I like to stick with “One day at a time” and the serenity prayer... Accept the things I cannot change - the courage to change the things I can - and the wisdom to know the difference. Oh wisdom…

Dan: I've never actually heard that prayer. That's something I may have to adopt. I definitely use the day-at-a-time mantra or I tend to get overwhelmed.

So, now that you have released a new single, I know you are trying to get out and perform in LA a little more. Coming from experience I know that's a blessing and a curse. What do you think is a misconception people have about performing?

Tina: That bigger notes mean better singer. This is especially true in musical theater or televised singing competitions. I’ve had lots of internal struggles with this misconception. After dealing with vocal nodes, I had to start letting the strengths within my tone, emotion and storytelling depict my artistry - rather than belting my life away.

Dan: To be honest I think reality singing tv shows have done some hurt to singers because everyone watches them and then expects everyone to have a huge, belting voice. But we have to make room for the soothing, sultry vocals too. ;)

If you can pick, what song of yours are u most proud of? Why?

Tina: I’m super proud of two songs. ‘Downward Spiral’, my first single that I released, was a long time coming. I wrote it about 2 ½ years ago in NYC after dealing with some family turmoil. I’m proud of it because I actually followed through with it. I’ve written tons of songs and always found excuses to not finish them. When I released ‘Downward Spiral’ I felt ready. I had no excuses left.

I’m also very proud of the next song i’ll be releasing in October, ‘Ring Off’. Reliving the discovery of an affair is probably the most raw i’ve been in songwriting yet. It still hurts when i sing it and i think it makes people uncomfortable… which means I did my job.

Dan: I've heard both and I have to say they are both chilling. I don't even know if I could pick a favorite. And again, congrats on the new single!

I know that this journey is hard to follow through with sometimes, and its easy to get caught up. So throughout your years as a songwriter, who is one person in your life that has influenced and pushed you to be where you are now?

Tina: Influenced and pushed are two different things for me. I’ve had several artist and musician friends that have inspired me immensely. My family has always supported and believed in me. But as for pushing me to where I am now... I did that. Lots of people gave me advice and thought I was wasting my talent by not following through for so long, but I couldn’t do anything until I was ready - from the inside - an inner push that was long overdue.

Dan: I'm so happy to see that push now, because you're amazing! It's crazy how we can hear kind words and support from so many different people but we equally have to hear us say it to ourselves, too. With this unstoppable Tina, describe a typical day in your life. What are you doing? What do u enjoy the most about it?

Tina: I’m a mom - so everyday starts the same... I have to wake up way earlier than I prefer to blindly pour apple juice for a 4 year old dude. I also work in tv production so I’m often juggling a freelance lifestyle which allows me the opportunity to make music. I try to hike or trail run whenever I can squeeze it in. Also, Target. I’m mostly at Target.

Dan: Target always saves the day. Also, you are my hero. Now that we've seen a glimpse into your grind, and that you are not holding back in your music making any longer, what do u think is the biggest misconception people have about working in the music industry?

Tina: That you get discovered and industry people figure everything out for you and you just get to sing and make money. EASY. It couldn’t be more of the opposite. Being an artist is running a small business - the financial investment, the self promotion, understanding the convoluted money splits on the back end of a song... I mean you really have to love the ‘making music’ part of it.

Dan: You have to love it almost more than anything else. There's so much more behind the scenes that people do not think about. Being where you are today, and having just released an awesome single, if you could go back in time to the Tina Mathieu who just started out as a songwriter and artist, what is a piece of advice you would give her?

Tina: Be nice to yourself. It’s ok to tell people that you are a songwriter. You’re not a phony. And you don’t have to hide behind other people’s success… you deserve your own.

Dan: Preach, girl. Also discussing your day-to-day life, how do u manage a busy schedule and stress? How do you recharge when u need to?

Tina: I try to stay as organized as possible - Google docs run my life. Hiking and weed are my stress relievers. Often paired together. :)

Dan: We definitely need those stress relievers to get us through the business. Breaks away from the madness are so important.

A part of this business also includes of failed attempts or let-downs. I feel like they are so common you can easily lose track. Tell us about a time that you feel like you failed musically. How did u overcome this?

Tina: When I found out I was pregnant, I felt like I completely failed musically. I had yet to put out a single, yet to release an EP… and to be honest, I thought that being a mom meant that I had run out of time. I wrote a depressing song that day (that no one has ever heard) and decided to accept my failure as an artist. Luckily, being a songwriter is simply a part of me that won’t go away. It took a few years to start finding my way again - but I’m actually better than I was before and now I have someone very special to impress.

Dan: You are a natural songwriter. I don't think it could go away if you tried to make it! I am really touched by your answer, and I can't help but be grateful for all the badass moms we see in the industry that are killing it. Ya know, Pink, Beyoncé, Adele to name a few... It gives me hope that other moms will be inspired to keep going; that they're not done after having a kid. And I'll be the one to say I am SO glad you didn't give up. We desperately need your music in the world. Also...your kid is ridiculously cute I can't handle it. He'll always be your number one fan!

What is a defining moment of your career and how has it affected your life since?

Tina: Releasing ‘Downward Spiral’ is the most defining moment so far. When I teamed up with the Los Angeles Songwriters Collective for their 2nd EP, I committed to myself that it was time follow through. The past few months have been non-stop songwriting, studio time, gigs, co-write sessions, networking and supporting new artist friends. Making that one commitment changed everything for me.

Dan: I have such a big smile on my face. The gears are turning and there's no stopping now!

Looking to your inspiratioins, tell us about an artist/songwriter who inspires u. What would you like to emulate in your own artistry?

Tina: Erykah Badu is my all time favorite artist. Unique in every way. Her voice, words, melodic decisions, storytelling... honest & confident.

“She’s Clever.”

John Mayer is my favorite lyricist - I try to learn a lot from the honesty and details in his poetry. I may or may not have a lyric tattooed around my wrist. (Shhh.. I’m a fangirl!)

I’m not looking to emulate them but rather let what I love in these artists innately come through me - kinda like osmosis.

Dan: You said something SO important right there. I think up and coming artists struggle a lot when they're first releasing music. They listen to their favorite artists and then try to sound like them, but the key is letting what you love about them show in your own way! Ah, I could scream! Nail on the damn head.

So what artist/album/song have u had on repeat lately?

Tina: 90’s male R&B slow jam Playlist - Ginuwine, Dru Hill, 112, etc..

Julia Michaels - She is an effortless genius.

Kehlani - Obsessed with her.

Fiona Apple, Tidal - because her words never go out of style (and I still need a dictionary to get through some songs...)

Dan: What a good ass mix! If people reading this have not checked those artists out, GO! Some of them have been featured on SPREAD before... ;)

Laaaaaast but not least at all, how can we check out ur music and stay up to date with ur releases/posts? Anything we should especially be on the lookout for? ;)

Tina: I’m mostly active on Instagram - @tinamathieumusic. You can listen to ‘Downward Spiral’ on SPREAD CH. 4 - Feels and also stream or download it anywhere music exists. I have a few LA gigs lined up for Sept / Oct, which I’ll be announcing soon - and my newest single, ‘Ring Off’ will be available this fall.

Dan: Y'all heard it from Tina herself! If u haven't already, go check out her new single, 'Downward Spiral' on SPREAD CH.4 and go follow her! LA people, make sure u go see her live to because her music and her voice slays. Thanks again, Tina, for being SPREAD CH.4's featured artist. I'm super excited to see where this next year takes u! :)

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Thank you everyone for joining us for this month's SPREAD Artist Spotlight! I hope you have let out all the FEELS u can before Friday because a whole new playlist is coming! And it's gonna end with a bang 🎊

[hindsight222]

Worship begins in respect.

I feel that the definition of worship has a become lost on the masses. Worship is not blindly following and agreeing with someone or something, humiliating yourself or others, or harming yourself or others. Worship does not require you to go broke. Worship, at its very root, is respect. When ancient man saw the moon and the sun, they worshiped them as gods for they gave both light in darkness and sunshine to grow food. Ancient man regarded all things that added to their existence with some sort of great respect. (When I say “ancient man,” I mean all ancient cultures that predate modern religion around the world). There was respect of love, fertility, lightning, rain, crops and even war. Nowadays I think that our curiosity as an ever-evolving species, has strayed us away from respect. Why worship the moon? Why not study it? Question it? Understand it? Land on it. Claim it as our own. Colonize it. Our healthy curiosity causes us to smudge the line of respect. We don’t need to worship rain anymore, of course, however, in shifting our worship to curiosity of all things, we have caused harm to so many things that we once respected a lot more. Our earth should be the MOST respected — we live on it! Our oxygen should be highly regarded as important — we breathe it! Unfortunately, us humans have done a considerable amount of damage to our world, our oceans, our air quality. The damage does not just affect us, but every other living creature that has to live on this planet with us. Even if you take the spirituality out of worship, look at how much respect and reverence still remains. I’m having restraint and compassion for whatever we set our curiosity on, we can still have respect for life. Respecting & Worshiping Others. When a man opens the door for a woman, he is not worshiping her, he is respecting her femininity. Her returned gratefulness is her respecting his masculinity, and also knowing that he didn’t have to do that. I don’t know how others were raised, but I grew up knowing that no one uses foul language around my grandmothers and grand-aunties, no matter how “grown” you were. That was simply not done. You respected them as elders of the family, as Mothers, as queens that love you with all of the positivity in their heart, so you left that foolishness outside. When a pastor walks up to the pulpit and you stand up in church, you’re not worshiping the pastor, you are respecting the fact that this is the person that is going to attempt to deliver some love and positivity to the whole room, to try to relieve someone’s anxiety and pain the best way they know how. That is honorable. That is something to be respected. When the judge walks in the courtroom and you stand up, you’re not worshiping this judge, you’re not bowing to “massa;” you’re respecting the person that has put in enough years of interpretation of the legal system, that s/he is now able to deliver sentences, fines and essentially effect your freedoms. You and your freedom absolutely should respected in return at all times. We know our legal system does not always do a good job at this.. which trickles down to general distaste and disrespect for the “justice system” from those that it oppresses, but I digress. When a bride stands at the back of the church and everyone stands up, that is respecting the union that is about to happen. The reason you came was to watch these two become one family, you stand in respect of that. Traditions and manners have often been regarded as unnecessary. It doesn’t take much to turn on the news and see someone horribly disrespecting or, worse, harming someone else. The lack of the respect and civility will eventually reside in disrespect and an uncivilized society. Now the big one. God. I am a proud Christian so this will be according to my perspective. I also love studying other religions, so I will also do my best to be respectful to all readers. Where do I start? Okay, we have disrespected, chastised and executed followers of Christ, followers of Islam, followers of Judaism, and SO many of those that dare to have their own religion and gods. Who is anyone to tell another what can comfort their heart? Disrespectful and just wrong. On television shows, internet jokes, YouTube parodies, I see so many people make jokes at Christians’ expense. There are bands with names, plenty of lyrics that disrespect Christianity, or make light of it. Costumes that I won’t even go into. How messed up is it to be enjoying a TV program or listening to some music and then hear your faith disrespected? I believe God created the universe, planets, everything, my family and even me — I can’t just sing along to that! I can’t just act like I didn’t hear it. If you heard someone wildly disrespect your Mother specifically, you’d have an issue. Christians, like other religions, get a bad wrap because of extremists, but should still have their faith respected. All faiths can respect one another without accepting the same truths. I feel for the Muslim community very much. My father taught me the Muslim faith when he was married to a Muslim woman when I was younger. I got to spend a summer with them and learned so much. I got to wake up early and eat with them for Ramadan, I got to wear the headpiece and learn the prayers and movements. My Christian Baptist Mother allowed me to do this because she knew that I had always been curious about other people in general. I was also a pretty spiritual kid; me and Jesus were tight. She allowed me to explore my spirituality and I’m so grateful. I think Islamic culture is so beautiful! Have you ever seen a Mosque?! Come on now. Just beauty and details everywhere. Anyways, I just want to say that with all the stigma and stereotypes surrounded by your faith and tensions being so awful in America, I really do feel for followers of the Muslim life. I hope it’s not disrespectful to say I pray for the families, especially those that have experienced the extreme violence lately. When I was younger, I was told that all streams, no matter how shallow, have water. I may be quoting that wrong, but what I always took from it was that everyone has something in them that is true, that you can learn from. A lot of religions, both old and new, have very similar stories, and ask people to do the same things: be respectful to yourself and your surroundings, feel good inside and do good outside, be mindful, be grateful and be fruitful. There is no reason to disrespect anyone else for following those rules out of a different book, so to speak. Worship is different to different people. Think of someone or something that you respect the most. (God? Loyalty?) to worship is to just continue to build on respect. Egyptians built great pyramids to exhibit their respect and worship of their gods and royalty. Native Americans considered certain grounds sacred, built fixtures and sculptures. Some African cultures look at their elder and storytellers as royalty as they their lips hold the history of their people. Muslims do not pray without clean limbs. We Christians write songs, poems, do praise dances to worship God. If you’re Baptist, like me, you might even get a little loud with your praise, as if to shout your worship right up to heaven. It’s not necessary if it’s not your thing though. Your relationship to your Creator is your own. What’s Not Worship.

Celebrity and pop culture are ruining the line between fame and blasphemy. To respect the talent and beauty or whatever of a famous person is fine, to admire it is even good too. To support, be a fan of and be inspired by celebrities is all okay. What is not okay is to worship these people as gods. Celebrities are just famous PEOPLE. Just like you and I. You even put too much pressure on the famous people by overly loving them and wanting them to be a role model for your children, agree with what you believe in politically, and literally scrutinize every move they make! These famous people exhaust themselves to death to try to live up to an impossible standard because the masses don’t know how to RESPECT boundaries, within self or others. You shouldn’t love celebrities too much and wanna know everything about their lives simply because you like their songs or movies. You’re disrespecting their right to be a flawed human like you are. You’re disrespecting yourself by obsessing over the life of someone else. And you’re disrespecting GOD by giving that much energy over to someone who He made just like you! God loves you and made you special and you turn around give your self-love and self-worth over to someone else who is human just like you. God wants you to love Him and yourself. You gotta respect yourself too. Respect yourself. Respect yourself. You don’t need to worship yourself either. Comparing yourself to others to show how superior you are is... well it’s just silly, first of all. Second, it’s disrespectful. If you were born with fair skin or pretty feet or great hair, you can’t help that; you had NOTHING to do with it. If someone else was born with a learning disability, big ears, or something like psoriasis, THEY had nothing to do with that. If you’re the fastest person on your track team, that’s good for you, but that doesn’t mean everyone else on the team is just crappy. It means you’re the best, today. People that overly exalt themselves and brag on their talents, cause others to wish for their downfall. People that are humble about their many accomplishments, make others wanna exalt them for him/her and can’t wait to share in more of their victories. Don’t gas yourself up from your own headlines. Respect yourself.

Take care of yourself. Remember yourself. Pay attention to yourself. Who else is gonna be thinking about you, if you are never thinking about you? You can’t get mad at people for not considering you, if you don’t speak up for yourself when you should, if you don’t take care of yourself when you need care. It won’t even be intentional that you get disrespected or counted out, sometimes. You can’t forget about you and expect everyone around you to pick up the slack in your own self-love. Many of us are having a hard time with our own as well. Love. I think worship and love get confused, too. So many are obsessed with and even worship their partners, but they do not love them. If you’re obsessed with your lover, you need to take a step back. Being their biggest supporter, admirer, and genuinely just loving them so much, that is great. But can you imagine if someone just straight up told you “I’m obsessed with you.” That is terrifying! Men that are obsessed with their woman so much that they have to know where she is and what she is doing at all times, even hitting her when she steps out of line, do not love their woman. Women that are so controlling over a man that they don’t want him to have friends or do anything without her, don’t love him. That’s a human being. Human beings need friendship, love, community, alone time, freedom. If you wouldn’t want another human being trying to control those things in your life, think about if you’re obsessing over those things in someone else’s life that is not your young child. Then there are some women that lose themselves in a man so much that they end up disrespecting themselves in order to worship him. This is a sin against God, and, sis, it’s a sin against yourself. Willpower. Boundaries. As a “free spirit,” BOY do I struggle with those two words. I don’t like saying “no” to myself. Jackie Kennedy said that. I don’t remember the exact quote, guys, but she said it. I really don’t like stopping my joy. I struggle with depression and anxiety so much so that when I’m doing something that I like, that distracts me, I don’t want to stop. That doesn’t make it right, and it’s also single-minded. I’ve found that there is joy and great reward in having willpower. It goes without saying that you absolutely need boundaries in life, but typically that’s with others. 

In order to respect oneself, I feel that you have to set boundaries on everything. That sounds mechanical which is not my intent. I mean that you should pay attention to yourself in order to continue to enjoy your whole life the way you want to. If you love cheese, but know it can gum up your arteries, then you have to set boundaries on how often you indulge so that you can continue to indulge for as long as possible. I like alcohol, but if I want my liver to like me for the rest of my life, I have to set boundaries. Paying attention to the things you like, the things you need, and effects of those things all make it possible for you to set more reasonable boundaries for yourself. Love for yourself is rooted in respect, just like worship is rooted in the ultimate amount of respect that you can induce.