#and Recent Events have not changed that I wish to never see nor hear about them again

[hauntedfalcon]

thank fuck. I've been waiting all day to be on desktop where I can finally blacklist G**d Om*ns, Cr*wley, and Az*raphale. should have done this fucking years ago

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Ghost Story - Chapter 21

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 3268

Warnings: Mention of suicide mission

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: The chapters/large parts in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: You Set Me Free Go Figure

****

Ghost

 Tensions between Charlie and Ghost failed to get better, and as much as her mom tried to get her daughter to talk, Ghost refused. Hurt and insulted by her mother's words, the last thing she wanted to do was hear more of it, which could be the only result of any further conversation. No, Ghost wouldn't speak with her mom until the tournament finished and when she came out on top. The determination to prove Charlie wrong lit a new fire under Ghost, and as Hollywood put it, she terrorized anyone and everyone in her way. 

"Your new call sign should be Demon," Hollywood joked while they walked to the changing room to switch into their regular clothes. Their training ended early since only Ghost, Hollywood, and Boomer were left in the tournament. The course runs and dogfights took less than half a day, giving them the rest of the afternoon and evening off. By the end of today, only two of them would remain, and Ghost held no doubt she would stay for the final round.

Before she left the base, however, she made a pitstop at Cyclone's office, knocking hesitantly because the request Ghost wished to bring to his attention and consideration was no small matter.

"Come in," Cyclone called out. Ghost entered the office and found him sitting at his desk with Warlock across from him. The two men raised their eyebrows, evidently surprised by her presence. "Lieutenant, you have impeccable timing."

"How's that, sir?" Ghost asked, coming to stand beside Warlock.

"You just missed your mom."

A small groan escaped her lips. "Please tell me she didn't convince you to kick me out of the tournament."

"No, but she tried her hardest. If you were struggling to hang on, it'd be one thing, but you're succeeding at everything thrown at you. I can't deny that, nor can the Navy, so you're still in the running."

"Thank God..."

"Is that what you came to ask about?"

"No, sir. I have a request for you to take under consideration if I win the tournament for the mission," Ghost said, clasping her hands in front of her to hide their slight shaking. She had no idea how Cyclone might react. As much as they got along, he was still Cyclone. When someone upset him, he unleashed the storm within, and Ghost never wanted to be on the receiving end of it. She'd heard too many horror stories.

Cyclone narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm listening."

"I'm aware that if chosen for the mission, I would select a wingman and two spares in the event myself and my wingman got shot down. I understand it's rare to send a pilot solo on a task such as the one we're facing, but if chosen, I would like it to be considered for me. You and I know my track record, both in the tournament and in real life. I can hold my own no problem, and I don't see the point in risking the lives of two pilots when the goal can be accomplished with one. Planes are expendable, sir, but pilots are not."

Cyclone leaned back in his chair, staring her down with piercing green eyes. Ghost continued meeting it despite wanting to cower under his intense gaze. Finally, he spoke. "You're being serious, aren't you?"

"I am. I understand the consequences of going solo. It reduces the chances of mission success and the chance of me returning home alive, but it's me, sir. I've accomplished other missions solo whose chances of success were low. Let me do it on this one, too. Don't risk the lives of any other pilots. Risk one."

"Why you?"

"Because I'm the best you've got, and you know it," Ghost said confidently. 

"I won't lie. What you're talking about has already been considered, but it got knocked down. I'll bring it back up again, but I can't promise anything. You should start thinking about who you'd like to take as your wingman and your spares."

"Yes, sir. I appreciate you taking it into consideration. One more question, sir. Can the people I want on the mission be in the reserves?"

Cyclone sighed heavily. "Are you wanting to ask who I think you are?"

"Probably. He's the best of the best. I don't know if he'll say yes, but if it's an option, I'd want him on my team. We fly well together, and he can bring any experience I may lack."

"There's really no one else on active duty you would choose? What about Hollywood?"

Ghost shook her head. "I want Maverick."

"Of course you do... he's your idol, after all, and it shows."

"Thank you, sir."

"Wasn't a compliment."

"I know, sir."

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards ever so slightly. "I'll allow it because it's you, Ghost, and because of the intensity of the mission. I'll let you know the answer to your initial question as soon as I have it. Is that all, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," Ghost said, glancing at the file on his desk. "Unless you want to tell me who I'm facing tomorrow?"

"Two days from now. I have some urgent matters the Navy has requested my help on, and since they're still figuring out how we're actually going to accomplish the mission you're competing for, we can afford to delay the final dogfight and course run. Use the time to rest up. You've been pushing yourself hard, and I don't want to see you fail at the last second because you exhausted yourself."

"I won't let you down, sir. May I be excused?"

"You may. Have a good day, Ghost." 

She bid him and Warlock goodbye, then left the base, but her mind raced with what Cyclone told her: You should start thinking about who you'd like to take as your wingman and your spares. 

Ghost already knew who her top choices were, people she'd flown with before and trusted with her life, regardless of any personal issues between them. However, choosing them brought so many other consequences, namely, a strong potential for death. Ghost wasn't sure all that the mission entailed, but it was easy to figure out that the chance of survival was even lower than what the Daggers had accomplished. How could she put them in that position? Two of them would say 'yes' because it was her, but if they died and she survived, Ghost would never forgive herself. Maverick sat on reserve, but he missed flying. She could tell by the way he acted whenever he went up in the jets. But he'd gotten out. Who was she to ask him to throw himself back in, let alone on what probably was a suicide mission? 

These were only a few of the thoughts that blasted her, and Ghost found herself with a near-impossible decision. She needed help making the right choice, even though she already knew what it was. Ghost needed that push, and only one person could help her, someone who had to make the same impossible decision as her not so long ago.

Hopping onto her bike, Ghost sped toward the Benjamin household. Making a swift arrival, she bounded up the steps to Penny's house and knocked, praying only Amelia and Penny were home. Rooster had been hanging out there more and more, according to Maverick, and he remained one of the last people she wanted to run into. The tension between them remained too palpable, aggravated further by the drama she caused between him and Bryn. Ghost even dared to say she and Rooster were no longer friends but, instead, strangers. Strangers who knew too much about each other.

 Much to Ghost's relief, Amelia opened the door. She immediately said, "You looking for Rooster? If so, he's taking a nap, but I can wake-"

 "Uh, no, no, that's okay," Ghost replied, her heart dropping into her stomach when she saw the familiar wavy brown hair and Hawaiian shirt stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep and unaware of her presence. He had an open book resting on his chest. Keeping her voice down to avoid waking him up, Ghost said, "I'm looking for Maverick. Is he here?"

 "No, he's been at the warehouse for a few days."

 "Shoot. Does his cell work okay out there?"

"Yeah, as far as I'm aware. Why?"

"I have some work questions for him, that's all. Thanks, Amelia!"

"Any time." The girls parted ways. Ghost pulled out her phone and dialed Maverick's number as she returned to her motorcycle. He picked up on the third ring. "Hey, Ghost! How'd the tournament go today?"

"Hey, Mav. It went well. I'm in the finals, but I'm not sure if Boomer or Hollywood made it with me. I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday-"

"There's no need to apologize. You're always welcome to call me. What's going on?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something, and I was wondering when you'd be free to meet up."

"I'm at my warehouse for the next couple of days, but you're welcome to join me. I can send you the coordinates. It's about an hour and a half away, or an hour if you drive like me."

Ghost chuckled. "Send me the coordinates, and I'll be there in an hour."

"Roger, that. See you soon." The two hung up, and Ghost waited impatiently for Maverick to text her his location. It came within a few seconds, and after putting the route into the bike's navigation and slipping on her helmet, she set off at a breakneck speed. Luckily, no cops were out. She didn't want to have to talk her way out of a ticket today.

The hot California sun beat down on her as she rode down the highway. It was the closest to freedom she felt on the ground, the wind enveloping her as she flew down the black asphalt with nothing but desert and the distant, hazy mountains around her. Nothing beat soaring through the sky in an F-18 or F-35, going Mach 2 with the world passing by in a blur. Up there, she forgot about her problems. Up there, all her burdens were nonexistent. Ghost wanted to be in a plane right now even though she'd been in one less than an hour ago, but she couldn't simply take one of the Navy's jets for a joy ride as much as she wanted to. Therefore, speeding on her motorcycle would have to suffice.

As she claimed, Ghost arrived at Maverick's location in an hour. The warehouse was located in the middle of nowhere. No town or neighbor could be seen, and Ghost loved the peace the isolation provided. After parking her motorcycle against the shaded side of the building, she walked through the open garage door and called out, "Maverick?"

The pilot popped up from underneath one of two P-51s residing in the warehouse. He smiled brightly, seeming genuinely happy to see her. "Hey. You weren't joking about being here in an hour, were you?"

"You said it could be done if I drove like you." Ghost hung her jacket over the back of a chair and then glanced up at the P-51. "Why do you have two of these?"

"One is mine and fully functional. I'm restoring the second one for a friend." Maverick waved for her to follow him. They went to the other side of the plane. "Hand me that wrench on the table right there."

Ghost obeyed. "Thanks for letting me come out here. I have a feeling you don't tell just anyone about this place."

"You're right, but I do for my kids. All the Top Gun pilots I trained know where this place is. Only Rooster's ever come, though." Maverick fiddled with something inside the plane unseen by his visitor. "Speaking of which, talk to me, Ghost. What's on your mind?"

Ghost braced herself against the rolling tool cabinet, watching Maverick work. "As you're aware, the person who wins the tournament goes on this black ops mission. Cyclone told me to start thinking of people I would take: a wingman and two spares."

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you're thinking of Rooster, Hangman, and Hollywood."

"You got the first two right," Ghost admitted, gauging whether she should tell him the truth about her third choice. She'd come all this way out for his advice, though, and holding back would do nothing to help. "I'm considering you for my third."

This made Maverick turn around, surprise on his face. "Why me?"

"Because you're the best of the best, and I know if I were to bring you on this mission, you'd have my back. Maybe the Navy doesn't appreciate the kind of pilot you are, but I do. I see the genius in your flying. It's why I idolized you."

"Why are you hesitant to bring me? Or Rooster and Hangman, for that matter?"

"Because the likelihood of dying is high from what I can gauge, and I can't-" Ghost stopped herself, dropping her gaze to the assortment of tools resting on the chest. She waited for the knot in her throat to disappear before she continued speaking. "I don't fear dying. If I did, I never would've joined the military. What I do fear is losing someone because I knowingly sent them on a near-suicide mission. I can't imagine any of you dying on my watch. With Hangman, even though we're only friends now, he's been around my entire life, and the idea of losing him-"

A shudder ran through Ghost, another knot forcing its way into her throat. She'd never mentioned this deep fear of hers to anyone, not Rooster, not her mom, not Hangman, her three go-to people. Yet here she was, spilling it all out to Maverick because she knew he'd understand more than anyone else. She continued on. "As for Rooster, besides being in love with him, I also realize he's the last piece of Goose you have, and I can't- I don't want to take that away from you. There's the flip side of that, too. I don't want to take you away from him because you're the last family Rooster has, the last bit of Goose he has. Even when he refused to speak to you after you pulled his papers, he still loved you fiercely. I never told him this because I understood his anger, but I always thought there was another motive for you pulling his papers, not just because you were afraid of losing him. It didn't seem like something you would do strictly of your volition."

"You wouldn't be wrong," Maverick replied quietly, but he said nothing more on the topic. Ghost didn't prod. "You know if Rooster or Hangman find out you went on a deadly mission by yourself when they could've accompanied you, they'll go ballistic, and not in the fun kind of way."

"Which is exactly why I haven't told either of them. I'm telling you because you were in the same situation I was not too long ago with that uranium facility mission. You knew one of you probably wasn't making it back alive, and you still found a way to overcome your fear of potentially losing Rooster and let him accompany you on the mission. How did you do it?"

"Because I knew he was ready for it, that it was the right call to make, and I knew that if I saw him in any type of danger, I would die for him before I let him die for me. Come hold this for me," Maverick said, holding up some piece of machinery in the plane. Ghost replaced him. Maverick set to work fixing parts around it. "If you want someone to go on the mission, I'll gladly go up with you."

Ghost's heart soared. "That means the world to me, Maverick. Once you accept to go on the mission, though, there's no backing out. You realize that, right?"

"I do, and I'm willing to risk it for you."

"Why?"

"Because it's what I'd do for any of my kids, and Rooster would kill me if he found out I let you go by yourself. He loves you, Ghost. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," she murmured, his words simultaneously causing elation and sorrow in her heart. "How's he doing?"

"Still not talking to him?"

"No. The fight I caused between him and Bryn didn't help either. Let's put it this way: the tension between us is so thick, a plane would crash if it tried to fly through it."

"Are you ever going to tell me what he said to you?"

Ghost shrugged. "We had a heart-to-heart, and more came out than I intended. He called me out on the fact that I was avoiding him whenever he was around Bryn, and I finally told him that I liked him," she said, feeling the heat rise in her face when she admitted the next part. "Rooster and I hooked up a few times, and in the fight, he alluded in a not-so-subtle way that it felt like I was using him and that if I wanted a boy toy, to go after Hangman, but he phrased it much more crudely. Rooster's been trying to reach out, but I've been ignoring him."

"I get why you're upset with him, and I realize now why he's been hanging around our house so much," Maverick said, tapping her hands to let Ghost know she could remove them from the item she held up. "He's fully aware you've been helping me and Penny with redecorating the house, so he's probably hoping to run into you at some point."

"We almost did today if he hadn't been asleep."

Maverick glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Are you two okay when you're with the Daggers?"

"I don't know. I don't hang around to find out, but I guess we'd be relatively fine because we could avoid each other and talk to other people." Ghost fiddled with a pen on the tool chest, antsy with the talk about Rooster and her emotions toward him. The conversation had to be redirected for her sanity. "But I'm not going to drag you down with that drama again. I came here for advice on what to do about my work dilemma."

"You have to do what you know is right for the mission," Maverick replied simply, "even if it means going against what your heart is telling you."

Ghost sighed and grabbed her jacket, hating that Maverick confirmed what she already knew to be true. "Thank you for letting me vent and talk this through with you. I really appreciate it, Maverick."

"Like I said earlier, you're welcome to talk to me whenever you need to." He looked up at the plane, then back at her. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"I was going to go home and crash."

"You know, I could use an extra set of hands today. I want to try and get this baby flying. What do you say you help me with the finishing touches on this one, and then we both go up?"

"Really?" Ghost's pulse jumped, thrilled by the idea of flying alongside Maverick again and honored he trusted her to fly these planes. 

"Yeah. And who knows? Maybe the flying will help clear your head."

"All right," Ghost said, setting her jacket back down and sidling next to him. "Tell me what to do, boss."

****

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons​ @harper1666​ @shadeops21​ @double-j​ @copaceticwriter​ @rotating-obsessions​ @sharkprestige​ @thedarkinmansfield​ @lapilark​ @mickeyluvs​ @starshipfantasy​ @bennypears00​ @mandowife221b​ @the-navistar-carol​ @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth​ @carmellasworld​ @0hb0llocks​ @nicangelinee​ @summ3rlotus​ @3picklesinajar​ @magentamistress @the-other-hawkeye @elisha-chloe @emilymarie105 @persephone11110 @luckyladycreator2 @boogdleyboo @k0k3 @bibissparkles @lilmonstrjedi @stinkyrat09 @cocoag18 @suburbzchick @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @goodstuff28 @georgiasimpson95 @horselovers2016 @tanithpriad125 @davidshawnsown @sowolfstudentme @agagagfafa @callmemana @sec17 @lunamothenglishmajor @brxklyn15

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21

[addictedtostorytelling]

Hello again : )

Didn’t expect to write again so soon and not an ask, just a comment on the last story. I can’t thank you enough for continuing to write the thoughts of a character I relate to so much. That part I read countless times:

“For a moment more, she debates herself, considering if her sudden flare in temperature could have done anything to hurt the embryo. She touches a hand to her belly. Tries to be logical. Reasons for all the surface of her skin felt too hot, her internal temperature probably didn’t rise much, or otherwise getting out from under the covers, taking off her sweatshirt, and drinking tepid water wouldn’t have cooled her so quickly and completely. When she used the bathroom, she wasn’t bleeding. She hasn’t experienced any cramping. Still has all the same ever-present, low-level other pregnancy symptoms she has had throughout the week—the background malaise, the taste of metal in her mouth, the weighty pain in her breasts, the exhaustion, the same undeniable something inside.”

While I’m not pregnant (nor plan to be for several more years) - I completely understand debating with yourself on if everything is fine. Going over the list in your head “this is normal, that is normal too, etc” and going as far to check a book (or the internet in 2023) to see if the feelings are normal.

Something you couldn’t know about me - I’ve recently been asking more questions in my life to get answers to some health (and likely mental health ie anxiety related) issues that have caused a major problem in my life the last few years.

Reading Sara’s thoughts, knowing I’m not alone - it means so much to me. And while I completely understand she’s just a fictional character, she’s a fictional character who’s always been there when needed & your story came just when I needed it. Thank you for continuing to dig into Sara’s thoughts each week & make me feel less lonely. I literally find myself refreshing my browser at midnight ready & eager for the next chapter.

hi, @chelsshearman!

it's great to hear from you again! and thank you so much for sending such a kind message.

of all the things that stories do, one of my favorites is that they decrease the loneliness in the world just by the act of their telling.

as james baldwin once said,

“you read something which you thought only happened to you, and you discover that it happened one-hundred years ago to dostoyevsky. this is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that he is alone. this is why art is important. art would not be important if life were not important, and life is important.”

alan bennett shared a similar thought, saying,

“the best moments in reading are when you come across something—a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things—which you had thought special and particular to you. now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. and it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours.”

to know that a story i've told has helped you to feel a little less lonely is both gratifying and humbling to me. i'm honored you would return to my words and my take on these characters again and again.

in writing this story, i knew a significant portion of it would take place in sara's head. she is such a deep thinker, and i was interested to explore how she would mentally process such a life-changing event, even and especially as she runs up against more visceral gut-feelings.

i'm happy to know that that exploration is meaningful to you and that it rings true to you of what you love about her as a character.

truly, it means a lot.

thank you, as always, for reading, and thank you for sharing your thoughts—and decreasing some of the loneliness in the world in the process.

here is wishing you the best as you seek answers for your health questions. 💙

please feel welcome to send another ask any time!

[peterpparkrr]

Unwritten - Prologue: The Letters | A Bridgerton Series

Series: Unwritten

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: Writer and pen pal of Eloise Bridgerton, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had no plans to come out in society. Her family could hardly afford it after all. And she doesn’t need to marry, not when she can support herself and her family with her writing. But ever the hopeless romantic, (Y/N) embraces London society with hopes of finding inspiration for a new story. Only to find herself the subject of a love story right out of one of her favorite romance novels.

Word Count: 684

Warnings: N/A

A/N: a new series already! look at my being productive! please let me know what you think of this teaser! And not to worry - more art is to feel is coming soon (+ a couple of other bridgerton surprises as we get ready for s2!)

November 26th, 1812

Miss Eloise Bridgerton,

Thank you so much for your letter. I’m so grateful for your kind words about my latest short story in “The Lady's Magazine.” I’m pleased to know that at least one person took the time to read my words instead of skipping straight to the fashion illustrations – though I can hardly blame them, I’ve never seen such lavish dress in person, so the illustrations are perhaps the closest my eyes will ever get to seeing the extravagances of London fashion. 

As for the inquiries about my other works I have to admit I have little else that has been published. I have a great many unpublished stories, or fragments of unpublished stories, but only 4 short stories and 2 poems that have been published, all in “The Lady’s Magazine”. I did recently send a novel to several London publishers but have yet to hear back from any of them one way or another.

In hope of not seeming too presumptuous, I’ve taken the liberty to include an unpublished short story within this letter that I hope you’ll enjoy. Since you mentioned your preference for a strong heroine I thought you might enjoy this one in particular. Please feel free to write to me with your thoughts on this story. Feedback on my writing from a literary mind is something that I am seriously lacking at present.

Yours,

Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

June 17th, 1814

Dear (Y/N),

I cannot dignify your questions about the season with any response as all of my answers require the use of such unladylike words that I cannot use them, even in writing. Penelope is of course a greatest friend and ally in all these things, but sometimes even she falls into all of the insanity that holds such a tight grip on London Society. Not that I could ever blame her, her mother is such a nightmare when it comes to these sorts of events, I’m rather impressed that Pen holds such a wit as she does, seeing as she couldn’t have inherited it from either side of her family.

I will provide you with one tidbit for your so-called “research” – I know you say it’s for a story, but I happen to think you’re just as much of a gossip as the rest of us. My oldest brother Anthony is now married and they were engaged for only a week. I like Kate, my new sister-in-law, quite a bit, though I can’t imagine what she sees in my brother. Anthony’s marriage means both her oldest daughter and oldest son have been wed, allowing her to shift focus to the seconds. Neither Ben nor I are very pleased, and I can only hope that the rest of the season will pass quickly and then next year she’ll be too focused on Fran’s debut to pay me any mind. Though I certainly won’t be holding my breath.

I wish you could be here, you’d be such a refreshing change from it all. Or at least a distraction from the ways in which I do not live up to my mother’s expectations for her daughters. Or maybe I could come to you? Spend the summer in the country? If I thought I could sneak away without being missed I would come to you in a heartbeat. 

Yrs,

Eloise

April 7th, 1816

Dearest Eloise, 

It seems our years of dreams and prayers asking for a chance to meet in person may finally have found their answer! My uncle has sent for me with instructions that I am to join his family and to spend the season in London to serve as governess to my younger cousins! 

I am leaving for London in a fortnight. May I call upon you when I arrive? I am so very eager to finally meet you in person, you and your letters have been my constant companions these past few years and I don’t think I can bear being in the same town as you and not making your acquaintance as soon as humanly possible. 

Yours,

(Y/N)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed v, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of jungkook x reader – est. poly relationship

summary: BTS have had a long, busy day. Heck, a busy week, preparing for 2021 Grammys performance and interviews. It’s finally over, and all Min Yoongi wants is to take a shower and sleep with his favorite person. There’s no one like you. He deserves some special treatment – some belated birthday wishes granted perhaps?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; domestic shower care (aww) and shower sex (hell yeah); feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, handjob / blowjob (with tongue technology), f-receiving oral, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; occurs the night of the 2021 Grammys

part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: MYG asks JJK to fuck you, again, let’s keep this going, oop JK dyed his hair blue; based on real time.

–

"I'm sorry you didn't win."

"It's okay. It was a long shot anyway."

"Well, you are good at basketball, so you can make a long shot, easy."

A deep, raspy chuckle. "Next time."

Water drummed against the tile, the rhythm interrupted by you working shampoo through black hair, conjuring fistfuls of lathered white clouds. The head lifted a little and you were about to chastise him, but one look into those black-brown eyes and small sheepish smile looking down at you, and you forgot what you were going to say. 

"It was never about us anyway. We wanted to win so ARMY could brag about us."

You grinned, chuckling a little. "They always brag about you, Yoongi."

You saw something flit across his face, but he didn't say anything. You already knew. I wish you could brag about me. And you did, but not in the way he wanted, because he was Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, Agust D sometimes, and your secret all of the time. You closed the distance, a simple, sweet kiss in response to his wordless wish, I know, me too, hands curling in his soapy hair, smiling gently against his lips. Hm. You could feel Yoongi was thoroughly enjoying your wet breasts against his chest. 

Something hard was poking you quite insistently.

You drew back a little and Yoongi's hands circled your waist, keeping your hips to him.

"Thought you said you were sleepy?" you teased.

Yoongi grinned slyly. "I changed my mind."

You chuckled, tipping his head back to rinse his hair off, forcing him to close his eyes with a displeased grunt. You could tell from his dark circles that he was tired from the stress of the day, having to wake up at two in the morning and be ready for his call time at five, but he still insisted for you to come, still insisted for you to sneak around and be here when he came home. You didn't get to see Yoongi on his birthday and not during the weekend before either. He was too busy filming content and preparing for the Grammys.

You did send him a voice message of you singing happy birthday and he replied with, thank you, my love, instead of the usual, you would benefit from a vocal coach, which meant he missed you far too much to tease you. 

You carefully straightened his neck and Yoongi breathed out, raising a hand to push his black hair away from his face, slicking it back and exposing his forehead. 

Oof.

Sexy. 

Yoongi's eyes opened, dark brown orbs reflecting the mischief in his smirk. 

"You sure you don't want me to call the maknae?" he asked not-so-innocently. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He knew what he was doing. 

Your boyfriend had posted a selfie this morning, only to be followed up by Jeon Jungkook’s adorable pose in a colorful fluffy flannel shirt on Weverse. Earlier in the week, Jungkook had cutely invaded and sang happy birthday on Yoongi’s celebratory live, and then put up a picture of himself on his post for said hyung’s birthday.

The absolute gall of the Golden Maknae. 

Needless to say, you were disappointed, but not surprised. Only slightly though. Jungkook was like that. A little bit – alright, a lot – of a naughty little shit that needed his cock brutally choked by your throat or pussy every once in a while. Actually, no, definitely both, just to be on the safe side. But this day was not that day.

"You said you wanted to be selfish today," was your calm response to Yoongi's question, reaching behind him to rinse off your hands, pressing your tits into his chest. Your eyes flickered up to his. Yoongi raised an eyebrow as your fingers trailed on his back, drawing small patterns. 

"Has he been a bad boy?" he chuckled, referring to, of course, the shameless audacity of your other boyfriend, well-loved and doted-on Jeon Jungkook. 

Your expression matched his, inquiring but already knowing the answer. A silent conversation between kindred souls that followed the same thought process. Closer, water gliding between your bodies, lips fitting against his, lightly nipping at his lower lip as if to say, we're both a little mean, Yoongi chuckling in agreement as he captured your lips forcefully. Hands all over wet bodies, pressing him to you and him reciprocating, hot water seeming hotter, steam getting steamier, kisses passionate and intense, Yoongi pushing you into the shower wall, not letting you get away.

Jungkook had known you were coming, but he wasn't allowed to attend this time. 

He said he was tired from the events of today and he wanted you to spend time with Yoongi alone because it had been Yoongi's birthday recently and they should definitely get special treatment during their birthdays, right?

"I want special treatment on my birthday, so I suppose hyung should as well..." 

"Ah, that's too bad, I was looking forward to punishing you."

"Noona...!" You could hear the shy pout in Jungkook's voice as it lowered, whispering into his phone. "Don't say stuff like that..."

You heard a sneaky cat-like purr in the background. "Say what?"

Jungkook started and you heard the violent rattle of the phone falling, followed by scrambles to retrieve it. Ah. You could see now why Jungkook's phone was taped.

"Hyung! Don’t... I thought you were still in the bathroom..."

"Mmm." You knew that what that hum meant. You've been on the phone for a while. And Jungkook had, lamenting that he wished they could have won the award and had a celebration live with ARMY and you had to reassure him over and over that there would be more chances and ARMY was already very proud with the nomination, yourself included. 

"Uh... do you want to talk to hyung? He's here..." Jungkook did not sound like he wanted to give his phone up. He was only asking out of politeness.

"No, Jungkook, I'll see him in a bit."

"She said no, huh?" Yoongi mused and then you heard the sounds of footsteps wandering away. 

Jungkook made a questioning noise, but you reoriented him rather quickly. 

"I want to hear your voice some more, Jungkook." You recalled the opening of the Grammys 'Dynamite' performance and his teasing, cocky nose scrunch. "Was feeling rather sexy during the recording, weren't you?"

"You saw?" An edge of excitement to his tone. "That was for you, noona," he added playfully. 

"No, it wasn't."

His faint, wicked snicker. "Okay, you're right, but I did think about you while doing it."

"Mmmhmm. What part of me? My smiling face or my warm mouth wrapped around your cock?"

"Noona!"

Alright, you did end up giving Jungkook a little bit of punishment, because neither you nor himself could help it. And at the very end, he played along, whining for you because he knew you wanted him to. Fuck, he was getting clever now, remembering all the things you liked. Stupid sexy Jungkook and his duality.

"Can't I come too? Please, noona?"

It took a lot of refuse his cute voice, but you did make a promise to Yoongi and you never broke your promises.

"Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

Reliving your memory was abruptly interrupted by two fingers sliding into your pussy.

"Excuse you," you muttered into Yoongi's lips. 

"What are you thinking about that's gotten you so wet, hm?" he drawled, dripping water down your cheeks and chest, kissing from your lips and up your jaw, slowly working his fingers in and out, your wetness thicker, warmer than the water, leaking down his knuckles. His voice in your ear, low and dangerous, making you fall for him more and more. "Thinking about me or the maknae?"

...

Min Yoongi knew you too well.

"T-That's..."

Couldn't think of a smart comeback, not with Yoongi's voice so sensual and invasive, staring up at the hazy ceiling while he sucked on your ear, biting your lip to stifle your moans, nerves lighting with shivering arousal. His fingers controlled, measured, focused on deeply penetrating you to graze your favorite spots, rubbing your walls and pressing his thumb into your clit, slow circles causing throbs of pleasure to glide through you. Yoongi knew all the places that made you weak, licking right under your ear to make you whimper for him, kissing and sucking up and down the curve. The warm water created a steady hum, background music for his dirty words. 

"Is that why Jungkookie ran so fast to the bathroom earlier today, hm? Mmm, you shouldn't mess with him so much. You should know better as his noona," Yoongi murmured softly, speeding up, catching your earlobe with his teeth and tugging on it, words slightly muffled as he continued, waves of heat flaring upwards with every thrust. "He'll keep teasing you, pretending it's for ARMY, and then when he has you next, he'll make you beg for his cock…" Teeth biting down, leaving a visible mark, his gravelly whisper sparking inhibitions. 

"And I'm going to watch you."

Fuck you, Min Yoongi, for always knowing the right thing to say.

Yoongi flicked your clit and you cried out, bucking into his hand, almost losing balance, but his left arm came up behind the small of your back and held you in place, strong and unyielding, orgasm cut short with your sudden worry of straining his recovery, but Yoongi already knew, cooing comfortingly in your inflamed ear. 

"I was dancing during the recording, remember?"

Right, he was cleared to dance, but still...

And again, Yoongi led you back into the proper headspace, kissing and nipping down your neck, tongue against your collarbones, stroking your side with his left hand as his right pushed in and out of you, building the pace and your needy gasps once more. 

"Shh, you're a good girl, don't move and nothing bad will happen."

A tinge of menace in his voice, indicating the double meaning, I won't get hurt and maybe you won't get punished. Only a maybe though, sending a delighted spark up your spine, pressing your shoulder blades into the shower wall, instinctively raising one of your legs to give Yoongi more space. You glanced down, but he wasn't looking at you, eyes calmly closed, soaked black strands sticking to his forehead as his pink lips wrapped around one of your nipples. Instant pleasure from his expert tongue, teasing the moans of his name out of you, praising him, fuck yes, Yoongi, so good, I love this, fingers filling you repeatedly, thumb knuckle grinding onto your clit, sucking on your hard nipple. You were so focused on the feeling that your torso froze up, head and hands pressed into the wall, back arcing as you came, pulses of ecstasy enveloping you, but Yoongi didn't stop, forcing another finger inside your tight hole, whines in your throat as your shuddering pussy sucked it in, still riding waves of aftershocks.

His left hand slid up and pinched your ignored nipple. 

"Yoongi, fuck...!"

You could only curse the gods that created the genius that was Min Yoongi, chuckling as he rubbed your left nipple, sucked on the right, thumb knuckle on your clit, three fingers fully stuffed inside you, so hard and so fast that his forearm was nearly vibrating. Too coordinated, too rough, too much, mind going blank, already orgasming, and again, and again, not stopping.

He was too good. 

Yoongi wasn’t going to stop until you made him. 

Your eyes rolled back, rocketing bolts of pleasure overtaking everything, entire body shaking and quivering with overstimulation, your own knuckles white because your fingers somehow curled into fists, moans rattling your chest as wave after wave of pleasure attacked you, pushing you to the brink of collapse.

"Y-Yoongi, oh, fuuuuuuuk, Yoongi!"

Your body made the executive decision for you, left hand shooting down and grabbing his forearm, gripping it tightly, gasping for air, making sure to keep his long fingers buried all the way inside, his hard muscle flexing under your palm. Fuck, so hot. Yoongi immediately stopped, detaching his mouth from your nipple, and you could barely protest, tremors thundering through your torso as your pussy spasmed and soaked his fingers with your sweet-sour juices, your inner muscles rapidly clenching and unclenching around him, his low moans filling your ears as he felt each strong pulse, stretching his fingers against your convulsing walls to amplify your pleasure and feel it all.

"Fuck..." Yoongi panted, leaning against you and your heaving chest. "Fuck, you're so pretty when you're wrecked." 

His lips on your temple, kissing you fiercely, grinding his crotch into your hip and revealing how hard he was as you tried to come down, tried to calm your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You turned your head to face him and he was there, devouring your lips with rough kisses, pulling his fingers out to tug and pinch at your nipples with his knuckles, smirking at your submissive whines, your hands wandering down and gripping his length, leisurely stroking him.

Now Yoongi was the one gasping into your mouth, switching to rubbing your hard sensitive nipples to coax you to do more, switching your positions in the shower so his back was to the water. The two of you were only half-finished washing up, but neither of you seemed to notice or care.

You backed up a little, breaking the kiss, seeing Yoongi’s dazed expression as you lightly cupped the head of his cock in your palm, gently rolling into the slickness, continuing for several seconds before adding a little more pressure. He inhaled sharply, pleading for more with his breathing alone. His chin was slightly tilted upwards, black hair sticking to his forehead, pink lips slightly parted, water trickling in rivets down his neck and chest.

Yoongi noticed you staring and gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk.

Who taught Jeon Jungkook how to be hot as hell?

It had to have been Min Yoongi.

You mentally took note of this image of wet Yoongi so you could masturbate to it later.

He cocked a brow and you cocked one back, challenging him. Then you dropped to your knees, careful with the slippery floor, and yanked his hips to your face so he blocked all of the water with his body. His stiff length smacked you in the lips and smeared pre-cum on them. You heard Yoongi gasp and you looked up, seeing him watching you, expectation and hunger in his dark eyes.

You smirked, tongue snaking out and licking your lips to taste him.

“Is my good girl going to do all my favorite things?” he drawled in his extra-low octave.

Your pussy throbbed at his domineering tone. You didn’t have to say anything, your scorching gaze alone creating that amused smirk on Yoongi’s lips. I know what you want. One hand holding up his cock, leaning forward, and Yoongi groaned in satisfaction, your mouth sucking in one of his balls, your deft tongue circling the other in loud, messy slurps, suffocating one while licking the other. You flicked your wrist back and forth, pumping his cock as you worked his balls, lips tight and pulling slightly, tongue flexed and slapping against the other.

You looked up at Yoongi’s dilated pupils, knowing that he could see flashes of your pink tongue against his balls, your hand stroking him slowly and deliberately.

“You’re so good, fuck… So fucking good at that,” Yoongi panted. “Every other man in the world is jealous that they’re never going to get to experience this.”

You popped your mouth off, making him hiss with pleasure. “That’s not true. I’ll give it to Jungkookie eventually.”

“Ah, he’s lucky that I picked him.”

You raised your eyebrows, you picked him, uh huh, I was the one stalking him on Twitter, and Yoongi nudged you with his hips, eyes narrowing dangerously, put my balls in your fucking mouth, and you obeyed, switching to his right side and sucking it into your plush lips, tongue snaking out to lap at his left one, now pumping him with your dominant right hand. He sucked in a breath, moaning softly, clenching his jaw as you increased to his favorite pressure and speed.

“Fuck, yes, make me cum just like this,” he snarled, as much a plea as it was an order, rocking his hips a little so he tugged on his balls in your mouth, forcing you to suck harder and lick more roughly to keep him in place, obscene slurps adding another layer to the song that was the falling water, Yoongi’s moans, and the rapid slap-slap-slap of your hand furiously jacking off his twitching hardness. You glanced up at him and he was observing you closely, drinking in every second of your mouth, hand, and spread-open thighs as you kneeled for him, water dripping off your nipples and ass, groaning your name, tone saturated with lust.

“Ah, fuck, I love you so much, you look so fucking good like this…”

You could tell he was getting close with how shallow his breathing was becoming. Tighter, harder, so devoted to the cause that you were whimpering to add vibration to the multiple sensations, drunk on the taste of his skin and the scent of his pre-cum right next to your head, needing it, wanting it, right now, your eyes telling him, please Yoongi, cum for me, want you to cum for me so bad, and he bit his lip, tense growl contained in his throat that morphed into a drawn-out wail.

“Fuck, now, fuck!”

You abruptly pulled off his balls and Yoongi gasped, startled and confused as you quickly repositioned yourself so he shot thick strings onto your mouth, painting your red swollen lips with drizzles of white, up your cheek and onto your nose, dark eyes wide as he witnessed his indecent mark on you. Like something out of a literal porno, your lips coated with glossy lines of his semen. You looked up at him, still holding his cock, sinfully triumphant.

Your devious smirk covered in cum.

“You wicked, dirty woman,” Yoongi breathed in amazement.

His hand was travelling down so you removed yours, already guessing what was coming next. You placed your hands on your thighs, sinking into the softness as Yoongi groaned, wrapping his fingers around his cock, pumping himself slowly to the image of your cum-covered puffy lips, red and white, upper body tilted back so your hard nipples pointed upwards towards him, squeezing your breasts together with your arms while your hands kept your thighs spread, wet pussy exposed to him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, so hard you could see the flashes of veins standing out through his fingers. “You’re too much, too sexy, come closer so I can use that mouth.”

You scooted nearer and Yoongi pushed his cock into your lips, moaning as he watched his orgasm smear down his length and disappear with each centimeter his cock into your tight, hot mouth, your eyes taking in the jerks of his shoulders and slack jaw, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. He was so turned on that you knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted, but there was no stopping him now, already shallowly thrusting. You knew how to make him pause though, tightly tensing your throat muscles around the tip. Yoongi threw his head back, your name a desperate whine.

“Please, shit, I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck…”

Slowly Yoongi’s head rolled back and you took the chance to slide your tongue out, hands coming up to cup his balls, licking them in playful figure-eights with his entire length crammed down your throat, barely able to breathe.

You didn’t care.

Yoongi was in literal heaven.

Swearing, gasping, moaning, enjoying it for a good twenty seconds before fitting his right hand behind your head, tangled in your wet hair.

“Hold me,” he gritted out. “Hold me so I can fuck your face.”

You backed up a little to take a deep lungful of air, placing your hands on his hips. There was so much adrenaline coursing through your veins that you didn’t even notice that your knees were screaming in pain, completely focused on getting your throat ready for Yoongi’s abuse.

Your eyes flickered up to him, giving him the signal.

Yoongi grinned and began to thrust into your mouth. You adjusted your neck a little and Yoongi hissed, the throbbing head of his cock now rubbing against the roof of your mouth with every slide down your throat, rolling his hips into your face. You could tell he wanted to keep it slow, but his body craved the speed and he finally gave in, fucking your face mercilessly, fast and rough, nearly choking you but not quite, and that was the best part, Yoongi always knowing the edge, always knowing how much you could take, chuckling darkly as your moaned around his cock, trying not to dig your nails into his skin.

“It’s okay, do it,” Yoongi nudged, devilish edge to his voice. “Do it. No one is going to look there.”

Eye contact.

You sure?

He ticked a brow.

How many people were going to look at his ass? Eh, he was right.

You sank your nails into his hips and dragged them down, creating red scratches around his crotch.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped with your name, urging you for more, you clawing at his ass as he forced himself between your tight lips, marking him up, praying no one was going to ask why his ass looked like a cat’s scratching post, but it was doomed, your cries vibrating his cock, Yoongi losing control, lustful shudder as his cock jolted in your mouth, spilling down your throat. You swallowed greedily, puffing breath around his thick length, sucking a little so you could feel every quiver, his taste strong and salty, so delicious that your pussy pulsated with satisfaction even through it wasn’t being stimulated.

You felt Yoongi caress your wet hair, soft praises floating down to your ears. You licked him delicately, ghosting your tongue around and around the head. He shivered, exhaling hard.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well…”

You felt his cock soften. You did what any sensible human would do and took him all the way in your mouth to bounce his balls with your tongue.

Yoongi chuckled.

“You’re crazy.”

You gave him your gurgled response with his dick still down your throat.

“You’re right, I do love it.” He tapped your cheek. “But the water’s getting cold, so let’s finish this shower and get into bed.”

-

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to my ripped panties?”

“From last time? Don’t know. Jungkook had them in his pocket.”

You frowned, working product through your wet hair. “I hope he threw them away safely.”

Yoongi looked thoughtful. “Ah, is that what he snuck over to Jimin’s room for?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “It would be a good cover.”

You gawked at him.

Yoongi didn’t elaborate, going back to daintily and dutifully applying his skincare.

-

Get into bed.

This wasn’t exactly what you thought Yoongi meant, but you weren’t mad at it.

“Fuck, that’s so insanely hot…”

You were kneeling on the bed, chin on the pillows, knees spread, hands on your ass cheeks to spread your pussy open so your boyfriend Min Yoongi could watch you flex your wet opening.

At least he gave you time to blow-dry your hair before ordering you around.

For the moment, you were staring at the headboard, keenly concentrating on the exact precision and force needed to open and close with varying degrees. Most of the time, there was no need to be this focused, but Yoongi had asked for a show, so you were going to give him one. You could hear him slowly stroking himself, panting with exertion and awe. The bed sank a little as his weight was added, coming up behind you. Anticipation zipped through your veins, heartbeat spiking.

“A-ah!”

You felt a cold, fine spray on your ass and back. The fuck? Then the scent hit you, sudden citrus mixed with a verdant musk and the base of pine wood. On your skin, it immediately morphed, turning warmer, almost smokier, different than how it smelled on Yoongi. You twisted your head around, giving Yoongi’s smirking face a startled look.

“Did you just spray me with your cologne?”

He tucked his tongue between his neat white teeth. “No.” Which obviously meant yes.

You narrowed your eyes. “You shouldn’t do that. Someone might figure it out.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow underneath his fluffy black bangs. “I’m sure many people buy and wear my cologne, including women. Can’t keep anything a secret these days.”

There was a twinge of arrogance and wistfulness in his deep voice, but before you could break it down and ask, what about me, Yoongi leaned in and shoved his tongue into your pussy.

“F-fuck, Yoongi!”

His satisfied groan trembled through your nerves, igniting arousal and causing you to clench around his tongue involuntarily. He didn’t have to say it, both of you already thinking it, keep going, but now you were gasping, getting wetter and wetter with the addition of Yoongi’s tongue lazily sliding up and down as your muscles contracted and relaxed, letting him feel your skill and power, his moans vibrating through you from your core. It was already slick and getting slicker, Yoongi’s tongue gracefully sliding through your folds, thrusting into your hole, your juices like honey seeping onto his greedy mouth, so fucking good you didn’t need to control it anymore, it was just happening, and it took everything in you not to shove your ass into his face even though you wanted to, because you didn’t want to make any sudden movements and accidentally hurt him when he had already worked so hard today.

Yoongi chuckled.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, knowing he could see the strain in your arms and the tremble of your hips trying to keep your position as he sucked on your clit.

He removed his mouth and you grumbled in disappointment, cutting yourself off when you heard the distinct rip of a foil packet.

“No, fuck you.”

Yoongi said it as if he was telling someone the time and not about to forcefully plunge his dick right into where his mouth was a second ago.

“Ah, fuck yes, Yoongi…”

He sank right in, stretching you out deliciously, sighing as your wet walls molded around his cock, familiar and wonderful. You finally had the chance to remove your hands from your ass so you could hold yourself up, relieving some of the pressure on your poor knees.

“I’m choosing to ignore your disrespect,” Yoongi purred, placing his hands on your hips and bottoming out, his balls smacking your engorged clit roughly, earning a low hiss from your throat. Your fingers twisted into the sheets, breathing hard as your body adjusted. He was asking you how you wanted it. You clicked your tongue and turned your head back, seeing him watching you closely under his black hair shadowing his dark brown eyes.

“What a nice guy,” you remarked in a cool, defiant tone, borderline bored.

Come on, Yoongi, mess me up.

His lips curved into that devious, open-mouthed smirk you loved so much.

“Mhm.”

He slid out and slapped his crotch into your ass, hard.

“Yes, Yoongi, fuck!”

Your nails sank into your palms and you shoved your fists into the sheets, locking your upper body so you could push back into his rough thrusts, pleased grin on your lips, his perfect cock filling you over and over again, core tensed tight to feel all of him, the thick head forcing its way deep inside slick velvet, the rock-hard length twitching against each ridge, his balls bouncing against your inflamed clit, so full, so good, so intense that it almost hurt.

It wasn’t enough.

Panting hard, chest shuddering, you reached up and planted a hand flat against the headboard and clenched your jaw, bucking back into Yoongi’s crotch. His voice was mind-numbingly deep, full of desire and danger.

“Harder it is, my love.”

You smirked, then gasped as you felt the hot sting of Yoongi’s palm on your ass, the sound reverting against the apartment walls. He didn’t stop, fucking you hard into the bed and slapping your ass as you kept up with his pace, doing half the work for him so he could focus on each sharp spank to make your ass bounce on his cock, the bed screaming for you two to stop, but neither of you noticed, completely focused on chasing wild, feral pleasure, Yoongi growling your name and you moaning at his carnal tone, soaking his skin with thick, sweet-smelling juices, pussy violently massaging his length.

“That’s it,” Yoongi hissed, breathing rapid and shallow, ceasing his slapping of your red ass to seize your hips and fuck you even harder, digging his nails into your skin and marking you with his lust. “Feels so good fucking this perfect body just the way I like.”

Fuck, his voice, taking your heart and setting your world into lustful wildfire, no one like him, nothing like this, making you lose your mind and fuck back against him harder, the roller coaster climbing higher and higher and higher, Yoongi cursing under his breath, and you were so far gone that you almost didn’t pick up his words.

“Shit, Jungkookie would have loved watching you get wrecked by me.”

A low moan ripped from your throat, the thought of Jungkook’s needy voice and expression seeing you get pounded by Yoongi’s full strength, being told to watch and probably not being able to help touching himself, fuck, you wanted it, wanted Jungkook so bad at that very moment, wanted to show him how ruined you were, knowing he would love it, crave it, desire it, fuck, it was too much and you came hard, seeing stars, planets, fuck it, the whole fucking galaxy, fingernails curling into the headboard and whining at the sensitivity, body rolling onto Yoongi’s cock and squeezing it powerfully. Yoongi gasped out your name, grip tightening as he spilled into the condom, his length pulsating and twitching into your walls. You thought that was it, but Yoongi’s fingers snaked down between your legs.

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck!”

He roughly rubbed your aching clit with two fingers, forcing you to cum again around his cock, moaning loudly with every convulsion of your overstimulated pussy, viscous juices clinging to the insides of your joined thighs, completely defeating the purpose of the fucking shower, but neither of you seemed to remember that, Yoongi too busy using his last ounce of strength to push you to your limit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and vibrating his fingertips against it, your eyes rolling back and spine clattering as another orgasm blasted through you, up your torso and straight to your head, numbing pleasure overtaking everything, arm going slack and forgetting to hold yourself up, hand slipping on the headboard, fatigue finally having its way.

Yoongi was quick to slide his hand up your belly and keep you up, wiry strength of his right arm balancing between your breasts to prevent you from falling into the bed.

“Holy f-fuck…”

The words sounded far away even though they were yours, the resounding beat in your ears being your pulse trying to catch up, nerves tingling all over, acutely aware of the tiny flinches gliding across your skin, aftershocks of a particularly explosive orgasm. Your pussy was still throbbing around Yoongi’s spent cock, locking him in your embrace. You planted your hands onto the bed and lifted yourself up rather shakily, taking the burden off Yoongi’s arm.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, caressing the underside of your breast lightly.

You had the energy to raise one hand and give him a thumbs-up.

He rapped your ribcage. “Stop that.”

You chuckled, finding your voice a bit hoarse. “Why? You always do it in pictures.”

You heard Yoongi mumble disapprovingly behind you. “Is that why you do that? To make fun of me when I take photos?”

“Almost eight years of being an idol and you still don’t know what to do with your hands in pictures,” you teased.

He pinched your nipples roughly and you yelped.

“I know what to do with my hands around you,” Yoongi growled, rubbing them between his fingertips, your moans radiating off his walls. “And that’s what matters.”

-

interlude 20210419 drabble — “This is not allowed, you two.”

part vi “Shh, you’re not allowed to tell anyone.”

--

masterpost

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Resurrect Me (N.R.)

Warnings: swearing; death; Hell/the Underworld; cliff jumping lol

Word Count≈ 3.1k (yikes lol my bad)

Hecate一 the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Known to be an intricate mosaic of good and evil, destruction and beauty. Capable of granting wishes, summoning the dead, resurrections, teleportation, warping realities on unfathomable scales, mind control, energy manipulation, and any sorcery or magic known to the Gods. Second only to Zeus himself.

I am the human embodiment of Hecate. I am not Hecate; she merely resides in the depths of my soul and provides me guidance. We do not communicate through words; she speaks through dreams and gut feelings, and sometimes even through signs in the outside world. I have not mastered the powers she’s granted me, nor have I reached my full potential. In addition to the Goddess’ powers, I hold the basic Olympian powers, such as superhuman speed and stamina. I have no recollection of how I merged with Hecate or the life I lived before this point, and she has provided me with no answers, but I do not question her motives. 

Agent Phil Coulson came across me in my temple in Turkey. Apparently, he had discovered strange energy readings coming from the temple. When he arrived, I used the power of energy manipulation to blow the concrete off of me, and that is the first thing I remember一 emerging from underneath Hecate’s temple.

I joined the Avengers during the Battle of New York. Agent Coulson had recommended me to Fury when he was piecing together the Avengers Initiative. In the three years between my awakening and the invasion, I practiced my sorcery mercilessly and studied Hecate deep in the Greek countryside. I’ve stuck with the Avengers throughout the years, fighting every battle alongside them. Through the ups and downs, I’ve fallen head over heels for Natasha Romanoff. One would assume that with so much power, I’d be confident and have any mortal begging at my feet. That couldn’t be any more inaccurate, however. As I’ve said, I am not Hecate; I am simply the human embodiment of the goddess. And as a human, I turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever the levelheaded assassin is near. Consequently, there have been many years of pining, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage to ask the woman on a date.

In our most recent war, we’ve gone up against a mad titan一 Thanos. We lost terribly. Half of all living things inhabiting the universe were snapped away. I can’t help but ponder whether things would’ve gone differently if I had better mastered my powers. I potentially hold all the capabilities of the goddess of magic; aside from Zeus, I hold more power than any being to ever exist. I’ve practiced my sorcery every day for the past five years on the off chance that we ever get a rematch一 a chance to bring everyone back. I’ve improved significantly, but Hecate has been oddly quiet for the past few years. It’s driving me crazy. I know she’s still there, but she hardly provides an ounce of guidance.

And so, that is where I find myself now一 practicing sorcery in the room specifically designed to isolate me when I use dark magic. Everyone who has access to the training section of the compound knows that they should never enter this room. It is far too dangerous for regular mortals. As I warp the room’s reality, a dark mist envelops me. When it clears, the room has changed into a 50s ballroom. I look down to see an elegant maroon ball gown covering my body, and I scan the empty area. I hear a pair of heels clicking toward me, and I spin around, already panicking. In order for someone to be here with me, they would have to be an inhabitant of the location’s true reality. My eyes land upon the woman I’ve grown to love, dressed up for the event. She is wearing an extravagant light blue ball gown, and her hair is carefully done up. 

“Natasha? What are you doing here?”

“Why I came to dance with you, of course.” She steps closer and drapes her arms around my neck, swaying to the nonexistent music. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There’s no way I’m making her do this. I’m not even doing anything! Of course I’m the one making her do this, who else would it be?! Breathe in. Breathe out. My powers don’t control me. I control them. Just breathe. I can do this. I know how to do this.

As I focus on the magic coursing through my veins, a black mist envelops us, and the room returns to its original form一 a basic training room with black padded walls. I immediately take a large step back from Natasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Natasha?! You know you can’t come in here! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“I...I’m sorry. I thought you’d just be moving shit with your mind. I didn’t realize you could do...that, whatever that was.”

“That was reality manipulation. I didn’t know you were here and I don’t have full control of it, so you got caught up in it. Are you okay? Do you remember it?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day. I was still me and I was still in control, it was just...different, I guess.��

“Well, I literally warped your reality, so even if you felt in control, you might not have been.”

“You stopped it, though. I remember when that seemed impossible. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but Scott Lang is here. We might have a way to bring everybody back.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit. It’s happening. Okay, come on then!” I eagerly walk past her, grabbing her hand as I pass her, and we leave my training room. I realize that I’m still holding her hand as we make it to the meeting room, and I immediately drop it, clearing my throat. If I wasn’t so familiar with the sensation, then I would swear that my ears and cheeks are on fire.

<//>

We all step onto the platform in matching white and red time-travel suits. “We’re really doing this?”

“Hell yeah, we’re doing this,” Clint answers.

“Alright, then. We bring everybody back,” I say with determination. “Whatever it takes,” Steve adds.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha adds with a smirk. Before I can appreciate how beautiful she looks with the glimmer of hope in her eyes, we’re flying through a flurry of colors. Nebula, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, and I land on Morag. We all say our respective goodbyes before Nat, Clint, and I get on a jet to head to Vormir.

<//>

“A soul for a soul.”

“What? That’s insane. Look, no offense, Mr. Bloody Tampon, but why should we just trust what you’re saying? Because you know their fathers’ names?”

“I didn’t.” I looked into Natasha’s eyes as she spoke and I instantly wish that I could replace the dull sadness with the bright hope that had filled them before.

“He doesn’t know my father’s name. If he’s some mystical being, then why can’t he tell me that?” I turned to face him as I asked the question.

“I’m afraid you are a mystery. I am meant to know everything about any being who seeks the stone, but I know nothing of your identity.”

“Hm. Seems like a load of bullshit to me,” I deadpanned.

“We need to do this. We need to bring everyone back. I’ve spent the past five years trying to reverse the snap, and now I finally know how to fix it. Let me do it.” As Natasha spoke, she grabbed both of my hands in hers.

“And I’ve spent every day for the past five years training to do this. I wasn’t just practicing sorcery and talking to dead people for fun, Nat. All I wanted was to do better一 to fix this. If anyone is jumping off that cliff, it’s gonna be me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Neither of you is dying for that stone. I’ve done horrible things these past few years. I’ve killed...so many people. It should be me,” Clint says, and Natasha and I turn to face him, but one of her hands remains in mine.

“No way in hell, Clint. And not you either, Nat. Both of you guys have families. You’re not sacrificing yourselves. I won’t let you. And you can’t stop me even if you try.” Nat gives me a questioning look as I mention her family and I speak in her head ‘I know about them, Nat. And they need you. She needs her big sister.’

“What are you saying?” I can hear the anxiety lacing Nat’s words, and it causes a pit to form in my stomach.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Natty.” 

“Then you don’t leave me much of a choice.” She shoots a Widow’s Bite toward me, but I stop it using energy manipulation without even having to lift a finger.

“You can’t beat me, Nat. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

“I call bullshit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint running toward the edge while we’re distracted, and I teleport in front of him, throwing him backward. I use mind control to force him to stay down. I sense Natasha running toward the edge behind me, and I teleport in front of her. I use energy manipulation to keep her in place, and I grab onto her biceps.

“I’m really sorry, Nat. I hate that I’m doing this to you, but I can’t let you throw yourself off a cliff for some stupid stone. Your life is worth so much more than that. You’re an amazing person, and your ledger was cleared of its red so long ago. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a goodbye.”

“You can be sarcastic all you want, but I’m not walking out of this one, Natty.”

“Don’t do this. The team needs you.”

“No, they don’t, Nat, and we both know it. They need you.”

“And what if I need you?!”

“Well if that’s the case, you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. Don’t let something like this hold you back. Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff.” I kiss her cheek before turning around. I start walking towards the edge, but it quickly turns into a sprinting pace as I hear Nat screaming for me to stop. Just before I reach the edge, I lift the mind control from Clint and I release Nat, just in case it doesn’t automatically lift when I die. I push myself off the cliff, turning mid-jump so I’m not facing the ground. As I’m falling through the air, I see Clint holding Nat in his arms as her screams fill my ears. I hit the ground and everything goes black.

<//>

“Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you again.” I sat up and一 what the hell is that smell? “Ah, yes. That would be burning flesh. Welcome to Hell, darling.”

“Uh...what? Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain, hm? I am Hecate, Goddess of一”

“Yeah, I know what you’re the goddess of. How did I get here?”

“I thought you were smarter than this. You died, obviously.”

“And went to Hell? Damn.”

“Oh, relax. Hell isn’t what the mortals think it is. This is the Underworld. All of the dead reside here. The bad people get punished, the good people don’t. Simple as that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I need to explain. I am cursed; I cannot leave the Underworld. However, my human embodiment can, and that is where you come into play. You hold all my power, and I can see you’ve been practicing, but you’ve never lived up to your full potential.”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Don’t interrupt. I didn’t allow you to live up to your full potential, not until we met, anyway.”

“And I had to die in order for that to happen?”

“Yes. I’m giving you all of my power, but I can still stop you if I ever need to. I know you don’t want to risk hurting the people you love, especially the redhead, but you need to trust yourself. Trust your powers. Have a little faith. You are a goddess, remember. Don’t let people forget it. That purple thumb is nothing compared to you, even with his colorful rocks. Your family needs you now. You must help them.”

“That’s it? Why do they need help? How will I know what to do?”

“I will always be there to help you, Y/N. You can handle this. This is nothing. You are part of me, just as I am part of you. You are my daughter, after all. I should know your capabilities better than anyone.”

“Wait, daughter?!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home, darling.” 

The earth above us cracks open and I can hear faint sounds of fighting on the surface. I look at Hecate as she nods. Before I even realize I’m doing it, black mist surrounds my body and lifts me through the crack. I step out of the mist onto the ground and a staff appears in my right hand. I tap it once on the ground and my white suit is replaced by an all-black leather outfit that’s definitely made for a goddess. I smirk and make eye contact with the titan across the battlefield. His sickly creatures race toward me as they notice the new threat on the field. I summon an army of ghouls from the cracks in the earth. As the aliens and the undead clash, I teleport in front of Thanos.

“And who might you be, dear?” He acts confident, but I can sense his fear.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Hecate.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Oh, did someone not study mythology? Hm, then let’s be blunt, shall we? I’m a goddess, ass-chin.” I throw my staff at his throat, but he catches it. He moves to swing his large sword at me, but I capture his arm in black mist. When he tries to move the other arm, I restrain that one, as well. “Well, that surely can’t be all you’ve got, hm? Pity, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” If I were to look in a mirror at that moment, I would’ve noticed my ghostly pale skin, black eyes, and the raw power spreading through my veins like a black road-map.

“It’s not over yet, my dear child.” Before I can question the meaning of his words, an alien tosses him the gauntlet. It slides on his exposed hand, but I hold it open with dark magic. I look around and notice that the army of the undead is nowhere to be seen. My teammates are pinned down, even with the help of those who were snapped. There is a feeling in my gut and a voice in my head that tells me what I must do. I pull the gauntlet off his hand with black mist and slide my hand inside. I feel the power surging into my body. “What are you doing? That power will kill you!” Thanos sounds truly desperate.

“That’s cute. Truly, it is, but you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” I close my hand and snap my fingers. His army fades to dust and he slumps to the ground before floating away with them. I drop the gauntlet to the ground and look around. Natasha runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck in a firm hug.

“Wha一what happened to you? How are you here? I thought you died!”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder before saying, “I did die. I am dead.”

She pulls away and looks at me from head to toe. “Well that explains why you’re so damn pale, but now I have so many more questions.”

“I am Hecate’s daughter, so I am technically a goddess, like her. I’m not sure if I was technically resurrected or not, but I can probably一”

She cut me off with a gentle yet passionate kiss. She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” she admits.

“Me too,” I breathe out.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re not very discrete.” I laughed and a smirk spread across her face. “As sexy as this whole ‘powerful goddess’ thing is, am I going to get the old you back? You know, the one who blushes whenever I look at her? The one who’s, like, alive?”

I smile at her and glance down at her lips as a thick black mist appears behind me. I step backward into it as her face morphs into a look of confusion. She disappears from sight as a wall of black fills my vision, and a surge of power spreads throughout my body. I fall to my knees and the black cloud disappears. Natasha rushes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m alive again.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.

“Your skin isn’t crazy pale anymore, and your eyes are their normal color again.”

“Sweet.”

“Cool.”

We both crack up and I lean my forehead against hers as our laughter fades.

Tony interrupts our moment of peace. “This is all good and dandy, but does someone wanna explain what the hell just happened?”

I raise my head and look at my teammates一 my family. “I kicked the purple thumb’s ass. That’s what happened.” I can feel a warm presence in my heart, and I know that my mother is with me.

“Yes, yes, I noticed. I also noticed a bunch of demons. Care to explain that one?”

“They weren’t demons...they were just...the souls...of dead people. I can summon the dead. You knew that.”

“Uh, I definitely didn’t know that.” I laugh and shake my head at the eccentric man. 

I stand up, pulling Natasha with me, and bring her into another embrace. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Natty,” I whisper in her ear before pressing a delicate kiss to her temple.

A/N: I literally had this completely finished and edited over a month ago and I hadn’t posted it yet soooooo... idk here it is

[juniorgman187]

Any Day Now (Reid Fic)

A/N: Plz imagine being impregnated by season 10 Spencer Reid. WHEWW CHILE

Summary: Reader’s pregnancy finally takes its toll on her, leaving both Spencer and Reader to navigate through rough waters from miles away.  Category: Fluff, Soft-soft-soft angst, One-Shot Pairing: (POV)Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warning: Pregnancy Word Count: 3.2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

At first, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Multiplied mood swings? Understandable, her hormones were everywhere. 

An ever-changing appetite? Great, at least now it wasn’t such a hassle for her to decide where to eat. 

A suddenly much tighter FBI vest? Well, that’s what the adjustable velcro straps were for. 

Again, nothing that I hadn’t already planned for. Even before I delved into parenting books galore, I had a pretty good general idea of what to expect. Not only because of JJ’s earlier pregnancy or Kate’s recent one, but more so because of my extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. This made riding the storm of (y/n)’s pregnancy easier ... until it didn’t. 

It was somewhere in her 35th week that things finally got the best of her. 

There was a linear increase of events that suggested things were taking a turn for the worse, so I slightly anticipated a steep decline to occur at any moment. For instance, soon after (y/n) started showing, I began to lose count of how many times I had to insert my hand between her seatbelt and her bump to create a gap just big enough so that the belt wouldn’t have such a suffocating restriction on her. Nor could I fully account for all the hours of sleep she’d lost tossing and turning, just trying to find a comfortable position where she wouldn’t be crushed by her own weight. And I certainly couldn’t remember, not even with my eidetic memory, how many times she’s almost walked out of the house completely barefoot after getting frustrated with her inability to put shoes on by herself. 

In some sad way, I knew she wished to regain some normalcy in her life. Not that she regretted motherhood, but that she wished she didn’t have to experience so many small inconveniences that summed up to something larger than the life she was helping come into fruition.

She just wanted to drink coffee again without running the risk of a miscarriage. She wanted to climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded by the first few steps. She wanted to put on a tight shirt without looking exceptionally overweight. And most of all, she just wanted to keep working.

If she had to go to hell and back to stay in the BAU while pregnant, then to hell and back she went. 

My wife, as stubborn as ever, had made me - and the entire team - promise not to baby her as soon as we revealed that we were expecting. 

“I don’t want any of that ‘but you’re pregnant’ crap, got it?” She narrowed her eyes darkly at all of us, pointing an accusatory finger. “Anything you can do, I can do pregnant.”

And from that day on, she did what she vowed to do, what I knew she could do. She still chased after unsubs, shot all the bad guys, arrested the felons, but eventually - inevitably - it wore down on her. 

The easiest effect I could identify was her drowsiness. It used to take her a while to fall asleep on the jet, and sometimes, she’d stay awake the entire flight. But after the grueling hours she’d endured during her pregnancy, we would barely board the plane before she knocked out. I think falling asleep in the seats gave her the comfort she couldn’t find lying horizontally in a bed. No one said anything, though, because she’d already made it explicitly clear that she didn’t want us to pay her any special treatment, which I understood. Nobody likes to be pitied, but after today’s incident, this went far beyond pity. 

It was just plain concern. 

“The doctor said I’ll be fine.” She grumbled, waving me away with a flick of her hand. However, seeing as she was currently lying in a hospital bed, donning a gown that only partially hid from me all the wires and pads that stuck to her body to monitor her health and relay it to the machines - she wasn’t fine. And I needed her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the team. (I didn’t tell her this because she would’ve quite literally took my head off, but they were all out there in the waiting room instead of working on the case). 

“Emphasis on the future tense ‘will.’ You will be fine, but right now, you’re not.” I prepared myself to deliver the news I knew she didn’t want to hear. My voice became significantly quieter, reaching such a low decibel I wasn’t sure she’d even hear it, but maybe that was by design. She didn’t want to hear it as much as I hated to say it. “Maybe you should consider going on maternity leave now.”

Immediately, my wife shook her head with the biggest pout I’d ever seen. I could see it in the way her lip quivered that she was about to cry, no doubt because of the hormones, but especially because this job was her last piece of normality. She clung to it because it was all she had left to remind herself that she was still, in some capacity, the woman she was before. 

“Spencer, please.” She begged, as if I could do anything. “I’m not ready to leave yet.” 

I pursed my lips and looked away for a second to hide my own emotions. Seeing her cry was never easy, but being the cause for it made this even harder. I felt the formation of a lump in my throat and the pricking of tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I can’t let you keep risking your health,” I explained, neglecting to voice the final part of that sentence. ‘Or our baby’s.’ But I didn’t say that. How could I? It would’ve only guilted her further. 

“Your blood pressure’s getting higher,” I explained, keeping my eyes steady on hers, not letting them stray to the machine that she clearly didn’t know how to read. But with one glance at the numbers, I already knew they weren’t good. I didn’t lead on just how bad they were, though. “You fainted today, and if you’d landed even a little bit differently, you would’ve ended up with a lot more than just a few scratches on your stomach.” That was the extent of my guilt-tripping. It didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth, but it was the only way I knew she would understand the severity of the situation. 

“You were already planning on going on maternity leave next week, what’s a few days earlier?” I asked, briefly referring back to her obstetrician’s recommendation of not flying after her 36th week. 

We both agreed that after week 36, she’d take her leave of absence since she couldn’t join us on the jet anyway. It was our ‘compromise.’ If she insisted on still going in the field, then she had to listen to the doctor’s orders and not fly for the last month. 

“Spencer,” She whispered again, this time with tears running down her cheeks at the bat of her eyes. With the pad of my thumb, I gently wiped them away, wishing I’d never caused them to be there in the first place. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

She never let on how difficult things had become for her. She never said it’s too much (and it must be too much some of the time). So when she finally admitted the burden her pregnancy had created, I could already sense its arrival. So without a second wasted, I pulled the guest chair right up next to her bed and sat in it while reaching for her hand. Despite the presence of the pulse oximetry on her index finger, I still took her hand between both of my own, not minding the gap that the device created. 

“You are the strongest woman I know. There aren’t many pregnant women out there who can do what you’ve done these past eight months. They wouldn’t even think of it.” We shared a brief laugh, which lightened the atmosphere enough to encourage me to continue. “You are bearing our child, (y/n). Nobody else gets to do that. Not me. Not another girl. Just you. It’s only you who can truly give for our baby right now and you’re -you’re my girl ... and right now, I need you to take care of our girl, okay?”

She nodded rapidly with still glistening eyes. For the first time, that day, she stopped thinking her job was as an agent and started knowing her job was as a mother. 

And a damn good one at that. 

_ _ _

If there was anything I’d learned over the past years, it was that I should never expect my wife to follow the rules. Today was no exception. 

She should’ve been in bed right now, taking it easy, but instead, she was standing right beside the jet, saying goodbye to each and every one of us before we boarded. 

This would be our first flight without her. 

“You take care, mama, okay?” Morgan told her, kissing her cheek before waving goodbye. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” Kate sighed, engulfing (y/n) in a hug that I knew couldn’t have been comfortable with each of their bumps in the way, but they relished in it anyway. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like Kate was about to cry. Maybe that’s because their dynamic was different than any other. Their simultaneous pregnancies meant that they knew one another’s struggles far better than any of us could, so granted, it would be hard for Kate and (y/n) to be away from each other. They’d been in this journey together after all, in a way I couldn’t have been.

“Oh,” JJ sighed happily, taking (y/n) in her arms and swaying gently from side to side. “You are going to be the best mother ever.” 

“Said the best mother ever.” (Y/n) remarked, laughing bittersweetly. It was something in her smile that let me know it was just for show. 

Then, in one of the rarest moments of history, Hotch hugged (y/n), earning a slightly more real smile from her.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered. 

Not even a second after they pulled away did Rossi wait to take (y/n)’s face in his hands and plant two kisses, one on either cheek. 

“If you need anything, you call us.” He ordered, mimicking a drill sergeant.

And though, I wasn’t ready, I found myself making my way to her, getting ready for one of the hardest goodbyes. 

She wrapped her arms around my torso and let her head press against my heart. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without you.” 

For the first time that night, she wasn’t faking a smile or putting on a face. I knew when she was saying goodbye that she was only laughing and grinning for everyone else, but underneath it all, she was experiencing a great sadness that no one else could understand. Everyone was just as excited as we were for this baby, if for no other reason than I was finally going to have a family of my own. That I’d finally found the people who were going to be there for me forever. And maybe it was that knowledge, the knowledge of how happy this baby made others, was the reason she never let it show just how hard it was for her. Otherwise, it’d ruin the fantasy. And so she wore happiness like a mask to hide the profound pain that would’ve wounded our spirits. 

“Hey, I’m not leaving you forever,” I whispered somberly, hugging her a little tighter. “And if anything happens, I’m just a phone call away.” As much as I tried to believe my words, neither of us could find the truth in it. Even I knew I wasn’t just a phone call away. I’d be miles and miles and miles away from two of the best things that have ever happened from me. 

She inhaled sharply and pulled away from me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the hope that I hadn’t already seen them. “I should probably let you go now.” She laughed lightly. 

Our bodies parted, but I had yet to let go of her hand. I shook it up and down gently as I told her, “I love you.”

She shook my hand back in just the same manner. “We love you, too.” 

A smile crept onto my face after the immediate realization of what she meant. 

My girls.

At last, when I walked up the steps to the jet, I finally let go of her hand at the last moment possible, and even after we released hands, our arms stayed outstretched for a passing second as the distance between them got further and further. With the warmth of her hand leaving mine vacantly cold, I watched as she replaced it on the very top of her stomach, as if to say, “We’ll be okay.” 

_ _ _

“Reid?” 

I refocused my vision to Morgan who was calling my name. From the look on his face, I realized he probably tried to get my attention multiple times before this. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head to clear my mind, but it didn’t work. A part of me was still in another world, lingering in thought. 

My mind would never shut up about her, but it seemed like today, it was firing all these things at me at 2x speed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact event that I felt guilty for, but really - take your pick. It could’ve been anything, it could’ve been everything. 

It could’ve been the fact that I was here and she wasn’t. It could’ve been the fact that in those last moments I saw her, I realized just how strong she was being this entire time, and how I was asking her to be even stronger, as if the weight of the world wasn’t enough. It could’ve been the realization that she was struggling this entire time, but never asked for help, thinking that she’d be a burden - the very thing she made us promise not to let her be. That is the reason after all, that she told us not to let her pregnancy be an excuse for anything. Because if she didn’t contribute anything, then she’d be holding us back - she’d be dead weight. I knew that, and yet, what did I do?

Nothing. I walked away and boarded that fucking jet like a brainless idiot.

I should’ve stayed with her. 

Morgan’s eyes turned to slits while he tossed the manila folder onto the table, seemingly setting it aside so it wouldn’t be a distraction from his question. “What’s going on, man?” 

I shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out, that’s all.” 

Clearly exasperated, he said, “Come on, man. Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Whether it was defeat or a sweet surrender, I tucked my hands in my pockets and let my head hang low, eyes glued to the ground. Unexpectedly, I was sniffling and wiping my nose before I could register that tears were already coming. “I’m just worried about her.” 

It felt stupid to admit, especially considering I saw her only 8 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds ago. But the absence of her and our baby was growing more and more apparent with every passing moment I spent in this office without her. Usually, she would be here to keep me company, bothering me while I located the comfort zone - not that she ever really did bother me. I quite liked her presence. 

Sometimes, when I was left alone, the room would get too quiet, and it’d just be me and my thoughts. And maybe she knew how scared of my own mind I was when it wandered, so she never let me be alone with it - never let the room get too quiet. She would talk and talk and talk, and I could never get tired of listening. Her voice was like white noise. If she was here, things would be as they always were. I would be standing at the map, and she’d no doubt be sitting in a chair, rubbing gentle circles around her protruding stomach as I felt her watching me intently. 

“Found it.” I would say, drawing a big red circle around the zone. 

To which she would say, “You’re a genius.” 

Sure, I’ve been called ‘genius’ a million times before, but it never felt the same as when she said it. 

Morgan could see the invisible pain in my chest, and he pulled me in by my shoulder to wrap his arm around me. It might not have looked like it, but it was the most reassuring hug he could’ve given me. I can’t explain it, but it felt like (y/n)’s warmth and love had possessed his body and he was radiating it now. 

“I know it’s scary, man, and honestly, we all wish we could be with her right now. But trust me when I tell you she’s not alone.” He treaded carefully with his words, and I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but that wanted me to figure out.

I didn’t even have to verbalize my question because soon enough, when Morgan pulled back, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Garcia.” He told me, though he didn’t answer the call, which was weird enough. But then he gestured to the computer on the table, and so I half-heartedly watched as the screen changed from the blue background to a video call with Garcia. 

And who else would be sitting beside her but my wife?

“Look who I’ve got with me!” Garcia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” I playfully scolded her.

“I was! I was, I promise. But after I said goodbye to you guys, I went home and got four hours of sleep, and then I went to my doctors appointment, but then when I was driving home, I thought why would I go back there when I’ve got everything I need right here?” She motioned around Garcia’s lair, even lifting up a hospital-go bag that Penelope no doubt compiled just for her. If there was anyone I trusted to take good care of her, it was Garcia. 

Like I said before, I learned to expect (y/n) not to follow the rules. So naturally, she found a way to still work even on maternity leave. 

At this point, the rest of the team neatly filed into the room, erupting in cheers of excitement at the sight of (y/n) in the bat cave. 

“Is everything okay?” JJ worriedly asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Baby looks good, my blood pressure’s getting better, so we’re doing okay.” She smiled proudly, and so did I. That was her first appointment on her own, and though it couldn’t have been easy, especially this late in her term, she did it anyway. Because that’s my girl.  

“When are you due, again?” Kate asked (y/n), earning an enthusiastic, “Doctor says if she’s on time, New Year’s Eve!” 

It never failed to make me smile whenever she brought up her due date. She was always excited to proclaim that our daughter might be brought into the world at the exact time we brought in the new year. 

“But if I’m early, it could be any day now.” She explained. 

Here’s where I had to cut in. “Hopefully not any day now! I don’t wanna miss it.” 

“You won’t!” She promised through a wide grin.

Something else you should know about my girl? She always keeps her promises. 

And on January 1, at exactly 12:00 - just as promised - I had the privilege of watching (y/n) deliver a healthy 6 pound and 9 ounce baby girl.

The weight of my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Can you tell I love it when someone says “my girl”? I think that’s my favorite pet name ever. 

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[choerypetal]

Old pals. Bucky Barnes x Reader

In which the reader and Bucky misses each other after being appart for many months and during the current events, he has been secretly looking for her.

*Very much inspired by Episode’s 3 of TFATWS*

Enjoy! 💗

Bucky has always been the type to be cautious about his surroundings and to whoever intended to enter into his life. The constant fear of losing someone became to much of a habit for him needless to say, he was very found of you the first time Steve has ever introduced you to him. The smile you flashed at him almost hitted him, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline he wished wanted to erase. Of course, not having to experience such emotions by the decades his cheeks turned into a shade of pink rather visible to which Sam in later events was his favorite thing just to tease the poor lovable boy.

After everything happened, everyone grew apart, first with Sharon offering you to stay with her in order to recover and of course to get your mind off things, especially since the new Captain America recently presented to the whole nation. You knew for a fact that neither Sam or Bucky was going to like it. “I wonder how they are taking the news.”

“Probably horribly,” Sharon knew the look on your face suddenly changing to quickly closing the TV. “You do realize you’ve been rewinding the same old scene over and over again, your making yourself more crazy.”

She was right, you couldn’t even remember the last time you spent without having to clue yourself in front of the TV screen. Since that day, Bucky’s face vaguely reoccured in your mind letting yourself as a distraction in hope he would come back one day.

“On earth to, Y/N.” Sharon’s voice woken you up to reality before quickly turning the TV off giving her a forced smile. “Don’t play the : I’m fine with me, tonight we have some guest and I’ll need more than my assistant to help.”

With a sigh you couldn’t really complain after all. If only there was one thing to keep you distracted from it all, it was definitely tonight’s party. At least you could stress over what to wear instead of what Bucky nor the new Captain America is up to.

Hours of preparation, Sharon decided to run for a last errands. “I suggest you get dressed right now. For my sake and yours, please Y/N.” And with that she left by giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “And brush that hair!”

Laughing softly to yourself, you were quite great full to have such a friend like hers. Heck if it wasn’t for Bucky’s and yours sake, Steve, the moment he knew what was the best, Sharon was his first instinct to keep you under her wings and that was also for the both of you sane.

Remembering the first day you ever met Bucky has always become your source of comfort. The smile he never once had shared with much people only Steve and you only showed how he was for the people he deeply cared. And deep inside, he felt every guilt for letting yourself go. Now if he could only see you again...

Hours passed and strangely Sharon’s errands felt like forever. You tried to call her only to be her voice call on the other end. All dressed, you decided to treat yourself with a little glass of wine that poorly sat there unused.

Taking your first sip you hear from afar few voices that seemed strangely familiar, with another voice with a sentence such followed. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m guessing someone will be more eager to see you both.” Sharon replied as the footsteps became more clearer and clearer. Frowning with confusion you tried however, to hide such little known about who might be behind the door and quickly sat down with a magazine in hand. “Y/N, Already dressed I see?”

Looking up from your current read you couldn’t really form an expression. That is when you saw the three men standing just before you. And one in particular seemed more troubled about seeing you here.

“Y/N? I thought...” Sam’s confusion was writing all over his face. Yet happy to see you but quickly cut him up.

“Dead? Guess I am not.”

Silence corrupted the room, that is when Zemo requested for a drink to Sharon whom served him right away. You smiled softly at both of the men, giving a warm hug to Sam first. “I missed ya,” He murmured in which you said the same in returned. “And grown to.”

Chuckling softly by his compliments you nudged him by the arm. On the other hand Bucky remain strangely calm. “How’s the cat?”

Sharon knew the relationship between you and him and you were great full that at least she was trying to break the discomfort between you two.

Groaning like usual Bucky rolled his eyes, “Doing great, thank you.” With not so little emotions shown his eyes remained on you. A little longer and you could feel a shade of pink appearing in your face. That is if you tried to covered it which failed by Zemo’s remark. “Are you okay, Y/N? You seemed a little flushed.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s response caught everyone on guard including Zemo in whom he quickly of course chuckled.

Sharon gasp by looking at the time. “Shit, guest are coming soon. I recommend you all to not make a damn mess. Your also welcomed with me.” And with that everyone including Bucky decided to show a little tour before the party could even starts.

Throughout the tour, Bucky remained by your side. You could feel his soft eyes on you as if to make sure you were okay. As Sharon, Sam and Zemos were listening or admiring the place at all, Bucky leaned to whisper a few words. “You look good tonight.”

Your eyes snapped at the scene in front of you, and looked at him. That soft smile you remembered is back and all you could do was to thanked him. “Thank you... you look not so bad yourself with that new hair cut.”

Chuckling softly you looked at him with confusion. “Guess everyone was right, we’re not the greatest with words ugh? And yet everyone seemed to be saying we have a thing for one another.”

“A little to optimist much?” You teased him and he simply shook his head laughing along with you. This little interaction of course didn’t last long, Sam with a smirk called the both of you. “Come on lovers! We have a party to attend to!”

With a smile on your face you took Bucky’s hand. “Shall we?” He nods and you lead him to the party.

Lights, music being blasted and people having a blast. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had a dance, and by over the years he knew he had to get himself on trends but of course that failed quickly.

“Dances in my days sure did changed.” He looked at everyone and met your eyes, in which sparkles through the colored lights. Feeling almost lost into them, not wanting to let go of such beauty in front of him. Before soon being woken up to reality by your voice, he dearly missed. “Well old man, let me show you what you’re missing.”

Your bodies getting closer and closer by the sound of the music, hips moving and his hands gently gripped itself around your waist. Seeing you this happy was probably a first for him and he sure wasn’t going to destroy such happiness not only you but for his own sake.

Feeling your lips brushing on his the moment you grew slightly more closer and a sudden blush crept on both of your cheeks. “God damn I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

He couldn’t take it any more, his lips soon kissing yours in return. Corrupted with such lust and hunger that whatever was around you seemed to have faded.

Not so long after it, Sam’s voice interrupted your moment in which a Bucky looked at rather irritated. “What? I was having some unfinished business here.”

“Sorry to break it to you both, but we got some business to do.”

With a sigh Bucky with his thumb wiped his moist lips, chuckling softly by the atomic duo you leaned to whisper. “I can wait.”

Shaking his head Bucky refused to do such things. “Sorry Sam, but we will have to wait a little longer.”

“I haven��t seen Y/N in ages and I need to show who she belongs to.”

[shaydeoffical]

Let’s Slip Away: Diluc x Fem Reader: Childhood Best Friend Au

Summary: You and Diluc slip away from the annual Dawn Winery Ball and confess. Reader then deals with some anxiety about the relationship and Diluc soothes them.  

Tags:

Lots of fluff, Creepus is a wonderful person, Diluc is so smooth, dancing under the moonlight, long fit.  

Diluc x Reader

Lets Slip Away

The annual Dawn Winery Masquerade Ball, the biggest ball this side of Mondstat, or it used to be. Thankfully, Diluc had successfully scaled the ball down in size a little more with each passing year. Still, it didn't make much of a difference with the ballroom still being packed tight. No matter how the guest list shrunk, people found a way to take up the same amount of space as before. There's nothing I loved more than a dance, but it was the people I couldn't stand. Everyone liked to pretend they were an evil aristocrat once their identity was concealed. A fancy dress, a decorative mask, and a new hairstyle, and everyone felt invincible. It was the same thing every year; they'd order the staff around, drink till they lost control, and leave the manor a mess. It was deplorable.

After watching a woman toss a glass on one of the maids, I lost my cool. I may or may not have tossed my grape juice on the women in retribution. The maid couldn't do it, so I had to use my position as "Master" Diluc's best friend to get away with it. What I didn't expect was for the lady's husband to toss not just the wine but the whole glass at my face. While the glass didn't bust when the base hit my head, it did leave a notable bruise, and the wine soaked through my hair, mask, and dress.

Elzer stepped in immediately to settle the issue, and instead of sticking around to get a lecture, I slipped into the garden. Hiding between several grapevines. I listened to the music pour from the house above and pouted. If I had played my cards right tonight, I would have been dancing in an empty corner with Turner or maybe even Diluc if he was free. He always saved the last dance for me. When the party started to clear a little, we'd stay in my favorite corner and have a quick dance while he whispered about he'll find a way to have the event canceled next year. But no, I was being eaten by mosquitos fighting off a headache.

Holding my mask between my hands, the once white fabric had stained dark red. Even my cream dress was littered with splotches that wrecked of dandelion wine. Sucking in my lower lip, I held back a sudden wave of sadness. It settled into my bones and swept through my limbs in a jitter. Why was I so sad? I avenged the maid and did the right thing… but my chest ached.   Curling around myself, I tucked my head between my lap. There was a time and place for crying, and a party wasn't one. Yet, there I was, sobbing into the fancy gown Diluc had hand made for me. Of course, he wouldn't be mad at me for what happened, but the guilt was eating me alive. I had ruined the evening for myself and made things harder on my friend. "There you are. I've been looking all over-. Hey, Elzer told me what happened, but he didn't mention a welt. How badly are you hurt?" Diluc pushed through the vines faster and hopped over the last row. He knelt beside me and carefully lifted my chin so he could see my face. "I'm just being a baby." I leaned back, the moonlight catching my skin. He ran his thumb over the knot on my forehead, and he clenched his teeth. "Damn bastard." He looked back at the mansion. "He might be wearing a mask, but there's only one person in Mondstat with monogram shoe buckles." "What?" I laughed; he was so serious, but the idea of a monogram shoe buckle had me drying up my tears. "Who pays for that kind of thing?" "Mr. Barker." Diluc wiped under my eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere besides your head?" "Besides the guilt of running the dress you got me and making the party harder for you to manage, I'm fine." I let it out. There was no use in pretending it wasn't bothering me. I had learned a lot about Diluc in our years of being together. While he was a very perceptive man when it came to solving crimes and putting things together, he didn't have the same skill for guessing how I felt. He's known something was wrong before, but he'd just find ways to blame himself if I didn't tell him. "I'll have you another dress made, and those Barkers aren't your fault. Ms. Barker started it, and I ended it. There's always a little drama at these events." He twirled my hair around his finger. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it entirely." "Don't go blaming yourself now." I scooted so close; I was almost in his lap. "Let's just focus on the music or the sky. I know you'll have to go back in soon, so let's just relax for a moment." "Hmm, I can hear it from here. It's nice." A soft number started to play, and people passing by the window cast shadows into the courtyard. He leaned his head against mine. Minutes passed by, and the song changed, both of us just settling our nerves. "So, I guess we won't have the last dance together this year." I hummed, the thought burning at the back of my mind. "I can't go back in there like this." I forced myself to laugh, trying to get it off my chest without sounding too sad. "We don't have to go back in. Elzer can handle the end of the night speech for me, like every year." Diluc stood, reaching his hand out to me. "Milady, may I have this dance?" "Diluc…of course, you may." I pushed my insecurities down and gripped his rough hand. Being wealthy, Diluc had been trained in many different types of formal ballroom dances. When he was in the zone, there was no one but Kaeya who could match his prowess and aura. But I wasn't blessed with the same background. I was just the daughter of the maid, and while my mother was paid well, there wasn't enough money to pay for a dance instructor. However, Diluc taught me everything he knew. We use to spend hours after his class, practicing and gliding around the living room. After some time, I even got to join the classes as Diluc and Kaeya's partner. Creepus convinced my mother it was just good practice for the boys, but looking back, he just wanted me to get that experience as well. "You okay?" Diluc gently gripped my waist as I spun back into his arms. "Yes, I was just thinking about when you taught me how to dance." I closed the gap between us and started moving with the song. Diluc took charge after a few more movements, and I gave up trying to lead. It was always a fun game for us to try to take charge, but I normally gave in fairly fast. Every now and then, he'd let me lead, but I often stepped on his toes when I did.   The ground wasn't level as a dance floor, so it was easier to just follow Diluc. Since he took the first step, he was able to find the best footholds. When we did hit a small hump, we'd steady each other and share a small smile. It wasn't a seamless performance like when we were on solid ground, but it was fun. It also gave us a reason to cling tighter to each other. His broad chest was always so warm; there was nothing more pleasant than laying my head there and closing my eyes as we swayed under the moon. "That was always so much fun." Diluc spun me out, then back into his arms. "Father use to watch us practice, he never told me directly, but Elzer said it was one of his favorite memories." Diluc pressed his lips into a line, eyes turning back to the manor. "He always loved this event, but I can't help but hate it." "I'm not a fan of the crowds or the entitled guests. But I do enjoy dancing with you." I laid my head on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "It seems we only dance when this event rolls around. And I can't help but wish for more moments like this. So, while I understand your distaste, I do think Creepus had the right idea. This is a chance for all of us to come together do something we all loved…it just is hard to enjoy when other people are so entitled." "I feel the same way. Dancing with you, it's always my favorite part of the ball." We swayed back and forth in a tight embrace, the music fading out and our footwork growing sloppy. "There's been so much to do recently. I'm afraid I've neglected you." "Mother told me that as friends get older, drifting apart is normal… I'm just glad you're still here with me. No matter how short that time is." He hugged me tighter, inhaling a sharp breath. "Maybe friends do, but my feelings for you are much stronger than just friends." I gasped before I could stop myself. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the lighting bugs emerged just as the party started to close. This moment was very much real…but did he really just confess? "You want to be with me?" I slowly looked up, grabbing the sides of his suit. "As more than friends?" "I do." He pulled back a little, glancing at the ground. "How do you feel? Could you ever love me as more than a friend? I know it's selfish to ask that of you, given the dangers that follow my line of duty. But I can't deny myself any longer." "My heart is going to jump out of my chest, Luc." Grasping his hand, I pressed it to my wrist. He smiled, rubbing his thumb over my pulse. "I want to be yours, and you mine. To be honest, I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just thought you didn't return them." Heat climbed up my face, and I looked away to hide it. While his confession was so smooth, mine was energetic and messy. Why couldn't I keep it calm? "That settles it then." He stepped closer, our eyes locking and fingers lacing. "We'll be together from here on out." A warm breeze went by, picking up the bottom of my ruined skirt. "Next time there's a dance, you won't have to leave my side, nor I yours. There will be no flying wine glasses or uncouth guests. We can dance the night away without worry or interruption." "I don't know if a party could ever go that smoothly." I pushed his hair back and cupped his face. "Unless we barred over half the guest list." "If you don't think I'd do that, then you underestimate how far I'll go to make you happy." His checks tined red, barely illuminated by the moon. "Oh, I don't doubt you, Master Diluc. But I'm not hard to please, we could dance in the living room like we use to, and I'd be the happiest person alive." I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his hips, and swaying to an imaginary beat. "It's not often you add my title before my name." He hummed, letting me lead us to the song in my head. "Master Diluc, whatever do you mean?" I batted my eyelashes and snickered. "I didn't realize I added it. Maybe it's where I've spent most of the night talking about you, and not to you that I've forgotten how to be relaxed. There was many a guest who wanted to pry about your love life." "Well, you have a definitive answer now, Lady Amber." He kissed the top of my head, stopping for a moment. His body radiated a wave of heat, and he nodded to himself. "It's starting to get cold. We should head inside before you catch a cold. I'm sure everyone's left by now." "I don't want this moment to end." I clung to his shirt, the warmth he emitted making my eyelids grow heavy. Whenever he allowed me to use him as a personal heater, I took the chance. But this was the first time I didn't worry about it being the last.   "We have many more moments like this ahead of us." He supported me as we walked towards the mansion, looping his arm around my waist. "Let's go clean up, and turn in for the night. Tomorrow we can have breakfast and go for a ride along the river. How does that sound?" "It sounds so nice." Once we were back in the house, Elzer met us in the doorway. "Where have you been, Master Diluc?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at me. "And you, Ms. Amber, what were you thinking tossing your drink? You completely ruined the night. I could hardly contain the guests" Diluc wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and Elzer's tone sifted from miffed to muted. "Elzer, the issue was with the guests, not Amber." He steered me towards the stairs, nudging me along. "Go on to bed. I'll be up there in a moment. I have some business to finish up." Diluc walked towards his office, motioning for Elzer to follow him. Elzer shot me a perplexed look and tried to mouth out, 'be more careful' before hurrying after Diluc. I whisper back, "okay," before taking the stairs two at a time before stopping. I wasn't going to get in trouble, so I might as well show I'm not ashamed. "Goodnight Elzer," I called after the older man, with as "pleasant" of a tone as I could muster. Parties almost always stressed him more than Diluc, but since Elzer was an employee, he couldn't run and hide like Luc. Truth be known, if Diluc hadn't been there, I would have gotten a long lecture on the importance of keeping good relations with potential business partners. But that's only because Elzer couldn't let his frustrations out on anyone else. I was always there to listen and receive his distain when things went wrong. It wasn't my favorite pastime, but it did help him feel better. It was surprising he was so stressed, he actually chastised me in front of Diluc. It must have been a tough night even after I left. I usually was lectured in private, but he really was ready to let me have it.   Once in the guest room, I disrobed. The heavy gown took several minutes to untie and loosen the laces, but once it was done, my lungs could fully expand. My ribs ached, so I rubbed circles on my sides till the initial throb dulled. The night had gone better than I ever planned, and now it was over. Yet, there was a worse throb in my chest than the pain of a corset. Diluc and I were finally together. We removed the ever-lingering question and just confessed. Why did it hurt inside? Was it that the party was hard on everyone else and I was so happy? Or was it something else? Tilling the blue pitcher on the nightstand, water rushed into the ornate basin below. Dipping a rag into the cool water, I began to wash the wine from my face. It had been such a stressful night. Perhaps the empty feeling inside was fear of the unknown. Or fear that Diluc would wake up and change his mind. That he'd send me away for good once he realized he could never be with someone of such low status. Someone who didn't couldn't even keep up public appearance at a ball. Maybe, it would just take me slipping up once when I was wearing a mask? Then he'd send me away from the manor. I finished cleaning up, then tossed the water out the window. Fixing the pitcher and basin back in place, I reached below the nightstand and pulled out my nightgown. Slipping on the flowy gown, I turned down my sheets and got comfortable. This guest room had been mine for as long as I could remember. While I still lived in the cottage by the river with my mother, I spent more nights at the mansion than at home. Diluc and I would rush through his paperwork every night, and I'd help get his gear ready to go protect Mondstat. I was his sidekick in many ways. Spending so much time there at night, it just made sense for me to sleep here too. We were a great team. Plus, the close proximity made things easier and less suspicious… But that wasn't the whole truth. It was more so that my mother had met someone new, and he had moved into our shared home. He was a nice man, a retired Knight of Favonius, but I just couldn't relax around him. He was stern about me not going out after dark, so staying over at the mansion became more and more frequent. Which was better for mom and Mr.Godfrey's partnership. But while I spent more nights away, mom started to believe there was something between Diluc and me, so she was happy to see me leave home. She was going to be overjoyed to hear the news that we confessed. Though, I'm sure she'll say kicking me out was the reason we finally admitted our feelings, which was not the whole truth. Still, I did miss my own bed sometimes. Pressing my back to the headboard, I curled my knees up and rested my head between them. Sucking in a deep breath, small tears slipped past again. There was too much happening. I couldn't think about one thing for too long. So much good just happened. Why? Why was I thinking about the bad? A familiar rasp at the door rang through the room. "Come in." Wiping my eyes, I sat up and pulled the covers up to my neck. "You're crying again." He walked into the candlelight. I could tell he had cleaned up before coming to see me. He was wearing one of his loose puffy shirts and some cotton pants; his hair had been smoothed and pulled into a low ponytail, water dripping from the ends. It didn't matter what he wore. He always looked unbelievably handsome. "Was it Elzer? He knows it's not your fault. He was just worried about our trade deal." "There's just so much to think about. I can't let myself be happy." I rubbed my eyes again. "What if you realize I'm not good enough for you? Or what if my mother's partner treats you poorly because you quit the Knights? Then that couple, what if they stop working with you and it hurts the business because of me? No one is ever going to see me as anything more than a gold digger." My brain let loose, new concerns and problems being added to my mix. "I'm so negative right now, and I know you probably just want to be happy that we feel the same way…but- I'm so sorry. "He pulled back the covers and crawled in with me. Wrapping me in his arms, the blanket went over our heads, and Diluc settled down. "There you go, having to comfort me like a child." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You sure you could learn to love a mess like me?" "I already love you." He rubbed patterns on my back, pressing a kiss to the lump on my forehead. "You've been like this since we were children, plagued with worries beyond your control. I know that after you let it out, you always feel better. And that the minute you go silent, that's when I really need to do some digging." He paused drawing on my back and instead moved to play with my hair. "We'll figure it all out as we go, all the what's and if's. We'll take them one at a time, starting with the one I have control over." "Woah." He flipped me over, hovering inches from my face. He pinned me between his legs, the v neck of his shirt hanging open so I could see the red hairs on his chest. "You could be from the richest family in Mondstat or poorest, and I'd still want to be with you." He kissed me, pressing down just until our bodies touched. "I'd go as far as to say, if you were a member of the Fatui, I'd still be smitten. I would certainly find a way to break your ties with them, but I couldn't stop loving you. So, you are more than enough for me, and if anyone makes you feel differently, then I will handle it." "That's a bold statement coming from you." I ran my fingers through his ponytail as it hung over his shoulder. "I can't argue with that logic, but I promise I'm not a member of the Fatui." I wrapped my arms around his waist, encouraging him to squish me with his full weight. "I'm going to crush you." He fought against me, but I only nuzzled his neck, blowing raspberries. "Amber, hey." "I know. But I'd also like to point out how improper it is for you to be in my room at this hour. So, I'd like to be crushed as repayment… please." I let go of one side of his hip and wiped my eyes. "You are right. It is improper." He lowered himself a little more but didn't fully lay on me. "A true gentlemen would never stay this late with a proper young lady. However, there is something else I want that's a little scandalous." "What could that be?" I gasped, my lungs not fully expanding as his weight sunk down on my chest. He noticed as he sat up to his previous position. "A kiss?" He moved his elbow up and cupped my face. His eyes glimmered with the flame that was lighting up the room. His touch was gentle but so firm I couldn't imagine being in another person's embrace. At that moment, there were only two people in the world, and I was madly in love with one of them.   "That sounds quite proper to me. You should always kiss your lover goodnight." I stuttered a little, unable to keep up the playful banter as I looked at his lips. The smile that spread on his face made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Archons, I was smitten.   His thumb brushed my lower lip before he brought his mouth down for a chaste kiss. Testing the waters, he hovered millimeters above me, and I stole his lips in a deeper kiss. Having a lack of experience in the field, I matched the pattern he set. Just like dancing, I tried to take the lead and failed miserably. So I did was I was best at, adding the fun flourishes. I curled my fingers into his hair and snaked my hand up his shirt and across his chest. He matched my movements, caressing my face and tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Every star in the sky dulled in comparison to the explosion of light that spread over my body. He shifted back, catching his breath. he smoothed my hair and peppered, kissing around my face before setting back. "Thank you." He laced our fingers together, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles.     "Will you stay tonight?" I took our intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles in return. "I don't want you to leave just yet." "As you wish." He got behind me, adjusting the covers we had tossed around earlier. "Now, let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." I laid my head on my pillow and scooted back until we were slotted against each other. His hand wrapped around my shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. "I love you." "I love you more." It took a while for all the blood pumping through my body to relax again, but once it did, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Dreams of dancing through the clouds with Diluc filled my head, and I had the best rest of my entire life. Next to the man I dearly loved.   

The End

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[boldlyanxious]

Still Trusting

Jasonette July 17: crime boss

Follow up to Tenuous Trust

My masterlist

Jason saw her not long after he entered. He had been invited as an olive branch after he gave up his plans of vengeance. He didn't know she would be here but the idea of seeing her would have helped him make his decision on whether or not to show up. Probably not the best reasoning for decision making but he wasn't exactly known for his good choices.

He didn't approach her though. To most she would seem carefree and happy but he could see her stance was tense and her eyes constantly checked for ways to escape. Instead he headed towards the drink table to get himself something to make the night easier. He wasn't ready to approach his family yet. It was probably the night he met her that gave his family hope that the Jason they once loved was still in there somewhere.

He wasn't ready to decide if that was true. It had been a long road from his days when he thought becoming Robin was the best day of his life. His thoughts on that varied. He was better off than he would have been on the street but the cost had been paid on his own blood. He was already committing pretty theft and then some before he met Batman but now he had been the man in charge. He spotted Tim first but neither of them were ready for that meeting so Jason turned and walked away while Tim glaced around for anyone else to greet.

Jason hadn't meant to approach Marinette but there she was nervously adjusting the straw in her drink while a man in a suit proved he wasn't as slick as he thought he was. She stepped back away from his hand reaching out for her arm. Jason couldn't hear her words from where he was but her polite rejection was clear as Jason continued approaching.

"Come on Sweetheart. Just one dance." He heard.

Marinette didn't quite step back quick enough to avoid his hand on her forearm. The man stepped between her and the rest of the crowd. Jason sped up when he saw her wild eyes, clearly darting around trying to find a way out of the situation. Jason arrived and addressed Marinette as if they already knew each other. They did in a sense, but she wouldn’t know that and he didn’t want to bring up their meeting. He took her hand and tugged it away from the grip of the other man.

“There you are; wait until you see who is here,” he said loud enough for others to hear before dropping his voice to a volume only loud enough for her. “Which way do you need to go? Is there someone you trust who could help you calm down?”

Marinette looked back up at him in shock. He let go of her hand as soon as she was walking with him and she used it to point in the direction he had seen Tim go. He might be seeing his little brother sooner than either of them had planned. It would be okay in public though. Tim would not want to cause a scene and Jason didn’t want that either. He was accepting the offer of peace but he didn’t know if he was ready to be a part of the family again so soon.

He wasn’t surprised when they arrived at the other side of the room and Dick and Tim were there already trying to talk about the boring things society people were bound to talk about at such events. Jason managed to keep his groan internal but he looked around for the best way to acquire another drink. Dick saw him first.

“Jason! And Marinette!” His eyebrows shot up along with his voice’s inquisitive tone. “Did you guys just get here?”

“I got here a few minutes ago. But I ended up talking to someone over by the drink table before this man offered to help me find you,” Marinette said.

Jason wasn’t sure whether he should mention the other man’s behavior. She seemed to be more worried about causing a scene than her own comfort. But if anyone would understand why she was on edge it would be the people right here and Bruce and Alfred, possibly a few others if she had talked about her experiences.

“He seemed like he was a little too insistent for your boundaries. I was happy to help and removing you from the situation seemed more helpful than hitting him.” Jason said. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“You haven’t even had an actual conversation yet. Don’t run off.” Dick said, then pointed. “Look, there is a drink tray. That is probably what you were leaving for anyway.”

Jason conceded with a nod. Dick turned around and officially introduced Marinette. They spent a few moments talking about her recent work with Wayne Enterprises and their plans for continued work together. Jason had intended most of the night to be him forcing himself to appear interested, but he suddenly found the need to try not to appear overly interested in everything about Marinette.

He couldn’t deny he was very interested in her but he doubted that they could be involved without it getting very complicated. He already knew about a dark period in her life that she likely rarely talked about and he should keep his past hidden from her. He watched her try to cover her blushing face when Dick and Tim continued to sing her praises. There is no way she would be interested in a crime boss or a reformed one after what she had been through..

Jason looked up as Bruce walked up. Dick and Tim had turned back to their earlier conversations and Marinette turned to greet Bruce. Jason really couldn’t get away without the awkward interaction that was about to happen, it felt oddly reminiscent of that night on the rooftop with the 3 of them. He wondered if Bruce felt the same way. Whatever he felt was quickly covered by his public mask. Jason was happy to see that Marinette seemed to have calmed down after her interaction. He shocked himself and everyone else at the next break in conversation by asking her to dance.

He hadn’t danced in many years but he always had some skill. He wouldn’t be able to tell her that his most recent experience was from the League of Assassins as a necessary deception and reconnaissance skill but she still seemed to be enjoying herself. He should be talking but he couldn’t think of what to say. He could feel her pressed against him and moving to the music and he lost all ability to make conversation. She didn’t seem to mind. Her face was completely serene and she didn’t seem to even realize he nor anyone else was there so he just let her have her moment.

After returning her to the group, he excused himself. It had been several years since he had been inside Wayne Manor. He couldn’t bring himself to wander through all the rooms he had known growing up. He might like to see Alfred in the kitchen but he would prefer not to pass by all the memories that haunted him. He chose instead to go to the garden. The air was much cooler out here than the warmth in the ballroom and there was a pleasant breeze. He passed by the benches and found a tree that he used to climb.

It had changed and was taller and wider now, much like him. He found some comfort in that. He sat and leaned against it and sighed as he closed his eyes. It was a few minutes before he heard someone approaching. He had expected someone to follow him out but he was surprised when she spoke after standing silent for a few minutes. He would have guessed Dick or that Bruce would send Alfred. He wondered if she had come to find him or if she had been sent as an emissary.

“It’s a nice night.” she said softly.

“It is. Shame the event is indoors.”

“I’m not sure it would be as nice if everyone was out here. I like the quiet.”

“True. Did you enjoy the party anyway?”

“Mostly. I don’t seem to have as much energy to be social for the whole night.”

“I feel the same. I always like to take a break and go back when everyone has enjoyed the party too much so I can laugh at them.”

He loved her laugh and that she felt relaxed enough to laugh.

“I’ve not seen you at any of the other events. I’ve been to several over the past few months.”

“I missed a few. But I think I might be at more of them in the future.”

“Since you’re not busy being a crime boss anymore.”

He looked up at her and she met his eyes and held his gaze. When he looked down she sat down against a different tree facing him.

“Did someone tell you or were you able to figure it out.”

“No one told me. ‘Jason’ was always talked about in hushed tones and there was always a long story that no one wanted to tell. But I recognized you. It took time for the things to connect. The look you had on your face when you helped me get away from the man earlier. But mostly I recognized your voice.”

“Usually that would be distorted. I wonder if Batman has that problem.”

“He would never admit it. But I wouldn’t do anything to give you or him away. You saved my life and he helped me stay safe after. I saw enough to know that the threats were very real.”

“They are both dead now and not a threat to you.”

She nodded rather than responding and then they sat in silence again for several minutes before she spoke again.

“How did it happen?” she asked. “The story no one wants to tell. Will you tell me?”

He paused before responding. But then he started from the beginning and told her the whole story from his initial meeting with Batman as a child to his death and resurrection and finally his time as a crime boss. She listened mostly in silence except for a few reactions and utterances to help him. He hadn’t even realized she had moved so close to him. She was holding his hand when he finished. He looked back into her eyes and she was looking at him with such understanding. He used his other hand to brush her wisps of hair away from her temple. He was surprised when she responded by leaning forward and kissing him.

He didn’t want to question whether that was the right response or why she had done it. He just leaned into her and enjoyed it when she didn’t stop with the simple brush of their lips. He hoped she wouldn't regret the impulse and wished it could continue longer but they could hear someone approaching so they pulled away. Jason stood and held out his hand to help her to her feet and he was surprised she didn’t immediately pull her hand back. So they walked back into the ballroom with Dick and got their opportunity to laugh at all the people who had dissolved their inhibitions with too much champagne. She was laughing beside him and he was happy that it was with him.

Taglist

@jasonette-july-event | @theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @trippingovermyfeet | @tbehartoo | @adrestar | @zynna

[renjunbae]

resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you’d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

thanks for reading! send an ask or comment to be in taglist for upcoming chapters!

[musicallisto]

⚔ — 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥; (tyrion lannister x f!reader)

@multifandomfix​​ requested: Hey, for your start of the year event, could I get #44 with Tyrion Lannister, please? Thanks in advance if you end up choosing it. I hope 2021 will be a great year for you. 😊

song: bazzi - beautiful | 𝄞

summary: How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywin’s revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?

author notes: I ain’t never seen a fluffy one-shot written by me, always half of it gotta be depressing

word count: 2.7k (what the HELL)

warnings: language + the typical stuff that’s commonplace in GoT

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 younger, young enough to hear her speak freely around you, you’d often heard the illustrious Cersei Lannister, blessed may her reign be, mutter her implacable adage through slit eyes and arrogant teeth; in Westeros, when one played the game of thrones, they were either crowned or buried. Some win and some die, she’d state with a smug grin, ignoring Jaime rolling his eyes right by her. You would always nod in silence; partly because you, lesser Lady of King’s Landing, certainly did not dare to contradict your most redoubtable playmate; but also because, deep down, you believed in her truths. You’d seen it when your father came back from his battles, commanding the Crown’s armies across the Southern seas, or when you heard the whispers at Court of yet another fallen Lord who believed he could play with fire like the Targaryens; there was little more than victors and vanquished, and you, as a lady-in-waiting to the future Queen, could sleep easy at night knowing you were on the right side of the world.

Yet when the rebellion led by your father’s army of mutineers was crushed by the King’s forces, when your brothers all fled into exile across the continent; when your title, name, and lands became those of a traitor to the Crown; you understood that in the game of thrones, death was the only blessing the powerful bestowed when they were clement; for there was far crueler and harrowing a punishment than torture: humiliation and servitude.

King Robert Baratheon, his mercy guided by Tywin Lannister’s murmurs, decided against sending you to death as he would have any of your brothers, despite the abject crimes your name now carried. In all his bonhomie, he had made you a servant of his wife instead, perpetually condemned to following the Lannisters around and never quite catching up to them.

“Why did the King spare my life?” you had asked Jaime one time, in hushed tones, aware that a servant caught talking to the Kingslayer with such familiarity would cause quite the scandal.

“Probably because he knows you were always a dear friend to Cersei and me.”

That was Jaime, as always; believing what he wanted to believe, and damned would be the one who’d change his mind. And to think he still thought, with a disconcerting assurance, that Cersei and you were still dear friends...

You hadn’t asked her why you were still alive. You knew she’d eye you for a moment, then order you to fetch her some water. She savored the sight of you in rugged clothes and immensely exhausted.

The only one who knew was Tyrion.

He always knew everything.

Even more so when it was about you.

“Why did the King spare my life?” you had asked him one evening, in the quiet banquet hall, only illuminated by flickering candles. He had looked up from his chalice of wine and at you, clearing the last dishes from the grand supper, and he swore his heart ruptured. He loved nothing more than staying absurdly late after dinner so he could catch you alone, but when your misty eyes, still too pure and bright for a world so cold, asked such unfathomable questions...

“I don’t know,” he had muttered casually.

Neither of you believed it. There was nothing Tyrion didn’t know.

But how could he tell you it was Tywin’s sick little pleasure, to keep you in chains at an arm’s length from him, from his embarrassment of a son? How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywin’s revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?

“Sometimes I wish he had not,” you had confessed with this outrageous beauty of yours, chin up and prosody of a dame despite the greasy plates in your elegant hands.

Tyrion had bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood. You were not the King’s prisoner, nor the castle’s, nor your family name’s; you were his, and he loved you so ardently, beyond all the words he knew, that he was utterly paralyzed.

The wine and hall were long cold by the time he went to sleep that night.

The following days, inexplicably, Tyrion was the first of the family to retire to his quarters after dinner. A pang of sullenness stung your throat when you brought the usual wine cup to an empty chair. Never before had he gone to bed without wishing you goodnight. Not since the night, so many years before, when you had run out on Cersei and Jaime to stay with their boring and lame little brother and talk the night away with his electric soul...

“Why didn’t Tyrion wait for you?” Jaime had whispered into your ear as you leaned over to pour him more wine.

You froze, almost long enough for Cersei to flair your discomfort. That was Jaime, as always; surprisingly perceptive when he allowed himself to be...

“I don’t know.”

You and Tyrion were so alike. You had the same inflection in the voice when you admitted to not knowing something... frustration and defeat.

“Maybe he’s not feeling well. You should check on him.”

“I’m certain he is f—”

“Y/N, go tend to my brother, please,” he cut, his voice a little louder.

You stopped, looking at Jaime, strong and tall and almost imperturbable. You were a servant of the Lannisters, but Jaime rarely bossed you around. You looked deep into his eyes, looking for a hint, a glimpse... and found it; a remnant of the boy you once knew, the childhood friend you sparred with wooden swords with. The boy with mischief and connivance.

“Yes, of course, my Lord.”

Your footsteps already echoed in the somber halls when you remembered you hadn’t even brought the wine pitcher back to the kitchens.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Tyrion’s closed door. Years before, you had run up and down all the castle halls in search of passageways and hiding spots with a giggling Cersei on tow; yet you had never felt as lost and out of place as you did then, knuckles hovering over the wooden panel.

“Lord Tyrion, your brother asks to see you,” you called in one breath after knocking sharply. Calling the twins by their titles was disturbing enough to you; but Tyrion, brilliant and dedicated Tyrion, Tyrion you'd find reading hidden in the library and who'd blush when you asked him what his book was about—Tyrion, a Lord of Casterly Rock?

“No, he does not.”

There was nothing he didn't know. Especially when it came to his brother... and you.

“I...,” you sighed, at a loss for words. So many untold truths jostled in your throat, none eloquent enough for his bright soul. “He insisted I check up on you, sir.”

“Well I'm fine, am I not? You can go now.”

His words echoed in your skull with the strength of a thousand storms. Taking a shaky breath, you prepared to turn around and leave him... but a sudden force rumbled deep in you like a menacing earthquake. You might have been stripped of your lands and rights, you might bear the name of a traitor and a criminal, but he had been a general before he was a corpse and you had been an eldest daughter before you were a plaything. Your foot grazed the door, almost with too much violence, when you turned to face it.

“Truth be told, I wanted to check up on you as well, and to tell you that I’m bewildered at your recent behavior towards me, and that I don’t think I have done anything to deserve this shift in your attitude, and that I esteem you dearly and dared to hope that it was the same for you, and that I am frankly hurt by your sudden coldness, and that if you will not deign to tell me whatever is happening, then I will merely wish you a pleasant night and disturb you no further. Sir.”

Catching your breath, you turned on your heels before you could regret any of the words you’d just said. It would be a miracle if Tyrion managed to catch any of them clearly with how fast you had hammered them; let alone answer to them... yet as you were about to leave, the door was unbolted, and there stood a seemingly somber and preoccupied Tyrion.

“Come on in. And please, we’re alone. Don’t give me any of that “sir” crap, I know you hate it.”

And like so many times, so many years before, you stepped into Tyrion’s quarters like inside a forbidden dungeon, but it all seemed twice as small and dark as it did when you were reckless children.

The both of you remained silent for long moments, even after he had motioned for you to take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of his bed; the shadows from the fireplace projected onto his face made Tyrion’s unmoving silhouette all the more unreadable.

“Is it something I’ve done?”

“Do you wish to know why the King didn’t have your head when your father rebelled? Well — why my father didn’t?”

Your eyes widened for a split second, but your irritation barely subsided. For some reason, despite your never-ending quest for answers, the subject of your family’s treason and fate always prompted you to defensiveness when it was mentioned by others... especially by your best friend. The one who knew too much.

“What does this have to do with anything, Tyrion?”

“Everything, Y/N. It has to do with everything.”

“Enlighten me, then. You always know better than everyone else.”

Tyrion took a deep, interminable breath before continuing. It was only then that you noticed how shaky his hands were; for the first time, you read a disconcerting uncertainty on his face.

“My father knows humiliation is far worse than death, especially among Lords... and he knows how to take the most pleasant acts of revenge on his enemies. Your last name... and myself.”

You kept quiet. The puzzle was starting to piece itself together, spurred by Tyrion’s voice, low and even, albeit a little unsteady — as though the charred logs and crackling fire were confiding in you themselves...

“He’s known you since you were an infant. You were always proud and righteous, a proper Lady and a treasure to your name, but still pure and kind... all the traits I adored in you when I first met you. He knew nothing would hurt you more than stripping you of everything you had - status, respect, poise, and dignity... and your friends. He’s burying your family’s legacy under grime and filth and savoring every second of it...”

His words became progressively spaced, as though he was choosing them carefully. You hadn’t yet noticed your own hands were shaking now, too.

“And he can screw me over as well. Any chance he gets, he takes.”

His shoulders were solid and unmoving, but his words came in ragged breaths and laborious swallowing. He took a step forward, finally breaking free from the backlighting of the fireplace; his eyes were fixated on you, resolute and, despite the nervousness, more tender than ever. You remembered the expression all too well; it was the one he had worn all through the night you had talked until daylight about anything and everything... and seeing the enamored child in the man before you, you started to understand it all.

“He’s always known how much I care about you. How your presence never fails to lighten my mood and ease my worries, or how I’ve always looked for excuses to talk to you alone and catch your eye at supper. Most of all, how you’ve always given me exactly what I wanted... a chance. And he always thought it was the ultimate example of my weakness. To kick you around like an animal when I can’t do anything about it and know it’s all partly because of me is his favorite game...”

You clasped your hands together on your lap to curb your agitation. He had taken another step towards you, and you couldn’t break away from his gaze. Each of his features held more love than you’d ever known; more than when your father would ruffle your hair, or when you’d share your family tart with your brothers and smeared all the jam on their cheeks; and you couldn’t fathom how long it had taken you to discover this warm and fuzzy feeling you got whenever Tyrion was around had a simple name: home.

“Tyrion,” you spoke before the tears invaded your eyes. “Are you saying you fancy me?”

“Ah, to hell with it.”

Eyes entirely bathed in light now, he responded almost immediately and clearer than before.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N, and that I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I first thought that I only liked your company, and admired your grace — that you were just the sister I wish I’d had, but I’ve had to face the fact that your face and voice set me afire in a way that nothing else can. I’m light and naive when you’re around... and you make me believe I have the strength they all won’t stop blabbering about. But I thought that if I could convince my father I saw nothing more in you than a whore like all the others, he would maybe let you go... maybe set you free.”

And the last confession seemed to hurt him more than everything else he had admitted that night, because it cut him right in his pride.

“I was wrong.”

An impossible soreness had taken over your throat during Tyrion's tirade, leaving you struck and mute. For a few seconds, all you could hear was the gentle hooting of the wind outside and the rapid and disjointed thumping of your heart... when you spoke eventually, it was but a hoarse whisper.

“All these years...”

“Yes.”

“And all those girls I had to see you with...”

“None of them mattered. None of them were you.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Tyrion?”

“Why would I?” he puffed with an acerbic laugh, gesturing at his frame, his scars, his cynicism and selfishness, and his wit and brilliant mind and feverish eloquence and golden eyes...

And suddenly your father's voice echoed in your head, unmistakable yet so distant, as he had spoken to you one day when you were little; he had said that angels existed in this world, closer than one might expect, and more often than not they took on unexpected forms, but once could always recognize them as they were the shiniest forces in the world around when everything was grim and black.

Maybe it was the dim lighting of the fire and moonlight that cast abstract shadows on the walls, or maybe your eyes and heart playing tricks on you, but you swore Tyrion was veiled by a pulsating halo, gold and black, that got even more radiant as he half-smiled.

When you leaned over and kissed him, you did not doubt that he truly was the angel your family tales had told you about, and maybe the only remaining angel in Westeros — because kissing him was like every star in the sky falling into place and forming new constellations, and when he grabbed your face to deepen the kiss, you were certain you felt his wings rustle.

“You have the most beautiful soul in this damn city, Tyrion,” you breathed when you finally pulled back.

Had he always looked at you with this unshakeable air of triumph and delight, or was it another trick of the light?

“If you knew how long I've waited to tell you how beautiful you are...”

“Tell me. Over and over.”

There was a smile on his face, the first genuine and devilishly charming one you'd seen in weeks when he stepped back and closed the velvet curtains.

He told you all night.

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee ​ @softeninglooks ​(all my writing)

[justthehiddleswrites]

All Dressed Up | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: You and Tom have been a relationship for some time. While it used to feel exciting and fun, now feels like you two are stuck in a rut. You decide that Tom's wardrobe needs an upgrade. But will he appreciate your effort?

Warnings: maybe implied smut

-

“I think Tom and I’s relationship is getting stale,” you complained while you stirred your coffee.

Your best friend stared from across the table in some state of disbelief.

“I don’t buy that,” she replied, “the two of you are always trying new things.”

You grumbled as you picked at the blueberry scone on the plate. You let the crumbs coat your fingers as you thought about the first year of your relationship with Tom. The start had been thrilling and adventurous. The two of you had met at a BAFTA event. Tom looked devastatingly handsome in his single-breasted tux. The beginnings of his now full beard just starting to show themselves.

The two of you had wined and dined those first several months, whether at restaurants or at your respective homes. But all that faded into the background, once you moved in with Tom. Fancy suits and pretty dresses had given way to threadbare shirts and workout clothes.  “Well, I think the honeymoon phase is over. Most nights are TV on the couch and snoring in the bedroom. He doesn’t even try anymore.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well… when we first got together, we both put such effort in our appearance. But now, I’m lucky if he is wearing pants without holes in them!”

“Maybe he is trying to tell you something,” your friend replied with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, that he needs new clothes! I swear Tom will wear something into the ground and just wish he would put more of an effort sometimes. it is like I am dating a hobo and not a world class actor.”

“Trying telling him that.”

Your eyes lit up as an idea popped into your head.

“I have an even better idea!”

You paid the bill as you said your goodbyes. Your best friend noticed that glint in your eyes. Your ideas rarely worked out. She just hoped you didn’t anything too stupid or crazy. But there was no use in trying to stop you.

***

As soon as you got home, you rushed into your shared closet. Instead of telling Tom you wanted he dress nicer, you thought you just show him. Tom was out of town for a few days, completing some reshoots on his most recent project. Just enough time to put your plan into action. First off, you grabbed all the jeans from his side, throwing them on the bed. Carefully examining each pair, you threw out any pairs with any holes. That left about three pairs. You repeated the process with his sweaters and shirts.

Once done,  you turned to the dresser. The workout clothes were the worst. Nearly everything had stains, holes, or rips. There was only one outfit worth keeping. You realized you would need to replace much of Tom’s wardrobe. But first you needed to get rid of the old clothes to prevent their re-entry into Tom’s wardrobe rotation. It took several bags and three trips to the dumpster.  Just as you shut the door, the phone rang.  It was Tom.  

“Hello, honey!”

“Hello, darling. You sound out of breath. What on earth are you doing?”

You panicked. You would rather not tell Tom your plans just yet for fear he would make you fish the clothes out of the bin.

“Just some spring cleaning. Just wanted the place to look nice when you get back.”

“That’s unnecessary, darling, but I appreciate the thought. I love our home as long as you are in it.”

You winced as the sweet words came from his mouth. Should you go through this? Maybe you should just talk to him? You thought about digging out his clothes.

“Darling? You okay?”

Tom’s voice snapped you out of your mental quandary and back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Hey, I was thinking about picking up some new clothes. Just to replace some worn-out things. Need anything?”

Tom contemplated a moment before responding.

“Not that I can think of. But have fun and don’t forget to pick out a dress for Ben’s party on Saturday. Shit! You had forgotten about Benedict and Sophie’s party. You can’t remember the occasion, but the dress code was cocktail wear. Your worry melted away into joy. This would be the perfect time to make your point.

“Thank you for reminding me. I think I will pick out something new.”

The two of you said your goodbyes and hung up the phone and wiped sweat from your brow, not sure if it was from the physical exertion or the act of lying to Tom. Convincing yourself the lie was for the best, you set off to finish your tasks.

***

You spent most of the next day in stores. First up was Nike, where you dropped what felt like a small fortune replacing Tom’s jogging attire. All black naturally. Now if you just get him to stop layering all at once in the winter. You hit up John Smedley and picked up two new sweater, one blue and one blue-gray. It was a new color for Tom, but you thought it would bring out his eyes. Not like he needed any help.

You scoured the shops for the perfect dress for Saturday; you finally found it at Coast. It was low cut but tasteful and the color complemented your skin tone and eye color. If this didn’t get the blood flowing, you didn’t know what would. You lugged all the purchases and set out putting it all away. You had just clipped the last tag and folded the last shirt when you discovered a key turning in the lock.

“Tom!”

You rushed down the hall and took a running leap at him. Tom dropped his bag just in time to catch you as you slid across the floor into his arms. He steadied the two of you before clasping your face and pulling you into a deep kiss.

“I have missed you,” he breathed as the two of you parted.

“I missed you too,” you replied, and you pecked his lips again.

Tom headed up to the bedroom to unpack, while you headed to the kitchen to start on supper.

“Darling!”

You heard Tom call to you across the house. His voice sounded neither happy nor mad but there was a tone of concern. You shuffled up to the bedroom to face the conversation you had been dreading. You arrived to see Tom staring into a drawer.

“What is all this?”

“Workout clothes,” you quipped back, ignoring the real question.

“I noticed. What happened to the old ones? Like my Nike sweatshirt and shorts.”

“I replaced them. With the same stuff. Just without the holes and stains.”

You avoided eye contact.

“But I liked the old ones.”

You could pick up an edge when he said liked. You may have miscalculated his attachment to the old clothes. Too late to go back, you trudged forward into what was looking now like an argument.

“I know but they looked so ratty so I threw them out,” you mumbled as you headed into the closet, hoping he wouldn’t hear or notice your words.

How wrong you were.

“You.. WHAT?!?”

Tom appeared at the door of the closet. His nostrils flared and a crimson color reached up his neck. You thought to cower, but you screwed up your courage.

“I. Threw. Them. Out.”

You enunciated each word, putting emphasis.

“Why in the hell would you do that? They were perfectly suitable clothes. You had no right to get rid of them!”

“They were not perfectly suitable! They were holey and ripped. You looked like a hobo! I’m tired of thinking like I am dating a homeless drug addict. I’m dating Tom fucking Hiddleston! You are better than this!”

“I either dress like I’m going to a red carpet event or like a homeless drug addict, there’s no in between!”

“Well, if I have to choose, I would rather take the red carpet! I think you don’t care anymore and where does that leave us?!” As soon as the words left your mouth, you collapsed into tears. You had never said it or even thought it, but it was true. If Tom didn’t think you were the effort to dress up, then perhaps your relationship was on its last legs. And the thought of your world without Tom in it was too hard to bear.

Tom’s expression softened and his anger turned to concern.

“Darling…” he started with hesitation. “What does my clothes have to do with our relationship? They are just clothes. And if you have seen any paparazzi photos, you would know I perfected the ‘homeless drug addict’ look years before I met you. But my feelings have and never will change.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“Except that I feel like I will hate my credit card bill next month,” Tom quipped as he gestured at the new clothes hanging in the closet.

You started laughing, and he stepped forward to envelope you in a hug. The two of you embraced and kissed. Tom held you out at arm’s length.

“Now why don’t you show my some of these new purchases? See what kind of damage you have wrecked before I send someone to go digging through the trash.”

With glee and pride, you took Tom around to show him each purchase, explaining your reasoning for each. Tom nodded and made the odd comment, but mostly was silent. You pointed out all the items you kept, including his well-worn gray boots.

“So…” you asked, turning your head as though preparing for a blow.

“I think…” Tom ran his hands through his beard in contemplation. “You put a lot of thought and effort in this. Thank you.”

With that, he kissed your forehead and headed back out to finish unpacking.

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. I appreciate your effort and I love you for it.”

What a letdown, you thought as you left to return to the kitchen to finish dinner. You had expected more, but you were happy he was not still angry. As you finished up dinner, Tom’s favorite, and called him down to dinner. He came into the room, hands behind his back.

“It looks lovely, darling.”

“Your favorite.”

“I noticed. I also noticed that with your little clean out, we have more space in the closet.”

You cast your eyes downward.

“Yeah. I might have gotten a little overzealous. Sorry.”

You sniffled as you could feel tears threatening to reappear.

“Well, it is just as well because your new dress will take up a lot of space and my clothes as well.”

You put your utensils down, confused.

“I don’t understand. I already have my new dress for Saturday. You saw the bag hanging in the closet.”

“I don’t mean that one.”

With that, Tom slid a small red box onto your place setting. There was no stopping the tears now. With trembling fingers, Tom opened the box to reveal a beautiful solitaire ring.

“The plan was to do this on Saturday at Ben and Sophie’s but they will just have to deal with the disappointment. Y/N,” Tom kneeled down. “Despite your itchy trigger finger when it comes to my wardrobe, I love you with all my heart. And I can think of nothing I would want more than you as my bride. Will you marry me?”

You nodded your head as words failed you.

“Is that a yes?” Tom teased.

“Yes, you idiot! Of course, I will marry you.”

You throw your arms around his neck and he lifted you in a deep embrace. Tom lowered you so he could place the ring on your finger. A perfect fit. You stood there admiring your new hardware, and then you felt Tom nuzzle against your neck.

“What do you say we go to the room and celebrate properly?”

Tom swept you off your feet, literally, and carried you into the bedroom for some proper celebrating.

***

The following morning, you lie awake in bedroom admiring the ring in the light. It was a dream. You feel the rough scratch of whiskers on your shoulder. You turned to see Tom, now awake, but just.

“Tom?”

“Hmm, yes?”

“Where were you hiding the ring?”

Tom’s mouth stretched in a Cheshire cat grin.

“Well, until this trip in my workout clothes drawer, but I was afraid you would find it, so I packed it with me. Looks like I was right.”

“I guess you were. How mad are Ben and Sophie going to be?”

“Furious, I’m sure but they will get over it once I ask Ben to be my best man.”

You giggled and thought about Benedict getting mad at Tom only to turn around and forgive moments later at the request of being Tom’s best man.

“I’m sure. And I will ask Sophie to let the kids be attendants.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan.” Tom got out of bed. “Now if you don’t mind, I am going to go for a run.”

You turned on your side as Tom got dressed. As he headed out, he leaned over to kiss you. You turned to see Tom wearing some very ratty jogging clothes. You shot up in bed.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Tom grinned and chuckled. “You forgot about my travel clothes, darling. And you will never get a hold of these.”

You lept out of bed and took chase after your fiance.

“Give those to me, Hiddleston!”

“Never!”

And with that, Tom slammed the door and headed for his daily jog while you sulked, staring at the front door.

[theheartsmistakes]

Any Other Name- Chapter 4

Smoke unfurled from the end of the cigarette hanging from James’s mouth as he rested his forearms on the bordering wall that lined the rooftop across the street from the London Institute where he used to call home. Ashes flickered in the placid breeze that drifted in from the North and mixed with the dusting of snow the gray sky had finally decided to release upon the wasteland that was SoHo.

The cold bit at his fingertips, exposed by his fingerless gloves as he took the last drag and then stamped the stub out on the bricks.

It was nearly five in the afternoon when they arrived; he’d been waiting on the roof across the street for nearly an hour when he finally saw the flash of red hair standing out like a beacon in the otherwise gray and dismal world. She stepped out from the cab with a black duffle bag in her hand, in an oversized jumper and bicycle shorts.

She had to be freezing, he thought, as he released the smoke from his lungs. The last time she came to London it was summertime. He remembered the time well. He’d just been expelled from the Academy and kept home from the summer trip to Egypt his friends and sister went on to see the infamous pyramid Institute there. It wasn’t his parent’s intention to keep him behind, but since a number of his academy peers would be attending the trip as well, it wasn’t advised that he be amongst them after the recent series of unfortunate events that led to his unjust expulsion. He wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t purposefully release a demon in the same room as Augustus Pounceby and Alastair Carstairs and their cadre of idiotic sycophants if given even the slightest chance.

Besides, he didn’t mind being left behind. He got to spend the summer catching up on his reading and training in the Institute’s gym. He’d nearly perfected throwing his blade directly into the target without looking when the Carstairs arrived for official Clave business. Their daughter, who was around the same age as Lucie, arrived with them. Cordelia wasn’t able to go on the Egypt trip either because of a training injury that left Cordelia on crutches and in a cast that wouldn’t be healed for several weeks. He couldn’t recall what happened, but he did remember that her ankle snapped in three different places and the Silent Brothers couldn’t mend it fully without her taking some time off of it. So, like him, she had been left behind. While his mother entertained Cordelia’s mother, she volunteered James to entertain Cordelia.

They spent the entire week she was there reading together while Cordelia rested her foot, sharing their favorite stories until hours into the night. She read to him passages of Layla and Majnun and he showed her all of his favorite parts of London from the top of a Mundane tourist bus. When the days would come to their end and they’d go off to their separate rooms, he found himself staying up at night craving the sound of her voice, the pitch of her laugh, the way her smile transformed her whole face and made his insides unfurl. He couldn’t stop his thoughts from finding their way back to her. One moment he would be reading Hemingway and the next he would be highlighting a passage to share with Cordelia. He’d be eating breakfast with his parents and find himself comparing the color to her hair. Each moment he was with her, it became more and more of a challenge not to give in to the overwhelming desire to kiss her.

He cursed himself for the better part of five years for not saying something to her before she left to go back to Tehran.

It may have been nothing more than a childhood crush at the time, but it flickered somewhere deep in his chest at the sight of her loose hair tumbling in the breeze as she looked up at the Institute.

“Daisy,” he whispered, the word curled in white smoke from his lips.

She turned to look over her shoulder towards him as if she’d heard his voice. He resisted the instinct to duck and instead held her gaze. From where he stood on the roof, he couldn’t make out her profile or even see if her lips were moving. There was no possible way that even if she did see a figure on the adjacent roof a few yards away, that she would recognize him. Still, he found himself holding his breath until she looked away again.

He watched as the Carstairs moved their things into his home with help by the very same Shadowhunters that voted him and his family out. Boxes filled with items his parents didn’t have time to collect before they were evicted from the estate were thrown out like trash to the curb.

“I don’t know why you choose to torture yourself in this way, Jamie boy,” said Matthew as he came up behind James and leaned his back against the railing. “It’s fucking freezing up here.”

James hadn’t heard Matthew come in through the roof door. He was still growing accustomed to the absence of intrinsically knowing when Matthew was near since their Parabatai runes had been destroyed.

“What can I say?” said James, leaning onto his forearms. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“And what have you done this time to deserve this self-assigned penance?” asked Matthew, kicking an empty beer can across the gravel. “And why was I not involved in the crime?”

“Thoughts of murder,” said James, “and revenge.”

“Nothing a few hail Angels and hours of demon hunting can’t forgive.” Matthew spun around and leaned on the railing beside James. “Ah, it’s move-in day. I should’ve known you be stalking the Institute like a starving crow.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Who?”

James nodded towards the Institute.

“The Carstairs girl?” Matthew pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket and stuck it between his lips. After a moment of fighting with his lighter, smoke drifted from the corner of his mouth. “Considering she’s only been here for all of seven minutes, no, I haven’t talked to her. Is she cute?”

James turned to glare at his friend. “How would I know?”

Matthew shrugged. “I just figure if you’re willing to freeze your balls off on the roof of this mundane hotel to watch her move into your old place then she must be cute. Didn’t the two of you have a short fling a few years back?”

“It wasn’t a fling.”

“Sorry,” said Matthew around a puff of smoke. “A relationship.”

“It wasn’t a fling nor was it a relationship,” said James laced with annoyance. “We spent a short summer together when you abandoned me to go to Egypt. We read books and I showed her around London.”

Matthew clutched his chest, right over his heart. “Please, James, spare me the intimate details.”

James gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Come off it. I haven’t seen her since we were children, I was just curious if you spoke to her and could tell me how she... seemed.”

Matthew’s pale eyebrows raised. “How she seemed?”

“Forget I asked.”

“No,” laughed Matthew. “Genuinely, I’m happy to see you pining after someone other than Grace Blackthorn.”

A flash of betrayal coursed through James at the mention of his ex-girlfriend’s name. He’d been in a fairly serious relationship with Grace (serious on his part, but rather noncommittal on her end) that ended abruptly when the Clave sided with Inquisitor Bridgestock in exiling the Herondale family. That very night Grace approached him outside the Institute in Idris and while hugging him, told him that her mother no longer thought it would be appropriate if they saw each other and then left.

He indeed pined for her for some time afterward. He got roaring drunk and sent her a series of fire messages that went unreciprocated and progressively turned to beg until Matthew took away his stele and paper until he was sober and could control himself. Not even a month later, Matthew told him that she started seeing Charles, Matthew’s brother from time to time. James went out and got himself so drunk that he passed out underneath a bridge like a deranged troll.

Grace had been his first real relationship. He’d taken other girls out before, and it was on a date that Grace approached him—or rather stole him—from his date and started snogging him in the back alley of the Devil’s Tavern. That was Grace’s way with him: stolen, secret moments that left him reeling and in desperate need of a cold shower.

But when he tried to hold her hand in public, she’d find a reason to move away from him. If she spoke to her within a group, she barely made eye contact with him. When they attended parties or went out, she insisted they arrive and leave separately. He never asked her why she wanted it that way; perhaps he knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.

He stayed with her because of tender moments when he felt the real Grace, his Grace, show herself. Like when they snuck out to Richmond Park and spent the night together lying on the grass, looking up at the stars, and talking about plans for their future. It hadn’t occurred to him then that none of her plans included him.

No, he’d long since stopped pining after Grace Blackthorn and wished for her demise with as much sincerity as he wished for the rest of those who exiled his family.

Matthew could be relentless in his teasing, so James made a quick attempt at changing the subject. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Matthew shoved his hand into his light blue corduroy jacket pocket and brought out a three-toothed brass key about the length of his pinkie finger and handed it over to James. “I need that back before my mother realizes it’s missing which shouldn’t be until Monday morning when she returns to her office, so make sure that you get whatever it is that you need done with it finished by tomorrow night.”

James clutched the key in his fist. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Shouldn’t?” Matthew blanched. “No, no, it won’t be a problem, because if it is a problem then my mother will take the blame for it. James, I need that key back by tomorrow night.”

James placed a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “I understand, Math. I will leave the key at your flat tomorrow morning underneath the ceramic dog on your porch.”

Matthew’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “I have your word?”

“Of course,” said James and pocketed the key. “Do you not trust me?”

“Yes, of course, I trust you,” insisted Matthew. “My family has just been under a fucking microscope since everything happened. I had to tell the Penhallow boy that I was going to the shops to pick out new underwear and the bastard trailed me all the way to the strip mall and only left when I started picking out briefs. I would be insulted by his assuming that I am lying if I weren’t so goddamn irritated.”

James tensed. “Are you sure no one tracked you here?”

“Yes,” said Matthew as he took another long drag of his cigarette, “I’m sure. In fact, I tracked Penhallow to the Institute where he is one of the volunteers helping to move the Carstairs family in.”

“You didn’t volunteer?” asked James.

A stream of smoke flowed from Matthew's nostrils. “God no, I may have mentioned assisting my mother on official Clave business regarding a demon possessed artifact in an abandoned warehouse on Bleeker Street, so that is where they all expect me to be. Thomas, I believe, volunteered or perhaps he was wrangled into the job by his parents. The boy hasn’t stopped growing since he turned thirteen and his voice dropped. He looks like a linebacker on one of those American football teams. He will come more in handy than I ever could.”

Nearly a month has gone by with no word from Thomas or Christopher since the exile. As hard as James tried to understand the position his closest friends were put in, he couldn’t stop the sharp pang of abandonment, no matter how desperately he tried to convince himself that it was not like that for them. If the tables were reversed and he had to decide whether to risk seeing his friends or protecting his own life and the life of his family, then he could understand the hesitation.

Still, the anger ripped at his logic. He missed his friends— more than anything else he’d been forced to leave behind, he missed his friends.

“Is there really a demon possessed artifact in a warehouse on Bleeker Street?”

Matthew flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “Yes, but it’s being dealt with by Anna and a few others. I told my mother I volunteered to help the Carstairs move. Everyone believes me to be in one place, when in fact, I’m actually here with you. As long as no one speaks to each other about my elegid whereabouts then they’ll all be none the wiser.”

“Clever,” said James, fiddling with the key in his pocket. “Thank you, for risking what you have to bring me what I needed. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Matthew shook his head and stepped away from the bordering wall. His trainers crunched against the gravel as he spun on his heels to face James. “I may have to appear to be obeying their rules, but that doesn’t mean that I agree with them and it doesn’t mean that I will allow them to win. My life is still very much my own and I still choose to have you in it. You’re more than my friend, you’re my brother, more than my own even. I’ve told you before Jamie, they can erase my rune, but they cannot erase my promise, I will honor our vows as parabatai until I meet my end and not before.”

James embraced his oldest friend, clutching him tight around the shoulders. “I feel the same.”

Matthew returned the embrace. “You’ll take care of yourself, yeah? You haven’t told me yet what you intend to do with that key and I’ve been trying to give you your space and not ask, but if I’m invited to your trial after they catch you, I will deny ever being involved.”

James released him. “But you just said…”

“No where in the vows does it say that I have to stand by you when you do something stupid that I clearly warned you against!”

“It’s implied,” said James.

“I only follow explicit instructions, not implied instructions,” said Matthew throwing his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his trainer before glancing at the watch around his wrist. “Shite, I’m going to be late. The Inquisitor saw fit to put a curfew on those of us who were affiliated with you. If I’m home even a minute after seven then I am forced into a meeting with both Bridgestock, Pounceby, and a witness to verify that I am being truthful about my whereabouts. Also, I’m supposed to pick up Christopher to help my father with one of his experiments on weapons infused with holy water.” Matthew’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t effect your demony issue, does it?”

James rolled his eyes. “No more than it effects yours.”

Matthew grinned as he slowly walked back towards the roof door. “My demons have far more expensive taste in poison, I’m afraid.” With that, he opened the roof door and disappeared leaving James staring over the edge as his life once again shifted into something he couldn’t recognize.

___________________________________________________

Whispers of the exiled Shadowhunters crawled through the streets of Hackney, one of London’s most dangerous boroughs and home to most Downworlders that had effectively been pushed out of the bigger, better boroughs by the Clave. Lined with crowded pubs and coffeehouses, and veined with dark and minacious alleys fraught with all manner of salacious activities, the whispers followed James around like his own shadow.

It’d taken him not even a week to develop a reputation in Hackney that allowed him to wander the streets unbothered, though it did involve a significant amount of blood on his hands and a few scars that couldn’t be healed fully with an iratze. Afterward, the whispers turned to warnings and rumors of his ruthlessness; those standing on the streets as he walked back averted their attention or moved out of his path. There were the occasional few that stepped out to challenge him from time to time, but he’d simply have to fling a blade within an inch of their skin and they’d let him pass.

James flipped one of his throwing knives between his fingers as he walked: a silent reminder to those around him of who he was and what he was capable of doing. It was an unnecessary safety measure, but a comfort all the same. The knives were the last remnants of being a Shadowhunter that he has left; now he lived amongst of the shadows he once hunted.

As he approached the great stone arch that marked the entrance to The Hell Ruelle, Hepatia Vex’s nightclub, without uttering a word, the burly guard stepped out his way and allowed James entry.

The place was packed with a mixture of mundanes gifted with the sight, Fae, Warlocks, Witches, Vampires, and Werewolves dancing in the strobing lights that swayed in the exposed rafters to the electronic music that pulsed throughout the building. James dodged dancing bodies until he reached one of the many ladders that went to the second level. The steel bars were warm underneath his palms and littered with glitter amongst other unmentionable things. Once on the second level, he went straight, passed the NO ACCESS signs that flickered above the doorway, and pushed aside the heavy curtain that kept patrons out. Once the curtain closed again, the music went nearly silent except he could still feel the beat of the dancers and music underneath his trainers.

He slipped silently down the hallway, scanning the shadows in the rafters above for any of Hepatia’s spies until he reached the rouge door at the end and knocked three times.

“Who is it?” asked a deep feminine voice.

“James Herondale,” he said and crossed his arms. “I’ve brought what you asked for and I’m ready to trade, that is if you still want to do business with—“

The door swung open and standing on the other side was not Hepatia Vex, as he has expected, but a half-naked girl with star-shaped nipple covers and a skirt that was nothing more than a belt with two long strips of fabric covering her front and back. Long, tanned hips and legs that James had a difficult time ignoring were laid bare and glistening in the dull lamplight. Her opulent eyes reflected like those of a cat as she smiled lasciviously at James.

“Come in, Herondale,” said a voice from within the darkroom.

James shouldered past the courtesan that may or may not have smelled him as he passed and walked towards the plush green sofa where Hepatia stretched out in a black leather skirt and white bralette that nearly glowed against her deep, rich skin tone. The room smelt heavy with magic laced with weed and sex.

Hypatia's eyes wandered lazily over James as she uncurled her hand towards him. “Where is it? Give it to me.”

“No until you give me what I asked for,” answered James and glanced over his shoulder at the courtesan. “And she needs to leave.”

Vex started at James for a moment, the corners of her full, sensuous mouth turned up at the corners until she swung her body into a seated position and crossed one leg over the other knee. “Why the secrecy? Afraid to tarnish your reputation… but wait, hasn’t that been done already?”

“I don’t need all of the boroughs to know my business,” said James, staring at Vex around the ends of the curls that had fallen into his face. He’d been told on countless occasions that a look from him set people on edge. Perhaps it was the color of his eyes or the intensity within them.

Whatever it was, it worked. “Leave us, Femi. Bring us back some refreshments.”

Without a word or much of a sound, Femi left out the door.

Vex bounced the foot resting in the air and drummed her long red-painted fingernails on the couch cushion as she continued to look James up and down. “You look thin. Life in the dirty Hub not treating you so nicely, little angel.”

“Don’t call me that,” snapped James.

“Why not?” grinned Vex, satisfied to have found a wound for which she could press. “Oh, is that not accurate anymore? Should I refer to you as, little demon, instead?”

“Do you want to make the trade or not?” James’s voice dropped into a low, miserable timber. “I have other business to attend to.”

“I’m sure you do,” said Vex as she stood up and walked around the couch towards the minibar at the back of the room. She waved her hand over the ceramic ice holder three times as flecks of red and magenta smoke uncurled from her fingers. The lid to the ice bucket shook until she took it off and removed what was inside.

She sauntered her way back to where James stood. Her cat-shaped eyes slid over him from brow to chest to hips and back up again. Her pupils dilated slightly. “My you’ve grown into a handsome young man, haven’t you?”

James resisted the urge to cross his arms or crumble under her stare.

“But then you’ve always been handsome.” Elongated incisors flashed as she grinned. “Something you inherited from your father.” She reached and grabbed James by the wrist-twisting his arm until his palm was flat and facing up. She dropped three bags of iridescent powder into his hand. “Now for the key.”

James pocketed the powder and retrieved the key. Hypatia snatched it from his hand and held it close to her chest. “Pleasure doing business with you, Herondale. You should go have a dance. You look like you need to unwind and there are other ways to do that without the use of those drugs. I can fall up Fima and show you one of my favorite ways.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I need to be going,” said James, but before he turned to leave he remembered his conversation with Matthew. “I’ll need that key back by tomorrow afternoon and no later. It’s important that I return it.”

Vex dropped the key into the ice bucket and replaced the lid. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I will have someone meet you at Blackfriar bridge.”

James nodded and turned to leave. As he reached for the door handle, Vex’s voice came from behind him.

“And James, if you ever find that you want a real job and not to sell magical drugs on the street, come and see me.”

James didn’t bother to turn around, he turned the handle and stepped out, with absolute surety that a business with Hypatia Vex was not one that he wanted any part in.

Walking out of The Hell Ruelle, James felt as if he could breathe freely again. The warm July night had the streets crowded with miscreants and the company of such, especially in Hackney. He skirted past couples doing more than just making out against the alley walls and avoided the gang of werewolves lighting dumpsters on fire outside of a liquor store and proceeded to howl mockingly at the moon.

He made his way down Briar Street towards the canal where his regular customers would be waiting for him to provide his recently acquired goods under the troll bridge where all manner of questionable deeds went on. He needed to be one of the first ones to get there or all of the most desperate would have bought from someone else.

As he passed an alley towards the end of the busy street, he heard the sound of a female voice coming from the alleyway. He wouldn’t have stopped if it hadn’t sounded so familiar.

He backed up several steps and looked down the alley. Three tall male Fae warriors stood in a row and over the middle one’s shoulder, James could see a flash of red hair, the curve of her face, and the golden hilt of a sword resting over her shoulder.

Something twisted in his gut as recognition overtook him. She looked different, older, beautiful.

“I don’t want to harm any of you.” There was a slight waver in her voice: fear and determination. “I’m here by accident and I’d like to leave without any unnecessary bloodshed. If you would kindly move, I will happily be on my way.”

The Fae warrior in the center removed two blades from the scabbards at his sides and glided them across each other so they made a spark. “I say we remove her clothes piece by piece and allow everyone in the Mill to look their fill of her nakedness.”

“She is a lovely thing,” said the Fae to his right. “Perhaps we could take turns with her and return her back to her people used.”

James’s blood boiled in his veins at the threat and he reached for the throwing knife tucked in his jacket pocket. He hadn’t answered the call in his blood in some time, fighting as a Shadowhunter was too painful. He preferred to get his knuckles bloody and his skin to split, but there wasn’t time for that now and it was far too kind of a punishment for the threat they made towards her.

Cordelia drew Cortana and positioned herself to fight. “You can try.”

“What will you do?” grinned the head Fae. “You’ll cut all three of us down by yourself with that little blade?”

He moved towards her again, but Cordelia stood firm. James couldn’t help but smile at her stony resolve. She would do it, he could see it in her eyes that she would not hesitate, but the bloodshed from either side would surely make waves in the water that his parents and several other Downworlders were trying to still.

James leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt her, Bevan. I’ve seen her take down men twice as skilled as you.”

As the three Fae men turned to look behind them, Cordelia lunged.

A/N:

Thanks for reading! Comments, like, and reblog are my primary motivation.

Next update: Fri, 6/25

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Fourteen: Forget)

← Chapter Thirteen

His homecoming wasn’t eventful, nor was it welcomed by the others of Trost. They came back in the night, a tenth of what they left with, and yet people were still up to throw things out the windows at the Scouts as they proceeded to their base. I wasn’t awake for that part, and Jonas thought it was best to not wake me. He told me the next morning that he’d locked eyes with Levi and he almost shrunk away from the window. Jonas thought the rage he saw was directed at his presence, and he was probably half right, but the other was just towards the world in general. 

He didn’t come into the cafe the next morning like he usually did. No. I was sure the Scouts would stay out of Trost for a while and their own safety. It never made sense to me though. The people of Trost would rejoice that the famine was over but in the same breath blame all hundred-some Scouts for not being able to protect millions of people. I held my tongue, giving the everlasting fake smile. There was no reason to fight anymore. They were home and most were safe. Levi was safe and in one piece and I would probably see him tonight. 

Five months after they left. 

Flowers were already growing out of the ground, and there was no need to wear a jacket anymore. Sometimes, I would go out and sit in the meadow facing the Scouts HQ, just like Levi and I had before. I would allow myself to sit and think clearly. Sometimes, I would sneak to the Scout HQ and feed the horses that were left behind for various injuries, evading the one Scout they left for the same reason. I’m sure the young boy knew I was there, but he seemed to not mind. I took feeding the horses off his daily to-do list. I wasn’t happy by any means, but after getting Jonas back, it made it easier to be alone with my thoughts. 

“You don’t need to stay tonight, Jonas,” I told him, putting the chairs up so he could sweep the floor. He gave me an annoyed look, but nodded, understanding why. 

“Just don’t forget about me even if he’s back,” it was a low whisper so he could try to hide the begging nature of it. I knew better than to let Jonas go this time. 

“Don’t worry. How could I forget about your ugly face?" His mouth went wide and I laughed. Before I could dodge, a wet rag flew at my head, narrowly missing me. 

That night, I sat on my couch reading some random book, waiting for a knock at the door. My heart was beating the whole time, and I couldn’t focus on the words I was trying to read. It had been so long since I’ve seen his face. Since I felt his touch. I wish I had some drawing to be able to look at his face instead of imagining him through his cursive or button-ups. Maybe I’d ask him to get one. There were random men who sat in the Trost city square and drew people for money. Maybe I would get him one of myself too, knowing that the small stitches on his cape wouldn’t last long. My mind was swirling with ideas, trying to keep it occupied. When the clock on the wall hit three in the morning, I was losing hope. In my hands now was the journal I’d faithfully written in for five months. It was the first thing I’d give to him, showing that I was still devoted despite the distance. Even if it was hard for him to read it, he told me to do it, and I did. Every single night I did. I wondered if he’d done something similar, but he probably wouldn’t want to share with me, nor recall the days he had outside of the walls. 

At eight in the morning, Jonas had let himself in after yelling up from the very full cafe. He saw me sleeping on the couch, the journal still in my arms, no indication that Levi had been there. When he woke me up, I could tell there was pity in his eyes. I shied away from it, going to get dressed to work. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He’d just gotten back and it was hard to get into Trost without ridicule. He’d come eventually. I already felt more at ease knowing that he was alive anyway. 

The next night, he didn’t come either. Then the next. Then the next. It turned into a week. Then another week. Every day, I would wake up and give him excuses. I would smile at Jonas and ask him how he slept. I would stare at his table in the cafe, now occupied by a different customer. Once the time kept ticking on, I knew that there wasn’t anything holding him back from coming. There wasn’t anything holding back from sending some letter or note with Erwin’s private service either. The only thing holding him back was himself, but I didn't want to come to that reality. How could someone who'd left me the way he did, lingering touches on my doorstep, not want to come back?

That’s how I ended up at the Scout HQ stables again. Their numbers had dwindled again, and by Levi’s past letters I knew when mandatory lunch service was. Again, I felt alone as the wind blew through my hair, yet this time I was staring Levi’s horse in the eyes. The horse that almost bit my head off. I could see she was injured, and I reached out to pet her nose, giving an apple I’d brought from the cafe. She seemed to be thankful for the offering and let me into her stable without a problem. I slipped the journal into a cubby with some riding supplies, hoping he’d see it sometime. Before leaving on Jonas’s horse, I glanced up at the windows of the abandoned castle, the sun reflecting in them enough to blind my eyes.

“Ma’am, what are you doing near the horses?” I looked down at the cadet who was left behind. He knew my face by now, but he seemed not afraid to confront me anymore. I raised one hand to him, the wind picking up around me, blowing my skirt up. 

“I’m just leaving. Don’t mind me.” He held his hand up, beaconing me not to leave before I could answer whatever questions he had. I didn’t hear what he was yelling at me as I rode back towards Trost. Hopefully, he would report that someone was near the stables and Levi would find my notebook. If anything, I wanted him to read that. If he saw how sad I was without him there, then maybe he would come back quicker. 

“It’s been how long?” Jonas asked as I returned his horse later that night. He taught me how to ride it a month ago, seeing how I could only use public transportation to get to Mitras, which took money and hours. While I was still unsettled getting on anyone’s horse, Jonas’s was nice to me and I fed it extra apples for good measure. I was doing that right now as he brushed her out. 

“Almost three weeks since they’ve come back.” He nodded and continued to brush, not pushing the obvious response. Jonas had gotten much better at that. He’d let me think when I needed to, and then only when I was getting beside myself he would jump in. There wasn’t any need to do that right now, and my mood had gotten more control over the past few weeks that he didn't need to do any intervention work recently. 

“It’s almost May Day. There are enough supplies to celebrate this year, so Trost is having a little festival to make up for Spring.” I pet the horse on her nose before hopping up on the stable’s door to sit. 

“Are you asking me to go drink with your friends since no one did it for the Equinox and now there’s an excuse?” He huffed once in laugher, trying to feign his innocence. 

“No, I was just going to ask you if you were free next week for no reason. Drinking? How dare we? We’re getting too old for that sort of stuff.” I smiled lightly down at him as he put away the horse’s brush to turn to face me. 

“Sure, I’ll go. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out.” A big smile broke out on his face when I agreed, and it seemed to carry all the way into next week. He would never stop reminding me that on Saturday, we would go to the festival to grab drinks and take them outside to the meadow near the walls. At one point, I had to bar him from talking for a few hours so I could get work done. When the day finally came and I closed the shop, he was bouncing off the walls watching all the people walk to the town square. 

“You know, usually we’re taking Elias and June to these types of things,” I reminded him and he just shrugged. June was probably working and Elias would be with his school friends running around. We’d probably see him on our way out of town. 

“When they turn eighteen, I’ll gladly take them for their first drunk meadow excursion. It’s a right of passage.” You rolled your eyes at him, remembering his first time puking at the base of a tree in the meadow. A right of passage, sure. 

Jonas’s friends were a rowdy bunch. They were that way in high school as well and never changed how many years out we were now. While you weren’t very much involved with them unless forced by Jonas, you knew the four of them well enough to be comfortable to drink with them. Two of them, Jonas’s roommates, brought girlfriends or girls they were trying to entertain with. Again, I didn’t know them all that well, but I’d be sure to ask Jonas as we walked behind the rest. 

It was refreshing to be out like this, as we walked past the Garrison to be let into Wall Rose. The atmosphere was up, some of the boys having already downed a few drinks, and everyone seemed happier than before. The news of millions of refugees dying didn’t affect them, so why did they have to feel sad about it? In moments like this, it made me think of my own existence and how selfish it was to do these sorts of things. We were exploiting the safety of Wall Rose to go and drink, not thinking at all about titans or a food shortage anymore. I wanted to apologize to the refugees whom I served previously, but they were undoubtedly all gone. 

“Hey,” Jonas nudged me, probably seeing my glazed-over expression, “Live in the moment?” He suggested as the wind picked up around us. The grass blew in the breeze, and we turned to walk against the wall. The meadow near the wall was only a few minutes walk, and near a village of farmers. One time, during a game of truth or dare, Jonas was dared to go pick a farmer's pumpkin, which ended up with him being chased a good half-mile from where we were original. The only person who waited for him to get back that night was me and we both got scolded for how late we had returned. Ben was also very suspicious of how dirty Jonas's pants had become and later he guilted me into telling him everything that happened, minus the underage drinking.

“I’ll try,” I told him, pushing away the thoughts I had before. Selfish. The refugees weren't able to separate their life from the certain death they were facing by the titans. They weren't able to go off and celebrate like we were. Imagine if Eren Jaeger could see me now. I could see the anger lighting up in his eyes knowing what we were doing. I looked out into the wild expanse of grass, knowing right where the Scout HQ would lie over the hills. What would Levi be doing right now? It was around dinner time for them if the breakdown of his schedule was still accurate. Would he approve of the activities I was about to indulge in? Probably not. 

“Eva,” Jonas said again, snapping me out of my thoughts once more. His expression was now concerned, but there were shouts as we reached the destination, those already buzzed excited to get even drunker. Laughter rippled through the air and the wind carried it further along the wall, echoing. It was a weird sound for me to hear, and I realized then how long it had been since I’d even left my sphere of influence. I’d been to the capital a few times for supplies, and I’d visited the Scout HQ twice, but those were all by myself. I haven’t done anything with other people for a long, long time. I used that fact to try to convince myself that I deserved this break as I took a sip of the cheap wine that was brought. 

They all talked and talked about their lives, whatever drama was going on around in their shared friend groups, and how many people were getting “panicked married” as Hulia, one of the potential girlfriends put it. I agreed with them, nodding my head and inputting some opinions here and there, but I was never engaged in the conversation enough to start my own. I would just sip and sip, not minding how much Raphel was filling my cup with. 

The more I drank, the more it made me think about Levi. Why hadn’t he come and visited me yet? Did he not like me anymore? Had I done something wrong? Had something happened on the expedition? Did he find someone else? All of these were running through my head at hundreds of miles per hour, that when Jonas nudged me to answer a question Hulia asked, I had to make her repeat it. 

“When do you think you’ll get married, Eva?” She asked with no ill-intent, and there was a dreamy look of romance in her eyes with this question. I wasn’t the first one to answer the question, but I was also the only girl here that wasn’t with her boyfriend or whatever they were to each other. I wondered what the other two had said. Probably something cute and romantic. They’d get married in Trost, maybe move to Wall Sina, and start a happy little family away from the titans and away from conflict. There had to be something in there about flowers and picking out a dress too. Maybe I wished I listened to them so I could fake an answer and model it after theirs. If I was thinking realistically, my chances of getting married now were slim to none. At least, that was what I had gotten from Levi. Actually, we never talked about those things, and it became clearer and clearer why. First, he didn’t think he was going to come back from this expedition. Secondly, how were you supposed to dream about marriage when you don’t know what the next day is going to bring? 

So I lied to them and Jonas knew. The look in his eyes told me he knew what I was truly thinking.

“Sometime later in life. Not right now, but when I can settle down and hand to the cafe over to someone for a bit. I have no dress or inheritance from my mother, so that part will be quite difficult.” Hulia was digging me further into a grave, not feeling my discontent or seeing Jonas's stare.

“Oh, Eva!” She clasped her hands together, “I think you’d look beautiful in a white dress! You can have Ben walk you down too and you can have those blue flowers that you always love to have in your cafe. It will be one of those small intimate marriage ceremonies, you know? When I get married, I have so much family I don’t know where I could fit them all!” I gave her a look, but she was too drunk to realize the weight of her words. Was she bragging about how big her family was to me? I had half a mind to tell her off, and of course, the wine was fueling me. How many glasses did I down while looking into the fading horizon?

The others were now running around in the field, playing some sort of game like the kids their wine-filled brains told them they were. I used to be like that when I was drunk. I’d play tag or truth or date or some type of game that children play in school. Arguably, that was before I swore off drinking after getting so drunk I couldn't stop throwing up the next day. Now here I was, thinking randomly about the end of the world while staring off into the setting sun. Jonas wasn’t with them either, and I knew my attitude made him barely drink. He just sat next to me, leaning back on his hands, trying to find the words to say. 

“Do you think the world will end because of the titans or because of the humans?” He sighed and let out a ‘what the fuck’, before entertaining me. He knew I was drunk.

“Humans.” I shook my head, disagreeing with him. 

“I think it’ll be because of titans. Want to know why?” He picked at the grass but indulged me. 

“Why?”

“Because they’re already trying to ruin my life.” That made him pause, take the wine glass out of my hands, and down the rest of it for himself in one gulp. He was right, I didn’t need any more of that, or my true feelings were really going to come out. He probably still wasn't emotionally ready to hear me drunkenly babble about Levi when he could barely stand it sober. 

“What do you want to do about it?” I knew he was asking about the titan problem, but I remembered a conversation we had earlier. It had now been another month. Six. The same amount of time I’d waited for him last time, but the thing was last time he came to me right away. He loved me then, holding me at night on the couch. What was so different now? 

“I don’t want to do anything because I want him to come to me on his own, but I’m afraid if I don’t do anything, he won’t come.” He moved to sit up completely, trying to see the expression on my face. 

“And if he doesn’t come?” I could hear the faintest hint of hope in his voice, and it made me laugh sadistically. 

“I don’t know. I’ll spiral into madness again. Something like that.” He groaned and leaned back fully on the grass, hands behind his head. That was what I meant by not being able to handle it. 

“Do you want to know my opinion now that you’re drunk?” I scoffed. 

“I’m not drunk, but sure. I haven’t got much left to be sad about, give me more.” I went to take another sip, but the glass was emptied and so were the rest of the bottles we’d brought. This just left me to stare at whatever game the couples were playing. 

“I think he’s an asshole and doesn’t deserve the patience and kindness you’re giving him.” It sounded a lot calmer than I thought it would come out. I knew that already, though. I knew what Jonas thought of Levi, and that sentence was an extremely abridged version. I would always hear him mumble profanities and insults here and there about him whenever he was brought up, and I heard some of his famous opinions from Ben too. However, some of his opinions did get to me, mostly about the wait. Why was I waiting for so long? I thought about that too, late at night. What motivated me to stay with Levi even though he’s been away from me for at least a year in total. The time we’ve been together has been so small, and by now, I’m usually making breakfast every morning for the man I’m seeing. That’s what had happened before.

“You thought that about Kristian, too, and he was your friend.” Jonas froze next to me, having not heard that name exit my mouth in years. He thought it was an unspoken rule I’d given him to never mention Kristian. It was probably because I was drunk that I brought his name up, and this situation felt eerily similar to our past best friend.

“Well, Kristian wasn’t in the Scouts when you were with him. Same complaint, different circumstance.” The sun finally made its descent below the horizon, and the purples that spread throughout the sky masked the tears falling from my eyes. I hadn’t thought about Kristian for a while either, but something about this moment reminded me of him. One because, again, I'd picked someone over Jonas who didn't agree, and, two, because of what Jonas had said back then that he'd said before. He just thought that, now, it was taboo to bring in Kristian. 

“When you asked me if the pain was really worth the love, it made me think about Kristian.”

“Oh,” Jonas nodded, easily remembering how Kristian and I had left things, and how his death made it impossible to make things any better. Regardless of his death, Kristian wouldn't have been forgiven.

“With him, it wasn’t. I was always in pain near the end. He was too domineering, too chaotic; he was everything I was running away from. He was the temptation to turn back into what I once was, and it always excited me to teeter on that line with him. Thrilling maybe, but toxic. He crossed that line, and I stayed where I was. The pain back then wasn’t worth the two or three laughs Kristian would give me throughout the day.” There was a silence, both of us not knowing what to say to that. Kristian was gone, and he had been gone for years now. It felt wrong to speak on his name like that, but he deserved every bad thing that came to him. We both knew that too. 

“Kri-”

“I don’t feel that with Levi, Jonas. Right now, most of the time, I don’t feel the regret I felt back then when I was stuck with Kristian. But then I think, maybe I don’t feel it now, but down the road, I’ll feel it again. That scares me, because I really, really like being with Levi. When I’m with him I’m happy, but when I’m without him I can barely function. It’s codependency in a way. I was codependent on Kristian, and look where that got me. I don't want to be codependent on Levi, and I don't think I am right now, but it could be that way. I also just think I feel so awful now because, for five months, Levi was out fighting titans with no way of me knowing if he was dead or alive. It's not codependency but worries. Logical.” 

“So, you’re saying that you don’t feel like Levi is like Kristian, but you’re afraid that it might turn into that if things keep going the way they are?” I picked at the grass, not caring that tears were slowly falling down my face, making permanent trails. Actually, it had been a few good weeks since I'd cried about something. It felt like a good release now, and because I was far gone on wine, I didn't feel the depth of my tears. It was like I was just crying to cry, and not because all of the feelings I had when I was with Kristian were coming back. Not because I was scared it would turn out that way. 

“They were both Scouts.” He hummed, putting one of his hands on top of mine to stop my nervous picking of the grass. He was concerned, and you were glad the coming darkness hid your tears. If he saw them, he would take you back immediately. He would pull you up, makeup up some lie to the others, and sit me down on the couch after we got back, not holding me anymore, but just sitting to my right, a hand over mine. 

“This is very not me to say, but have you told Levi about this?” 

“What do you mean? About what?” He bit his lip, decided whether to say something or not to me. He always bit his lip when he was holding back something for my mental benefit, but I wanted him to say it. I needed him to say it. Something to snap me back to reality. 

“Does he know that your greatest fear is abandonment?” I pulled my knees to my chest, not liking out that sentence made me feel emotional. I’d like to say it was the wine that made me start crying even more, but I knew that wasn’t true. Jonas had broken some flood gate inside of me, finding the root of the problem was having. I was afraid of being abandoned. That was the real reason I’d work at the cafe hours and hours on end. If Mr. Flynn saw how I was a good worker, he would forget about my previous bad behavior or bad grade and he wouldn’t throw me out on the street again. If I just gave into Kristian’s physical wants and did what he said, then he wouldn’t leave me like before. He’d stay then. But now, I couldn’t think of something that I did or was doing to Levi. Was I making him face his feelings too early? Did the fact that I was weak and not a Scout deter him from coming to see me? I would do anything to fix it. To make him come back. Jonas just sat there with one hand on my back for what felt like forever. The laughter in the background took on a new cynical tone as I sat there in juxtaposition to their fun. I was thankful, too, that the sun was finally down, so in their drunken haze, they had no idea what was going on to the right of them.

The next day, I rode back to the Scout HQ, and seeing that the notebook I’d left two weeks ago was still there, I took it back with me. I had no idea why I felt like this, but I just needed to take it. It was like I had given him a three-week opening to my heart, and since he didn't take it, I'd take it back. If he wasn't moved to come back after reading it, if he even read it, then he didn't get to anymore. I really didn’t know what to do when I slammed it on my desk, along with the letters he wrote me previously scattered on the surface. I’d read them over and over again, trying to rationalize why he wouldn’t come back even when he wrote words as sweet as those. It had to have been the refugee expedition. Something had to have happened then for him to not want to see me, perhaps even ever again.

For the first time, I was angry at him.

He couldn’t even bless me with two minutes or a piece of paper to display his feelings towards me. He was hiding again, but this time there was no injury to hold him away from me. Jonas said he looked fine, and in one piece, and for the longest time I was glad. That was enough for me to get by; waiting for him. Waiting. Waiting. Why was I always waiting for him? In a burst of anger, I picked up the book and threw it across the room, hitting the blackboard with battle formations on it. The blackboard that Levi used when he was here. Everything that he left was still there, but now I knew the papers must not have been important if he didn’t come back for them. I shoved them back in the drawer, one by one, not caring if I bent them. What use would they have anyway? Next were the letters. I was going to keep them, I wasn’t that mad to ruin something this important to me, but I didn’t want to see them anymore. They would go in the drawer along with his papers. Lastly, I picked up the notebook that I threw on the floor. Five months of pain, and he didn’t have the decency to read it? This one, I let my fingers run along the cover, remembering how I wrote in this night after night. I could feel the pain come from the leather it was bound in. I remembered the moments I would just hold it, reading over my won words, and crying again. I flipped open the pages, skimming the words I wrote again for one last paintime. 

The last page didn’t have my handwriting on it. The very last page of the journal, the only one left blank, was now covered in that familiar cursive scrawl. I lifted a hand to cover my mouth, not knowing what feeling I had inside. He had read it… but even so, he didn’t come back. How long had it been since he’d picked up this notebook till now? 

 Evlynn M Flynn, 

I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you. For the ways I’ve made you feel inside. Reading this journal made me realize how much I hurt you. I’m sorry for everything. For giving you false hope and hypnotizing feelings. It was never my intention to make you feel like this adding my presence in your life. Find someone who gives you true happiness, because it will never be me. 

Levi 

 What was this? He'd read it. Yet, I wasn't happy. I was the opposite of happy. I stared down at it, reading it over and over. The tears started to make the ink run on the page and I reached down to rip it out, crumbling it in my hands. Is this what I wanted? Some note? Some proof that he cared? And wasn’t I thinking the same things? His lack of presence caused me pain. His not being there hurt me emotionally and physically. I had written that in the notebook. We had read the same notebook, the same journal entries, so why did he interpret it so differently? Him leaving was going to be the best solution? Did he not see how I was lost without him there? 

I was angry. 

So much so that in the dead of the night, right after dinner and right after I'd gained the courage, I hitched up Jonas’s horse without him knowing. When the Garrison members stopped to ask where I was going, I just glared down at them and rode past the gates into Wall Rose. I knew that there would be cadets everywhere on the ground until my past visits. They would see me riding up, some might even stop and question me, but I had one motive. I was done waiting. What person tries to leave someone by leaving a short note? Is this how cowardly Humanity’s Strongest was? 

I rode on the HQ grounds, not breaking the horse's stride. The cadets turned to look, not ever seeing my face before. They probably turned to each other, asking about my presence, but I was past them too fast to notice any conversation. When I jumped off the horse, leaving someone else to take care of it, the same cadet I’d encountered before called out to me. He had to be a groundskeeper or something to always be chasing me off. Either way, I started up the stairs that I’d only walked up once, him behind me yelling. He never caught up, and when I turned the corner to the officer’s wing, he sounded even more frantic. If it was after dinner, the officers were sure to be in some form of meeting, and I wasn’t going to let them continue. Whatever it was, they had weeks to talk about it. This was a more pressing matter. 

“Please! Ma’am! The officers are-!” I shoved open Erwin’s door with ease, hearing it slam against the interior wall. They all turned their heads to look at me, all sitting around a table, a map in the middle displaying figures of titans and horses. Some I recognized and others I had no clue who they were, but I wasn’t looking at them. I stared down Levi whose eyes were as wide as he would let them. Had he forgotten he’d told me his schedule or was he surprised that the sad, depressed me had displayed this much effort to see him?

“Commander! I’m so sorry I let her get in here! I can take her away if-” Erwin held his hand up and was inspecting the look on my face. He knew there was no stopping me at this point, my breathing growing heavy as I looked back up at him, waiting for whatever orders he’d give me. Did he know why I was here? 

“Squad Leader Hange, can you take Miss. Flynn to your office, please? The meeting won’t go on for more than ten minutes.” Hange stood, pushing her glasses up to their original place, before walking over to me with a smile. She put one hand on my shoulder before speaking to me.

“Come on,” she said in a hushed tone, pulling me down the hallway silently after dismissing the cadet. There was tension there, but I couldn’t tell why. Did she know why you’d suddenly appeared? 

Hange’s office was different from Levi and Erwin's. Glassware, chemicals, and books were thrown everywhere with no organization. There were drawings of titan structures hanging all over the walls too, barely leaving the white brick exposed. The biggest difference was the fact that there were candles and oil lamps everywhere, illuminating her workspace and the room. It felt warm but did nothing to calm my anger.

“You know, I told him not to do it.” It didn’t make me feel any better, even if that was her intention. It made me think of how many other people he’d talked to about this besides myself. She walked out after that, closing the door behind her and leaving me to stand in the middle of her office, looking at the books sprawled out on the center table. None of them really made any sense to me, filled with anatomy or certain titan sciences, but it still was a welcomed distraction from the conversation to be had five minutes in the future. I flipped through her hypothesis about titans and sunlight, a few things about their internal body, and other more complicated diagrams. I never knew Hange was this scientifically inclined, all I knew was that she was the designated doctor for the Scouts since the government thought it trivial to send them a real one. Come to think of it, there was nothing in this office that even hinted at medical care, meaning Hange probably just picked it up for necessity. 

Levi never told me much about the people in the Scout Regimen, probably for isolation purposes. I’ve only talked to Hange three times, and Erwin only once when he personally came to visit the café. It was interesting to see them in their natural habitat here, and I had to agree that the look Erwin first gave me when I stormed into their meeting was scary. He was the Commander though, it was his job to demand and control. Levi had called Hange a Squad Leader once, and I wasn’t able to ask him what that meant, but it was probably close to his rank as she was also in the officer’s meeting and had an office like this. Notably smaller than Levi’s it was still an office. Standing here now, I wished I’d known more about the place I stood and maybe about titans. 

“What are you doing here at this hour?” It was harsh and I was paying too much attention to Hange’s books to notice the door had opened and Levi came in. Still, I didn’t react to his words and just kept staring down at the book. Truthfully, I didn’t think I’d get to this point, and everything that I had rehearsed on the way here had left my head and had been replaced with slight happiness at finally seeing him again. It had been so long. There he was, standing unscathed, his eyes looking down at me. How badly did I want to run over there and throw my arms around him like the hug we shared when he left?

“Are you not going to talk to me? Isn’t that why you interrupted our meeting?” I wondered if he was happy to see me at all, but it didn’t seem like it. His voice was hallow and distant. There was no emotion in his eyes at all as I looked over my shoulder at him. He just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking right at me. When I, again, didn’t answer, he sighed and closed his eyes, eyebrows knitting together like he was the one allowed to be frustrated. 

���If you’re not going to say anything, I’ll just leave. I have a personal meeting with Erwin.” He turned to open the door and that’s when my whole body turned to face him. It was a tactic, after all, just to get me to finally respond. He probably didn’t have anything to do other than paperwork, Erwin knowingly dismissing him. I held out the crumpled piece of paper out in front of my body and he took one look down at it, knowing exactly what it was. I had no idea how he thought he wouldn’t have to confront me about this personally, but he did seem a bit… annoyed? 

“I’m glad you read the journal, but I was not happy to find this in the back.” He sighed, turning away from the door and back to me.

“You need to forget. Forget about the Scouts. About the HQ. Everything. Forget about me.” The paper dropped from my hands, and I lost the composure I was holding in before. 

“You read through that whole journal and that’s what your solution was? To leave?!” His eyes shifted to the door, knowing someone outside was probably listening, so he kept his voice down. 

“Being with me hurts you, and it will continue to hurt you the more I have to be gone. You told me once that you’d be fine if I died, but after reading your words, I know that won’t be the case. You need to forget me now so I can’t hurt you more in the future.” I gripped my hands into fists, not believing what I was hearing. I could take it in written form, but I had thought up until now it was a mistake. 

“You know I don’t care about that!”

“But I do.” His voice was calm this whole time, showing no emotion. It was like he’d reverted before me. All the work and effort I’d put in to make him comfortable to share his feelings around me was crumbling. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling when he was saying these hollow words to me. 

“What happened? What happened between when you left for this expedition till now for you to think like that?” 

“Watching millions of people die in front of you makes you think about who you can and can’t protect. If I can’t protect them when they’re right in front of me, how am I supposed to be able to protect you?” I huffed in anger, looking at the ceiling as tears were threatening to fall. I was not about to cry in front of him. Not when he was giving me no emotion. He didn’t deserve mine. There was no regret or remorse in his voice either when speaking about the refugees. This was not the same man who had confided in me on the couch about how opposed he was to this mission. 

“You don’t need to protect me. I’m in Trost, I’m surrounded by other people, and you’ve taught me how to defend myself. Most of the time I’m with Jonas anyways. There’s nothing to be-” Levi seemed to catch something in my sentence and ride with it. The worst thing possible. 

“Go be with him.” That made me pause and blink. This couldn’t be real. There was no way he would have said that before. 

“Who are you?!” I yelled, feeling the frustration build and build. 

“I read the journal. Over and over. And every time I got to the point Jonas came back, you were happier. Over and over, I read about another man making you happy.” My mouth was wide open when he said that. Still, it was emotionless. What did he really want? It couldn’t have been that. It would have never been that. He'd vocalized his distaste for Jonas over and over again and now he was just yielding to him? This was not Levi.

“Jonas is my friend. You know that. You make me happy, Levi! So why are you taking that away from me?!” He shook his head, pushing himself off the wall. 

“He can give you what I can’t. You want a family, kids, whatever, I can never give you that. How can I think of my future when I know I’m not going to have one?” I put one hand on my head, finally getting a headache from everything he was saying. He wanted to let me go because he didn’t want to hurt me? Because he couldn’t give me what I wanted? Yet, I’ve told him so many times that all I want is him. He's agreed, too. He's told me what he feels for me. How deep he feels for me. And now he was going to throw that all away so easily? Levi was never someone to do something like this. He would never let me go this easily. 

“You’re not my Levi. Whoever is talking right now, you aren’t him. Levi would never say something like that!” 

“You’ve only known me for a total of four months, how do you know who Levi is?” I looked up at him fiercely, feeling that as an insult towards me. How did I not know who he was? 

“You’re not the Levi who fell asleep in my arms? The one who confided in me about his fears? About his past in the Underground? The one who kissed me every night with unyielding passion? That wasn’t you? Was I housing a stranger?” He scoffed this once. Just once, he gave me what he was feeling. He scoffed at me. He insulted me. And now, after I told him that, he couldn’t even look at me to deliver the final, heartbreaking line. The line that made me stop speaking and stare at the ground. The line that haunted me as I laid in bed that night, not being able to sleep. 

“The emotional codependency you have for me is stifling, Evlynn.”

That made me shake in anger, in sadness, I had no clue. It was the fact that he’d echoed my biggest insecurity out loud. Was I codependent on Levi for my happiness? I’d thought about it over and over, trying to get myself out of the five-month slump, but now, he just confirmed it. He confirmed that he hated it. I was stifling him. Everything he said before felt fake. It was an excuse to make me feel better about him leaving me, like it was even about me this whole time. He had written that note to hide his true feelings apparently, but how true were they? How could he go from holding me, loving me, to just... not feeling anything?

“T-then why are you… wh-why are you with me?” He still couldn’t look at my hunched over figure. 

“I only realized when I read your journal how dependent you are on me. It’s stifling. I don’t like it. I can’t deal with it when I have more important things to do.” It was like every word he said was a hammer, hitting me down lower and lower to the ground. I had to grip Hange’s table to stand, and even then it sent books flying to the floor. My heart was burning and so were my eyes. How could he be so cruel and brutal with me now? Was this the Captain Levi that everyone had talked about? The man you were convinced to be needy and kind was just now showing his true form.

“I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me.” I could see the way he froze. The way he still couldn’t look at me even when I was ready to lock eyes with him for the last time. I was staring right at him, the tears still yet to fall. I couldn’t show him emotion, it would be burdensome, wouldn’t it? Still, he didn’t look at me. It was stomach-wrenching the silence in the room as he thought over his answer.

“I've never told you I loved you.”

No, that was the line that haunted me. That was the one that I’d think about forever. Yet, that was the one that forced me out of the room. I just stood up, balancing myself before I walked right out the door. Right past his body, the one who still couldn’t look at me and show me his true emotions. I would never get to see it again. I stopped, right before closing the door, and looking right at Hange who was standing against the back wall, probably in wait. Had she known? That’s why she told me that when I’d entered her office. He had told her everything. He’d told her that he didn’t love me and I was too burdensome for him. How many people had he told before telling me? Coward. This realization gave me a false calm as I was falling apart inside. I needed to be strong in front of him. I couldn't show him how much he'd just hurt me.

“I love you, Levi. And if you deem that as codependency, then I don’t think you’ll ever know what love is.” Hange didn’t look at me after that, she looked right at Levi. I saw the look in her eyes too. Anger. At least I had one person here who seemed to support me. I walked past her, down the stairs, and out the door quickly, grabbing the horse that someone had hitched up for me. The cadets had all gone to their rooms, and the field was empty. This allowed me to walk out of the Scout HQ grounds, knowing that he would be looking at me from a window. I didn’t turn around though. I didn’t look back to see if he was there. I just rode back to Trost, holding in the tears I had till I was sitting in Jonas’s stable, feeding his horse an apple for everything she’d seen while I took her from her sleep. I just cried and cried, hiding my sobs in the back of my hand. Trost wouldn't get to hear my wailing for him. For that asshole. For that spineless, cowardly, annoying, handsome, kind - no. The only person who got to heard my sob was me and Jonas's horse. 

“What did he do?” It was an angry voice behind me, but I didn’t look back at him. I didn’t want Jonas to see me crying over Levi again and again like he had warned me about. I didn’t want Jonas to know he was right. So, I just stood there and cried, and only allowed Jonas to see my face when he came to hug me to his chest in comfort. We stood there for what seemed like forever, and he didn't speak for the longest time. I wanted him too. I wanted him to confirm how awful Levi was so it was easy for me to start to forget. But who was I kidding, how was I going to forget him? In an out of my life like a flash, but one so bright that I'd still see him when I closed my eyes every night to sleep. I would never forget Levi. 

“Shh, I’m here, Eva. I won’t leave you.”

xx oopsiesssss 

Chapter Fifteen →

Chapter Masterlist

[bruhlsbees]

the last night || anthony adams x fem!reader

summary: during his last night in the unit, anthony makes sure he's leaving you with one more good memory

pairing: anthony adams x fem!reader

word count: 2,395

warnings: general fluff, angst, skinny dipping, mentions of mental illness and being in a mental hospital, 18+ although no smut

a/n: i went into bottle rocket not knowing what to expect fully and i came out a full anthony adams simp so pls enjoy this fluffy piece pre-bottle rocket events - this is vvvv self-indulgent and sloppy, but it's just a piece i wanted to write and post

“So when are you leaving?” You asked casually, trying your best to not let your own feelings show - after all, you were happy for him, he was getting out.

You just wished you could go with him.

“Tomorrow. Dignan’s coming to ‘rescue’ me sometime in the afternoon,” Peeling open the wrapper of the pastry you swiped for him from the cafeteria earlier that day, he broke it in half to share with you, “I wouldn’t put it past him to show up with some elaborate scheme.”

“That’s Dignan for you.” You took the half he offered you and held it in your hands, staring at the moist breading before sighing and stuffing it in your mouth, chewing on it to try and avoid the built up feeling you had inside.

Okay, so maybe you were being a little selfish, but of all the years you had been there at the hospital, Anthony was the first you really clicked with. So it was only fair for you to be a little upset to know that he was getting out. Wasn’t it?

The two of you sat in comfortable silence while you finished off the muffin, you at the foot of his bed while he sat up top. Anthony wasn’t an idiot - nor was he new to being around you - he knew you were upset with him leaving, but how could he say it without you lashing out?

You had reminded him of Dignan in a lot of ways, which is why maybe he hit things off with you so well. You had the same passion Dignan did with your schemes, though your schemes only ever involved stealing desserts from the cafeteria and sneaking off into janitor’s closets when you two should have been outside.

He knew you’d be able to handle yourself, but he did worry though at the idea of your episodes. Without him around, would you be able to keep yourself grounded enough to not get thrown in isolation every other week?

Anthony was content with the idea of just sitting in his room the rest of the night with you, walking you back to your room once you got tired and kissing you on the cheek goodnight. Though, when he saw the tear slip down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away before he noticed, he knew he couldn’t just end the night on a somber note.

Everyone knew you two as ‘the duo’ around the unit. You were always the one leading with Anthony following behind you, occasionally pulling you back before you got into too much trouble. But tonight, he would be the one taking charge.

Standing up from his bed, Anthony extended his hand out to you, offering you his signature kind smile before motioning towards the door.

“Come on, I got an idea.” At first you were hesitant - his ideas usually meant dragging you on a walk to ‘clear your head’ or sit outside. To be quite frank, they were boring compared to the ideas you brewed in your head. Given though it was his last night, you complied.

You took his hand and smiled when he pulled you up, letting his fingers interlock with your’s before giving them a squeeze. Dragging you with him, Anthony led you both out of his room, checking to make sure there weren’t any guards around before heading down the hallway that led to the rec rooms.

Pushing through the set of doors that led into the basketball court, you turned your nose slightly, “We aren’t playing basketball, are we?” Your nose turned into a scrunch when you heard him laugh, squeezing your hand before pulling you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“No, I know you can’t play to save your life. I have a better idea, just trust me.”

And you did, of course you did - it was Anthony.

After making your way through the basketball court, the two of you headed down the back hallway that led down the stairs and to the pool. When the scent of chlorine hit your nose, you turned your head up and towards him.

“I didn’t bring a suit,” You began, toying with the bracelet on your wrist. Humming as you looked around, you took a step closer to the pool, looking down at the deep end, “Plus we just ate - aren’t you supposed to wait like an hour before you go swimming?”

Shaking his head, Anthony took a few steps forward until he was behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Well...I was thinking we didn’t have to wear suits, and if you’re worried about cramps, I don’t mind waiting.”

Leaning back into his arms, your hands held onto his, thinking about his idea.

“Oh...so like...we’d swim naked?” You felt him crane his neck down to kiss the top of your head, your lips pulling into a smile.

“Yeah, unless you’d rather go in your underwear. Whatever you want.” Turning you in his arms to look down at you, Anthony smiled and brought his hands up to your face, holding your cheeks before lightly pinching them between his fingers.

Giggling at his movements, you pulled away and shook your head, “No, I like this idea. Very daring for the famous ‘Austere Anthony Adams’.” You teased, making your way over to the side of the pool near the bench.

As you began to pull your clothes off, Anthony made his way towards you, unzipping his sweater to join you in the process, though his brain was still trying to wrap around the word you used to describe him.

“Austere? What does that mean?” He questioned, watching as you shimmied out of your pants, now standing in your underwear. He honestly figured you were going to go in your underwear, but he was pleasantly surprised to see you reach behind your back and unclip your bra.

“It means serious. You’re a quite serious person,” You pushed your underwear down your legs and stepped out of them, letting your clothes fall into a pile before you stood back up, “Just cause I’m a nut, doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of vocabulary.”

Before he could make a comment about your diss on yourself, wanting to point out that he never thought that way, you were quick to make a dash for the pool, throwing yourself in and letting the room echo with the sounds of the splash.

Anthony was quick to join you, struggling to pull his boxers off from around his ankles, hopping over towards the pool before managing to finally kick them off, diving in after you.

The water was much cooler than you had expected it to be, which wasn’t a complaint at all given how hot it had been recently in Arizona. You wished that you were allowed more pool time in the summer, but figured that they kept you on the same routine for a reason.

When Anthony came up from the water, he pushed his hair back and spit out some water, treading the water until he found a spot where his feet could touch the bottom. Making your way towards him, you struggled to keep your head above water.

Letting you struggle for a bit, Anthony’s own smile pulled until he decided that you probably had enough and pulled you into his arms, letting your legs wrap around his middle. Your arms came to wrap around his neck, fingers gently running through the back of his hair that was by the base of his neck.

“I forgot how terrible of a swimmer you are.” He noted, flinching when you splashed water at him. Before you could make a comment about how you had known him for some time now, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to you.

It was always your favorite way to have him shut you up, and the same went for him. Out of all the kisses you had shared with people both in and out of the unit, Anthony was by far your favorite.

His kisses reminded you of the feeling you got when you watched your parents kiss growing up. It was gentle and made your heart ache whenever you saw them because you knew it was something you wanted. Now you finally got to have that sweet kiss, with Anthony.

When the two of you pulled away, your smile sank into a frown when you noticed his own expression shift into something sad, “You know, I don’t think of you as a nut...and I’d wish you’d stop saying that about yourself.” He whispered.

Letting your shoulders sink, you kept quiet while you listened to him, your eyes welling with tears again at the sight of him staring at you the way he did. You both knew you were crazy - hell, that’s why you were here and not out there, but he always made it a priority to make you still feel like a person.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know? But I’ll still keep in touch, write you letters and tell you all about the crazy things Dignan is wrapping me up in,” Quick to change the subject, he pushed some of your hair back and smiled tenderly, “Who knows, maybe when you get out you can join us? I know Dignan will like you. Hell, you two will probably gang up on me any chance you can.”

You liked the idea of joining them in their schemes, to be free and out in the world with Anthony - no longer feeling like a bird trapped in a cage - but despite your constant drift into a dream world you enjoyed living in, you were still a realist when you needed to be, and you knew you’d never be able to go out in the world with him.

“That sounds nice...maybe if we’re on the road we can go and see the Grand Canyon? I’ve never been there before. I hear it’s really nice.” You closed your eyes when you felt him kiss your forehead, moving once he pulled back to let your head fall into the crook of his neck.

“We can go wherever you wanna go. You, me...unfortunately probably Dignan too,” He felt you smile against his neck and his smile only grew, “But it’ll be good. Having you with us...with me.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, him holding you while you kept your head pressed into his neck. He ignored the obvious sniffles coming from you as you cried, rubbing your back as the two of you began to mourn the time you two shared.

He would’ve been perfectly fine holding you the rest of the night, until you got tired and wanted to go back, but he was happy to feel you pull back, lightly kicking off him and falling onto your back to float in the water.

Anthony watched you for a bit, listening to you hum one of the songs that played on the radio a lot before swimming towards you, joining you in the back float.

Staring up at the ceiling, Anthony began to wonder what he’d do once he got out. He knew he’d, of course, need to find a job. Maybe his friend Bob could help him with that? He’d want to see Grace too, his little sister, and his parents.

Hell, would they even want to see him?

The rest of the night together in the pool was spent silently floating beside one another, occasionally changing positions so Anthony could hold you in his arms for the last time. When you commented on how your fingers were beginning to prune, the two of you decided that it was probably time to go.

The walk to your room was heavy - you holding onto his hand tightly, your steps much slower than usual. You knew once you said goodnight, you’d also be saying goodbye.

It didn’t come as a surprise to him when he noticed you crying now, and not bothering to hide your tears from him.

You opened your door, ready to say a short goodnight to get it over with - to let your mind pretend you’d see him tomorrow and you two would do your usual day, but Anthony stopped you before you could.

“I’m happy for you!” You rushed out, clinging onto him as he hugged you, “You deserve to be getting out, I’m just-“

“Shh…I know, I know. It’s okay,” Petting your hair, Anthony closed his eyes and tried to focus on not crying himself, wanting to stay strong for you. “Like I said, I’ll still keep in touch. Send you letters and let you know where I’m at. That way when you get out, you can come find me.”

Pulling back, you nodded and sniffled, wiping your nose before carefully untying your bracelet, taking his left hand to bring up, tying it around his wrist.

“Hey, that‘s your bracelet-”

“I know. You’re just keeping it safe for me until I get out,” You smiled when you finished tying it off before looking up at him, “When we see each other again you can give it back.”

Quietly looking at you, Anthony’s lips pulled into a thin line, gaze falling to the bracelet before his other hand came up, fingers lightly grazing over the blue and purple string.

“You’re gonna do great out there. I bet you’re going to get a real cool job and drive one of those fancy cars we see driving down the road-”

Cutting you off with a kiss, Anthony held your face close to him for the last night, taking his time with the kiss to get it all out of him before he left.

He’d miss the feeling in his stomach that he got when he kissed you. Like a bunch of moths were floating around. Your lips always felt soft to him and he wondered if all girls were like that - or if it was just you.

It was you who pulled away this time, gently pushing him back until you both were staring at each other.

This was it. This was the end.

Opening the door to your room, you began to walk in before turning to face Anthony for the last time.

“Have a goodnight.” He whispered.

You smiled weakly and nodded, “Goodbye, Anthony.”