#and i wouldn't dare write about it had i not witnessed my own very loving mother

[twcfaces]

Since we're on the subject of Harvey being biracial, I think his pops really hated that.

Actual mentions of real-world prejudice, abuse, etc below! Please do not trip over this line if these things are triggering for you.

I feel like the elephant in the room is

>'but his wife was black'

Racism doesn't actually preclude a person from pursuing a relationship outside their race. But that is dissertation paper material and not fictional character blog material. Do not @ me for a dissertation or I will literally find one for you.

>But Halekulani why discuss real life nastiness when you're writing fiction?

Because I motherfucking w a n t to.

Anyway, Harv's dad would use any and all excuses to smack his son across the floor and then make an effort to 'make it up' to him before doing it again the next night and he would definitely dip into the 'you're [insert offensive hateful stereotypical shit here] because you have your mother's blood in you, etc.'

so, literally punishing him for something not under his control and something that isn't in any way a bad thing - but Harvey can never be 'normal' or acceptable to pops because he's not, y'know - white.

Harvey's father made him feel like he was split all the way down to his DNA, like there was something inherently wrong with who he was that he continuously had to make up for.

And there isn't. There is nothing - absolutely NOTHING - inherently wrong with him, or his mother, or his identity.

He gets that now, as an adult, that his father was just a fucking nasty, horrible, alcoholic, abusive, prejudiced, controlling asshole that needed to lord his authority over anyone that trusted him and anyone he thought he could bully.

But damn, sometimes it still hits. He wonders if he's speaking 'right' or if it's 'too much'. He wonders if his clothes are too reserved or too 'try-hard'.

And it sucks.

Yes, I just read GCPD : The Blue Wall. Why do you ask? [shaking, crying]

[valkeakuulas]

14, post-o66 echo/rex 👁👄👁

Y'know, I don't recall writing about this ship before. Especially when it comes to the Bad Batch timeline. 🤔 So here goes nothing! This also grew legs and skittered out of my hands, turning into a lot longer before I managed to pin it down and finish it. Whoops?

Mistletoe: Mutual Pining

Echo stood in the shadows of the repair shop's massive doors, watching the traffic going up and down the underworld portal. Behind him, he could hear the music flowing from the floating speakers as well as the low conversation between the freed troopers and the Martez sisters.

Sighing, Echo closed his eyes and listened.

Just like their mutations, the Batch sounded different compared to the rest of the troopers, and while Echo had grown used to them, hearing more than one vod speak with that same, familiar voice soothed something deep inside him. It reminded Echo of his life in the not-so-distant (depending on how one looked at it) past when he'd been wearing white and blue.

"I was wondering where you'd go," one of those voices spoke behind Echo, making him shiver involuntarily as it had so many times before, ever since that cold, desolate moon.

Maybe not that same after all, Echo corrected himself as he turned slightly. Natborns might mix them up but vod could always recognize another one vod from voice alone.

He saw the smile first, small but sincere, before meeting Rex's eyes.

"Just needed a moment, it's been a while since was surrounded by this many people," Echo replied with a small smile of his own.

Rex hummed, thoughtful as he came to stand next to Echo, their shoulders almost touching. He looked at the never-ending traffic as well and it took Echo everything not to lean against Rex as he waited for his Captain Rex to speak again.

"It's been a while for me too," Rex said eventually, "I was on my own quite a while before Rafa and Trace helped me to free more clones." His brows drew together, the smile turning into a mild frown. "Never crossed my mind that I'd end up in a situation where I wouldn't be surrounded by vode. We clones aren't really meant to be alone."

He glanced at Echo. "I'm glad you had the Batch, Echo" Rex said, serious.

"And Omega," Echo had to add, witnessing how Rex's lips twisted, fighting a smile.

"And Omega," Rex amended, "she's different, that's for sure, but very brave as well as smart."

They both couldn't stop their grins as they recalled how the tiny girl had clocked Rex's age with one glance, effectively calling him an old man.

They fell silent again and another piece dedicated to the Life Day started in the background, the velvet-like voice of the singer crooning about curling together with their loved one under the Life Tree.

Echo felt his face warm up a little as he recalled another memory or, more accurately, a dream from the past. One that he hadn't dared to speak to anyone besides Fives and even that had been when he'd been drunk off his ass. Both of them had been drunk offf their asses.

Just like the singer, Echo had once dreamed of closing the distance between him and the man standing next to him, to hold Rex close and whisper words of love into his ear.

But that had been before Lola Sayu, before Echo had been blown to bits. Before the galaxy Echo had known and trained to fight for had turned upside down.

"So what do you think of this whole Life Day thing?" Echo heard Rex ask, the question effectively stopping Echo's thoughts before they spiraled further.

Echo shrugged. "I faintly recall Commander Tano telling something about it but not much. At least nothing like this."

He used his thumb to point back inside the repair shop and the colored lights, the fake tree, and the sparkly decorations the sisters had pulled out from some crates. The repair shop was too large to decorate completely but one corner of it had turned into a glittering, colorful nook like Echo had never seen before.

Omega and Wrecker would love it, Echo mused with a grin.

He turned to Rex to say that, only to freeze when he found the other staring right at him. Those gold-brown eyes were intense, scanning Echo's face almost as if it was a map that Rex needed to memorize.

"You miss them? The Batch?" Rex asked suddenly, jarring Echo once again.

"I do? Kind of hard not to after what we've been through," he replied, slow, uncertain what Rex was aiming at.

Whatever it had been, Echo's answer made him turn away again, and Echo got the sense that Rex wasn't all that pleased with it.

"I miss you, too," Echo blurted, eyes widening when he realised his mistake. "The 501st, I mean," he hurried to add when Rex turned towards him again, "the General and Commander, Jesse and Kix, Axe and Denal. Fives. I miss all of you."

The look Rex gave him wasn't as intense as it had been before but it still had Echo holding back a shiver.

"I miss them, too, Echo," Rex admitted quietly, "and I miss you as well."

Something twinged in Echo's chest and it had nothing to do with the tech embedded in his body. He opened his mouth to say, well, Echo didn't know what he was going to say but before he could, a light movement in the corner of their eyes caught Echo and Rex's attention.

Both of them turned sharply towards the repair shop, only stopping when they saw a branch of something green floating in the air before them.

Except that it wasn't floating; a closer look revealed a cord wrapped around the plant that was slowly moving closer.

Confused, Echo followed the cord and blinked in surprise when he spotted Gregor standing on the stack of crates next to the repair shop doors and, as it happened, next to Echo and Rex as well.

"What the - ?" Echo started just as Rex groaned, suffering.

"Gregor..."

"Nuh-uh, you know the rules, Rex," Gregor informed with a grin as he angled the plant right above them, "if you find yourself under a mistletoe, you need to kiss, otherwise you'll be hit with bad luck."

Echo felt his face heat up at that, his heart twinging again at the idea of Rex kissing him. He didn't know what kind of expression he was wearing but Echo feared it looked too close to a hopeful one.

Trying his best to push it away, Echo glanced at Rex, finding him once again staring at him. And, as Echo watched Rex, his gaze flickered down to Echo's mouth and oh, the flash of teeth as Rex bit his bottom lip nearly had Echo losing control of his knees.

The mistletoe swayed as Gregor shook it. "C'mon, you two have been mooning over each other long enough."

"There's been no such thing," Rex informed Gregor sharply but he didn't look away from Echo, who felt his jaw drop when a light blush dusted Rex's face.

Clearing his throat, Echo gave another look at the mistletoe. "Bad luck, you say? Think it'll hit me double hard since I'm already part of the Bad Batch?" he drawled.

The surprised snort Rex let out eased some of the tension in the air. "Don't think it would be a good idea to find out," he said, aiming for nonchalance but, just like Fives once upon a time, Rex had no sabacc face and he failed rather miserably.

That, and the look Rex was giving at him felt very similar to the one Echo was giving to him.

"Echo...," Rex started, hesitant.

For a second Echo thought about all the times he had wanted to confess his feelings to his Captain, to tell Rex just how much he meant to him.

Echo had survived against all the odds that had been stacked against him since Kamino. Maybe it was time to test if this was just another odd he was meant to win.

Swallowing, Echo stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Rex. He saw Rex's eyes widen in surprise when their chests touched. But instead of moving away, Rex's hands came to rest on Echo's hips, warm and gentle.

"I don't know about you, Rex, but I'd rather kiss you than tempt fate," Echo murmured as he wrapped his arm around Rex's shoulders. "If that's alright with you?"

Breathing shakily, Rex closed his eyes for a second, visibly gathering himself, before opening them again. "I'm more than alright with that, Echo. More than you can ever imagine."

Echo didn't know which one of them moved first but it didn't matter because they were kissing. After so many years, Echo finally got to kiss his Captain.

Above them, Gregor let out a loud hoot, one was nothing but pure glee:

"I told you that it would work, Nemec! You owe me ten credits!"

[xbalayage]

Hi, i see your Chevalier fics and I love it so much. Could you do one again? If you're not busy hehe

I was thinking about his route where MC had fallen asleep beside him and woke up beside Chevalier. What do you think Chevalier was thinking after witnessing mC had fallen asleep beside him. Something like that hehe

Home

Chevalier/Reader Fluff WC: 283 A/N: It's been so long since I've read Chevalier's route and can't recall this scene very well - so I went about my own twist on it and did something a little diferent. I hope that was okay! :) And for once I took some inspo from a song I was listening to.

A California King bed was what it sounds like; a lavish plush of mattress fit for a king that seemed to go on for miles. Once bared empty and hallow, with the constant threat of death knocking at the door, was now warm and comfortable with the companionship of your ethereal beauty resting peacefully by his side. A romantic at heart, he never dare allow it evidently to lay present in the sea of sheets before. Chest to chest, nose to nose, palm to palm, how simple yet intimate it felt to be so close. To find comfort in the heaven sent seemed otherworldly to experience it firsthand; was he even worthy to bask in the holy light of innocence and purity when he was anything but? His hands were tainted and ruined by blood from the lives that'll never see the light of day once more. Never get to hold their loved ones again like he had the honor of doing; maybe some guilt from realizing his emotions did lay dormant in the void of his mind. The guilt of being this incredibly lucky, he'd happily bathe in holy water if it meant his sins could be repented. He never made rash decisions that wouldn't be the betterment of the nation - some innocent would have to fall. But because of you, he's realized from the flutter of your eyelashes twitching in your sleep that perhaps there were better ways at managing the forthcoming future. And it laid in the palms of your sleeping embrace. To have you, to hold you, to cherish you from dusk until dawn. And at that same given moment, her pure eyes open to stare into his soul and give him salvation. " He reached for her and he saw her smile and the voices melded into a single word from God: Home. " - Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

taglist; @nightghoul381, @yvelk, @celiciaa, @drachonia, @aquagirl1978, @here-for-gilbert, @alvieeru, @scummy-writes, @randonauticrap, @maries-gallery, @misty-moth, @violettduchess

[tomyeros]

IV.

I love you, Everything. All of it. Yes, Everything with you.

Hi babe. it's me, Marcellino again. I've come to realize that it's already fourth month together with you. Time quickly flying so fast more than anything. I wish nothing but to stop a time so that I can spent eternity you. Nothing else more I want. Just only you, my love and mostly, my everything. I wouldn't imagine to live in a world without you, your very own presence. I wouldn't take it another way than you. I know it sounds quite greedy, but it comes from beneath of my heart and my unconditional love for you.

These days have been the busiest month for you, witnessing you having mental breakdown, stress, had barely enough of sleepiness, and facing yearly depression. All I can do is to support you without means to stop, and to give you words of comfort to live another day, and to tell you rest once in a while. In which you did that already, I'm truly glad. I am, yes. I'm always concern for your well-being but you assured me that you know your body best. Aside from that, me being cranky, hungry, or even more insane. It's because I've been missing you lately and so badly even without telling you and pressure you to be there for me. As much I wanted to, and I know you feel the same way too. That is why I've been patient for throughout the beginning of this month, especially it's already half way to a year. And yet, we are still together, going stronger and we have this unbreakable bond that nobody wouldn't even dare to break it. I love you, Alana. I always do, truly.

My baby, I know you are a little tired of hearing me saying this for a millionth times, but I love you with all my heart, my mind, and with every fabric of my soul. To infinite and beyond. No one will ever stop me from loving you. From dusk to dawn, from going to sleep and waking up, from minutes to day or perhaps a month already. Nothing can stop me. I know you are feeling bad about me having to wait for you. Please don't feel bad, all I can assure you that I'll keep waiting you even if you don't need me to or tell me to until... Maybe Gods knows when it is going to happen. (admittingly, that I shed a tears typing this) but I want to be with you, till the end and forevermore. If not in this present, probably in the afterlife or ever beyond out of reach. You're the best person in my life inspite that you're cutely insane. You are truly an irreplaceable for me and would not have other way around.

So much ponder to think everything all at once, silly me. I'm quite fragile to write this but hey, I love you crazily. More than you can imagine. :")

I love you from the bottom of my heart, To you, to me, Together.

Happy 4th Monthsary with you, My everything.

With Love, Marcellino.

[lifeofkaze]

It only took me over two weeks and three different infections to finally get down and gather my thoughts together, but I can't see the end of a 100 (!) chapter fanfic come and go from beginning to end without sharing my thoughts on it, can I?

Now, seeing as I took the time to read aaaaall of this amazing story, it won't come as a surprise that I absolutely loved it. I had a blast with Talia and her friends (and foes) and here is why:

Character Growth: Over 100 chapters, you'd expect to see at least a little character growth (oh dear if not lol) and LNE didn't disappoint here in the least. Obviously, the biggest change the main character had to go through; the growth from a slightly reclusive and only a little mistrustful young woman entering the Auror camp with a few secrets in tow to the immortal fire wielder on the brink of losing herself in her hatred for what she has become to something... well, in between, I'd say was fascinating to witness, but seeing how Talbott developed through the course of this fic and gained confidence both in himself and Talia (after a biiiiiig control issue and some very heavy self-doubts, oh boy) was so good to read.

Characters: This fic obv featured a *lot* of characters, and not necessarily all of them were the popular ones. You don't have to be a Seer to know that I enjoyed every chapter Charlie Weasley featured in immensely, but what did surprise eve me was how much I began to care for characters I used to just shrug about. Namely, Felix Rosier, Talbott, and even Snape - all of them were characters just were just there and served their various story purposes for me, until LNE came along and made me *care*. Ugh.

Felix x Talia foreverrrrrrrrrrr

Canon: Having a story with such a wide arc as LNE can be tricky, especially if they involve events we know from canon. I'm very peculiar with my canon and everything fitting in (I wonder where that came from...) but I was so happy to see that LNE struck the perfect balance for me here. Even in parts where the Harry Potter books and LNE overlapped (the Battle at the Ministry, the Battle of Hogwarts...) this story twists in ways that focus on side-events, or what could have happened at the side without it impacting what happened to Harry and co. For me, that's honestly the perfect (and dare I say, only) way to do it properly, so well done!

Action: Oh my, there's so much I loved in/learned from this story. The action scenes - a big part of the past 100 chapters - were always impeccable and although there are plenty of them, they never felt repetitive or boring even in the slightest. I took a lot of example from this story (and @whatwouldvalerydo) when writing the first of my own fight scenes, and Val really *does* know what she's doing.

Angst: This wouldn't be a Val-/Talia-story if it wasn't angsty af, let's be honest here. But each and every time, the angst was very respectfully handled and emotionally so well delivered. Especially the scenes with Snape stood out for me each and every time, and I think it will be a while until I can stop thinking about these two tragic figures every time I think of this story. But for all the angst, there were really light and cute moments strewn in between, perfectly placed to keep the general mood but make sure the heaviness doesn't become unbearable. Just thinking of Jasper/Felix/Talbott in Arc 5, or the Late Night Trio in Arc 3 in Romania. Just remembering these moments among all the darkness really puts a smile on my face.

Bonus: If you know me, you know I love me a good pay-off and full circle moments. Seeing how well Late Night Curses - the "sequel" to this story - and all its themes was already set up here is just making me too happy. Especially with the epilogue under which I'm posting this review, it feels like the missing link between these two stories and how Talia has changed from who we have grown to know into who she's going to be in the future. And not gonna lie... I'm here for it 💛💛💛

Val, you did amazing. You wrote the longest fanfiction I ever sat through (AND enjoyed on top!), you created and shaped a set of beautiful and incredibly complex characters, and if you're not proud of yourself, my Queen, I'm gonna come for you.

Love you 💛

Late night enchantments - ch 100 - Into the unknow

Almost two years. So many hours of writing, magic, finding love, oneself and dealing with life. The story reaches its conclusion. 100 chapters!!!! A wild ride indeed.

[stuckybarton]

Sucker For Pain i

SUMMARY: You were new to the team, but what everyone didn't know was you weren't so new to the God of Mischief. CHARACTERS: Loki Laufeyson x Ex!Reader [Ex to Lovers again?] WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Slight Angst and horrible self-image. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 2,956 CHAPTERS: [1/3] A/N; Life happened and yeah, didn’t have much time to write. Not my best work for this mini-series, but I’m fighting through for this. Hope you guys enjoy~

PART TWO | PART THREE

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist

"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself the first moment you were escorted into the compound by Director Nick Fury. Multiple sets of faces both new and old had come to greet you. For a moment you wouldn't even believe that this is was the new life you would find yourself to be a part of from now on.

Years in the job for SHIELD before disappearing off the grid to get as much information about HYDRA, everyone had thought you had betrayed them and you had accepted that they would think so lowly of you after all the near-deaths you had to endure on the job. Even with the mission becoming more of a death wish, you had accepted the role Nick had given you all those years ago and now you were rewarded, immensely. A spot on the Avengers as part of the Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

The familiar face of Nat was the first to greet you with a hug. A fiercely tight one, it had been so long since you've seen a friend. Then your eyes fell towards the rest of the team; Bucky Barnes, who you had a few close encounters with during your time with HYDRA. You had witness everything they had done to him and stood on trail to clean his name. Steve Rogers, who, with Sharon Carter, had assisted in guarding Steve while SHIELD was still under HYDRA's control. But among the familiar faces, one stood out the most.

Loki Laufeyson.

To many, the man was a snake, a God that had once brought death and destruction in New York. But to you, he was different, this was the man that you had spent your lonely nights with while under the guise of a traitor. It had once just been a physically thing between the two of you, neither wanting to know about each other's lives. You knew he was a God, a man that had wronged the world, but he had never known about you, the woman that had painted yourself as a traitor for the better of the world. The one that had been called every name on the book for the sake of making sure you did your part right.

Then it got serious between the two of you. Admission of love was told between both of your lips. But it was dangerous for you two to be together especially when you were already told by Fury that you can come back to the surface. You didn't know what side he was on, and you did not have the heart to make him choose if the time would come.

So you two parted. A month ago. The pain still throbbing you like an unattended bullet hole right through your heart. It was still so painful to look at him and not remember him crumbling on his knees begging you to stay. The first sob that escaped his lips and forever haunted your dreams. A never-ending loop in the back of your head as your demons screamed at you for breaking an already broken man.

"I for one am happy you're finally here. Another woman to add to an already Man's Man world in the compound." Nat teased glancing towards the other individuals that had come to know the new face. "With introductions out of the way, you've got a lot of explaining to do for the past few years."

You could only smile at your friend. You did have so much to explain to her, things had been murky between you and Clint, but after everything, Nat had refused to believe you would betray them, betray her, and it was finally a relief to be able to return back home, seeing the people that mean the most to you.

"Tell me about it." You muttered allowing Nat to quickly pull your away from the crowd, but it missed your eyes how he was still looking. Ice blue eyes a contract to the burning gaze he had towards you.

Forget about him. Forget about him. You were here for a new opportunity. No him. Never him.

For the next few weeks, everyone had grown to accept you in your new role as part of the Avengers. You kept up with Steve, Bucky, and Sam during their runs. Sam more than happy to finally have someone that had the same pace as him, but only for you to laugh and out run him just to get a reaction out of the high flier. Tony and Bruce had also found a kinship in you, having provided them enough information about HYDRA's experiments and location made most of their missions easier. Then there was Nat and Clint, your confidant in this new life. Every single moment that was not dedicated to a mission was spent with them; may it be movie night or a simple get together outside the compound, often times bringing Wanda and Vision along just to mess with you and call you a 5th wheel of the group.

But among number of members on the team, everyone had noticed you constantly avoided one Thor Odinson and one Loki Laufeyson. The only real time you would even dare talk to either of the brothers would be during training--other than that, you tried your best to avoid them, Loki most especially. Every single moment that would force the two of you to be in the same room, Loki had a glare while you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Everyone noticed, everyone didn't seem to worry too much. It comes with having a former-villain part of the team. They thought you would eventually get used to the God's presence just as much as they did.

"You ever gonna tell me what's going on between you and Loki?" Nat inquired avoiding your punch.

What you hated the most about sparring with Nat was her capability of multitasking. Talking and snooping about someone else's business while also kicking their ass in the process--this was the predicament you were in right in this very moment.

"Nothing is going on." You muttered landing back first on the mat after being thrown like a rag doll by Nat. Eyes looking at the ceiling, you wondered if it was a good idea to actually come clean to her about her past with the God of Mischief. "I know what he's done to New York and I think you can't blame me for taking precaution when it comes to him."

Nat now comes hovering on top of you, the narrowed eyes and gentle smirk was all you needed to know--she knew it was bullshit. But when she had stopped pushing you for more information, it was enough for you to just change the subject.

"They found Dominic?" You inquired. One of the first big missions that everyone was focusing on was one of the leading Scientist for HYDRA. With the exposure of HYDRA to the world, some of them had moved away and found themselves in much shadier company, much to everyone's radar now spiking.

Dominic Wagner was, in part, partially responsible for the Winter Soldier program in the modern era. One of the pioneers in moving the project into a much younger sets of test subjects. You lost contact with the man as soon as your got back into the surface, but it had also meant a target was on your back when they found out you were a double agent.

"He's in Russia. Wasting away all the funding for the program with parties" Nat points out. "Still a better way to spend the money that abducting kids everywhere."

You nodded, memories of files upon files for the prospects still haunted you to this day.

"When are you taking him out?" You inquired. In your time with the SHIELD, the red in both of your ledger had made you two a hot commodity if the situation present itself as shoot to kill. Neither of you would hesitate. You knew you would now, after everything, but if it means one less bad people in this earth, you would swallow your new morals.

"Fury wants him alive." She pointed out finally standing back up to her own two feet, leaving you on your back, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. "I know as much as you do, we want him dead for everything he has done, but we need him alive so we can get the others."

You nodded, this was one of the few things you had to get used to as part of the team. Death was best solution in SHIELD--at least in your team, not here. As long as you were part of Steve's team, you would need to choose whether or not killing would be the best option. Hope that you weren't so blessed to be given in your time under.

"I get a first shot when we don''t have any use of him anymore." You muttered finally standing back up with Nat's help. Steps faltering at the sight of the God of Mischief, training with the likes of Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes. A weird mix up, but wasn't hard to understand why.

"Why don't you shoot your shots with him for now." Nat teased, finally making you break from staring at the plain black shirt and green sweatshort-clad Loki Laufeyson. "If we try to ignore the death count during his attack, he is sort-of your type in men." Nat wiggled her brows. quick to avoid you as you attempted to swat her in the ass, eyes now turned away from God and his training partners.

"By type, you mean psychotic with possible Daddy-issue? Then you might just be right." You snort.

"I'm offended you think of me as such, Darling"

Jerking your head to the owner of the voice, how the hell did he sneak up behind you without you noticing. You glanced at Nat in panic and like the traitor that she was, made a terrible excuse of being needed in Bruce's lab. Now being left in the man's presence, you could all but remember the last time you had been this close to the man.

Heartbreaks.

Words that you didn't mean.

Words that he didn't mean.

It still hurt you, and you were sure it hurts him just as much, if not more now, finally realizing why there had been a need for a breakup between the two of them all those weeks ago.

"Here I thought I would have someone to trust. You mortals continue to disappoint me." He hissed.

Your eyes glanced at the other training trio, noticing all three of them were in their own little world to even noticed what was going on between the two of them.

"Tell me, Darling..." He whispered, head leaning towards the shell of your ears. The familiar shiver run through your skin as just his voice. Memories of the very things his silver tongue had whispered had you flustered and breathless, more than from your earlier training with Nat. "Was it satisfying to play with a God?"

Before you could even mutter a word, his constantly gentle hand now covered your jaw, emitting a squeak from your lips and stopping you from saying a word. He was never this forceful, nor did he do anything that would hurt you. Was this the true nature of the man you had finally thought you have been the best part of you. To have loved a man that everyone was right to stay away from?

"Or is it shame finally coming to you, to be ever involved with someone like me?"

You tried to pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong--stronger than you could ever think of being.

"Or is this you taking your opportunity to move from one bed to another? Who will it be this time, Y/N? My oaf of a brother or will it be Soldier out of time? Who will you whore this time?"

And you finally snapped. With a resounding slap, all three individuals had heard your attack on the man and Loki finally releasing his hold on your jaws. A chuckle escaped his lips and only brought the first line of tears to fall from your eyes. You never wanted to believe him to be a monster, but here he was, proving her wrong.

"I am in doubt of the foundation of our relationship for the past years, Y/N. I am the God of Mischief and Lies and the only mortal I had ever truly opened to had done this to me. Lied to me for such a long time, lied about the entirety of our relationship."

"You will never understand."

"Oh no," he chuckled darkly, eyes glaring straight into your own. "I understand well enough to know, you would never love someone like me and I deserve every lie and heartache I am enduring because of everything I have ever done in my past."

Before you could defend yourself and the genuinity of your relationship with the God, he had made his excuse. Leaving you to ponder of the true damage of your breakup with Loki, and the aftermath it had now held for the both of you. He was right, you had lied, and either way, their relationship will fall apart because of those lies.

He was the God of Mischief and Lies.

Yet, he did not expect for this biggest lie to break him the most. The separation had been painful, he had always hoped for a better life with you. Then a month passed since your breakup, he sees you, it hits him like a sharp knife to the chest all over again. He experience the pain of a stab to the chest, but it would never compare to the pain of seeing you in this very compound with the truth of your life that you refused to ever open to him.

This was karma coming to haunt him it seems.

It had been well over a week now since the first time he had actually confronted you about everything. It wasn't how he planned for things to go through. He never wanted to hurt you, but he was a monster after all. A monster that his own father had told his people to avoid. A bedtime story to scare mischievous kids into submission.

He had always thought after everything he had to endure, had to do, had to escape, he could finally live a peaceful life. A life to finally start anew. A life where he could finally change for the best. A mortal woman had made him make those ideas come into reality, you had always became the reason why he would never have his redemption in life.

A bitter idea with no possible resolution.

How could he have ever believed that anyone would ever love someone like him? After everything he had ever done, he was never allowed to be loved. You had proved that somehow.

'Mr. Laufeyson, you are needed for a meeting with the team'

Breaking from his little bubble. He sighed finally returning back to reality, into the little comforts the library could give him. The week had been gruelling for him, three individual witnessed the altercation between himself and you. It had spread like wildfire, but thanking the Gods that no one was able to listen to the conversation.

He had to endure most of the questioning. In everyone's eyes, he was, after all, still under everyone's constant scrutiny. A man that no one could trust. But he refused to say a single word knowing you did the same thing. It was better to keep your mouth shut instead of letting people know exactly what had happened. Somehow that brought a smile on his face. He might not share a future with you, but might as well make the most out of making your life a living hell, as much you did it to him.

Shutting the book he was barely even reading, he placed the book back into the shelf before walking his way towards the meeting room.

He could easily teleport, but he preferred to enjoy his moments of peace without his oaf of a brother breathing down his neck or Stark constantly testing his patience with his quips. It also gave him a moment to school his features, he knew well enough about the mission to know you would also be in attendance. Be more invested in this mission than anyone else.

It was a few things he was relearning about you now that you were out in the open as everyone claims you to be. You were a free spirited being that could meld with anyone you were in the area with. He had watched you throw relentless jabs at Tony during your first few days that had the man surprisingly raise a white flag. But the most dangerous thing he had to learn was the familial relationship you had with one Natasha Romanoff and Clint Burton, two people that he kept his distance with the most.

"Professor Snape has finally graced us with his presence."

Loki has learned since joining the team to choose his battle when it comes to Tony. This was one of those moment. Finding a vacant chair besides his brother, he had taken his seat. A big mistake on his part as he finds from across the table, you sat. In between a glaring Romanoff and Barton.

Wearing a smirk, just to get on the two super spies' nerve, he turned his attention right back into the meeting. He begins formulating a few little schemes to not only get on the two's nerved, but most especially yours.

[shadowturtlesstuff]

You belong with me

so i decided to post wadsworth first. modern au cressworth- you belong with me taylor swift

Thomas throws his phone down on the bed with frustration swirling around him as he paces. I set down my pen and wait till he turns and spots me. We often find ourselves talking via paper throughout the nights, from questions about our day to helping each other study. It is also often we watch each other be angry at something, yet I've not seen him this bad before. Finally Thomas turns and catches my eye. He stands there for a second before smiling and I quickly move around my various workbooks till I find my notebook I use to talk to him. I take my sharpie and write: ‘Are you okay?’

I watch him shake his head ever so slightly, seemingly baffled at it, but he walks to his window and opens it. The wind brushes his deep brown hair and I can't help but want to reach out and run my hand through it. I curse myself for it as he motions for me to open my window. Moving my books and pens off of me and cursing at my stiff leg as I go and open the window. Somehow I manage to hit my arm in the process and I curse, which makes Thomas laugh slightly so I forgive my body for hurting me. 

“You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” he teases and I relax slightly because of it.

“Fuck you,” I scowl at his smirk and the frigid wind. His eyes light up at my temper. We live across from one another, if we were to reach out we could hold hands. Which we have done. When I got rejected from the specific school I was desperate to go to, Thomas had managed to climb into my room and hold me as I cried. He's only ever needed to climb over twice to cheer me up, the other times have been to study or watch some romance programme he thought was good. I hoped wherever was troubling was something that wouldn't resort to me having to climb over. As much as I would want to, my brain may have a hard time letting me attempt it. 

“I assume dear Wadworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” he asks, eyes focused on behind me and fingers tapping his window sill as he sits. I watch as his cat, ridiculously named Sir Isaac Mewton, jumps off his bed and onto his seat next to him. He grabs the cat and kisses the top of his head before holding him in his lap.

“Perhaps,” I say, moving so I rest my head on the wall, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” his eyes shift to mine and despite him still being angry they soften at my attempt at humour. I am not as good as Thomas at using humour to help someone, but he always does it for me. 

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” he smiles down at his cat. I remember the day he brought him home, he made me go over to his house and we spent all night playing with him. Thomas did, I ended up studying and making notes for the both of us while he gave Sir Isaac a ‘grand tour’ of his new home. The smile vanishes off Thomas's face and once again his gaze goes past me. “I assume you saw the call, well that was William. Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumour that I'm with Miss Whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I watch him scoff, anger once again taking over his features. His cat nuzzles into him and Thomas leans into his cat. If I wasn't also mad now I'd smile at the sight. 

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?” 

“Yes.”

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' I find myself standing and pacing, trying to quell my own rising anger. A year ago, William had been my lab partner for a few weeks, he was friendly, but people had got it in their head that we were somehow together, and he went with it. Gossiped about me, even Thomas, and then was somehow enraged I dared to stop those rumours and be angry at him. I'd come home one day when it was particularly too much, when my father had found out and lectured me about it, as though I was in the wrong for standing up for myself. He'd cancel my lesson with my uncle out of spite, and I stormed upstairs. Thomas had been at the window, as if he was expecting me. One look at his face made me cry. I managed to open my window and he'd once again climbed in and held me as I cried. Then he made us watch this awful romance film together and held me still as I fell asleep on him. 

“I have never once,” Thomas says, dragging me back from those awful memories, “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” He drags a hand through his hair. “She's just- a lot.”

I huff a sigh. She is awful. Had been awful to Liza and I for years. With her short skirts, high heels and the most rotten attitude I have ever witnessed. It wasn't often that I'd hate someone like that, someone so different from me in nearly every way, but she has tried to make me feel that I don't belong because of my interest in science and not the traditional girl interests.. “That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Beside, you wouldn't work, she's too- your,” I have no idea how to explain how excellent Thomas is, how wonderful his mind is and how kind he is. It's not a side he shows to most, yet if he was ever with someone like Whitehall, it would be disastrous. I take my seat again and find him looking at me, suppressing a smirk and raising an eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask. I shrink under his gaze, pulling my hoodie over my legs as I curl in on myself. 

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“Your absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” I roll my eyes as he shifts so he is fully facing me, eyes completely focused, no sign of the anger he had only moments ago, “your too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” don’t belong with her.

Ever since he mentioned the idea of being with someone else, real or not, I have tried to ignore how much it pained me that he would be with someone else. I never expected to want to be with him, yet lately the premise of dating him has seemed very pleasing to me.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” his voice is deeper than normal and his gaze travels over me even though his eyes are on my own. Thomas pats Sir Issac and his cat jumps off behind him with a whine. His hand reaches out for mine and I lean forward, wind making my loose strands of hair fly across my face. His hands are warm as I take them but his smile warms me more. It is small but genuine and filled with the normal Cresswell charm mixed with something I can't quite name. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.” 

“I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-” he looks down contemplating his words before he once again locks his gaze on mine, his dark brown eyes bright, “I dont belong with her, your right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.” 

I blink at the honesty. I want to scream that you belong with me; but if Thomas is in love with someone else then I suppose I will have to find a way to deal with it. I try to keep the hurt of my face even as he smiles at me. 

“I-” Thomas lets go of my hand and stands. There's a silence between us until he motions for me to move. The idiot is going to climb into my house so he can tell me about his new found love. Like the fool I am, I'm going to let him talk about this girl who makes him look this happy. Even though it hurts that it's not me who is making him look like that. Even though I'm the one who makes him laugh when he is angry or upset. Even though I'm the one who knows his favourite songs, the books beside his bed and all his hopes and dreams.

He climbs over and sets himself on the window sill, giving me room to sit across from him. I do, even as I try to ignore the weight pressing down on my chest. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I say and mean it. I once again curl into myself, hoodie covering my legs as i watch him continue to smile at me, 

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” I blurt out, my mind catching up, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

“Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” He starts laughing at my gaping mouth until I collect myself enough to scowl at him slightly for laughing. Thomas reaches out for my hand, moving closer to me until my back is pressed against the wall, my hoodie no longer over my legs as he rests his other hand on my leg, warmth seeping through me. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.” 

Silence washes over us as we stare, trying to convince ourselves this is really happening. “I have something to show you.” My voice is barely about a whisper and I slide out of his grasp even though I don't want to. I walk to my bed where all my notebooks were left open and my notebooks sits. I open it out and let a piece of paper fall out. Facing Thomas I open the sheet slowly, watch him read the words. His eyes lit up at them.

I love you.

I take my place beside him again, his hands finding their way in mine once again. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time. Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Thomas just stares at me, eyes flicking down to my lips every now and then. His hands are making circles on my leg, not entirely intentional. Thomas has always shown if he is excited or nervous by either tapping or making shapes on surfaces. The world slows completely as he leans in and presses his lips against mine. He pulls back ever so slightly, resting his head against mine and we are both smiling wildly at each other, pressing kisses until he leans further away. Thomas goes back to his side of the wall, which may as well be across the other side of the world, then he pulls me to him and I twist so that my back is against his. He holds me as we both look out the window, enjoying the freeing feeling of telling each other how we feel. 

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.” 

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black-blog @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore ​ @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto​ @throneofsc @bookscressworth​

[profnodanna]

Please do Mikoto Suoh for your character game 🥰

send me a character and i’ll list:

favorite thing about them: hard question. I've been thinking about it a lot. I didn't want to write something like "his tragic story" or "he's strong and cool", which I think it's something most of his fans would say. What made me love him was, in the end, his contradictions, that monstrous red which is also beautiful, that part of him captivated by destruction and that other part made by kindness, his being an outsider, someone who due to his nature can't fit in the society (and I think this is a strong theme considering how the japanese society is), his desire for a freedom almost utopic, that can't be reached.

I feel like Mikoto is a puzzle made of pieces that don't match, a flame you can't grasp, a spirit so free you can't restrain with any rule.

In the end, my favorite thing about him is he inspires very strong emotions, both in the characters around him and the audience.

least favorite thing about them: Sometimes he has the personality of a rock, but probably it's more a consequence of the combination of my high expectations and K-not-being-so-deep-after-all. Speaking only of his personality, I don't like how negatively he considers himself.

favorite line: “A guy who can only measure another’s foot by his own last is an idiot, no matter how quick-witted he is.” [ X ]

brOTP: MikoIzu (+Totsuka. I'm generally less interested in him, but you can't really understand Mikoto without both Kusanagi and him)

OTP: Mikorei

nOTP: Mikototsu

random headcanon: He got his first kiss from Kusanagi. You know, just the "two bros kissing for learning reasons nothing gay here" kind of trope.

unpopular opinion: The section is which it becomes clear why I have two friends in this fandom (and they barely tolerate me). Disclaimer: I (try to) respect everyone's opinions, but one thing is the canon, another thing is what is projected onto his character.

Nope, he didn't die because he couldn't live without Totsuka.

Nope, he wasn't an ass to Munakata and he doesn't deserve to be blamed for his (Munakata's feelings).

Nope, he is not responsible of anyone's feelings towards him.

Nope, he didn't die because he was depressed.

He is not "irresponsible" just because he doesn't conform to Munakata's standards.

His character is very interesting, but at the same time it is not so deep as I like to think. Mikoto's character was born with the idea to talk about the fate of the Red King, not Mikoto's.

He made a favor to everyone by killing the Colorless. Do you really think Munakata would have been able to imprison a fox-spirit somewhere? The same people who complain about how Mikoto hurt Munakata would now complain about how Mikoto dared to stay alive while the Blue King had to kill the Colorless, suffering the Burden of killing a King.

Nope, he's not gay (he wouldn't label himself in any way imho).

(I wrote the last one just to be annoying :P)

song i associate with them: In The End (Epic Cinematic Cover)

favorite picture of them: hair down + long coat = chef's kiss

[hughiecampbelle]

Presume (Shelby!Reader × Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas, Arthur, John, Finn mention

Word Count: 1,202

Requested: Tommy decides to throw a masquerade party (maybe to gain allies?) And little shelby, not knowing who the other person is, due to masks and such, begins to dance with the son of one of the other feuding families ~ anon

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @trentstonesobrienhoechlin @death-of-a-mermaid @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theshelbyclan @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87 @babylooneytoonz @peakyxtommy @locke-writes @lucillethings

A/N: I LOVE HOW THIS TURNED OUT!!!!! I really hope I could do your request justice my love, and that it's exactly what you wanted!!! I hope the wait wasn't too long either!!! I did make this entirely gender neutral btw! Is it obvious ya gurl had never danced with anyone besides friends? :P Ngl, I am proud of the storytelling!!! I always feel awful with fic requests because I worry I can never write them well, but I'm so happy with this!!!! Hope you like it my loves!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Gif Credit: @nofckingfighting :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

((FIC REQUESTS ARE CLOSED))

The watchful eyes burning into your back, through your skin, wishing they could set your insides on fire. Anything to stop you without forcibly dragging you from the room. Had to look good, play nice, be on their best best behaviors. Be professional. Instead, they stare, locked in by an image, a facade. No better time to push til they break. The glass already out of your hand, cheeks burning hot, tongue and teeth growing slow, sleepy. A drink, or three. Enough to give you courage. Teetering empty on the silver platter, calling your name as you slip through crowd, your shoes tapping the dance floor, picking at random. So many choices. One by one, lined up by their own kind. Blood had a funny way of tricking people, believing there is safety in packs, in numbers. There isn't. There never was, but they don't know. They will. Holding out your hand, waiting, and they take it, as if it were always meant to be there.

Do what you do because you can, because you're the only one who can get under their skin without the repercussions of a bullet between the eyes. They could try. Lock your bedroom door shut. Gloat and mock, the music, the crowds, all of the noise burning through the air all the way up. Too young. Just a child. Not ready yet. As if this business hadn't been your life since you were a kid, as if you weren't playing with guns and God the way other kids played with dolls, with soldiers. Toying with life and death before you could fucking spell it. It wasn't just a job, but the very thing that ran through your veins. That impulse, that thought, the rationalizing. It was all you, and you were going to show them, despite what they thought, you were as much a Shelby as the rest.

Their hands on your waist, close, closer than you inow any of them like. Your arms around their neck, the gentle sway you have so soothing amongst the chaos. Behind the mask there is someone unrecognizable, a stranger, the perfect distraction. A mask stolen, plucked from your brothers room, your door left open, broken, the lock heavy on the floor. A child may scream, cry, throw themselves on to their bed, thrash until they're red in the face and the festivities have all ended. You were not a goddamn child. Quickly, you dressed. Something itchy, uncomfortable, unwearable on any other occasion, but perfect for tonight. Grown up. Showing off every piece of you that made you look older, sharper, more jaded. Knife-like, a single touch a very dangerous thing. Down the stairs, scanning the first floor. Too many to count. Potential allies, and enemies, alike, all wanting a piece of power. Three familiar bodies, covered faces, but too easy, falling into their own imperfect habits.

John, Thomas, Arthur.

They hold you, their touch light, but intentional. Their hands nor their gaze ever travel, deserving a slap, a huff, a razor. No, they are shy. That much you can tell. Shy, even bashful, taking you in with every breath.A smile, that of innocence, of embarassment, and then, four simple words, whispered in your ear, barely above the violin, a voice that is far sweeter than you expected, honeyed with youth, hiccuped with wit. "I think they're staring." You don't dare look. You already know. Recognizing you soon enough. Good. You only shake your head, a head full of bubbles, and continue dancing. A stunt. That's what they named her, as if she were thoughtless. You'd never thought more about anything in your life. Not just the outfit, the picked lock, the alcohol, but your partner, the one you shared song after song with. You had your pick. Could have moved on, chose another, and another after that, but they stuck out, even behind the mask. They weren't afraid of you, or your brothers.

A party of class, wealth, legitimacy, all of these new things recently acquired by your family. One to gain attention, political allies, in search of anyone who wouldn't stab you in the back and leave you for dead. Far more people than you ever expected. All day, you watched Thomas' grand manor turn into that of a castle, one with a ballroom, rid of furniture, pictures, any evidence this place was a home, your home, at all. Other doors, places unused, unseen, locked. Careful, but not too careful. Your brother, always wary. One by one your aunt, sister, brothers, and their families come dressed for the occasion. Even Finn had been allowed to join in all the fun. You were geting ready, your hair undone, your clothes strewn across the floor. Tommy promised you there was no need to worry about any of that. The door slammed behind you before you had the chance to catch it. Your fists pounced on the door, pulling at the handle, your fury building. Of age, and still just a baby.

Alone now, you had time to think, to plan, to invade.

You weren't sure what was more careless: the fact they thought a locked door could keep you in, or that an event for allies could keep enemies out. The whole night you spent with them, your sweet stranger, one nameless, laughing at your jokes, your quips, unfazed by the cruelty, the hostility your words. Your mother tongue. They spoke the same language, one of cynicism, jabs at other guests as they kissed your brothers feet. In the end, they left you with nothing more than a kiss to your hand and solemn goodbye, never taking off their mask. The music dulled, the crowd thinning. Your punishment imminent, impending, cold hands tugging at your wrist, angry words quiet, hushed, threatening you with a lifetime of imprisonment.

A wonderful night come to an end.

It wouldn't be for a week or two until you saw that face again. Left out of another family meeting, a locked door becoming an old friend, left to wander the shop. You'd interrogate Finn later. For now, it was only you and the empty rooms. One by one you explored. A swesting glass of brown, the ice melting, on Arthurs desk, that of an early celebration. A drawing on Johns desk, illustrated from one of his young ones, colors scribbled and squiggled over his smiling face. And on Thomas' sat a pile of photos. All of them, thick black X's, drawn by his own hand, over their faces. A hit list. That of enemies, people out to kill. Get rid of them before they get rid of him. On the bottom, the dead rest. Towards the top were those he was hunting, the job not yet finished. One struck you, a slap across the face, one that left your nerves thin. At first, just another stranger. And then, a closer look. That smile, those eyes, you could almost hear their laugh, those words. Not a quip at the expense of your brothers, but their own watching your every move. Calculated, calloused, hungry. You hadn't even noticed. These days, enemies and allies walked a very thin line.

"I think they're staring."

You had to tell Tommy.

[justice4harwin]

Light’s Corruption- Chapter V

Pairing: The DarklingxAlina

Summary:With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.

After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.

Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.

It won’t be pretty

Rating: 18+

Click here for chapter 4

As usual, tags are in the comments. If you dont wanna be tagged, dont be afraid to let me know. If you wanna be tagged, let me know too. I dont bite...anymore lmao

Chapter 5: Heartrenders

Days went by, and they turned into weeks. The leaves fell off the trees, a crunchy sea of red, orange, yellow and brown, and Alina wanted to pile them all on and throw herself inside.

She'd do it the first chance she got, but for that she had to beat the gardeners before they took the piles and burnt them to depressing ashes.

She talked to Michail some more during they rounds around the lake and had her rematch with Natasha.

She lost. Again. She laughed it off. Again. Natasha said she hadn't been so easy to defeat that second time, to which Alina smiled almost genuinely. Progress.

Baghra refused to see her still, and Alina was too proud to go back to her, so she tried to practice on her own. She'd hide away on the far sides of the gardens where the other grisha rarely went to and try to gain more control. It was a slow process; the temptation to let her power run free and vast was always there and trying to tame that always left her exhausted. She had no trouble falling asleep, yet each day the bags underneath her eyes seemed to deepen, as did her appetite. Alina was pretty sure that summoning should be for the better, but more than once, she had thoroughly considered laying down on the cold grass and take a nap there instead of walking all the way back to the Little Palace.

The General wasn't back yet, and much to Alina's confusion, frustration and shame, she worried. Maybe that too had something to do with the bags underneath her eyes. She tended to dream of him in all kinds of scenarios, each less pleasant than the last. It made her wake up sweaty and choking for air.

More than once, she almost wrote to him, only if just to make sure he was alright. But he had to be. Otherwise, word would've spread quickly…right?

She always talked herself out of it though. His presence was missed, her mind was making up all kind of tricks to make her reach out to him like a pathetic girl begging for attention.

The thought reminded her of Baghra's opinion of her, which only strengthened her resolve to not write to him.

She had had enough of begging, enough of getting scrapes of affection from a man who hadn't even bother to write once; she wouldn't do it again, no matter how much her heart tried to pull her to him.

But then her eyes would drift back to the black, shadow rose that laid on her nightstand, the little bit of gold on its inside long dead, and her heart would race and some form of reassurance would fall gently over her, like a blanket shielding her body.

She'd reach out and take it in her hands. It had no thorns. Her fingers would run through its petals, as soft as those of a real rose, but with something deeper in there. There was something more alive inside that rose than in any flower in all of Ravka; it was deep, powerful, and dark. It scared and alluded to her in the same measure, and she'd stare at it fascinated for an unfathomable long time.

She wondered if The Darkling could feel her caressing his shadows; and how he'd feel about it.

Besides Michail and Natasha, Alina didn’t seem to be progressing very much. They exchanged niceties and some jokes, even paired up during training, but there was not much more to it.

She told herself to be patient. These things took time.

One early afternoon, Genya showed up on her room unannounced. Alina hurried to hide her rose inside her nightstand; she wasn't sure why, but she wanted it to be her little secret.

"The Queen just left Os Alta." the redhead smiled. "As did the king. They'll be gone for two days on a hunting trip."

"A hunting trip?"

"Yes, where they kill animals for the fun of it. Like one of those brutish size competitions men seem to like so much."

Alina snorted.

"So?"

"So…"there was a gleam to her friend's eyes, and the summoner leaned back and frowned slightly, almost scared. "I could sneak you into the Grand Palace and into Her Royal Bitch's wardrobe."

"We'll get in trouble, Gen."

"Oh, please; have some faith in me." she placed her elbows on the desk and her chin atop of her hands, almost looking angelic. "Do you really think I'd get you in trouble?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you're wrong." she straightened up and tugged on Alina's arm. "C'mon; there's so many gowns and habits: she rarely wears them twice. We're not stealing; no one will know."

"How many gowns?" she asked, genuinely curious. She had seen the queen on two official occasions, the first time when she arrived from the camps near Kribirsk, and the second when she was invited to her ridiculous tea parade. Still, she had seen her in passing a few times as she strolled the grounds. A part of Alina felt ashamed of the jealousy she felt upon seeing her beautiful clothes and jewels.

There she was, living in a palace, wearing a kefta and being pampered, yet she dared to want more.

"Hundreds!" the Tailor whispered excitedly. "And they'll look much better on us anyway."

She gave in a little to temptation. They would just try them on and leave them again. No one would know, and maybe she'd be satisfied then.

"Alright, alright. But we better not get caught."

"Don't worry, we won't."

They left the bedroom and ran down the stairs, Genya holding onto the blue sleeve of her friend as she rambled about all the different fabrics and patterns and accessories while Alina tried to keep up with her, listening to every word while watching her step. The last thing she needed was to trip down the stairs.

That'd be a sad way to go for her.

"You'll love it. I promise!" Genya turned to give her a smile, but Alina's eyes drifted to the looming figure appearing in her line of vision.

The Darkling walked into the Little Palace accompanied by Ivan, Fedyor and a third heartrender.

It was a woman, a little bit older than Alina probably, but only for a few years. She was tall, with long, brown hair cascading down her back. Her kefta, which hugged her rounded figure nicely, gave her away as a fellow heartrender.

The Darkling noticed them approaching. Alina tried to search something in his eyes, anything that gave away any sort of emotion that could cause in him to see her again, but she saw nothing but his usual coolness.

The Summoner and the Tailor came to a stop and bowed.

"Moi Soverennyi." they bowed respectfully.

"Miss Starkov, Miss Safin; it has been some time." he looked from one to the other. "May I inquire as to your present activities?"

"Nothing we're not supposed to do." Alina spat out, earning herself a dainty elbow to the ribs.

General Kirigan rose an eyebrow.

"I see. See to it that it stays that way."

"Of course, sir." spoke Genya, serious all of a sudden.

The man turned and contemplated the strange woman for a moment, then gestured at Alina with a gloved hand.

"This is Alina Starkov, our Sun Summoner." he looked at her, those pools of grey catching her breath. "Miss Starkov, may I introduce you to Nina Zenik. She is one of my best agents and has just recently returned from an assignment in Shu Han."

The woman's green eyes settled on Alina, taking her in. Something glittered in there.

"So, she is real after all."

"Would I lie to you?" was The Darkling's reply.

"You forgot to mention how pretty she is." Nina ignored him, taking a long, stealth step towards her and catching a tendril of Alina's dark hair in her fingers.

"Um, it's a pleasure to meet you." The Sun Summoner managed to say, nervous under the woman scrutiny.

"Oh, a pleasure indeed, sun bean." Nina smiled, amusement shining in her eyes as Alina's face heated up. "I can't wait to make your acquaintance."

Before Alina could even think of an answer -for the woman's pretty eyes were too distracting- The Darkling cleared his throat.

"Not for some time, I am afraid." he said. Alina finally turned her gaze to him. There was something dark and intense in the way he was staring at Nina's back, his jaw tense. "Miss Starkov has quite the busy schedule."

Alina felt Genya tensing beside her. Nina's eyes slid momentarily, as if she could see The Darkling behind her, and nodded, winking at her before receding.

"Certainly. I can only imagine." she turned a charming smile on him. "Should we discuss my mission in private?"

"Of course." he answered almost, almost too quickly. He made a gesture for her to go in first.

"See you around, sun bean."

Alina choked on her own saliva as she struggled to say her farewell.

Ivan left with them without even glancing in their direction; Fedyor was kind enough to give them each a courteous smile.

Genya was giggling like an idiot.

"Shut up."

Now she was laughing. 

During their training one day, Alina decided to pair up with her. Many grisha gave her a myriad of odd looks, and for a moment, Alina feared she might be about to face another Zoya.

Nina seemed to not to notice them and beckoned her forward.

People seemed to like Nina, Alina observed. The woman had charm and wit; the Sun Summoner really had to try to not get jealous of those traits. She reminded herself that Nina had been at the Little Palace for years, not one season and a half.

They circled each other, taking their measures.

Alina didn't want to be the one to strike first. That always had seemed to go wrong thus far, so she waited.

The heartrender went to the left, so Alina turned, only to be tricked as she received a blow on her right. She winced and stood back, more alert. She didn't want to make a ridicule again.

"You're small and skinny." the heartrender whispered. Alina arched an eyebrow. "I'm bigger and stronger, so your best option is to tire me out."

"I'm not exactly the fastest person."

Nina threw a punch and, luckily, Alina blocked it successfully.

She shook her head.

"Speed and resistance don't need to go hand in hand."

Alina didn't dare to look around to see if anyone else could hear them. She hoped not. Botkin would most certainly disapprove of his students giving each other advice on how to defeat them.

So, with Nina's words in mind, Alina did her best to block and recede. She tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to punch and kick, and received a wince and an "ouch" as Nina rubbed her calf.

The Summoner could feel everyone still watching, Marie and Nadia cheering her on; Sergei and Michail more reserved since she was fighting a fellow red sporter.

Then, Alina caught a glimpse. It was a second, and before she even knew it, she was taking a chance.

Nina was placing her foot down, twisting it as if to test it, and the next she was laying on her back, Alina having all but hurled herself at the woman, grabbing her middle section with all her strength and pushing.

They landed on the ground, and in the disbelief, the Summoner almost forgot to fully immobilize her opponent the way Botkin had taught her.

"You know," Nina gasped, the breath having abandoned her lungs. "There's better ways to get on top of me, sun bean, but if you like it rough-"

Alina blushed in embarrassment, both for having potentially hurt her and for the path those words were leading to.

"Are you alright?" she interrupted hurriedly. "Did I hurt you?"

Nina tried to laugh and cried instead.

"Shit, sun bean. You do have some strength in that tiny body after all."

"Alright!" Botkin clapped his hands twice, coming over toward them. "The little girl wins again, …finally."

Alina was almost offended. At least Marie and Nadia were cheering, as were some others Etherealki. She noticed Sergei and Michail exchanging some coins and scowled.

"Healer." she called, and one hurried to Nina's side.

"It's just a broken rib." the woman said, setting herself to work.

Nina raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm impressed, sun bean. I didn't actually think you'd win."

Alina found a new hiding spot where to practice her summoning. It was a most secluded corner, surrounded by old trees, an unkept stone bench and a dirty sculpture of a woman.

She really wanted to be offended.

With eyes wide, she forgot all about her practice, raced and jumped in, laughing childishly to herself.

She looked up and took in the warmth of the sun with pleasure, her face basking in it as her hands ran through leaves and sticks. It was actually a little uncomfortable, but fun.

She almost wished she could sink in and stay there forever, with the sun warming her body and the crunchy leaves all around her.

There was a big pile of leaves.

"Did you fall?"

A shadow took the light from her face, and she found The Darkling standing over her, looking down with something akin to curiosity.

"No. I just jumped."

"Into a pile of dirt?"

"It's not dirt. Besides, it's fun!" she extended a hand. "Wanna try?"

He huffed. Her cheeks heated up. She should've known better.

He took her hand and pulled her up, the mere contact making everything about him feel more intense as usual.

She held onto him.

"How did you find me?"

"You are my Sun Summoner; did you really think I would let you wander about the palace grounds unguarded?"

"Do you have me followed?" she had never noticed.

"For your safety."

"I thought this was the safest place in all of Ravka."

"I am not taking any chances with you, Alina." he replied, eyes guarded, face soft.

"Well, I've never noticed them."

"It means they are doing a good job. I would not want you to live scared, looking over your shoulder all the time."

"I might as well start now that I know."

He opened his mouth and then closed it, thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Alina wondered if he noticed what he was doing.

"You are right." he stepped closer, pulling a leaf off her hair. "But you need not fear, especially while I am on the palace grounds."

"Because not even the dumbest drüskelle would dare to cross paths with you?"

"Nor would the boldest noble."

Alina frowned. The nobles of Os Alta?

She nodded slowly.

"I have scared you." he stated, studying her face. "I apologize."

"No, no." she let go of his hand. "You just made me wearier."

"That is just how life at court is." he offered, not unkindly. "This is not just an army sometimes, especially for you and I."

Alina looked at him, questioning.

"There is no one else like us, Alina." he said, approaching her once more. The calmness, the facts were gone, replaced by a fire she wanted to step into. The vehemence in his voice made her shiver and want to take refuge in his cloak. "There never will be."

She thought about it. What exactly did he mean by that?

He reached out again and plucked another leaf from her hair, then took her face in his hands. She tilted her head up, desperate for a look into those eyes.

Her heart drummed on her ribcage, wanting to break free.

"I-" words failed her as he studied her face, like she was something unique he wanted to memorize.

His thumb ran over her lips, and she exhaled heavily at the feel.

"I forgot what I came here to tell you." he whispered in confidence, his eyes on her parted lips.

"I don't care."

One of his hands left her face and wrapped around her waist, pressing her against his hard chest. Alina almost gasped, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, hiding the conflict she had briefly witnessed there.

Alina made a choice.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He reciprocated immediately, holding her tighter and pushing his tongue inside her mouth, demanding a dominance she was more than willing to give him.

She had been kissed, but never like this. It was a first kiss that felt like the last; its intensity so beautifully crushing and chaotic. It was like he was a missing part of her, long searched for and finally found. It was like she was the most precious, addictive treasure, something to be cherished and corrupted at the same time.

Alina was willing to let him do as he wanted with her.

Her hands pulled at his hair, earning a growl. Their eyes met briefly, the desire in them fighting to see whose was grander, before kissing again.

It was like he wanted to pull her closer still, the barrier of clothes too much. Something told Alina that the lack of them wouldn't satisfy either of them anyways.

He kissed her jaw, travelling his way up to her earlobe.

"You make me weak." he whispered harshly, only to proceed to ravish the parts of her neck that were exposed.

"You make me strong." she answered, craning her neck to give him better access.

Growling, he gave her ass a hard squeeze and pushed her back against a tree. She could feel the tug and crunches of the leaves as he buried his hands in her hair but didn't care.

She wanted more.

And more.

She drew his lips back to hers. He reached for the belt which held her kefta closed.

"Sir!"

The next thing Alina knew was that she was standing against a tree, her back aching and her body cold, yet her face hot.

She looked at The Darkling, who seemed almost unperturbed as he smoothly fixed his hair and clothes, standing at a respectable distance from her.

Ivan appeared, seeming to be in a hurry.

Alina narrowed her eyes at him. As if she didn't dislike him enough already, the little shit.

"Moi Soverennyi, you are needed in the king's counsel immediately."

"Tell that grump I shall be there shortly."

Ivan bowed and left, not even acknowledging Alina's presence.

The Darkling cleared his throat. She turned her dark gaze on him, cheeks burning against the cold air, lips probably bruised.

What had just happened?

She wasn't sure, but she wanted to do it again. The Darkling, on the other hand, remained stoic as he stared into her eyes, as if nothing had occurred between them.

"I understand that you have been training on your own;" he said, as if he were talking to any other grisha, ever polite and smooth, voice reassuring yet commanding." I shall speak to Baghra so you may return to your lessons."

"But I don't wann-"

With him gone, the early winter sun felt cold.

"Miss Starkov." he bowed to her respectfully and marched away, disappearing from view within seconds.

Click here for chapter 6

[musedblues]

A Taste Of Honey (Part 2)

summary: A 1920's Deacy au! In which the reader, who comes from a family heavily involved in the American temperance movement, meets John, a bootlegger from overseas.

a/n: Well here it is. I'm fully aware interest may be completely lost in this fic but I'm very proud to have finished it. Im not sure where my writing journey will go from here. All I know is that this has been a very long time comin'... enjoy if you dare!

part 1 - 2

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"If anything happens, Deacy, I'll have your head!"

Ivan shook his fist from the front porch, illuminated by the light flooding from the opened front door. 

"I'll be fine!" You dismissed, skipping toward the car, still getting used to the sway of the heavy golden dress you borrowed from Alice. 

"I'm talking about my car!" Ivan shouted, correcting you. John let out a laugh at the remark, and gave your brother a nod, while he opened the passenger door, nudging you toward it.

Your brother and his wife had loaned the essentials to send you and John away for the party a man you never met was throwing. It was a small thrill, the prospect of such fun to be had, in comparison to the sickening exhilaration that coursed through you at the thought of spending any kind of evening at John's side. And the fact he'd asked you to. 

The ride was quiet and short, but dragged on with each new glance you dared to steal at the man driving. Both of John's hands relaxed on the wheel. A hint of that deadly smile on his lips. 

By the time you got to where you were going, you'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of the man by your side, that you'd nearly forgotten your plans for the evening.

If you had any expectations, they were blown clear away. Before you was an estate made up of too many windows to count, draped in vines and hanging lights. 

Even the crunch of the gravel that decorated the winding path you entered into sounded oddly elegant.

Inside was a fever dream of all the things you'd imagined on your short journey into the threshold. Across a giant winding staircase and below the shimmering chandelier were people from all walks of life, crammed together to have one grand time. Different music came from different corners and wild laughter filled the gaps, if there were any. 

And before you, John led the way. You couldn't recall the moment your hand found the bend of his arm, or if he cared that you'd reached out to him as he weaved through the crowd. But the grin on his face when he turned back to catch your eye had to be a good sign; despite the way your heart nearly burst at his look. 

John led you past hoards of people and trays of half full glasses. There was only one way to go, further inside the home, but John seemed to move as if he had an idea of where he was headed. Sure enough when the pair of you met the landing of the staircase, the host of the party was there to greet you. 

The host's initial booming hello was focused mostly on John. And without more than a glance your way, the party thrower shuffled John away from your side, insistent on sharing a chat with him on the top landing of the stairs.

You were left to linger, stalling at the base of the stairs and studying the crowd around you. Girls in beaded skirts and men with slicked back hair passed you by flashing well meaning but entirely distracted smiles. 

You'd felt mesmerized enough by the scene to slowly start to drift into it yourself. Reaching to brush your finger across meticulously carved bookcases and daring to take a glass from the extended hand of the first person to smile directly at you. 

You reached for the stem of the blue stained flute, and managed to make your talk small enough for the interested lad to wander far off. But offers kept coming. Glasses of this and that shoved in your face. You accepted the offers more out of respectful politeness than any eagerness to lose your wits. 

By the time you lost track of everyone's kind gestures, and a man was leading you closer to a table decorated with cards and chips, another hand intervened.

John was back, letting his fingers curl around your shoulder and nudging you in another direction of his choosing. Thrilling as it was for you, to have been handled just so by him, you were a little taken aback. 

Funny how after the sips of this and that, you felt steady as ever. But one look from John and your knees threatened to give out and all your cares too.

In the middle of the packed house, with John looking at you that way, you felt like the only person alive. And somehow this all added up to equal your new found courage to speak a little bolder than usual.

"Are you on strict orders from Ivan to steer me clear of any strange attention or do you maybe fancy me a little, John?" You dared wonder. You almost didn't care of the answer. So long as he kept guiding you through this evening with a strong steady hand.

"Both." John seemed to decide, continuing to guide you along. The pair of you had reached the patio doors by now, and the cool night breeze rushed through in perfect time to ease the heat that had rushed to your cheeks at John's response. 

"Let's go see the gardens!" You decided at first glance of the sprawling greenery that surrounded the estate. 

John let you tug him along, darting between couples and groups who'd come to ruin the fresh air with all their smoke.

He followed along, a very good sport, smiling as you pointed out flowers and trees you didn't realize could bloom in this part of the country. As you turned from marveling over a certain rose's colour, John seemed almost enraptured. Maybe not by your subject but certainly by some part of you. His gaze was fixed, and he seemed to bite back a wider grin. And your already lightened spirits seemed all the more weightless as your eye's met his. 

"If you keep looking at me like that, John, I'm going to have to kiss you." You let a small laugh escape, as the foreigners' expressions remained steadfast. 

He'd kissed you only the night before, on your brother's staircase. It was the only reason you felt free of regret enough to lean in and brush your lips against his again. John reciprocated fondly, letting one of his hands creep around the bend of your waist. You never realized it was possible to feel so happy. 

"Did you do that because you've been drinking? Or do you perhaps fancy me a little?"  John mocked your earlier statement, when the kiss died and your eyes locked. 

"Both." You smiled, charmed enough to try it a second time. But this kiss was broken much sooner than you reckoned any kiss ought to be.

"You know I'll be leaving soon. Just a week's more time." John killed the mood with a few words. You glanced to your feet and muttered understanding, noticing his hand still clutched your waist. 

"I just don't want to see you disappointed." John spoke up after a beat of heavy silence, and the words seemed hard for him to piece together, but he spoke them all the while. 

"Then don't disappoint me." You shrugged, glancing back up to the perfectly handsome man, who's smile seemed sad now.

"Come on, then." John said, moving his hand to find your own. "Not even I get to enjoy parties like this too often."

And you let him guide you back inside. You let the sun set on all the pretty flowers. And you let yourself feel grateful for the rest of the evening at John's side. 

///

He rode the train home with you the next day, sitting across the bench from you, and not saying very much. 

You felt the need to chatter at the pass of every few minutes. You got John to ramble a little about the other places he was due to visit in the states. The guy only one more stop at some.fancy hotel after your town, in the big city, next week. Then he'd head home. 

After explaining as much, the man went quiet again. But you couldn't let the silence last. It was as if you didn't work to hold his attention, it would be lost the next time you looked up. Maybe that wasn't true. But you couldn't risk letting John slip away so easily. Not when your heart practically lept from your chest each time his eyes met yours. If it wasn't meant to be, then so be it. But you were going to fight for the chance that you had, while it was still within reach. 

So when the train pulled into your neighborhood, and John stepped onto the platform, you stopped him waving goodbye. 

"Will you be back? To our shop, I mean?" 

John took a step closer toward you with a very serious expression that softened just before he spoke. 

"I wouldn't dare leave before telling you goodbye." He promised, in a low, sweet manner. 

John pressed his lips to your temple for one brief heavenly moment. And then he turned away to hail a cab. 

At least now, in your terrible mix of emotions, something very bright and warm burned within you. And you got to believe, for a moment, that the same reigned true for John.

///

But all was not well at home. How could it ever be? 

Your mother was horrified that you'd up and left for the night without so much as a word about it to her, and to your brother's home no less. 

Her disdain for her first born left you sick to your stomach more and more each day. 

But this was nothing new. You knew to give the woman a showy apology and to stay silent as she confined you to the kitchen table as she lectured about morality. Tomorrow things would be back to her regular sort of unhappiness. 

What really stopped you cold in your tracks that night, though, was the sight of your father stood in the doorway of your room with his arms crossed.

To bring a frown to his face was your greatest fear. For he'd loved you and shown it. And you dreamed of doing good by him every chance you got. As you stalled in the hall and waited for him to speak his mind, you hoped this would only be a reprimand for causing your mother unnecessary grief, for her madness made you all ten fold more miserable. 

"I know you've been with your brother..." Your father nodded with understanding, not looking right at you as he spoke calmly. "But that also means you've been with John. And I don't like that."

Oh. Ivan had warned you this might be your fathers mood. But you'd ignored his warning in hopes it wouldn't have been true. 

"You know John!" You countered, "You work with him! You're telling me you get to work with a man you don't like but I can't see him?"

"He's a fine man. But all wrong for you." 

"You're supposed to be the one who lets me find these things out on my own." You reminded. Your mother did plenty of directing you from day to day. Your father knew of what you spoke and nodded reluctantly, uncrossing his arms and looking you square in the eye. 

"Well not this time. Stay away from John, you hear me? He'll be gone before you know it anyhow." 

Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze as if to ease the blow of his demands. But as he walked back down the hall, the uncertainty that had stormed within you since John left you at the train station, raged wilder than before. 

What a jam... 

///

There was nothing stopping you from returning back to the depths of the coffee shop, the next time Ivan started up his business. 

Your mother was sound asleep, and your father was already there, serving the last of the coffee up top. Once you arrived you knew he'd be cross but unable to march you away. 

So you slipped on your finest dress and twirled down the rickety staircase that led to the party your brother charged for. 

There were already a good deal of friends jam packed into the small basement; dancing to swells coming from the gramophone and lining up to grab a glass from Ivan's makeshift bar. Your brother flashed a grin when he saw you sauntering in, but his smile turned somewhat more into a worried grimace when he saw you march up the man near the end of those overturned book shelves.

So was everyone concerned over your connection with John? Even the man who'd held your interest sort of frowned at the sight of you demanding his attention. 

John had his fingers curled around a glass. You took it from his grasp and the action made the bootlegger grin oh so slightly. But his frown returned after you slammed back the swallow of liquor in his glass- unsure yourself by what had come over you.

"Hey, come on, don't be that girl." Ivan called to you from behind the bar. You couldn't be sure if he was commenting on the way you'd claimed Deacy's drink for your own, or on the way you seemed too eager to get the stuff in your system. 

Before you could snap back at your brother's comment, though, John spoke up.

"Don't worry about it," He insisted in the charming draw of his. "Just pour me another." And as the man who you adored stepped past you to hold your brothers attention, John sort of let his hand brush across your waist. And he left his fingers to linger along your sides as Ivan, disgruntled, poured another for John. 

"Is that all you cut in line for?" Ivan sighed, nodding toward the few people, impatiently waiting to fill their glasses, stood in a row behind John. 

And you hadn't really considered this before your brothers prompting. But at his asking, you were moved to pull out a twenty dollar bill from your coin purse, and demand he give you your money's worth.

Ivan was reluctant, going on for a bit how once your father spotted you here, like this, that he'd surely be disappointed. And you didn't want that, did you? But little did Ivan know, you'd already disappointed your father. And you were determined to get something you wanted tonight, one way or another.

So with a sigh, Ivan poured you a tall drink and informed you were good to come back for a few more, to match your payment. 

So began your evening of ignoring John's worried remarks about slowing down. And as you kept the drinks coming you weren't even sure why. Perhaps it was to test your very own limits. To somehow prove you were more in control of your path than all the others who seemed to have something to say about the direction of your life. 

And damn John, for the way he kept his eyes locked on yours between the distance he silently kept insisting upon. And damn him for helping you find your balance, despite the steps he kept taking away from you. For letting his hands stay secure around your waist, long after you'd straightened up from stumbling.

And damn your father. He had to have been behind John's change in attitude. From the moment you'd met, John had been a flirt. And steadily, his quips kept getting bolder, until the last party you attended. Ivan's rambling about your fathers dislike of your fondness of John had to be what caused him to step back.

And damn your father, for finding you all dizzy in John's well meaning clutch, now. Your dad pointed to the door and demanded you find your way out of this scene. 

"I know you're not taking her back to your hole in the wall you've been staying at, in the state she's in." You father grumbled in a low curse, his eyes searing into John's. You tightened your hold on the fellow, shooting your father a glare all the same. He couldn't tell you where to go or with who. 

"Take her upstairs if ya like. But don't step foot past the alley. I'll be up in a minute."

After a shared look, John moved, pulling you alongside him. You moved,  happily leaning into him, disgruntled by the course of the evening all the while. Even Ivan seemed to shoot you a sorry grin when he noticed you being marched away, from across the room.

The alley was a little cold. But John's figure was warm. And as you followed his lead pausing just beyond the backdoor, you could feel this chance waiting to slip away. 

"You like me, don't you?" You wondered, turning to face the man you'd been so taken with since the moment he showed up at your door.

"Of course." John nodded, and answered so softly and with such care truly felt as though it were melting. 

"Then kiss me, John." 

"You're drunk."

"But we may never get the chance again. One or both of us are about to be beheaded. Either way, that'll make kissing hard to do from now on." You implored, letting your head fall to rest precariously on his shoulder as you finished your plea. You heard John let out a somber little chuckle as he dared to tighten his arm around you. 

And then you heard a shuffle beyond the backdoor, and let out a sigh at the timing of your father coming to ruin everything. 

But instead, the door bursts open to reveal Rita in a fluster. Her usually perfect makeup streaking down her cheeks. At the sight of the girl you'd always admired, a pang shot through your chest. But not immediately for her upset, whatever it was, but because you realized you'd failed to see your friend here all night, until now.

Before you could apologize, or ask what the matter was, Rita sucked in a breath and let out a string of words for you. 

"He was a snitch. He-he told my parents everything." She stammered, wild eye'd. 

"Who?" You begged to know, having turned away from John, but not having totally turned your attention away from his hand still rested on the small of your back. 

"The pastor's son. Cole. He- he said he was alright with this whole thing. But he... He told your mother. She's on her way here, she's-" 

Sound of a car roared closer, and the engine died away, drowning out the last of Rita's warning. For a second, you thought of making a break for it. But then the click of heels on the pavement seemed to count down your fate.

And then she stood there before you. Your mother, dressed to the nines, complete with her usual scowl.

You couldn't let go of John. Your nails seemed to dig into his side on their own accord. The pair of you stared ahead to the woman who gave you life, and kept you from living it all the same. She stood and stared too, almost like she was giving you a chance. And that was the scariest bit of it all. 

As time seemed to pause, John let your name escape him in a nervous breath, like a warning. Trying to alert you that your hanging off him wouldn't help. But there was no way you were gonna let him go now. 

It was then your mother decidedly sauntered up to the two of you, letting her eyes search your from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and back up again. 

When she let out a scof, you realized you'd been holding your own breath. And when you opened your mouth, willing oxygen in, or words of mitigation out, your mother decided what was next. 

Before you could blink, one of her strong hands was digging into your arm, and she was tearing you away from John's gentle hold.

And despite his caution earlier, you could feel John's hand still trying to keep hold of you, as you were yanked away. The sensation of being taken from the man's clutch was horrid, but what was more painful was the feeling of his fingers trying and failing to keep hold.

So when your mother tossed you aside, toward the brick of the coffee house wall, you were hardly affected; not like you'd only just been.

And when you looked up, after steadying yourself and dusting your stone imprinted hands of dust, John was stepping closer toward your mother. He shouted something at her, about how she didn't have the right to treat you just so. But before he could finish defending you, he was shut down.

Your mothers hand flew across his cheek, and the sound of the slap and John's shocked hiss echoed through the alley and caused something vile to rise in your gut. 

You pushed yourself from the wall then, indifferent to the dizziness you felt, desperate to reach out to the man you'd been so fond of; calling his name.

But your mother was there, more sober and more angry. And she halted your mission to make it to your man, digging her nails into your sides and forcing you in the other direction. 

"John I'm sorry, John..." You called past the lump in your throat. That was when Ivan came upon the scene. He darted from the doorway and did his damnedest to block your mothers storming off. 

"You're a monster. Let her go!" Your brother fummed, as your mother managed to storm around her first born, pushing you along. 

"I'm her mother. And I'll do as I see fit to keep my child out of harm's way." Your mother stated, almost calmly.

"You're no mother. You're a walking nightmare. She's not your plaything-"

"Word's won't fix this, Ivan." You said, reminding him that his defying of the woman only ever made her ten times more evil.

"I'll pray for your children, son." Your mother nodded, opening the passenger door of her car, and flinging you toward the bench. "They're going to need it."

You didn't look to Ivan, as your mother drove off. You didn't dare look to John. You only hung your head and cried silent tears while your mother peeled down the road. And the whole way home, she spat vile things about you and Ivan. Her own children. About your father, her beloved husband. And aout John, a man who, since his arrival, had only tried to help out.

You let your tears dry when the car pulled up to the house you'd never really felt at home in. And went willingly from the ride to the door, knowing you would get very far in the countryside if you dashed away now. You'd need a wiser plan. Still, your mother dug her claws into your arm and marched you up the staircase to your room, like you were a girl no oler to know better. 

"Stay here." She demanded after pushing your further into your bedroom, her fist around the doorknob, establishing total control. 

You expected to be banished here. What you didn't expect, however, was the return of your mother with boards to nail against your windows. You might've laughed if you weren't the one being all locked up. Wasn't this sort of thing only supposed to happen in twisted fairy tales? You're life was twisted enough, you supposed.

She left you there, trapped in the space that was meant to be your own, meant to be safe. As you sulked in silence, the memory of your mothers assault on John haunted you. The horrid sound her action resulted in. His gut wrenching reaction, the small hiss, his stalling in the place she put him in. 

And the way he watched you being dragged off, helpless and sorry for you. It was pathetic, the situation you found yourself in. So you let your tears bubble up again and you cried and cried; until exhaustion set in. Tomorrow was a new day....

///

There was a pounding at your door, loud enough to jolt you from slumber.

"Open up!" The sound of your father calling from beyond the hall stirred you fully conscious. In one swift dash you were stood before your door, jiggling the handle, feeling silly for hoping that would work. 

"She's locked it." You groaned. "Do you have a key?" Your wonder was nearly frantic, and so were you- trying still to twist the knob. At the sound of your fathers grumbled cursing, you began to bustle about for some hair pins, but quickly realized you wouldn'tve had a clue to how to finess the tools into working like another. 

Then you heard your mother. She  shouted down the hall, telling your father to get out of her sight, to leave you be. Shouting that you were better off confined. That you'd be locked away until she found the right reformatory to ship you off to. You knew she meant it. You knew she'd send you away without a care of your consent. 

"She's not a child anymore. You can't just treat her like a bad pet who needs training."

"I'm her mother. And I'll be damned if I don't do what's best for my child. I failed the first time. God knows you never cared about either of them like I care." Your mother spat, breaking your heart and your fathers too no doubt. 

Their bickering lasted a while longer, and you spun away from listening in to force yourself to think. There had to be a way out of here, out of this life. There had to be a way to a better world. 

And the best you could do was wait.  Until dinner. Wait until your mother brought you a tray of soup and bread, trading a few put downs before she twirled from your room. And then you checked the time, and counted down the hours to her always predictable nightly routine.

And you waited still, until your bedside clock ticked well passed after midnight.

And then you used a lamp to pry the nails away from windows. You could tell her bedroom light was out by leaning against the sill.

With no time to spare, you tossed a change of clothes in your purse, and the envelope stashed with tips you'd been saving for over a year. 

It wasn't a very long way down. With the help of a lattice panel and the dark of night, you found grassy freedom in no time. Your heart beat heavy as you crept toward the road. It wouldn't be safe, not until the city lights were in view. But your shoes were flat and your hopes were high.

Miraculously, no one stopped you. Not the truck who zoomed by somewhere still deep along the dark country road. Not the school kids on the edge of town, tossing bottles off the bridge. And not the sleepy clerk at the desk of the hotel you raced into. 

"Be here, be here, be here..." You prayed under your breath, hurrying to the room you remembered John booking. And right as you rounded the hall, the door of the room you'd been in search of opened. 

But the squeak of wheels gave away the presence of a maid, pushing her cart of cleaning supplies out into the hall.

"He's gone?" You sighed, stopping at the end of the hall, your feet aching after moving so ceaselessly through the night. 

"Whoever was here left a while ago." The maid stopped for a moment, looking to you with a sorry expression. "Around dinner time."

"Right. Is there a phone at the desk?" 

The maid nodded and wished you luck, and you thanked her for it. You'd need as much as you could get. 

The clerk who was still kicked back, sleeping, startled at your ringing the bell on the desk. And though they didn't seem pleased at your begging to use the phone, they let you.

It only rang twice. 

"Hello?" Your fathers voice was a pleasant surprise. Of course he'd gone to stay with Ivan, in the midst of all this chaos. 

"Dad, Im-"

"Where are you? Does she know you've gone? I'll come fetch you."

"No." You implored, holding up a hand as if he could have seen your insistence.  "No I've phoned to let you know I'm taking the train to the city. I've got to find John before he leaves. And I'm sure of where he is. I've got to try." 

John had told you where he was headed next, on your last train ride together. And you'd felt silly for keeping the details at the front of your memory... until now.

The other line went quiet for a beat. And you'd fully prepared yourself for your fathers disapproval. But then he just said,

"Okay." Your father seemed to realize the weight of your feelings, you thought, by his tone of voice. "I knew you'd get out of there, eventually." And once more, you could tell by his tone he wasn't just referring to the room you'd been locked in for the last couple nights. "Phone us again, when you're safe and sound. I know you will be."

At his blessing, tears sprung in your eyes. You were going to go no matter what. But to have your father on your side made you even more determined to fly out of this hotel, and to the next one you knew John was meant to be staying at. 

///

Booking a train ticket was nearly impossible. And if you had spent much longer pleading with the station, you would have missed the bus pulling up down the block, offering rides in the right direction. 

The couple hour journey was maddening, and thrilling, and terrifying all at once. You were on your way to change your life. No matter what John said, or how he greeted you; no matter if he fell into your embrace or left you in the hotel lobby, you'd never go back the way you'd come from. 

And luckily, you managed to find the hotel John had briefly spoken of, without much trouble. It was the grandest of the business booming on this side of the city. Folks flooded in and out of the revolving doors, as you considered the past set of days that had led you to standing before here with such an erratic heartbeat.

But you only stayed paused for a moment. Your feet were darting inside before your mind caught up with how close you were to the mission at hand. 

The lobby was just as full of people as the revolving doors had been, lines forming near the desk, groups fighting to fit their luggage into golden elevators. 

And though you hated to be the person you'd decided to be, you dashed to the end of the front desk, hoping the clerk would spare you a minute at most. 

"I just need to know if someone's booked a room." You begged to know, shooting sorry looks to the people you'd cut in front of. The clerk seemed to have no patients for you, but miraculously, another set of hands swooped in to help. Some nice older woman flipped through the bookings to find John's name, after you gave it, and came up short.

"What about Deacy?" You hoped all of a sudden, quickly beginning to lose your ambition the longer she shook her head.

You'd done what you could, rudely so. And scurried away so your unwelcome presence would no longer be in the way of things.

And as you sauntered away, giving one last pathetic glance about the crowded lobby, you reminded yourself that it was all alright. You might not have found John. But you were finally free.

And then you pushed through the revolving door. And past your ghostly reflection, you spotted a familiar set of grey eyes. 

John seemed to wait until your gaze registered his own, before spinning around to make it indoors. You ignored the chilly night air and pushed on until you were right back where you'd just started to leave from. 

There he was, before you as real and sure as the sun and moon.

"You never gave me a proper goodbye." You reprimanded through a growing smile. He'd promised to give you a farewell, once. 

"How about a rain check? I've got lot's more important things to tell you, as a matter of fact." The man you'd come to adore smiled then, and offered his arm. You held on without hesitation and managed to follow his lead through the crowd, to the room he'd been staying in.

It was a humble little space, his suitcase opened on the coffee table and a yellow lamp left on by the window. John shut the door behind you with a soft click, loosening the pale blue tie round his neck, as you glanced about the room.

"I came by. Your place, I mean." John admitted, leaning against the closed door, as you turned from admiring the wall art to face him.

"You did?"

And then John said your father had dragged the Brit along, that night he'd knocked at your door. John was outside with high hopes. But your mother had caught your father before you'd even known there was a plan. 

"So you did try to come and tell me goodbye." You laughed a little, kind of glad he wasn't able to. This reality where you'd run to him was much more befitting to the situation, you thought. 

"Well, no." John pointed, not laughing along with you. "I never really wanted to say goodbye."

You stood there, taking in the sight of him. Watching John's brows oh so slightly furrow upward, hope pouring from his expression. You considered the gleam in his eye and the way he slowly seemed to shift his posture a little closer to you. 

"So we haven't got to part ways in a hurry then?" You wondered. Asking more than if you could linger a while longer in his rented room.

John seemed to know what you were asking. He seemed relieved, too. His shoulders loosened as the man crossed the space between you, in no big hurry. It seemed the two of you had all the time in the world at your disposal, now. John took his time, reaching out to tuck away some loose hairs near your ear. And his smile grew steadily too. By the time the guy pressed a kiss to your lips, you'd been wondering if the dawn would be breaking any time soon.

But the longer John went on kissing you, the less you thought of the sunrise. As John enclosed you in his arms, all your thoughts were of the man you'd come to adore. 

And as laid next to him and closed your eyes to the rising sun, you couldn't recall ever having experienced such a bright morning. 

"So you're not too eager to head back home, yeah?" John asked, once you'd both stirred from a restful slumber.

"I think I found a much more suitable place to be." You smiled, referring to the spot you'd settled under John's arm. 

And it didn't take much convincing on his end for you to agree on catching the next boat across the pond. 

///

The other line rang so long you'd almost decided to hang up. Then your brother answered. 

"Helllooooo!" He sang in a chipper timbre, making you wonder if he'd been expecting you at exactly this time, or if he answered everyone that way.

"Well I was going to ask how you were but it seems you're so well I don't have to wonder." You laughed into the receiver. 

The morning was early, and a breeze blew back a sheer curtain, obscuring your view of the grey English morning. 

Ivan spent the next few minutes yaking about how glad he was to hear from you. And you were glad to listen. On your rather spontaneous journey overseas, you were bogged down for a brief moment, at the thought of being so far from your dear brother. But as he rambled in your ear now, you'd never felt closer to him.

Ivan asked how things were. He asked after John, and that mattered so much more to you than his concerns for your well being. And when you had had your fill of the attention being on you, you begged your brother to give you all the details of what happened after you ditched home.

He said your mother was as furious as expected. Said she tried to blame your brother and her husband for your running off. Said she tried to get the police to shut down the coffee house for hosting such an undignified business after hours.

"You should'a seen her face when she found out officer Willard was our most loyal customer." Ivan chuckled. 

"We did have to pay a fine, in the end, so she'd quit her raving. It was almost everything we'd saved away for the baby." 

Your brother sighed. And you cooed his name in commiseration. 

"But my friend who owns that estate, the one who threw that party John took you to," Ivan explained. "He was good enough to loan us a bit of cash to stash away." Your brother said the man tried to give the money away outright, as a thank you to Ivan for helping start up his own speakeasy of sorts. But Ivan was dead set on paying him back, one day.

"Now we can't decide to name the babe after him, or John." Ivan chuckled. 

"And what if it's a girl?" You mused. 

"That'll just have to be a surprise." Ivan said, and just then the line went dead. You called your brother's name with a little hope he'd come back to tell you more. 

But you didn't worry when the line went on buzzing. You'd see him and his darling wife and his child to be, one day. You'd see your father too, if he was still hiding out at your brothers place. Hell, maybe they'd all come over here. 

Maybe you'd build a life with John, in his humble little English flat. You certain felt at home, watching the guy of your fancy stay dreaming as the sun rose. 

John had been kind to you. He'd been your friend when he didn't have to be. He'd let you lean into him, and he laughed at your jokes. He invited you into his world and smiled wide the closer your ship rolled toward London. 

And he'd treated your shoes as if they'd always been stored in the middle of the welcome mat. John opened his space up to you, and asked every night for the first few weeks, if you were happy, if you needed anything more. Your answers were always yes and no. 

And he didn't need to ask for honey in his coffee anymore. You just knew to add a little in the warm cup you'd have ready near the place he liked to sit in the morning. 

It was familiar and it was sweet, and so was John. Maybe he liked honey in his tea, too. And dear God, how you prayed every year from here on out; got to be spent guessing at life alongside the man who'd thrilled you by wondering all your answers all along.

[anna-pixie]

//I do actually!! I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing a Prince Nuada x chubby shy/social anxiety/insecure reader? Maybe he notices her because she is mostly on her own? A little romantic or fluffy, some comfort in his own blunt way? :) I've been feeling down lately and Nuada (even though he's "evil") is my favorite character!! Plus he's cute so that is a bonus. Lol. If not I can pick someone else instead of him. :)

finally got this done, i’m sorry it took so long - i struggled to write for this character for some reason. probably just because i’m unfamiliar with him. i hope i did him justice, but if i didn’t please let me know, i’d love to try again! (i hope the end isn’t too dark, i know you wanted fluff!)

request: Prince Nuada x chubby shy/social anxiety/insecure reader? Maybe he notices her because she is mostly on her own? A little romantic or fluffy, some comfort in his own blunt way? :)

pairings: prince nuada x reader

warnings: violence, death, bullying.

*

Your leg bounces as you take a seat on the back row, chewing on your nails as you focus on trying not to breathe too loudly. Someone turns, their eyes passing over you as they look for someone entering the room. Your brain tells you that they’re looking at you. Oh, God. Do you have something on your face? You think that person is friends with Ryan anyway. Speaking of the devil, he strides into the room without a care, a smirk spreading across his face when he sees you sitting on your lonesome. 

He stops next to your seat for a moment, flicking your pen onto the floor as he pretends to be apologetic. 

“Oh, silly me!” He exclaims dramatically, and you hear a few giggles around the room, “I’m ever so sorry, fatso. Oops! I mean, Y/N.” He grins at you, baring his slightly yellow teeth as you look at the ground, begging yourself not to cry again. 

You thought you’d be safe from childish bullies by now, I mean, you’re in your last year of university Goddammit. But no, Ryan torments you relentlessly day in and day out. You already have enough anxiety, this was just the cherry on top. 

You let out a small sigh as your lecturer enters the hall using the door at the front of the room. He is followed by a few students, each wheeling in a podium with a glass case atop. You feel yourself getting excited, your professor has managed to rent a few artifacts to enrich your lecture today, you can’t wait. 

Ancient culture has always been your calling. From a young age, you were completely fascinated by it. It’s like your safety blanket, your comfort for when the world gets too harsh for you. You don’t even feel like you’re doing a degree on it, it feels like you’re learning for fun. 

20 minutes later, you stop taking notes to shake your hand out, it gets terribly achy when you write for too long. You listen to your professor talk about the royal crown of something or other, when he is interrupted by the lights suddenly flickering, before going out altogether. 

Your breathing speeds up and you try desperately to get it under control, your eyes widening in fright when you see the man striding into the room. Is it a man? If he is, he must be the strangest looking man you’ve ever seen. You realise he is speaking, but you can’t hear what he is saying, your mind is too loud. You’re screaming in your head, but you can only manage to choke on your quick breaths out loud. You see your classmates panicking, screaming, running to the back of the room. 

You don’t move, you can’t. You’re paralysed. You don’t even move as the white haired man kills your professor with his giant staff. You don’t move when you hear the thunderous footsteps behind you. You don’t move when a giant metal fist slams down beside you, tables and chairs breaking and wood chips flying all over the place. Some slice your skin, but you don’t notice. 

You only move when you feel warmth under your chin. A hand, you think. Your head is tilted up and you lock eyes with the creature that killed your professor. Skin as pale as the paper in your discarded notebook, lips as black as your hair. Your eyes trace the light scarring on his face, and only then do you register that his lips are moving. 

“You didn’t run, foolish girl.” His voice is low, unexpectedly posh, and dare you say - comforting?

“I-I didn’t run.” You repeat. Your brain is taking a while to catch up with the events at hand. This happens every time you have a minor panic attack. 

“I should kill you.”

“Oh.” Is your only response. Very good. 

“You’re shaking like a leaf.” His hand travels to your hand, sliding down before resting on your upper arm. You cringe as he squeezes slightly. Is he going to comment on your weight as well?

“I’m sorry. I-I couldn’t move. I… they probably wouldn’t have let me leave anyway.” You don’t even expect your words, and neither does this strange person whose face resembles Munch’s ‘Scream’. 

“Excuse me?”

“Nevermind, I’m sorry. I-.” You stop talking. You realise that you’re probably going to die, why bother talking and just embarrassing yourself more?

He points his bloody staff towards the door that the rest of the class had escaped through, “The ones who fled, they tormented you?” 

He is oddly perceptive, and although you had just witnessed him kill someone, you can’t help but find his concern comforting. 

“Yes.” There’s no point lying, not now. 

“Why?” You giggle sardonically, as if it’s not obvious. You wave your hands, gesturing to your body. 

“Please, elaborate.”

“Me. I’m asking for it, can’t you see? I’m fat!” You’re crying now. Isn’t that strange, you’re crying at this rather than the thought of your impending death at the hands of a weirdly attractive madman. 

“Your tormentors are nothing but cowards. Action should be taken with reason behind it. Do you think I would kill if not to achieve a goal?” You shake your head, too nervous to disagree with him, “Human bodies. They’re easily destructible. But they’re different. I’ve seen many humans in my time, no two with the same body. Being larger isn’t something that should be frowned upon. Look at my friend here.” You turn to the large blue monster guarding the doorway, “He’s absolutely hideous, to the people who ran away from him. An ugly monster, they say. To me he is precious. Everything that repulses them makes him special to me. Looks change, bodies change. Look at you. You’re beautiful.” A tear slides down your face as the pale man finishes speaking. 

“Wow. I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Stop crying.” He snaps, causing you to flinch suddenly, “Humans.” He tuts, shaking his head. 

“Thank you…”

“Nuada.”

“Thank you, Nuada.” 

He tilts your chin up once more, this time with the sharp end of his staff. 

“You’re not like them.” That’s the last thing he says to you before he leaves, taking an artefact with him as he goes. You listen to the thunderous sounds of that things footsteps retreating as you sit silently. What had just happened?

*

Everything went back to normal pretty quickly. You assume Nuada has forgotten about you. Of course he has, why would he bother remembering someone like you? 

Ryan’s tormenting only got worse, it’s clear he is suffering some severe issues ever since the ordeal and he seems to be taking it out on you. 

You accept that this will never change, until one day it does. 

You get home to a parcel on your doorstep. You don’t know what you’re expecting, it’s so beautifully wrapped, with a gold wax seal and everything. You shut your front door with your shoulder, unwrapping the parcel as you go. It’s strangely heavy. You peek inside once you open it, furrowing your brows as you see a large sheet with some beautifully written words on:

‘THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO COWARDS’

You pull the paper out, screaming at the top of your lungs and dropping the box when you see what is inside. The box hits the floor and falls over, the object rolling onto the floor. 

Ryan’s head. 

Just his head. 

You should be horrified, you know. However, you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. Nuada sure has unorthodox methods of comforting someone.

[maysbanks]

she moves in her own way. (jj maybank)

due to the ASTOUNDING response to my first jj fic which i have to say a huuuge thank you to everyone that liked, commented & reblogged, it honestly means the absolute world !! i couldn't wait much longer to start writing for my boy again, i have so many fic ideas and cannot wait to get them out to y'all. this one is shorter than the last, & the title is inspired from the song 'she moves in her own way' by the kooks (lol) but isn't necessarily based off of it, it's just something that i wrote up quickly bc i was in my feels™️ . also i feel very unoriginal with the whole plot and aspect of this but im gonna post it anyway bc i love jj lmao. anyway hope u enjoy !

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, drug use, violence, jj with a gun™️

summary: reader walks the fine line between either pogue or kook, though technically a kook, she ignores all social standings of the obx and jj maybank cannot stop himself from getting caught up in her whirlwind.

( gif isn’t mine! please let me know if it’s yours so i can credit you. )

Everyone seemed to have a different perspective of you, unsurprisingly. You weren't really much of a social butterfly, you kept yourself to yourself, really. Nobody in the Outer Banks knew much about you at all, other than what they had come up with in their heads. And while you tried your best to stay in the shadows, that only seemed to make you stand out more.

You were known for being the best of both worlds - not really a Pogue, but not really a Kook either. While your social status and family wealth suggested you to be a Kook, your free spirit and reckless behaviour fitted you better towards the Pogue style. If anyone were to ask you, you told them you were neither.

Why should a name define you anyway? You thought it was all bullshit, the stupid territorial arguments and the snide comments from both sides. You thought it was ridiculous, you weren't living in The Outsiders, for fuck sake.

You moved in your own way, simple as that. You wouldn't let anyone tell you what to do, where you can't or shouldn't be, it was a free country you'd say, middle finger salute ready to aim towards anyone who dared cross you. You were an enigma, wild and careless, unforgiving and unforgettable. You didn't necessarily like the attention, but you got it. And you knew it, and you played on it, too.

You had used your irresistible charm more than enough times to bail JJ Maybank out of trouble, despite your parents' protest. They didn't have a problem with the Pogues, persay, how could they when your dad been one half of his life before meeting your mom and marrying into the rich lifestyle; they just had a problem with JJ, as many of the parents on the island did. He was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, weed smoking, knuckles constantly torn, skin bruised, quick wit, sarcastic humour, daddy issues, you know the type. Kids loved him, parents hated him.

You were friends with JJ, you supposed. You spent your time with him talking about your days and smoking a joint, meaningful conversations turning into joking and general tomfoolery within seconds. With JJ, you were simply unapologetically you, and JJ never judged you. He never made you choose a side, seemingly content with the fact that you were a little bit of everything, though there was times when he teased you relentlessly about the Kook life, but that was just JJ.

And despite the social differences, him being a Pogue through and through, you technically a Kook, you were drawn to each other pretty easily. Not that you hung out all the time, but you loved every second when you did, usually joined by his group of best friends - John B, Pope, and Kiara. With Kiara a Kook herself but drawn more to the lifestyle of the Pogue's, she understood you more than anyone. You'd bonded a lot, and with each of them too.

JJ loved that you fitted in with them, like a missing puzzle piece. So perfectly, it shook him to its core. The pair of you were close, but he had no idea where he stood with you, like most people never when it came to you. You were like a rollercoaster, taking people for the most exciting ride of their lives that lasted a full three or so minutes before they returned back to solid ground. You'd given JJ a ride a number of times on your non-existent metaphorical rollercoaster, and he'd returned for another ride time and time again. You couldn't say no to that damned boy.

It was a blessing and a curse, the unspoken relationship you shared. A blessing because JJ was the best thing that happened to you, and a curse because that was your downfall. You never got attached to people, never given yourself the chance. But then JJ Maybank had come along, blonde hair and blue eyes, split lip and sharpened teeth, words cunning. You saw him as a challenge at first, the name Kook Princess haunting you as he spoke them, stood in front of you at the keg upon your first real meeting. He'd held a drink out towards you, smirk perfect on his pink lips.

You'd attended over a hundred kegger's in your lifetime, the Pogue parties more inviting than those of the Kook's. You danced and talked to anyone that came across your path, whether it be unknowing Tourons, unjudging Pogues, or unforgiving Kooks, you drew them all in. You didn't fit in with any of them, JJ had realised. You really did move in your own way, he thought. He liked that, he'd decided. And hey, you were pretty cute too.

On that particular night, he'd spoken to you directly for the first time in a long time. "Would the Kook Princess like a drink?" He'd asked, holding the red cup out towards you. You'd eyed the offended object, and subsequently him, too. He smirked at the attention. You had rolled your eyes.

"Don't call me that," you'd said simply, but taking the cup from his hands regardless. You took a sip, relieved to discover that he hadn't tampered with it in any way. You were still considered a Kook to most people, after all. You could never be too careful. "Thanks, Maybank."

And he'd blinked at you, lips suddenly raising to a sly smile as he shrugged, dimples winking at you as they appeared in his cheeks. "Anytime," and he'd spoken your name back to you and you couldn't get enough of the way it sounded coming from his mouth, and you realised hey, this guy is pretty cute, and the rest, as they, is history.

You were in the midst of another infamous Pogue kegger at the current, months after your first introduction to JJ Maybank and his friends, and you stood off to the side, listening to JJ intently as he ranted about the events of the day he'd endured. Starting from finding a Grady White sunken in the marsh, "A fucking Grady Marsh, they're like 500 G's man!", to discovering that the boat belonged to Scooter Grubbs, who had coincidentally been found dead that same day, to getting chased by two guys with a gun, to the finding of the motel key from the wreck and breaking in that same motel room, finding a safe full of money and a gun of all things, to their best attempt at laying low which, unsurprisingly, resulted in the kegger in the first place.

JJ was wild in his recite of the events, hands gesturing every which way as you watched him with your lips curled into your mouth, resisting a smile at his antics. When he finished he retelling, you raised an eyebrow and chuckled dryly. "So, complete and utter boring day for you, huh?"

JJ chuckled along with you, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief from everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. "Man, it was crazy," he muttered. He looked at you then, eyes sincere. "I wish you were there with us. It was like something straight from a movie, I'm telling you. I feel like such a badass with that gun."

Your secret joy at his confession of that he wished you were was short lived, as the last of his words sunk in and you felt dread build in the pit of your stomach. You stared at him, him so excited that he hadn't even realised your face had dropped, before you reached out and grabbed his arm, effectively halting his movements and stopping the hurried flow of words that were leaving his mouth.

"JJ," you said carefully, eyes trained on his as he stared, clueless. "Please tell me you did not take that gun from the safe."

Your heart dropped as you saw him falter, his lips helplessly moving but no words coming out. He held a hand up, as if to hush you, though you hadn't started to speak again, and then his hand had dropped just as quick as it was raised, his teeth biting down on his chapped lip as the realisation dawned on you.

"JJ Fucking Maybank," you spat, hands slapping gently at his arms, because you could never really hurt him, you just wanted him to know you were pissed. "Do you realise how fucking careless that is? How much trouble you could get into, if anyone knew you had a gun-" your voice trailed off, your eyes closing as you exhaled. "JJ, please tell me you don't have it on you right now."

His lack of reply was the only answer you needed, and your stomach churned as you stepped back from his figure, suddenly feeling sick. He followed you, though, not letting you get too far as he took your arms in his hands and tried to drag you closer to him once more. You shook your head, arms slipping from his hold as you glared at him fiercely.

"That's so fucking stupid, JJ. You could get into serious trouble with this, trouble I won't be able to get you out of." You warned, because you knew it was true. Your charm and looks could get him out of some trouble to its extent, but it was more so your parents wealth and status that got the both of you out of shit when you managed to get into it, and you also knew your parents would literally throw a fit if you got involved in something like this - carrying a gun was no joking matter. You stepped back once more, hand finding its way to your forehead. "And from a crime scene, no less. Fucking hell."

JJ licked his lips, standing back roughly as you watched, his jaw clenching. "Well I'm not asking for your help here, Princess," he taunted, the nickname sending a wave of annoyance through you. JJ knew it would. "It's not like I ask you to help me, you're just there. Thinking I need help, like I'm some fucking charity case, a fucking doll you picked up from the thrift store that was gonna be thrown out the next day."

You tried to protest, but JJ didn't give you the chance. "I don't need your help all the fucking time. I don't need your pity. I get that you won't understand because why would you? You're a Kook, you get everything you want handed to you on a silver platter. And you can argue and fight me about it all you want, but I know you know it's true."

He sighed heavily, hands running down his face in a sign of defeat. You watched him all the while, thankful that you had ventured off the outskirts of the party so that hopefully nobody had heard JJ shouting at you, your heart wrenching as his blue eyes settled on you. "I'm sorry, JJ," you said finally. You refused to cry, though the desire to at the sight of him being so mad at you tore you apart. "I'm just trying to look out for you. With the gun thing, with everything that I help you with. And I know I'm a Kook, and I know that my parents could afford to buy half of this fucking island if they pleased, but that doesn't define me. I care, okay? And I know I care a lot more than a lot of people in your life."

It was probably a low blow, and you knew it. But JJ took it in, let the words sink into his brain where they stayed there, his fists clenching at his sides. You crossed your arms over your chest, defeated.

"I'm gonna go back to the party," you whispered. "I'll see you around, I guess." You eyed his pockets, unsure of where exactly he held the gun. "Be careful, okay."

And even when you were angry with him, you still tried to make sure he was okay, that he stayed safe. There was multiple occasions you'd showed up unannounced, simply asking how his day was, if he okay, if he had eaten that day, stayed hydrated. At first the attention startled him, he'd never really had anyone look out for him in that aspect, and yet there you were, like an angel sent from the gods themselves, smiling down at him.

You cared, he realised. You cared so much that sometimes he couldn't take it, because he didn't know how. The most family he'd ever gotten close to having in his life was the Pogues, after losing his mother and subsequently losing his father too as he turned into the monster that he was, cold and distant, fists always poised ready for an imaginary fight, and he knew that someday the Pogues would even slip through his fingers. He couldn't let that happen with you. He wouldn't.

He'd started off in your direction, truly, he had. But then John B was grabbing him and averting his attention to him, and he focused on his friend, promising only a minute of his time. You were in his sights, stood a bit away, and he recognised the couple you were talking to as Sarah Cameron and Topper Thorton, Kooks through and through. He held his distaste back, and even held a drink out to offer to Sarah as she and Topper made their way past where he and John B were standing. Big fucking mistake, he realised quickly.

It had all happened in a blur of events, each little bit leading to big finale - as he watched his best friend being held down in the water, powerless to Topper who kneeled over him, hands forcing John B to stay put in the sea. Sarah was screaming at Topper, Pope was holding JJ back with all his might, Kie beside them as she screamed along with Sarah to let John B go. And there you were, suddenly beside JJ, gripping his arm tightly as you took in the sight with a horrified glare. JJ didn't even hesitate; the gun had been pulled from his shorts and was directed at Topper's head in the blink of an eye.

The fury in his veins was red hot and ugly, tearing through every part of him like a vice. This was the Pogues land, their side of the island, and yet the Kooks still thought they could get away with anything and everything - including, apparently, attempting to drown his best friend.

"Your move, broski," JJ uttered through clenched teeth. He could hear the screams of the crowd behind him, and he pulled the gun away from Topper's head and into the direction of the sky, firing two shots towards it as the crowd of people quickly dispersed, screeches sounding from all over. "Now everybody needs to get the fuck off our side of the island!"

He was shoved to the side as Sarah rushed to her boyfriend, telling him he was fucking crazy or something like that, he wasn't really listening. The shots rang in his ears, and the adrenaline of the moment soured through him. Kie and Pope were screaming at him, he could hear their voices distantly. His blue eyes were unfocused for a second, before they looked up, and there you were.

Sent from the gods themselves, once again. You looked vibrant, so insanely alive, lips red and cheeks flushed, eyes bright. You let out a shaky breath as you watched him. JJ clenched his jaw.

"He was going to drown John B," he thought he'd said, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what to keep track of at that moment, Kie and Pope's obvious disapproval at him literally doing the one thing they swore not to do, Sarah and Topper stumbling away from the scene in the distance, John B getting up and muttering something along the lines of he wasn't going to drown me, or you, simply staring at him.

Before he knew what he was doing, JJ had made his way towards you. The gun was still held in his hands, and you swallowed thickly as you eyed it. "You should put that away," you muttered. JJ seemed confused, before he caught on to what you meant and he shoved the gun back to the spot of in between his shorts and his hip. "You literally did the one thing I said not to, you tool."

JJ cracked a smile, small and uncertain as he gazed at you. You stepped closer to him, eyes glancing over his shoulder. "You really pissed them off," you said, meaning his friends.

JJ shrugged, because he didn't care about their opinion, he cared about yours. And if you hated him now, hated the fact that he was just some dirty Pogue who held guns against people's heads now, apparently. "I don't care about what they think," he spoke softly. You looked at him confused. "I care about what you think."

You smiled softly, shrugging one shoulder. "Topper was going to drown John B," you replied, matter of fact. "If you hadn't stepped in when you did, who knew what could have happened. Nothing could have stopped him." You bit your lip, hand reaching out and touching his face gently, thumb soothing over the worried line between his brows. "You did the right thing, J. A fucking crazy and stupid thing, potientally dangerous, but the right thing nonetheless."

"Yeah, that's kind of my go-to, if you haven't already noticed," JJ smiled, tongue running over his bottom lip. You rolled your eyes, though playful. "Look, I'm sorry about before, okay. I was a dick. I know you care, but sometimes that's what scares me."

Your eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on your face as your hand dropped from his face to intertwine with his own hand, his gaze suddenly becoming fixed on your linked hands, his other absentmindedly playing with your fingers that held his hand.

"It's like, you're this untouchable thing. I mean, you don't belong to anyone, you refuse to go by anything other than your name, and you're like this perfect mix between Pogue and Kook even if you do hate it and everyone knows who are you and they make these stories up about you, like that's how popular you are," JJ chuckled. "And then you hang out with me, you look past all the dirty Pogue shit, see me for who I am, and you care. And you care so god dammed much that it fucking terrifies me because nobody's ever cared that much before about me, so why should you?"

His hand left yours to remove the hat from sitting atop his hair and then run his hand through the blonde locks. You could see his tongue running along the outsides of his bottom teeth, the action causing a bump beneath his skin. He looked nervous than you had ever seen him before, and you'd both gotten into enough nerve-wracking situations together to compare. You sighed as your hands reached for his face, gripping his cheeks and forcing his eyes to gaze down at yours.

"JJ Maybank," you started, grinning softly. "You listen to me while I tell you that you deserve the fucking world and more. All this shit that you're going through, all the crap you deal with on a daily basis, you carry it so well that nobody would even know. You fight through each day and I don't even know how you manage it half the time. I admire you so much, J. And I can't help but care about you, even if you don't want me to. I care about you so much, that you wanna know a secret? It scares me too."

JJ gazed down at you lovingly, his forehead moving to rest against yours. You welcomed the embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you gently, as if reassuring himself that you were actually there.

"JJ," you whispered as you were stood in silence for a precise minute, neither of you daring to break the silence until you had. His blue eyes stared into yours, awaiting the next part of your speech. You swallowed your nerves down, figuring fuck it. "I'm so in love with you."

He grinned, his head swooping down before you knew it and his lips pressing against yours in a heated embrace that sent a sensation of butterflies to fly wildly in your stomach, bashing against your ribcage and taking your breath away. Shivers flew up your spine, and every hair on your body stood on edge as the kiss grew heavier, tongues brushing and teeth clattering, bodies pressed against each other as much as they could manage.

When JJ's lips left yours, you almost whined. JJ grinned cheekily, hands digging into your hips. "I love you," he breathed against the skin of your neck as he buried his head there, lips tickling the flesh. "I can't believe you just macked on me while I have a gun in my pocket."

You rolled your eyes and tugged gently on his hair, spurring a laugh from him as you shoved him away and grinned despite yourself. "Do not remind me, please," you warned him, allowing him to pull you into his side as you made your way down the beach. "I still can't believe you took that thing."

"I knew it'd come in handy though," he grinned, pulling you closer with the arm thrown over your shoulder. You wrapped yours around his waist, face squished in his chest as you shook your head.

"You're an idiot, Maybank."

[fayeimara]

Meant To Be || One For Every Billion

6. By My Side | Pt 5

It takes you just a moment to understand his last message but you're already looking up as the dots are being connected and there he is, walking towards you with a real smirk on his real face.

So when he reaches you, you immediately say, "Definitely cute." and watch his mouth drop as he blushes.

Pretty boy didn't think you'd say it, did he? People should really know better than to dare you.

Although he gathers his composure pretty fast, responding after a beat, "Not cuter than you."

You laugh and shake your head, finishing the rest of your drink before standing, "Do you want anything?"

"I'm good, I just had a milkshake from the snack bar on the corner."

He moves to let you pass by him, following your lead as you move to exit the lounge and comment, "That's how you got here so fast. Where are the others?"

"Decided to do their own things, I guess. I think Maki was tired. I don't know what Iwa-chan and Mattsun are up to."

"Uh huh." You had a pretty good idea. They're probably busy being some of the best wingmen ever. That or Toru just ditched his friends, but you don't think he'd really ever do that.

But he'd also be complaining a little more that they ditched him if he didn't have some sort of idea so... you don't know what to think. Which is becoming a constant issue in his presence but it doesn't feel bad or scary.

At this point, you're not going to question it. If everyone is okay and happy, then you're going to focus on the now. Toru is really good at bringing that out in you, you realize as you come to a stop in the warm night air.

Turning to face him with a smile, you ask, "So, then, any requests from the birthday boy?"

His eyes light up with excitement and he responds, "Yes, but it's a surprise!"

"Okay, but.. shouldn't I be surprising you?" You question as he starts to lead you away from the lounge entrance.

"You already did! Now I know we have all night to enjoy the rest of the park."

"Or at least until it closes in a couple hours."

"Then we can gather anyone who's still up and have a party in my room!"

"Yeah, that's real ambitious. We'll see on that but- what's first?"

He stops briefly when he sees a cotton candy stall and answers in his sing-song manner, "First, something sweet for my angel."

Oh he's so cute. Seriously. But you let him buy it for you before prompting, "And now?"

"And now," he looks over at you with a satisfied smile, "we enjoy a ride down a river in a boat." He reveals, just as the two of you reach the entrance to the small, peaceful dock.

"Don't they close the river rides after dark?"

"In ten minutes, actually. So we should hurry because it'll drop us off to our next destination."

You look at him in surprise as you both join the relatively short line. Did he have this planned for before, when he thought you were going to leave? It's a little bittersweet because that's really thoughtful but, it also makes you sad to realize that would mean that maybe he thought the two of you wouldn't see each other again until the next time you visited. It also made you question... Were you unintentionally pushing him away when you visited?

Or you're just overthinking as per usual and he just puts this much effort into it every time he's spending time with a girl he might like. Right.

The two of you reach the front of the line in just a couple minutes and listen to the instructions from the staff member who tries to hand you down into the automated boat. You say 'try' because Toru's hand cuts in between and he helps you instead, giving the guy a pretty condescending smile. He's not even threatened, just.. acting like there was no other possibility because, well, it's not even a contest. You can't lie, you like it.

You settle down and he gets in after you, pretty steady himself as he elegantly plops down into the seat next to you, his arms stretching forward for a brief moment before leaning back into the seat, shifting his legs forward, and placing his hands in his jacket pockets. And whatever he just did there.. that's pretty hot too.

As your boat moves away from the dock, you're struck by the romantic atmosphere of the ride. The quiet melody of the water you're gliding through, the trees dotting the sides of the river that sway with a breeze every so often, their branches reaching towards the water like the leaves are looking for a cool, gentle place to lay. You and Toru, under the stars that are peeking slightly out of the sky, like shy observers to your secret little adventure.

He isn't saying anything either, studying the environment and in his own thoughts you suppose, but you don't mind the silence. You do, however, offer him the cotton candy, tilting the base of the cone you're holding so it's angled towards him. He pulls a hand free from his pocket to reach out and grab a tuft of the cloud-like candy before popping it in his mouth with a smile.

"Do you think about where you want to be in the future?" He's looking up at the sky, head tilted back against the seat, when you look over at his question.

You bite your lip, considering what he's asking. You think way too much about it sometimes, you suppose. "How far in the future?"

He looks over at you in surprise, like he expected a quick answer instead of your clarifying question. Now it's his turn to think. "I guess in a few years, after graduating. What do you want to do?"

"What I want to do is probably very different from where I might be, I think."

"How so?"

You're both looking at each other, lost in another bubble together, so you try to be as honest to yourself as you want to be with him, "In an ideal world, I would either write or play volleyball. Realistically, I'll end up tied to... my family business more than I'd like. Which means I likely won't have the time or energy left to do the things I love."

His eyes are wide, you think he's realized he just turned a mountain, not a rock. Maybe even you wouldn't know what to say in response to someone who just said what you did. But then he surprises you yet again, "If you know what you want to do, what stops you from making sure that's where you end up instead, no matter what?"

"You know," you smile at him softly, "That's exactly the battle I'm currently fighting. So we'll see how it turns out, I guess."

"So," his voice turns teasing, "will you pick writing or volleyball, when you win?"

"Probably writing," you answer with a laugh, releasing the weight that just took a break on your shoulders.

"Why?"

"You love volleyball, right? So much that you can't see yourself doing anything but that for the rest of your life?"

He sends another shocked, wide-eyed look your way but you're surprised he doesn't realize how clear that is to read on him, how easily you figured it out really early in the course of your correspondence this past year. You tuck that away for another day and continue your answer to his question.

"I love both like that and, the way I see it, I'm lucky to be able to love more than one thing at a time. And because I do, they'll both always have a place in the future I want. So it's not really that I'm making a choice between one or the other, I'd be incapable of that. Volleyball will always be in my life, even if it isn't the same way it is now. It's just that I'll pursue writing as my vocation while continuing to enjoy volleyball however I can."

"So you won't go pro." He doesn't state it as a question but it sounds like there's still one in there somewhere.

"I don't think so. That's... a little more complicated."

He shifts to turn more towards you, pulling another piece of the cotton candy you're holding between the two of you and encouraging, "I've seen your videos, Y/n. You're as much, if not more, talented than either of your cousins."

You laugh again, "Aren't you a little biased, Oikawa?"

"Sure, but I'm still telling you the truth as I see it. You've already filled the gaps they lack as players, you almost seem to have none. You're part of the powerhouse teams in your region, even country. And you can only improve from there."

"Yeah. But it's not talent or skill or even anything about volleyball itself that makes me so sure about its role in my life."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I promise, I will another day. But I know it'll be a long discussion and I want to hear your answer."

"My answer?"

"Where you want to be after you graduate."

"Don't you already know?" His lips pull up into a confident smile, "Because you said it, Y/n-chan. I can't see myself doing anything but playing volleyball for my future."

"No matter how you get there?"

"No matter how I get there." He confirms, watching you with a tilt to his head, "But I will get there."

"Of that, I have no doubt. I've seen you play, too."

And like that, his smile twists into a satisfied smirk, "Just on video, huh? You still have to come to one of my games in person, though."

"Oh, I do, do I?" You're grinning as the two of you fall back into lighthearted teasing.

"Of course. I think there's still a thing or two I could teach you."

"I'm sure. Without a doubt."

By the time the boat reaches the end of its line, the cotton candy is completely gone, much like any space between you both. The two of you are just short of leaning into each other, your sides already pretty much pressed against each other for most of the fifteen minute ride, as you and Toru talked and joked about various things with only the blinking stars and swaying trees as your witnesses.

You take a deep breath in as your boat approaches the dock, starting to pull away from him slightly, but you also catch the now-familiar scent of some product Toru uses and it smells divine. It's the sort of scent that makes you want to lean into his chest or neck and just relax while he holds you.

Oh my god. You need to slap yourself. That was pathetic, right? And after just one romantic boat ride, holy shit. You still have another hour and a half to go unless you completely bail on him. And for what? Because you caught yourself slipping? Again?

Ugh. No. You're here to be a good friend. And okay, take it slow and see what else could be between the both of you. But that shit wasn't slow.

You've pulled away, physically and metaphorically, by the time your boat docks but you still accept his hand as he helps you off, blocking the attendant yet again. He doesn't pull away though and neither do you, so you're still holding hands as you and Toru walk to your next destination.

Just taking it slow. Right... Shit.

Turns out your next destination is the carousel. You two keep switching horses, messing around until you're politely removed. After which you hit up some of the rides like the one that spins really fast so that you're pressed back against the reclined wall, or the one where you sit in a claw that swings you up, down, around, etc.

Following that, it's mini coasters and then upgraded back to some of your favourite thrill coasters from earlier in the day. You tell him it's a completely different experience at night. After the first one, he agrees. So you two hit up four more.

By the time the two of you get off the last one, teasing and laughing about who was screaming louder (it was him, obviously), you only have a little over twenty minutes left before the park closes. So your hand finds Toru's, your fingers lacing together with ease and electric familiarity by now, and you pull him along in order to run back to the hotel through the remaining crowd.

"Why are we going back?" He's barely even out of breath as he easily catches up to race beside you, but you guess neither are you. Thank you, conditioning.

"It's a surprise!"

The concierge barely startles when he sees two teens just run through, raising his hand to call out before lowering it in defeat. You're already gone anyways. You reach the elevator bay and hit the button for your floor, thankfully the door to the middle one opens immediately with a smooth tone. When the two of you get in for the ride up to the top floor, the pace steadies and you're just looking at each other while you each catch your breath, then you burst out laughing again.

"Okay so you're still not going to tell me?" There's a little bit of mock attitude in his tone but it's washed away by his genuine smile.

"Just wait."

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor and you're pulling him out with the doors barely open. The two of you reach your room and you swipe the card over the lock, opening the door, pulling you both through and closing it in swift motions before letting go of his hand and running to the balcony.

"Come on!"

You look back to encourage him forward as you open the double doors and he strolls up to your side before you both step out together. Just as you reach the rail, faint music starts to drift up from the park's speakers, getting louder and louder until you can hear its strains clearly, playing the orchestral melody that indicates the park will be closing in fifteen minutes.

It's what you can see only from up here that you wanted to show him. Because with the music that plays, there are lights quite literally at every inch of the park that turn on in an incredible show.

Many people gather on the streets or at particular locations for the ground level view. But those are always crowded and honestly a pretty limited view of the show's true scale. It's the guests who have park facing rooms and know to stop for the view from their balconies at this time that experience the true and complete nature of the stunning spectacle.

"Wow." He barely says it, it's more like a word he releases with his breath, but you're so happy knowing you were right.

This is the perfect ending to an incredibly special day that deserves no less. You and Toru stand there, side by side for the full fifteen minutes, still under the carpet of stars that seem a little closer from up here. The two of you hold hands, arms and sides pressed against each other as you both lean on the balustrade and listen to the crescendos and decrescendos, glancing at each other with smiles and the occasional comment. Sometimes pointing to a corner or edge of the park laid out beneath you to pull the other's attention with a tug on your linked hands.

And when the music starts its final rise only to move into its final descent, you look instead at Toru and find him looking back at you. With your hands still linked, you lean into him further to place a soft kiss on his cheek, mirroring the one from a year ago, this on his other side. Then you lean back to look at his flustered but happy face with a soft smile and add your wish for him to your blessing-

"Happy Birthday, Toru."

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Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-ngl but that moment when Toru takes a seat in the boat was fully inspired by my memory of him at the Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa match, just after Iwa hops over the seat like wow, but then the way Oikawa stretches out from his previous position... just more wow. Sorry, I can't explain it. I love that scene (and the others with those two that follow) and I don't know if I'm the only one it stuck with like this...

A/N: Okay...time for the vent... I will be the first to say that I love Kuroo and Suna primarily, and both the Miyas are a close second.. but I DO NOT KNOW HOW OIKAWA KEEPS PULLING THIS ON ME like... this whole episode really got away from me again. I mean, I did like Oikawa as a close second to Kuroo (who's been my steady the whole time, js, it's unwavering) for a LONG time before being intro'd to Inarizaki but... then Suna just came in and turned my head until I was like.. Oikawa, who? But maybe this just goes deep, so I didn't know he was always still in there. He IS incredibly lovable after all, you can't change my mind about that, and I really respect him as a complex character and okay, yeah, I honestly can't remember who was my first between him and Kuroo at this point because I was simping for them both before I really even remembered their names (and was trying to avoid being teased by my bf for rewatching scenes with them since he had to bribe me to watch the show in the first place). Anyways, I don't know what I'm saying anymore since I desperately need to go to sleep, maybe for a whole day, so I hope you guys like this one! Because.. just, yeah. Toru <3 I guess

Taglist: @delusivist, @prettyinblack231, @kac-chowsballs, @sakusasimpbot, @hawkthekinnie, @poppi144

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Giving in. (Eleventh Doctor x Clara Oswald)

A Doctor Who fanfiction for #WhouffleWeek2020

Day 1: Jealousy / “How does that feel?” 

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Clara Oswald

Not sure if anyone would be interested so just tagging my lovely and amazing and very supportive friend here: @choices-bound​ 

I hope you will enjoy it.

Summary: After Clara being late for their usual Wednesday's adventures the Doctor becomes very jealous of what he have accidentally witnessed outside TARDIS' doors. Will he finally admit of being jealous and will act on his feelings that he is developing to his pretty companion? Or will he lie making the distance between them even bigger? And will he finally Give in as he promised once upon a time to another Clara, in Victorian London. And could this promise hold completely different meaning this time...

Words: 3189

A/N: I’m not sure who want to be tagged. This fic probably completely rubbish... but I wrote and rewrote 100% and I know I can do better, if I would have month or two to write and if my little baby wouldn't interup. But hope you will enjoy it a little bit at least :)

**Warnings: slightly angsty / SMUTTY / 18+ / NSFW / MATURE**

“What got into you,” finally asked Clara, when the tension became unbearable to handle. Her eyes were on Doctor watching him to pace around the console panel, mumbling something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch. His movements sharp and precise, pulling levers and pressing buttons with unnecessary force. His body stiff and his hands moving sporadically, while he paced quickly around the panel not saying even a single word to her.

That's a first. Thought Clara, while biting her lower lip. Carefully observing the usually cheerful Doctor who was visibly brooding.

She could sense how his somehow bad mood radiated from him and it took her by surprise. She could basically hear his teeth clenching, while he tried to keep quiet, sensing how his body shook from the unexpected emotions. Emotions she couldn’t quite recognise. Emotions he tried stubbornly to suppress by not speaking with her, and only occasionally casting a grim glances at her before turning away. “Did I do something?” questioned Clara, worrying when he didn’t reply. Worrying that she offended him in some way that she didn’t realise.

He noticed how she caught her bottom lip between her teeth anxiously. The nervous habit of hers. He noted. The habit that he noticed was driving him crazy. And no matter how hard he tried to deny this, it made his blood boil and his hearts thump harder. He swore quietly under his breath when he caught her stare at him with this big wide doe like eyes whole of confusion. Her bottom lip trembling slightly, tucked between her teeth in a most adorable way possible. And he could feel how his resolve broke by uttering the only response he could master.

“You are late.”

“What?” asked Clara taken aback by his unusually low and sharp voice with a deliciously dark notes in it. The notes she never noticed in his voice before.

“You are late,” repeated Doctor taking a deep breath, finally stopping to pace and leaning forward on the console panel. His hands pressed flat against its surface. His head lowered and the bang of his hairs hanging over his eyes. He could feel something what he didn’t feel in a very long time. Something what he shouldn’t have been feeling to his companion... his friend. Something what he could name with one single word. Jealousy.

Yes, he was jealous. And it was pointless to deny it. This is why he kept quiet, trying to ignore Clara. Trying to ignore the pang of jealousy he felt when he landed near to her house a half an hour earlier to pick her up, only to be a witness of how she let some other guy to kiss her on the corner of her lips before she awkwardly waved him goodbye.

“Sorry... kind of lost track of time,” she murmured lowering her gaze to the floor drowning her lip even further into her mouth, making him groan quietly from the gesture.

The truth be told she didn’t lost track of time as the guy she went on on a blind date was boring as hell. To be honest it was even quit the opposite as she counted every second till this awful date would come to the end, but she couldn’t just up and leave. Or could she?

She questioned, while thinking about the Doctor and how he possibly already waited for her as he did every Wednesday evening at seven o’clock sharp, while the date was dragging on and on till it was already past the time. And when he kissed her on the corner of her lips she froze on the spot in shock before rushing toward the Doctor, who had strolled into his TARDIS not even looking at her. And now he was angry... The angriest she ever seen him to be.

Or was it something else? she wondered watching him to meet her gaze before mumbling something and looking away. His brows furrowed and his lips dragged into a frown.

“Yes, I gathered it,” he seethed, when she asked him what did he said. His hand angrily pulling on the lever while another slamming on the console with a loud thump. Causing TARDIS to hum something grumpily before Doctor murmured an apology, gently dragging his hand over the surface. Clara's eyes widened and she strolled toward him, grubbing his arm and forcing him to face her. Feeling how her own blood started to boil from the way he acted as if she did something wrong.

“Doctor, what did you mean, you gathered it?” she asked, her voice raising on a few octaves while feeling rather frustrated that he turned his back to her again not able or not wanting to meet her eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Doctor?” huffed Clara.

“Do you really want to know, what is wrong?” cried out Doctor, swirling at the spot to face Clara, watching her to nod as if she truly didn’t have any idea. As if it wasn’t obvious how much it hurt him to watch her to move on with her life, letting him to be in it only one single day... one Wednesday per week. Watch her to go out on a blind date with some random guy and letting him to kiss her, when he couldn’t. Wait for her day after day, jumping from one Wednesday to another just for her to be late because she lost track of time... and feel unreasonable jealousy just because she doesn't think of him as much as he did about her.

“Yes, Doctor. I want to know. I need to know,” she pleaded, her voice thick from emotions. So many possibilities of what could have happened to make him angry. Was it her past, or her future? What did she do to the only man in the whole universe she couldn’t stop thinking about? To the only man in a whole universe, whose lips she craved to be pressed to hers taking her breath away. To the only man in a whole universe who was worth counting every second until their next meeting. She could feel how her heartbeats elevated, and she waited for him to speak with a bated breath.

“Do you? Do you really want to know?” seethed Doctor, hovering over Clara's petite frame. He was standing so close now that his hot breath caressed her soft skin as her lips parted readying reply. His eyes flickered to them, and before she could even master a sound, his lips crushed onto hers kissing her deeply. His tongue slipping past her lips meeting hers just for a briefest of moments before they pulled away panting. Their cheeks flushed and their lips swollen from the force of their short-lived but passionate kiss.

“You kissed me,” exclaimed Clara. Her rosy lips parted, forming a perfectly shaped “o”. Her eyes widened in confusion and shock meeting Doctor’s matching bewildered expression, who raised his arms covering himself, ready for a slap that never came. Meanwhile trying to find a perfect excuse for his action, but instead only able to mumble: “You were late.”

“Yes... yes, I was,” agreed Clara, taking a step forward toward the Doctor who hastily stepped back. His mind working with an extra speed trying to look for anything to say, but failing. “Do you know why I was late?” tentatively asked Clara, realisation slowly started to sink in, why he may acted so weird since the moment he picked her up so she took another step closer. “Did you see why I was late?” she asked, standing straight in front of the Doctor with him pressed against the console panel, swallowing hard. His anger dissipated, but the jealousy didn’t go away just got mixed up with the nervousness of the situation and the fact that she seemed in control of it now.

“Yes, I...,” Doctor cleared his throat nervously, tugging at his bow tie, feeling a heat of Clara’s body, watching how her brow raised studying him with curiosity.

“Well, Doctor? Did you probably get jealous of me being late because I was on a date?” she helped with suggestion. A devilish smirk now playing on her lips, while her heart was pounding inside her chest waiting for his reply. Her gaze not leaving his, watching how his eyes slightly widened as he tried to make a run for it, slipping from her and mumbling that they needed to go. Some places to see. Some people to meet.

Suddenly, he felt her gentle hand placed on his forearm, stopping him from starting to fumble with buttons and levers again. Making him to lean on the console panel while his gaze became hidden behind the flop of his hairs. Hands flat on the console, gaze dropped to the floor, and voice huskier and lower than she ever heard him to speak.

“Yes... yes, Clara, I did in fact seen your blind date... but no I...”

“Doctor...,” said Clara.

“But no I... I wasn't jealous. No... Not jealous at all, just...,” stubbornly said Doctor, trying to suppress the jealousy that he still felt. Still not daring to look at Clara. Feeling, that if he would she would easily crack his lie. He shook his head in disbelief of how easily the lie slipped from his tongue, not hearing her to call for him. His thoughts fumbled one over another, and she could hear him to gulp nervously, while he continued to speak.

“Just concerned...,” said Doctor still standing near to the petite girl who so easily inflicted the feelings he didn't think were even possible for him to feel. The powerful feelings that still made his blood boil from the single thought that she allowed some guy she just met kiss her. “Concerned about your safety. You... you just met the guy and he...he can be anyone... some alien for example. His kiss could have poisoned you for all you know.”

“Doctor,” Clara called louder the warning in her voice finally picking Doctor’s attention.

“What?” he asked, daring a quick sideway glance at Clara under the flop of his hairs.

“Doctor, how do you know that this was a blind date? Did you spied on me?” she gasped from even slightest idea that he did, not sure if this made her happy or furious... or both at once.

“No, no... I... I didn’t,” Doctor’s eyes widened. “I just...”

“What Doctor? You what?” Uttered Clara raising her voice and stepping away from him in disbelief.

“I just... I was getting impatient, so I came earlier and seen you leave for that date. You even didn’t notice me,” he said accusingly. “And it was clear from the way you acted that you even didn’t know the guy. You was all fidgety and... and blushing constantly,” Doctor spun to face Clara, storming toward her.

“Doctor, how do you know this was a blind date? It could be simply a first date...”

“I... I...,” tried Doctor.

“Did you gone through my messages?” gasped Clara, taking another step back with disbelief. Her body suddenly trapped between rails of the platform and Doctor's body, his hands catching hers preventing her from tipping over. And she suddenly got very much aware of his hot elevated breath on her lips.

“No,” exclaimed Doctor offended by the assumption, trying to push away the sudden urge to shut her mouth with the kiss. The single thought of her thinking that he would do something like that made him angry. “I seen your chat with Linda," explained Doctor. "Seen that you have agreed to meet this guy, when I was showing you a rock that looked like Strax's potato head. I seen how you texted him to meet today. You clearly was more fascinated and keen for this date, than to spend time with me,” said Doctor. His eyes dropped to her lips trying to overcome temptation to kiss her. His knuckles grazed against her cheek, feeling how her breath hitched. “Also why did you even take your phone with you? Are you so bored with me showing you around?” the change in Doctor's tone took her by surprise. It wasn't angry anymore, or nervous. It was... sad? like when you are about to loose something very dear to you, something what you already lost and just realising it.

“Doctor, were you jealous? Are you jealous?” asked Clara again, holding her breath while waiting for his reply. Bracing herself for her heart to be broken.

It took couple of minutes longer for Doctor finally to meet her gaze as if deciding on something. As if contemplating if truth would be to dangerous to tell or if it would be worth it after all. And with a deep low husky voice he finally did it, admitted what she wanted to hear, admitted the truth.

“Yes, Clara. I was jealous... I'm jealous,” he confessed with the sigh, not able to lie to her anymore.

“Kiss me,” whispered Clara, tiptoeing toward him. Her eyes on his, while their lips became only a breath away. So close to him that he couldn't resist the temptation. 

His lips touched hers tentatively at first, hesitantly. And he felt how electricity coursed through him, making his two hearts speed up their temp. Her taste was like something long forgotten, like distant memory from another life. Like Gallifrey's sunshine, sweet and bitter, like morning's coffee and honeydew melon and it drew him even more to her. Making him dip deeper, attacking her lips vigorously again and again, deepening their kiss and kissing her more desperately, moaning and groaning into their kiss. The one she returned fully matching his passion. Her fingers dug into his hair bringing him closer to her, passion for passion, desire for desire. And they couldn't stop even if the whole army of Daleks and Cybermen combined would appear at the doorstops of TARDIS and would demand to give them his true name. They couldn't stop as the passion was too much to stop now, while the words of love were swirling on the tips of their tongues, while they met in the passionate tango, to the pace of their lips colliding together. 

Doctor's hands slid along Clara's petite frame effortlessly lifting her up and sitting on the console. Her legs opened up to accommodate him. The desire that Doctor's jealousy and Clara's unfortunate date spurred so easily inside both of them finally freeing them from the fear and hesitation. Their kisses and touches are more bold and desperate. Both wanting so much more... both needing so much more.

Clara could feel how Doctor's hands moved up her legs opening them even wider, searching for a closer contact with her, while the heels of her legs dig into his back. They could hear how the fabric of her very tight skirt teared, but they both couldn't care less about that. Both desperate for even less clothing to separate them.

Taking that as an opportunity to get Clara out of her clothes, Doctor broke their kiss. His lips moving to the pulse point at her neck, sucking on it gently, but with precision that definitely would leave a purple mark on her sensitive skin. His tongue gently licked over the mark soothing her, making her suck in the breath, while her head lolled back with a delicious moan. His hands moving to the tear in her skirt, tearing it even further and letting it drop to the floor. His fingers hooking at the waistband of her tights pulling them vigorously down not caring for a slightest if they will remain intact. He kissed and bit her neck moving lower, making her moan and gasp every time his mouth or teeth grazed her skin. She thrusted her hips toward him, trying so desperately not to loose contact with something so hard and big pressed to her thigh, that she was sure as all hells in that and others worlds, that it wasn't his sonic screwdriver. The realisation that it is him so big and hard against her made her almost undone on the spot as specially when his long delicate finger slid beneath her panties. His thumb pressed firmly to her nub rubbing gentle but insistent circles over it, while another thrusted inside her dripping pussy making the scream mixed with moan leave her throat.

The sounds he elicited from her made him groan in desperation and the feeling of her juices on his fingers made him work on her with doubled effort, wanting nothing more that to feel her juices drip on his fingers.

“You are so wet,” he gasped against her skin, his lips moving up her throat. And he cupped her cheek with his hand, while pressing his forehead against hers. His lips just a fraction away while he whispered sweet nothings into her moans, helping her climb higher and higher to her heights until she couldn't hold it anymore. His thumb circling over her nub, his long delicate finger joined by another, working her faster and faster, kissing her sweet lips, swallowing the maddening sounds she made.

He could feel how her walls were clenching around his fingers, and he broke the kiss gazing into her darken eyes. His vision blurred by desire as he dropped to his knees wanting nothing more than to prolong her pleasure and to taste her. He kneeled in front of her like she was some Goddess of old times. His gaze meeting hers and holding it, while his hands dragged her panties down her legs, not able to keep his moan to himself when his tongue slide over her lower lips, dipping in just slightly and tasting her. The taste is even more amplified by her pleasure and reminds him of home. Of something that was lost so long ago. Of something for what he was looking desperately and finally found in the woman who was moaning his name. The name he had chosen as a promise. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.

He could hear her chanting it over and over, moaning and groaning it until it became too much to hold any longer. The crescendo of screams falling from her lips, while he was lapping at her dripping juices, drinking her nectar. He could feel how her legs tensed, starting to tremble, and he could see how her hands held into the rails of the console gripping it tightly. Her knuckles white and her head thrown back while the most powerful orgasm rolled over her again and again. He was licking her gently guiding her through it until he could feel how her trembling subsided, licking her for the last time, savouring her taste, before standing up.

His eyes fixed on her while he watched her catch the breath, his fingers toyed with the top button of her blouse, while she wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him toward her, feeling how his impossibly huge and hard length press into her thigh before he kissed her gently with a kiss, that held a promise. A promise, that he made her once upon a time: to give in, and now he was finally ready to held his promise.

[lareinenoir]

∆ The Unwanted Marriage ∆

Loki × Reader

Request:Hey dear! I loved your fic Monster. Could you please do some Loki x reader where they are in arranged marriage and Loki doesn't like her. But one day she got hurt by someone and he got in his super protective mode. And then some fluff. Please!!!!

Authors Note; HAD A BLAST writing this!!! Hope you all enjoy this Loki fluff! 💛

*****

"You don't have to kiss me when he says, 'you may now kiss the bride'. I don't want you to think you have to do that." Said Y/N

"Your attempting to make it sound like it was a requirement to begin with." He scoffs looking up from his pedistol. "I never planned on kissing you..."

Y/N continued to look straight ahead as the servants continued to hem and fix her dress. Her eyes watered a bit and her heart beat a little faster. He was angry with Y/N. Always had been. She never knew why, though. Their were rumors around the palace that he was broken. Still broken after the loss of his first love, two years ago.

Then his mother to the dark elves.

Loki made it clear that her (his former lover) name was to never be spoken. He was left to father their son, alone. The fact that she was forced to marry Loki, but now forced to be a mother as well. She hoped that for however long the marriage lasted, which was forever, that they could overcome their differences and practice raising his son together.

So, the day came to where Y/N and Loki, arm in arm walked down the isle. Y/N looked ahead because if she dare looked back she'd run. And when they stood hands held, she gave him a gentle smile. Maybe hoping he'd return it and give her a reason to look forward to this marriage. He did smile, but it was a forced one. His lips parted as he said, "I do." and Y/N did the same. "I do."

"You may now kiss the bride."

Everyone was cheering and Loki looked to Odin with a sly grin. "I think we'll save that for the consumation."

"Now introducing Lady, Y/N and Prince Loki of Asgard!" Shouted Odin.

And so it was. Or, so to speak. Loki and Y/N were walked to the room, maids, servants, ladies in waiting, lined up at their door with flowers and gifts for "after."

Y/N and Loki separated to opposite sides of the room. She sat at the vanity and he stood near the bay window staring outside with his hand behind his back. Y/N began to take down her hair, all the hair pins and needles.

"So, what do they expect us to do." She asked quietly, finger combing her hair.

"Wrong question." He stated "You," he habe her a sideways glance with emphasis on 'you' "want to know what were going to do. Because outside those doors they want to hear lavish moaning and witness me take your virginity. Usually their are people in the room to see it for themselves, but I convinced my father to give us our 'alone' time." He said bitterly

"What does the consumation symbolize? I've heard of it and I was promised my virginity to be taken when I was to be wed. My sister went on and on"

"Get to the point." He said coldy as he continued to stare outside down below.

"I mean...if it means nothing to you then...what does it mean, Loki?" Y/N asked

"To them, we are married. Under the Gods name we are married. The consumation means, that to us, we are one. When we consumate a marriage it means we are truly in love and in it for the long run..." He said. The his eye snap towarda her and a little smirk appeara on his face as he scoffs. "I will not be sleeping with you, sharing a bed with you, because I do not love you. I have no love for you and I will never have love for you."

"You don't have to be so cruel. I see how you are with your son and I know how much he means to you. I see the way you look at him, you love him-"

"And because of him I chose to marry you! I agreed to this ridiculous marriage because of him! Because every boy...every boy deserves a mother. Every boy needs a mother. So that is your job. Be a mother to him." He said with a glare, his fingers pointed directly at her and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Nothing." She nodded "That's what we do, nothing? And what do we tell those people outside our doors?"

"Our marriage is none of their business." Loki said "If you find any opportunity to take on a lover then I may remind you to help discreet. Whispers around the palace about how my wife decided to be an idiot and-"

"I know the rules, Loki." Y/N spoke up rolling her eyes. She was getting a bit fed up with his attitude. "If the sides were swapped and you took on a lover...a mistress, you'd be commemorated. In the last thousand years Asgard has been a place where men can do as they please in regards to marriage." Y/N made clear standing to her feet and pushing her hair to the otherside of her shoulder. "You'd think they'd change that law for the many of women who were forced to give everything they have into a relationship that clearly wasn't wanted."

"You think I wanted this?" Loki scoffed walking closer to her and she sfiffed her neck and stood taller as he peered down at her with a scoff.

"We both don't want this!" She exclaimed her jaw tightening. "You...you clearly didn't have any hopes or dreams of the day you were to be wed. I was promised a life of love and happiness with someone who respects me-"

"You know nothing of what I dreamed!" Loki says between his teeth. "You don't know me at all." His finger now at her chest as she backed into the vanity with her hands on the counter.

"Don't hate me. That's all I ask." Y/N protested softly. Her lip began to quiver and her voice getting tighter as she held in her tears.

And so, that night they did nothing. They went to their respective corners and didn't speak for the rest of the night. Y/N and Loki didn't have a relationship really. At least in her opinion. Three months into their marriage, Loki would bid her a "good morning" followed by a "How did you sleep."

In which Y/N would reply, "Well. And you?"

"Same as it is every night."

Occasionally Loki would ask, "What brought you joy, today" And that was every once and a while when he was feeling friendly. Y/N didn't mind it. She sort of liked it. Loki was beginning to feel it too a bit.

They slept in separate rooms and sometimes on occasion Y/N would fall asleep in her new son's bed with a book on her chest and him in her arms. Loki would walk in to bid his son a goodnight and catch her asleep. He would smile to himself and then tuck them both in. Gently placing the covers over them and walking out the room.

****

"I won't be here for bed time." Y/N explains as she sipped her tea.

"And why do you feel the need to express that in my direction?" He asked sarcastically as they continued to eat breakfast.

"For once Loki, at least attempt to listen before opening your mouth to speak." Y/N challenged making Loki clear his throat and set his fork down, giving her his full attention.

"Pardon me...I'm all ears." He grinned with a roll of his eyes.

"I won't be here because a few of the ladies and I are going out." She says appearing from behind the little divider. Loki gulped and stared at her. His wife was wearing a very revealing outfit.

"You look like one of the women at the Brothel." He commented taking his eyes off Y/N and looking to the side.

"For one night I am going to enjoy myself. You aren't going to take my joy, Loki." Y/N stated taking off the little crown and grabbing her cloak. "Read a story to him tonight and warm Goats milk. He likes it better than the cow." She giggled

He rolled his eyes and sighed as she walked out. "Just...just be careful. The dance festivals can get out of hand. I wouldn't...um- well- I just want you to safe." He warned.

As if he cared and Y/N sort of loved that. In his bitter way, Loki had been issuing sweet and concerned little comments here and there. The kind that would make a girl blush and her eyes dart to the deck so she didn't have to look him in the eye. And sometimes she'd catch a little smile on the corner of his mouth, so Y/N didn't hate him as much. There was still a warm spot in his heart no matter how much he tried to push it down.

Last week, Y/N put her hair in a different style. A nice half up half down with gold beads and it grabbed his attention. "The hair jewelry suits you, Y/N."

Then a couple more times later on in the week, Loki told Y/N "Thank you for telling my son stories. He has sweet dreams when he sleeps."

Loki laid his son to sleep and decided since he wasn't tired, he'd stay awake with a book of his own. It was only reading...reading the history of Asgard. The thickest book in the library, besides his mothers spell books. He knew the history. Page to page, but maybe just once more. At least that's what he told himself. Loki was waiting for Y/N to return home. He sat in her bedroom on the chair near the fire place waiting to hear those lovely footsteps enter the door.

"What are you doing in my room?" Y/N asked, stumbling across Loki's head resting in his hand as he blinked his eyes open.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. The book is shut and he rushed to his feet. "You're back."

"I am." She said with the hood of her cloak on her head. She spoke in a low voice and faced somewhat in the opposite direction. "Could you leave? I'd really like to get some rest. It's rather late...or early in the morning." She said walking to the door as if to lead him out.

He narrowed his brow at Y/N and reached out to touch her face. "Y/N...your face..." He was referring to the bit of red near her lip and cheek as it began to turn purple.

Y/N grabbed onto his hand to stop him, revealing scratches and burns on her knuckles and palms. "Stop!" She said still attempting to kick him out.

"Y/N, what the hell-"

"Please...get out." She says walking away from him hiding her hands a bit. "I'm fine, please just go."

"Who hurt you?" He asked, jaw clenching tight as she continued to ignore him. "I said, who. Hurt. You."

Y/N was too tired to explain. She really did just want to rest. The constant nagging about what happened during the festival, by Loki, was driving her crazy. "It was an accident." She almost shouts spinning on her heel to give him an aggravated glare.

He rushed at her, his hand, yet again, reaching to touch her bruises. "What kind of accident!" He roars, looking at her injuries with dismay. Y/N saw the fire in his eyes and he began to shutter.

"It was my fault. OK? I wasn't watching where I was going and I ran into his cart. I fell and that's it"

"Name! I want his name!" Loki said pacing back and forth. "What's his name"

"I don't know." She said with a little giggle. Y/N was more amused at how upset he was than anything. "Calm down"

"No! If you don't know his name, then I'll find him myself. I'll search-"

"Don't you think you're being a wee bit dramatic?" Asks Y/N with a sarcastic smile, still in disbelief. "I said it was an accident. Why all if a sudden-"

"Because!" He shouted and she tensed up a bit as her eyes widens. Loki finally took in a few breaths and closed his eyes to try and find the right words. "Because, I need you."

It echoed through her ears rapidly. Why? She wanted to ask, but she sort of knew. Y/N just wanted to hear him say it. Her legs shifted position and Loki bit his lip.

"I need you because I have no one." He shook his head. "I have no one left, Y/N. Besides my brother...you are all I have left."

She waltzed toward him with a bit of a gentle smile on her lips. She felt his pain and reached out to touch him as if to take some of it away. Y/N felt his arms creep around her waist, pulling her close and Loki bit his lip. He knew she understood.

"I'm not going anywhere." She whispers as their noses touch and her eyes close as she put her hands on either side of his face. Loki felt his grin radiating off him and nodded.

"I'll be forgiving this time." he said to her, eyes staring at her bruises and he brought Y/N hand to his lips, kissing her palm gently with his eyes still fixated on her. She got goosebumps and looked down. "Don't let anyone else hurt you, for as next time, I won't be so forgiving."

The End

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