#and it makes me incredibly happy cause i can tell a story through my graphics and give it the space i think is necessary

[alpinelogy]

few years back when i was still drawing regularly i was always really annoyed that i was not a good enough/fast enough artist to make multiple illustrations per post to tell a proper story how i wanted it. glad that now i can do that with my graphics even if its with a different medium :,,)

[joyfulhopelox]

Strawberries & Cigarettes

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (Soulmate!AU)

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of sex (once), swear words, talks about death of minor character, mentions of smoking (don't do it kids)

Summary: As a child you detested strawberries, convincing yourself that you have an allergy to them. But imagine your shock when you grow up and realise that your soulmate connection has to do with the wretched berry.

Word count: 7.7k

rating : pg

A/N: This is square 4/25 for the @bangtanwritingbingo (Square: Strawberries) I have not written something remotely angsty in a while so this has been a challenge but i did it! And i am somewhat proud of it! Thank you @mochi-molala @sunshinejunghoseokie for listening to me complain about this it has been a journey. And most importantly, thank you @min-yoon-kween for being a beta queen and trying to read through this mess and managing to make 3am rambles onto words. I really appreciated all the support and tough love! @yoonjinkooked, @sunshinekims and @yoonia thank you for being there and listening to my 3am complaints whilst i was getting this done, your encouragement has been a massive help!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

The sweet, fragrant, slightly tart taste invades your senses once again causing you to sigh in frustration. How are you meant to find your soulmate if this unknown taste is all you have to go by? You couldn’t even pinpoint what it could be, the flavour being unlike anything that has ever touched your tastebuds.

“For real now Y/N, what do you have against fruit?” Your friend, Taehyung, inquires. You’ve adamantly refused his offer to share a fruit snack. It’s not like you had anything against fruit, far from it. You loved fruit. It was just the wretched strawberries lying there innocently on the bed of other berries, tainting them.

“It’s not fruit! I love fruit, you know that! Remember that time we snuck out into your grandfather's garden to steal apricots?” Your friend snorts. He remembers that time extremely well. You ate way more than you should have and ended up with indigestion for days after that.

“It’s just…” you grimace, looking once more at the red offenders. “Those”

“Strawberries?!” It was Taehyung’s turn to grimace. “How can you still hate strawberries after all this time? They are the best berry out there!” As if to prove his point he reaches for one and pops it in his mouth. You look away in disgust. “Oh come on Y/N, give them a try. You never know, you may like them now.” He pushed one towards you. Glaring at him, you rejected his offer.

“Tae, you know I can't! It’s not that I don't like them, I am allergic to them!” He responded with an incredulous look but didn’t say anything. Reading too much into his look you go to defend yourself. “I am! Since I was a child!”

“How do you know?” He raised an eyebrow at you. Shrugging, you tried to find a good answer.

Truth is, you didn’t know whether or not you were allergic to them. All you had was a bad memory from when you were a child. You had a very bad encounter with said berries. It was not a near death experience by any means, and it was not an allergic reaction. You were just a child, excited at the thought of trying a new fruit and so in your exhilaration you shoved it a bit too readily in your mouth. The innocent berry happened to go down the wrong pipe and causing you to choke and your family to panic. Ever since then you had sworn to never touch them again, telling everyone around you that you were allergic. That way you didn’t have to face the shame of retelling this childhood story and they couldn’t try forcing you to eat them.

It happened so long ago that you couldn’t even remember the taste. You couldn’t understand why everyone around you seemed to find them so delicious.

“I- just do ok? I had a bad reaction to them a long time ago, and I don’t want a repeat experience” you shrugged hoping that he would not catch onto the white lie you had just blatantly presented to his face. Side eyeing you suspiciously, Taehyung made sure to eat the strawberry he had picked up, sighing in the most dramatic way possible.

“Well then, more for me” his mouth was so full you could barely understand him. Disgusted you pushed his shoulder playfully. “Ew, that is bad manners. Did your mother not teach you to chew with your mouth closed?”

Taehyung pretended to look thoughtful whilst still chewing. “Nope, now take a blueberry and shut up” he pushed the assortment of fruit your way once again, this time making sure that the strawberries were out of your sight.

“Thanks Tae” you smiled gratefully at him, picking a blueberry out. Before it could reach your mouth, a loud thump resounded from next to you making you jump. Surprised your fingers let go of the blueberry you were holding so preciously.

“Oh man, don’t waste food!” a voice you recognised all too well spoke, whilst a hand made its way past your face and into the bowl of fruit Taehyung had so carefully prepared for the two of you. Long slender fingers wrapped themselves around the green stem of a strawberry. You followed the movement of the hand holding the strawberry to come face to face with the culprit.

“Hello to you too, Jungkook” Taehyung sighs, his smile instantly dropping. “What brings you here?” His deadpan expression was a good indication of how happy he was to see him.

“Uh, it’s lunchtime?” Jungkook looked at Taehyung as if he had grown a second head. “Is this not where we are supposed to eat lunch?” disposing of the green stem of the strawberry, he pops it in his mouth. You wanted to grimace, you had enough of Taehyung making a scene whilst eating that damned fruit. Now you are forced to witness the office heartthrob lick his fingers clean of the fruit juice that coated them. Simultaneously expelling a moan so sinful it was definitely not appropriate for office hours. You doubted it was healthy for your heart.

“Yes, but you guys in the graphics team have a separate kitchen. You know, the one you took from us last year? The big fancy one?” Taehyung was still bitter about that incident. It had been his favourite break room to spend time in. The room was spacious and had more than just a few tables scattered here and there, divided by a couple of couches where employees could lounge during their break. There was also a terrace with a lot more space and a pool table. Most importantly,Taehyung’s pride and joy, a gaming room. He would get lost in there during his break, and sometimes even after work until you would come and retrieve him worried for his health.

That is where he met Jungkook, and that is where he ruined your life by introducing you to said office heartthrob. At the time your department and his rarely interacted outside of company meetings. You were working as a business analyst and he was working as a graphics developer. Your jobs could not have been more different from each other.

Truth be told, you had seen Jungkook around the building on more than one occasion. You had the chance to speak once at a company gala in a drunken haze, where you realised you had a lot of interests in common. But you only got to know him the second time you bumped into him, when Taehyung decided to introduce you two. His handshake and shy presentation told you he was too drunk to remember talking to you that night so you did not mention it either.

Once you’ve been introduced, his presence turned into one of the ones you sought out during lunch breaks, you became more aware of the rumours flying around the company. Out of all of them the ones you heard the most were about him and his love for “dining and dashing” all the women he had taken out on a date.

Normally, you wouldn’t be the person to listen to such rumours and allow them to sway your opinion of someone. But you had witnessed on one occasion how he had indeed left a woman in the middle of a restaurant and fled the scene. After that you wondered if maybe you should be more weary of him and his bad habits.

Talking to him in person was a completely different story. He seemed incredibly shy at the beginning, it took him a couple of weeks to be able to look you in the eyes. Taehyung would laugh and say it is because he had a crush on you but you doubted that. How could you believe that? Not when you lived in a world where lovers were predestined. You were born with a bond that tied you to someone else, a bond that's unbreakable. Your soulmate was made for you and only you. You could have other lovers until you found your true one, you have seen it happen on multiple occasions but once you found your soulmate and that bond was complete you couldn’t be apart from them.

Soulmates, a subject that ruined your life as soon as you became aware of it. At the age of ten you found out that all humans on this planet have a person they are meant to be with forever. A person that is yours, and only yours. At such a young age you fell in love with the concept. Fairies and princesses in the stories your parents would read you before bed, they all had their one true love. When you found out that you were meant to have one true love, a soulmate, you were beyond ecstatic. For years after, it was all you talked about and all you dreamt about. It all came crashing down when one rainy night your father had a car accident on his way home from work. The crash took a parental figure away from you. Aside from having had to deal with the pain of losing your hero, you also went through the misery of witnessing the painful heartbreak that comes with having a soulmate.

Your mother mourned for days, she could not eat or sleep, she withered right in front of your eyes. It was heartbreaking to experience your only remaining parent destroying themselves right before your eyes. You were only sixteen at the time and could not do anything to help alleviate the pain she was going through. So you helplessly stood at her side for another three years until one day, her soul finally gave up.

Her funeral was a relief for you, it meant she didn’t have to struggle anymore. The pain was gone. So, at the age of nineteen, you became an orphan.

Turning twenty and a struggling pen pusher, you met Taehyung in a cafe. You crashed into him soaking his expensive suit in coffee as you rushed out the door, late for work. Apologising profusely and promising to pay for his dry cleaning you gave him your number. That was the first time you had hit a stroke of good luck in years. Later that day, when a text came through from an unknown number you expected it to be an extortionate dry cleaning bill. Instead all that was written was: ‘Coffee’s on me next time (not literally though) haha.’ You couldn’t help but laugh, he gave you a place and time and signed it with Taehyung. That had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

For the first few years of your friendship you’d wondered if he was your soulmate; and so, despite your aversion to the concept, you two started dating. It was difficult not to like him, he was good looking and you two seemed to have a lot in common. It didn’t help that the sex was also great, you had to admit he knew what he was doing. But after one too many nights of netflix and takeaways at his apartment, which ended in his bed, you both decided that you were not the one for each other. So, two years into your relationship you separated. Fortunately, the friendship you two forged remained, your bond stronger than before. At the age of twenty three, you moved in together as housemates. It was the most logical thing to do, you were attached at the hip anyway and rent was too expensive for a single person to bear. Twenty four came and went, stressed and always low on money, when luck struck you for a second time the day Taehyung told you a position had opened in his team. You decided to apply and rejoiced when you got the job offer. That night you and Taehyung celebrated with pizza and champagne.

Here you are three years later having worked in the same company, being promoted from a trainee to a junior business analyst, and life couldn’t have been better.

There was one thing that bothered you, and that was the strange taste in your mouth that you had begun to notice. At first it was so faint that you didn’t notice it. As time passed, it got stronger and stronger, until you could not ignore the slight tangy, sweet taste that lingered on the tip of your tongue. It wasn’t a bad taste, in fact you quite liked it. You were just annoyed at the fact that you could not place it. You tried multiple foods which you thought may have a similar taste but none of them satisfied that craving. You hid this information from Taehyung for a while, not wanting to make a big fuss out of it until the day he found you rummaging through the fridge mumbling to yourself.

“What are you doing Y/N?” he stood in the doorway confused as to why your head was buried deep into the fridge. You jumped not having heard him move into the kitchen and looked at him in surprise. The sight that greeted him was something he was not expecting. The hilarity of your wide eyed expression paired with the cheeks stuffed full of cherries made him double over in laughter.

Mumbling something akin to “stop laughing at me, i had a craving” you stood up and walked to the table dejectedly plopping yourself down on a chair. Taehyung sobered immediately noticing the forlorn expression on your face and whilst still wiping the tears from his eyes he approached you and sat down. “What’s up chipmunk?” he could not resist making a jab at you. Sighing you started picking at a stray thread off your sleeve. You decided it was time to tell him what has been bothering you for months, despite fearing his judgement.

“Have you ever had cravings?” you turn to look at him, your expression so innocent that he could not make fun of you for such a trivial question. “Of course I have! All the damn time” he scoffed at you.

“No, no what I mean is; have you ever had a taste at the tip of your tongue, on your lips something that isn’t what you have eaten that day, but it is there continuously lingering in your mouth?” the more you were explaining this out loud the stupider you felt. Your own words were confusing even to you. But it seemed like Taehyung knew what you meant because in an instant he jumped up from his seat and looked at you wide eyed.

“Y/N!” the grin on his face intensified. “Do you know what this means?” he grabbed your shoulders in excitement. “It means that you have found your soulmate!” your eyes widened in fear, your body stiffened under his hold. Realising what he’d said, and how you felt about soulmates he backtracked quickly. “Nonono, it means you are close to finding your soulmate. It means you have met them at last!” When your frozen body refused to move he realised that maybe that was not the best way to phrase it either. But the damage has already been done. Wide eyed, you flew off the chair and rushed out of the kitchen towards your own room, slamming the door in the process.

You called in sick the next day, and the day after, not leaving your room until you were certain Taehyung had left for work. He tried on multiple occasions to coax you out of your room, but to no avail. You stubbornly refused to acknowledge him. Mulling over your thoughts in the comfort of your room, conflicted at the realisation that he was right. You had met your soulmate, just not completed the bond yet.

“Y/N, are you ok?” the worry in his voice broke your heart, but you were too absorbed in your own thoughts to respond to him.

Memories of your parents, together and apart, thoughts of your mother and her suffering, memories of you together as a happy family all swirling around in your head. It was all too much to bear, and in the end your brain gave up exhausted, only to wake up the next day and start all over again. For a week you stayed in your room, but when Taehyung decided that enough was enough he formulated a plan in his head hoping it would get you out of your room. If you refused to come out for him, he would have to resort to other methods. He would invite people over, he knew you would not be able to resist the temptation of being a good host. So that day he called your colleague and his friend, Jungkook.

Later on that night, you laid in bed, thoughts ruminating through your head at a fast pace when you heard voices from the entrance. You could easily recognise Taehyung’s voice, the low timbre echoing through the house. It was the second voice that you could not pinpoint, and so, intrigued you got off the bed.

Your joints ached, having sat in the same position for so long and your head hurt from exhaustion. You knew you probably looked like a mess but curiosity was eating at your insides. So you took the chance and opened the door slightly trying to peek into the corridor. Unfortunately, your room was the first along the corridor, right around the corner from the kitchen. The kitchen where Taehyung and his mysterious companion were now exiting from. Your delayed reaction ended up with them coming around the corner almost bumping into you. Gasping, your eyes took in the unknown person whose voice drew you out of your miserable state.

“Jungkook '' you yelped. Startled at the intrusion, you slammed the door in their faces, your back now leaning against the door. You didn’t ponder too much on Jungkook’s shocked expression or Taehyung’s pleased one. Your heart was pounding, and for a second the blood rush from the adrenaline made your ears ring and your lips tingle. You were so focused on your embarrassment that you didn’t even notice the lingering sweet taste residing on your tongue.

Sliding against the door to keep yourself from falling you tried to regulate your heartbeat by taking a few deep breaths in. After a few moments, your eyes opened and took in the darkness of your room. Deciding that you were calm enough you got up, your legs slightly wobbly from crouching for so long. Turning on the light you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was in disarray, your skin looked dull and the red that rimmed your eyes accentuated the eyebags under them. Grimacing at your appearance, you patted your hair trying to make it look more presentable only to give up after a few minutes. Throwing another worried glance at your door, as if you were expecting the boys to barge in at any moment, you contemplated going out there. You sighed deciding that you didn’t care if Jungkook would think you were impolite, you were not ready to face the world.

For the next couple of hours you tried to distract yourself from your thoughts accompanied by the loud hollers coming from the living room where the boys were playing video games. Too absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t realise how late it had gotten, the rumbling of your stomach waking you up from your trance.

Opening the door you listened intently but there were no sounds coming from the living room. You assumed the boys had finally fallen asleep do as quietly as you could you tiptoed to the kitchen. The corridor was dark, the only light coming from the TV in the living room where you assumed the boys had passed out. Turning on the light in the kitchen you contemplated stealing Taehyung’s last pack of ramen when a voice from behind startled you.

“What are you doing?” you yelped, not having expected to have company.

Jungkook stood in the middle of the doorway, his eyes bleary with sleep, his hair poofed up and judging by the groggy voice, still half asleep. You tried to ignore the way your heart somersaulted at the sight of his messy hair, the way his hooded eyes were blinking sleepily at you and the way his small yawn made him resemble a rabbit. He was adorable and for a second you entertained the thought of telling him that.

“Food” was all you finally replied, secretly trying to fix your messy appearance. Jungkook hummed in acknowledgment. You looked away trying to ignore his eyes on you. The silence that followed was awkward, neither of you knew what to say. “Uh, I don’t know if that rascal fed you but uh….would you like some ramen?” you stuttered trying to break the awkwardness. His stomach growled as if prepared for your question. You stared at him in shock for a couple of seconds before you burst into laughter.

Jungkook smiled at you bashfully, too embarrassed to respond so you took it upon yourself and pulled another chair out for him to sit in.

The silence that ensued was comforting, neither you nor Jungkook feeling the need to interrupt it with small talk. You observed amusedly the way his eyes seemed to lighten up at the sight of food, the way the corner of them would crinkle in excitement and the small satisfied sounds at the food gracing his taste buds was something you found adorable.

The feeling of contentment that enveloped you was entirely new. As the calmness washed over you, you realised it felt like coming home. Not knowing what to make of it you continued to stare at Jungkook, hoping that the answers were hidden somewhere in his smile. Catching you stare at him mid bite Jungkook stopped and tilted his head in confusion.

“Is there something on my face?” realising you were staring at him for a bit too long you squeaked in embarrassment.

“Ah, no no no I was just lost in thought.” Hoping he would buy that excuse, you offered him a bright smile.

Jungkook had known you were staring at him, and for a brief second, along with the spiciness of the noodles burning his tongue, he felt something smoky intertwine. He wondered if it was the food, but the taste was too distinct. In an instant he could place it, the taste of cigarettes. It was faint but he recognised instantly that ashy fragrance. He wondered if his soulmate was a smoker and if so why would the taste bother him now?

He found out about the soulmate connection years ago and how he was meant to figure out which person was meant for him. Meeting your soulmate was supposed to trigger a taste that was only attributed to them. His trigger happened a few years ago when he started working for the company. To say he was excited was an understatement. He has dreamt of meeting his soulmate for so long and to know that they were in proximity was exhilarating.

In his naive search for them he decided to accept all the requests he has gotten from his colleagues to go on dates. Unfortunately for him, he realised too late that it was not the way to find the one that was meant to be for you. Just like the concept of a soulmate, if it was meant to happen, it would happen. He realised too late and after too many failed dates that he could not rush the process. So he stopped trying. Until that one day when he saw you on the roof of the building, during lunch time. You had no idea that you were not alone, had you been aware of that fact you may have not gotten out your pack of cigarettes. Jungkook could tell by the way your foot tapped the ground impatiently and the way your hands kept grabbing at your hair that you were stressed. He sat in silence not wanting to disturb you as you seemed to be hyping yourself up about something. You didn’t interact that day, but in his head he knew he had found you. The taste of cigarettes on his lips was as strong as the smell wafting through the air.

Normally he would not have been happy about someone who smoked in his vicinity, the harsh smell causing his nose to tingle in an unpleasant fashion. Watching you stress smoke that cigarette with the knowledge that you were his soulmate he found himself unbothered by that knowledge. He knew who you were, your mutual friend being Taehyung. He had introduced you two as soon as you started working for the company.

He will always remember that specific moment, the time when you smiled shyly at him extending your hand. He felt an unusual warmth all throughout his body, but he didn’t realise at the time it was your soulmate bond tying itself together like the ends of two loose strings.

He tried with all his might to figure out whether or not you had the faintest idea about your soulmate connection and for a few months he would insist on taking his break on the floor below just so he could spend time with you. Your lack of interest towards him and his advances told him that you were oblivious. You weren’t treating him differently than you would treat Taehyung and for a while he questioned himself. What if he had been wrong? Instead of keeping up appearances, he let himself slip into the friend's mould. If he had been wrong then it would spare him the embarrassment, if he hadn’t been wrong then it would do him no harm to be friends first.

The memories still fresh in his mind he knew now that you were his soulmate. Still a bit tipsy from the wine he had shared with Taehyung earlier he plucked up the courage and jokingly asked, “Is it because I am handsome?” The shocked look on your face and the silence that ensued were far from comfortable. Slowly Jungkook could feel the heat of the blood rushing to his face and he tried his best to hide his embarrassment with a cough. “I mean-“

At the sight of his wide eyes and red cheeks you started chuckling, not being able to hold your composure for any longer. “It was bad, but you’re adorable.” This time your face turned beet red. You both looked at each other like deer caught into headlights for a few moments, only to dissolve into laughter once again.

That night you talked to Jungkook as if he was an old friend. It felt comfortable to share stories with him, to laugh and to make jokes. It felt good to be out of your head for once. The worries that had plagued your mind completely dissolved in between the laughter and the wine that you were sharing.

At some point during the night you both moved into the corridor in front of your room, both sat on the floor, your back leaning against the wall. Passing the wine bottle in between the two of you the conversation carried on into the darkness of the corridor. The only available source of light coming from the kitchen dimly lighting both of your faces, casting shadows across the floor. You didn’t know when you got so close to him, your skin prickling at the heat emanating from his body. Or when your head dropped onto his broad shoulder, your eyes fluttering, heavy with sleep.

“Y/N” Jungkook whispered and you hummed in response. The familiarity of the scene made him smile. You looked adorable, cuddled into his side, your eyes laden with sleep.

“What if I were to tell you I found my soulmate?” His voice was fearful but his heart was hopeful.

Wide awake now, your head snapped up. “What?”

Even though it was meant to be a whisper your voice reverberated through the corridor. Gasping you stopped to listen for any signs of Taehyung waking up. When the corridor stayed silent you breathed a sigh of relief and cleared your throat. “What?” you looked alarmed at Jungkook.

“Is it that bad? That I found my soulmate?” he looked wounded and you quickly tried to clarify. “Nonono, definitely not bad, just...i am surprised” you looked hesitant. You didn’t know what to make of that information, on one hand you wanted to be happy for him. Not everyone thought like you about the soulmate bond. On the other hand you couldn’t fathom the idea that he may have found his intended love in life. The pain blossomed in your chest and you readily assumed the reason behind that being your aversion towards the concept.

“But what if….” Jungkook stopped. He looked unsure of himself and something pulled at your heartstrings. In an attempt to comfort him you placed your hand on his grasping it gently.

“What if, the soulmate doesn’t want me” he tried again, his voice meek. You gave him a sympathetic look, in a way you could relate to his worries. “There is no way your soulmate wouldn’t want you” you tried to ease his worries, your hand subconsciously tightening its grip on his. Jungkook didn’t respond looking lost in thought and for a moment you thought you had said the wrong thing when you felt his fingers intertwined with yours. The feel of his warmth combined with the softness of his hands cause butterflies to erupt in your stomach. The feeling so foreign to you, but not unwelcome.

“But what if I said my soulmate was you?” he tried again, his grip tightening, as if he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. Your heart stopped, your mind trying to catch up with his words. Taking the risk, Jungkook slowly cupped your face. Leaning towards you until your lips were only one whisper away he stopped. His warm breath fanning over your face, it smelt sweet, tangy. Before you could process your thoughts bumped his lips onto yours in a timid touch. Once, twice, three times, his lips ghosted over yours.

You could not react, the surprise from his confession still wrecking havoc through your body. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his soft lips touch yours with a bit more conviction. You almost allowed yourself to melt into the kiss a small moan leaving the back of your throat. He tasted sweet, just like...you could not place the taste, and yet it seemed so familiar.

You jolted out of the trance pulling away from him entirely, almost sliding yourself on the opposite side of the corridor. Like a deer in headlights you observed his every move, ready to flee the scene if he got too close to you. “Y/N”, Jungkook tried to reach a hand towards you. You flinched away from him and he halted. You looked scared of him. He could feel his heart break in two at the sight of your distress.

“Y/N” he tried again but you would not have it. You were unable to listen to any reasoning, your fight or flight reaction at an all time high. “Please go” you managed to utter.

When he tried to approach you again you let out a sob, the emotions of your revelations catching up with you. “Please” you pleaded, looking at him in despair. Jungkook’s heart dropped. The look on your face told him you wanted him gone, and as much as it hurt him he would listen to you.

Giving you one last pained look he turned around on his heels and walked down the corridor, swallowed by the darkness of the apartment. When with a click of the front door you knew he was gone, and you broke down in tears.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Taehyung, fully awake, having heard the front door close and your sobs echoing through the apartment, rushed to your side.

“I fucked up” was the only thing you could mutter over and over again. Taehyung was confused. Looking around him trying to find something that may indicate the reason for your cries, he spotted the wine bottle by your leg. Alarmed, he picked it up. “Fresh notes of strawberries”....

“Y/N are you daft? This has strawberries in it!” he tried to pry your hands away from your face to check for any signs of swelling. Your incessant cries lessened at that. Taehyung could barely discern what you were saying and so instead, he hugged you tightly to his chest letting you cry it out.

“I think I know the taste that has been bugging me” a couple of days after that night, you were in the break room with Taehyung prepared to have your lunch break. You had been successful at avoiding Jungkook, and you had a strong suspicion that he had stayed out of your way on purpose. That lessened your worries, you didn’t know if you would be able to confront him about what had transpired between the two of you.

“Really? What, when and how?” you could tell Taehyung was trying to hide his excitement underneath his grin. You refused to give him more information on the subject, not yet ready to talk about it. But if you underestimated something, it was his ability to put two and two together. “Is it Jungkook?” you stopped dead in your tracks, your heartbeat picking up the pace. At your reaction Taehyung almost grinned, he was happy his two friends had discovered each other. His grin faltered at something behind you.

You tried denying it, telling him he was mistaken. but with the sweet taste of strawberries lingering on your lips, even you knew that there was no mistake.

“Uhh, Y/N, I have to rush, I forgot that I needed to send some documents over” he quickly got up and rushed out of the room. Your bewildered eyes followed his retreat only to come across the man that had just entered the break room. You gasped at the sight of his athletic frame dressed in the dark coloured suit he normally wore for work. He looked handsome.

“Jungkook” you acknowledged him with a nod. He stood there looking at you for a moment, a strange look on his face as if he was prepared to say something but then changed his mind at the last minute. Instead he mirrored your nod and headed towards the coffee machine.

He passed by you in an attempt to reach for the pods that were on the table behind you. To get to them he had to step around your still body. You could not move, still in a daze, your lips tingling from the kiss you two have shared earlier. Your hands were trembling and you tried your hardest to stay calm and not give away the mixed feelings raging through your body. You cleared your throat and looked away in an attempt to hide your blushing face from him. Jungkook took you in silently, he didn’t know what to make of your reaction. Earlier when he had kissed you, your lips moulding together, you pressed tightly against his form, hands raking through his hair. You seemed to be reciprocating the feeling but now, when you were acting like a deer caught in headlights, he was not so sure of himself anymore.

Cautiously he approached you, his gaze unfaltering, he was afraid that if he stepped over the line you would run away from him again. He didn’t know if his heart could take it.

He couldn’t imagine that if you’d figured it out you’d react to him like this. He was waiting for you to realise it was him. However, the blank look on your face and your stiff posture told him otherwise. The soulmate connection urged him to take you in his arms and take the pain away, to make it better. But you didn’t know yet it was him, and he debated whether or not he should tell you. His heart lurched in pain, he didn’t know how to approach the issue. Knowing himself he’d make a stupid comment which would drive you further away. So he settled for actions rather than words.

It felt like an eternity until he reached you, toe to toe, his hand hesitantly cupped your face. You couldn’t move, your breath coming into short pants, your heart flipping inside your chest. For a second you feared you would faint, but the warm touch of his hand kept you grounded and so you focused on that. Closing your eyes you leaned your head onto his hand soaking up the comfort. Even though you were apprehensive about Jungkook and your connection, he has been nothing but kind and understanding to you. His awkward demeanour paired with his confident looks, an endearing combination in your eyes. After that night you two spent together in the corridor of your apartment you understood very well why most women in your company fell in love with him. What you didn’t understand though, was why he would break their hearts like that. Thinking about the rumours once again your eyes snapped open and you pushed his hand away.

“Jungkook,” you cleared your throat. You needed to get your feelings off your chest otherwise you would implode. You wanted to make sure you were both on the same page. You didn’t want to end up heartbroken like any of the other women in the office. Your stomach lurched at that, the thought of him rejecting you like he did those women sending shooting pains through your whole body.

Jungkook’s hands stayed a few centimeters away from your face, his face morphing into anguish. But as soon as it appeared, it was instantly gone, replaced by a smile, the same heartfelt smile he gave you the day you met. The day you had signed your fate. The day the taste of what you could place now as strawberries had invaded your tastebuds. He waited for you to say something, he was not going to push you, but his gentle eyes told you he was going to listen to whatever you decided to tell him. Taking a deep breath in you decided to continue.

“I- am not sure how to put this into words, so I am going to just come out with it.” tears pooled into your eyes at the thought of what you were going to say. He nodded but you could tell he was anxious by the way his hand helplessly dropped to his side and started fiddling with his pants. You blinked the tears away but they just kept coming leaving a hot trail down your face. The pain of losing your parents resurfacing at the memories flooding your head.

“My parents, they uh, died” you stumbled over your words, finding it very difficult to get a grasp over your emotions. You took Jungkook’s silence as a sign to carry on, “my dad passed away in a car accident, after that, my mother she uh” a sob wrecked through your body and you couldn’t carry on. Watching as your whole body broke down in front of him Jungkook decided to throw caution out the window and steadily wrapped his arms around you. In an instant you relaxed, the warmth and the comfort provided by your soulmate embracing you calmed you down enough for you to carry on with your story.

“My mother, she died heartbroken three years after my father” you sniffled embarrassed at the snot you could see on his shirt. Trying to pull yourself away from him you found yourself nose to chest with him as he tightened his grip on you. You didn’t have the strength to fight against his hold.

“Jungkook,” you pleaded, slumping against him, your forehead resting on his warm chest. In that position you could hear his heartbeat, the strong thump reverberating through you. The knowledge that you were about to break that rhythm pained you. “I don’t want to have a soulmate.” A fresh wave of tears soaked through his shirt. Jungkook felt as if your sobs had not only penetrated the material but also his heart, the coldness that gripped him rendering him speechless.

Despite the unbearable ache that your words have caused him, he remembered that you were also suffering. He decided that his pain was irrelevant to yours, the soulmate bond that forged between the two of you pushing him to alleviate your sorrow and forget about his own.

“Y/N” his voice sounded foreign to him, the anguish seeping through. He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on you, trapping your arms in between the two of you. You knew you were being selfish, your hard words chipping away at his heart. Despite that he was being patient and understanding, lending you the last of his strength. “Don’t, please” was his last attempt at asking you not to crush him. A plea followed by a soft kiss on the top of your head, his own tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

His words pierced through you, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. It felt as if someone had placed a weighted lead over your heart. Your mind was fighting against the soul’s desire to mould together as one, to form that bond fully. But by doing so, you were fighting against the laws of the soulmate connection, the broken promise of being together forever caused you to feel agony like never before. Desperate, you managed to free your hands and wrap them around him, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back in an attempt to steady yourself. You let the pain course through you, letting Jungkook’s soft cries in your hair be a reminder of your self-serving fears. His breath was hot on the crown of your hair, his breath coming out in broken gasps and you finally understood.

This is what your mother had experienced. This is the pain she must have gone through when your father was gone. Only, you were voluntarily putting yourself and him through it.

You felt despicable, but most importantly, you were terrified. Thoughts running through your head, scenarios in which you and him were bonded and living a happy life, only for it to be swept from under you. You didn’t think you could bear that, but you knew that what you were doing now was not right either. There was no such thing as a bandaid when it came to a soulmate bond. You would suffer forever and it never got easier.

“Y/N, please talk to me.” Jungkook’s voice wavered but his tears had stopped. He was doing his best to stay strong for you. Burying your head into his inviting shoulder you inhaled his scent, it was something sweet. Sweet like that night when you kissed, that significant night when you realised he was yours and you were his. Trying to recall the happiness that you felt when you two kissed you whispered, “I’m afraid.”

Jungkook had never felt more helpless. Hearing you admit this felt even more painful than you rejecting the soulmate bond. He could do very little to alleviate your worries, he couldn’t promise you forever because he himself had no power over the future, but he could promise you that he would try his best to be there until it wasn’t possible anymore.

“I can’t promise you that we will last forever, but I can promise you that as long as we are alive and have a forever to fight for I will do my best to reach it” his soft words brushed through your hair, the hand on your back tightening its hold. Fresh tears spilled from your eyes, the hot trail competing with the warmth that was growing in your chest. His words were not enough to alleviate your worries, but they were enough to pacify the inner battle between your soul and your heart.

“Hey,” he gently grabbed your shoulders, breaking your hold on him. With some distance now in between the two of you, it was easier to look at him. Your heart broke at the sight of the tears silently running down his face, a contrast to the small reassuring smile he was offering you. If not for the pain in his eyes you would have thought he was crying for you only. However, his eyes spoke of agony for two. The relationship that was meant to be, the relationship that your souls craved and you had power over. The understanding encouragement he was offering told you that he would take whatever you decided. If your decision was to not pursue this, he would accept it and never question it. With this in mind you took a deep breath in, your hands hesitantly reaching out and wiping away at the trail of tears.

“I am afraid” you stopped glancing away from him for a split second. Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat anticipating your next words. You had the power to make him or break him, his heart in your hands. With your next exhale, you let all your worries out, your stance visibly relaxing.

“But I am not afraid to fight for a future forever, with you.”

Main Masterlist

[boldlyvoid]

Only Time Will Tell | Part 2

18+

Summary: Fifteen years after a horrible breakup, Y/N and spencer figure out that time can heal almost everything.

Content Warnings: angst, parental death, mentions of cancer and suicide. Bi reader, bi spencer, recounting childhood relationships, slight angst, spencer's headaches, abusive relationships (not spencer and reader) blood tests, spencer's addiction issues, getting together, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, switch spencer, sub reader, smut (not super graphic)

Word Count: 6.5K

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

When she wakes up she’s incredibly confused. She stares up at the bumpy stucco ceiling and Spencer laying on her chest and it feels like she’s gone back in time. He’s so snuggled into her, but her body is different than when she was 15, a lot different. He has a handful of one boob and his face on the other and she just shakes her head at the sight.

She kisses his forehead and strokes his hair and she lets it happen, because this is how she’s wanted to wake up every single day for the past 15 years. She’s spent just as long away from him as she’s spent loving him and she never realized how much it would hurt to think about it when she got him back.

She expected all the pain to go away, and while she’s a doctor and she knows way too much about the human brain, she still expected him to make her instantly happy. It wasn’t going to happen like that. Yes the hormones and endorphins were going to help, hugs and kisses and cuddles, sleeping beside him and hopefully sex… all those would contribute to making her feel happy, but at the end of the day her depression was always going to sit in the corner and attack when she was the most vulnerable.

Even with her last crush, it was good until she was alone. She’d cuddle with her all night with her lips pressed to her shoulder, wishing more than anything that she could feel that good forever… and it faded away when she realized she’d never have her. Unlike how she feels with Spencer right now.

He starts to wake up, also confused she guesses because he pulls away and sits right up with wide eyes and a horrified look on his face that just makes her laugh. “It’s fine, lay back down,” she pulls him back in and he settles, but the hand that was on her boob is now on her arm and he doesn’t say a word.

“How was your sleep?” She eventually asks, it’s the slightest whisper as she runs her fingers over his back the way he liked when he was younger.

“Really good,” he whispers back, “I haven’t slept this long in probably 15 years.”

“That makes one of us,” she smirks, “I sleep so much, it’s never refreshing but I sleep a lot.”

“I have really bad headaches, and no one can give me answers for them, I want to sleep but normally I can't.”

“What do you mean no one has answers?” She feels a little defensive, “have you had a brain scan or done blood work?”

“I’ve done it all,” he sighs, and she lifts him off of her.

“Do you have them here? Can I look?” She starts to worry for him, wanting to see everything she can and help him.

“Yeah,” he gets out of bed and rummages through his things, pulling out a few manila folders.

She grabs her phone and turns the flash on, laying it face down on the bed and shining up towards the ceiling, she takes out his MRI, a CT scan and holds them over the light one by one. “Your gray matter is so thick…”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You’re a genius, tell me what gray matter does,” she teases, remembering how she used to use him as a google before Google was even invented.

“It's found throughout the central nervous system and controls movement, memory and emotions…”

“You’re a genius, I’ve always wondered how it would look,” she is fascinated with these normally, but Spencer’s is her favourite so far. “Your brain looks good, there’s nothing alarming, nothing out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean it’s all working right.”

He just hums along, she places them all back in their folders and opens his folder of paperwork, reading all his blog tests, “this is just basic stuff?”

He nods, “they won't test anything without reason.”

“Come to my lab? I’ll run every test in the book, you’re technically a schizophrenia research candidate so no one will care.”

“Really?” He looks almost excited, “I can take the morning off?”

“Okay,” she smiles, “let’s get ready then.”

She makes a phone call in Spencer’s kitchen, he’s still in the shower but Y/N’s completely dressed and ready for the day with the little supplies she brought in her bag. But she needs help.

“What?” The man answers first.

“It’s just me, put her on.”

“I’ve got this—Hello,” her best friend snatches the phone from him and answers with a smile she can hear, “how are you, bestie?”

“Hi Maeve,” she whispers with a smile.

“Why are we whispering?” She teases, “are you at someone’s house?”

“Yes,” she smiles, “I’m at Spencer’s.”

“No fucking way…” she whispers, “why didn’t you call me after your coffee date on Tuesday? I was so excited to hear about it.”

“I tried, but Bobby picked up and said you weren’t available,” she replied with a deep sigh, not hiding the fact that she hates Maeve’s fiancé.

“Oh,” she sounds ashamed and it makes Y/N feel bad for her, “well, how’d it go?”

“Good, we had a very PG13 sleep over the way we used to, It was nice waking up with him again, but I’m taking him into work today to do some blood work, I was wondering if I could send you some of his results? He’s getting headaches that he says are pretty debilitating?”

“Hmm, I’m free this morning once Bobby leaves for work, has he had any prior tests? I can come by and meet my best friend's best friend?” Maeve all but begs, that same pleading tone in her voice that Y/N loves.

“Of course, I’d never turn down a visit from you, I’ve missed you a lot,” she smiles at the floor, “and you’re really going to like Spencer.”

“I’m sure I will, do you think everything’s going to work out between you two?”

“I’m not sure yet,” her smile fades at the admission, “I don’t want to get my hopes up, but given the fact he texted me worried for my well-being and he’s been so adamant about hanging out… I’d like to say things are going back to normal.”

“Awe,” she swoons, “I love stories like this, you know that. I’m so glad you’re finally talking to him again, I thought I was going to have to bring you into my marriage, sister-wife style, in order to make you happier.”

“You could still leave Bobby for me,” she teases. “If this doesn’t work out, I still need a wife?” She teases and Maeve laughs and it makes her smile wide and toothy.

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” she whispers, “I’ll see you at work? In like an hour?”

“Do you want a coffee? We’re probably going to stop on the way,” Y/N offers, finally looking up from the pattern in the kitchen tile to see Spencer standing in the doorway.

“Just my usual,” she can hear Maeve’s smile, “but I’ll see you then, bye, love you.”

“Love you too,” she hangs up and stutters as she looks at Spencer, “I didn’t hear the water turn off?”

He’s standing there in a dark purple towel, one around his waist and one tightly wrapping his hair, he looks silly but she loves it. “Who was that?”

“My best friend,” she presses her lips together awkwardly, “she’s a geneticist, and if you have a deficiency causing these headaches she’s the best one to figure it out.”

“Thank you for caring this much,” it sounds so sad, she can tell he’s not used to this kind of effort being put in for him anymore.

“I’m very used to protecting you, it’s not something I can drop, even after fifteen years,” she reminds him, “I hate to think that you’ve had to do it alone for so long.”

“It’s been hard,” he agrees. “How is this going to work?”

“What?”

“Being best friends? Because as much as everyone on my team says they’re my best friend, I don’t feel close enough to anyone to give them that title anymore, not since I stopped talking to you,” it’s a lot to take in at a quarter to 8 in the morning.

Her eyes just go wide and she feels so bad for him, but at the same time, he did that to himself. He could have reached out, he could have stayed. There are lots of things he could do, and now the only thing she wants to do is let it go.

“Maeve means a lot to me, you’ll like her,” she steps into his space and pokes his wet chest, “she’s the only woman in her field, I’m the only woman in mine, we met at a talk a few years back and she’s been my person for so long.”

“Why couldn’t she go to get the time capsule with you?”

“She can’t leave the state,” Y/N admits, “she has a stalker and she won't tell me much, she doesn’t want me involved, she’s a little scared. And Bobby won't even let her answer the phone anymore, she’s why I reached out. She believes in fairytales and happy endings and after everything I’ve told her she said this love story has all the makings of a romantic comedy.”

Spencer laughs, “she’s not wrong.”

“She’s always going to be my best friend, but I can have two,” Y/N suggests, looking up at him and raising a brow.

“I don’t mind sharing,” he whispers.

It looks like he wants to kiss her and she desperately wants to lean in and let him, but he backs up. “I’m just going to change and then I’ll meet you back out here.”

“Yeah, course,” she lets him walk away and her heartbeat is audible in her ears.

She’ll always love Spencer, and yet a part of her wonders what would’ve happened if she had actually asked Maeve out that week before she met Bobby. Then she’d be able to go to the cops about the stalker, then she’d keep her safe all the time, and then again maybe she wouldn’t be here with Spencer trying to make it work if she was with Maeve.

It’s a lot to deal with at 8 in the morning.

She walks down to the building's garage with Spencer, he’s all dressed and ready for the day and he looks great. He dresses better than when he was a teenager, everything matches, it’s pressed and clean and he honestly could walk the runway like this.

And then she sees it.

“You still have it?”

“Shit,” Spencer whispers, “we can take the subway or a cab or something if this is triggering at all?”

“No,” she assures him, “I’m not triggered, just shocked that Amy still runs?”

“I’m an engineer, remember? I know how to keep her going.”

She runs her hand along with the blue paint of Diana’s old Volvo Amazon, who they appropriately named Amy when they were kids. She looks in at the backseat, the tear in the seat is still there from when the button on her jeans got stuck, the light in the radio is still burned out, unable to tell the time. The seats are just as comfortable, she turns on just as loud as before, and she never thought she’d say she missed the smell.

They stop at a coffee shop by the university, Spencer orders first and then it’s up to her, “can I get an iced coffee and—“

“A white hot chocolate with a blueberry tea bag in it? Absolutely,” the barista smiles, “anything else today, Y/N?”

“Not today, Katie,” she smiles, taking out the normal amount and a decent tip, “how’s school going?”

“Good, thank you for that study guide, I got a 92 on my last Bio test,” she’s unbelievably giddy and it makes Y/N’s day.

“that’s amazing,” Y/N makes the most basic small talk before joining Spencer by the counter.

“How do you know everyone?” Spencer whispers and nudges her shoulder with his own.

“I talk to people,” she nudges him back, “you’d be amazed by what happens when you let people in.”

Spencer hums, they watch Katie make their drinks carefully and quickly, putting them in a tray and handing them to Y/N with a smile. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too!” Y/N calls back and waits for Spencer to get the door for them.

And then he opens the passenger door for her too. “So, I have to ask…” Spencer says as they finally get back in the car. He places his coffee in the cup holder, “were you and Maeve together at some point?”

“No…”

“Oh,” he drops it when he realizes it’s not a question she wants to be asked.

The rest of the drive is quiet, she sips her coffee and looks out the window and he taps the steering wheel the way he always used to do. “Have you dated anyone in the last 15 years?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, “I have been on dates but nothing’s really worked out.”

“Hmm,” she says before she drops it.

Pulling into her work, he parks in her spot and the two of them get out and begin their walk to the elevators and then he asks another question.

“So you haven’t dated or been with anyone since we broke up?” He looks a little shocked.

“Not really,” she shakes her head, “I don’t feel the need to? I’m not lonely, I’m busy.”

“Oh.”

The elevator dings and she walks out first, through the main hall and towards the lab. She puts on her coat and hands Spencer a blank one, “these are my Ph.D. candidates.”

Inside she has 4 students all dressed up and doing their work and Spencer waves awkwardly as they look up at him. “Good morning guys.”

“Morning doctor,” they reply in unison.

“My friend Spencer here has a genetic predisposition for schizophrenia so I’m just going to run the basic tests but he’s not going to be in any of the trials.”

“Sounds good,” one of them smiles.

“We’ll be in here if you need me,” she points at her office and Spencer follows her inside. “Oh, and Maeve is coming in as well, tell her to come right in.”

“Why? How many people have you slept with?” She suddenly closes the door, resuming their conversation immediately.

“Including you,” he does the calculations on his fingers, letting out a deep breath he was keeping in. “Elle, Ethan, and a handful of one-night stands…”

“That’s not too bad,” she shrugs and then she can’t help but laugh, “but Ethan? Really?”

Spencer nods with a smirk, “I told you I would one day.”

She laughs, remembering how much they hated each other. Ethan was a pain in the ass, flirting with both of them to piss the other off, especially when they were all on opposite mathlete teams… but Spencer did have a crush and she was secure enough in their relationship back then to just laugh it off, like she is now.

“How did it even happen?” She asks, taking out all the supplies from the cupboard, and returning to him with an elastic band.

“I went to see him in New Orleans because I was addicted to drugs and he’s an alcoholic and I wanted him to tell me not to waste my life away because no one else was going to do it.”

“Wait, addicted? I thought it was just the one case?” Her whole body reacts, her heart drops and her breathing changes and she worries for him in a way she hasn’t felt in years. “Do you want me to do this in your hand so you don’t get triggered?”

He shakes his head, “no, it’s fine,” and then he takes a chip out of his pocket, “it was nice to not feel anything for a while.”

He hands it to her, it’s a 5-year chip and it makes her smile. “I’m always going to be proud of you.”

“I know.”

She hands it back to him and he puts it back where it belongs and the conversation dies there as she takes his blood and he looks away. She has a few vials, she puts his name on them and turns back to him. “Can I ask who Elle is?”

“She was on my team,” he presses his lips together and she knows there’s more in there.

“And?”

“She was shot and had terrible PTSD after, I checked on her one night and she was drinking and we got to talking about her feelings and she didn’t want to be alone… the next night she killed a serial rapist and claimed self-defence but I know she killed him because we couldn’t get justice for his victims. She put justice into her own hands, and then she left.”

“Do you live in a soap opera?” She teases, “damn, okay. I mean good for her, she probably thought if she was going to prison at least she could get some dick first.”

“That’s what I thought for a while too,” Spencer nods along, only slightly sad. “But then I thought about what I did to you, and I figured she didn’t need a reason to sleep with me and leave me, sometimes it just happens and there isn’t a good reason.”

“It’s different for boys,” she combats. “And you weren’t a virgin then, you were what? 24? You were almost a full-brained man.”

“I know.”

She needs to let it go, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, “sorry.”

“You’re not wrong. The damage I must have caused isn’t something that heals fast,” he explains and it starts to feel like a profile. “You haven’t just not slept with anyone because you don’t want to. It’s because you’re scared. We were really young, we were stupid, and I hurt you to the point where you can’t let in anyone who will leave you. I’m going to keep saying I’m sorry even though I know I can’t remove the scars, they’re always going to be there.”

“I hate you sometimes,” she whispers, turning away from him and gripping the counter. “You didn’t have to read me like that. Not everything is your fault you know, I’ve tried. I’ve wanted to and none of the people I’ve dated were good enough and the person I wanted to sleep with the most found someone else before I had the courage to do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She turns back to him with a straight face, “I wanted to feel loved more than I wanted to be fucked. You damaged my heart, not my vagina.”

He tries not to laugh, biting his lips and yet the air that leaves his nose sounds like a laugh, she turns her attention back to him, playfully outraged that he would laugh. “You’re a dick.”

“I missed you a lot,” he smiles, “and I’m really glad you reached out.”

—

When Maeve comes in, Y/N wraps herself around her so tight that Maeve laughs. “Hello lovely,” she whispers against her and Y/N’s heart flutters just a bit.

“Were you safe?” Y/N worries and brushes her hands along her arms as she looks her over. “You weren’t followed or anything?”

“No,” Maeve assures her and hugs her once more, “you look so good, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” she rocks her back and forth slightly and then turns to introduce her to Spencer, who’s now standing.

“This is Doctor Spencer Reid, Spencer this is Doctor Maeve Donovan, my best friend,” Y/N turns to him and Spencer looks at her like he knows her from somewhere.

“wait—

“Journal of Behavioural Psych… I’ve already seen your brain,” Maeve fills in the blanks. “I didn’t reply to your email because I knew you were Y/N’s Spencer.”

“Oh…” Spencer can’t really believe it.

“And I had no idea you have schizophrenia in your family either…” she stares at Y/N with her brows raised.

“Stop,” she whispers under her breath. “I told you.”

“It was between Alzheimer's in Texas and Schizophrenia here,” Spencer repeats. “I always thought I’d be the one to cure it for my mom, but I’m glad it’s you.”

Maeve just smiles at him and Y/N can’t stop smiling at her, it’s surreal to have her best friends meet.

They all catch up with their drinks in her office. Sitting at Y/N’s desk and sharing their stories, Spencer’s medical issues, Y/N’s flight anxiety and Maeve’s stalker.

“I actually got this yesterday…” she takes a letter out of her purse and hands it to them. “I think I’m going to dye my hair brown and move out of Bobby’s apartment. And I might hide for a bit.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, “we can get Penelope and the rest of Spencer’s friends to look into this, please? Please you can’t hide anymore this is too serious.”

“This is classic stalker behaviour,” Spencer says as he reads over the letter a few times. “They want to murder you and then kill themselves… do they bring this up often?”

“Yeah,” Maeve agrees. “He has a thing with suicide he’s said I should just kill myself and spare everyone the stress…”

“Wait,” Y/N stands and flicks through all her paperwork, “that girl who you turned down for a Ph.D. handed in the same thesis to me about cell deterioration in people with suicidal ideation.”

“That sounds like it matches up,” Spencer agrees. “I think I can have Penelope email you some information on the student so you can take it to the police?”

“Thank you, Spencer,” she smiles at him and Y/N can’t help but feel like a third wheel somehow.

Because of course her straight best friend, who she’s been in love with for 2 years, would meet her ex-boyfriend and be instantly attracted to him. It’s her luck. And by the way, Spencer is smiling at her, she knows he thinks she’s pretty. She’s known him long enough to remember when he looked at her like that… she clears her throat and gets them to stop making googly eyes at each other.

“We have a flight to catch soon too,” she reminds him. “I’m going to go work with my students if you two want to stay here and talk to Spencer’s co-workers.”

“Yeah,” Maeve agrees quickly. “That sounds good.”

“Can I talk to you first?” Spencer asks, pulling her into the other room and closing the door.

“What’s up?”

“You’re jealous,” he reads her just as well as she reads him.

“And you think she’s pretty,” she bites back. “I’m not jealous, I’m envois. I wished for a very long time that she would love me back and all it takes is a single smile from you and she’s probably willing to leave bobby.”

“But she’s not you,” Spencer replies. “It’s not that easy for me to fall in love, you know that. It took us years to fall as in love with each other as we were and it never went away. Meeting her can’t replace how I feel about you.”

“We can’t do this now,” she stops him. “Sit on it, tell me tomorrow when we open the time capsule. Mean it when you say it, don’t just try and calm me down with your words.”

She leaves the room, walking right past Maeve and into the lab. Helping the first student to call her attention and leaving her best friends to mingle.

—

She has a nap on the plane, Spencer did too, their heads resting against each other as they slept through the turbulence and the crying babies, waking up for the landing and departure. They get a car for the weekend, and the drive to her parent's house is so, so, so quiet.

“I’m not ready for how weird this is going to be” She whispers.

“It’s not going to be weird.”

“Yes, it is,” she’s adamant.

Her bed is still there for them to spend the night in, so are her parent's and brothers' beds if he doesn’t want to sleep beside her. And the couches and the fridge and anything big that she couldn’t move out alone yet.

“Why? Because we have to sleep in the same bed again, because it’s the house with all our memories or because the time capsule has letters addressed to our kids?”

“Yes.”

They both laugh at her bluntness, “we were so hopeful back then.”

“We had no reason not to be,” he says. “Your parents were very good at reminding me that our dreams can come true if we work hard enough.”

“They were great parents,” she agrees. “I miss them so much…”

“Would it be weird if I went to the grave?”

“No,” she lets out a deep breath, “they loved you.”

He pulls onto their old street and her heart is in her stomach. She can’t believe they’re actually doing this, they’re actually together again at her parent's house. He pulls into her driveway, her dad's truck is still parked out front and it looks exactly the same as it used to.

They grab their bags, she opens the door and then they’re alone in her old house. “See,” she teases, “it feels fuckin weird.”

“It’s so cold,” Spencer whispers. “Not like freezing, it just doesn’t feel right in here.”

“I know,” she agrees, taking her things and heading up the stairs towards her old bedroom.

“It’s grey…” Spencer whispers as he enters the room. “What happened to the purple?”

“My mom was bored when she was recovering from the chemo and she wanted to paint, so we did it,” she shrugs, “it was a fun weekend.”

Spencer puts his things in the corner and somehow it feels like they’re 15 again. He used to put his backpack there, he’d kick off his shoes and dive into her bed, waiting for afternoon cuddles and a nap before dinner and then they’d do homework until her curfew when he’d walk back to his house and wave to her from his window.

He kicks off his shoes again and she just sits on the edge of her bed, watching him. He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it on the hook behind her door, another thing he remembered to do almost by instinct.

“It’s like you never left,” she whispers.

He nods, “can I tell you now that I feel the same way, that I miss being loved too.”

It’s way too early in the weekend to be here already. “No,” she whispers. “Don’t do this to me again, please? Don’t offer to love me if you’re not certain that you’ll stay.”

“No one can be?” He reminds her as he sits beside her on her bed.

“You dying and you breaking my heart are two very different things,” she replies. “It would be easier if you died.”

“How?” He looks offended.

“Because then no one else can have you,” she can’t look at him and the tears come back. It fucking sucks. It hurts and she’s embarrassed.

“It’s killed me thinking about you all these years, wondering if you ever replaced me. I spent my whole childhood dreaming about being your wife and then I had to just imagine you with someone else for the last 15 years and it sucked.”

He doesn’t reply.

She shakes the tears away, clearing her throat slightly, “we’re either together or we’re not. Pick one. I can’t be stuck in limbo anymore.”

“No, I can’t just agree to go back to how it was before,” he shakes his head, “I’m not going to live up to your expectations. We are two completely different people now, we can’t just pick up where we left off without us fighting about it. I’m never going to be the same to you as I was when we were kids because I don’t know who that Spencer is anymore. I haven’t been him for a long time and this Spencer is really bad at pretending.”

He’s more assertive now, he was never this confident to fight with her when they were kids and then again he didn’t have a reason to.

They were happy back then.

“Would you like to date again and get to know each other as we are now?” She compromises.

“What if you don’t like who I am now? What if I let you down?”

“You can’t,” she can’t help but smile. “Because even after everything that’s happened, just looking at you fills me with the same feeling it did when we were kids. You’re always going to be my best friend, no matter what, even if we don’t have the same interests anymore or if you’re a bit more annoying…”

It makes him giggle and that’s what she wanted, “see? Look at us? We can do this, we just have to talk about it. I’m open to the fact that you’re a different man now from your trauma and you’re accepting of the fact I’m incredibly damaged from mine, and that we might always be, but one day we’ll laugh about it.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be laughing,” he teases and it feels like it did back then.

“No? I’m going to bring it up to tease you then,” she warns him, “because you’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

“You’re also more annoying than I remember,” he teases her right back and moves in to tickle her the way he used to.

She’s still ticklish. And he still remembers where. He tackles her back against the bed and she tries to push him off but she’s already giggling too hard, eyes closed as she tries to squirm out of his reach. But his arms are somehow longer than before? He wraps around her and digs into her sides with a hearty laugh and then it becomes a hug.

She settles again and he’s still on top of her and her arms wrap around him. His face is in the crook of her neck and she rests her cheek on his head, brushing her jaw along his hair and breathing deeply. She’s missed this so much in the last 15 years.

“I still love you,” he’s the one to say it first and all the tension in her body drops.

“Thank god,” she sighs and holds him a bit tighter. “I still love you.”

There’s a weird feeling in the air, one she hasn’t felt in a very long time. Not since they were sitting in that field, in Spencer’s mom's car, trying to figure out how they were going to have sex in the back seat.

She kisses the top of his head gently and he kisses the side of her neck in return and her breathing hitches. So he kisses her again, this time on the pulse point and up towards her Jaw and her eyes close as she leans into the contact.

It’s been a very long time since he’s seen most of her body, and yet as he strips her clothes off and covers her with his lips, it’s like nothings changed. He did this the first time too, carefully kissing everywhere but with a lot more nerves.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve done this,” she reminds him, “so please don’t stop.”

He laughs, kissing her cheek and looking down at her. “We’re doing this?”

She nods, “there’s no one here to stop us.”

“And no reason to stay quiet,” he teases back, looking around her room quickly, “it’s strange being back here.”

“We never actually had sex in here,” she whispers, pecking his lips softly and then realizing that’s the first real kiss they’ve shared in 15 years.

He lunges in and kisses her again, hand on her cheek as she rests back against the pillow, he slides a leg in-between her own, grinding against her softly as he kisses her, swiping a tongue along her bottom lip, he used to love making out with her.

They could make out for hours on end, hot and heavy, grinding together but never taking it anywhere. It was just as fun to them as anything else, up until they had sex for the first time. Then it was all they wanted to do, only back then they were both more scared of being caught than actually doing it, and it’s not like they hadn’t been experimenting with each other their whole lives.

They had baths together as kids, they spent a lot of time alone as children and they hit puberty at the same time… she’ll never forget the day they learned what masturbating was, they went home and tried it alone and reported right back to each other the next day.

It was always meant to happen, he was the only person she wanted to take her virginity back then. And she wasn’t mad at him for taking it and then leaving, she was mad at him for having sex with her a million more times before he left.

But he was always so delicate with her and she was just as soft with him, they loved each other and respected each other like it was second nature to them, and it was so easy to slip back into that. She knew everything he liked, he remembered what spots elicited the best responses from her. It was like they never missed a beat.

His clothes come off just as quickly as hers, she’s missed him so much over the years. Remembering their first time for far too long, thinking about him at the worst moments, typically right as pleasure overtook her. She’s been saying his name when she cums for so long it’s the only thing she knows how to do.

“Spencer please?” She whines as they grind together, her lips just as swollen as his.

She sits up and takes him with her, he kneels in front of her and she uses the free space to get off the bed and search through her suitcase. “I brought condoms for a reason,” she laughs as she hands them to him. “I figured this would happen at some point.”

“I did too,” he smirks, “but I also saw tonight that you’re on the pill?”

She nods and laughs, “you’re kidding?” She climbs back into her bed and suddenly she’s nervous, “I mean, yeah, we could? But how do I know you’re clean? You’ve slept with a lot of people since we were together.”

“6 isn’t a lot,” he retorts, “but I just thought I’d ask, I still want you to be the first person I do that with.”

“You’re asking and you can’t even say it?” She teases him, shoving him lightly and taking the condoms from him.

His whole demeanour changes then, “you’d let me fuck you raw?”

She forgets how to breathe then, simply nodding with her jaw dropped, mouth breathing, deeply, she’s shocked. She finally swallows, returning the moisture to her mouth, “yeah…”

“What else would you let me do?” He whispers, drawing her in closer until she’s sitting in his lap and running her hands down his bare chest.

“Anything,” she whispers back, “I’ve missed your touch.”

He hums, brushing his nose against hers before kissing her softly. “Do you think about me still?”

Of course he remembered when she told him that.

There was one day where he never came over, she was waiting and waiting and he wasn’t showing up so she eventually went over to get him. Finding him having an anxiety attack in his room, admitting to her and apologizing profusely for thinking about her when he masturbated the night before. He was afraid she would think he was gross and then hate him. When in reality she was thinking about him too.

She nods, “it’s hard not to when you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“I’m all you’ve ever had,” he reminds her. Or at least so he thinks.

“No,” she shakes her head, “there was another guy in high school.”

“What?” He furrows his brows, “I thought you said you didn’t?”

“I didn’t really want to, but, I had sex with Kyle VanNuss? Do you remember him?” She asks carefully, scared that this is ruining absolutely everything when she was just so close to having him again.

“I hated him,” Spencer replies. “I’m sorry it wasn’t good.”

“it’s fine it was 12 years ago,” she laughs, “I really wanted to sleep with people, I would have loved to have been able to, but I need this first. I need to feel totally and completely safe and loved and appreciated, the way you make me feel.”

“Demisexuality is defined by—

“Don’t quote textbook definitions at me, I love you and only you and no one compares. Now if there’s a spencer-sexual term, that’s me, and that’s how I’d like to keep it,” she tries to keep a straight face but she ends up laughing and dragging him down with her.

He rests his forehead on her shoulder, arms around her waist, they’re so close and completely naked and it feels right, “this is all I want.”

She sits up a bit, reaching between them and gripping his cock at the base and he moans. He’s bigger than she remembers, he still makes such beautiful sounds as she strokes him and then she runs the head of his cock along her folds and he tosses his head back with another delicious moan.

“Put it in,” he requests.

She sinks down onto him with more ease than she thought she would, always so turned on by him, it’s easy. She bottoms out and rests back against his legs, sitting in his lap, holding him incredibly close. It feels like every single part of him is touching her and she still wants more. Reconnecting their lips, his hands move down to her hips to help her move, grinding and bouncing they make a rhythm that is completely theirs, it works and she’s so lost in him.

Moaning into his mouth, feeling his hands on her body, his chest against hers and his tongue in her mouth. It’s all she’s wanted for a very long time, and it’s overwhelming. She tries to hold herself together but it feels so good, she’s on the edge of every single emotion in the book as she rides him there.

She breaks the kiss to hold him tighter, kissing his shoulder before he picks her up and lays her back against the bed, crawling between her legs and sliding back in. It’s easier at this angle, he slides in and out so easy, his thumb is on her clit and his mouth on her breasts as she lays there, blissed out and moaning, a tear slips down her face and she quickly wipes it away.

It’s all a lot and according to him, he’s staying forever. This isn’t the last time it’ll happen, it’s actually the first of many, the first of forever, and only time will tell how long that forever lasts.

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[tokoyamisstuff]

Dark Side Of The Moon Ch. 1 - Dark! Loki x Reader

Chapter 1: Speak to Me/Breathe

Chapter Summary: The last thing you remember was being mortally wounded, now having woken up in a completely different reality. And you’d soon need to face the horrors of who would seek you out...

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Suicide Attempt, Graphic Descriptions of Death, Dark! Loki, Spoiler you kinda die but kinda don't

Words: approx. 3800

[Story Masterlist]

Masterlist to my other works right ->Here<-

Lyrics used from the Song: Kina ft. Snow - Get You The Moon

“Y/N, look out!”

The piercing sounds of gunfire nearby made your eardrums ring, yet Steve’s words got through to you nonetheless.

But you were determined to end this, here and now.

Tony was the first one at your side, catching you in his arms before you hit the floor. However, you could only do so much as whimper a silent apology to your friends, who now had to live with the consequences of your actions.

“Why did you do this?!” you heared Dr. Strange yell as he unsucessfully tried to close the deep cut in your gut. Too afraid of what you might see if you’d look at the wound, your glare was locked on the beautiful sky - yes, the sun was almost setting, and it was somehow calming to you that this would most likely the last thing you’d set eyes upon.

“There was no reason to be this reckless!” Steve followed close by, his scolding soon turning into desperate screams. “Fuck. FUCK!” If Captain America himself is cussing, then it’s as severe as you thought it to be.

Your wounds were lethal, that much was sure.

And of course they were right, as always: You didn’t need to play the martyr here, throwing yourself into danger to shield your comrades - well, you did anyway, and there was no going back now.

On the other hand, they were the ones taking a gravely depressed widow onto a dangerous mission. But you did not want your precious friends to blame themselves for that, for it was your own wish.

Dying in an honorable battle was what would send you to Valhalla, after all - where you could finally meet him again, hopefully.

The only one not having spoken a single word up until now was Thor, very well knowing what all this was about. It was no secret that you were sick and tired of how your life had turned out to be, ever since the Infinity War.

You felt empty. Incomplete. Desperate. Hallow.

The God of Thunder had turned his back to you, yet there was still agony radiating from that already broken man. Your almost-brother-in-law was the only one who could possibly understand your pain. Thor Odinson had lost everything: His homeland, most of his tribe, his family and best friend - and soon, you as well.

All this time, you wanted to be strong. For them, who had also lost so much!

But at some point things just got out of control.

“You can’t leave me alone, Lady Y/N! Not you too!” Thor finally whimpered as he fell onto his knees, softly squeezing your hand. “You’re the only thing I have left from him!

So this is what dying feels like.

The bloodloss caused your limps to go limp, and when the pain began to stop and got replaced by numbness, you knew it would soon be time. Your brain lost the remaining control over your body, and you found yourself encoated by pure nothingless.

Only able to listen by their screams, cries and kind words - at least you’d die surrounded by those marvellous people. It sure was a privilege knowing them.

You weren’t afraid - all in all, it had been a good life, after all. 

There were no regrets.

“Shh” you hushed them, using your last bit of strenght so your lips formed somewhat of a most broken smile, forming words between gurling on your own blood.

“It’s alright, I-” you cut yourself off, trying to scream as a last, torturing pain shot through your whole system. “I-I-I’ll-- meet him again...you know?”

“I’m no-not strong enough, please...” Thor cried out like you had never seen him before, feeling a tide of guilt wash over you. “Loki wouldn’t have wanted you to go like this! He told me to protect you, so you could lead a long and happy life!”

Without him? Impossible!

“You gave me a shoulder when I needed it

You showed me love when I wasn’t feeling it

You helped me fight when I was giving in

And you made me laugh when I was losing it”

Yes, indeed: You had been to selfish to keep on living just for the sake of your friends, burdening them with yet another loss.

“I-I don’t wanna go...this was a mistake, I- please...”

How badly did you want to soothe them right now, telling them that everything would be alright and you’d meet them again, eventually?

It was too late now.

Your body gave up earlier than your soul, which had endured and kept on all this time, even in it’s shattered state.

And when Tony’s palm gently closed your eyes, making it easier for you to embrace the cold darkness, the last thing you heared before your senses gave up were startling you enough to almost bring you back to life:

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

That voice was familiar, yet it didn’t belong to Loki. Dr. Strange, no- Stephen Strange, your friend and mentor of the mystic arts.

“I don’t have the heart to allow this to happen” he stated frantic, making you wonder if that was a dream of your hypoxic brain or if you were still able to hear them? People tend to say the sense of hearing dies last, after all. “She still has a pulse, even though weak. Hurry!”

Their voices were far in the back, words way too far out of your reach to understand. As if you were an outsider, only observing from a distance.

Your friends were fighting, or maybe discussing something. That much you could make up from their tone, but your mind was too exhausted to make sense of anything.

It felt as if you were already without a body, floating through the unknown like a feather in the wind - not knowing where fate would lead you to next.

Everything was numb - even your pain. It was soothing, somehow.

Because you had been a ghost way before, when you were alive even. An empty shell of a human, acting like they weren’t dead on the inside.

Coherent thoughts, memories, emotions...even the fractions of your own past you had both collected and surpressed. Right now, they were all restrained and pushed far in the back of your very core, where you were finally able to evaluate them without earthly bondings.

Was this heaven, hell - or maybe both or none or them?

____

"Be aware of the limits this tactic has. It’s a very drastic measurement that can most likely be used only once in your lifetime, and it is not guaranteed to work either.”

Stephen’s voice again. You recall that scene, it’s been long in the past...but why are you remembering it now?

Yes, this was familiar. All of you had been invited to the Sanctum Sanctorum, a fitting place to teach about this ancient knowledge.

You clearly remembered that Loki was absent in any of the Doctor’s lessons, feeling that a “puny human” was “unworthy” to teach him, and “it would be nothing new anyway, Y/N, I am a god and the way better wizard, I know it all already.”

What he was about to tell you back then was some kind of crazy emergency-plan: Dangerous, unpredictable and escpecially untested.

“I’ve only read about this tactic up until now” the mage pondered loudly as he picked at his goatee, earning some childish giggles by you and Tony. “So I cannot promise that it will function as planned. The Multiverse is dangerous and acts in unforseen ways.”

“Very reassuring” you had mocked at the time, not really biding the topic any importance or thought ever again.

But now...

The trick sounded way simpler than it actually was, being as complex as it is only natural for something like that, costing a huge prize at that:

Dr. Strange would send any of you who were on the brink of death through a portal, thus leading you into a random dimension of this endless Multiverse.

That dimension, in which your alternate self has most likely died, will gladly accept you as a “replacement”. Some kind of what Peter Parker called a “glitch” will occur, instantly healing all of your wounds - even fatal ones, so you could remain in the timeline that was missing you. 

Yet the consequences of this maneuvre would be unspeakable.

_____

“That bastard...” you gnarled internally, finally realizing why you would remember this of all things after apparently having just taken your dying breath. “He didn’t just-”

Eventually, you realized having escaped death’s grip, slowly beginning to regain your senses - yet still refusing to open your eyes.

“I don’t want to leave this place. My friends -- will I never see them again? No. NO! Life is meaningless. Just let me be with him. Please! Loki...”

“’Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

‘Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you

And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you”

Another part of Strange’s lesson echoed in your head, revealing that you were now in fact up on your own.

“Not even I can tell just how much this timeline will differ from what you know. Of course I will search for you right away, but considering the countless possibilities, it might very well be that we’ll never meet again. But you’re alive, and hopefully safe. That’s all that counts.”

Grass tickled your palm as you twitched your fingers, testing the limits of your body, which had literally just tricked death. Suddenly, you felt a stinging pain, almost like lightning boring into your temportal. The origin of this pain remained unknown.

When you finally found the courage to sit up, your flesh still feeling as heavy as lead, you realized that Stephen was most likely wrong: He assumed that you’d find yourself in a place you had a deep connection with, yet that place was unrecognizable to you.

Then why were you here of all places?

Actually, this location was incredibly beautiful, managing to stop the aching in your heart, if only for the fraction of a second.

Your former lover would’ve loved this place.

“'Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

'Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you

And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you”

Even though not all of Dr. Strange’s speculations were correct, you decided to stick to his emergency plan: Find as much information about this “new” earth as possible, point out the differences to your initial one, and then contact the Dr. Strange of this dimension.

Two mages working on crossing each other’s path would at least higher the stakes to find your original timeline.

Well, no one could guarantee you that the Avenger’s existed on this timeline, and they could as well be evil in this one...what a weird and horrifying imagination.

Knowledge really was power - that was another thing Loki had taught you a long time ago, and it would prove valuable, especially in this situation.

As you wandered this surprisingly extensive garden and getting lost in admiring the beauty of it’s nature, you found yourself devoid of any weapons. That fact made you slightly uncomfortable, even though your current location seemed absent of any ememies, making a peaceful impression. 

Seemingly there weren’t any evil schemes going on in this dimension.

It basically were only minor differences, at least that was your first impression. At least there were no changes in natural laws or something as big.

“I miss the days where magic and science didn’t mix up like this” you whispered, mainly to yourself as you examined the new, large scar on your abdomen - the only memory left of your “almost-suicide-mission”.

To be more precize: The only thing left from your former life, now leaving you able to start completely anew, wether you wanted it or not.

Sun had almost drowned behind the horizon, diving the sky in a deep orange. Your eyes were still adjusting, yet you could’ve sworn to see the silhouette of a person. It was far away, at the entrance on what appeared to be a palace belonging to this garden.

Apparently, you had invaded someone’s propery, and you could only pray that it was noone important - or worse, a owner who would defend their ground with violence.

You don’t think your earth had a place this...flashy. The castle was way bigger than any you knew on the other timeline. The first difference you had figured out, yet it was only a minor one.

Maybe the headache you were experiencing was from someone making you  out as an intruder?

One thing was sure: You had been noticed, and you immediately were on high alert.

Where to run to or at least hide?

There was a maze made out of bushed parting you and the palace, and since there was no better option, you’d enter it. Talking to that person and convincing them of your goodwill would make it way easier to gain information.

“You may come out” you declared as you made your way, unable to evaluate the situation properly. “I mean no harm. I’m just lost.”

Was it dangerous to be here? Obviously, you were not allowed to be here anyway.

However, when you had finally found the escape to that maze, only several hundret meters away from the building, the person was already gone.

Had your mind just played a dirty trick on you again? Wouldn’t be the firt time it’d betray you like this...

No. You clearly felt someone watching you.

And as soon as your senses had sharpened to your usual self again, you instantly jumped back, gaining some distance to the Citauri that had just appeared behing you.

Shit! You weren’t ready to fight again just yet. Not like this.

And where one of those vile beasts were, many others would appear. You knew that much.

Had Thanos invaded this earth? Oh god, not again...not him. You were so damn tired of those fights, escapes and especially the pain that always inevitable followed after.

Just when it was about to swing it’s weapon at your head, you felt dizziness crawl up your nerves, making you collapse on the floor. Lucky for you, because only like that, the stike didn’t hit you.

Even though having been taught basic magic skills, that certain kind of spell you were unable to fight against - only true masters of the art were able to perform a sorcery that well.

The Chitauri had left your line of sight, yet the other figure from before reappeared in a pace so fast that your eyes couldn’t follow. They sweeped you off the floor just before your head would meet the hard pavement.

“And now you will answer to me, shapeshifter.”

Once again someone robbed you of the control of your life and body, leaving you without a free will.

How long had you been passed out now? You didn’t know and honestly didn’t care either - since you had nothing to lose anymore.

In the meantime, the owner of those lands had dismissed his guards, not wanting to be disturbed as he was left alone with you in the giant throne room.

The apparent ruler of that unclassified location was sitting on his throne, warily observing you from above. You were lying to his feet at the bare floor, every piece of clothing robbed from you and restrained by a pile of chains. He watched every twitch, all breaths you’d take or groans escaping your mouth until you would finally awake.

Oh, how you really were just like he remembered you, with every little detail he had adored.

At long last, you would finally open your lids again, blinking heavily as you took in your surroundings - but when your eyes met certain emerald ones, they immediately sprung wide open, the emptiness in your heart being filled with all kinds of emotions once again.

The man - it was him!

“'Cause you are, you are

Oh, you are

Oh, you are

You are'Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

'Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you”

“Loki!” you screamed from the bottom of your heart. Without a single coherent thought, your legs would carry on their own as your weakened body stumbled in their attempt to climb those stairs.

For both of you, that momend of reuinion had waited far too long.

The god was temptated to approach you, his trembling hands already reaching out to catch your fragile body should you fall - but suddenly, you felt his knuckles digging into your cheekbone.

“Stay away from me, you fake!” Loki yelled furiously as you hit the ground, rubbing your cheek as you tried to understand what just happened.

Yeah, that sure brought you back to reality again, after such a short high.

Right.

That isn’t your Earth - and not your Loki either.

You couldn’t even be sure this world’s Y/N and Loki had the same kind of relationship the two of you had back in your timeline! The only thing you knew was that he knew you from his past, but as it seemed not pleasantly.

Now that you looked closely, he even had less scars, almost looking untouched and pure - like a true, invincible god. Maybe life here had treat him well, unlike his counterpart from your timeline.

He was still wearing that excessive outfit with the golden horns, and much to both your amazement and fear, it seemed that he still possessed theTesseract.

Could it be...

Before you could connect the dots, the king would soon interrupt your string of thoughts. “Drop that disguise, scum!”

Loki kept on degrading you as he paced in front of his throne, brow sinking deeper and deeper. “Don’t think you can somehow appeal to those pathetic sentiments” he explained, “I’ve freed myself from them long ago. Just stop making a fool out of yourself, and maybe I’ll reward it with a quicker death.”

Yet when he saw your most innocent smile, even this Loki would stand frozen in place, deeply in shock.

How he yearned to see it, all those years - to tell you just how sorry he was for everthing he’s done.

No.

He had left all of this behind - to claim his birthright and rule.

“I-I’m deeply so-sorry...that is a mistake” you whimmered with a broken voice, wiping a tear of joy out of your face. “My feelings overwhelmed me, I guess. I’ve never thought to see you again, even if you’re not the same Loki I know.”

Still cowering on the floor, you looked up to him with compassionate eyes, as if he had not just beat you before. You did not dare to make any more, wanting for Loki to try and understand himself.

“A variant?” he gnarled, just like you did when he realized.

No force in the world had allowed him to access other parts of the Multiverse, no matter how desperately he tried - and now fate had literally dropped you in front of his door.

Loki balled his fists in anger, making you flinch as you anticipated yet another blow.

“Dear, I-”

“Shut up!” the God of Mischief shoutet, causing his magic to break free. The walls of the palace were shaking, most windows and furniture having been destroyed. “It’s no use, woman!”

That man was way more powerful than the “puny god” people called names back on Asgard - and his sheer might made you quiver.

Just what kind of monster had he become, and why?

“L-Loki, please...” you tried to appeal to the last bit of humanity  he might possess, and your begging made his guts twist in agony. “You’re scaring me.”

“You better be scared!” he exclaimed, grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to look at him. “No matter what disgracefully weak “alter ego” of me you knew, I am built different. Stronger. Better. Everyone in the Nine Realms fears me, and I desire nothing else! Everything distracting me from fulfilling my destiny and reign over you dull creatures I got rid of. You’re nothing more than an insect I might as well crush right here and now!”

Choking on a sob, he tried to relish that last chance he got to admire you, smell you, touch what he cannot possess...no matter how many universes there may be.

A flood of tears cracked down your face at his words, yet you couldn’t be helped.

No matter what he would say - he looked just like him.

And that was enough for you to feel alive after such a long time of being a walking dead. There had to be a reason you landed right at his home, of all places in this universe. You had a connection, both of you felt it ever since you had been transported here.

"May I ask-” you disrupted yourself, awaiting some reaction. But the conqueror had seemed to have spoken what he thought important to say, not declining your question at all.

Whenever he seemed fit, he could disintegrate you - yet right now, this situation was way too intriguing.

“What happened to myself in this reality?”

Loki swallowed harshly, letting go off of you as he threw you down the stairs. He wouldn’t even bide you one look as he tried to surpress the turmoil of emotion still running through his veins, desperately keeping it from breaking free.

The outcome would always be the same: Suffering, for both of you.

“And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you.”

He only ever wanted it to stop hurting. To become unfeeling, since love had always been poisoning his mind, sometimes being gifted with it even though he knew he would never be worthy of anything else than disgust and hate.

And that contradiction caused him to throw away anything good that happened to him, through you. Let it be taken away from him just shortly after finally learning to remotely enjoy.

You deserved the truth, a reason to hate him even more than you probably already did.

Had you only come to his salvation earlier, then he might have been helped - yet now, he was beyond redemption. Broken. Sick. Dangerous.

And when the Chitauri dragged you away, his last words let your blood run cold:

“She died through my hands.”

_____

If you want to get on the taglist (or deleted from lmao) feel free to ask! ♡

Feedback is always appreciated!

[vanilla-vivillon]

So since y’all seemed to like Kanej kid, let’s do Zoyalai kid. Also David isn’t dead in this because it is to sad

||ROW SPOILERS||

TW, this has brief mentions of infertility and describes labor, nothing to graphic just talks about how painful it is

After the wedding zoya and Nikolai were both excited to start a family

Nikolai; while he adores his sister Linnea and his father, never really was able to grow up in a loving household

He never wanted that for his children

He and Vasily had a horrible relationship growing up and he wanted to di everything in his power to make sure his kids had a healthy sibling relationship

Zoya on the other hand never really thought she’d have kids

Before everything went down she kinda assumed she’d work as a general and work to help Grisha

She never thought she’d have children

That obviously had to change

The country needed heirs

Zoya already decided that since she was probably gonna live a loooooong time, when her heir came of age she would step down; that way she wouldn’t love for a super long time.

Now that Zoya was gonna have children she wasn’t honestly sure about

What if they hold her back?

What if she gives up to many duties for them?

But higher the all these other worries she didn’t want to turn into her own mother

No matter how much Nikolai assured her that never will happen

Zoya still had worries

Zoya was a lot of things but motherly she was not

Nevertheless in February Zoya and Nikolai told there friends they were expecting

They were all incredibly happy for them

Tamar loved children although she herself didn’t want any and couldn’t wait to teach the kid things like how to ride a horse or shoot

Tolya objected saying the kid should be well educated on poatry and great works that way the Nazyalensky dynasty might be somewhat pious

Genya was hoping for a girl. Genya and David had there son Forrest earlier that year and Genya was already planning play dates

David was happy for his friends and had already started on projects for toys for the kid

When they wrote Mal and Alina they were ecstatic

While Mal gave tips on how to handle babies to Nikolai

Alina with her wiles and years of friendship with Zoya figured out all the way from Keramzin Zoya was worried

She wrote “Zoya babe imma cut to the chase, your nervous, your scared, your probably worried you’ll turn out to be a horrible mother. And imma tell you your not. Cause you’ve got an amazing freaking team. You’ve got Nikolai, Magnus, Linnea, and Genya and David, the twins, and of course myself. There’s no way in hell we’d let you turn out horrible to the kid. We’ve got you”

It helped Zoya a lot

She decided it was orphan wiles that Alina used to diagnose her exact problem from the letter she wrote to her

And Zoya did have wonderful people to help her

She wasn’t alone

Zoya had been trying to remember that more

Three months along Zoya was safely into Trmester two and it was time to tell the public

This was crucial to the monarchy

While zoya and Nikolai were popular

They needed an heir to convive people of the security of the nation

They made a public speech announcing the baby and Ravka went wild

If there’s one thing Ravkans know how to do it’s rally around babies

Letter came pouring in from name suggestions to old wives tales

They said Rosemary made the baby healthier

They said they should name there child Plumje

Well the Plumje comment was from some Kerch girl Zoya found strange but never mind that

The announcement was huge

The people had hope

Hope that wolves wouldn’t come knocking

Hope that there boys and girls wouldn’t be drafted

Hope for peace

While the people rejoiced Zoyas pregnancy was getting tougher

She had a easy enough first trimester but the second? That was rough

The morning sickness was bad

Her Healer; a no nonsense Fjerdan Women said that the vomiting wasn’t something that could be healed

And so Zoya suffered on

Zoya insisted on keeping her normal schedule

Her usual meetings with Grisha and the spy’s

Passive agressive letters to the Kerch

Aggressive aggressive letters to the shu

And trying to figure out whether or not there was a revolution group in the Wandering Isle

Zoyas schedule was already stressed and the baby wasn’t helping

Eventually her healer; Monika, put her foot down

“Your Magesty” She started “if you do not alleviate your stress I guarantee your pregnancy will be worse”

“Look Monika I can handle a little throw up”

Monika and Zoya attended the little palace together

While Monika was a healer and back then the animosity between corporalki and etherealki were high, they were friends

It was good to have a powerful healer in your corner when half the little palace hates you

And it was good to have a powerful squaller in your corner when your Fjerdan and in enemy territory

“Zoya you are endangering your child” Monika stated

By this statement Nikolai had enough

And zoya finally listened

Nikolai assumed some of her duties and Zoya started to feel a bit better

Her second trimester was stressful for there relationship

Nikolai had a hard time understanding zoya

And Zoyas fears started to grow

But they were a good couple

And they worked through tension before

Zoya opened up about her worries of being a competent queen with a child

She leaned on Nikolai more

And they worked together to fix the damage

By the end of her second trimester there relationship was healthier

And they thought the third couldn’t be as bad

In a way they were right

Her morning sickness while still present was significantly less then her second trimester

However I new thing arose

A question that everyone had been thinking

“What if the baby is Grisha?”

The Ravkans had accepted a Grisha queen

But a Grisha dynasty was another thing

Monika told them outright that the baby was probably Grisha

Being Grisha tended to run in families

And Zoya was fairly sure her paternal grandmother was also a squaller

The whole science of Grisha heritage wasn’t studied well

Most Grisha were in Ravka in the second army

And most of the soldiers don’t have children

Zoya also learned her new found ability to sense Grisha wasn’t fool proof

Sometimes she couldn’t tell at all

And in Genyas case of being somewhere between a corporalki and materialki, she couldn’t tell what she was

She also couldn’t sense anything in Forrest Kostyk

That meant they couldn’t rely on Zoyas power

Nikolai couldn’t help but think tracing heritage would be easier if he wasn’t a bastard

His mother’s line was easy

She was a Fjerdan princess so he could trace everything back from the very start

And from his mother not a drop of Grisha blood ran through his veins

His fathers got murky

Magnus didn’t come from nobility

He was self made

A self made orphan

So other then his father neither he nor Magnus knew anything about Grisha influence

Nevertheless they had other worries

Zoya was in her third trimester and was going to give birth any minute now

Zoya honestly didn’t think she would make it this far

And that has nothing to do with her fears of motherhood

Her own mother had four miscarriages

Pregnancy complications were common

Especially in Ravka where most couldn’t afford mediks

But now that the due date was fast approaching Zoya was in fact okay

Zoya can handle pain, she’s handled much worse

Labor was one of the least of her worries

The due date was October eighth

And on time and punctual Zoya went into labor during lunch

Nikolai joked it would be a good trait for a ruler to show up on time

However Zoya was in to much pain to think about a snarky retort

She had vastly underestimated how much this would hurt

The pain was blinding

But Zoya was strong enough to survive the fall

And so in 3:07 PM son October eighth

Prince Mycanae Juris Nazyalensky was born (prounounced My-kuh-nay-uh because I threw some random vowels together and made it a name)

Myca (My Kuh) for short

With a tuft of chocolate brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes he shone

Nikolai absolutely adored him

He would rock him and sing him lullabies

But mostly tell him stories

About the amazing Privateer Sturmhond

Of the allusive Juris

Of the little termite

Zoya in the other hand had a different approach to there newborn

When he first cried she was elated

Zoya didn’t hold back the tears of happiness and didn’t even swear the healers to secrecy after

Zoya was the epitome of

“Oh god it’s a baby, as I holding him wrong? Does he have the right clothes on? He’s so fragile and precious”

Monika had to tell her three times that Myca’s crib was fine for him and it wasn’t to hard

However the family’s elation was short lived

They were a family

But they were also the rulers of Ravka

And Ravka needed to see the face of there hope

Four hours after his birth Nikolai presented him before the nobility

Zoya still wasn’t feeling to great and Nikolai Insisted he could do it

This is what the Ravkans needed

The baby met stability

Met peace

For once in many years the people could lay down in there beds without fear

But to Zoya and Nikolai

There baby wasn’t a political tool

Or a savior

He was just a baby

A perfect

Small

Baby

This is what love does.

Im really proud of myself for accomplishing this. I worked really hard on it and to keep our characters in canon. My ask box is open and n do any Grishaverse asks

If this gets 25 likes I’ll do a part two 😉

I defo think Nikolai and Zoya would have more then one kid

Also I kid you not I couldn’t find any good names for the life of me so I eventually took a break and was doing my History homework when I was reading some old Greek thing and saw the word “Mycenae” and was like “Yeah I can massively mispronounce this and make it a name”

Here is part two https://dablackdahlia.tumblr.com/post/651104016423583744/the-black-dahlia

I also made a Kanej kid one here

[pair-annoyed]

Anime I Watched This Fall

My first semester of college is officially over and the December holidays are upon us! I hoped to make one of these posts sooner, but I have been incredibly busy with schoolwork. Now that things have slowed down, let’s take sometime to reflect on things I’ve watched. 

These anime are listed in chronological order and encompass everything I’ve watched from 9/1/2020 - 12/15/2020

Like always, they will be rated on a 1-10 scale; 1 meaning complete garbage, 10 meaning masterpiece. I will offer my thoughts on what I did/didn’t like about each show!

1. The God of High School - 6/10 

Despite the stellar animation from MAPPA and my high expectations, I was really disappointed by how this series was treated. Most of the story’s crucial elements were handled poorly. I finished this series feeling more confused about the plot than when I first began. The power system is really cool, but poorly explained. More time should have been spent on exposition and world building for this series, instead the fights were given the most screen time. 

2.  Doukyuusei - 7/10 

I really liked the style of Doukyuusei. Granted, this was another movie I chose to watch primarily because of the hype surrounding it. The dynamic between Kusakabe and Sajou is an interesting one, and I also enjoy how the movies different acts were separated by the seasons. However, there's nothing that really sets Doukyuusei apart from other romance movies, its a little generic. Still, I enjoyed it nonetheless. 

3.  Re:Zero kara Hajimeru Isekai Seikatsu 2nd Season - 8/10 

My opinions on Re:Zero’s second season are biased. This was, by far, the sequel I was most hyped for during the summer/fall anime season. I was so happy to see the story’s continuation and I’m looking forward to the season’s second part coming sometime in January. Re:Zero is one of my all time favorite series because of the way it handles it characters and power dynamics. I also really enjoy the show’s psychological aspects. If you haven’t already, give Re:Zero a try! 

4. Saint☆Oniisan (Movie + OVA) - 8/10

This was a wonderful comedy. I wasn’t sure how the subject of Jesus and Buddha living together would be tackled, but it was handled wonderfully. I was laughing for pretty much the entire movie. I love the art style and little references to both Buddhism and Christianity, plus the incorporation of Japanese culture. Saint Oniisan is a bright comedy, with two eccentric main characters. If you like a show that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and need a good laugh, I can’t recommend this more.

5. Clannad: After Story - 10/10 

Never, while watching anime, did I cry as much as I did while watching Clannad: After Story. I didn’t realize how much I related to Okazaki until I saw him grow up in After Story. I was left sobbing, especially after episode 18. I still, to this day, cannot listen to the Dango song without tearing up. The original Clannad is nothing special, but the continuation of its story its something heartfelt, emotional, and down-to-earth. I love Kyoto Animation with all my heart, and Clannad made me appreciate everything the studio has done just a little bit more. Thank you Clannad, for reminding me about the kind of person I strive to be. 

6. Nakitai Watashi wa Neko wo Kaburu - 5.5/10

The art in A Whisker Away was beautiful. The story itself, however, is nothing too enjoyable. I found it difficult to like our protagonist or her love interest. Nothing about this movie is inherently memorable. The emotional climax came far too early which made the second half of the film seem long and drawn out.  All in all, the movie has a wonderful concept, I just believe it could have been so much more emotional than it was. When I watch a move, I like to empathize with the characters. It’s difficult to do when the characters aren’t given the proper exposition to be empathized with. 

7.  Shikioriori - 6/10

This is less of a movie and more of a collection of short stories. Flavors of Youth is something you shouldn’t watch on an empty stomach, all of the food looks incredible. The same cannot beside for the rest of this feature. The stories themselves seems heavily clichéd. Much like A Whisker Away, the initial premise is intriguing, but the execution results in something that comes across as trying too hard and carries no emotional weight with the viewer. If you plan on watching, pay more attention to the artwork and animation than the actual plot. You won’t be missing anything. 

8. Vinland Saga - 7/10

Vinland Saga helped me get out of the rut that Clannad: After Story. Not only does this show have a great story, its action packed with lots of interesting fights. I especially enjoyed all the Nordic history embedded within the show. Its really unlike any of the other historical anime I’ve watched. I will say, it’s gory. But, compared to all the other things I watched this time around, I finished this series the quickest. Its good, its graphic, its fast paced! 

9.  Mononoke Hime - 7/10

It’s ironic considering how much anime I’ve watched that I have yet to watch all of the most classic Studio Ghibli films. Princess Mononoke is grittier than most other Ghibli films I’ve seen, but it’s message is positive and its characters are wonderful. I can’t really speak ill towards classics like these. I guess maybe my one complaint is that this movie could’ve been a faster pace. Other than that... I really enjoyed everything Princess Mononoke offered! I understand why it’s so popular.  

10. Howl no Ugoku Shiro - 8.5/10 

Can you believe it took me this long to finally watch Howl’s Moving Castle? Me neither!! This movie is so endearingly beautiful. I loved every second of it, from the characters to the soundtrack. So many iconic things come from just this one movie. I would like to take this time to thank my best friend for reminding me that Studio Ghibli films are wonderful! Thank you for watching this with me, I loved it! All in all, I regret not watching this sooner! 

11. Toradora! - 6.5/10 

Toradora took me a while to finish, just because I lost interest about halfway through. But, I powered through it, and ended up really enjoying the show! I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but that’s just a personal preference. Somehow, this show also made me cry? I’m not entirely sure why because Toradora! is probably the thing farthest from sad. Apart from the show’s dull slice of life moments, it was super cute! A much needed light-hearted romance. 

12. New Initial D Movie: Legend 1 - 5/10 

Full disclosure, this is the only thing related to Initial D that I’ve ever watched. My band and I watched this expecting to hear some of that iconic Initial D music, itself all we got was a mildly confusing story about different types of cars. It was cliché and frankly a little boring. Although, I am still considering watching the original Initial D just so I can hear the music in the way it was original intended. I’ve got no other opinions on this movie. It’s best not to watch these movies without the context from the rest of the franchise.  

13.  Uchuu Patrol Luluco - 7.5/10

I didn’t really understand why people enjoy studio Trigger so much until I watched Space Patrol Luluco. I loved all the fun references to other studio Trigger works. I loved the humor, and I loved all the bright colors. The animation was extremely high energy, and the art style fits the show’s premise. Each episode was only 12 minutes long so it was a super quick binge. If you’re looking for something quick, light-hearted and comical, this is the perfect show to watch.

14. Orange - 7/10 

I owe a big thanks to a tumblr mutual for recommending this show to me! This holds the honor of making me cry by episode 3! I honestly did not expect the subject matter of this show to be as dark as it was. Usually when I see the genre ‘shoujo’ I do not associate it with a love story like that of Orange. The heavy subject matter made it a little too close to home for me, but I still really enjoyed this series. It reminds me off all the good times I had with my friends in high school, and of all the regrets I carry with myself to this day. 

15. 3-gatsu no Lion - 7.5/10 

March Comes in Like a Lion is another show that was a bit of a slow burn for me. Each episode left me feeling emotionally drained, so I had to take a lot of breaks while I was working on watching this series. Shaft, the studio behind this anime, holds a special place in my heart because I loved their work on the Monogatari Series. March Comes in Like a Lion is a little different. It’s driving force it is characters, and it was cathartic to watch our main character transform through the entire duration of the first season. I know the show’s second season is much better, so I’ll be starting that soon! 

16. Yojouhan Shinwa Taikei - 8/10 

I loved how artsy and smart The Tatami Galaxy is, but honestly I couldn’t watch too much at once cause it would hurt my head. I also couldn’t watch this show while I was tired because the speaking rate is much faster than typical anime. The Tatami Galaxy is so unique for its medium. I loved the different time loops and the crazy animation. The characters were fascinating. The dialogue, although very fast, it also fantastic. There’s an element of humor to this unique story telling, and I enjoyed ever minute of it! 

Currently Watching:

Hunter x Hunter - 6.5/10 (As of Episode 30)

I pride myself in having watched a lot of shounen anime, but I was reluctant to start Hunter x Hunter for years because I thought I would find it boring. I was oh so very wrong. Considering great shows like Naruto and Fairy Tail that fall under the same category, I expected Hunter x Hunter to be subpar in comparison. It gets a low score for two reasons. One, the power system was introduced a little too late and now I’m wondering if all the fights post episode 30 will involved nen in some way, shape, or form. Two, its still on hiatus. 

Two Cursed Additions For This List

Please to do not let these be representative of my anime taste. 

1.  Yarichin☆B*tch-bu - 4/10

I am a CLOWN for not knowing this was 18+. The only reason I watched this was to see why everyone was talking about the pink-haired boy with the glasses and tongue piecing. I know why now, and I regret it. This was a massive mistake on my part. But hey, at the least the art and ending song kinda slap? 

2. Euphoria (Dropped After 1 Episode) - 2/10

If you know what I’m talking about when I say Euphoria, I am so sorry. And no, I am not talking about the HBO series. Seriously, don’t google this. Don’t watch this. Don’t interact with anything related to this. You’re probably wondering, “Then why did you watch it?” I did not watch this willingly. You see, I have a very bad habit of starting anime and then taking months to finish them. I made an ultimatum with a friend, lost, and then was forced to watch this a punishment. Not a fun experience. I’m very glad there are no GIFs of this on tumblr...

[cardiophileanonymous]

Late Night Errands Chapter 1

Mulder x Reader

Summary: The reader is a paralegal preparing to help defend her client on trial in a week. The stress has finally convinced her to go out and get a stethoscope to help calm her down. Little does she know a certain agent was watching her out while she was out late at night, and it makes her a prime suspect in his eyes.

Y/n= your name

Y/f/n Y/l/n= your first and last name

B/f/n= your best friend’s name

...

Y/n slammed the door shut then started to punch the sides of the steering wheel. What in the world was going through her mind? Of course this store wouldn’t have any stethoscopes! Even if it was a pharmacy. People don’t have stuff like that lying around in their homes. Not normal people, anyway. What was she gonna say to the employee when they inevitably asked why she was looking for one? “Oh, I don’t need one, I just want it for my weird-ass heartbeat kink!” Yeah, that was one conversation she didn’t want to have.

She silently stared at the moon for a few brief moments. Why couldn’t she have a normal kink like everyone else? Like feet, maybe. It still would’ve been weird, but dammit, at least she’d be able to find porn of it. The best she could find easily was cardiophilia fanfiction, and even then, it was scarce.

She snuck glances around the parking lot. Nobody in sight. So hopefully, nobody would notice the blush on her face when she brought up an hour long “asmr heartbeat” video for the sake of calming herself down.

She smiled in bliss. When a heartbeat was in the background, it was like everything melted away. She groaned in frustration when she heard a text from her friend, B/f/n.

Don’t forget we’re having lunch tomorrow! I’m taking your mind off that trial if it’s the last thing I do!

She was double pissed now that the stress of last week filled her head. She was a paralegal, and one of her clients was set to go on trial less than a week from now. It was the oddest case she’d ever seen. The case of Bill Brown.

The man had killed exactly one-hundred people in the span of less than half a year. And the details he gave were chilling. They were vivid and graphic. So, he must’ve been a sociopath or something, right? Well he was super remorseful. And upon turning himself in, that’s right, turning himself in, he sobbed for three days straight. What’s strangest was he claimed he didn’t know they happened until the memories came back to him that night.

She wouldn’t have believed it either, if he didn’t point to bodies that hadn’t been found yet. He helped officers uncover at least a quarter of his victims.

It gave everyone working in his defense a headache. Argue innocence and a false confession? He flat out admitted details the public didn’t know. Did they argue insanity? He seemed pretty fucking sane during interviews and psych evaluations. Self defense? Not in a million years.

What got at her was the genuine feeling he was innocent, and that someone, or something, could be out there. The idea of being out there in the city alone with it out and about gave her the creeps.

“Whatever,” she whispered, turning the audio up so she could return to her blissful ignorant state. Where everything melted away. Where she was actually pretty happy with a smile on her face. With that, she began to drive away.

…

All she could think about when she finished getting dressed was the trial. The trial, the trial, the trial. This was gonna be the biggest train wreck she would ever see in her career, and she had only become a paralegal a mere three years ago. She didn’t envy the defense attorneys she was working under.

Her thoughts were interrupted by three knocks at the door. Strange, she wasn’t expecting anyone today, except for B/f/n, and she was always late for everything.

She looked through the peephole to see two people in fancy clothing outside. She opened the door just a crack.

“H-hello…?”

“Y/f/n Y/l/n,” the man asked. Y/n nodded hesitantly. The man speaking held up the badge and the woman behind him did the same. “Agents Mulder and Skully, FBI. We have a few questions about your client. The one who’s set to go on trial next week.”

She turned her head to the side.

“I’m sorry, I think you might be mistaken. I-I’m not an attorney, I’m just a paralegal.”

“Oh, we’re not mistaken. That’s exactly why we wanted to talk to you.”

She looked inside her apartment real quick, then back at them.

“Okay… come on in. Just come in quickly so the cat doesn’t get out. She has a habit of running outside.”

She was internally grateful that her friend talked her into going out for lunch. She would’ve felt embarrassed if she had had to talk to these well dressed professionals in her pajamas. Skully knelt down, petting Y/n’s cat that had just walked up to the two.

“Um… would you like tea or anything? I’m about to make some for myself now.”

Skully lifted up one of her hands while she let the small animal nuzzle into her other one.

“That won’t be necessary. We plan to be out as soon as possible.”

“O-okay… um... I’m guessing you’re here to ask about Bill Brown?”

Mulder nodded.

“That’s correct.”

“I… don’t really understand. He’s set to go on trial less than a week from now. Why is the FBI getting involved? I thought this was settled, more or less.”

“We think he may be the wrong guy. We’re investigating a series of murders strikingly similar to the ones he supposedly committed a year and a half ago. We need to look at some of the previous evidence and cross examine it with the crimes happening now.”

She still seemed unconvinced.

“Why haven’t you gone to my firm? Or better yet, the police? I-I’m sure they have everything on file.”

Mulder shook his head.

“The lawyers won’t speak to us. And the police department doesn’t want to reopen the investigation when they’re so close to closing it. They don’t want to cause panic.”

She nodded. That actually wasn’t that hard a story to believe, considering the people she worked with on a daily basis. She just looked around the room.

“Okay… you might want to rethink my offer about the tea, then. And have a seat. Because this’ll take a long time.”

...

She presented them with a long list of documents. Some images, most legal papers. She pulled out the two things that were most of interest to her, a map of where the killings took place as well as a few images of supposed murder weapons.

“I’m not really sure what you’re looking for, so here's everything, I guess.”

Skully started flipping through the legal papers, reading passages of the man’s confession. Y/n’s cat slipped under Skully’s arms and laid on her lap as she continued to read. Mulder took a keen eye to the map.

“When did these murders take place?”

“Um, September 14th through February 10th, sir.”

“And he moved here the day these murders started, correct?”

“C-c-correct. You… didn’t already know this?”

“Oh I did. I just wanted to make sure you did. Encyclopedic knowledge of a case is the sign of a good paralegal, don’t you think?”

“Oh!” She let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Thanks…”

“Tell me, Y/n. What do you think happened?”

“Well, the evidence clearly shows he’s guilty, so… we are going to be arguing that he did these crimes due to mania and insanity.”

“No, Y/n. What do you really think?”

She looked down, and started to get finicky. She sat up straight.

“I think he’s innocent… and I have a theory about what happened. But… I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

Skully raised an eyebrow.

“Why haven’t you brought it up with any of the defense attorneys?”

She looked away, then back at the both of them.

“You won’t… tell anyone, right? I don’t wanna lose my job because everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

Mulder nodded expectantly.

“Of course not. Now, what did you find?”

She flipped through the papers.

“While they were at his house… they found a lot of these DVDs.” She was somewhat mumbling under her breath. When she pulled out the image she presented it to Mulder. “I’ve looked them up and they’re all from a lesser known hypnotist.”

Mulder read the bottom of the DVD covers.

“Hannah Martin?”

“...yes. I’ve tried to find those specific DVDs myself, on her website or Amazon or whatnot, but, uh, I can’t find them.”

“Why do you find these significant?”

“Um… Skully, was it? May I please have the written interview?”

She handed it to her. Now that her hands were free, Skully began to pet the cat sitting on her legs, who purred in appreciation. She cleared her throat and began to read.

“Bill said ‘I moved to start a new life, I tried to smile every day, I helped my neighbors, I listened to hypnosis videos every night before bed to make me a better person. I did my best to turn my life around… but I guess I was a monster this whole time. Last night, my memories came back to me in my dreams. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…’”

Mulder nodded.

“So you think that the hypnosis videos he watched before bed may have mind controlled or influenced him into committing these crimes overnight?”

Her face began to turn red and a wave of feeling stupid hit her.

“I’m sorry! I know that sounds insane!”

“No, not to me.” She was in awe. He was actually entertaining her insane supernatural idea? “How far have you looked into this Hanna Martin?”

“You have to pay at least five-hundred dollars for her to create a hundred and fifty custom sessions to send to you personally through DVDs. Um, the first alleged murder was one hundred and forty-nine days before the last alleged murder. That day he confessed would be day one hundred and fifty.”

Mulder seemed incredibly interested. He gazed down at the image he was holding.

“Thank you for bringing this information to my attention. Can you please scan this and make a copy for me? I want to see if I can track down these DVDs.”

“O-okay!”

She was a little excited that her idea was being entertained. And, aside from that, this agent was very cute! So he was cute and as conspiracy crazy as she was?! She smiled like a dope when she was no longer being watched, her back to the two. She began making the copy.

“Another question for you, Y/n.”

She gulped. Something about this man saying her name made her stomach drop.

“Y-yeah…?”

“Do you go out at night often?”

The feeling of her stomach dropping was now from fear.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw your car parked outside the local drugstore late last night, any reason for it?”

She swallowed, hard. She was going for ulterior motives, but she was relieved she had something to fall back on.

“I was getting my medication. Um, I can show you if you want proof?”

“There’s no need to. But midnight is fairly late to be running errands like that, don’t you think?”

She breathed in.

“I couldn’t sleep. So I thought I might as well do something productive.”

He nodded. She turned to look at him, but she couldn’t quite read his face. Was he insinuating what she thought he was? Or was this all in her head? If he thought she was involved, he was probably crazy. She just laid out all this evidence to prove her client innocent, and possibly even helped point to the real killer, yet he thought she might be the guilty one?

“Did you happen to purchase anything from this hypnotist?”

“No, I don’t have that kind of money… and besides, i-if I am right, I don’t know if I would want to get anything from her.”

“Mhm.”

Her dopey smile and blush was gone by the time she handed the copied image to Mulder.

“I’m not sure about the legality of this…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it.”

She was a bit angry when they left. B/f/n was a bit confused walking in.

“What happened?”

“Ugh! The stupid FBI is involved in the case now. They wanted to see some stuff.”

She tilted her head to the side and her nose crinkled in disbelief.

“The FBI?”

“I don’t know either! Just… help me pick up these papers. Actually, don’t! I need to make sure they’re all in order before court in a few days!”

She nodded as Y/n began to put everything as they were supposed to be.

“...that guy was kind of cute.”

She sighed.

“I thought that, too. But actually, he’s a dick.”

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 12 "It's Already October?"

CW: PTSD themes, nightmares, insomnia, dishonesty about mental state, past noncon/dubcon mention, past abuse mention, emotional abuse, panic attack, tics/tourrettes, food mention, slapping mention, injury mention, blood, self harm (explicit), razor mention, bondage mention, drugs/alcohol (explicit), August is sort of in this one, oblivious caretaker, party setting, halloween setting (Let me know if I missed anything!)

(Note, as a general warning these two upcoming chapters are going to be pretty graphic with descriptions/intensity of the situation, and I really want to reinforce that I prefer if these stories are viewed by 18+ readers, and is read with discretion <3 -Crow)

The last time that Elias had talked to Allen, he had promised that things were going to start getting easier, that the pain and the fear would ebb and it would all begin to feel ok very soon. Elias was beginning to think that he had a different idea of 'soon' than Allen did, because he wasn't feeling like it was getting any better. If anything, it seemed like it was only going to keep getting worse. His nightmares were so violent and often that he didn't even put in effort to sleep anymore, he simply stayed up after the first time he was jolted out of his sleep. After that he would always sneak out of the room around Tyson and busy himself with something until he woke up as well. He was constantly tired, sure, but it was ridiculously hard to convince himself to close his eyes and force himself back into a nightmare once he was already awake. It made him feel incredibly ashamed, but he was getting rather good at hiding how much all of it was really wearing down on him from Tyson, how he wasn't allowing his injuries to heal, how he was always terrified and exhausted. Except that this didn't exactly go in his favor, because he was acting so good that Tyson decided he could go back to work.

"I'm not working the full shift, so I'll be back before you even know it. You'll probably sleep the whole time, won't even know I'm gone." He smiled at Elias, who was sitting at the edge of the bed watching him get ready. "If you need anything, you can call Leo or Allen, or me if you don't wanna call them."

Elias nodded, only out of obedience, he didn't want to bother anyone by calling them in the middle of the night. He could deal with it himself, just like he always did. "You look nice in your scrubs," he said, to deflect the attention off of himself, "like one of those hot doctors from that show."

Tyson laughed and flopped onto the mattress next to him. "Yeah? This pale blue really brings out my eyes, huh?" He melted as Elias laughed, the sound of it was light and, if he dared to think, happy. Maybe he was gonna be just fine, he seemed like he was doing alright so far. He was hopeful, and the fact that he was about to leave Elias alone all night and he was alright enough to be laughing had to be a good sign, right? It was ironic, but it seemed like Elias was less nervous about the whole situation than Tyson was. With a small sigh, he reached over and smoothed out a wrinkle on the sheets and mumbled, "I'm gonna miss you."

At that, Elias turned his gaze away from him, trying not to let his upset that he was leaving show. "You'll be too busy to miss me." He insisted, forcing as much humor into the sentence as possible.

"I highly doubt that." Tyson pulled him against his chest, kissing his cheek gently. When he thought about having to stand up to leave, dread filled his chest and weighed him down enough to stay put. He tried not to think about how someone might break in, how they might take Elias away from him again, how he would be powerless, so far away. August was in jail now, he reminded himself, Elias would be ok.

"You're gonna be late, Doctor." Elias teased him, pushing him away playfully. He smiled when Tyson sighed heavily and stood up, looking him up and down.

"Ok... I'll see you in the morning. Promise you'll call someone if anything happens?" He waited for Elias to nod, then grabbed his bag and turned to the door.

He only made it a few steps before he heard Elias stand up, his voice small and scared as he breathed, "Tyson, wait."

"Hm?" He looked over Elias, who had his arms wrapped around himself and looked like he might fall over any second. He was silent for a long time, squeezing his hands tightly around the materiel of his shirt, looking like he was too nervous to say what was on his mind.

"I love you," he finally muttered, "that's all. Have a good night."

Tyson grinned at him and crossed the room again to kiss him. "I love you too. Get some rest."

---------------------------------

Whatever movie was playing on the TV was boring, Elias couldn't seem to focus on it. He had been sitting on the couch the majority of the night, smoking weed every time he felt uneasy. He got up a few times to double-check that the door was locked, just to make himself feel a little better. It was painfully lonely without Tyson, without the simple knowledge that there was someone else in the house with him. He debated calling him, just to hear his voice, but he didn't want to take him away from his work. Then he wondered if maybe he should call Allen, that he might have some advice about being alone. Really he felt like he just needed someone to talk to, someone to tell him that he was doing alright.

"Everything you're doing is wrong," August was sighing, shaking his head disdainfully. The disappointed glare in his deep blue eyes could've killed Elias, made his chest ache so painfully every other injury he'd ever gotten from August paled in comparison. August was a monster, a sadistic devil of a man who's main goal seemed to be causing everyone else around him misery. So then, Elias found himself wondering time and time again, why was displeasing him so upsetting? Why did Elias feel like he was crumbling to pieces without his approval? "Tyson's too soft on you. But you know that, of course, don't you sweetheart?"

"I'm trying to do what you taught me it's just...he doesn't care. I don't know what to do."

"Yes you do. You've got to be punished, my love." Just like always, his voice was disgustingly honeyed, even as August grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the ground. Elias didn't even see him grab them, but there were the ropes again, tight around his wrists as always, and Elias couldn't move, and he could see the glint of the razor inching closer to his skin.

"August please God, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please I'll do better!" He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, August was going to slice into him again and he couldn't handle anymore pain.

"You know you need it, Elias. Remember, it's to help you be better. Don't you want to be better?" His voice was sweet, almost caring, even with the corner of the razor digging into his skin.

Elias didn't remember falling asleep, but all at once he was bolting off of the couch and gasping in frenzied breaths, looking around the dimly lit room for any sign of danger. He was alone still, there was no one with him. As soon as he realized it was only a nightmare, he blindly reached forward until his hand brushed the glass pipe on the table. He didn't waste any time pulling it toward him so that he could get high again. Even though the smoke made him cough, he felt like he could breathe a little better the foggier his head got. He checked his phone, disappointed when he saw Tyson hadn't checked up on him yet and that it would still be hours until he got back. Without meaning to, he thought back to the nightmare, what August was saying. His subconscious August, at least.

Would he feel better if someone hurt him? Would it make him stop lying and hiding what he was feeling if he just got into trouble for it once? He knew Tyson wouldn't ever lay a hand on him, and August was long gone. But the more he lingered on the idea, the more he realized how much he needed the pain. His anxiety only began to worsen again as he dwelled on it, so he stood up and tried to busy himself by cleaning up. It helped for a bit, he was mostly distracted enough that he didn't think of the nightmare or the idea of being punished, until he got to the bathroom.

He was paralyzed the second he saw the large straight razor sitting menacingly on the shelf of the medicine cabinet, similar to the one August had used on him. He could feel the sharpness of it without even touching it, he was familiar with the sting and the burn that came when it was dragged heavily against his skin, he remembered the dull soreness of the injuries when they started healing. What he didn't know was how it would feel to hold it, though, he had never been allowed to touch it in that way. He wondered how heavy it would be, if it would be cold or not. His hand was trembling as he reached out and picked it up, his breath bated as he looked it over. It was so god damn sharp. If someone were to hold it to his skin and just ruin him, he imagined it would probably be like pushing a reset button, like he would be brand new when it was all over. At the thought, he set it down and pulled his sweatshirt off, not even bothering to look at himself in the mirror, grabbing the razor again once his shirt was on the floor. There was nothing he wanted more than to cry at the dangerous thoughts running through his head, but at the same time this felt like the only option. He placed the razor over the healing cuts on his forearms, taking a few ragged breaths to gain some courage.

-----------------------------

Tyson felt bad when Elias flinched awake as he crawled into bed with him, he seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. He looked lost and scared as he sat up, squinting through the dark at Tyson.

"Just me, love. I was gonna come sleep with you for a bit, is that ok?" He asked him, finding his hand on the blanket and brushing his fingertips over it.

Elias's shoulders dropped back to relaxed and he moved closer to Tyson, allowing him to pull him against his chest as they laid back down. "How was work?" He whispered.

"It was alright. How was your night?" He rubbed up and down his back, trying not to be bothered as he felt his spine underneath his hand.

Elias was silent for a while, then he cleared his throat. "I missed you a lot. It was lonely here."

"Yeah, I bet. Did you sleep well? I mean, before I woke you up."

"Uh...yeah, sort of. I stayed up late though. Watched a movie." He snuggled closer to Tyson, against his bare chest, sighing at the warmth.

They talked for a little longer, until Tyson was too tired to stay awake, and then Elias just stayed close to him and listened to him breathing for a long time. He couldn't fall asleep again, mostly because he didn't want to wake Tyson up if he had a nightmare, but also because he couldn't get comfortable with all of the new cuts on his arms.

There was a lot more blood than Elias was expecting, and he was too shocked to move for a second as he watched the red ribbons stream down his skin, and then a sort of sick calm washed over him. He didn't remember it feeling this relieving when August did it, but, God, did it feel like a breath of fresh air. So he just kept going, and soon he was covered in blood, like he was used to, and he turned off the light and sat at the bottom of the shower for awhile until the bleeding stopped.

--------------------------

After the sun started to shine through the curtains, Elias slipped out of Tyson's arms carefully and made his way to the kitchen, busying himself by making breakfast. He made himself some coffee while he waited for the french toast to cook, then he began to cut up some fruit. It felt odd to hold the knife after hurting himself the night before, and he found himself shaking slightly. He was doing everything he could to stay busy, he felt like if he stopped moving he would sit down and fall asleep, and he couldn't handle another nightmare. He didn't want to see August anymore, he wanted it to really be over, and when he was dreaming about him it was like actually being around him again.

"That smells amazing." Tyson remarked as he came into the kitchen. Elias jumped hard, nearly dropping the knife that he was holding.

"Jesus," he huffed, trying to breathe so his heart would stop racing, "I didn't know you were awake."

Tyson sighed as he leaned against the counter, looking around at all the food. "I just woke up."

Tyson looked so good, his dark, curly hair was messy, his face was still tired and he was shirtless and his voice was gruff from sleep. Elias set the knife down as carefully as he could and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around his torso and hugging him close. "Well, good morning, then."

"Good morning. How long have you been awake?"

"Oh, uh...I um..."

"Did you go back to sleep after I got home?" He pulled away from Elias and inspected his face. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he couldn't really tell if it was from lack of sleep or the healing bruises. Tyson knew he was getting thinner from holding him, but now that he was looking at him harder, he could see it in his face, too. He frowned as Elias shook his head, then placed his hand over his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Elias choked out, fearful over the disdainful look on Tyson's face, "I tried to, I just couldn't...I just didn't wanna have another nightmare-"

"Hey, it's ok, love. You've got nothing to be sorry about."

Even though his voice was nothing but sweet and loving, Elias turned away from him with a frustrated sigh. "For fucks sake, Tyson!" He groaned, grabbing the counter to steady himself. "I'm fucking up so bad why cant you just, like, fucking yell at me or something!?"

Tyson was shocked at the outburst, gawking at him for a moment, left speechless. He was angry at him for not being angry? Allen had been similar when he first got back, tried everything he could think of to get the people around him to see that he was bad, that he was deserving of pain, but that stopped for the most part once he realized that the people around him were safe and wouldn't hurt him even if he wanted them to. He could see Elias shaking where he stood and he felt helpless in that moment, like there was no way he could comfort him.

"Elias," he said softly, stepping carefully toward him, "you have been through more pain and fear than anyone should have to deal with in their entire lifetime. I can't imagine how hard it is for you to adjust after that, and I'm not going to punish you because you're having a hard time."

Suddenly, Elias burst into tears, caving in on himself as his shoulders shook in sobs. "You don't understand! I'm so...I need...I need you to fucking...! God fuck Tyson!"

"Baby calm down." Tyson moved to grab his shoulders in some attempt to soothe him, but Elias turned and shoved his arms away, stumbling back from him. "Elias, please-"

"Shut the fuck up! Shut up Tyson, stop being so fucking nice to me!" He covered his face as he cried, sinking down to the floor with a thud. Tyson sat down across from him, hands to himself, and watched as he began to rock back and forth a little.

"I love you Eli-"

"Stop it! Please stop it!"

"-I love you so much and you're not doing anything wrong."

Elias only got more hysteric at that, his breathing so quick and labored that Tyson was worried he might pass out. When Elias began to tic and hit his injured hand against the ground, Tyson grabbed his wrist to hold him still. Elias fought harder, screaming to be let go, for Tyson to "stop fucking touching him!" and thrashing in his grip. He wasn't going to calm down, not like this, not on his own, and he was hurting himself, so Tyson had no other choice. In one quick movement, he slapped Elias across the face.

He felt bad instantly, of course, but Elias grew still, apart from his body trembling and his shoulders rising and falling with his labored breathing. He looked up at Tyson, fear etched into every detail of his face. After a few seconds of silence, he dropped his head down and took a deep breath.

"Th-thank you," he breathed, his voice just as shaky as his body, "thank you, Tyson."

Tyson shook his head, fighting the tears in his eyes as he stood up. "Come here."

Elias slowly pushed himself to his feet, sniffling a few times and trying to steady his breathing. He stiffened when Tyson grabbed his shoulders, only bowing his head further in submission. He fought the familiar dread he usually had when August was only just beginning a punishment, when he knew he was going to be weak and broken and near death in a moment. Logically, he knew Tyson wouldn't hurt him as bad as August would, but after being hit, his brain went right back to that same fearful, trained head-space.

"Look at me, baby," Tyson whispered. When Elias shook his head and grew even more tense, Tyson took a step toward him. "Eli, angel," he cooed, tilting his face up until he grudgingly made eye contact. "Are you ok?"

Elias nodded eagerly, eyes still wide and terrified. "M'ok." He insisted. Tyson knew it was just because he thought it was what he wanted to hear, he could still see the fear and the pain written on his face.

"I'm so sorry I hit you. I won't do it again." He wiped the tears from his face as he spoke. His cheek was red from where he hit him, and Tyson's heart sank further. "I love you so much, Elias, I never want to hurt you. Ever."

Elias forced a small smile, nodding his head. "It's ok. I love you." He flinched a fraction as Tyson stooped down to hug him, then melted into his arms. He closed his eyes and took a few more deep breaths. He counted to ten, then pulled away and cleared his throat. "Your breakfast is gonna get cold."

--------------------------------

Tyson couldn't be sure if it was just because he had been hit earlier and now wanted more than ever to please him or if he genuinely wanted to, but he was surprised when Elias insisted they go to Leo and Allen's for the Halloween party they'd been invited to. When Tyson brought it up, it was mostly just to let Elias know that they were thinking of him, that he had friends who wanted to see him, he wasn't expecting him to want to go. Initially, Elias was just shocked that it was already Halloween, had he been with August for that long...? Had it already been almost two weeks since he'd last seen him? He tried not to act too bothered about how much it shook him up, realizing he'd completely lost his sense of time lately. But once Elias said that he would love to go, Tyson gladly agreed, promised Elias that if it got uncomfortable or overwhelming they would leave. Elias was amused with Tyson's makeshift costume, his tight red shirt and cheap devil horn head band. He looked ridiculously attractive, and here Elias was in his oversized hoodie he'd been wearing for days and an added jacket, his hair and face were both an absolute mess. He felt ugly, not that he didn't always feel like that lately, but as long as Tyson was distracting him he wasn't really thinking about it.

The party had a lot more people than either of them were expecting, the house was buzzing with conversation and music and loud laughter, and Elias was instantly intimidated. He reached for Tyson's hand and stood close to him, looking down at his shoes as he was guided through the crowd.

"Hey! I didn't think you guys would come!" Someone was saying. Elias looked up for a split second to see it was Leo, who was grinning ear to ear. Elias was envious of his carefree happiness, and he wanted to sob when Tyson let go of his hand to hug Leo. "How are you, Elias?"

He flinched at the sound of his own name, snapping his eyes up to Leo. He hated being addressed like that, like a person, because every time he could hear August pounding it into his brain that he was less than human, that he wasn't important enough to be spoken to, that he was only alive because August allowed it, because August wanted to use him, because he was a punching bag, because he was a sex toy, because-

"I'm fine," he choked out, forcing a tight smile. "Do you have any booze?"

Leo frowned at him in confusion, then looked to Tyson for some sort of explanation. When he only responded with a simple shrug, Leo turned his attention back to Elias. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, it's in the kitchen."

Elias thanked him and turned away from them both, weaving through people until he found himself in the kitchen. Only a few people were in there with him, one of them being Allen, who looked just as uncomfortable as Elias. He was wearing a tee shirt and bow tie, which was the most low effort costume Elias had ever seen. He would have laughed, if he wasn't so hell bent on getting himself drunk so he could handle being here.

"Hey," Allen said, smiling a little, "I didn't know y-you were here."

"Yeah, just got here. Ty's with Leo." As he spoke, he poured himself a shot of tequila, holding his breath so he wouldn't tic and spill it. He threw it back, gagging on the taste, on the memories of August forcing him to take shot after shot of the burning drink because he was more fun when he was drunk, he was told. "What are you supposed to be?" He asked. Allen's eyes were on him as he filled up the shot glass again, then grimaced as he set it down and reached for something to chase it with.

"Oh, I dunno. I've n-never really done this whole Halloween party thing." He shifted his weight, chewing his lip. "What about you?"

Elias didn't answer him, shaking his head. "Can we please go somewhere quiet? This sucks."

Allen laughed, "yeah, it does, huh? Wanna go sm-smoke?" After Elias agreed, Allen took his hand and led him out to the backyard. There were a few other people, but they were dispersed enough that they found a place far away from everyone quickly.

"Tyson hit me today," Elias said suddenly, looking at the ground as he smoked, "I can't even remember why. I just...I just remember I was on the floor and he hit me."

Allen was shocked into silence for a moment, then he took a deep breath and leaned against the wall they were standing at. "Was he mad at you?"

Elias felt on the verge of tears then, couldn't speak over the lump in his throat. "He didn't seem mad, he said he was sorry after. I think he just...I think he just felt like hitting me."

Allen shook his head. "No, Tyson isn't like August. He wouldn't just hit you because he wanted to." When he looked up at Elias, he was surprised to see his cheeks wet with tears and a tight frown on his face. "Hey, it's ok, Elias. It's ok."

"No, it isn't. I'm so fucking exhausted." He dropped his head into his hands and fought the sobs shaking his shoulders. "I can't sleep and I can't eat and I feel like I'm fucking up every little thing-" he froze up when he felt Allen's arms around him, holding him tight. For a second he was stunned into silence, then he really began to cry.

"You're gonna be alright," he was saying, "right now, you're in the hardest part of it, but it's gonna get better." He pulled Elias closer as his weak, broken whimpers shook his small frame. He didn't remember ever being in this much despair, sure, he was confused and scared and hurting, but for the most part he was just relieved that he was safe. How long had Elias been back, a week and a half? When Allen had been back for that long, he was focusing on trying to get his life back together, trying to mend relationships and himself and feel as normal as he could. Elias seemed to be breaking apart over and over again. August must've been so cruel to him.

When Elias slowly stopped crying, he pulled himself out of Allen's grip and took a deep breath. "I um...I'm gonna go get another drink. Thanks for uh, talking to me."

"Yeah, of course. Let me know if you need anything." Allen watched as he stood up and limped back into the house.

[knamjooned]

ECHOES: Team Nocturna - KNJ

pairing: ranger! namjoon x ??? reader

genre: pokemon au, fantasy au, psychic au, smut

tropes: strangers to lovers, love at first sight, amnesia

words: 10K

notes: if you don’t know anything about pokemon, i think you can read this and not be lost. if you are a fan, basically the first movie is all you need to know.

SUMMARY: While hiking, Namjoon finds a mysterious woman lost in the woods. Since she has no memories of her past, he takes it upon himself to help find them.

thanks to @blushingatyou​ & @samros95​ for reading through this, giving me lovely ideas to make it even better <3 I appreciate you taking that time for this!

TEAM: [ info graphic here ]

Virizion (FABLE) - Namjoon was found by Virizion as a young adult. A bond formed when he helped rescue several pokemon from poachers.

Calyrex (CALY) - This pokemon enjoys deep conversations with Namjoon, although it still insists it’s smarter than him by a long shot.

Exeggutor (TORI) - When visiting Alola, Namjoon mistook this pokemon as a simple tree. He tried to climb it, but fell when it shook in surprise.

Tapu Bulu (OTIS) - The pokemon was intrigued when Namjoon put himself between two pokemon fighting. It healed Namjoon after he got hurt.

Flapple (LOBO) - Namjoon tried to evolve Applin into Flapple, but the pokemon refused at the time. It did it by itself.

Celebi (SPRITZ) - Namjoon purposefully sought this pokemon as he explored Ilex Forest. He is still amazed by the fact it wasn’t to stay with him.

Namjoon took a sip of water from the container he kept attached to his backpack and wiped his brow. It was a warm day in the forest, and even with the shade it did little to cool his skin. Rolling his shoulders, Namjoon leaned against a large boulder a few feet from a beautiful, sparkling lake, surrounded by trees on all sides. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the spring air.

“Bi bi!”

The call of one of his partners made Namjoon stand straight and open his eyes, alert. He quickly scanned his area and saw Spritz floating excitedly toward him. Relaxing his shoulders a bit, he smiled with amusement, entertained by the creature's innocent grin.

“What’d you find, my friend? Anything interesting?” He hoisted his pack back onto his body and adjusted the load to continue on his hike. Namjoon’s patrol was almost over, and his stomach started to growl with happiness. “I hope it’s food.”

“Not so much,” came a telepathic voice. Celebi used it only when it had much to speak about. Spritz fluttered in front of Namjoon, guiding the way toward whatever it had found. “Something is wrong with her.”

“That’s not good,” Namjoon replied, moving faster. He stepped with ease over the ground, used to walking among broken branches, rocks, and other scattered things that were on the forest floor. “What kind of pokemon is it?”

“Not a pokemon,” came another voice in his head. He glanced to his left and saw Fable, another pokemon that was on his team. Virizion tilted their head toward the eastern part of the area. “A... human woman.”

“Bi bi,” Spritz agreed, nodding solemnly. The mythical and legendary pokemon lead a curious Namjoon through the trees some more, coming to a tiny clearing with enough room to place a tent at the side of a brook. “Cel...” Spritz hesitated at the edge of clearing, unsure of the woman there.

“Stay at the edge of the clearing, yeah?” Namjoon murmured toward his friends. “I don’t want to scare her. You’re right, something is wrong.”

She was a young woman, dressed in generic jeans and a t-shirt, sitting on the ground cross-legged. In her arms was a small silver backpack, not made for hiking like his, held tightly to her chest. Tears silently fell from her eyes as she gazed forward. Namjoon cleared his throat, slowly approaching from the side.

“Is everything alright?” he asked as gently as he could, hands up to show he meant no harm. His voice still startled her, causing her to grasp the bag even tighter and jerk her head toward him. Her eyes were wide with confusion and fear. He stopped six feet away. “My name is Namjoon. I’m a Pokemon Ranger in this forest. Can I help with anything?”

----

The last thing you remembered was... excitement? Anticipation? For what, you couldn’t say, but something you had been wanting to do for a while. You couldn’t grasp anything else from your memories, only the emotions that had spread through your body at the time. Now, you opened your eyes to find yourself on the grass near a brook, on your back. The tree branches shaded you from the high sun, while a breeze rustled their leaves. 

Sitting up, you furrowed your brows as you looked around, taking in the peaceful scene around you. Inside, though, panic caused your chest to tighten and questions flooded your mind.

Where am I? How did I get here? What am I doing here? Who am I?

The last question repeated rapidly in your mind. Frightened, you grabbed your bag that was at your side and held it to your chest. Tears started to fall as you struggled to understand what was going on. Who am I? You couldn’t answer, and that was what frightened you the most.

You heard the sound of someone approaching, but pretended not to hear, hoping they would just leave. There was too much going on in your mind, adding a stranger to that would only make it more difficult to process. Unfortunately, he spoke and startled you, making you gasp and turn to look at him abruptly. He spoke gently, as if afraid of making you run, which was a good intuition, honestly. Taking a shaky breath, you gathered emotional strength to move past the panic.

“I... I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. You licked your dry lips, realizing you were incredibly thirsty. How long had you been out here? “May I have some water?”

“Of course! May I... come closer?” He waited for you to respond, and you did with a nod. He was being cautious, and that helped you trust his motives. Why were you so suspicious? Again, another answer you couldn’t find. “Fantastic. Here you go.” Namjoon dug a water bottle out of his pack and handed it over. You grabbed and opened it, forcing yourself to sip instead of gulping down the whole thing. It was cool and delicious, the most wonderful thing you had ever tasted at the moment.

“Thank you... Namjoon.” When you said his name, he grinned. “I.. I don’t know my name. I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you.” You grimaced, sipping some more water as you blinked back tears. You wouldn’t let the panic take over, not at the moment. That would be something to do when you were alone.

“I see,” he replied, much calmer than you expected. “My pokemon partners found you. Would you like to meet them?”

“Pokemon partners?” The excitement from right before your memory loss returned, and it made you briefly wonder if this was a clue. Before you could go any deeper into that idea, Virizion and Celebi came toward you from the edges of the clearing. Sucking in a breath, you stared, amazed. You knew these both were legendary and mythical, respectively. How had this ranger convinced such awesome pokemon to work with him?

“This is Fable and Spritz.” Namjoon pointed first to Fable and then Spritz as he introduced them. Each pokemon dipped their head in a light bow and then settled next to Namjoon, who sat in front of you. Fable laid on the ground, head held regally, gazing softly at you. You thought you saw a gentle smile. Spritz fluttered close to Namjoon, but then slowly came toward you. It had an innocent vibe, with it’s big eyes and curious gaze.

“H-hello, Fable and Spritz.” You held out a hand, palm up, and Spritz lightly tapped it with his hand-like appendage. It giggled as it fluttered back to Namjoon and sat on his lap. “How did you become partners with such... pokemon as these?”

“Well,” he chuckled, shrugging with embarrassment. “It’s kind of a long story. I wasn’t expecting to be partnered with Fable, but I guess they saw something good in me.”

“He saved a group of spinarak from poachers.” The smooth, female-like voice in your head made you jump, but when you looked toward Fable, you realized it was from them. They nodded when you locked eyes. “Namjoon is a wise and good soul, very few can be found in humans.”

Namjoon’s face reddened. He tried to look busy as he dug through his backpack, hiding his face. You chuckled as Spritz agreed by flying up a few inches and squeaking happily. When he put his pack down, Namjoon’s ears were still red.

“And Spritz?” You gestured toward Spritz, who had come to a rest next to you. It tapped your leg and looked at you with it’s big eyes. You hesitantly patted your leg in the same spot. Spritz let out a squeak and settled onto your lap.

“I admit to actively searching for them,” Namjoon replied, looking apologetically at Fable. “I wasn’t planning on having them be part of my team, I just wanted to find them. I got lucky that Spritz wanted to come back with me.”

“Fascinating,” you murmured, looking down at the creature in your lap. A thought occurred to you, and you jumped up, causing Spritz to tumble out of your lap. You gasped and crouched, patting it’s head apologetically. “Sorry, Spritz. I just... Do I have pokemon? Have I abandoned them somewhere?” You stood, heart beginning to race. You grabbed your bag and shakily unzipped it. The zipper wouldn’t work, and tears began to well up in your eyes. Namjoon quickly came over and took your hands.

“Breath. In... out... good. One more time.” You followed his directions, and the panic you felt dissipated enough for you to open the pack with ease. No pokeballs or any other items related to such creatures were found. Instead, you found a tube of lip balm, a swiss army knife, a hairbrush, elastic hair ties, a pen, and a USB drive.

“This must be something important.” You held up the USB. Namjoon nodded in agreement. 

“If you’re comfortable with it, we can go back to base camp, I have a laptop we can use to see what’s on it.”

“Is.. is there a bathroom, too?” You asked shyly.

---------------------

Thankfully, Namjoon knew where a camping area was that offered a basic bathroom with a shower to campers. While you were cleaning up, he brought out the rest of his pokemon to quietly warn them of your predicament. 

“How interesting,” Caly the Calyrex murmured, floating above the ground. Namjoon raised an eyebrow at the contemplation on its face. “I can search her mind to gather information, to see if she is a threat, or on the run.”

“Is this your ego speaking?” Fable asked flatly. Caly shot the other pokemon a glare, but it didn’t faze them. Namjoon sighed, readying himself to break up a fight of words between the two once again. Instead, Lobo the flapple and Tori the alolan exeggutor interrupted as they jumped out of their pokeballs.

“Just... be gentle, okay? She seems a bit fragile, like anything could spook her.” Namjoon looked at each of them for a long moment. They all nodded and went their own way, settling into what they had been doing before. Lobo fluttered happily next to Tori, who swayed happily in the breeze. Their heads were just above the forest canopy, and they loved to just look out to see what others couldn’t.

“Otis, you good?” Namjoon asked Tapu Bulu, who floated on the edge of the camp, examining a tree that seemed to be damaged by a human tool. It huffed and jingled it’s bell, and Namjoon took that as a positive response. Spritz giggled next to him and stayed near as you finally appeared at the edge of Namjoon’s camp.

“How are you feeling?” Namjoon asked gently, walking to meet you. He studied your face for any indication of your memories coming back, but the same shy smile and confused eyes looked back at him.

“Much better, mostly,” you replied with a shrug. You wore the same clothes, but the dirt was washed off your body and out of your hair. You peered over his shoulder at the six pokemon entertaining themselves. “Wait, more legendary pokemon? What kind of ranger are you?”

“Ah... well...” Namjoon had no answer to that, but was relieved to see some form of happiness on your face. Your eyes lit up as you gazed at each of his partners. Otis ignored you and Tori just swayed with a grin when you caught their eye, while Lobo circled you with Spritz. Caly and Fable approached you cautiously, trying to keep what Namjoon had said in mind.

“Namjoon is a very special ranger,” Caly said in your head. “Almost as intelligent as myself.” Fable snorted at that, but Caly ignored them. 

“I see you two are best friends,” you commented, eyeing Namjoon. He shrugged helplessly as Caly and Fable glared at one another. “It’s nice to meet all of you. Thank you for letting me into your camp.”

----------------

A few minutes later, you were biting your lip with anxiety as Namjoon attached the USB to his laptop. You shut your eyes tightly, unable to look at anything that would suddenly come up. You sat next to Namjoon at the picnic table with your hand on his knee. Trembling, you squeezed it.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured, covering your hand. You took a deep breath, the warmth of his touch soothing some of your panic. Slowly, you opened your eyes and saw a file folder open on the screen. There was a folder labeled “NOCTURNA”. You feel Namjoon’s eyes on your as you stare forward, brows furrowed.

What is this? What does this have to do with me?

“Shall we open it?” he asked quietly. You swallowed, your throat dry, suddenly frightened by what this may mean, how ominous it sounded. Shaking your head, you stood and walked away from the bench, turning your back to it. You found a water bottle near your bag, so you opened it quickly and took a large gulp. 

“Please, don’t open it,” you replied shakily. “I just... it feels... dark. Please,” you repeat, turning toward him once again. You forced yourself to ignore the laptop screen, the word that seemed to overwhelm your senses.

NOCTURNA.

----------

Over the next week, you focused on working in the camp and forest with Namjoon. You became close to Spritz, who had taken to fluttering around you at all times. At first, you felt guilty for taking the attention of such a pokemon from your rescuer, but he quickly assured you he had no ill feelings toward you. 

You learned you had no talent for camping, but Namjoon made no complaints as you struggled with making a fire or building a tent. He kindly offered to help, but you were determined to figure it out on your own. Otis began to come around you more, apparently finding respect in your determination. It didn’t take long for the legendary Alolan pokemon to venture away from his tasks in the trees to watch you. Another watcher of yours, Namjoon, escaped your attention.

Caly tried a few times to get you to speak about your amnesia, but you refused and bluntly told the pokemon to stop. It seemed to take this negatively, and refused to even look at you since then. You ignored Caly, not entirely bothered by the distance. Namjoon scolded the pokemon, but you didn’t notice that. Tori and Lobo were the comedians of the group, constantly doing things that made everyone laugh.

Tori enjoyed telling everyone what she saw above the canopy, which led to a few rescues of forest pokemon, including a flock of bird pokemon from traps set by poachers. Lobo brought different items it found in the woods, and became attached to a small. stuffed jigglypuff meant for a baby. When Lobo lost the item, Namjoon and you searched for three hours, finally finding it under a stack of wood Otis had cut and brought. You were so exhausted, you took a nap in the shade with Lobo. Namjoon sat beside you as you slept, blocking the sun as it moved in the sky, but was gone before you woke.

As the sun set on the 6th day of your camping journey, Fable trotted to your side and laid in the grass. You were laid on a blanket, face up, looking at the darkening sky. The stars were starting to come out. 

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you, but after what happened with the High King, I didn’t want to push it. But, it has been almost a full week, my new friend.” You quirked your lips in a smile at the sarcastic tone in their voice when Calyrex was mentioned. 

“I know,” you sighed, swallowing down the usual fear that began to crawl into your mind when your predicament was brought up. “Is there anything new you can tell me? If not, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Actually... I might.” At those words in your mind, you sat up quickly, looking over at the green pokemon. They raised their eyebrows and stared at you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

“Really?” you exclaimed. At your shout, Namjoon appeared out of nowhere, brows furrowed with concern.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, sitting next to you.

“Ah, yeah, I was just... Fable said they may have new information about me.” As you said the words, you felt excitement bubble up in your stomach. Namjoon took your hand, squeezed it with a grin, and looked back to Fable. “What is it? What information do you have?”

“And how did you get it?” Namjoon interjected as he laced his finger with yours. You didn’t seem to notice as you held onto his hand tightly.

“I’m not sure how to say it delicately, so I will be blunt.”

“That’s ominous,” Namjoon muttered, frowning. You elbowed him in the side and took a deep breath.

“You are a hybrid. Part human.... and part pokemon.”

----------

The past week had built up a lot of feelings toward you for Namjoon, and that made the bombshell Fable had just said even more powerful. You sat quietly, staring at the pokemon, and Namjoon let it sink in for you. His own head was spinning with questions, which would only mean you had so much more going on. He studied your face, like he had many times over the week, and saw the hints of shock, confusion, fear, and even a bit of excitement. 

“Can you say that again?” you finally replied. 

“Fable, how can you even know this?” Namjoon interrupted. It was so outlandish, couldn’t connect any of the dots the pokemon was throwing at them.

“To put it simply, your aura. Everyone has them, and each is just different enough to be unique. You have a unique human aura, but also a pokemon aura.”

“... that isn’t unique. You know the pokemon DNA I have inside my blood,” you state quietly. At your shuddering breath, Namjoon put his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You went willingly, your head laying close to his chest.

“Can this even be true?” he asked. Namjoon focused on clearing his mind, pulling out the more scientific knowledge he had learned over the years as a ranger. Pokemon biology quickly went through his mind, the basics taught while he was in public school. Pokemon DNA was so different from human DNA, how could it even be possible to do this?

“I only know what I know. And I know you have the DNA of Mewtwo,” Fable answered gently. Namjoon felt you pulling away, and was tempted to hold you longer, but he ignored the urge and let you put distance between the two of you. When you had sat up completely, he saw that your eyes turned blank, staring forward at something that wasn’t there. Namjoon called your name, then waved a hand in front of your face. You made no move.

“Fable, what’s happening?” Namjoon barked, finding it hard to breathe through the pain of panic gripping him. He turned to the pokemon, eyes wide. “What did you do?”

“I.. I do not know! I swear, I only spoke the truth!” The pokemon stood, obviously worried themselves about you. Still, you sat there, in your own world, staring blankly off into the distance. “Maybe when the truth was spoken... her memories came back.”

------------

As soon as the knowledge of your origins was spoken, you felt yourself fall into a trance. The forest around you faded and disappeared, and a laboratory replaced it. There were many people in lab coats working, some at tables, some looking at screens, some studying clipboards full of papers and charts. It seemed you were invisible to them because no one was reacting as you looked around the room. 

“This is where you were born.” The low, gentle male voice entered your mind. It was comforting, as if you knew it well. When a light purple pokemon appeared beside you, you weren’t startled in the least.

“Mewtwo,” you replied breathlessly. “Who am I? What am I?” The desperation of finding answers laid heavy on your chest. “Is this a memory? Or is this present time?” Questions swirled in your mind, but when Mewtwo held up his three-fingered hand, it calmed.

“I understand the chaos in your mind, very well, in fact. Do you know how I came to be?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically. Pausing, you realized it was something you had always known, which was frustrating. Why didn’t you know anything about yourself, but you knew about this pokemon? “Giovanni, the leader of team rocket, contributed his DNA to mix with Mew to create something new and powerful. You.”

“Exactly. And they took my DNA and a human female’s DNA to do the same thing, which made you. Their goal was to make a human with my powers. It seems they have achieved it.”

“Powers?” You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “I have no powers.”

“I must go.” Mewtwo looked behind him. You were sure he was looking at something that wasn’t in this memory... or vision... or whatever this was. “I will contact you soon, I promise.”

Before you could say anything else, the pokemon faded, as well as the laboratory. You came back to the real world quickly, your stomach rolling as Namjoon and his pokemon came back into view. You leaned to the side and vomited all over the grass. As you empty your stomach, you realized the sun was down and the stars were fully out.

---------------

Namjoon held back panic as you suddenly blinked and started to retch. The pokemon stepped back, giving you space, as Namjoon held your hair and rubbed your back. You must have seen something awful to be reacting like this. He believed you had been in a trance, probably having to do with where you came from. It was the only thing that made sense. After whispering soothing words, he offered you water to rinse out of your mouth.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He had no idea what he could do. He kept a hand on your back, resisting the urge to pull you close and cross the line he had drawn for himself over the past week. You smiled shakily and finally sat the half empty water bottle on the blanket.

“We shall leave, give you some space. If you need anything, we will be here.” Fable gave a nod, then prodded Caly with their snout. The kingly pokemon reluctantly followed Virizion toward the center of camp. Namjoon was left sitting next to you, wanting nothing more than to comfort you as much as you would let him.

“I... it’s true. I think. I’m sure,” you added with more conviction. You took a deep breath and leaned into him. Namjoon immediately accepted, closing his eyes as you snuggled against his chest. He ran a hand through your hair as you gripped him tightly around the waist. After a long while. you pulled back. 

“Better?” After you nodded, he started to pull his hands away from your shoulders, but you leaned forward once more. His heart beat faster as you returned to your spot, head nestled into his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I have Mewtwo’s DNA.”

The words caused Namjoon to freeze. He hoped you hadn’t noticed, and he forced himself to relax immediately afterward. Clearing his throat, he tried his best to work through the shock of the famous man made pokemon being mentioned.

“What.. what did you see?” He put his chin on top of your head. 

“Mewtwo contacted me through our minds. Maybe the DNA made it easier? I was in a lab. Well, shown a lab.” You paused, then continued. “He said I had powers.”

“Powers? I... suppose it would be the next logical thought...” How else was he supposed to respond? Nothing like this had ever happened before. What if the mixture of the different DNA’s had caused something awful inside you? Namjoon squeezed you tighter. You returned it, unaware of him closing his eyes in fear. He opened them quickly, though, not wanting to dwell.

“Powers could mean so many things,” you stated with a sigh, pulling back. Namjoon studied your face and saw how tired you look.

“Why don’t we sleep on it? You look exhausted.”

“Can.. can I sleep with you tonight?” Your words left him speechless. He opened his mouth once, then shut it. Namjoon felt his cheeks turn red as he cleared his throat. It took a few moments for you to realize what you had said, and lifted your hands to frantically wave it off. “I didn’t mean it that way! I was wondering if I could sleep next to you! In your tent! In my own bedroll!”

“Obviously!” he replied, his voice a little higher than normal. He pretended nothing was awkward as he stood and held out his hand for you. You took it, letting him pull you up. Still a bit unsteady, you put your arm around his waist, and Namjoon took a bit of your weight as you both made your way to his tent.

Namjoon caught Fable watching, and immediately cut off eye contact, face still red. 

“You’re becoming more and more obvious with your feelings,” Fable said in his mind. Namjoon ignored it and the amused chuckle that followed.

----------------

You couldn’t sleep because of the acute knowledge of Namjoon sleeping beside you. He was inches away, and it felt like sparks were coursing through your body. At first you thought it might be whatever power Mewtwo had mentioned, but you would be a fool to deny the attraction between Namjoon and yourself. Still, you were too focused on what had just happened. Did he see you differently, now? Your relationship had grown into something nice and comfortable, and you didn’t want to ruin that. 

As you nibbled your lip with worry, you heard Namjoon turn in his sleep to wrap his body around yours, throwing his arm across your waist. He pulled you into his chest, and your back hit a solid wall of muscle. Your breath caught in your throat as lust slammed into you. Had you ever felt lust before? You tried to recall a moment of your past that included sex, but nothing came to the surface.

“Oh my god, I’m a virgin,” you muttered to yourself. You snorted and brought a hand to your mouth to keep your laughter in. It was an absurd thought, honestly, and it calmed your charged nerves. You sighed and wiggled back against him. His warmth surrounded you and built a wall of comfort you couldn’t remember feeling before you met him.

Apparently you had finally gone to sleep, because your eyes fluttered open as the sun was coming up, the night bugs singing their last notes. The first thing you noticed was the warmth still around you. The second thing was the large, bare hand against your skin just under your shirt. 

“Joon?” you whispered, body still. You waited a moment, then said his name again. The only response was a soft snore. With a shaky breath, you began to gently pull his arm off you. Once you knew he was still asleep, you slipped out of the tent and into the clearing lit by the sunrise.

“May I speak with you?” You were startled by Caly, the rabbit-like pokemon. You placed a hand over your chest, taking a breath to calm your jumping heart. “I... owe you an apology. I was very rude.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You moved to lean against a tree trunk, watching the orange sky. Caly floated next to you. After some silence, he continued to speak to you through telepathy.

“It seems you and I have more in common than we both thought,” Caly stated. “Have your powers developed, yet?”

“Does speaking to Mewtwo in my mind count as a power?”

“I think it does. Would you like me to help you explore what kind of powers you may have inherited?”

--------------

Reaching out, Namjoon ran his hand over the sleeping bag next to him. His eyes were still closed, but it was immediately easy to tell you were not there anymore. He knew he hadn’t been dreaming of your body close to his, of his hand running along your skin. Had it made you run away? Frustrated with himself and his inability to just admit certain things, Namjoon let out a heavy sigh and sat up. 

When he emerged from the tent, he was surprised to see you and Caly staring at one another. The pokemon was floating at eye-level with you, with a light purple and pink aura around you both. Your eyebrows were furrowed, body in a position that seemed sturdy. Confused, he walked closer, but was stopped by Lobo the flapple fluttering to his shoulder. 

“Is.. she okay?” Namjoon wondered out loud, watching as a bead of sweat run from your hairline and down your cheek. Flapple chirped his own confusion, tilting its head.

“She wanted to learn.” Fable gracefully came to his side. “I think this aura is all her doing. I’m surprised Caly has decided to let her take over their body.”

“What?” Namjoon wasn’t sure he heard right. He pulled his eyes away from the scene and toward the green pokemon. “She’s... she’s holding Caly up on her own....”

“It’s a simple skill, but it gets more difficult to hold it for long periods of time. They have been like this for a good twenty minutes.”

Suddenly, you gasped and slid to the ground, eyes closed, just as the aura disappeared immediately. Calyrex caught themselves before they hit the ground, and floated over your still body. Namjoon called your name, tripping over himself to get to you. He dropped to sit on the ground and pulled you into his lap. You groaned and let yourself be pressed sideways against him. 

He held you close as you trembled, your skin glowing with sweat. Calyrex looked cool and collected, like always, as they watched Namjoon run his hands over your body. Relieved nothing was physically wrong, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. His chest ached with worry as he leaned forward, his lips near your ear.

“Can you hear me?” He called your name once more, and your eyelids fluttered open. 

------

The power had been intense, although Calyrex has assured you it was only a simple skill any pokemon that was psychic mastered as a young. Floating yourself was one thing, but focusing on manipulating others energies to keep them off the ground? It didn’t take long for you to feel yourself straining, sweat from the mental effort covering your skin. As you concentrated, you saw the swirling purple and pink aura surrounding yourself and Caly, the pressure against your skin oddly comforting, yet frightening. 

The next thing you knew, you were in Namjoon’s lap, so weak you could barely keep your eyes open. You stared into his brown ones, wide with concern. His large, gentle hands roamed your body, checking joints and bones and anything else that could have gotten hurt. You closed your eyes once again, comforted by his presence, but the small shake he gave you made you fling them open once more.

“Stay awake, just for a moment. Speak to me. Does anything hurt?” His arms tightened, bringing you to lean against his chest. You felt and heard his heartbeat slamming through his chest. 

“I’m ... okay,” you whispered. “Just tired. Let me rest. Caly said this was normal.” Your eyes closed once more as you were placed on the ground. After a moment, Namjoon lifted you, bridal style, and carried you to a large blanket Lobo and Tori had spread out as a makeshift bed. The rising sun didn’t penetrate your eyelids as you rested, hand on Namjoon’s knee. He sat beside you as you slept.

--------

Spritz was the one to pull a reluctant Namjoon away from your side when they chirped and pulled him toward the trees. Fable realized there were some trainers and their pokemon trapped on a cliff with no way down. As this part of Namjoon’s job, he couldn’t just ignore it. He put Otis in charge of staying with you, which the apathetic pokemon did so with a snort. 

After the three kids and pokemon were helped down the cliff, a couple hours had passed. Namjoon had been distracted a few times with you, almost slipping himself as he scaled the rocks. Caly scolded him even as Namjoon gulped down water on the way back to the camp.

“You could have killed yourself, Namjoon. I don’t understand what happened. You’re usually so careful! Humans are so confusing...”

“Bi..bibi!” Spritz giggled as it fluttered around Fable and then near Namjoon. It seemed highly amused with the situation, and patted his head sympathetically. Namjoon wasn’t sure what the mythical pokemon found so hilarious - Calyrex was right, he could have really gotten hurt.

“It’s because he’s in love.” Fable said, so casually Namjoon almost missed the teasing lilt in the telepathic voice. He choked on water he had just swallowed, having to stop his steps and lean forward, coughing violently. 

“Bi! Cel-Cel...!” Spritz frowned as they patted his back again.

“I’m okay, just swallowed wrong,” Namjoon gasped, wiping his mouth. Finally, he got his breathing under control enough to begin walking once more. Tori leaned her head down and grinned her usual goofy grin, grunting her concern. Namjoon reached up, patted the huge body of the tree-like pokemon, and continued walking. Lobo rested on Fable’s back.

“Love, romance, a purely human invention,” Caly scoffed. The party crossed into the small clearing where the camp was, and Namjoon felt his breath catch as he stopped in his tracks. Otis was creating music with his body, his shield opened to expose the center part of himself. You were happily hopping around, laughing and spinning as you danced in a circle.

“Well, that’s something I never thought I’d see,” Fable muttered in as much awe as everyone else in the group. “All I’ve known Otis to be is grumpy.”

As the group entered the camp and interrupted your dancing, Namjoon’s head was filled with what Fable has said. Love. Was he in love with you? He had been in relationships before, but it wasn’t like he was an expert in that emotion. Still, it was easy to see as soon as it was noticed. 

The nervousness when he spoke to you or thought about you, the flush he always felt when you were near, the awkward situations he found himself in when only you were there or in his mind. It was clearly obvious - he had feelings for you and it was getting strong. 

You smiled at him as the pokemon worked together to build a fire to cook lunch, coming to sit on a log that had been a bench for the last week. You scooted close to his side, the sunshine raining down on everything. He resisted the urge to grab your hand.

“Fable told me about the kids on the cliff. You’re amazing, you know that?” Namjoon chuckled, bashful with the compliments, especially as it came from you. You knocked his shoulder with yours. “I’m serious! It’s a dangerous thing to do, be a ranger, but you put your heart and soul into it. You care about people and pokemon and the earth we live on.”

“Someone has to,” he replied. “I think the fire’s ready, I’m going to make us some lunch.” As he focused on cooking, his thoughts were sprinkled with you, as they always were lately. A small smile was stuck on his face, and Namjoon didn’t even notice. Unfortunately, the facts of your origin snuck in with the other thoughts. 

You were a pokemon. Could a human feel this way for a pokemon? But were you really? Sure you had the DNA of Mewtwo, which was made from Mew and a human, but... you looked human. Nothing about you was out of ordinary, at least from an objective perspective. To him, though, you were extraordinary, a beautiful soul and a pretty face all rolled into one.

------------

That evening, after a week of avoidance, you stared at the screen of Namjoon’s laptop. The folder named NOCTURNA stared back at you, taunting you with answers and more questions. The sun was almost below the horizon, and everything was quiet, settling down to sleep. You felt the comforting presence of Namjoon dozing in his sleeping bag next to the bench, where he had insisted on staying while you did this.

You glanced toward him, taking in his softened features and gentle breathing. On his back, one hand was under his head while the other was on his stomach atop the cover. The realization of your feelings came to you rather quickly, as your stomach jumped and rolled with nerves. You had never been in love, but it seemed obvious this was it. How did you know without... knowing?  Maybe a part of you that you didn’t remember had experienced it before. 

After taking a deep breath, you opened the file. There was one PDF file labeled JOURNALS, and one text document labeled “READ FIRST”. Whoever had given this USB to you had left a note, it seemed. You lifted your hand from the touchpad and placed them on your lap. The arrow hovered over the text document, waiting for you to give it instructions with the double tap of your fingers. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a storm, a happy feeling changing into one of anxiety and fear. This was it, this was where some answers would be.

Swallowing hard, you lifted your trembling hand and double tapped the touchpad. The text document took a few seconds to open.

Let me begin by apologizing for my actions that have led to your mistreatment. I understand that these are merely words that you are reading, so I don’t expect you to completely forgive me. I will not apologize for the reason, though, as that pertains to more than just myself. The reasons for your creation were for good, I promise you that.

My life had turned toward good, giving back to those I had wronged and focusing on making the world a better place. During that time, my partner gave birth to a child, a little girl, who had a tremendous duty ahead of her. Unfortunately, my partner had been a part of a group called Nocturna.

Unknowingly, they had used her as an experiment. I did not know they had added the genetics of Mewtwo to my wife, but once you were born, the group made sure I knew. They took you.

It has taken me years to find you, but here you are, a grown woman that these wretched people had poked and prodded so thoroughly there wasn’t anything alive inside you. When I finally got you out, I made sure to take this USB, as well as wipe your memory with their technology.

I am too old to continue my deeds, good or bad, so now it’s up to you. This USB is proof to my successor in Viridian City that you are my daughter. Go there, and everything that was mine will be yours.

Be safe, be kind, and don’t make my mistakes.

Giovanni Sakaki

By the end of the letter, tears were flowing down your cheeks. Unable to hold back, you put your face in your hands and sobbed. Your memories may be gone, but the pain, confusion, and fear that had been most of your life was thrown back into you. It was hard to breathe, you cried so hard. You didn’t even flinch when someone sat beside you and held you close, his deep, calming voice telling you it was going to be okay.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, him holding you, but the stars were high in the sky when you finally pulled away. Suddenly, you were self-conscious about the state you were in - puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Namjoon took your face in his hands, though, and leaned close. His lips touched your forehead, staying for a moment, then pulled back.

“The letter... there’s a lot of things in it. Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head immediately. “What about the journals?” You repeated the action, placing your head against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms seemed to shelter you from all the frightening emotions and unanswered questions swirling in your mind. “Let’s get some rest, then.”

----------

He wasn’t sure what else to do, so he held you close as you two settled into one sleeping bag inside the tent. You had been silent this whole time, but he couldn’t blame you. He had read through the letter as you sobbed earlier. Namjoon was shocked and confused, but he could only imagine how much more emotions you were feeling. Had your memories returned? Was the amnesia permanent? It was clear now was not the time to ask these questions, especially when you were finally calm.

“Namjoon?” you asked, your hands between your bodies, your face pressed against his chest. He kissed your hair, just under his chin. “Namjoon, I...” You trailed off.

“What is it?” He pulled away just enough to see you move your eyes from his chest to his face. Something was in there that he hadn’t expected to see. Lust. He swallowed as his body started to react, starting to feel every inch of you pressing against his body, no matter the sweatpants and tshirt he was wearing.

“It hurts. Not physically, but.... emotionally? I don’t feel good. I want to feel good.” You stopped, biting your lip as your eyes closed for a moment. You opened them and continued. “Can I feel good with you?”

“You mean...? You’re emotionally hurting right now, maybe this isn’t the best way to deal with it right now...” Namjoon trailed off as you placed a hand on his cheek, and scooted up enough to press your lips against his. He closed his eyes, the soft touch electrifying everything. He kissed you back, barely, then pulled back. Your noses stayed close enough to touch.

“Before the letter, it was on my mind,” you admitted, a bashful smile on your lips as you avoided his eyes. “Last night, when we were lying together. I didn’t want to interrupt your sleep, though, so I left and practiced with Caly.”

“Oh,” he replied, swallowing hard. Namjoon placed a soft kiss on your lips in response, hesitating for only a moment before opening his mouth to kiss you deeper. You showed no hesitation as you opened your mouth and teased his lips with your tongue.

Limbs wrapped around one another, and he found himself rolling to be on top, your thighs opening desperately as he pressed himself against you. Lips and tongue tangled as you both rocked your clothed hips desperately. The sleeping bag gave little room to pull away, and everything seemed heat even more as you nibbled on his lips.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asked, whispering your name as your hands ran down his chest. He hovered over you, body trembling as your roaming hands touched the skin at the edge of his shirt. 

“Definitely sure. I want to feel you, all of you.” You smirked at him, a playful twinkle in your eye. He returned it with a smile, then caught your lips again with his. He rocked his hips and you let out a delicious groan. “I don’t want to wait. Pull down your pants.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Namjoon rasped. It was difficult to maneuver your bodies to disrobe, but you both managed to discard the items with giggles and stolen kisses. Finally, you were skin to skin, with him large and aching between your thighs.

He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss your skin, so he trailed his lips over your neck and to your breasts, swirling his tongue around the nipples as you arched your back and whimpered. Your hand reached between your bodies, wrapping around his cock. Namjoon gasped and brought his lips back to yours, kissing you hard as he shuddered. 

“Fuck, that feels too good,” he groaned. You removed your hand and wrapped your legs around his hips. This caused the head to press against your slick heat. Namjoon’s head spun as he flexed, coating himself in you as the head of his cock hit your clit. 

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered into his ear. He buried his face into your neck, biting, kissing, and licking as you rutted against one another. He kept moving, ignoring the way he was getting closer and closer to his climax. You writhed beneath him. Namjoon reached down and circled your clit with his fingers.

You gasped and bucked, surprising both of you as you cried out and climaxed at his hand. His cock pulsed against your opening, covering your mound with his release. It was so unexpected, his hand was almost splashed.

Breathing hard, he placed hands on either side of your head, looking down at your face, clearly showing content and pleasure. His arms trembled, but he focused on catching his breath and staring into your eyes. His own eyes widened as a purple and pink aura began to glow around the two of you.

-----------

You had not felt such bliss, such pleasure, and you didn’t want to let it end. You hadn’t paid attention to Namjoon, and when you realized that fact as you stared into his eyes, guilt ascended. He hovered over you, breathing heavily, watching you with wide eyes filled with surprise, lust, and care. You felt his sticky cum between your bodies. He had climaxed as you had, but you hadn’t done anything to help him along. 

“I’m sorry, Joonie, I wasn’t paying attention to what you needed,” you purred, feeling confident even without practice. His mouth tried to form words as you pulled the hand that was still covered in his release from beside your head and to your mouth. He leaned heavily on his other forearm as you licked his fingers, sighing with pleasure at the taste of him on your tongue. “Can we do that again?”

“I may need a few minutes,” he answered roughly, rolling to his side. “Um... you’re glowing?” he pointed out, confused. It took a moment, but you then noticed the pink and purple power aura swirling around you and partially around him. You also felt more powerful than you had ever felt before. You didn’t know if it was the climax, or the fact you had finally given into your feelings.

“I see. I think I can use this,” you stated with a grin. Namjoon raised his eyebrows as you pushed against his chest. “Lay on your back, Joonie.” He did as you asked, and you settled yourself between his thighs, hands on his skin. He sucked in a breath as you studied his soft cock.

“Use your powers?” he asked breathlessly, putting his hands behind his head. 

“Maybe,” you replied, winking.

You leaned forward and placed a kiss on the tip of his cock, causing it to start growing. A low growl came from Namjoon’s throat. You appreciated him letting you experiment. You took a breath in and blew lightly against him. Smoky purple and pink energy swirled around his member, and you heard him gasp loudly as it began to grow even more. He whimpered, and you felt a hand fall into your hair, His hips flex upward, his cock twitching.

You did it once again, this time circling your fingers around him. Your fingertips didn’t touch anymore, and you knew he was growing even larger. Namjoon cursed and whispered your name, his body starting to tremble. The purple and pink energy swelled to encompass the tent, heightening the arousal of Namjoon and yourself.

“You're so big, I don’t know how you’ll fit inside me. I suppose that’s the fun of it,” you added. You leaned forward and placed your lips on his cock, slowly sliding down. Namjoon placed both hands into your hair, tightening his hold as you took him halfway into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his member as much as possible, a bit of saliva running down onto your hand gripping him.

You took your time to taste him, moving your head and hand together to pull moans and gasps from Namjoon.

“Baby, please, I’m so close, Where do you want me?” Namjoon’s voice was choppy, the pleasure clear as he shook with pleasure. You lowered even more on his cock, just an inch or two from the bottom, and he cried out, gently pulling your hair. You knew he was climaxing, so you used your psychic aura to stop it just before he let himself go. “Fuck, what was that?” he whimpered.

You pulled off his member slowly, letting the saliva lubricate your hand as you pumped him. You felt powerful and sexy as you saw his face, eyes half-lidded and mouth open. He was covered in sweat, his eyes staring lovingly at you. 

“I used my power. Did you like it?” Suddenly, you weren’t so sure that had been the right choice. Your own body pulsed with desire, nipples hard and your entrance weeping. You stopped moving your hand.

“Oh, yeah, that was... amazing,” he answered, trying to catch his breath. His cock twitched in your hand, bringing back your sexual confidence. You began to stimulate him again, using your hand on his cock and your energy to stroke against his skin, especially the places he seemed to enjoy the touch.

“Do you want me to continue? I want to but...” you trailed off and let some spit dribble onto his throbbing cock. He grunted, hips lifting, as he nodded quickly.

“God, yes, don’t stop.” He placed his hands under his head once more. You watched as he shut his eyes tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. “Fuck, I want to be inside you... can I?”

“Yes,” you immediately answered, letting him go. He watched as if you were the most beautiful and precious thing as you climbed on top, lining his member up with your slick opening. You rubbed yourself over his cock, your mound still sticky with his release before. His eyes zeroed in between your thighs. “Help me,” you requested with a whimper, unsure how to get him to fit inside you.

“Okay, okay,” he rasped, putting his hands on your hips. He flexed his hips as you shifted, and suddenly he was inside. You both gasped at the same time, the aura around the tent brightening. Trembling, you felt yourself being stretched to the point of pleasurable pain. He cursed, gripping your hips tightly. “Baby, you okay? Shit, you're tighter than I thought...” His dirty words, which he never said before, caused a rush of wetness to slide around him inside of you. It helped him move deeper inside you.

“It hurts, but in a good way,” you groaned, shifting slightly. “I didn’t realize it would feel so good.” You placed your hands on his chest, lowering yourself the rest of the way. After he was buried completely inside, you caught the look on his face.

“You’ve never done this.” It was a statement filled with emotion. The energy pulsed around you in time with his cock flexing against your inner walls. You controlled some energy around him, stroking his body again the way he enjoyed moments ago. He grunted as he pulled you off of him half way. You went to protest, but he lifted his hips and slammed you back downward.

“Joon!” you cried, clenching around him. He did it once more, like he was testing your reaction. His eyes glittered with arousal now, remembering what made you cry out, what made you shudder in pleasure. “No, I haven’t,” you replied as you gasped for air. “I’m sure of that.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, starting to repeat his thrusting slowly, over and over again. With each movement, you felt the amazing climax from before coming closer and closer to you. Eyes closed, you let yourself give him control, moving your body the way he wanted. “Thank you for trusting me, thank you for this.” His words confused you, but the tenderness made tears come to your eyes.

“Joon,” you murmured, eyes opening. You bent over, capturing his lips, as you matched his thrusts. The kisses turned sloppy, only wanting to taste more and more of each other. “Do that again,” you demanded at a particularly pleasurable thrust. Namjoon did as you asked, and you cried out. “I’m almost there!”

“Me too, baby. Can you ride me? Fuck,” he added when you took his hands and slammed them on either side of his head. 

You took control, slamming down onto his cock at a rapid pace. You focused on him, taking the energy once again and stroking his skin, this time moving down to stimulate his balls. His eyes opened wide, curses leaving his mouth. After a few moments, you slammed down and grinded your clit against his pelvis, clenching his cock, as you orgasmed harder than before. You felt him release inside you, the warmth and fullness of him making you shudder even harder. Purple and pink clouds of energy brightened even more, then shuddered along with you into uncountable falling stars.

You fell onto his chest and gasped for air, eyes closed tightly, as you kept yourself in the mental high of orgasm as long as possible. You felt strong arms wrap around you, sticky with sweat, and breathed in the heady smells of sex. The psychic energy that had floated in the tent slowly dissipated into nothing, and all that was left was the sound of Namjoon and you breathing deeply.

-------

After a nervous start the morning after, Namjoon and you stumbled through the beginnings of a new relationship as the days passed. Another week went by before you made a decision, and Namjoon supported you completely. It didn’t take long for you to establish yourself with the Pokemon Ranger program as a supportive ranger, with your psychic abilities suited for healing and soothing wounded pokemon and people. Still, you knew you would eventually make your way to Viridian City, where your father’s legacy awaited your return.

In time, you had a team of your own that helped in your newly acquired duties as Namjoon’s support and medic. Even though it wasn’t his official title, Namjoon was the same for you. Nightmares would come and go, and he would stay there, holding you close as you cried. Every loving kiss, every gentle touch, allowed your emotional wounds to heal. You even conversed with Mewtwo a handful of times over the year, learning a few offensive psychic techniques that you hoped to never have to use. The pokemon insisted you would never meet in person, but it was always in the back of your mind. You did have his DNA inside of you.

It was Namjoon’s idea to set up a traveling clinic, and you expanded that into specializing in abandoned psychic pokemon. The type was as misunderstood as ever, and the aftermaths of abusive, greedy groups were always going to be there. Just as Namjoon and his pokemon team allowed you to grow and heal, you would be there for these pokemon. Sleeping under the stars was one of your favorite things to do when you and Namjoon spent time together outside of work, which would include deep conversations and heated touches. Eventually, your memories returned, and a year later, all was clear. That was when you decided it was time to face your past, your family legacy, and create something new and wonderful out of something as dark as Nocturna

During one of those times, just over a year since you had met him, Namjoon held you close as you sat between his thighs, back pressed against his chest. You felt his relaxed breathing near your ear, and found your own breath matching his. With a blanket wrapped around both of you, everything was comfortable and warm.

“I love you,” Namjoon said quietly, lips touching the top of your ear in a light kiss. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes, the sincere and beautiful words flowing through your skin and into your soul. Everytime he said it, it was almost unbelievable, but he would always prove himself.

“I love you, too,” you replied, eyes opening. You leaned to the side, turned your head, and kissed the corner of his lips. It was an awkward position, and you both giggled and returned to your previous position. “I contacted the Viridian City gym leader today.”

“What?” Namjoon froze, shocked at the news. He squeezed you tighter. The note of concern in his voice was sweet, but you patted the arm that was around your waist.

“I’m not changing my path in life, just adding another part. I’m going to meet him and maybe make a business deal. We need donations to keep the clinic going and up to date, might as well start using what was left to me, right?”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I… yeah, that might help, I’m nervous to meet the famous rock trainer and gym leader, Jeon Jungkook.”

EVERLAST CLINIC TEAM

[banashee]

It's midnight where I am, which means it's technically the 21st already 😁 Hi Folks, welcome to my fourth fic for the Archival Pride 2021 project! Look at their tumblr for more info :)

@archivalpride

   Archival Pride 2021, Week four (June 21-28) Prompts: comfort, childhood, research, missing scene, statement

   The key words I've used here are comfort, research (and arguably missing scene depending how you look at it)

So, this wasn't supposed to get nearly as long as it ended up being. But I enjoyed wirting this a ridiculous amount, and I hope you can find a bit of joy, comfort or anything else you're seeking as well.

-

Please mind the tags and content warnings for this one! It’s quite a bit heavier than my other entries for the Archival Pride 2021.

Content warnings: - Trauma, Grief - PTSD / Panic attacks - violent canon death of a sibling - coping - Nightmares - Canon-typical violence - Canon-typical Clowns / The Stranger - Death of a loved one - Canon-typical violence and thoughts of violence - Past underage kissing between consenting teenagers (nothing graphic and very PG) - breif internalized Bi-Phobia in the past - brief mention of past Ace-Phobia - strong language - TMA season 3 spoilers, even though this story is set pre-canon.

-

 Whispers in the Dark

 The first time Tim meets Jonathan Sims is when he sets down a small cardboard box and a stack of files onto a desk. More precisely, his own new place at the desk he just got assigned.

 Tim just started out with his new job and he smiles, even though he is barely holding himself together at this point. He hopes no one will ask too many questions - it’s not like he plans on telling anyone what made him seek out the institute in the first place. It’s way too personal, and way too much to handle.

 So he’d lied in the job interview, spun some story about wanting a new challenge. Mr. Bouchard didn’t question it, and Tim would like to think that is because his CV and education are rather high quality, which he isn’t shy about. Not at all - he is proud of his achievements, and rightfully so. But Tim can’t shake the feeling that his new employer had looked at him oddly, like he knows something that no one else does. It had been deeply unsettling, and if Tim thinks too much about it, it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up straight.

 Despite his gut feeling telling him something else, Tim decides to chalk it up to nerves and his… Current situation, so to say. He is more jumpy, more paranoid than he used to be, which isn’t surprising. He has seen things, lived through things that he wouldn’t know how to explain if anyone asked. But overthinking it won’t get him anywhere.

 So, he puts on a bit of the show, something that looks like his usual happy-go-lucky personality. Loud, brash, flirty and wicked smart, just like he always has been. It feels incredibly fake to him, but then again, no one here knows him. No one has ever met him before… Before. They don’t know.      They don’t know    . None of them ever sees him when the mask falls, home alone, in a house that feels too big and too empty with Dany gone and - no.

     “Don’t go there, Stoker, just don’t. Get through the day, see what you can find out and go home. Get back tomorrow, rinse and repeat. You can do this.”     he tells himself and plasters on a smile that almost hurts.

 As he sets down the box and his files, he greets his new coworker and desk-neighbor.

 “Hi, I’m Tim, nice to meet you!” (      “be happy, sound happy, god dammit”     he thinks, then reminds himself that this guy won’t know the difference.)

 The man on the desk opposite of him looks up from his computer which he’d previously looked at with intense concentration. It seems to take him a moment to catch up, then he nods and there is the hint of a very small smile on his face.

 “Oh, erm, hi. Welcome.” he says, like someone who isn’t used to interacting with too many people. And maybe he isn’t - Tim wouldn’t know. He almost moves on and accepts that he won’t get a name from his new desk neighbor, but then he hears him say,

 “Jonathan. Jon is fine, too.”

 And then, as if he never said anything, he focuses back onto the screen in front of him and starts typing furiously.

 “Thanks!” Tim says, probably just a tad too loud and too enthusiastically, but he doesn’t get a response this time. Okay, awkward. He isn’t sure if Jon is ignoring him or if he just doesn’t realize that he is being talked to - judging from the very brief, first impression of him that Tim got, both options might be entirely possible.

 As the days go by, they don’t interact a lot besides basic politeness and the occasional question or comment about something work related.

 The first time Tim ever really talks to Jon, is when he witnesses the man climb a bookshelf in the library like a fucking tree. No kidding. Tim blinks, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a real, genuine laugh bubble up in his chest. What the hell? He steps closer, next to the large, antique bookshelf that his coworker is currently clinging to, pulling books from a shelf that is over his head still.

 “Jon, hi.” Tim says, watching the scene in front of him unfold. This is not something he expected, least of all from the coworker who never seems to say or do anything mildly interesting. So much for the first impression - the second impression is something entirely different, and it is this very moment that Tim decides that he likes the guy.

 The sound of Tim’s voice addressing him directly makes Jon turn his head.

 “Hi. Can I help you?” he asks, brusk and matter of fact, as if there wasn’t anything odd about this situation.

 “...I was going to ask you the same?” Tim offers, mildly amused as he finds himself kind of impressed when Jon manages to shrug with his hands full like that. While clinging to the shelf, because what even?

 “No. Why? I’ve already got what I need.” Jon jumps down from the wooden board he’d been standing on, and it is only now that Tim realizes they’d been on eye level before. Now… Not so much. They never stood next to each other up until this moment, he realizes.

 He’s only been here for about a week, but whenever Tim arrives at the office, Jon is already there, at his desk and working. He never gets up for lunch, only ever seems to leave the room to pick up or drop off books from the library, and by the time everyone else has left, Jon remains seated at his desk. If he wasn’t changing out his clothes, Tim would have been convinced that Jonatahn Sims simply plugs himself into a wall socket to recharge for the next day. Or maybe sleeps under his desk or something.

 “Just… You know what, nevermind.” Tim has come to the very correct conclusion that he better just accept this as it is. It seems easier. Much, much easier than arguing with someone over nothing, even though Tim feels like punching a wall or two some days. But that is not his coworkers fault, and he doesn’t want to mess up the chance to get to know him because he is cute.

 Tim doesn’t even question this train of thought anymore.

 At some point in between meeting the man for the very first time and… well, this, he must have filed away the odd combination of grandfather cardigans, chipped dark nailpolish and neatly tied up hair, combined with that deep warm voice and decided that yes, this person is attractive.

 To be fair, it doesn’t take Tim long to fall for people - it never has. He just didn’t expect to spend any time really      looking     at someone, now that his life has gone sideways in so many horrible ways.

 Turns out he’d been wrong.

 Finding something attractive about a person, no matter their gender or any physical attributes, is the easiest thing in the world to Tim. Ever since he can remember, he has enjoyed looking at people. Tim likes soft curves just as well as sharp angles, and has spent many many hours of his life getting lost in people's eyes. Sometimes, he’d caught himself staring when talking to a friend, losing himself in the depth of warm brown eyes with specks of gold, watery blue, light grey or green with specs of hazel and anything in between.

 Tim vividly remembers a game of spin the bottle when he was a teenager and sat on the floor with a group of friends and classmates. Of course, there had been many dares to kiss someone, and he had happily taken them whenever possible.

 At the time, Tim wasn’t sure about himself at all, because he’d only known that he finds people attractive, but all everyone around him had talked about was if you were gay or straight, if the question was even asked. Mostly, they just assumed whatever seemed convenient at the time.

 No one tells Tim about the meaning of the word “Bisexual”, or even about the word itself until he is in college. But he knows how he feels, even though he is lacking the word for it for many years

 Once he finds out, Danny is the first person he tells about it. Tim calls him that same night, sitting in a quiet corner of the dorm as he excitedly tells his little brother that he found a word to relate to himself and his feelings for other people.

 “There are other people who feel that way, Danny. There is nothing wrong with me and there is a word for it!” he tells him in a hushed but excited voice, fumbling on a loose thread in a hole of his jeans. Those trousers have long been frayed into shreds but Tim refuses to part with them.

 His voice is shaking with excitement, and he may or may not be holding back happy tears. This is a big moment for him, and because Danny is literally the best - not just because he answered his phone at fuck-o-clock in the morning when his brother called - he reacts with nothing but support.

 “I might have a few questions, but I love you. No matter what. I’m happy for you.” he tells him, and in that moment, Tim couldn’t be happier or prouder of his younger brother.

 The game of spin the bottle a few years earlier was the one of the first things that taught Tim that he finds many many things to be interested in and attracted to. It taught him that he is attracted to the many different ways people feel, and it hasn’t changed ever since.

 Over the years, Tim finds himself falling in love quick and hard with a number of people, and none of them are ever the same. Each and every person is unique, in their looks and size and voice and feelings - and every single one is loveable just as they are.

     “You        do         have a thing for certain types of voices though.”    Tim thinks, and maybe that is the culprit here, now that he is standing in the library of the Magnus Institute and faced with Jonathan Sims, who looks up at him with one raised eyebrow. Oh shit, has he been staring the entire time?

 Before Tim can think too much about it, or god forbid, overthink it, he hears his mouth blurt out without his brains permission,

 “So do you want to come to lunch later? There is a café not far from here that I’ve never been to.”

 Jon stares back for a moment, like this isn’t something he expected. Truth be told, he didn’t. But just when Tim starts thinking that he’ll decline, Jon nods slowly.

 “Yes, I suppose. Just… Let me know before you’re going. I tend to, well, I tend to get lost a bit when I’m working and chances are I won’t notice how much time has passed.” he explains, and this is probably the first time he said anything personal besides his name.

 “Sure, no problem. I’ll just put a giant sticky note on your monitor.” Tim offers him with a grin and wink, and as he turns around, he could swear that he catches a real smile on Jon’s face.

 Tim actually does put a note on Jon’s screen though. As he was warned, all attempts to verbally get his attention have failed, so Tim scribbles a quick note for Jon.

 The sticky piece of paper is bright pink and obnoxious, and all that Tim has written on it is “Lunch time!” in big bold letters, accompanied by a smiley face. He manages to walk up behind Jon, stick it right in the middle of his computer monitor and get back around to his own desk to gather his jacket and wallet before Jon squints at it through slim, rectangular glasses and blinks a few times before he remembers the conversation from earlier. Then, there is a small hint of a smile on his face, very similar to the one Tim caught in the library earlier.

 He gathers his things and leaves the office with Tim, and the two of them walk next to each other comfortably as they make their way to the café.

 Surprisingly, the lunch break together isn’t nearly as awkward as it could be, or should have been, really. Jon doesn’t talk much at first, and Tim has a feeling he himself is talking way too much without actually saying anything, just so his brain doesn’t drift off into the wrong direction. But then, it’s like the air has left his lungs and there is a minute or two of slightly awkward silence.

 Then, Jon clears his throat and asks,

 “So, did you know that snails can sleep for three years at a time?”

 When Tim, surprised by the question, shakes his head, Jon starts talking about the topic in great detail as he fiddles with the edge of his napkin the whole time. Somehow, this of all things breaks the ice, and Tim finds himself to be able to breathe a little bit easier.

 Even more so, he is enjoying this. He isn’t sure what he expected when he asked Jon to join him for lunch. Maybe it was just the urge for human interaction and to not be alone, which he supposes is fair enough. But he certainly didn’t expect random information about nature phenomenons. All Tim knows is that he feels better after their first break together, and after that, spending the break together becomes A Thing.

 What he learns pretty fast is this: Jon is an info dumper when he feels comfortable enough to do so. As it turns out, Jon isn’t very picky with his topics, either. They range from science phenomena to weird, interesting nature facts and anything else that catches his interest.

 Tim also learns that, if he is in the right company and being asked the right questions, he can hold monologues that could last for hours. He figures that one out when Jon drops a fun fact about 19th century architecture, and without thinking, picks up the loose end of the sentence and continues,

 “Oh, yes, did you know that…” and thus, without even realizing it, Tim spends the entire lunch break talking about it - he is passionate about the topic, but he leaves out the details about the Covent Garden Theatre. It just hurts too much to think about, but other than that, Tim is excited about the topic. He gets so carried away and rambles on and on and on, he only stops when Jon and him get back to the institute. It takes even longer for Tim to catch up and realize that Jon just paid for both lunches while he went off on a monologue about Robert Smirke architecture. But when he tries to pay him back, Jon just waves him off.

 “Don’t worry about it. Besides, your lecture was very interesting, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

 From anyone else, this might have been a dig - but coming from Jon, Tim knows by now, it is a genuine statement that makes him way happier than it should.

 So, their lunch breaks together quickly turn into a tradition,

 Tim isn’t entirely sure what is more surprising; the fact that he manages to get Jon to actually leave his desk for human needs like food and social interaction, or that the two of them are enjoying it so much.

 Sometimes, they go to cafés or restaurants, trying out places that neither of them has been to before. It turns into them picking favourites, and then they become regulars at a small handful of places. Sometimes they simply go on a quick walk to pick up some food, other times they sit down and enjoy being out of the office for a little bit.

  One day, Tim arrives in the office early, and he brings lunch from home for Jon and himself for the first time.

 Tim has spent the previous night wide awake, unable to rest after a nightmare startled him out of a deep sleep. It takes a long time to get his breathing back under control, and very late at night, or very early in the morning, depending how you look at it, Tim gives up on sleep. After hours of useless tossing and turning, he won’t be able to rest, he knows from experience.

 Cursing under his breath, he pulls aside the covers and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths. Exhausted, both in a physical and emotional sense, he scrubs a hand over his face.

 The memories linger, and Tim feels like his whole chest is pulled together with anxiety and grief. Seven months. That’s how long it has been since he found Danny sitting in his dark living room in the middle of the night, crying silent tears as he had no idea what to do besides be there for him and offer comfort. Seven months since he followed his younger brother to the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and had to watch him being torn apart.

 Carefully, Tim forces himself to keep breathing as evenly as possible. In - hold - out - hold - in - rinse and repeat. His hands are shaking, and he tries to force them into stillness as he grips hard at the rumpled bed sheets.

 Attempting to go back to sleep is useless, he knows from experience, and so he makes his way down into the kitchen.

 This house feels too big, too empty without the presence of his little brother. He left a hole in his life, and even though it’s been months since Danny died, Tim hasn’t moved a single one of his possessions. Not yet - it hurts too much.

 Despite having been alone for a while now, Tim is still careful to leave the lights  out in the hallway, walking as quietly as he can in the middle of the night as if there was still someone around he could wake up with his movements. It’s a long standing habit, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever shake it off.

 It’s only when he arrives in the kitchen that Tim switches on the overhead light. It flickers to life, slowly, and the small kitchen is tinted into a warm light. Warm and homely, like this house once was. Now, it just feels painfully empty.

 With a long sigh, Tim makes his way to the sink and fills up a glass with water - his hands are still shaking and he spills a bit onto himself, but he doesn’t care. Caring about it is too much right now, so he focuses on draining the glass empty before refilling it again. He feels dehydrated, but given the night he’s had so far, it isn’t surprising.

 “I need a distraction.” he mumbles, and soon enough, he’s raided the pantry and his refrigerator. Tim pulls  out some pots and pans from the cupboard, scattering everything throughout his kitchen where it’ll be most convenient. The repetitive tasks of cooking have always had a relaxing effect on him, and soon enough, the room is filled with scents and aromas that make his mouth water. Even now, while he is absolutely miserable.

 The casserole ends up being huge. It’s way too much for one person, even one with an appetite. But cooking for one after being used to there being someone else is hard - kind of useless, while you’re already at it.

 Tim has had that problem ever since he’s been cooking on his own, but knowing that Danny will be back to join him again, freshly back from some cave diving or urban exploration or whatever other strange new hobby he’d found at the time.

 Now, Tim is all on his own. He sighs unhappily. Cooking was a good distraction, up until he is painfully reminded that no one is there anymore to share it with. Not here, at least.

 He allows himself a few minutes of quiet greif, seated at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and a lukewarm cup of tea, sitting on the table by his side, almost forgotten.

 By the time the sun is starting to rise, Tim is up and moving again. He has put the casserole in several plastic boxes and packs two of them into his work bag.

 When he arrives at the office, way earlier than he usually does, because what is the point of staying home doing nothing, Tim places one of the boxes at the edge of Jon’s desk.

 Jon seems to be mildly surprised by the early company, and even more so by the plastic box.

 “Oh, Good morning... What is this?” he asks then, mildly curious.

 “Lunch. I was cooking last night and it was way too much. Thought I’d bring some in to share.” Tim forces a smile along with the half-lie, if only to cover how tired he is. He needs coffee.

 The “Thank you” Tim gets in response is equally surprised and genuine, and he tries very carefully to not interpret too much into it. Especially because their shared meal feels a lot more homely and strangely intimate that day. Getting takeout together or sitting somewhere is one thing, but sharing a home-cooked meal is something entirely different, he finds. He also finds that he doesn’t mind it.

 Only a few days later, conveniently when every last bit of the casserole is gone, Tim finds a plastic box that isn’t one of his own sitting on his desk. Curiously, he opens it and finds it filled to the brim with homemade curry, rice and veggies. Even cold, it smells heavenly and makes his mouth water. Tim looks over to the desk opposite of him, where Jon is already typing away like he usually does, but when he looks up and finds Tim smiling brightly at him, he smiles back.

 Something in his chest feels incredibly warm and fluttering.

 One evening, when the two of them get out of the office equally late - Jon because he always does, and Tim because he may or may not have waited for him - they walk to the tube together.

 In a spontanous fit of bravery and “Oh well, fuck it”, Tim carefully rechaes out until his own fingers gently brush against Jon’s as they walk. It’s dark outside, only illuminated by the countless lights that illuminate the shops and pubs and the sides of the street they’re walking along. Tim does so casually and carefully enough to be ignored or taken as a coincidence if needed be, just in case. But then his heart almost stops for a second when after a moment of stiffness, Jon accepts the offer and closes his own fingers around Tim’s.

 His touch is light at first, but then his grip tightens a bit, warm and comfortably so, and it is clear that his heart is in it. Of course it is - the two of them have gotten close in the last few weeks and months. There might have been some wishful thinking on Tim’s end involved - Jon is not always great at picking up social cues, especially romantic ones.

 “That’s fine though” he tells him later, “You’re a huge enough flirt to make it up for the both of us.”

 Jon squeezes his hand, and Tim happily squeezes back as he keeps walking beside him, just a little bit closer than before.

 He can’t help but smile. Something like happiness blooms in his chest, and even though they don’t talk about it the entire way, even though they keep holding hands when they sit next to each other in the tube, they remain this close all the way until their ways separate and they have to get onto a different line each. It feels right, and the sudden loss of touch as their ways separate makes Tim wish it could last - but turning back and running after the other train seems kind of silly now, especially since he’ll see Jon again the very next day.

 This becomes A Thing as well. Touching, that is.

 Holding hands, brushing along each other when they reach for folders or mugs or books in the library. Speaking of which, Tim has learned very quickly that there is      no     way to stop Jon from literally climbing high spaces to reach whatever he needs. As of now, he is long used to watching him scale a bookshelf or kitchen counter, much to his own amusement.

 “Hold on tight, little monkey.” he tells him as he walks past, grinning from ear to ear, knowing full well that he can’t expect more than a scoff and,

 “Oh, shut up.” as a response.

 Tim keeps it up though - because it’s fun and he knows he’s allowed to get away with it. Which can’t be said for anyone else in the institute, not like anyone would have tried as far as he knows. But he is ridiculously proud of it nonetheless. Tim is still cackling to himself when he wraps an arm around the other man’s shoulders and keeps chatting away to him all the way back into the research offices.

 He has always been very openly affectionate, with family, friends and romantic partners or those he’d fancied. It’s part of who he is, and if he is honest with himself, it feels good to have some part of him back that’s always been there. It helps a bit, and even more so since Jon not only happily lets him, he also leans back into the touch. Jon’s attempts at seeking out touch are a lot more subtle than Tim’s, at least at first, but he knows and recognizes it for the sign of trust and comfort that it is.

 That afternoon, there isn’t much time to chat at their desks, but about an hour before they’re supposed to get off, a balled up piece of paper hits Tim’s hand, clearly coming from Jon, but the sneaky bastard isn’t giving indication that he stopped reading at all.

 With a small smile, Tim opens the note. It’s not like Mr.   Workaholic to pass notes on the clock, but then again, he has to give Jon credit for loosening up significantly since the day they met. Or, maybe warmed up to human company is more like it. (He very carefully tries not to think, or more like hope, that it's him in particular Jon has warmed up to so much. But then again, Tim has heard some of their coworkers whisper in astonishment that it’s completely unheard of that Jonathan Sims leaves his desk for breaks or in time in the evenings, let alone interacting with other human beings more than absolutely necessary. Tim also caught the rumors about the two of them being a couple - he’d almost laughed then. He fucking      wishes    .)

 Tim unfolds the note and reads;

     “I have a lot of leftover curry I made last night. Would you like to come over for dinner after work? - J.”  

 This has become A Thing, too. Sharing meals after work and sometimes on the weekends. It alternates where they go, but especially lately, they have preferred to go to either Tim’s house or Jon’s apartment instead of a restaurant. For one, going out to eat on a regular basis is expensive, but also, cooking together or eating the leftovers from a late night cooking binge is a lot more comfortable and homely.

 Sharing a meal and oftentimes a couch with someone fills at least part of the void that Tim finds inside of himself. He is struggling still, but having another human being in his personal space, warm and alive and happy to be there, means the world to him. He’s feeling something again, something that isn’t constant fear or everlasting sadness.

 They watch movies sometimes - it’s not exactly easy to find something that both of them       like    . Their tastes in movies are widely different from each other, so instead, they opt to choose obscure sci-fi movies or anything they can pick apart and make fun of. No horror - they haven’t talked about it, but this is one of the few movie-related things they are in silent agreement over.

 Truth be told, poking fun at bad movies together is much more entertaining than watching anything the normal way.

 They are stuffing their faces with snacks and complain at the protagonists for making very unwise or straight up unrealistic decisions, even in-universe illogical ones. They pick apart plot-points and anything that doesn’t add up  while they share space on the couch, either holding hands or leaning against one another.

 “Oh, of course, give me a break!” Jon grouses as he shakes his hand that is currently holding a few crisps at the TV, annoyed to no end, it seems. In truth, he is      enjoying     this. He enjoys this an awful lot, and so does Tim.

 He laughs out loud and pulls Jon a little closer to his side.

 “Yes, you tell the creepy alien why it’s mere existence even in this fictional universe doesn’t make sense, Love!” He eggs him on, and only realizes the pet name has slipped out of his mouth by the time he notices the deep blush creeping on Jon’s face. Oh shit.

     “Now don’t say anything to fuck this up, for once in you life, just shut up!”    Tim thinks to himself, carefully trying to remain as calm as he can. They’ve been holding hands for ages and they keep cuddling up on the couch - this isn’t anything unexpected, for heaven’s sake. Hell, if Jon were anyone different, they might have ended up in bed already, but Tim is aware that this probably isn’t going to happen anytime soon - or at all, if he isn’t entirely mistaken, based on  the hints and observations. First and foremost the slow and careful way in which their relationship to each other is changing and developing, but then again, he knows what the simple black ring on the middle finger on a person’s right hand usually means.

 Tim doesn’t ask though - he figures that if Jon wants to talk about it, he will do so eventually and at his own pace.

 So, Tim doesn’t push anything and carefully waits for a response. But there isn’t one, or at least nothing verbal. Instead of saying anything, neither to Tim or about the movie, Jon simply scoots a little bit closer to him, leaning against him and doesn’t let go of his hand. Tim takes this as a win and leans his head against the tuft of long black hair that tickles his cheek.

 Both of them relax in an instant, and if they end up falling asleep on the couch, legs a tangled mess and with the TV still on, well, the next morning isn’t nearly as awkward as it might have been once upon a time.

 It takes Tim, way longer than it should to realize that, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t startle awake screaming that night. Company helps. It helps a lot. Just knowing that there is someone else, that he isn’t alone and doesn’t have to wake up to an eerily empty house anymore helps.

 Tim doesn’t fool himself into thinking that everything will magically resolve itself - he knows it won't, especially because his research about the circus isn’t going anywhere yet.

 Sometimes, he feels guilty. Guilty for not spending every waking minute searching for hints, searching for answers to the things that have taken his brother and traumatized him for life. The calmer, logical part of his brain is aware that it doesn’t work like that - he needs a break sometimes, needs the time to himself and spend it with other people…. And goddammit, he deserves to be happy.

 Danny would have kicked his arse if he could hear him think this, would have told him to get a grip and do something that makes him happy. Because this is what scares him sometimes - the happiness, the times where he doesn’t think of the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden or circuses and… Skin. Just the thought alone makes him shudder, but he can’t stop thinking about those memories sometimes.

 “...Are you alright?”

 Tim blinks, not having realized that he must have zoned out. He’s still on the couch, slowly waking up and with Jon tucked somewhere next to him. He doesn’t sound very awake yet, but there is concern in his voice as he fixes Tim with a very direct look.

 “I- yes, just. Zoned out a bit there.” Tim shoots him his best bright smile, hoping he’ll be able to chase away the ghosts. At least for now. He sighs, and happily leans into the touch and hugs back when he can feel a pair of slim arms snaking around his waist. Jon doesn’t say anything, but he seems to pick up that something is bothering Tim. And much like him in emotional situations, Jon doesn’t know what to say. So he remains close and thankfully, this is exactly what Tim needs right now. Just being close to someone he cares a whole lot about, feeling their heartbeat near his own. Being held for a bit. He squeezes Jon in silent gratitude for being there, and hopes he can get across what he can’t say.

 It is Saturday and they have a whole weekend in front of them. After they peel themselves off of the couch, they stumble off to the bathroom after one another and then to the kitchen in an attempt to fuel themselves with tea and breakfast. It’s painfully, beautifully domestic.

 While he is keeping an eye on several pans on the propane stove, Tim is chatting away about something - he isn’t exactly sure himself, except it is something pointless that distracts him from his earlier train of thought. Jon and him are laughing and joking while they drink tea and prepare breakfast together. But after a while it looks like Jon wants to say something, stops himself, and then more of the same all over again.

 Eventually, Tim can’t watch him struggle over it anymore and straight out asks,

 “Hey. What’s going on in that fuzzy head of your’s?”

 It’s true - both of them still have a severe case of bed-heads, and Jon huffs at the question and tries to smooth down a few of the stubborn flyaways around his face. Only very mildly successful.

 “I… Was going to ask something.”

 “Alright? Shoot.” Tim very, very carefully swallows the joke he was about to make in the end - if this is going where he hopes it might, he doesn’t want one god awful pun to be part of the memory of it. So he waits.  

 Jon seems to be bracing himself, and then he turns around to face Tim.

 “I would like to kiss you. Is that okay?” he asks. A simple question, and yet - it means so much. Tim smiles at him, heart beating out of his chest as he steps closer to Jon.

 “Yes, I’d love that.”

 There are only mere inches separating them. Both Jon and Tim cross the last of the distance at once, hands searching for each other. Their fingers are interlacing tightly as soon as they touch, and just a split second later, their lips meet for the first time. There is no rush, nothing in this world that would get them to hurry anything up at this moment. Slowly, they kiss again and again, tasting faintly of the tea they had earlier, but even more so, it feels like comfort. Maybe even a little bit like home.

 A quiet happiness settles deep into them, and something seems to click into place. They are happy, and there is nowhere they’d rather be than anywhere, as long as they can be together.

 After a little while, their hands let go of each other, but only so they can pull one another closer. One of Tim’s hands is cupped around Jon’s cheek, thumb gently stroking over the soft stubble while his other arm remains wrapped around him, hand resting at the small of his back. Jon on the other hand, has to angle his head up a bit due to their height difference, but he doesn’t mind that at all. Both of his arms are wrapped around Tim’s torso, and if it was possible, he would like to remain like this forever.

 Unfortunately for the two of them, life has other plans.

 When the smell of something burning registers with the two of them, they regretfully break apart cursing and laughing as they quickly remove the pans from the heat.

 “That was - good lord, why now of all times?” Breathlessly and more than a little high from happy brain chemicals, they try to get a grip on themselves and on the situation.

 “Just like our luck, isn’t it?” Tim is joking, of course, but still. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

 “This       better     not become a habit.” Jon glares at the charred eggs and smoking pans as if they personally insulted him. He’d been having a good time, but of course something had to happen. Oh well.

 “We’ll just have to make up for it.” Tim winks at him, grinning widely. He doesn’t mean much by it, and he only realizes how that might have come across when Jon awkwardly clears his throat and says,

 “The kissing? Yes, absolutely. Other things… Well, most other things, actually… Not so much. I erm, I should have said that before now, I suppose. But, I’m Asexual.” he chooses his words slowly and deliberately, like he is trying to say them exactly right.

 Tim looks into his eyes, bright green and shining with happiness, but now, there is something else creeping into them. Self-doubt, insecurities - Tim isn’t sure, but he wants to do his best to make the doubts disappear - and apologize for his big mouth.

 “That’s absolutely fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that - I wasn’t implying anything else, I promise.”

 Slowly, Jon nods, visibly relaxed now. He asks,

 “So… We’re good?”

 “We are. More than good actually, if you ask me.” Tim finds himself smiling again, which is something he’s been doing so much more lately. Then he tucks away a strand of hair from Jon’s face and kisses him again, just as gentle as before. He is happy to find that he returns the kiss in an instant, pushing close until the two of them end up pressed up against the kitchen table. After they break apart again, they remain standing in an embrace.

 “I like you, Jon. I like you a lot. I love being around you and with you, just for who you are. Yes, I enjoy sex, but I don’t need it. So if you don’t want to, that is okay and it doesn’t make a difference to me. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

 He nearly says, “I love you” but that might be a little early - saying it too early has ruined his relationships in the past, and although what Jon and he have is something different, Tim doesn’t want to risk it.

 But as it turns out, he said the right thing. Jon looks a lot more relaxed than before, and he keeps a loose hold around Tim’s hips.

 “Thank you, Tim, that’s… Very reassuring actually. I’ve been with people who reacted quite a bit differently to this, so” Jon shrugs, but it is clear that this isn’t a happy memory.

 “I appreciate you.” He adds, and Tim pulls him a little bit closer.

 “I’m sorry. These people fucking suck.”

 “That’s one way to put it, yes.” Jon smiles, and pulls Tim down for another, longer kiss. It feels just as intoxicating as before. Then he tells him,

 “And, just for the record. I like you a lot, and spending time with you makes me very happy.

 The giddy happiness stays with them - being freshly in love and being freshly together is exciting. It is a feeling Tim will never get tired of. The thing is, being together with Jon doesn’t change a whole lot - they are still on opposite desks from each other at work, they still spend their lunch breaks together and Tim actually manages to get Jon to leave the office at 5pm these days,  instead of late at night like he did for the longest time. They still have dinner together most days and they often spend their weekends together. All of these are things they did before, but now, it still feels… Different.

 Then of course, there are the casually affectionate touches throughout the day. They’d like to think that they’re being more discreet here, but then again, at least Tim has never been shy about throwing arms around people or bumping shoulders or anything like that. In fact, people would probably get concerned and suspicious if he stopped doing any of it.

 The point is: they keep it down to normal levels at work, but they seem to be glued together whenever they’re off the clock. Whether they hold hands, hug, kiss, bump shoulders, hips, arms or hands, or sometimes simply nap stacked on top of each other, they are always touching in some way. Both of them soak up the contact like sponges, and they know without having even talked about it in detail that they spent quite a bit of time lonely and touch starved before… This. Their relationship.

 Waking up with one another in the mornings is probably Tim’s favourite part of all. Holding onto each other with their legs tangled together, hands searching for warm skin to rest on and heads pillowed on each other's shoulder or chest. Sharing breaths of air - all of this feels wonderful and intimate in it’s own way, and he can’t get enough of it.

 Waking up in the morning is a peaceful thing. But some nights, unfortunately, are not. Both of them have nightmares on a regular basis. They find that they generally sleep better when they are not alone, and having someone to hold close or bury into when the lingering horrors hit, helps significantly.

 Some nights, it’s Jon who startles awake in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving as he frantically looks around himself until he realizes where he is, or until Tim wakes up and mumbles quiet reassurances into his hair as he holds him close until the tremors have calmed down.

 If they’re lucky, they manage to fall back asleep after a while, but if not, they simply stay awake, cuddled up under soft blankets and they just talk. Their topics of conversation vary widely, ranging from silly, lighthearted distractions to things they did or experienced in their past, as well as heartfelt conversations that are about much more than just that.

 Tim himself has his fair share of nightmares as well, ever since he lost Danny. And even though having Jon close by and being held at night helps to keep them at bay sometimes, there are still nights where he startles awake either screaming or crying or both.

 The first time it happens, Tim wakes up terrified and tangled in the sheets. His shirt clings to the cold sweat that is running down his back and his breath comes out in irregular, shaky bursts.

     A dimly lit circus arena, old and dusty with centuries of dirt. Tim can’t move. It’s like he is rooted to the spot, and yet, his legs won’t stop shaking. He is shivering from the cold - no surprise, since he ran out in nothing but his pyjamas earlier, and this place is surprisingly freezing for a hot August night. Tim can feel the cold, but more so than anything, he is absolutely terrified.  

     He wants to scream, to run, do anything but stand here - but it’s impossible. The crumpled form of his brother - or the        Thing         that pretends to be Danny - sits motionless and hunched over, no matter how much Tim tries to call out for him. Not a single word leaves his throat, even though his vocal cords hurt from the strain he’s been putting on them. But Danny doesn’t hear him - can’t hear him.  

     From out of the shadows, Tim can see… Something. It looks like a clown, but it’s wrong. Too long, too folded up to be human. It drags itself across the floor slowly and grotesquely, like a creature from a horror movie, up until it stops. Unlike a movie creature though, this is very much reality.  

     Breathing is hard, and Tim wants to force his body to move, but still, there is nothing he can do. Part of him wants to believe that this… Place, this        Thing         is influencing his ability to move somehow, but then again, he might just as well be paralyzed by fear.  

     The clown moves forward, right towards Danny. As it unfurls itself, it is clear that there are smears of blood all over its face, red and bold and dripping wet.  

     “Shall I?” it asks, with a voice that is playful in the worst possible way. Too happy, and way too sinister. Tim can’t even answer, still unable to talk or move or do anything, but he can feel the bile rise in his throat. He wants to grab Danny and run, but knows he can’t. He wants to scream, cry or throw up, anything but watch the scene unfolding in front of him.  

     None of this happens though.  

     Instead, Tim is forced to stand motionless and helpless, watching in agony and horror as the clown moves much more quickly than he could have anticipated. It’s not as much that he can actually see the movement, but Tim can feel it. He can feel the breeze of air on his face, and just a split second later, it has removed the entirety of Danny’s skin. His limp, bloody and bare form slumps forward, and it is only then that Tim actually starts screaming.  

         He is screaming his head off,  loud, desperate and terrified. Tim is shaking like a leaf. Breathing is impossible, and it takes him way too long to realize that in order to breathe, he needs to calm down for just a second. It takes even longer for him to realize that he is at home, safely in bed and long out of this situation. But Danny… Danny is just as dead.

 Between ragged, forced breaths, Tim is curling in on himself, unable to register that Jon has woken up and is talking to him in a low, concerned voice. He tries to get his partner to calm down at least a bit, afraid he’ll end up hyperventilating from panic.

 Tim doesn’t register any of it. He can’t make out Jon’s gentle voice trying to bring him back, doesn’t register the light, careful touch on his arm in an attempt to soothe without scaring him further. Tim curls himself into a tight, shaking ball without noticing any of it.

 After the first initial panic, there is a brief moment of silence, but after that, he breaks. Ragged breath turns into uncontrollable, hiccuping sobs and it is only then that Tim realizes the familiar pair of arms slipping around him in a protective embrace. He uncurls just enough to be able to hug back and let Jon slip closer to him, which he does as soon as humanly possible. Tim clings onto him for dear life as Jon curls himself around him in what must be an uncomfortable or at least awkward position, but this is the last thing on his mind.  All Jon cares about right now is making sure that Tim is okay, or at least, as okay as he can be.

 Their bodies are pressed flush together, tightly enough for them to feel each other's rapidly beating hearts hammering out of their chests. Tim tries to focus on that, tries to focus on the carefully even rhythm of breath that Jon attempts to get him to follow.

 His presence is constant, warm and comforting. Tim can feel his weight on top of himself, the hold of his arms around him. Strands of hair and warm breath on his neck are a familiar sensation as well, something he’s been getting used to lately. Even more so, it is something that Tim loves and associates with home by now. And while the fear and pain caused by his nightmare are still very much lingering, he is able to relax in order to calm down eventually. Slowly but surely, a little bit over the course of - he doesn’t even know how long.

 Time has lost all meaning at this point. It might take him minutes or hours to breathe normally again, and at some point, Tim realizes that the steady stream of talking, besides the quiet attempts to comfort and assure him, are actually bits and pieces of random information. Anything to keep talking and keep up a steady presence, Tim supposes, but he is eternally grateful for it. He shifts a bit, arms still wrapped tightly around Jon, although he’s stopped clinging as much by now. He stretches out a little bit without letting go of their embrace - everything hurts from holding himself so tense for so long. Then Tim pulls the both of them onto their side so they can cuddle properly.

 Gentle hands keep running through his messy mop of purple hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp. Tim leans into it, soaking up the touch like a sponge. He’s stopped shaking now, he notices, and he registers a lot more sensations than he did before.

 Little sounds around the house, wind outside, the occasional car. Most of all, he registers all the different little touches from Jon, and the way he keeps talking to him even now.

 After a while, he leans in to kiss Tim’s forehead, thumbs wiping away a few stray tears. It seems like the worst of the storm is over by now, but Jon stays close. He’s never seen Tim in such a state, and it worries him to no end. At least it looks like he isn’t in severe panic anymore.

 “Do you want to talk?” Jon asks quietly, but all Tim can manage is shake his head. It's not like he      could    talk right now if he tried. He doesn't trust his voice, knowing it will break, which is probably going to set him off again and he's not ready to face that.

 Maybe, a part of him wants to talk about what happened. Sure, it is going to hurt regardless, whenever he decides he is ready for it, but there is no doubt that it will help to get it off of his chest. But Tim doesn’t know how he is supposed to talk about the horrors he's witnessed. Where would he even start? How does he explain all of it without sounding - well.

 “That’s alright.” Jon tightens his hold around Tim as he shifts a little bit, without letting go, so he can rest his head on top of Tim’s. There is a quiet, almost suffocating sadness radiating off of him, and even though he doesn’t know what happened that got him into this state, Jon offers him all the support he can, in any way he knows how. Physical touch seems to help a lot, thankfully. That, he can do forever.

 “I’m here for you. Whatever it is you need, I’m here.”

 The sun is starting to rise on the horizon, but Tim and Jon remain in bed, wrapped up around each other just like before. Birds are starting to sing outside, even before the first rays of the morning sun tint the room into a low light.

 “I love you. I’m here for you, and I love you.”

                             Notes:

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (5)

Happy Halloween! This chapter isn’t spooky, but I hope you still enjoy! If you haven’t read my Halloween one shot from a couple weeks back, go check it out!

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 3727 (a long boi just for y’all)

Warnings: Brief discussion of harassment and injuries, but nothing explicit; some strong language

% Approximately the end of the 1st week of October %

You entered school early the next morning to find everyone chattering in the halls, many of them looking and even pointing as you passed by.

Well that’s… unusual.

You were at your locker when Alexis popped up beside you.

“Did you hear? Tom got kicked out of football practice this morning and he’s suspended! He’s not allowed to play in tomorrow’s game either!”

You slammed the metal door shut.

“What!?”

“Yeah! Something about him beating up some of the other players after school. Serves him right for being such a dick all these years.”

“No it doesn’t. Not this time.”

“What are you talking about, y/n? Aren’t you happy to see his demise? This is the revenge you’ve been waiting for!”

“Alexis, you don’t understand. Tom beat those guys up because they were catcalling me yesterday. He was sticking up for me.” 

You ran a hand through your hair and noticed Harrison and his goons down the hall flexing. “I need to go to the principal. It’s them who should be suspended, not him.”

“Okay, well, do you need me to come with you for moral support? I know how Mrs. Johnson can be,” Alexis offered. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m the one in the middle of this. Just go to class and let me know what other people are saying.”

With that, you headed to the office, shooting a death glare into the bruised faces of Harrison’s laughing crew as you passed by, trying not to make it obvious what you were doing.

When you entered, the secretary looked up at you and smiled.

“Oh, Miss y/l/n. What brings you in here this morning?”

“I really need to talk to Mrs. Johnson, as soon as possible.”

“Oh. Okay then. Is everything alright?”

“No. That’s what I need to talk to her about.”

“Alright then. I’ll go see if she’s available.”

She got up and disappeared for a few minutes, then popped back out.

“She’s okay to see you whenever you’re ready,” she said, sitting back down at her desk.

“Thanks,” you said passively as you stood up and entered the office, shutting the door behind you. You stood still, not sure if you should sit down yet.

“Well, good morning, y/n. What brings you into my office today? Don’t see you in here much,” she smiled, looking back down at a few papers on her desk. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, tapping a hand on your thigh anxiously.

“What’s wrong, y/n? You look nervous. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

You looked down and then finally spit it out.

“It’s about Tom. He didn’t do anything wrong yesterday after school.”

You sat down in front of the principal as she looked up at you.

“I’m sorry, what? Now, I don’t know what you’ve heard but he started a fight in the parking lot. That’s wrong in my book.”

You looked at your lap, playing with the plastic ring you’d continued to wear since late August.

“He only did it because the other guys were harassing me yesterday. They were catcalling and whistling and he was trying to stick up for me. It’s the other guys that should be in trouble, not him.”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to protect him? I know you two are friends.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Johnson, we have always been enemies. We may seem like friends because of that marriage project thing but… I would never lie about any harassment for Tom Holland or anyone else. If those three guys had gone after me… I mean, I’m strong, but, I’m not that strong. I’m thankful for what Tom did for me, and I know he’d do it again for any woman.”

Mrs. Johnson looked at you for a few moments, then nodded her head.

“Okay, well. I’ll have a chat with Tom and the other boys and see what I can do. Thank you for being willing to come to me. Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?”

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ve dealt with this before and probably will again. I just really needed you to know that Tom doesn’t deserve to be in trouble while the others are walking around free.”

She nodded. 

“Like I said, thank you for letting me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

You got up to leave. Your hand was on the doorknob when she said one last thing.

“You know, I wish I was more like you. The same thing used to happen to me when I was your age. I’m glad you actually had the guts to say something about it.”

You parted your lips to speak, but instead gave a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod. With that, you were out the door.

%

You sat in honors english next to Alexis, a pit in your stomach.

People kept looking at you, which was weird, but you figured it was because Tom wasn’t there for you to have typical banter.

You worried about Tom a lot, and hoped that Mrs. Johnson’s parting words meant she really cared about what you said. You decided to shoot him a text.

Hey. Idk if you’ve heard anything, but I went and told Mrs. Johnson that you were just trying to stick up for me, and mentioned that we’re enemies or whatever. She was gonna look into the other guys getting in trouble. Sorry.

By the time lunch rolled around, you were getting tired of the eyes on you. Usually you loved the attention, but something about it felt different today.

“What is everyone’s problem?” you finally asked Alexis and the rest of your friend group before biting into a carrot. “It’s like they’re all looking at me more than the normal amount.”

“Well… it’s probably because they are,” one friend said.

“And why is that? Like duh Tom’s not here. Big whoop. We’ve both missed school before.”

Alexis looked at you sheepishly.

“Lex, what are you not telling me?” you interrogated.

“Welllll… it might have something to do with someone spilling that Tom and you were seen hugging last night after your game, and now Harrison is using it to say Tom beat him up because he loves you or something.”

“I swear I’m going to kill that bitch ass.” you replied back, looking around the room. 

After a quick scan, it’s obvious that he and the other guys aren’t there. A sly smile rose to your face. 

Maybe Mrs. Johnson was on your side after all, and hopefully she’d see past any lies Harrison might tell her.

%

Tom was sitting in Mrs. Johnson’s office, flanked by his parents.

“Miss y/l/n explained to me that the boys you got in a fight with were harassing her. Is this true?”

“Yes, ma’am. I sat there and watched it happen and didn’t didn’t do anything about it, but then she called me out and I realized how disgusting it was, what they did.”

“Hm. And you found the best course of action to be punching Mr. Osterfield instead of coming to the administration?”

“I know what I did was wrong, but I didn’t want to tell her story for her. If she wanted to come out and say what happened then that’s her choice, but I couldn’t sit back and let them get away with it. I feel that it’s my responsibility to keep both my teammates and fellow men accountable.”

The principal looked at Tom for a few moments as she contemplated.

“Well, she came to me this morning and asked that I review your suspension. I also talked to the other boys and they admitted to saying a few graphic things to her. I just need to ask you one more thing: if this had happened to any other girl, would you have still gone after those boys?”

“In a heartbeat, Mrs. Johnson. I just think of what would happen if it were my mom, or a relative, or my future wife. No woman deserves to be treated that way.”

She nodded slowly, then shuffled some papers on her desk.

“Well, Tom. What you did was wrong, but I can tell that you know that. I’ll also say that you were doing it for a noble cause. It takes a lot to go up against three athletes and you didn’t come out unscathed. Since this is your only offense, I’m ending your suspension after today. You may go back to class tomorrow and play in the football game, but this suspension is staying on your record for now. If you don’t get into any more trouble by the end of the semester, I’ll take it off and you’ll be put back into the running for valedictorian.”

“Thank you! Thank you so, so much, Mrs. Johnson, you won’t regret it.”

She chuckled at his earnestness.

“Yes, well. You’re a good kid, Tom,” she looked to his parents. “And you two have raised an incredible young man. I’m pretty sure if there had been more people like Tom and y/n in my high school, the world would be a much better place.”

With that, they stood, exchanging gratitude and handshakes. 

Dom and Nikki slung an arm over their son’s shoulders as they walked back to the parking lot, proud of the son they’d raised.

%

You were laying on your bed after dinner scrolling through social media when your phone began to ring. 

It was Tom.

You quickly picked up and placed the phone to your ear.

“Tom!?”

“Hey, y/n.”

“Oh my gosh! I tried to text you earlier but I figured your phone got taken away or something. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. And yes, I was grounded from my phone.”

“You say ‘was’ as though something has changed.”

“Well… Mrs. Johnson reversed my suspension,” he began.

“That's amazing!”

“I know, but she’s keeping it on my record until December. She said she’ll take it off if I can stay out of trouble but until then, I can’t be considered for valedictorian.”

“WhatI!” you exclaimed into the phone, shooting up to a sitting position.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy about that?”

“No! Now I’ll have no one to compete with! We all know you and I are miles ahead of everyone else, so without you, I’ll have precisely zero motivation!”

Tom laughed at your self concern while you twisted your star ring.

“Well I’m glad you were worried about me. I’m getting to play in the game tomorrow too.”

“That’s great. You’ll have to dedicate your win to me.”

“That depends on if we win, but seriously, thank you. If it weren’t for you I’d probably be in way more trouble.”

“About that… why didn’t you tell her what actually happened this morning? This probably could have been avoided,” you suggest.

“I didn’t want to come forward for you without your permission. It happened so fast that I was willing to just take the fall instead of dragging you into it. It obviously worked out in the end, anyways. The other guys got suspended for most of next week and can’t play in the next two games.”

“Woah. Johnson was serious. Hopefully that’ll teach them some consequences of not respecting women. Will your hand be okay, though? It looked pretty beat up yesterday.”

“Well thankfully I punch with the left and throw with the right, so I should be good there. I’m mostly just worried about everyone seeing my ugly bruised face.”

“It can’t be that bad. Plus, if anyone tries to give you shit about it just remind them where you got it. Not many people can say they took down three football players with just their fists.”

He laughed again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess so. Anyways, I just wanted to call to tell you the news and thank you. See you tomorrow?”

“Sounds good, champ. We both need to rest up for our big days.”

“Champ? Is that my new nickname?” he questioned.

“Hm. We’ll see how it feels when I’m saying it to your face.”

“Alright, princess. Goodnight.”

You felt a flutter in your stomach.

“Night, Tom.”

%

The talk of the school on Friday was how Tom was back and Harrison’s posse was gone.

And everyone knew you had something to do with it.

You were popular and friends with a lot of people, but unless you were super close, they were usually pretty intimidated by you. Because of this, very few students came to ask you about what was going on.

Different rumors floated around all day, some saying that you and Tom were secretly dating, others claiming that you and Harrison were the ones dating, or that you were stuck in a love triangle with the two.

It was exhausting.

In home ec, the class was baking cinnamon rolls when Mrs. Flynn got everyone’s attention.

“Okay, class! I just wanted to ask if there were any couples wanting to get ‘divorced’? I want to figure out how to redistribute over the weekend for those that do.”

Three couples raised their hands and Mrs. Flynn wrote them down.

“Is there anyone else?” she scanned the room, stopping when her eyes met Tom. She looked between the both of you and raised her eyebrows.

You and Tom looked at each other, smiled, then back at her. You both shook your heads no. She pursed her lips, then grinned back.

“Alrighty then. Speak now or forever hold your peace!”

%

Your volleyball game that afternoon was a quick win, so you had plenty of time to shower and change before the football game that night.

There was a nip in the air now that it was the beginning of October, so you’d wiggled into some jeans and put on a long sleeved volleyball shirt. Your hair was pulled into two loose french braids that fell down your shoulders.

Your friends, having nothing to do while you got ready, had decided to go to the field early to do some “boy scouting” as they liked to call it, so you found them on the front row of the student section staring at the other teams' asses in their football pants.

Caroline and Alexis were talking about their own marriage project stuff when you sat down, waving to all of your friends.

“There you are! Did you eat dinner?” Alexis asked with concern.

“Hold on,” you reached into your bag and pulled out a sandwich from your favorite shop, unwrapping it and taking a big bite before continuing. “How’s it looking out there?”

Caroline leaned forward to talk to you.

“Numbers 11 and 28 are the cutest but it doesn't look like they’ll make it off the bench tonight,” she commented.

“Ugh. It always ends up that way, doesn’t it?”

You all talked some more as students filed in and the bleachers filled up.

You saw the team captains go to do the coin toss and watched Tom, who had tape around his left hand. 

As they came back to the bench, Tom noticed you and pointed his helmet towards you. He fished his necklace from his jersey to show you, then stuffed it back in before putting his helmet on.

You hadn’t really understood what he was trying to say, but assumed it was something about dedicating the game to you, so you just tossed a thumbs up at him and went back to your conversation.

The team had a long, rough game, but pulled out another win by just a field goal once again. You were headed to the parking lot when you heard a male voice yelling your name. 

You stopped to see it was Tom coming after you while the other girls went ahead to their vehicles.

Tom was covered in sweat and when he reached you was out of breath. His cheek had swollen up again and his bruises were apparent under the streetlights. 

“Hey. I parked by you so I figured we could walk together since my parents took the boys home.”

“Okay, I guess. Good game by the way. Your hand didn’t seem to stop you.”

“Thanks. It’s definitely hurting now. I’m just glad I’m not the reason we played poorly. Our defense is in major need of work, with and without our three missing players.”

“I could definitely tell. It must feel nice though, to win without them.”

“You have no idea. And yes, I dedicate this win to you,” he joked.

“As you should,” you fired back as you reached your car. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yep. I’ll try not to sleep through my alarm this time.”

%

Tom slept through his alarm.

Dom had let you in and mentioned that he thought he’d heard Tom rustling around upstairs, so you sat at the dining room table and did homework while waiting.

That morning, your friends and you had decided to go for a nice brunch, so for once you were dressed up nice, wearing a muted pink corduroy skirt and a flowy white v-neck. You had re-braided your hair into two loose french braids and wore some light makeup.

As you were working Nikki walked in.

“Oh my goodness. Stay right there, the lighting is perfect for some pictures.”

She ran out of the room and eventually came back with a camera and some light reflecting boards. As she was setting up the tripod, she started talking to you.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to do a photoshoot like this for a while. I haven’t done a real sit down shoot since I’ve been taking pictures at football games, and you’re the perfect subject.”

She directed you to pose certain ways, mostly trying to get candid pictures while you worked, but took some smiling portraits as well. After a little while, Tom appeared in the room with some coffee, his face still dark but somewhat better. 

“What are you guys doing in here?”

“Oh I’m just shooting y/n. I’m almost done. Why don’t you go sit down next to her and look like you’re working together.”

He rolled his eyes, used to his mother’s antics. He couldn’t blame her, it was her profession, after all.

“Do you really want me in pictures looking like this?” 

She looked up at him, remembering that he still looked pretty beat up. 

“Hold on, I can fix that,” she claimed, getting up. She returned with some foundation and concealer. He sat mostly still as she lightly applied it, wincing some when she dabbed her sponge over the darkest bruise. 

He took the seat next to you once she was done and Nikki told you to pose as though you were working together. She also got a few shots of you both looking seriously at the camera, then smiling.

At one point, Tom made a joking remark that caused you both to look at each other and laugh. You pretended not to notice the shutter click and flash light up.

After seemingly the hundredth picture of you and Tom together, he got fed up.

“Can we please be done now, mom. We need to work on our project.”

“Yes! Sorry, sorry. I was so deep into the zone that I forgot. You two were just being so cute.”

You felt yourself blush as Tom stood up.

“Okay, mom. We’re gonna go upstairs…” he blurted.

You gathered everything and followed him, almost running into Paddy when you reached the top of the stairs.

“Wow… y/n. You look so pretty,” he said quietly, blushing. You grinned sweetly.

“Thank you, Paddy. That’s very kind.”

“Don’t you agree, Tom? Don’t you think she looks pretty, too?” Paddy asked his older brother, who looked tense.

“Yes, Patrick. She looks very nice today. Now bug off, we need to work on our project,” he muttered. 

As you passed by, you thanked Paddy once more, amused at his middle school crush on you.

When you got to Tom’s room, you set down your stuff and pulled out a pair of leggings.

“I’m gonna go change real quick. You know my computer password by now so you can pull up the budget. I also have some makeup wipes in that pocket if you want them.”

When you came back, Tom was standing, rummaging around his desk. His face was also clean of the makeup.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, you’re back. I was looking for that paper Flynn gave us Monday. I set it up here somewhere.”

You stuffed your skirt into your backpack and sat by your computer to see what he had done so far. He let out a soft “aha!” 

He opened up a drawer and dug around in it too.

“Wanna kiss?” he asked dismissively.

“Excuse me?”

He turned around, holding something silver in his hand. 

“A Hershey’s kiss. Get your mind out of the gutter.”  

He tossed you a chocolate and you rolled your eyes unwrapping it.

“It’s kind of hard to get what you mean without context.”

You popped it into your mouth as he uncased his, sitting back down.

“I keep a bunch of candies and stuff in that drawer so my brothers can’t steal them. Don’t tell any of them.”

“Deal, as long as you’ll get me another one.”

%

As you were leaving that afternoon, Nikki stopped you in the doorway.

“Oh, y/n, I’m glad I caught you. I was wanting to ask, have you’ve gotten senior pictures done yet?”

“No, but I’ve been wanting to get volleyball ones done soon while the leaves are changing color.”

“Oh perfect. I was planning on taking Tom to do his football pictures next Sunday if you’d like to join us. I’ll do them for free if you’re okay with me putting them on my website.”

“Absolutely! Where are you planning on going and I can just meet you there,” you agreed, happy to have that weight off your shoulders.

“Well my parents have this lake house about an hour away and Tom really wanted to get some shots around the dock and woods. Would that be alright with you? You could just come here and I’ll drive us out. It would just be the three of us.”

“That sounds perfect, Nikki. We can figure out details next Saturday?”

“Absolutely. See you next weekend, dear.”

%

A/N: Fun fact, the “wanna kiss” scene is what actually caused me to make this entire story! The idea popped into my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about it and somehow it turned into this. So yeah! Have a great week!

Pls message or send an ask to be added to the permanent or story tag list!

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe,

[idjitlili]

Hello there.

Kili x reader x obi-wan(slightly)

(Not my image)

Summary: Annoying the company with your 'sword'  pretending it's not a metal sword, being unladylike. When in fact it wasn't a sword...it was a lightsaber.

Word count:6036

Warnings: Obi-wan , language, food stealing, dwarf nudity, put some clothes on!

Y/h/c= Your home country.

It was no secret, that you weren't from middle earth, with your strange speech, strange references, oh and the simple fact that you had fallen from the sky knocking Kili right out. Not just Kili but yourself before. You would've been quite embarrassing; if you were awake. Lucky you.

When you eventually you did awake, you were surrounded by below average height men , and man with a grey hair and wizards hat. One of the smaller men? Or dwarf you weren't sure if this was even real, it was strange to see such shorter men. His hair dark, shoulder length, not styled well compared to all the others, as for his beard..it was just stubble. The other men had long braided beards.

Yet there sat this man, very different to the others , barely with it, like he had hit his head, there you felt it , your head felt like your brain was going to pop out. You noticed , a smaller fellow jumping behind the small man to see, his curly blond her upon his head, was all to be seen.

The man that looked right out of a wrestling ring, glared at you , judging you, as did the one with ocean eyes and majestic hair. You hands behind you in the dry dirt, your heart beating heavily, shaking almost. "Uhm, w-what is h-" you didn't even get a sentence out before you were interrupted by the beardless short man.

"Well you fell out of the sky and fell on me, knocking me straight out." The man was not quite happy, "uhm, I guess I'm sorry? I didn't plan from falling from the sky, I'll try next time to see where I'm falling, but oh right, I never consented to be thrown from the sky, last time I was conscious I was- actually I do not remember." Blabbering on, even though really you should be terrified.

In the end , Gandalf and Thorin questioned you, as if they were Holt and Terry, Gandalf being Terry.

"Where do you come from, human?" The mans face frowning, the same as he had as you awoke, he spoke with sternly, as if you were a threat. Extremely intimidating. Now the others had left ,as you now sat in front of the two men.

"Uh, y/h/c." Their clothing didn't sit right with you, nor did you ever see anyone with such extreme hair styles. Maybe it was a cult?  The old man , and the slightly younger man looked at each other , then back to you , clearly confused, well the younger one anyways.

"Tell me dear, have you ever heard of Erebor?"

Thus, for whatever reason you were apart of this dwarven company, as it were.  No one was sure what in gods earth caused you to be here, well there's no 'God' in middle earth, not called God anyways.

Honestly, you didn't know what to do with yourself: no blankets, no spare clothes, no nothing except you , your thin graphic t-shirt, jeans and shoes.  Thorin was definitely no help, oh yes and no money. Who would accept plastic notes as currency here? Nor were coins from where you lived were made from gold.

Oh wait you did actually have something other than you and your clothes , you had tiny little sword, which was in fact just an letter opener, you must've been opening the post before you fell out of the sky.

Not only was it awkward between you and all the dwarves, you did not fit in. Oh yes, Gandalf explained to you that elves and wizards existed, basically explained everything. Thorin had decided this was the place they would rest for the night, so you didn't have to do any travelling... except from falling out of the sky.

You could only think, it must suck to shit squatting, oh yes you'd have to face shitting the forest soon enough... without toilet paper too. It is not even like you can be certain that no one is going to walk into the forest and find you shitting or even worse no pads bleeding out.

You were definitely not looking forward to that,  since there was no confirmation that you'd be getting home anytime soon.

So, now as the day grew dark, you sat against a large rough pine tree, the cold from the ground rising up your body. Knees pulled right up to your chest, your arms tight around, as goose bumps covered you like paint covers a wall. Hair dropping down your face as you leaned forward head on top of your knees.Staring at your feet, and the ground.

You thought on what your family must think, maybe it was like the labyrinth and they had forgotten that you had even existed. Bloody hell, Jareth, you didn't even wish for this to happen.

Not breaking out of thought when three pairs of boots, and a pair of overly large hair feet, were stood in front of you.  "Lass?"  Even then, you didn't realise, only noticing their presence when a hand was placed onto your shoulder.

Only then did you realise, looking up to see the the beardless man that you knocked out, somehow, another man with a hat , the other below average height man that looked like lion cross Seth rogen , and the jumping small fellow. "O-oh hi?"   Strange that's the only way you could put it, the two brunettes grinning largely down at you.

"Excuse their bad manners, my lady. That is Kili, my brother , Bofur, and this little fellow is Bilbo Baggins... Oh right, and I am Fili at your service." Each of them doing a little bow, Bilbo's face redden a little , being called little. What did he expect, 'Oh yes, this giant fellow with the fat ass is Bilbo.'  Them staring at you waiting for you to introduce yourself.

"Uh, I'm y/n."  Standing up , daring to do a small curtsey, with a small blush, surprised really that anyone had even approached you.

"Beautiful name, perfect, I guess I'm falling for you already, miss y/n , you know since you knocked me out."

You almost blushed at the m-Kili's words, now blushing in embarrassment. "I didn't me-" "he's only messin' with yer, lass, don't yer worry," The hatted dwarf know as Bofur had smiled at you, only to get a jab in the side by kili, only for him to return it twice as hard.

"I'm sorry, miss y/n? I'm just wondering about your clothing-" Bilbo had began to questions your clothing choice, only to be interrupted, bad manners? Definitely. "Yes, those pants are very lovely, can you do a spin-" "OI," A big muscly man, the one that had glared at you earlier had smacked the beardless dwarf on the back of his head, letting out a Yelp of pain.

"What I was going to say, before I was rudely interrupted was, are you not cold? You are barely dressed!" You had choked out a snort, at the hobbit , who had glared at Kili, he really did not like dwarves interrupting, well anyone, he's not racist.

"I'm not dressed? You've got no socks on! My mum would have scolded me, even if I just got out of the bath. 'Y/n, where's your socks! You are going to get ill! Y/n, I don't care if you have just sat down, go get your bloody socks on.' "  Starring back at you feet, now stretched across the mud, it was incredibly awkward, well until they had started laughing.

"That's just like our Amad, right, fee?" Kili had called to his brother, before sitting down on the mud near you. "Oh yes, remember when Amad told you not eat all that cake-" Looking over to Kili who's face flushed red, interrupting his brother.

"Don't you dare."  Bofur , Fili and Bilbo sat down,  you sat in a circle, Fili trying to hold back from laughing. "Well ye gotta tell us now,Fili." Bofurs hand supported his head eager for Fili to continue. Bilbo the same, he loved stories.  Kili's pleading eyes, were no match for his brother.

"Alright, so he ate all the cake, this stuff was heavily creamed, sweets covered it, it could feed 12 dwarves, that's saying a lot. Our Amad strictly told us, mostly Kili, not to eat it."

Fili's moustache braids jiggled as he talked, very distracting, letting out a small chuckle while talking a breath.  "Anyways, Amad woke up in the morning, she was not happy at all, she had yelled so loud, that me, Kili, and Thorin were awoken from upstairs. All three of us rushed down the stairs, to see the table with no cake, just the plate. Amad  stood there with her face redder than a smacked bosom, hands on her hips."

Kili face now in his hands, Fili grinning larger and larger by the second. " She had looked all three of us done, before calling Kili towards him, and it was dreadfully obviously his hair had cake crumps throughout it, he got scolded so bad."

"Is that it ," Bilbo was disappointed with the outcome, he had thought it would've been more suspenseful. "No master Baggins, Thorin later took us for training with Dwalin as well as many other viewers. Basically what happened was Dwalin threw him over his head and he landed on the floor, when he finally tried to stand up he let loose the loudest wet fart.  Then, he stood up and the back of his pants were covered, and out the ends of his trousers... he had to walk home like that."

Bursts of laughter had erupted through the circle, Kili just looked horrified with his brother, placing your hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up to you, with a sad smile.

"Don't feel bad, someone I knew yawned up to the sky and a bird shat in her mouth, to make matters worse she was afraid to tell anyone so she spat it out, and stood there with bird shit taste." 

Looking at you wide eye,  "T-they did what?"

"A bird shat in their mouth."

"Such crude language, yet suddenly I feel much better." Kili smiling up to you, the other three still laughing about Kili's shitty pants.

A friendship between you and the dwarf ,you knocked out, began. Over the months you had gotten more comfortable with the company.

Soon enough you were all captured by trolls, but you were sleeping so, you woke up and everyone was packing to leave. You were very confused indeed, Thorin had announced that you all were leaving for a troll cave.

Gandalf had merged after Thorin with two swords , calling you and Bilbo over. Wow, free stuff. 

What Gandalf had not expected was your behaviour later on at Rivendell... Bathing and changing at Rivendell, eating some rabbit food, it was soon time for second dinner and after that bed.

Roaming the grounds of Rivendell the next month, you had bumped into Bilbo. That's when it started, you had already been messing with your sword. When Bilbo had approached you, seeing your cheeky grin he didn't know whether to run.

"M-morning ,miss y/n?" Speaking uncertain of himself, partly nervous,  you had been pretty unpredictable, you know falling out the sky?

"Morning ,Bilbo!  How are you feeling?"  Swinging your sword in like it was baton or baseball bat, almost dropping flat on your face.

"I'm fine , thank you. Uh..." The sword now between your legs, swinging it around. "Bilbo look, it's my cock." Bilbos face now red, your crude language tended to fluster the poor hobbit, sorry the rich hobbit.

"Miss y/n, I do not think that's quite appropriate.."   You head snapping towards the hobbit, your face dropped, instantly Bilbos mouth is gapped. "Oh- I didn't mean any offence." Taking a step forward, Bilbo had stepped back , another and another.

Bilbo had ended up sprinting , you chasing him, well until an elf had offered you pastry's. Continuing your walk around the grounds, munching on your pastry, distracted by your breakfast you didn't notice the dwarf in front of you until the last second. 

"Where's your trousers?!"  You had made eye contact with something other than his eyes, it was painfully obvious. Meeting his actual eyes, the smirk on his face, concluded that he had seen you check him out, flushed pink cheeks.

"Fili took my clothes."

"Why would he want to see you running around naked,-cover up gosh!" Your voice getting higher by the second.

"Well, my lady with what?" You had thrown your pastry at the dwarf, now quite put off; even though his size was quite large. Instead covering himself he began to eat the remaining amount of the pastry.

You had scoffed, walking around the dwarf, away from his naked body.

What did catch you off guard again was a  man popping out from a pillar , his longish hair blond, his eyes ocean blue, his beard trimmed, his shirt beige , with a brown leather belt around his waist. You didn't know how to describe it, you jumped when he spoke.

"Hello there," 

How could be here? In a land of dwarves, elves and wizards? It was Obi-wan Kenobi, surely he should've been in the high ground? I mean, chopping some legs...so Anakin is leg a less, because his legs Aragorn.

"General Kenobi!" Kili had to turned around, to see you running at a strange man, who was General Kenobi, turning back round he had stomped off back to the company... to gossip.

"What are you doing here, Obi-wan?" His arms held behind his back as you two walked through Rivendell together, the truth was that you had never met before.

"I'm here because of you, y/n...the Council has sent me to help you. The universe is in great danger, again."

Then, you found out your real purpose was in middle earth; to save the line of Durin, With Obi-wan Kenobi as your master you as the pad awan. However, of course you did not have the force, he was just going to teach you how not to be damsel in distress.

You didn't know how this would bring you so close to the Jedi knight..

Obi-wan, had hid until half a day from Rivendell, when you had gestured him to come out, Kili had let out the most over dramatic gasp possible. "I told you he was real!"

That definitely caught the attention of the whole company, stopping, turning , drawing there weapons, Fili pulling you out the way.

"Why are you following us?" Thorins voice boomed over the winds, you couldn't imagine how your eardrums would certainly burst if he had a microphone. Getting of the grips of the dwarves again, standing between Obi-wan and the axes of the company.

Little Bilbo just watched the slope of the mountain with amusement. "What are you doing, y/n?!"

"You stubborn dwarves, if I was walking with him with no fuse, you'd think that he was with me, he's here to help me." Kili had scoffed, nor did any of other dwarves look convinced, Obi-wans hands on his hips, puffing his chest, revealing his lightsaber.

"I've had enough, I don't care what you say Thorin, he is my protection, he's not taking any of the reward, now let's go, he is not the enemy." Maybe you told a small lie, it would not go down well if Thorin knew Obi-wan was there to protect him and his nephews.

"At the front, both of you, now." And you were walking again, you and Obi-wan at the front.

Though, all together you were from three different universes, you from one which starwars was just a set of films, and series. It felt weird. Knowing he died, old, and he didn't look himself.

"Wait, so, Qui-Gon basically died of STDs, because he so many that it slowed him down? I thought it was a rule not have attachments; but he could sleep around?" I mean, if that's the case... you are very handsome, I'm not the best looking, nor have I ever.."

Your face felt hot, that was more than light flirting, really you had only known him for 27 hours, your crush on him though, that developed from watching him on screen.

Now concentrating on where you were going, surprised when Obi-wan had let out a laugh.

"My lady, you must be mistaken, you are absolutely beautiful." Your face flushed pink, wrapping your arm around Obi-wan's arm, his eyes watched you as you did, not hilding hands or anything just his arm. There are times in life when words are not needed.

Soon enough it was time to stop, when the company approached a large path on the mountain, so big that the company could sit in a circle if they desired. Along the way many of the dwarves had collected sticks and branches for a fire.

Right against the mountain wall you had set up your bed roll, and dropped your cloak from the elves on it as a blanket, you were sure to remember to share with Obi-wan later.  Obi one had copied you, dropping his cloak neck to yours, as you both stood next to each other, the sky now dark, the smell of dinner lingered in the air.

The glow of the fire lit up Obi-wan's face, his beard now more orange, his blue eyes focused on you.

"Hey, um, Obi-wan...can I hold your lightsaber?"  His hands on his beige tunic, eyeing you down, one of a second, before handing you the weapon.

The lightsaber, heavy in your hands, yet still you were swinging it like you were playing tennis on the wii. "Um, Obi, can I please..?"  Turning to face the Jedi with pleading eyes, he just shrugged his shoulders casually nodding.

With that you had pressed the button, there stood the blue blade in front of your very eyes. Bilbo had noticed almost immediately spitting out his food, who in their right mind would give her a weapon?

Noticing Bilbos sudden uncomfortableness, grinning at him, as the saber made its way between your legs. "Hey Bilbo,Check out how big my dick is!" Bilbo had put his bowl of food down, and his behind Thorin, brooding.

"Uhm, lass? What is that?" Bofur wearily, spoke, eyeing the saber not blinking,like many other dwarves. Balin flinching as you waved it between your legs.

"It's a lightsaber, the weapon of Jedi's. Hey, Kili, sorta looks like your dick ,if it was a hundred times smaller. " Not that you were looking at Kili, his face flushed as he chocked out his stew, Thorins eyes burning into the back of the head, he would speak to him later.

"Oi, when did you get a look at Kees , lad?" Fili wan most  amused at the situation, Kili knocking him in the ribs.

"Well , what happened was I got a pastry at Rivendell, and Kili almost whacks into me. Yeah, and he was naked, so, not that I like to give away food, I throw the pastry at him and Obi-wan appears and saves me. End of story."

Now swinging the lightsaber like it was a golf club, you wondered if Obi-wan had to charge his lightsaber.  Kili now standing up , walking over to you as the dwarves forget about the story, simply because it wasn't rare that they went around naked. 

"Oi, Kili , throw that stick at me, so I can hit it." 

Kili had planned on telling you a piece of his mind, how his dick was not small, but there you were not a care in the world, waiting for him to pick up the stick.

His eyes searched the stone floor when his eyes catch, a thick stick not a twig. Without a thought he threw it, your eyes waiting, standing like you were going to play baseball or rounders. Swinging your arm slicing through the stick, causing it to slam to the floor in two separate pieces.

"I'm sorry, but what in middle earth is a Jedi and why do they have that, what even is that!"

Obi-wan just stood by you chest puffed, huge smirk on his face, as Kili ranted slightly , fear embedded in his eyes as he stood back as you swung the weapon around more, it was not surprising that the company were also in slight shock.

"This man is a Jedi." Pointing at Obi-wan before turning fully towards him, ignoring the others questions. "Okay, now teach me, master..." A grin across your face, as Obi-wan took the saber from your hands, turning it off, before standing behind you.

Turning your back into place, your feet in the correct stance, his back against yours as ushered you take your sword from his hands.  His hot breath briefly against your neck. Once you had done, his back peeled from yours, and he had done the same.

Throughout the next months, Obi-wan had continued to teach you how to defend yourself

, Kili always disagreeing on Obi-wand methods, suggesting he would be better to teacher you.

That was until you were all captured at Mirkwood. Of course, Obi-wan tried to use the force on the elves, however , due to being immortal they weren't easily controlled.  Somehow he did it still, only allowing you and him to escape, due to being human. What you didn't understand though, why was Obi-wan such a flirt.

The blond elf, the one that looked straight off like a princess, had stared at you and Obi-wan with his eyebrows raised. His light foot steps, couldn't be heard as he glided towards you both, standing close to Obi-wan, as the dwarves were search. Legolas excluding you two from it, using the side of your body to hide the lightsaber at Obi-wan's belt.

"Why are two humans travelling with dwarves?"   Was this elf wearing tights? David Bowie could get away with it because that ass and overall god looks, but the colour scheme on this blond elf was not it. Wondering if his dick could even breathe, maybe it shrank.

Looking at Obi-wan, who was smouldering at the elf, his lips slightly pushed out his blue eyes sharp, his long hair flowing. But..there was no wind. His hand doing a weird gesture like waving.

"We are not, we are trying to get lake town, as I have finally decided to meet my darlings parents. You will let us go." You were surprised when Obi-wan had wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close to him. Your eyes wide, you really didn't think you were going to get out of this, how many times had you all been captured? Too many times.

"Go, follow the path, goodbye." Obi-wan had quickly let go of your waist , talking your hand, pulling you away, false smiles on your faces as you left. Trying not raise suspicion, Kili had watched the whole thing, scoffing in disgust, watching you and Obi-wan walking away.

You wanted to help the dwarves you really did;but Obi-wan had assured you they didn't need your help. You both waiting in the safe forest outside of the woodland realm, waiting for the dwarves.

Not only had Obi-wan had taught you basic defensive skills, but you had became extremely close. Here you were, stuck in a forest, no bedrolls no nothing, due to Azog. Nights were cold, so cold, as Obi-wan's duty to protect you, you both decided for your survivals there was only one way.

The fire low, so that you would not be detected by Orcs, Obi-wan and you snuggling up together, his arms around your waist, knees tucked under yours. Body heat being the only thing from stopping you both freezing to death.

During this week, what disturbed you the most, was Obi-wan's french accent...Considering there was no earth in the star-wars universe. If that matter you weren't sure. He'd pop the accent out at random moments, going to bathe in a stream?

"Do you need a chaperone, mon amour?" No, he did not go in the water with you, he just stood guard, holding his arm out to walk you to the stream and even back. Though you did have to wait by the stream while he was bathing , with his lightsaber in your hand, just in case.

However,one day when you you were bathing Obi-wan had almost had a heart attack when you let a gasp, running out of the hair all across your face, running smack into him. Your bare body against his robes, soon as he made eye contact with you he knew it was nothing life threatening.

"When I said 'You don't have time to be timid, you must be bold and daring' this was not what I mean." Obi-wan's stuck to yours , reassuring your privacy, even though his back was against the mud , your whole body pressed against him. Again with the accent, Obi-wan's smile small, your hands against his chest, as laugh erupted from your mouth.

"What is, Ma Cherie?"

"Only reason I'm laying on you butt naked is because a fish brushed against my leg." Obi-wan's once sincere face replaced with a grin you snuffled your laughter against his neck. Your cold skin against his , as vibrations travelled through his body, a laugh from his lips travelling to your ears. A few minutes passed, with you just against Obi-wan as you laughed together.

"This would be very embarrassing ,if the company found us now."

"I'll close my eyes, and you can go get dressed,"

That was it with that, Obi wan would never disrespect your modesty, it is not like when Kili had shown off on purpose.

The next day, you had caught up with the company and an injured Kili. However, the french accent was not lost...

Kili's faced laced with sweat, as you and Obi-wan made your way to the compan, his eyes met yours. He felt relieved that you had came back, yet anger still bubbled down in inside.

"I thought ye had left us." Bofur popping up infront of you two, his eyebrow raise.

"No, figured from I heard about that king , it was not the best if he had got a hold of Y/n, it is my mission to protect y/n." Bofur , along with Gloin, Dori and few others nodded in agreement.

Your eyes drifting from Obi-wan's face, back to Kili, his thigh seeping with blood,you had grabbed Obi-wan by the hand pulling him over with you towards Kili. Obi-wan meeting your eyes once again, confused with your actions. "Obi.. help him."

Letting go of your hand, Obi-wan had brought his hand over the wound, Kili tried to protest, only to be shut down by Fili. Kili felt tugging on his skin, the pain slowly disappearing, a few seconds late Obi-wan had remove his hand, stood up, made his way back to you. "W-what? H-how did you?"

This is what you and Obi-wan were sent here to do, save the line of Durin. After that, not even seconds Bard had arrived, the company was on their way again, no delays, except being caught by the master, which kind of annoyed

Obi-wan, getting to be called that without being a Jedi , disgraceful.

After that, it was one more boat ride away, and climbing more mountains. Within three hours , you feet began to blister, the knocks harsh, you wondered how Bilbo could do it, he was a happy chappy. Obi-wan next to you, had immediately picked up on you change. His eyes caught onto yours like a magnet, within seconds you were on his shoulders, hanging. Just like Anakin had carried him unconscious, he could've carried you anyway way but he decided on potato sack really?

"B-Ben!" The little shriek had erupted from your mouth in surprise, in reality it sounded like he had just made you orgasm. Your face flushed, as Obi-wan grip tightened around your thigh. "Yes, Ma Cherie?" Again with Obi-wan doing the french accent, letting out a groan.

"Never mind." For the next three hours you are carried on Obi-wan's shoulders, you couldn't imagine how his back feels. There's no negotiating with the negotiator. Your stomach ached from just being on his back. You did get to sleep for a while, which was great.

“Obi, I can walk now." Your face next the side of his face, softly speaking to him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." With that you were back on the ground, walking with the rest of the company, though you didn't speak to many of the other dwarves much, you found yourself away from Obi-wan and in the company of Fili, who had left the company of his brother. Your conversation had started out normal, Fili telling you about the Elves, and Bilbo saving them.

"Are you courting the man?" Eyes widening at the dwarves words, it was no doubt that you had liked him watching him on screen, but no way he had made advances, had he? He could not, it's not the Jedi way. Why did he flirt with you all the time.  As you two grew close, you felt you chest tightening, you could feel that way. Just months ago you had felt the same for Kili, but then Obi-wan had appeared.

"No, why do you ask?"  Your face felt hot, unbearably hot, embarrassed that you had been clearly flirting back to Obi-wan.

"It's just that my brother... don't know if you have noticed he has been not himself, and well I think it's because of you and Obi-wan."  Fili whispered to you, you could barely hear him, but when you did make out what he was saying, why would Kili not himself because you and Obi-wan, had you offended him some how?

"What do you mean? Why would it be our fault?" It was not appropriate but a chuckle still left his lips, Fili could not understand how you could be so blind.

"You and Obi-wan flirt publicly a lot..." Then it hit you, the reason Kili could barely look at you anymore, you had not really ever have someone like you let alone possibly two.  Blush upon your cheeks, "Oh.."

"Now, you must understand, y/n , if you don't feel for him, you must put him down, do you love Obi-wan?"  Turning you face back to look at Obi-wan, who had been watching his steps, as he talked to Bilbo, who seemed to be deep into conversation. When Obi-wan's blue eyes had finally caught yours, his lips had turned up in a smile, before you turned back to the blond haired dwarf.

Fili's moustache braids jigging, as you all walked, waiting for your response.

"Jedi's aren't allowed attachments; it would never work out."

“Do you love him?” Repeating the same question, how could you know if you loved him, why would it matter it would never work out, Fili clearly didn’t want his brother heartbroken because you couldn’t decide.

“I d-don’t know, Fee,”

“Do you love Kili?”

“Really, Fili, I don’t know.”

Fili, had suggested to speak to Kili later, what if you only loved Obi-wan platonically?

Once Thorin had stopped the company for the night, and when the sky was dark. Only the glow of the fire upon your faces, Fili had left his brother on a log, making eye contact with you, gesturing for you to swap with him. Sitting upon the rough log, thighs touching, Kili had turned slightly jumping when realising it was you, his brown eyes now looking to yours with the flame of the fire reflected into them. His face with no expression at all, he didn’t even say anything to you. A string of pain, flowed through your heart, you hadn’t realised how you hadn’t spoken to Kili in months, properly anyways.

You had wrapped your arms around Kili neck, your cold flesh against Kili’s neck, as you pulled him into a tight hug, slowly he had accepted it. Wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply, his dark hair, tickling your neck.

“I’m sorry, Kili.” Pulling away, Kili brows scrunched together, his dark eyes searching your face, he thought he had done something wrong, and was going you space, also think mostly that you and Obi-wan were courting. However, Fili had informed him that you were not courting, he wished he could scold his older brother, for being nosy.

“W-why?” He had been jealous of your behaviour towards Obi-wan no doubt about that, but you shouldn’t have to apologise for his feelings, you could like anyone you wanted, you are beautiful, bodaciously so.

“Because I haven’t spoken to you for months, it’s not because I don’t like you, it’s just...you promise not to repeat this to anyone, especially your uncle?” Kili knew it, you didn’t like him, but his uncle? Yuck, he couldn’t be mean to you though, you were nothing but nice to him. Instead he just nodded, with a small smile.

“Thank you..the real reason why Obi-wan and I were sent here, well is to keep the line of Durin alive, must have a big effect on all the universes otherwise, two people from separate universes would not have been sent. So, we’ve been keeping this secret, it’s been hard, that’s why I spend so much time with Obi-wan.”

Kili’s eyes never left yours, as you spoke, taking a deep breath before you continued on, you were scared for the safety of your friends, Thorin didn’t care what you were doing , because you and Obi-wan were quiet and kept to yourselves, he saw how effective in battle Obi-wan was and didn’t complain. He needed the man power, there was no doubt about that.

“If I am totally honest, I do love Ben, and if he was allowed to be with me, I wouldn’t be with him, it’s not the way of the Jedi. He is my best friend, that is a gentleman, I’m sorry, but his back must’ve killed carrying me like a sack of potatoes. Plus, when we were waiting for you... I was having a bath, he was on guard and fish brush against me, I went running, fell flat on him, that was definitely not a pretty sight for hi-“

“You what?” Kili was scared to know what you were getting and frankly disturbed that Obi-wan had seen you vulnerable. You had reached and gripped his, large dwarven hand, tightly, rough, yet so warm...

“ Doesn’t matter, he was very respectful. Anyways, what I was getting at Kili, is that.. I c-can’t live within you...I love you, not platonically either, I understand if you don’t feel the same for me. I wouldn’t if I was you.” Before you could blink , his soft lips upon your, your hands in you his hair pulling him close, his hands back around his waist.

You finally felt certain of something.

Bonus:

Kili was not the slightest happy when you accidentally cut a lock of his hair off with the saber.

“Hey, Ben, can I cut your hair too?”

“Fuck off, I’m the only Jedi left with good hair, you touch it you’ll become a baked potato.”

“Okay I’m sorry!”

“mon Cherie , I could never harm you, for I love you like a dog.”

“Oi, stop flirting.” Kili had interrupted, petting his burnt detached hair.

“He just called me a dog, that’s not flirting,”

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Forty-Three

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: TW: Mention of past abuse!!! (It’s really graphic) Fluff and Smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Harry wanted to make more of an effort to have time with you in the morning. He missed you so much all day, and wanted to enjoy the few minutes with you before you had to leave for work, so Monday morning he got up to have breakfast with you. He made you both oatmeal.

“This so nice.” You say sitting next to him at your island. “Thank you sweetie.”

“Course.” He smiles sleepily at you.

“Harry…I was wondering if you had to work late tomorrow night?”

“Shouldn’t have to, love. Why?”

“Well, and feel free to say no, but I was sort of wondering if you’d want to see Dr. Mara with me tomorrow.” His eyes softens and he puts a hand over yours.

“Did I…do something wrong?”

“No! Oh my god, no not at all.” You smile reassuringly at him. “I have sort of come to realize I have a real communication problem. You’re not a mind reader, and I feel really bad about when I sort of snap at you when you ask me certain questions…like I expect you to just understand something. It’s not really fair of me. She actually suggested I bring you with me after what happened last week, and I’ve had some time to think it over, and I think it would really help. She knows everything about me so…maybe she can help me explain some things to you. She can also be a mediator if I start to get a little snippy.”

He knew this was a huge deal for you. Harry had been to therapy before, he knew it was an incredibly vulnerable thing to do.

“I’m there.”

“Really?”

“Of course! I’m…honored you’re asking.”

“I really am sorry for all the times I’ve just sort flown off the handle. My undergrad degree is in communication for fuck’s sake, I should really know better.” So that’s why she was so good at reading others and assessing situations, he thinks to himself.

“I thought your degree was in like film studies?”

“No, no. That was my minor. My major was Communication and Media studies.”

“Ohhh, that makes a lot more sense.” He laughs.

“I should really practice what I preach. I can always tell when other people don’t communicate well. Or honestly, I’m great with like workplace, interpersonal communication. But I guess in my relationships I struggle a little.”

“I don’t love when you blow up at me, but I understand it. I can’t imagine how scary it must feel to be triggered by something, and have all of that adrenaline running through you.”

“Don’t make excuses for me, please, it’s okay. I’ve been wrong a lot of the time, I can admit to that.” You finish up your oatmeal. “Mm, this was so good.” You look at your watch. “Shit, it’s my day to pick up coffee, I need to get going.” You give him a quick kiss. “Have a great day.”

“You too babe. You goin’ t’the gym tonight?”

“Yup, should be home around six.”

“Great.”

//

You get Niall his coffee, and discuss theories about You and set up certain days to watch it during your lunch breaks. Everything felt back to normal with him which you were thankful for. The last thing you needed was for your work environment to be stressful. Your classes were all signed up for, and you’d be starting your first one in just a couple of weeks.

A companywide email went out about your annual holiday party. You were always thankful your CEO had the party at the end of January to give everyone time to recover from the holidays themselves. It was at this swanky hotel, and there was a huge ballroom for dancing. The food was always exceptional too, not to mention an open bar.

You come home sweaty from the gym, excited to tell Harry about the upcoming party.

“Hey babe!” You say.

“Hey! Just got through the door myself, haven’t had a chance to make up dinner.”

“No worries, I can cook.” You shrug. “Mark your calendar for the second to last weekend in January, the company party has been announced!”

“Oh great! What hotel is it gonna be at?”

“The Boston Harbor Hotel, it’s so beautiful!” You open the fridge and pull out some cauliflower. “M’gonna make some buffalo cauliflower, that work for you?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Hmm, I’m gonnna have to go to Macy’s this weekend to get a dress.”

“Right, cause you don’t have enough in your closet.” He says playfully. You point your knife at him.

“You realize if I go shopping you get to watch me try on a bunch of different things right?”

“Ohh, okay, new dress it is.” He kisses your cheek as you prepare the rest of dinner.

“Your birthday is the weekend after that right?”

“Mhm.”

“I was thinking, if you wanted, we could go to a nice dinner.” He smiles at you.

“Just the two of us?”

“If that’s what you’d like.”

“I’d love nothin’ more.”

You toss the cauliflower into a bowl of your homemade buffalo sauce and toss it around. You pop them into the oven, and wait for them to crisp up a bit. You go to change out of your sweats and wrap your robe around your body. Harry’s sat as his desk. You go over to him and wrap your arms around him. He leans his head back to look at you.

“You know what this weekend is?”

“Hmmm.” He gives you a funny look. “What’s that love?”

“Five whole months together.” He tilts his head to kiss you.

“How lucky are we, hm?”

“So lucky.”

//

Harry meets you at Dr. Mara’s office after work. You were incredibly nervous, but happy he agreed to come with you. You had so much to get off your chest. He gives you a kiss when he meets you in the lobby, and holds your hand as you wait to be called in.

“Y/N?” Dr. Mara says, her smile deepens when she sees Harry with you. “Come on in. Is your friend joining us today?”

“Yes, Dr. Mara, this is my boyfriend Harry.”

“It’s so nice to meet you dear, I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” She shakes Harry’s hand.

“Same to you.”

You and Harry sit on the couch in her office.

“Harry, I’d like you just to observe for a bit. Y/N and I usually talk about our week, and anything positive that may have happened.”

“Sure.” You don’t let go of his hand.

“So, Y/N, how was your week, since I saw you last. You seem much calmer.”

“I am! Niall and I worked everything out. We’ve set up some new boundaries.”

“That’s very good.”

“Our CEO announced our annual holiday party.”

“Oh, you love that party.”

“I do! It’s so much fun. Harry’s coming with me this year.”

“That’s great. You must be excited to introduce him to so many people.”

“I am.” You look over at him. He smiles at you.

“Would you like to tell me why you’ve brought Harry with you today?”

Harry liked Dr. Mara. She reminded him of his mum. Her demeanor was calm, and her voice was quite soothing.

“Well, after what happened last week, I had a revelation that my boyfriend is not a mind reader.” You laugh. “I can’t expect him to understand why something may be upsetting me if I don’t fully explain everything first.”

“I see. And what would you like to explain to him today?”

“Why I don’t feel comfortable doing it from behind just yet.”

Harry chokes on the air in the room. You and Dr. Mara were both so calm about the subject. He didn’t realize you talked about the nitty gritty in here.

“Harry, are you uncomfortable with this conversation?” Dr. Mara asks. “It’s alright if you are, we can work our way up to this subject matter.”

“No, no, I just, um, didn’t realize we were going to be so…blunt.”

“I tell Dr. Mara everything, she knows a lot about…us.”

“This is a safe space Harry.” She says, giving him a reassuring smile. “Absolutely no judgement. These types of situations are sort of my specialty.”

“Alright.” He smiles back weakly. He looks over at you, and you squeeze his hand. Your heart was beating fast.

“Y/N, would you like to start?”

“Sure. So…I feel really bad for our fight last week. You really did ask me a simple question, and it triggered me. But I know I handled it immaturely. And then I just got more mad when you spoke with Niall about it.”

“Why does it bother you when Harry and Niall discuss these things?”

“Because even though they’re also best friends, and should be able to talk about their girlfriends, I just feel like if I don’t want to talk about something or if I’m not ready for Harry to know something, it shouldn’t be up to Niall to just tell him anyways. I feel like you two run off to each other sometimes, and it bothers me.” You say looking at him.

“I’m sorry…I can work on that.” You nod.

“Anyways, it was the third time you had brought it up, us doing it like that. And you sort of brought it up out of nowhere.”

“It had been on my mind.”

“Why?” He looks at you and then Dr. Mara, then back to you.

“Because…it feels good, and it’s a position I’d like to really do. And you hadn’t really given me a reason other than just shaking your head or saying no. I just wanted a little explanation. I know in the past I’ve told you that you didn’t need to explain things, but I was just very confused because we’ve done other things.” You nod.

“I see how that would have been confusing, and I should have just come right out and explained myself.” You take a deep breath. “Um…I’m going to tell you something…I’ve told you a little bit about what happened that night, but not the full story. If you’re okay with hearing it, I’d like to tell you.”

“I’m all ears.” You shift and let go of his hand. You twiddle your thumbs and look down to your lap.

“You both are doing great.” Dr. Mara says.

“So that night, Jake and I had only sort of made out up until that point. I didn’t want to have sex with him yet, but there were other things I wanted to do with him, that I would have been happy to do.” You close your eyes. “I can’t quite remember how it all escalated so quickly. I know he didn’t slip me anything.” You open your eyes back up, but keep them glued on your hands. “We had moved to the bed so we could kiss more comfortably. I was on top of him at first, and then he got on top of me, and pushed my dress up. Then he moved my underwear to the side and started touching me.” Harry’s jaw tenses, but his eyes remain soft. “I was fine with it, he was being gentle.” You look up at Dr. Mara, then back to your hands. You feel a tear go down your cheek. Harry grabs a tissue and hands it to you. “Like I said, I can’t remember how it escalated so quickly, but the next thing I knew, my face was being pushed in the mattress and he was just drilling it inside me. It hurt, a lot. He didn’t make sure I was wet enough for how hard he was going.” You shift, feeling uncomfortable from the memory. “He was pretty thick, so I knew I was tearing. Because he was being so forceful, I was too scared to fight back or tell him to get off me. I didn’t know what else he might do to hurt me. So I just let him do it.” Your voice cracks. “When he was done, it felt like a razer was being pulled out of me. I don’t know how he didn’t see the blood on his penis, there had to be a ton, there was enough between my legs and on the sheets.” Harry swallows hard, grabbing a tissue for himself to dab his eyes with. “When I think of doing it from that angle again, I just…” You take a deep breath. “I’m just automatically reminded of all of it.”

“The night we, um, you know when you let me?” His voice was hoarse, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“That was different, for whatever reason. You had taken your time with me, and I felt safe. I wanna work up to doing it, I really do. I’m just…I can’t not think about it.”

“I’m so sorry…” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I can’t imagine doing something like that to someone. I truly will never understand how people can be so cruel.” He looks at Dr. Mara. “There’s a question I’d like to ask, since we’re in a safe space. Somethin’ that’s been on my mind since you first told me everything.” He looks back at you.

“What babe?”

“Why…why didn’t you ever press charges?” Your eyes grow wide and your mouth drops open. “I’m not trying to shame you or anythin’, I just don’t understand.”

“I almost did, but I just wanted it all to go away.”

“Didn’t you ever think that he might do it to someone else?” Your body was starting to shake, and you felt your breathing start to move rapidly.

“I…I feel…” You couldn’t breathe.

“Shit. What should I do?” He looks at Dr. Mara.

“Y/N, get up and walk around, I’ll get you a paper bag.”

You get up and pace around the room quickly trying to calm your fight or flight. Dr. Mara hands you a paper bag to breathe in and out of. She rubs your back lightly.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No.” You say returning your breathing to a more normal pace. “No, it’s okay, it’s a valid question.” You sit back down. “I don’t have a good answer. I still have everything, the sheets, the outfit…it’s hidden in my storage unit. I think I just wanted to pretend like nothing happened, or that it wasn’t as serious. I didn’t really want to seek vengeance, but I see what you’re saying about him potentially hurting someone else. I was selfishly only thinking of myself.”

“You’re not selfish Y/N.” Dr. Mara interjects. “Everyone deals with these things differently, and it’s up to you at the end of the day.”

“Wouldn’t you encourage her to press charges though?”

“It’s not my job to tell her what to do. Forcing a victim to go through that trauma over and over again is a lot to ask.” Harry nods.

“Someday I might, but right now it’s just not something I want to do. I know it doesn’t make sense, Harry.”

“It doesn’t have to, it didn’t happen to me.” He clears his throat. “Not that everything needs to be about sex, but Dr. Mara, how would you suggest we proceed with all of this?”

“Well, that’s up to the two of you. Keep having this open communication with each other. Don’t be afraid to speak up. Y/N, we’ve talked about you trying small things when you feel comfortable doing so. The two of you could try getting into the position, but with no penetration. Little things like that.”

You look at Harry, and back to Dr. Mara.

“I have another suggestion, Harry I don’t think you need to come here every week with Y/N, just so she can still feel like she can talk about anything with me, but why don’t you come once a month or even every other month so we can have small check ins like this?”

“Yeah, I could do that. Is that something you’d want?” He asks you.

“Yes, definitely. This was really helpful.” You smile at the both of them.

//

When you get home later, Harry doesn’t let you out of his touch. Whether it was his hand needing to hold yours, or his arm being around you, he wasn’t to let go of you. Neither of you said much, nothing really needed to be said. He was still trying to process everything, you finally told him about that awful night. You both had gotten cozy into some pj’s, and he made some soup for dinner. You ate on the couch while the two of you watched TV. He kept a hand on your knee the entire time.

“Harry?”

“Yes, love?”

“Would you read to me for a while?”

“Like on the sofa?”

“Yeah, I could lay on your chest and get cozy. I wanna know what happens next and I don’t wanna be too tired for it.”

“Alright.” He smiles and gets up to retrieve his book and glasses from the bedroom.

Harry lays on the couch, resting against the armrest. You snuggle up to him, and pull the blanket from the back of the sofa over the both of you. He picks up where he left off, and reads the story to you. You close your eyes to imagine Eric and Jane. Two best friends. You’ve gotten to the part in the story where Eric realizes he has feelings for Jane, but he has no idea how she feels about him. He talks about wanting to be around her all the time, and anytime she’s near, his heart flutters.

“Harry?” You interrupt him.

“Hm?”

“How long have you been reading books like this for?” He shifts his glasses to the top of his head.

“God, for a long time. I never realized how much I liked them until uni though. I took this young adult literature class for an elective, and I loved like every book we read. The professor let us pick out a lot of our own to read as well, and I sort fell into this genre. I think I like them because you can just get so lost in these stories. They can get a bit steamy sometimes, but that’s not why I read ‘em. I could read about two people fallin’ in love over and over, and never get bored.”

“You’re so romantic.” You kiss his cheek. “It’s sweet.” His kisses the top of your head. “Please, continue.”

He chuckles and continues reading. The characters begin to have a fight over Jane’s son. Harry gets choked up when she tells Eric she needs to move because she can’t afford her apartment anymore. She tells him she’ll need to move in with her mother, who lives hours away. Eric offers to have them move in him, but she says no, and the fight just gets worse. Harry full on starts crying, and has to take his glasses off to rub his eyes.

“Are you alright? You’ve read this before baby.”

“I know.” He says through his tears. “This part just makes me so mad because if he just fuckin’ told her how he felt she’d stay because she loves him too.” He dog ear’s the page and takes a deep breath. “I need t’take a break, they’re both just so fuckin’ stupid. And her poor son, he looks at Eric like a father and like to rip the two of them apart? It’s fucked.”

The way Harry was getting worked up reminded you of how you cried over Max and Liz at the end of the first season of Roswell: New Mexico. You loved how sensitive he was, and how invested he was with his book. You take the book and his glasses from him, and rest them on the coffee table. You kiss him tenderly and wipe his tears away.

“I can’t wait to hear what happens next. I have a feeling they’ll work it out.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” You burst out laughing, and so does he.

“Did I tell you earlier how much I appreciate you coming to therapy tonight?”

“I was happy to go.”

“I love you so much, Harry.” You snuggle into him.

“I love you too, baby. You’re so strong and brave, I hope you know that.”

“I want you to know that I’m open to trying some different things. Not tonight, obviously, but I’m going to be less closed off when you suggest things.”

He holds her tight to him. He was impressed with her attitude change.

//

Harry tended to keep a cool exterior at work. He liked keeping his personal life private. He worked with mostly women and only one other guy. He wasn’t close with any of them, friendly enough though. He knew a couple of the interns had crushes on him. Sometimes he wished the magazine didn’t hire on so many college students. He didn’t pay them much attention, but he could always tell when they were watching him work.

He had a small office with a desk and decent size monitor so he could edit whatever pictures he needed to on the spot. He had a few photos in there, one of his mum and sister, and one of you. Actually two. He had one from your weekend away in New Hampshire, and one from England. He snapped a cute picture of you in your pj’s on Christmas morning. You’d probably kill him if you knew that was the picture he had of you on his desk. When he needed a smile or a good chuckle, he’d look over at it. Sometimes he’d find himself scrolling through Facebook or his camera roll to look at pictures of you. He hated how much he missed you during the day, but he couldn’t help it.

He was working at his desk, he looked over at one of the pictures of you and smiled. He really did think you were cute. There’s a knock on the outside of his door, pulling him from his distraction. He looks up to see one of the interns.

“Yeah?”

“Um, hi Mr. Styles-“

“You can call me Harry, I’ve told you, it’s not that formal of a place.”

“Right…sorry, um, Harry.”

“So, what’s up?”

“Oh, right…um, I was told to give these flash drives to you. These photos need touching up.” She continues to stand in the doorway.

“Okay, can you come hand them to me please?” She blushes and walks further into the office. He holds his hand out and she drops them into his palm. “Thanks.” He says without looking at her. She notices the photos of all the women on his desk.

“Are all those women related to you?”

“Hm?” She points to the pictures. “Oh, no.” He smirks. “Well, that’s my mum and sister, and then that’s my girlfriend.” He looks at the picture and smiles, then back to the intern. “I love her very much.”

“Oh…well…that’s nice.” She stands there awkwardly.

“Did you need anythin’ else?” He asks, putting his earbuds back in.

“Nope.” She walks out and goes to the other intern, defeated. “He has a girlfriend.”

“So, not like he’s married.”

“He looked at me and said he loved her very much.” She groans. “Who was I kidding, that’s the most he’s ever talked to me.” She looks back at him. “He’s so fucking hot, of course he has a girlfriend.”

“Did you see a picture of her?”

“Yeah, he has two on his desk.” She rolls her eyes.

“Was she pretty?”

“I didn’t get a good look.”

//

You got a call around 10:30 in the morning from the realtor. He let you know that you got approved for the apartment. You squealed and yelled and freaked out in your office. You didn’t want to just call Harry to tell him. The realtor gave you all the details you needed to move forward and you told him you’d call him back in a little while. You decided to do something you never did before: surprise Harry at his office.

You looked really good today. You had blown out your hair and added some curls on the ends. You were wearing a green short sleeve shirt and a black pencil skirt that came a few inches above the knee. You had black tights and heels on. You were wearing a white blazer as well. You grabbed your long jacket, and decided to take an early lunch to go surprise him with the good news. You grabbed your red lipstick that you knew he loved so much, and touched it up in the mirror in your car.

The building he worked in had the heat cranked up, probably to keep the plants from dying. You took your jacket off, and got into the elevator up to the studio. He had described the building enough times for you to know where to go.

When you walk in you see a young man sitting at a large desk. You smile at him and ask if Harry was in. He smiles and points to where Harry’s office was. It was set up so different from your office. There was a large open space and multiple set ups for photos to be taken. All of the office had glass windows. There were some other desks out in the open. You see two younger girls looking at you, their eyebrows raised. You turn and see Harry’s name on the outside window next to his open door. You run your hand over it and knock.

Harry was deep into his work. He figured it was just one of the girls hanging around his door again. You knocked a little louder.

“Excuse me, Mr. Styles?” He rolls his eyes and sighs, taking his earbuds back out. He gasps when he sees that it’s you.

“Oh my god.” He immediately perks up, and stands to greet you, wrapping his arms around you. The interns watch the whole thing. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Got a sec?” You say with a big smile on your face.

“Yeah! Come in, let me grab the door. Not that it makes for much privacy.” You watch him close it.

“I can see why you’re not able to have sex in here.” You smirk, and sit on his desk. He chuckles.

“You look really nice today.” He takes the end of your hair between two fingers.

“Thank you.” You blush.

//

“That has to be his girlfriend.” One of the girls says.

“Shh, I’m watching. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that guy smile so much.”

//

“So for real, what’s with you surprisin’ me?” He boops your nose.

“I got a call a little while ago.” You beam at him.

“Oh really?” You bite your bottom lip, and he can’t help but stare at your mouth. “Babe, you’re killin’ me.”

“We got the apartment!” You squeal jumping up and throwing your arms around him.

“What?!”

“The realtor called me earlier!”

He wraps his arms around you, lifts you up, and spins you around. He dips you slightly and kisses you, your hands go into his hair as he deepens the kiss, not caring who could see.

The girls who were watching the entire exchange have to pick their jaws up off the floor. The boy who works at the reception desk walks by them and sits on their desk.

“That’s the luckiest bitch I’ve ever seen.” He says to them.

You break the kiss as Harry sets you back up right. You giggle at his now red lips. You take your thumb and try to rub it off.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“S’okay, I really don’t care. So, what do we need to do next?”

“He said we can call him together after we both get home from work. I was just so excited, I didn’t want to just-“ Your eyes bug out and you snatch the picture of you in your pj’s from his desk. “Harry!” You whine. “Out of all the pictures we took that week, this is the one you choose?” You look down at it. “I look like such a dork.”

“No, you look so cute. It makes me smile every time I look at it.” He pouts. You roll your eyes and put the picture back on your desk. He grabs your face with his thumb and forefinger. “I really, really fucking hate it when you roll your eyes at me.” He says with a smile on his face. You bite your bottom lip.

“Harry.” You whisper. “We’re at your place of work.”

“And?” You were starting to sweat. You look down then back up at him through your lashes.

“We should, um, celebrate tonight.” You put your hand on his and slide it up to your mouth, giving his knuckles a kiss. “Don’t you think?”

“Great idea.” You look over your shoulder, and squint at the three younger people watching you. They all look in opposite directions.

“You really don’t have much privacy, do you?” You chuckle.

“Nope. I think all three of ‘em have a crush on me. He’s worked here the longest out of them, he’s the least annoying. The girls are interns from some college. They bother me all the time.”

“I don’t blame them.” You smirk.

“What?”

“Harry, if I was twenty years old, and I was working at a place where I had to be around a guy that looked like you all day, I’d bother you any chance I got.”

“That so?”

“Oh yeah, I’d be in here all the time like, Mr. Styles I got you a coffee, Mr. Styles you’re needed for a photo, Mr. Styles you are so funny.” You giggle as he shakes his head at you.

“That’s literally what they say to me, minus that I’m funny. I don’t think I’ve ever cracked a joke around them.”

“Really? I’m surprised, you’re a performer at heart.”

“Oh shut up.” He nudges you. “So you really came here cause ya just wanted to tell me in person.”

“Yes, you goober.”

“Ha!” He throws his head back as he laughs. “That is seriously my new favorite word. I’m not goober though, you’re goober.” There’s a sudden knock at his door. A woman with really short hair and a tattoo on the side of her neck and a hoop in her left nostril. Harry waves her in.

“Hey Harry.”

“Hi Mariah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N, she was just stoppin’ by quick.”

“No worries, hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.” You smile.

“I’m having trouble setting a shot up for one of my frames and I’m starting to get aggravated, do you have a minute to help me?”

“Course, give me two minutes.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, where did you get your nose pierced? I’ve always wanted one, but the place I’ve gotten my other piercings went out of business, and I can’t find any good places around here.”

“Oh! I went to the same place I got my tattoos. It’s this little place called Rob’s Ink. Ask for Andrew, he’s the best, made me feel totally relaxed.”

“And you didn’t have any issues after?”

“Not at all. I will say if you want a hoop, just make sure you get it pierced with a stud, the hoops heal weird.”

“Good to know, thanks.” You smile.

“What other piercings do you have?” You blush.

“Oh, just my, um, naval. Pretty basic.” Harry smirks.

“Cool, mine’s pierced too. So two minutes H?”

“Yup.” She gives you a small wave as she leaves.

“She seems nice.”

“Mariah? Yeah she’s cool. She’s been here about as long as I have. She’s the only one I don’t find to be a complete idiot.” He squints at your nose. “Do you really want your nose pierced?”

“Yeah! It’s becoming more acceptable at my work. I want a little hoop, I think it would look cute.”

“It would look hot.” You shake your head and smile.

“I better go so you can help her. I’ll see you tonight. Meet me at home so we can call the realtor and then we can go grab a bite?”

“Sounds good, love.” You give him a quick kiss, and leave his office. “I love you.” He says just as you walk out.

“I love you too.” You blow him a kiss, and he catches it, putting it in his pocket for later. Your heart flutters.

Harry walks over to the interns. The young man had gone back over to his desk. Harry places his palms on the desk and leans over.

“You girls enjoy the show?” They both blink at him as he smirks at them. “Maybe you both should find somethin’ t’work on.” He stands up straight and walks over to Mariah’s set up. They watch him walk away.

“He has to know the power he has.”

“Oh yeah, he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“What I would give to be the girl he was kissing, my god.”  

//

When you get back to work you tell Niall all about the apartment, and he hugs you. You couldn’t wait to get home so you and Harry could go over everything. He got home a few minutes after you. You both sit at island and call the realtor going over all the steps you’d need to take next. He said you’d be able to move in, in February.

“Harry I am so excited!!”

“Me too!” You both stand and hug each other.

“Okay, where do you wanna go to eat? I’ll bring my laptop and we can make a spreadsheet of our budget. I was almost thinking we should open a joint checking account that we could just both deposit into to pay the rent through automatic payments.” He had never seen you talk so…businessy.

“Um…sure, we could talk about all tha’.”

You grab your laptop and put it in its case. Harry grabs his keys and you both head out the door. You go to a local bar that had wifi. You sit on the same side of a booth so you both can add the numbers into a spreadsheet. You talk about the different banks that you go to, and research which one would be best for you both to open an account with. He was so impressed with you. Once you finish with all of the “adult” stuff, you start to sip on the drinks you ordered.

“So…we should probably tell our families soon, huh?” You say.

“Yeah, I’ll call mum tomorrow.” He smiles. “She’s gonna be thrilled, I know it.” He puts his hand over yours. “Do you want me to help tell your folks?”

“No…it’ll be alright. My mom will be fine with it. I’m sure she’s half expecting it anyways. Maybe I’ll drive in to see her Sunday.”

“I don’t mind going with you.”

“I should really tell her myself, but thank you sweetie.”

“What about your dad. I really don’t want him yellin’ at you. And this is somethin’ you should tell him in person. Do you want me to like ask him for his permission or whatever?” You laugh.

“No, he’s not like a super traditional guy. I mean Erica and Kyle (her brother, I never named him) both moved in with their significant others early on…well, not this early on. But…I’ve always been different from them. My dad doesn’t think I think everything through, but I do.” You kiss his cheek. “I’m not going to let him ruin this for us.”

“Anythin’ special you wanna do this weekend? Five months is a big deal ya know?” He smirks.

“I would love to spend all day Saturday with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

“In bed.”

//

Harry got you out of that bar and into the backseat of his car faster than you could count to five.

[goldeneyedgirl]

JALICEWEEK20 DAY 6

The Way of Things

JaliceWeek20 Day 6: Reincarnation

Notes: I... don’t know. It just sort of happened? This wrote itself. There were a few more lifetimes I thought about including (there was a Jessamine and Alice ‘life’ that I really wanted to include but it’ll be a standalone fic once I’ve done a bunch of research) but I think I’m happy with it? 

This was absolutely inspired by a gorgeous Thor fic I read a few years ago based in Norse mythology and the creation of Yggdrasil; if I can find it, I will absolutely link it because it was an incredible piece of writing. 

Also go me! I’m kind of getting a hang of writing sex adjacent scenes! I remember not being able to look directly at my cursor when I implied a blow job in Shadow to Light, I’m oddly proud!

Now, just the second part to Against a Wall. 

Word Count: 4,322

NSFW - not graphic but yeah. 

--

Soulmates are funny things. They do not start out existence together; they must find each other - it might take one life time, it might take ten. It is important they undergo this struggle; some souls are not meant for regeneration - they shine and burn out within a lifetime or two. But others get stronger, more powerful, during those early searching years.

And one they find one another, they are forever more entangled. The oldest and strongest eventually fuse, unable to be separated in life or death.

Of course, eventually they burn out. But not in a tragic way; more like in a way that is last page of a very good book; the wilting of a final flower in autumn; the way snow melts in early spring, with sense of peace and satisfaction, and utter tranquility. And as they dissolve into starlight and dust, they begin the cycle anew. It is neither good nor bad or anything in between.

It is simply the way of things.

—

When they meet the first time they are vampires in Dacia - the land that will become Romania. It is an era of indulgence for vampires in that region, and if any records had been kept, it would have declared nearly dangerous levels of changes.

She is Alis, a peasant girl changed by a careless vampire who fed and left her in a ditch. She’s a gentle beauty, with long dark hair, sharp and cunning eyes, and even after the change, her skin maintains a slightly golden tint of someone who spent their life in the sun.

He is Jesper, who mentions nothing of where he came from or what he was before he arrived to hover at the fringes of the Romanian court. He has a reputation in the court, with the ladies and the men both, and Alis is entirely aware and slightly amused by that. She catches his eye more than once, but is illusive like a quicksilver, unbent and unbowed.

Until she isn’t.

It’s been a good hunt, blood soaked through their clothes to their skin that they lick off each other in their frenzy, and she learns exactly how he developed such a reputation. He learns exactly what he was looking for as he finds himself skin to skin with the spirited girl that has always seen him coming before he could catch her. But he has her now, and he’s not letting go.

She doesn’t seem to mind. They become a common sight, as a pair, their hands constantly entangled. They are not at court to curry favour or power or anything more than their next meal, but their relationship is magnetic, and more than one jealous or yearning gaze falls upon them as he presses hot kisses to her neck as he ties a choker of sapphires or diamonds around her pale throat.

The Volturi attack a century or so later, and they stand with the Romanians, their leaders and their friends. He remembers thinking they cannot possibly fail; they are the side of the kings, of the angels. He remembers admiring her as they lined up; the way she had pinned her hair with the silver clasp he’d given her, the way her dress fit her and the smirk on her lips that promised something to look forward to in their personal victory celebrations.

They don’t survive. In the chaos of the battle, it is hard to say how they each fell - the Volturi take no prisoners anyway, so a quick death in battle is preferable to an execution. But they fall and they are burnt, and their ashes mingle in the purple-grey smoke that fills the field.

When Lord Aro finds a silver hair clasp discarded on the battlefield, still clinging to a clump of dark hair, he pockets it and later presents it to Sulpicia, polished to shine and on a bed of velvet. It is a curious and beautiful piece, the shape of a raven’s wing, and it quickly joins the Volturi’s treasury without a single thought given to its origins.

—

In whatever counts as the afterlife for souls and spirits, they reunite. It will take more than one life to work out their powers, the boundaries, of this resting place - how to shape it to their preferences, how to give themselves form. For now, it is just a long horizon of contrasting light, and they are little more than sentient energy, mingling and expressing regret and pain at the demise of the other, of relief of being reunited, of contentedness being once again with the other.

Time is not something that exists on this plane, and soon they learn how to change what is around them; a swathe of sandy beach that meets perfectly clear water, expansive grassy plains that fit between quiet, looming forests that are quiet and cool. They are no more fixed than any other aspect of this space, but it remains unexpectedly consistent.

Sometimes, there is a house. It’s immediate form never changes, but the outside facade does, as the lifetimes pass them by. Somethings a log cabin, other times an English cottage, or a farmhouse, or a bamboo hut. It is their every-changing, ever-evolving desires, a nod to their shared past and their hopes for the future. It is their reward, their sanctuary.  

They learn how to shape themselves as well. She fluctuates a little more than him, but she is always small, always naturally dark-haired, always cunning but sweet. He is always tall and always blonde and too charming for his own good, and sometimes not he is she, blonde and tall and could charm birds from the trees. It doesn’t matter either way; the small one greets them just the same, with enthusiasm and passion and sweet sadness at their demise but always joy at their return.

And that is where they are together until the next life.

—

The next life is simpler; a part of a nomadic tribe. She is married, in their customs, to him when she is little more than a child and he just barely a man. And despite how they were raised, he is kind and gentle to her and has no interest in her as a wife before she becomes a woman.

It is a hard year, a bad year, as they travel the mountains and ridges, the snow sharp against their faces. Few of the tribe have born children that year, and less still have lived through the winter; when food is so scarce, the dying are calmly let go so that the rest might survive. There is an undercurrent of resentment when he hoists his child-bride onto his back so that she might make the climb; that he, young and strong and likely to live long and hardy, gives his share of food and water to the bony waif he is bound to.

But she lives through that year, and the next. She lives enough years that they are both ready for her to become a wife, and everyone who scorned her frailness, her smallness, the waste of a strong husband on such a girl, is shocked when she conceives and carries his child so easily. First a son, then two daughters, all born close enough together that the old women of the tribe mutter.

The tribe becomes stronger, settles in one place for longer and longer periods of time - where food and water are plentiful and they are safe from predators and other threats.

She dies during her fourth pregnancy, slipping away in an ocean of blood no one could have prevented. Her eyes are wild and frightened, and he promises that he’ll watch over their children and see them safe, and weeps openly over her body and that of his second son.

He dies after his second daughter is married to a neighbouring tribe, to a boy who looks at her like she is a miracle, and he knows his job is done. The death is quiet, in the still of the night, in the shelter that he once shared with her. As he passes from the world, he remembers the nights when it was him and her amongst the furs, and then their children pressed between them, and then the  firm bulge of the child who would ultimately kill her. He holds no resentment for the cause of her death, just a faint and worn sadness, and as he drifts away, he is certain he can hear her laughing.

—

He is a soldier, to protect his family, for a cause he finds entirely repulsive. But he mouths the words and holds the gun, and does not recognise her when he is ordered to shoot. Why would he? They’ve never met. She dies in the mud, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because they end up naming him a traitor and he dies in prison heavy with regrets.

In their sanctuary, they reunite in silence, with sad eyes and gentle embraces. Whatever powers above govern creation, they still send the souls and soulmates to earth, to be swallowed up and spat back out by human machinations, human fears and flaws and greed.

It is simply the way of things.

—

She is a barefoot thief in the streets of Paris, dangerously fast, and subtle of hand. She tells no one her story, or at least, no one her truth. Ragged and smirking, people mistake her for a child, and so there is little trouble to be had - if she’s caught at all.

She runs into him, lounging in an alleyway, tricking lords and ladies out of coins wiht sleight of hand, and is delighted with their potential. She’s old enough to be charmed by sharp green eyes and a lazy grin, and young enough to contemplate the sheer levels of chaos they can cause.

They live like kings those next few years, pinching pearls and purses, watches and rubies, and living in an icy dormer room wearing stolen rings to convince others of things they’ll get around to eventually. It’s really not much - a narrow bed with wafer thin blankets and a shared pillow; water that runs cold and brown into a bucket; pigeons that nest in the rafters and shit all over their clothing.

Doesn’t seem to matter, though, when she welcomes his kiss and sleepily encourages him when he rolls on top of her during the late night hours, frost forming on the weave and weft of their clothes. When their work is good, he brings her flowers from the seller on the corner, and she tucks her pockets full of cakes for them to share, and really, neither could imagine a finer life than together in their little tower.

But time marches on, and soon they recognise that the tricks that have gotten them this far in life aren’t going to be overlooked forever. There are less nobles on the street, less coin and jewellery to be fleeced, and so they decide to leave for the country - he’s not afraid of dirty work, and she’s not afraid of anything.

The journey will be long, and she steals a book for him on their way - he’s determined to teach her to read. It’s a neat little Bible with a smart green cover with the name ‘C-a-r-l-i-s-l-e C-u-l-l-e-n’ written in neat script on the front page.

They settle in a village, where she becomes a laundress, then a seamstress, and he finds work with horses. They marry in the village parish, where the kind priest is happy to absolve them of the sin of living as man and wife before their vows, and keep their secret. They exchange stolen rings for ones of brass, from a jar the priest keeps for that purpose.

There’s a tiny two-room cottage they occupy; those early years of hunger and neglect have left their mark on them both, and so there are no children in this life. But there is an endless parade of animals that he brings home tucked under his jacket; wounded or lost or discarded, and she finds that she doesn’t so much mind waking up to a blind duck on their bed or a sickly fox on the pillow next to her, when he is always so pleased with their progress, with their improving health. He saves more than he loses, and he takes pride in that. Some are set free and returned to the wild, but others linger until they are something of a spectacle in town - the house with all the animals.

They live a long life, a good one, and it ends peacefully. They are buried side by side in the village cemetery, with wooden crosses that bare their names, and prayers muttered in their honour.

But one Carlisle Cullen never gets his Bible back.

—

The good lives give them less time together in the in-between, if such a thing could be accurately measured. They wade, knee-deep into that perfect ocean that stretches out to their infinite horizon, hand-in-hand, and then they both feel it; that fizzing, tingling feeling as whatever oversees them pulls them back; back into bodies and minds, back into lives and places, and they once again have to go through the push and pull of finding the other and crossing their fingers it’ll happen sooner rather than later.

As he becomes nothing again, he holds her smile tight in his mind with a prayer that this will be the time, this will be the life, that he’ll recognise her for who she is to him as soon as he sees her.

She hopes its a long life, a good one, with his hand in hers always.

—

He’s reborn in Texas in 1863 and dies nineteen years later, only to rise again.

She’s born in Mississippi in 1901 and dies nineteen years later, only to rise again.

They meet in 1948, and if he knew any better, he’d tease her about keeping him waiting for thirty-seven years, six months, and three weeks. But it will be a while more before they both remember things like that, so he can’t. Instead, he falls completely and utterly in love with her, in a way that echoes right back through to that very first meeting in Dacia.

He wonders if its possible to miss someone he’d never met before, when he takes her hand. She wonders if he’s going to disappear, to startle and panic about the future that lies before them and leave her behind.

He kisses her like a starving man, and she almost immediately drags him - a willing supplicant - into her bed because it doesn’t matter what life they’re living, she’s never been particularly subtle. He knows exactly what to do to make her scream indecently, and she puts her mouth to every single one of his scars, and he wishes he could weep - with relief and guilt and a million other things that are knotted up inside his head.

And she will untangle each and every single one with enough time.

They unknowingly draw from each of the lives that have come before - they are nomadic for more than two years, criss-crossing across the country. He is no less fixated on animals - as a human, it was the training of them; as a vampire, they are his salvation. Their hands are always entangled, their gazes always on the other.

This time, they find a family, and some quiet, subconscious little corner of her mind decides she likes that they aren’t alone this time. There’s a small joy in the memory of a ‘family’, and a warm feeling - one that she doesn’t know originated from a long-ago life where they were the ones welcoming new children into their heart and home, one she doesn’t quite recognise. But families are shaped so many different ways, and the Cullens are just another way to fit together, and so they stay.

It’s a good life, an untroubled life - at least until Edward gets tangled up with a human girl and the cursed Volturi. Somewhere, the great puppet master jerks the strings and decides that if history is so desperate to repeat itself, well, it might as well put on a show.

They escape the Volturi once (a flight to Italy to save an idiot brother), and twice (Renesmee shall live, Joham shall die, and Aro leaves without any new amusements and deeply, infinitely disappointed in his beloved Carlisle).

Third time’s a charm.

—

Aro’s great error shall go down in history as underestimating the damage he has done assembling his collection, the rage and resentment that boils like an undercurrent in the vampire world. He is not a beloved leader, but a feared one.

In truth, which will be lost to both time and the fact that the powers above don’t keep written or oral histories as humans comprehend them, his undoing is two things: the fact that in all things there must be balance.

And an ancient silver hair clasp shaped like a raven’s wing, that his Sulpicia wears in her hair as they arrive at the battlefield, cloaked and over-confident.

The battle is ugly and fatal and messy and all those things wars usually are, and there is no certainty in their victory, not with the wolves involved, with the shifters and the cryptids that have crawled out of every shadow and space to be done with Aro and Caius forever.

(Stefan and Vladimir are naive if they think they will fill the vacuum left behind in Aro’s wake; Jasper takes them both out quietly on the battlefield, when neither of them can call out the betrayal or identify their killer. Sometimes ugly things need to be done, and he’s not above getting his hands dirty.)

The battleground is smokey and even her supernatural eyes struggle to see through the gloam; her dead heart heavy as she looks for him. Voices call for help; for missing limbs, for injuries, for protection and she ignores each and every one.

She doesn’t know why she stops at the sight of a silver hair clasp, ancient and lost in the mud. Or why she reaches for her own hair, cut short.

Or why she picks it up and unlocks something inside her own mind. It is not an explosion of information, a supernova of memory. It is simply an intense awareness of who she is and who she was and who she will be. It is a confidence in her stride as she moves through the battlefield with a sense of self she has not known since before her home was known as ‘Romania’.

Jasper is bent and twisted, Rosalie limp on the ground, and those vicious, hideous twins hold them captive, like fish twitching on the line. Their deaths are not imminent, because who could take down the little vipers and stop their little game?

Jane’s head is off her body, and Alec’s too, before Jasper has shaken off the pain, expecting Peter or Maria or Emmett to have gotten a lucky shot and dismembered Aro’s little favourites.

Instead, it is his mud-streaked wife with a strange look in her eyes and emotions skittering over her skin like static. A battlefield is no place for a lover’s reunion, but she still bestows a kiss on his kneeling form (so ready for his own execution) that is so positively lascivious that it takes him a minute to remember himself.

And then he remembers himself.

The scales have been rebalanced, and the fight is won by a toss of a coin that finds Aro, Caius, and Marcus on their knees in the mud, waiting for their own trial. The oldest of the gathered line up - Carlisle, Amun, Maria, the Chinese coven - to pass their judgement, but the memories that press on both of them demand their pound of flesh, and Edward eyes them both uneasily.

Instead of violence, of sliding down a slope that turns them back into the monsters of old, into the truest of nightmares, Alice crouches in front of Aro with her wide dark gold eyes, and pulls the hair clasp from her pocket.

Aro’s rage is cold, at the few strands of Sulpicia’s hair that are still trapped in the metal, and if he could, he’d shred her to pieces in that moment, gift be damn. But she smiles sweetly, and strokes the etched feathers.

“Did you know?” she asks quietly, only loud enough for the fallen Volturi kings to hear, and Edward who hovers in case this spirals into a cataclysm, “When he gave me this, I mean?”

Aro stares at her, straining to touch her and understand, but his guard holds him tight and all he can do is sneer at her.

“The night before you brought your army,” Alice plucks the strawberry-blonde hairs from the fixture and tosses them into the mud. “He pinned this in my hair and we danced; we thought we’d win. And I suppose we did.”

Aro gapes at her, Caius is spitting curses, and Marcus is just pleading for his peaceful death - and how many lifetimes has he lived without Didyme, has he wanted to return to that in-between space?

She sees the scar on Esme’s face and finds it hard to care.

Edward is backing away in horror from whatever he sees in her mind, and Jasper is helping her stand, returning to their place amongst the very confused witnesses - what could the diminutive vampire say to the Lords of Volterra that would inspire such a response. The three are summarily executed without ceremony, and they are scattered over the fire without reverence.

Alice tosses the hair clasp in, too. It is better to be burnt to nothing, to be forgotten and buried by dirt and ash. It is too close to becoming a cursed object, one that will follow them, if they place too much belief and trust and hope into it. It has witnessed two downfalls, and it will never witness another.

He holds her tight in the aftermath, as they count their dead and make their plans. Edward is already whispering warnings into Carlisle’s ear, of the shape their thoughts and memories take. But they are family, and that comes before everything else.

(It’s not exactly their fault that Edward is a shiny new soul, and it’s going to take him a few lifetimes to understand what he’s seeing and hearing. Harder especially for him, with his gift so strong so early in the cycle. But everything happens for a reason.)

Despite the curiosity wafting off everyone, they say nothing and they go… well, not home, but to the closest residence, the headquarters of this war. A sprawling property with enough beds for the wounded, the wolves, and the lovers.

That’s where she makes good on her unspoken promises from eons again, of their private victory celebration. She sits astride him, her hips rolling hard against his, drawing out his groans and growls as he grips her thighs almost tight enough to crack. Their gazes are locked the entire time, her tongue skimming over her lips, as she lets her emotions tell him everything that she wants and everything she plans to take.

He remembers fucking her in the dirt in Dacia; his mouth between her legs as she hollered obscenities in a Paris attic; and the urgent, passionate loving-making of a marriage finally consummated.

She remembers bloody emeralds looped around her throat and resting between her breasts as she gets down on her knees and takes him into her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair; the delicious weight of him on top of her, their sweat mingling and cooling in the frozen night as their flimsy bed creaked against the wall; and his soft encouragement in her ear as he grasps her around the waist, their hands resting together on the gentle swell of her stomach.

It is times like this that their talents are burdens and gifts both because it is so much, so very much, and in all that passion and true love, there is also loss and regret.

But they have each other, and they will weather this new storm together.

—

They are hardly the only couple to spend the night tumbling together, but they must be the loudest, because when they reappear the next morning with darkened eyes and clean clothes, Jacob and Emmett are looking at Jasper with a new and very specific kind of respect, and if she flips both of them off behind Esme’s back, no one has any proof.

They don’t talk about what they’ve learnt, because it probably wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t matter, until the mantle of it settles upon you. And then it is everything.

Instead, they hunt. They have won the battle, won the war, and whilst rebuilding will take time, they can take this small moment to feast with their family and relish freedom from fear.

She truly doesn’t know what comes next. He truly doesn’t know if it will be good or bad. They will live this life for as long as it lasts, long may it last, surrounded by the people they love and trust.

And then they will die.

And then they will live again. Maybe they will live another ten lives, maybe another one hundred. Maybe one day they will cross paths with their family again, or they will choose to have children again. Maybe they will be long lives full of joy and laughter, maybe they will burn out fast and hard, but full of feeling.

But the thing they are now both and utterly certain of, above all else, is that they will walk each step hand-in-hand.

It is simply the way of things.

[starstruckteacup]

Cottagecore Films (pt. 5)

Whisper of the Heart (1995)

starring Honna Youko, Takahashi Issei, Kobayashi Keiju, Yamashita Yorie

Fourteen year old bookworm Tsukishima Shizuku has a goal of reading 20 books before school starts, but while she’s reading, she realizes that many of her books have the same name written on the library cards: Amasawa Seiji. She begins imagining who he might be, and evolves the idea into her potential prince charming. After school begins, she encounters a cat commuting on the train, and follows him to a quiet antique shop where she meets a kind elderly man, Nishi Shiro. She soon meets Nishi’s grandson, an aspiring violin maker, who she actually had an uncomfortable encounter with at school earlier on. The two of them become friends despite their differences, until Shizuku learns that his name is Amasawa Seiji, shattering her imaginary image of him. Despite her discomfort, they continue to bond and become close friends, even meeting at school, until Seiji has to leave for Italy for school. While he’s away, Shizuku vows to write a story for him to read upon his return, as an effort to become a better person and understand what she wants to do with her life. It’s a race to get her story onto paper before he returns, a race to plan for her future, and a race to understand what her true feelings are for Seiji before it becomes too late.

I have never seen a film capture the pure essence of middle schoolers like this one. It showed the discomfort of discovering love as young teenagers in a way that was realistic but wholesome and honest. Also if Shizuku wasn’t exactly how I was as a child I don’t know what to tell you. She had the unbridled determination and complete tunnel vision of a teenager who’s set her mind to something, and no amount of real-world obligations could deter her from her goal. Her imagination ran wild as she translated it to paper, and although she was proud for finishing it she was still unhappy with the ending, as any writer--especially a first time writer--would be on their first draft. The people she loved were real with her but encouraged her throughout, a fantastic representation of how blood family and found family can help form a young person’s character. 9/10

Matilda (1996)

starring Mara Wilson, Embeth Davidtz, Danny DeVito, Rhea Pearlman, Pam Ferris

Matilda is born to grouchy, rude, and dishonest parents, Harry and Zinnia Wormwood. They consistently neglect her as she grows up, so she learns how to care for herself early on. She develops a love for books and learning, and is thrilled when her parents finally allow her to begin school. However, the school she goes to is nothing like how she expected. Principal Trunchbull, a violent and hateful woman, runs the school through brutality and fear. On the other hand, Matilda’s teacher, the gentle and kind Miss Honey, teaches her children to love learning and supports each of them individually, creating a stark contrast of joy in her classroom to the terrifying rest of the school. Over time, Matilda learns that she has some unique powers, and begins using them to protect the people she loves and punish the people who abuse those around them. She creates her own form of justice for those who have never seen repercussions for their actions, and by the end her actions pave the way for a loving home.

I’ve watched this movie many times over the years, and I’ve loved it every time. It’s witty, sweet, entertaining, and endearing. The characters are very straightforwardly portrayed, and although they don’t necessarily have complexity, they don’t need it in a film like this. The main story is about Matilda growing and learning that she deserves to be happy despite the suffering she endured, and the film delivers on that perfectly. The characters are enjoyable--even the unlikable ones--and you can’t help but love to see Matilda exact retribution when the system can’t deliver it for her. Despite everything, she is still a kind and clever young girl, just as Miss Honey is a kind and empathetic woman, which are clear messages that I definitely needed as a child, and still smile upon as an adult. It’s a fantastic movie for all ages, and will always be worth the rewatch. 10/10

Mansfield Park (1999)

TW: detailed depictions of rape, abuse, and other violence toward people of color through drawings; slavery; racist language

starring Frances O’Connor, Hannah Taylor Gordon, Johnny Lee Miller, Alessandro Nivola, Embeth Davidtz, Harold Pinter, Victoria Hamilton, James Purefoy

Young Fanny Price, at age 10, is sent away from her impoverished family to live with her mother’s family, the Bertram’s, at Mansfield Park. There she meets Edmund, a boy of her own age and similar fascination with storytelling, and the two become best friends over the years. When Fanny reaches adulthood, Sir Thomas Bertrand and his eldest son move to Antigua, where the family maintains a plantation. Upon their departure, a new sibling duo, Henry and Mary Crawford, move into the parsonage nearby. Edmund quickly falls for Mary, and after a short bit of ingracious flirting on Henry’s part to one of Edmund’s sisters, he soon develops feelings for Fanny. When Fanny refuses his advances, however, Sir Thomas sends her back to live with her family, still stricken with poverty. However, Fanny doesn’t remain for long, when a family tragedy strikes Mansfield Park and she’s needed. There, she renews her friendship with Edmund, and several astonishing complications entwine their fates once more.

As with any Jane Austen story, I greatly enjoyed the characters. Fanny is incredibly headstrong and outspoken, but always uses it in the effort of kindness. I find Austen heroines to be excellent role models for young women, and that’s not the last time you’ll hear that from me, but this portrayal of the novel was particularly well acted. O’Connor’s portrayal of her is quick-tongued and cutting when she needs to be, but more importantly her voracity for life and love shines through in her acting. I found myself laughing at her witty comebacks to being slighted, and frustrated when her affections are unknowingly spurned time and again. Austen created a very empathetic and spirited character, but O’Connor expanded her into an even more relatable young woman. All of the acting was done very well, and the settings were both cozy and beautiful, even breathtaking at times. 

I do want to make a comment regarding the trigger warnings here, given their graphic nature and how they affect my review. While I do feel that the detail depicted and the length of the scene were egregious, especially because they are never brought up again as a topic of contention, the drawings themselves were very realistic to the times. However, they are burned and disregarded in the film, and the character seen committing the abuses (Sir Thomas) does not face any consequences for them. It is a skippable scene (beginning when Fanny is looking through young Tom’s sketchbook), if such violence causes you discomfort. I personally was very disturbed as a person of color, not so much by the drawings themselves, although they were deeply unsettling, but by how Sir Thomas is never held accountable. He decides to stop being a plantation owner and takes up selling tobacco, implying that he no longer participates in slavery, but he doesn’t face any kind of backlash for it, even from his abolitionist family members. He has a happily ever after that he doesn’t deserve, and I know that is more distressing to many of us. As such, I must advise that you gain nothing in particular by watching these scene, and will lose none of the plot by skipping over it. 8/10

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

[et-lesailes]

two artists

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 1707

prompt: “Hi! May I request a fix with Steve rogers where the reader is a writer & has a scar on the right side of her face (eyebrow till cheekbone, diagonal) & Steve keeps seeing her in a caffe & thinks she's gorgeous not even caring about the scar & sketches her & finally decides to ask her out when he sees her silently crying over her laptop because she just killed off 1 of her favourite characters? Maybe shes a but insecure too?Thank you so much!”

themes: just a quick little fluffy piece :)

taglist: @evanstush, @chibi-crazy, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester,  @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @mizariomi, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @marvelouspottering, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @peach-acid, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @danathewitchywoman, @denisemarieangelina, @mango--mango, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06​, @almost-had-the-stars, @sebastian-i-stan, @whysparker​

notes: i have removed a handful of people from my taglist due to lack of interaction with my fics, and will be removing more the next time i post based on how reaction with this fic goes. it takes a LONG time for me to manually tag every person so please understand that the least you can do is read my work and give it a like if you are asking to be on this taglist! anywho thanks to @allthefandomstogether​ for this lovely graphic!!

He comes to this cafe almost everyday, and each day he is almost sure to see you, much to his pleasure. 

To be fair, he started coming to this cafe far before you did. In the 1940s, to be exact. It is now run by the original owner’s granddaughter, and he is sometimes shocked when he sees the similarity between her features and her grandmother’s, though he keeps this to himself. He does not like to draw attention to the fact that he is Steve Rogers, Captain America. 

He sits at his regular table near the back and you sit at yours, also towards the back but on the other side of the room. He goes there to have some peace from the craziness that is the Avengers; he often brings a couple books, his sketchbook, and the iPod Touch Tony had gifted him when he had first come out of the ice. He can easily upgrade, but he has no desire to. He prefers being old fashioned, he hardly even likes using the complicated smartphone SHIELD has set him up with for missions. 

You only started coming a couple of weeks ago. He isn’t sure if you come every single day, but most of the days and times he is there, so are you. While he used to spend most of his time reading, he has found himself beginning to draw more and more. He used to draw quite a lot back in the old days; ever since becoming an Avenger, he simply did not have the time, and, quite frankly, the muse. Now, it is all coming back to him. He feels inspired upon your mere presence, and he simply has to draw everything he feels. At first, it is the items around you. He draws the latte you seem to favor, the journals you’re constantly writing in, the brown bag you keep your things in, even the sleek MacBook Air. Finally, he wholeheartedly accepts his creepiness and draws you. He can’t help it. You are incredibly intriguing to him, and not to mention beautiful. How could he not want your image displayed in the pages of his sketchbook? 

It is another day and he’s shading the delicate features of your face. He loves when you furrow your brow in concentration as you write, how your tongue even sometimes sticks out slightly. It’s adorable to him. 

His pencil begins to outline the thin scar across the right side of your face. He does not know how it got there, and while he is curious, he sees so much more to you than such a mark. All he can hope is that whatever happened, it is not bothering you anymore. He knows how mental scars hurt just as much as physical ones, probably even more. God knows he’s collected quite a few over his century of living.

He also wonders what it is you’re writing over there all the time. Is it a story? A memoir? A journal? He wants to read all of it, at the risk of sounding like some kind of creep. Perhaps he’s already too far in to be worrying about that, though. 

He’s so absorbed in his drawing he almost does not notice your change in expression. It is when you momentarily cover your face with your hands that he frowns, looking to you as if you will somehow understand through telepathy that he never wants you covering up that beautiful face. However, once you remove your hands, he widens his eyes as he sees tears running down your cheeks. You sniff and rub them away, taking a deep breath before returning to typing away on your laptop. He has no idea what to do, but he knows he has to do something. The thought of you being in any type of pain is breaking his heart. What is wrong with him? He doesn’t even know you.

He stands up rather abruptly, causing the people at the tables around him to give him an odd look. He avoids eye contact, adjusting his baseball cap. He finds his legs walking towards you, no plan of action in his normally calculative, strategic mind. He is standing before you now and the presence causes you to look up.

The eye contact almost blows him away. Your eyes are wide and slightly wet, making even your pupils glisten slightly. He’s never met anyone who looks pretty while crying, God knows he certainly isn’t. “Are you okay?” he asks somewhat suddenly and awkwardly, and you blink- he stares at your eyelashes wondering how such a small part of your face can look so beautiful to him. “Y-yeah, I’m okay,” you say with a sad smile, even chuckling slightly. He decides he wants to hear your real laugh as soon as he possibly can. “I didn’t know anyone saw me, that’s embarrassing.” You look away now and he frowns. He wants you to look at him. “Do you maybe want to talk about it?” he offers, hoping he doesn’t seem like some nosy freak. You wipe at your eyes again and he notices you’re still looking away. “Oh, it’s really not that deep,” you assure him, still laughing awkwardly. “I- I’m a writer, see, and I’ve been working on this story for a while, and--” you pause, taking a deep breath, “--it’s stupid, really, but I just killed off one of my favorite characters, and I’m just… sad now. I got too attached.” You rub the back of your neck, looking down at your keyboard. “Silly, isn’t it?”

He’s never been more enamored. 

He chuckles softly and shakes his head. “No. Not at all. Writing is a form of art, and art…” he hums thoughtfully before continuing, “art evokes strong emotions. Even if you’re the one creating it.” He remembers rather morbid sketches he drew after Bucky’s death. Sure, he could have drawn something happier to help him feel better, but it was more important to let his grief and emotions out rather than pretend everything was okay. You look up at him again and he instantly takes advantage of the returned eye contact, studying yours as his smile barely grows. “Honestly, you’re the only person I’ve met who responded like that,” you tell him softly, your voice somewhat shy. “Everyone else would just tease me, tell me that I’m the one writing it so I can just change it. But it’s not like that, you know?” He immediately nods, smiling wider. “I completely understand. Sometimes the happy ending… isn’t always the right ending.”

You look up at him for a few moments before realizing this eye contact is too intense, naturally shying away again as you look back down at your laptop. You have good and bad days when it comes to your self esteem, especially with the thin scar running across your face, and it’s safe to say you’re feeling significantly more insecure sitting before such a handsome man like him. He frowns slightly and clears his throat, gesturing to the empty seat across from yours. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” You blink and barely gaze up at him, hoping you don’t look as nervous as you feel. “Um, yeah, sure, go ahead…” He smiles, clearly happy as he sits down, and you feel even more shy now that he’s right in front of you. “My name’s Steve, by the way. Could I know your name?”

You blink, everything suddenly clicking. He had seemed familiar but you had brushed it off-- considering how outrageously handsome he was, you had assumed you had seen a similar face in a damn magazine or TV show or something. Upon hearing his name, however, you now realize just exactly who this is, and now you’re even more confused as to why he’s sitting with you. “Y/N,” you introduce yourself nonetheless with a small smile, looking at him somewhat curiously. “Not to be rude or anything but-- why exactly do you want to sit with me?” He chuckles, finding you adorable already. “If we’re being honest, I’ve seen you here a few times, and I’ve always wanted to come talk to you.” You blink and glance down as you barely play with a strand of your hair, anything to keep your awkward hands occupied. “Me…?” He chuckles, barely biting on his lower lip. “Yeah, you. Is that so hard to believe? I was actually kind of hoping I could ask you out on a date. Get to know you better.” He’s a little surprised with himself; for someone so sculpted and “perfect”, he’s never really been quite smooth with the ladies. Perhaps he wants to be more confident to help draw out your own confidence. 

“A date?” you repeat, practically bewildered. Is this some type of prank? No, Steve Rogers would never do something like that. As you look up into his eyes, all you see is hope, sincerity, and a kind, friendly twinkle. You quickly look back down. He’s being serious. “I-- um, I haven’t been on a date in… a really long time…”

“So what better time to start than now?” He grins, cocking his head to one side. “Please? Just one, and if you hate it you never have to talk to me again. Though I’d be really, really sad if that happened.” You can’t help but giggle softly, looking up at him again. This time, you actually maintain eye contact for more than five seconds. “I doubt I would hate it.” You respond, surprised that you’re actually beginning to flirt a little. “Alright. Here’s my number.” He playfully pumps his fist in a triumphant movement as you scribble your number out on a piece of paper, handing it to him. “Thank you. I can’t wait.” He feels his work phone buzz in his pocket and he sighs. “Though right now, duty calls. I’ll call you later tonight, alright?”

You watch in somewhat of a daze as the muscular superhero stands up, taking out some hi-tech device you wonder if he even fully knows how to operate. Probably something invented by Tony Stark. “Alright,” you manage to say, nodding your head and even giving him a little smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”