#and that would make him sad already but he'd also get reminded of rose

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

They had to kill Ricky September because he would've been smart enough to go with the doctor, and then he'd have stayed as a companion, and the doctor couldn't have handled having a friend who's actually called Ricky AND who he doesn't think is an idiot

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[harzilla]

So I love me some romance but I also love platonic love. Like you can love somebody but not BE in love with them. I just like watching friends willing to be petty for you. Cause you know they would.

I was thinking about this with the house wardens/dorm leaders and thought of an idea. Somebody decides to pull a prank. Maybe it's done because they're trying to be funny or maybe it's done to be vindictive.

But imagine one day you find what appears to be some kind of gift with a love note. Could have been stuck in your desk or left on the doorstep of ramshackle. Wherever you find it, it's clearly labeled for you. You read the note and it appears to be a love confession from one of the dorm leaders! Even apparently signed by them. Except you immediately clock that the love confession is a load of bull. Because one. You happen to be friends with said dorm leader and he's never shown any romantic behavior towards you and two... This letter and gift? Absolutely something they'd never do. Whoever tried did a pretty poor job of imitating them.

Riddle? Letter doesn't sound like he wrote it at all. He has an extremely polite and carefully worded ways to write and y'all know that's not how the queen of hearts rules dictate how to confess your feelings! How could somebody not give you the proper 16 roses per rule #41 of "The Queen's rulebook of traditional romanticism, courting, and all things hat making" revised edition #2. Showing Riddle and he's more upset then you are! How dare somebody pull such a tasteless prank, what disrespect towards you and him! You're not actually hurt by it but you still appreciate his concern. Afterwards he offers to burn it for you, but you end up showing Ace and Deuce and the three of you spend the evening mocking whoever tried to prank you while enjoying a leftover tart while Riddle is looking into how to discipline the perpetrator.

They really thought they could try to make you think Leona would write something so sappy? What are they, stupid? The lion rolling his eyes before dusting the stupid fake love note with his UM after reading just one paragraph because, God it's written so badly he's almost offended by reading such garbage. You want him to dust the flowers for you as well? If not you can go dump them in the dorm's kitchen trash. Don't be surprised if you find out later that Ruggie pranked the perp because Leona was irritated by the ass who pulled him in this.

Azul, who you already know he ain't interested in love. You know full well if he was interested he'd have planned something better then this, you know how much he calculates and plans things. So you end up showing Azul the love letter and of course he didn't write it. Floyd and Jade who end up in the office and of course they're going to tease. "Oh Azul, you suuurreee you don't have a crush on shrimpy?" Jade and Floyd who grab the letter and Floyd starts reading it out loud. The two really getting into the dramatic flare. Floyd who throws himself on the couch as he declares his "love as deep as the sea" ohh whooo is he! Won't you take pity on this sad eels heart? You and Azul who end up both laughing afterwards. Don't be surprised if you notice Jade or Floyd seem to be really interested in a certain student these days, I wonder why?

You really think Kalim of all people would confess with a letter? Does the prankster know Kalim at all? Kalim, who offered you a 15,000 madol carpet for free the other day because he thought the color reminded him of Grim's ears? That Kalim? He's not sure why somebody would pull this as a prank, but your feelings aren't hurt are they? Please talk Kalim down from offering you a shiny new piece or jewelry or trinket to cheer you up. He'll give you something much nicer so you'll feel happy every time you see it.

Is the person trying to prank you trying to humiliate you by using Vil? The guy is already used to being typecast as a villain and somebody tried to use him to hurt you. Well, congrats because they just activated Vil's petty diva mode. The guy knows how to work social media and he's gonna be vague posting just enough that his fans will know what he's posting about and it'd be absolute social destruction if the prankster is ever stupid enough to admit what they did.

Welp. The prankster is getting doxed. The Shrouds can be pretty damn petty when they want to and Idia is no exception. First Idia's shocked, you don't think he wrote it right? No? Ohh good. Because he'd never write something that cringe and why would he write it on a letter when email or text would be just as good? Not that he would though! The perp can run but he can't hide because this amateur thinks he can try some weak prank? You got a genius like him and one of the most powerful AI's in the world via Ortho as friends. Give them an hour at most and the perp and every embarrassing thing they can find about him is going to blasted over every digital screen in NRC.

Oh dear oh dear. They really didn't think this through before trying to use Malleus in a prank? Another one you have to calm down. He doesn't like the idea of your feelings be used for another's amusement at all. You're thankfully he doesn't seem to be angry but then you recognize that look and ohh, "No Malleus I'd rather you not curse whoever tried to prank me. Please don't turn them into a slug." He might pout about it afterwards though. Revenge comes later in the form of Sebek. You don't have to say a thing because everybody will find out somebody was stupid and pathetic enough to try to use Malleus Draconia of all people in a mean spirited prank. Congrats, hope the perp looks forward to the paranoia of what Malleus will do to them if they're ever caught.

[phantasmalnightmare]

Gundham didn't think the movie could be that bad, so he went along with it after Sonia's assurances that she would be fine. She was fine, despite the fact that he could tell certain scenes reminded her of her past: When she was a Princess forced to endure a life that he couldn't even begin to fathom. Growing up impoverished instead, he could relate more to Jack, though he knew he was nowhere near as charming and confident as the other man was. However, he too had fallen for the rich girl way out of his league: A fact made only clearer by the way his heart picked up it's rapid beat when he took her hand.

Giving her comfort was an excuse. The main reason he did it was because he wanted to do so. Instead of the gesture soothing her though, it seemed to make her look a bit more sad if anything. He had a feeling that something reminded her of their past, as most things did. It was impossible to forget what they'd done, who they had been, even in quiet moments such as this one. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze in reassurance, despite the fact that a large part of him worried that her mood had soured simply because it was him touching her, instead.

The breeder's cheeks turned a deep red as the former Princess spoke so candidly about the sex scene. She said the word so easily, that he began to choke on a popcorn kernel. It wasn't as if he was a virgin, and he knew he shouldn't be as flustered as he was. As the Ultimate Despair, he'd taken what he'd wanted from a few women, but he'd felt nothing from the experience. The concept of intimacy with love was foreign to him, even though he knew that's how it was supposed to be. With Sonia, it was different. It felt new, and it scared him. "I suppose when you put it that way.. Perhaps such a gesture can be a beautiful thing after all. Although.. I do believe you may have just spoiled the ending." He chuckled softly, anything to get off of the subject of sexual intimacy.

He didn't have to try too hard to change the subject, because the film soon took a dark turn. As Rose and Jack tried to escape the devastation, his grip tightened a bit upon Sonia's. Even though he now knew that Jack would not make it out of this alive, he somehow wished that Sonia was mistaken, and that the pair could be together, happily ever after. He knew it was simply wishful thinking though, as Jack got quiet after awhile. "Is... is there not room for both of them on that plank?" It was too late for the poor man though, as Rose shook him, crying. Well, he sure picked a depressing movie. Probably not the best way to uplift their moods...

"I..." He stammered. He had seen the cover and the two embracing, and now it seemed incredibly obvious. "I believed it to be a woman and her familiar, or perhaps a brother..?" He certainly hadn't expected it to turn out like this, and he felt a bit overwhelmed. He endured the sorrow for Rose and Jack, the yearning he had to act on his own feelings, and the noticeable lack of warmth now that he'd unfastened his hand from Sonia's. He was glad when she began to talk of the production of the movie, holding on to her words as if they were a life line, despite not knowing much about the subject himself. "I see... So everything was not simply an illusion. That is quite impressive... There was not much of that so called CGI back then after all. Kehehe.."

Gundham collected his own trash, and he also dumped it into the can near the exit. Following her outside, he was surprised to find it was already quite dark out. Time had flown by while he'd sat next to her, enjoying the movie and the feel of her soft skin. "I do not think that you are taking it lightly. I find it inspiring that you are so knowledgeable about the makings of films... I myself do not know much on the subject. I can tell you are passionate about it though, so please do not hold back." He simply enjoyed listening to her speak of a subject that she found fascinating.

"I.. did not intend to select a romance." His cheeks pinked once more. "I am glad you find them more refreshing though. However... That one seemed to be quite devastating to me." He was worried that he'd selected a movie that would cause her mood to plummet, so he felt relieved that it didn't seem to do so. Perhaps, he couldn't say the same about his own mood though. "I do enjoy a good tome now and again to distract myself from those thoughts." He agreed. "What kind of novels do you enjoy?"

He made simple small talk as they walked, and all too soon they made it back to the hotel area. He didn't want the night to end yet, and all they had eaten was popcorn. "Would you care to accompany me to the dining establishment?" The hotel restaurant was nearby. He wasn't sure if there was food at this time of night, but that wouldn't be a problem. "If dinner hours are over, I may be able to create something for the two of us." Of course, it would be nowhere near Teruteru's level of cuisine, but Gundham was a pretty good self-taught chef.

"It is fine," She told him dismissively as she'd threaded the film. "It will be fine for me, in any case. I have seen it before, though if it is a concern to you we can change the film selection to something else." An offer Gundham didn't take her up on. Perhaps it was out of pride, or perhaps it was out of ignorance of having never seen the film before. Even the trailers were new to him, though Sonia, perhaps having been the most sheltered of them all once upon a time, gave him a bewildered expression at his apparent unfamiliarity with the film Jurassic Park. She'd seen it so many times that she hoped life would, uh, find a way to get her to Universal Studios to ride the water raft-based roller coaster featured in their theme parks. Before The Tragedy unfolded, anyway.

Besides, she didn't need to be reminded of past horrors she wanted to experience but never did. Not when she was currently reminded of past horrors she'd lived through: the film touched upon them in the best way it could, but it was nothing compared to enduring it day by day: the constant rules, reminders of how every choice she made, from the food she ate to the conversations she engaged in to the man she'd eventually need to marry, reflected upon the Royal Family and Novoselic as a whole. Impeccable perfection, refined yet discreet, was to be her forever goal in life. Now, so many of those pillars of society had crumbled under the Remnants of Despair, and she was left to pick up the pieces of her own destruction. "A-as I said before," She replied quietly as Ruth cupped her daughter's face, turning her back around to finish lacing her into her undergarments. "I will be fine. It simply reminds me of my past, that is all."

The romance onscreen blossomed, as did Gundham's courage: that, or simply a desire to be reassured he wasn't alone. That was Sonia's conclusion when she felt his hand, larger and rougher than her own and littered with scars, some familiar and some new, resting atop her own. Even as a Remnant of Despair, proper beauty upkeep, hand cream included, had been stressed to Sonia by Junko herself: what use was a queen if she'd lost her beauty? Only the most beautiful of girls could adequately dispense despair, she'd told her once, stomping on hearts literally and figuratively at the same time. A memory she didn't need, she thought as she shook her head. Soon to be replaced by something new: the feeling of his fingers entwining through her own and giving her a gentle squeeze. No cruel words, no rigid expectations: just the warmth of a familiar touch and the way Sonia's heart beat a little faster, and it had nothing to do with the bow of the ship at sunset.

Sonia knew the scene was coming, starting with a portrait and ending with an iceberg. Glancing over at Gundham, it hadn't been Rose's nudity that had sufficiently unnerved him, it had been Rose losing her virginity in the back of a car. "You do not think it was appropriate that they were given a moment of sexual intimacy before disaster strikes?" She asked, unable to keep her lips from curling into a teasing smile. As much as she could manage now, anyway: jokes and humor still came with difficulty for all of the former Remnants of Despair, it seemed. There was precious little to laugh about, not when they'd caused so much suffering. "If this is all to turn out poorly, considering Rose has taken 'Calvert' as a surname in the future, then it should be a kindness to allow her to experience sexual pleasure with someone she loves. At least once in her life."

It was the last chance she'd have at amusement during the film anyway: jokes would be far behind them as the iceberg and subsequent devastation ravaged the ship: souls who accepted their deaths, people who did not, and some, like the musicians, who simply tried to make the best of the little time they had left and bring some comfort to the situation they were facing. "You did not realize we were getting a romance and a disaster film all in one?" She asked as the credits rolled. Their hands both now freed, she was able to gather up the trash from their snacks to deposit into the wastebasket. "Goodness, I thought the cover of the film case was proof enough of that!" She chuckled, shaking her head as she led the way out of the row. "I remember reading that the filmmakers' greatest expense was building a tank that held over a million liters of water in order to film the sinking scenes on a proper film set. And that they had one chance and one chance only to film the destruction of the grand staircase: the set would be ruined afterwards."

The trash collection would come the next day, so she didn't hesitate to simply toss the wrappers and leave them there, in the bin in the theater lobby. But her amusement had faded as they stepped back into the artificial light: by the time they'd finished, it had grown dark outside. And she hadn't taken into account that seeing a disaster recreated on-screen might affect him far more than it did her. "I should not address the sinking so lightly," She told him ruefully, "It is just...with films like this, or horror films, I used to adore understanding how it all worked. How special effects and sets and costumes and music...everything, really, were utilized in tandem to bring a story to life. Whether fictionalized entirely or based on true events. Some of them I can no longer stomach now, like horror films, but something with a romantic element...I find them more palatable and less depressing. We all find different ways to cope with what we experienced, I think: films and books that distract me...well, that helps me."

[wonderlandleighleigh]

“Because you being here hurts! It hurts so fucking much!” If you wouldn't mind <3

(a continuation of the subway fic from earlier)

(TW for brief mentions of sexual abuse)

The words play over and over in her head, and she's not sure what to do with them as she washes the dishes in Lenny's kitchen. They don't need cleaning. He already washed them yesterday, but she can't sleep, and she doesn't want to wake him up (he's not a great sleeper. She wants him to rest when he can).

But it's hard to get Joel's words from dinner at Moishe and Shirley's dinner that night out of her head.

She's been playing them over and over and over again. On the walk to the subway. On the train coming home. On the walk to Lenny's place. As she got ready for bed that night.

Lenny had offered to try and take her mind off of things, but she's just too in her own head for sex. She knows it's a nice distraction, but she just feels...

Midge isn't sure. Unworthy of it, maybe? Like being the cause of someone else's pain makes her undeserving of that level of affection. And Lenny hadn't fought her on it or tried to convince her. Just kissed her gently and left her to finish getting ready for bed.

And that's another thing she's not used to. If she wasn't in the mood with Joel, he'd eventually get his way one way or another. Either by verbally pushing or...

She shuts down thoughts of nights where she'd wake out of the dead sleep to find her husband taking what he wanted. Telling her how good she felt. How much he loved her. Claiming to know she wanted it too.

Because it's always been about what Joel wants, and Midge knows hat now. She knows that her entire life revolved around what Joel wanted, and her own well-being and wants and needs be damned. All the times she was sick and he never noticed. All the times she was sad and he never caught on. Or frustrated, or angry about something. All the times she did everything and he would snap at her. All the times it was never enough and so she made it enough.

But just the sight of her - just her being in the same room a the same family dinner - hurts Joel. As if he wasn't the one who blew up their marriage in the first place.

Never mind how hard it's been to get over her own hurt in the last few years. Never mind swallowing the pain of being cheated on and left, and then jerked around by him, and then jerking him around (that's on her. It is. She shouldn't have).

Never mind.

"Never mind," she mutters to herself. And it's only then that she realizes she's crying over the clean dishes.

"Midge?"

She takes a breath but doesn't turn to face Lenny. "It's fine. I'm almost done."

"The dishes were clean, Sweetheart," he reminds her. "What's wrong?"

She wipes her eyes and turns to him slowly, shrugging helplessly. "Do you ever just- wish you could fucking disappear? Change your name. Move away. Be someone completely different just so the person who continuously hurts you can't do that anymore?"

Lenny walks over to her slowly, taking her hands. "Once or twice. Go back to being Leonard Schneider. Buy a farm upstate. Raise goats or some shit."

Midge huffs out a teary laugh. "Really? Buy a farm?"

"Sure. It's nice to grow things," Lenny shrugs. "Have some fresh vegetables. Fresh eggs every morning for breakfast."

"I can't get you out of bed before ten," she points out.

"You've never given me a cow to milk," he tells her. "If I knew I had a cow to milk..."

Midge shakes her head and raises both their hands to wipe her eyes again.

"We could just be Mr. and Mrs. Schneider," he offers playfully, stepping closer. "Our farm could be Fort Fuck Yourself, and we could grow fresh herbs for you to use in your cooking, and I'd plant you roses."

"I really like roses," she admits.

"I know," Lenny says. "But also, that life sounds fucking awful, doesn't it?"

She nods. "It does. It sounds terrible."

He sighs softly. "Joel is not worth all of this angst."

"I know."

"He just says shit. I don't even know if he believes it."

Midge nods. "I know."

"But you're still sad," Lenny points out gently.

She nods. "I am. I'm sad that my very existence makes someone else fucking miserable."

"Which is hilarious, because most women I know would be over the moon about making their ex-husband's lives a living hell," he smirks. "You're too nice to him, Midge."

"I can't help it," she confesses. "I'm just- I can't help it."

"What can I do here?" Lenny asks. "How do I help you out?"

"You help me out plenty," Midge reminds him.

"Okay, but right here, right now? We can wash the dishes five more times. You wanna go cry in the shower? It's a good shower for crying in, I know from experience."

She gazes at him sadly. "Lenny..."

"Mostly joking," he says, kissing one of her hands. "You wanna sit in front of the television and watch the test screen? Raid my refrigerator? Get drunk? Score some coke? Coke helps when you're sad."

Midge laughs. "Weren't you the one who claimed I'd be a megalomaniac on cocaine?"

Lenny snaps a finger. "That's right."

She sighs and wraps her arms around him. "Can we go lay down? Will you just hold me for a while?"

He nods, kissing her forehead tenderly. "Far less expensive than coke. I think I can swing that."

[mypoisonedvine]

the martyrdom of st. valentine (and other romantic stories) || dark!Bucky & dark!(stepbrother?)Steve x reader

summary: you wanted to surprise your boyfriend on valentine's day, but he and your foster brother have a surprise of their own.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon to the point of pretty much noncon), kinda stepcest (as per summary, steve is the reader's foster brother), bondage, a lil touch of degradation

2/14 to-do list

get waxed

get Steve out of the apartment

pick up chocolate-covered strawberries from bakery on 6th

blindfold and handcuff myself to the bed

be waiting for Bucky naked when he gets here

You sighed as you looked down at the paper, crossing the first and third items off the list. The second was going to be a bit harder, unfortunately; your foster brother had a habit of hanging around and cramping your style as much as he could manage. He felt like a real brother in that way… okay, maybe he felt like a real brother in most ways, a consequence of knowing him for most of your life, but he was definitely not your real brother. You remembered that each time you caught yourself staring too long when he was shirtless, or returning from the gym all veiny and glistening with sweat.

But you also remembered that he was still the closest thing to a real brother you'd ever had, and you scolded yourself internally for ever acting differently.

It didn’t matter now— you had Bucky, and he was the most amazing guy you’d ever met.  No, Steve was definitely not happy that introducing his best friend to his sister led to a relationship forming, but he couldn’t stop either of you in spite of his efforts to keep you apart.

Bucky had once expressed his suspicions that it was at least in part due to jealousy, if subliminal.  But you denied it unilaterally— he’s basically my brother, you told him, though it was more of a reminder to yourself than anything.

Perverted concerns about Steve’s motivations aside, Bucky was a great guy.  A bit of a sweet-talker for sure, and not exactly known for his ability to keep a long-term, serious relationship, but he was adamant that you had changed that and for once you were beginning to believe him.  You’d said from the beginning that you didn’t need this to be the proverbial ‘it’ for either of you but that you didn’t do hook-ups— especially with your brother’s friends, and extra especially with your brother’s closest and longest friend.  It only took a brief speech and two shots to convince you, now six months later and you were still going strong.

Days like this made you so happy you’d given in to his advances.  But they also made you regret giving in to Steve’s idea to be roommates in college.

“Stevie!” you yelped as he walked in, stuffing the to-do list into your backpocket.  “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffed.  “It’s Valentine’s Day, I bet you want to see Bucky.  He’s coming over, right?  And you want me to fuck off so my best friend can go to town on my sister?”

You frowned, crossing your arms.  “I wanted to see you because I have a gift for you.”

“... you do?”  His eyebrow raised and you hoped your smirk looked just as smug as it felt.

“So do you want your gift or do you want to be an asshole?”

“Do I have to pick just one?” he joked.

“Just come over here,” you instructed, waving him closer.  He seemed hesitant, but eventually did as you’d asked.  From your other back pocket you pulled out two tickets.

“Rangers, center ice,” you beamed.  “For you and a date.”

“And this isn’t just an excuse to get me out of the house?”

“No, it’s a thank you for being such a great brother.”

“So, if I wanted to take Bucky…” he trailed off, already calling your bluff as you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, that’s just sad.  There’s no reason you can’t find a girl to take— god knows Bucky hasn’t spent a Valentine’s Day alone since the fucking eighth grade.  And you’re just as cute as he is!”

“Well, if you could alert the rest of the female population to that, that would be great,” he scoffed, “but until then I’ll take the tickets,” he decided as he took them from your hand.  “A Rangers game might be the only thing distracting enough to keep me from thinking about what you and Buck are gonna do while I’m gone.”

You were hoping for a little more enthusiasm considering how much the tickets had cost you, but at least he was going to go and give you the apartment to yourself for the evening.  “You’re welcome, by the way.”

After stripping and sprinkling rose petals on the comforter, you'd actually found a YouTube tutorial on how to blindfold and handcuff oneself, and it was a little odd that enough people had this problem to merit its existence but it was still very helpful: turns out the secret is to blindfold yourself first but keep it folded up with one eye able to see until you do the handcuffs, then use your arm to slide the blindfold down into place.

It was tricky, and a little bit extra awkward while naked, but you figured it out and smiled proudly to yourself as you completed your last task on your to-do list.

Now, for likely the most difficult task of all: waiting in darkness and silence for Bucky to arrive.

Apparently it is, in fact, possible to be slightly bored yet titillated.  The thought of what Bucky would do to you when he got here was exciting, but it only made you crave his presence more which enhanced your quiet loneliness.  It wasn't like you could read a book or listen to music to kill the time, so you settled for humming to yourself as you waited.

Don't go changing, to try and please me, something something before, hmmm

I just want someone that I can talk to, I want you just the way you are...

But that grew tiresome quickly and you resorted instead to planning exacty how angry you would be if Bucky was late when you were waiting for him in such a compromising and inconvenient state.  For a moment you imagined he'd really gone to the Rangers game with Steve and became briefly livid over a hypothetical situation.

The crackling roar of Bucky's motorcycle outside was distant but undeniable, making you smile in anticipation.  You worried for a moment that you might have locked the top lock of the front door by instinct, but thankfully Bucky and to make it inside alright since next thing you knew, your bedroom door was opening.

The rattle of the doorknob made your breath catch; you opened your legs slowly in time with the quiet creak of the hinges.  “I’ve been waiting for you…” you purred.

“Hi there, babydoll,” Bucky’s voice answered back huskily.

The heavy steps of his boots made it clear he hadn't taken his shoes off at the door, a habit that had driven you crazy since he was your annoying brother's also-annoying best friend.  Was this the real reason he'd chained you up, so he could freely irritate you?  What next, was he gonna put a cold drink on your nightstand without a coaster?

"You really went all out for me, sweetheart," he noticed, his voice closer than you'd expected; it was fun to not know exactly where he would be, it made you squirm under the gaze you couldn't see but could somehow feel.

How weight joining yours on the bed was a good sign to his location though, along with his hands sliding up your legs.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he cooed pridefully as he dove in suddenly and licked a thick stripe through your folds.

“Fuck,” you shivered, tugging on your handcuffs unintentionally.

“Feel good, babygirl?” he pressed, chuckling when you nodded.  “You want more?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He didn’t get back to it right away, the weight on the bed shifting slightly, and it made you fear that he planned to make you beg more before eating you out— but finally his lips returned to you as his tongue explored your sex.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your back arching of its own volition.  It was a little different than he normally did this— less confident and measured, more cautious yet hungry.  Typically he teased you a lot more, knowing exactly the spots that drove you wild and intentionally leaving them understimulated until you begged him to let you come, but now as soon as he found them he was targeting them— perhaps a rare show of mercy from the guy who was normally happy to leave you on edge for hours.

You could feel his moans vibrating into you when he slid his tongue inside and against your channel; it instantly made your back arch as the handcuffs quietly clinked above your head.

He stopped just a little too soon, pulling your hips up until the back of your legs were resting on the front of his.  Being manhandled by him turned you on enough to make you bite your lip.

"Fuck, put your cock in me, wanna feel you," you moaned your plea as you heard the rustling of clothes; your mouth watered when you imagined Bucky stripping, with that insane body of his.

His thick head glided over your entrance and you were preparing to beg some more when he suddenly pushed in, giving you what you wanted so much faster than normal.  Not that you were complaining!

He was also much quieter than normal, which you were actually willing to complain about but didn't.

"Oh god," you groaned at the feeling of him stretching you open, gasping when his cock brushed right over your spot— it made your body jolt each time he pulled back and hit it again.

"Feels good, huh?" Bucky asked and you nodded happily.

"So good," you whimpered.

"I wasn't asking you."

Before you could question it, Bucky’s calloused fingers pulled up your blindfold— but it was Steve’s face above you, Steve’s body on top of yours… and, much to your horror, Steve’s cock inside you.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, trying to squirm away as you tugged at the cuffs but failing completely.

“Fuck,” Steve winced, “you get really tight when you struggle like that.”

“Don’t act so surprised, babygirl,” Bucky cooed playfully as you turned to stare at his devilish grin.  “You wanted this… you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.  And Stevie here always wanted this, too, and aren’t you so glad he told me?”

You shuddered as Steve continued thrusting, pushing his cock so deep it made you feel a little nauseous.  "Steve, you've gotta stop," you begged.   "If you love me, you'll stop."

"That's the thing: I love you too much to stop."

He moved faster, paying no mind to your confused whimpers, holding your hips tight as his head fell back slightly which brandished his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple.

"There's no point in pretending," Bucky reminded you coldly, watching the whole thing with crossed arms and an expression that almost looked… bemused?  "You already showed us how much you love it, so don't waste your time acting so disgusted now."

You regretted more than anything saying that it felt good, literally asking him to fuck you before you really understood what you were asking for: you thought it was Bucky, yes, but that didn't mean it was an act.  It did feel good, and that must've been obvious to everyone since you were so wet already.  You could hear it each time he pushed all the way in, that telltale squelching noise that was somehow disgusting and hot all at once.

Steve wasn't so quiet now that he didn't have to be.  "God, you feel so good," he whispered, grabbing the backs of your knees and pushing your legs up.  It forced his cock even deeper and you choked on your own suppressed moan.

You heard Bucky opening his belt, and turned your head to see him pull out and stroke his cock while he watched Steve fuck you.  It was hard to imagine what he was getting out of this; he never seemed like the sharing type, if anything he sometimes became too possessive.  But clearly there was a lot about him and Steve that you didn't understand.

"Play with her tits," Bucky instructed, voice a bit deeper as he pleasured himself, "makes her come so fast."

Steve dropped your legs to rest on his shoulders so his hands were free to grope your chest, thick fingers twisting and tugging your nipples.  Annoyingly, Bucky knew his way around your body well by now, and so it was difficult to pretend that Steve's touches weren't sending shocks of pleasure right down your spine and to your core.

You had been biting on your lip so hard to stay quiet that you feared you would break the skin, until Bucky leaned down and gave you a little slap on the cheek— not very hard, but enough to make you gasp which in turn released the moan you'd been holding back.

"There it is, honey, don't be quiet for my benefit," Bucky encouraged.  "It's okay to like it, I'm not gonna be jealous."

As if that was your concern; angering your boyfriend by enjoying being fucked by your foster brother.  

"You really overestimate my interest in your— fuck— in your feelings," you panted as you glared up at Bucky where he was grinning down at you with a look that almost indicated pride.

"You're gonna come, aren't you?" he asked, ignoring your resistance entirely.  Whatever chance you had at pretending he was wrong was lost when, just for a moment, your eyes widened at his question.  "Yeah, thought so.  I can tell by that dumb look on your face.  I'm close too, babydoll, betcha wanna taste it…"

His free hand roughly held your jaw open as he stroked himself desperately, his weak groan coinciding with the moment you felt his hot seed spray into your open mouth, his taste familiar despite the entirely surreal circumstances.

It was purely coincidence that you came in that moment, your walls bearing down on Steve while you tried to stay silent so you wouldn't choke on Bucky's spend.

"Fuck, that's it, gonna fill this pretty mouth— god yes, you'd better swallow it all," he sighed as come painted your tongue and the inside of your cheek.  Maybe it was more than normal or maybe it was just that he was tightening his hand around the head of his cock to get every drop in your mouth, but either way it was enough to give you quite a mouthful to swallow, which you did without much question due to force of habit.

"M’close too," Steve warned as Bucky stepped back, "I'm gonna come."

“No, Steve, not inside,” you whimpered, hearing the way your voice had weakened after your orgasm, “you can’t…”

“I can,” he disagreed, “Bucky said so.”

Once again, Bucky's will was more important than your own, and your desperate pulling at the handcuffs was only another reminder of the way you'd guided yourself into his trap.

"Don't," you stammered one more time, but it was hard to focus when he was filling you exactly how you needed, when his thick hands gripping your waist felt just as perfect as you'd secretly imagined so many times… 

Denial is a powerful drug, but so is two orgasms in a row.

"Fuck!" you yelped as you felt a gush of warmth drip from your entrance, even further wetness spurring on Steve's fast and brutal thrusts into you.

"Knew you'd love it," Steve mumbled, growling slightly as he slammed into you.  "Knew you'd take it so well, make a pretty mess all over my cock— fuck I can't wait anymore, gotta fill you up, oh my god... gotta give you my load, honey, you want it?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "Steve, yes, come in me…"

He didn't need much more encouragement than that, groaning loudly as you felt his cock flex and pulse against your walls, his release overwhelmingly hot inside you.

You sighed in time with Steve as he finally stilled, and it was hard to know where to look when Steve and Bucky were both staring down at you.  “What happens now?” you found yourself asking, not so much a literal question about the next task but more about what the three of you were going to do with all the unfortunate truths that had come to light in less than half an hour.

“What happens now is I take my turn,” Bucky informed you sternly, pushing Steve aside.  “Did you really think I wasn’t gonna fuck my girlfriend on Valentine’s Day?”

[babygirl-diaz]

It's Been a Long Long Time

((Prompt by @samwilsonsb4be: Not sure if you have already received this one but Sam with old man Steve, Sam visiting him and them spending 4th of July together 😊))

Sam settled against the door with his bouquet of roses in hand as he watched Steve struggle to tie his tie in the mirror.

"Mr. Rogers, let me help you," Seth, the caregiver, was saying, but Steve stubbornly brushed him off.

"I have two hands and I still know how to use them, young man."

Seth spotted Sam and opened his mouth to say something, but Sam shook his head and put a finger to his lips. He waved him off, prompting Seth to scurry out of the room.

"Said he'd be here at 5. It's 5:10 and not a sign of him," Steve was grumbling to himself. "Why would he want to spend time with me anymore when he has new friends?" He continued to huff, but Sam could hear the sadness in his voice. He also knew exactly who Steve was complaining about.

"He sounds like a real jerk," Sam chuckled as he made his way over to Steve, with the bouquet of roses behind his back.

Steve's head snapped towards him, scaring Sam that he must have given himself whiplash.

"You're here..." Steve almost sounded like he couldn't believe it.

"Told ya I would be," Sam replied as he produced the roses from behind his back and presented them to Steve. "Happy birthday, buddy." He leaned in and gave Steve a kiss on the cheek.

Steve took the roses and stared at them in awe. "Thank you," he said, almost in disbelief, and kissed Sam's cheek as well and cupped it with a shaky hand. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he removed his hand and gave Sam a smile.

"May I?" Sam asked, as he pointed at the abandoned tie around Steve's neck.

Steve looked like he was about to protest, but then he sighed and nodded. "Go ahead."

Sam started tying the tie, all the while looking at his friend.

"I'm old..." Steve said sadly.

"I noticed," Sam replied. He knew exactly what Steve meant, but he chose not to engage him in another one of those conversations. "There ya go," he said once he finished. "Ready for dinner?"

"As I'll ever be.” 

Sam hooked Steve's arm around his own and slowly led him out of the room. "What did you get up to today?" He asked.

"Oh, you know, saved the world maybe once or twice and then took a fella to dinner. I hope he says yes to a dance afterward," Steve replied, looking over at Sam and offering him a smile that reminded Sam of the Steve he met back in 2014.

"Maybe he will if you ask nicely," Sam replied, returning his smile as he took Steve to the dining room at the retirement home.

"Where is everyone?" Steve asked, confused, as he looked around the empty room.

"Oh, it's just going to be the two of us," Sam replied.

"You arranged for this?"

"Figured we could use some alone time." Sam pulled out the chair and let Steve sit down before going over to his own seat.

The kitchen staff soon brought out the dinner. Everything on the menu tonight was Steve's favorite.

Steve reached out and took Sam's hand, and placed a kiss on his knuckles. "You sure know how to make a fella feel special," he said.

"What can I say? I'm a charmer," Sam chuckled. "Go on, you can have the apple pie first. I know you want to."

Steve did just that. "This is heavenly," he said in delight before holding out a spoonful to Sam, who got up from his chair and had a taste of the apple pie.

"Damn, you're right," he said. "This is heavenly."

They soon dug into their meal and engaged in a conversation about pretty much everything.

Once dinner ended, Sam linked his arm with Steve's again and led him to the lawn with two lawn chairs set up in the middle. 

"What are we doing here?" Steve asked, confused.

"You'll find out soon enough," Sam replied and helped Steve sit down.

He settled in his own lawn chair and then pulled out his phone to call someone. "Go ahead," he told them before hanging up.

It wasn't long before fireworks erupted in the distance.

"Y- you did that?" Steve asked.

"I know people,” Sam replied, offering Steve a big smile. “Look!” He pointed towards the sky which now read “Happy Birthday Steve.” 

Sam noticed tears in Steve’s eyes and felt his heart sink. “What happened? You don’t like it?” 

“I love it!” Steve replied through tears. “No one has ever done this for me. Thank you,” he said appreciatively, looking over at Sam. 

“Anything for you,” Sam answered and gently squeezed Steve’s hand. 

They sat there watching the fireworks and listening to old-time music on Sam’s phone for what seemed like hours. Soon, one of Steve’s favorite songs came up on the playlist and he said, “Can I have this dance?” 

“Sure,” Sam replied and got up from the chair, helping Steve up again. 

Steve moved to rest his hand on Sam’s waist while Sam wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck. They slowly swayed to Kitty Kallen’s “It’s Been a Long Long Time,” while being completely wrapped up in one another while the fireworks continued. 

[summahsunlight]

Perhaps It's Fate, Part 23

Rating: T, to be safe

Word Count: 1.5k+

Summary: After joining the Resistance as a mechanic, you were happy to keep to yourself, until a little orange and white bb unit and his master wander into your workshop one day.

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Mechanic!Reader

Start from the beginning!

Taglist: @ms-dont-care​, @starless-eyes-remain​, @elmoakepoke​, @marvelobsessiononastick​, @kiaralein​, @softly-sad​, @totalpoedameron, @ordinarymom1​, @sevvysaurus​, @spider-starry​, @liadamerondjarin​, @jingyuhearteu​, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling​, @paintballkid711​, @ren-ni​, @lostinwonderland314​, @elite4cekalyma​,@elisabethbathgate​

Here is the next part! Likes, comments, and reblog are always appreciated. I hope that you enjoy it. Remember the taglist is open if you want to be added just let me know! Happy reading lovelies!🥰❤️

You woke up early the next morning with BB-8 still snuggled on the cot with you.

This made you thankful that Poe had refused to listen to you and left the little droid with you while he was away. It made you laugh to think that BB-8 brought you so much comfort, but he did. With a gentle smile, you pulled the covers back and slipped out of the cot. BB-8 immediately woke up and got down, following you towards the shower. Perhaps your boyfriend had asked the droid to keep a little too close of an eye on you.

Gently you turned the droid away, assuring him that you were okay and just needed a hot shower before breakfast. He seemed a little annoyed when you shut the door in his face and locked it, but at least you were able take a quick, hot shower.

Now dressed in a pair of fatigues, your damp hair pulled back, you made your way to the mess with BB-8 behind you. Meals were a little lonely with Poe away, but at least you had Finn, Rose, and Rey to keep your mind off of things. When you entered the mess you were not surprised to find your closest friends already seated at a table, waiting for you.

"You look well rested," Rose pointed out. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," you replied. "You sound surprised."

"It's just that you don't normally sleep well with Poe away."

"I had BeeBee with me last night."

BB-8 affirmed that he had taken care of you for the evening and he'd thought he had done a fine job in the absence of Poe.

Smiling, you leaned down and gently scratched the droid on his round body. "Yes, you did a good job, Bee." And you were sure that BB-8 would continue to take care of you until Poe returned. You hoped that was soon; as much as you loved having BB-8 with you and making sure you were alright, he wasn't Poe. "Any new parts today?" you asked your friends, eager to think about work and not about how far away Poe was at the moment.

Finn nodded. "We got a big shipment of supplies in last night; looks like there might be some salvageable parts in there."

Rose agreed with him. "Hopefully we can use those parts to repair some more of those fighters we acquired. Right now none of them are ready to fly except the x-wings that Black Squadron are using."

It sounded like you were going to have a lot of work to do today, which was good, more work meant less time to think about being trapped on this ship and being away from Poe. You quickly finished your breakfast and still with BB-8 in tow, you made your way to the small corner of the hanger bay that you had set up as a "work shop".

You liked that it was situated away from all the noise and activity of the rest of the hanger; you felt safe in this little corner and you found that you were more focused working back here. You would work until BB-8 reminded you that it was lunch time--while making sure you slept at night, he also made sure that you eat properly. He took his job of taking care of you very seriously.

"Okay, Bee, let's see how much we can get done today."

BB-8 eagerly got to work helping you; with any luck the two of you would have completed half of your tasks by lunch time.

-----

Poe stood on the edge of the cliff, watching the rushing water fall hundreds of feet below him. After searching for three days, Black Squadron believed they had finally found a new planet to set up base. There were existing buildings already here that would need some repairs, but the Resistance would not have to build from the ground up.

He hoped this meant that his squadron could return to the fleet and he would be able to check in on you. Even though Poe had left BB-8 behind to look after you, he was still worried what your anxiety was doing to you while he was away. This planet had plenty of peaceful spots he knew would help ease your anxiety and hopefully chase away some of your panic attacks.

Turning away from the waterfall, Poe made his way back through the jungle towards the spot Black Squadron had landed their fighters. It was odd not having BB-8 by his side; after the first few planets Poe had gotten used to it. The droid that had been sent with him did its job--he knew that BB-8 had a more important job back on the freighter.

"Hey," Snap greeted him when Poe reappeared. "I radioed the General; the Fleet is going to make their way here."

"That's good," Poe said, tensely. "Let's see if we can get some of this equipment up and running before they get here."

"You alright, Poe?"

"Worried about y/n."

"BeeBee is with her; I'm sure she's fine."

"I'm sure she is too--but that doesn't stop me from worrying."

Snap gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Listen, I know she's been through a lot, things that no one should ever have to go through--but she's a strong kid, Poe. She can handle you being away for a little while."

Poe sighed, heavily, and slightly nodded his head. "It's more complicated than that, Snap. She watched the First Order kill her entire family--the Resistance, Black Squadron--me--we're all she has left."

"Yeah, I get that. She isn't gonna be alone, Poe."

"We don't know that! We don't know what's going to happen!"

"No, we don't know what's going to happen, but Poe--"

"I just want this to be over--for her."

"We all want this to be over, Dameron."

This was true, but no one wanted it to be over more than Poe. He was exhausted. He wanted to go home, he wanted to live a life without fear and danger. And the only way for that to happen would be for the Resistance to win the war. Poe had very little hope left that this was going to happen.

He knew his dimming optimism was having an effect on Black Squadron, on Finn, you--hell it was having an effect on the entire Resistance, but Poe couldn't shake the ever present feeling of dread since their disaster at Crait.

Snap gave him another gentle pat on the shoulder and left him alone for a bit. He knew it had been difficult for Poe the last few months; he wished Poe would stop blaming himself for everything. So many of them had told Poe this already--it wasn't worth Snap's time right now--and honestly, he didn't have time to argue with Poe.

The fleet would be arriving any moment and they needed to be ready to get operations up and running right away. If there was any chance at all, Poe knew that he had to put the past behind him--it was hard--he had caused a lot of deaths. And this was a guilt he'd carry around for the rest of his life, despite you telling him time and time again that he couldn't have prevented it all.

In the end Poe had been the one to save them.

He had been the one to get them off of the Supremacy, he had been the one to get them to the safety of Crait, and he had been the one to track down Black Squadron and rescue them. If it had not been for Poe, even more of them would be dead.

Poe just couldn't see that--yet.

Swallowing all the guilt and self-doubt, Poe joined his squad mates in prepping the base. It took them a total of four hours and when he was done, he went on a search for some flowers to adorn your little workshop he had managed to set up. A nice little nook just for you, where he knew you'd settle in and feel safe.

As he collected the flowers, the chain around his neck slipped out from underneath his collar, his mom's ring glittering in the sun. His little droid companion questioned him about it.

"My necklace?" Poe repeated, straightening his shoulders. He took the ring in his hand. "Huh, I forgot I had it on to be honest. It was my mom's--she was a pilot too."

He was surprised when the droid asked why he wore it. BB-8 had been curious about it too the first time they'd met. "It was given to me so I could eventually give it to the person I'm going to marry," Poe answered, an image of you flashing before his eyes.

Did he find the person yet? the droid inquired.

"Yeah," Poe whispered, smiling softly. "I did. You know, I think it's time I gave it to her."

"Commander!" someone shouted for him, "the fleet is arriving!"

Poe tucked the ring back underneath his collar, heading towards the base to meet the arriving Resistance--and vowing that he was going to give you that ring before this war was over.

[harold231]

It wasn't real

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Posted: 04/30/2021

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None? Maybe a lil angst just a lel bet.

A/N: I think it might be good? Idk You let me know. But like frfr, don't just give me feedback in your mind, put it into words. Also I apparently have a thing for Bucky in a dotted apron soooo yeah.

FYI: time zone/era is open for interpretation. Bucky never became an avenger/soldat and steve isn't part of this one.

The wind that blew around you was warm and sweet with the scent of freshly bloomed flowers. Perhaps it was an act of kindness from some God trying to distract you from the cold bitterness settling into your bones. Closing your eyes you conjure the very memory that left you so desolate.

The sun snuck it's way through the curtains to illuminate the room, effectively disturbing the sleep that you always seemed to be craving. Waking up is always hassle but whenever you remember that you get to spend your day with the only person who tolerates you and you him, getting out of bed is the easiest thing. Bucky is crazy and the damn boy is never in one spot for to long and he always has something to say, but you can't imagine how boring your days would be if you guys had never met. well technically if your parents had never met.

When you were a child you parents had to move to new york for business and they decided that Brooklyn was the place to be. You had been Bucky's neighbor and the first day you guys moved in his mom had dragged him over with the most delicious angel food cake that he so proudly claimed to have made mostly on his own. He just loved cooking and baking since forever, he would tell you that he just liked experimenting with foods but you knew the truth was that the boy liked to eat and didn't have the patience to wait for his mother to come home.

Only a few years after your family had moved to Brooklyn you and Bucky had already built an unbreakable bond. You guys had found a beautiful cherry tree one day when playing tag and had deemed it to be your's and Bucky's spot. Whenever you had a bad day or needed time away from the world you guys would go to the tree and just pick cherries, in the winter time you and Bucky would lay under the tree and kick the trunk so that the snow would fall from the leaves. It was the place where at only 15 years old bucky swore he would open his own Bakery and to quote him "I'm serving my ma's food my way doll, It's gonna be the next best thing to hit New York."

You were laying on the ground with your hands crossed behind your head looking up at Bucky swinging upside down from a branch when he told you all this. You felt something you had never felt before at that moment, looking up at the wild haired boy who loved to eat, loved his family, and had the most ambition you had ever heard from kids your age. Your heart felt full and your cheeks grew warm as you looked up at the same blue eyes you had know for years now, only this time you notice the way they twinkle in the sunlight and how rosy his lips are. Now 7 years laters you and Bucky were preparing to open the very bakery he promised you he'd open. Banners were beautifully strung along the walls and cute retro china was set out, ready to be filled for opening day. There was no hesitation from you when Bucky had asked you to run the bakery with him, you were excited to spend your days with the person you hoped you would spend the rest of your life with.

At around 6:30 in the morning you had arrived at the bakery but it seemed that Bucky had beat you to it. The smell of fresh angel food cake and cocoa danced up your nose as soon as you opened the door. Closing your eyes you smiled at the memories that it brought back. Moving to the back you grabbed your Disney themed apron and placed your bag and coat in its place before scurrying over to the kitchen while trying (and failing) to tie your apron. There in all his dorkiness was Bucky wiggling around to the chordettes. He knew that you loved the 50's aesthetic so he found a way to incorporate it without going overboard, by adding little trinkets, a jukebox, and even those cute little dining tables. In fact at the moment he was wearing a ruffly red polka dotted apron as he frosted some cupcakes.

Apron tied, you were finally ready to get to work. You walked up to Bucky bumping his hip as you reached for some cupcake pans, "Whatcha doin here so early Buck, we don't open until 12" he looks at you with squinted eyes, "The hell are you doing here so early." "Woah,woah,woah completely unprovoked. I'm just saying cuz' you were the one complaining about the opening time being set at 8. Like damn." Breathing out a huff of air he wipes his forehead with a towel "I'm sorry doll, I'm just super nervous and I couldn't sleep so I came to start baking things. I already frosted the ice cream cakes and I just finished the pies, but I was thinking that maybe we needed some cupcakes too, even though we already baked so many pastries and stuff last night I'm worried it won't be enough."

Setting down the trays you move to hug Bucky from behind holding him close to you. "Buck I know we'll do great your food is too good to pass up on especially when it's free." You place a soft kiss to his shoulder " I promise you'll do great, everything you do is amazing you try your hardest at everything Buck, You've worked your butt off and made mine considerably larger to get here, don't start losing your mind on me now." A cute little laugh from Bucky lets you know that he's hearing you and he isn't so stressed anymore. "I just want this to be perfect ya know?" with your head still against his back you nod, "I just want it to be a special day for my special girl."

You couldn't stop the slight blush that rose to your cheeks or the way that your heart suddenly started beating three times faster. You had also wanted to make him something special which is why you had got here so early. Finally releasing your hold on Bucky you straighten your apron out before gathering everything you need for some red velvet cupcakes. Bucky loved your red velvet cake so you loved making it for him. After hours of mixing, baking, and frosting had passed, you guys were rewarded with a bakery that looked as great as it smelled. "Alright doll, I'm heading out, I gotta go get ready. Meet you back here at 12 , Love ya." He didn't even give you a chance to answer as he ran right out the door. "Love you too."

You had stayed behind just a little while longer as you perfected your secret project. Carefully you added snowflakes to some of the cupcakes because you knew how much he loved snow even if he hated winter, some cats, flowers that reminded you of bucky, and one extra special cupcake. When you finish you decide to clean up a bit more and prepare some drinks for later before heading home to get ready. As soon as you got home you took a shower and did the simplest of make up with a light pink lip. You had decided to wear a dress to match the blossoming flowers that spring had brought. Pink with a yellow lace trim and flowers embroided all over the dress, matching it with some yellow flats.

You had decided that it was a perfect day for a walk so you grabbed a light scarf and slung it over your shoulders, grabbed Bucky's cupcakes, and headed over to the bakery. You felt as if a Hundred pounds had been lifted from your shoulders knowing that Bucky had felt the same way about you. You had decided that you would tell him today with your special cupcakes. As you rounded the corner you felt giddy and you couldn't wipe the smile from your face no matter how hard you tried. As you reached the bakery you saw that a majority of the people had already arrived and you knew that it would put Bucky at ease to see all the people enjoying his food. You stopped at the window, closing your eyes to take a deep breath to prepare yourself to join the celebration.

Opening your eyes you reached for the handle only to stop at the sight on the other side of the door. Bucky stood there arms wrapped around a woman eyes locked on hers as he leaned in for a kiss. It must have all happened in about 30 seconds but it felt as if time himself had slowed it down for you to watch the way he tilted her head and ran his tongue along her bottom lip before finally uniting their lips. Your heart dropped as quickly as your smile did and suddenly you felt so stupid for thinking this could be real. You willed yourself not to cry as you allowed your legs to carry you anywhere but there.

That's how you found yourself sitting underneath a blossoming cherry tree. A tree that held only happy memories because it wasn't a place you could be sad... back then. With your back against the tree and box of cupcakes full of unrequited love in your lap you realize how much you over romanticized Bucky. Opening the box you decide it would be a shame to let them go to waste. The first one you grab has a big red heart frosted in the middle, you let out a deep sigh before breaking the cupcake right down the middle. You shove half of the cupcake into your mouth and only then do you allow the tears to fall. You sat there for hours crying eating cupcakes, watching the sunset, and thinking about everything that Bucky did for you, as a friend. You realize you had no right to be angry at Bucky, after all you never told him how you felt you just assumed that he would feel the same way after so many years. With every broken memory another cupcake vanished.

He was always there for you, when no one wanted to come to your slumber party Bucky did and he even did all the girly things with you. Painting your nails, doing your hair, watching chick flicks, and pillow fights. once he even asserted that no one could protect you as well as he could, when you had decided to go camping with your friend from class so he insisted on taking you himself. Your friend was most noticeably gay so you had assumed he wanted to spend time alone with you. But now that you think back on those memories these are things that anyone would do for their bestfriend. And that's what you realized 8 hours and 11 cupcakes later.

The moon floated above you and as it's white rays settled upon the lake you decided it might be time to go home now. You get up and dust your dress off before leaning down to grab the mostly empty box. Turning around you are stopped again by what's in front of you. Bucky stands there brows furrowed as his eyes flash from you to the box in your hands. "Where the hell have you been, I've been calling you all day." swallowing the lump in your throat you go to answer but are interrupted. " everyone's been asking me about you all night and I had no damn idea what to tell them, but apparently you were just out here being inconsiderate. You go and tell me I can do great tonight, that you'd be there for me, but you weren't." You try to answer him but are again interrupted. "You could have told me something earlier instead of leaving me there like a dumb-" "SHUT UP!" this time it was your turn to interrupt him.

Taking a deep breath you look into his eyes before explaining. "Of course I was ready to be there today, you think I wore this dress to sit under a damn tree? Well I didn't. When I left my apartment I was ready and I was excited, so excited. I couldn't even stop smiling on my way over, but then I got to the shop and I saw-" Immediately you stopped as you realized what you were about to say. He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head slightly as if to say 'Hello?' "You saw what? What did you see that would make you abandon ship just like that?" Shame flushed through your being and you could no longer keep eye contact. "Nothing, you know what, it doesn't even matter. I'm sorry I was being dramatic I should have been an adult and dealt with it on my own time. And I'm sorry I abandoned you all, but the night was about you anyways."

"The night was supposed to be about the both of us so it does matter if you saw something that made you want to leave. Just tell me doll, what did you see?" his voice is soft as he pleads with you. "I saw... well I saw you kissing that lady and I just wanted get away and ended up here okay!?" You said it all in a jumble hoping that he wouldn't be able to understand what you had said. But luck wasn't your friend so of course he did. "So seeing me kiss another person was so gross to you that you had to run away, what the hell? are you 13 again?" You hadn't admitted it outloud yet and it seemed that the dumbass in front of you was going to force it out of you.

Stepping around Bucky you pull your scarf tight around your body as you focus on not crying anymore until you get home. You distract yourself by thinking of all the love you saw in all the little things Bucky did for you. Dancing around the newly furnished bakery body against body as frank sinatra brought you heart to heart, watching rom-coms and ugly crying together, but by the time you get home you force yourself to face the ugly truth. The Love was always in your head. It wasn't real.

A new wave of tears blurred your vision as teardrops fell perfectly to the ground. "It's because I have feelings for you Bucky, and I now know you don't feel the same way." Sniffling you don't bother looking up because your heart is to broken for that right now. "I'm Just gonna need a little bit of time and I'll be back good as new like nothing even happened." Still unable to lift your gaze from the ground you decide to focus on the last cupcake left in the box. 'I Love You' is written in tiny light blue frosting letters. "I uhm, uhh." That brought your attention to Bucky, as embarrassment pulsed as strong as ever through your veins. " You don't have to say anything Buck, It's fine, I'll see you next week, on monday" you hand him the box as you go to pass him "I think you would have a better use for this than me I ate 11 others already so."

Divider credits: @firefly-graphics

[dreamiesdotcom]

shooting star | n.jm

Summary: You take a pen, resting your cheeks on your palms as you lazily think of words to write — now and then, you lock gazes with Jaemin and you pretend that the red in your cheeks is just of the cold.

Word Count : 3.9k

The rooftop is big, but it feels a little crowded.

The addition of people is not bad, you think, especially since those people make your friends happy. By tradition, you welcome the New Year in this rooftop, playing music and games just like the other days but this time, with more food and... well, New Year stuff — fireworks, things to make noise with. The addition of people is not bad. If you're observant enough, it can even be entertaining.

As an example, if you look close enough, you'll see that Renjun and Jisung have been just friends for too long. That, in the sense of Renjun watching Jisung playfully ride the beat, a smile that tips over the line of finding his carelessness unbearable in a growing-more-in-love kind of way.

He looks lost, maybe even intoxicated in the other's laughter, admiring the way Jeno can make his best friend easily drop his shyness. Renjun looks like he wants to know how. If you look close enough, you'll see the regretful heart behind his faux scowl.

Renjun looks at Jeno and Jisung with longing, the kind you're familiar with. He turns to you, and you avert your gaze a little too late because he's giggling as he walks over to your direction.

"So, you saw me, huh?" He asks, handing you a glass of whatever drink he first laid his hands on, no 'happy new year' or any appropriate first greeting. He leans against the railings and sighs wistfully, "Look, do you ever just fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend?"

"Out of random?"

"You don't fall for people at random." Bewilderment crosses his face, and he turns to you the same time you look at him. You shrug, and he arches a brow, "You let that build up and wait for it to destroy you."

You let that build up — the words echo inside your head as you break eye contact. Right across, Donghyuck pulls away from hugging Jaemin with a bright smile, handing him a gift. Jaemin sets it down, and probably feels your gaze on him because he looks up and beams at you. Red flushes your cheeks. — and wait for it to destroy you.

"Toast to that, I guess," you smile, watching him pretend to judge you and fail. Chenle calls out his name for a picture before they set up the fireworks, and before Renjun detaches himself from you, he bumps the rim of his glass to yours. You sigh.

"To the love we wished deserved and didn't."

Shock engulfs his features, then he laughs and he repeats the words before he leaves. The sudden lack of company feels a little cold.

You look at the candle one of them randomly lit, looking at it in stupor before picking it up. The wax trickles and scorches your skin, but you don't wince like you probably would any other feeling day. You hold onto it firmly until its golden glow is close enough to your hands, warm enough that you could pretend it's about to set you on fire.

All so suddenly Jaemin is beside you, blowing off the flame. You watch at him in question until he smiles.

"That'll burn."

"That's alright," you fake a laugh. "I want for a lot of things to burn."

###

It all starts on a Wednesday, a fine afternoon spent sitting at a cafe, waiting for Donghyuck. Your notebook remains open at your side, empty and waiting to be filled with unabashed emotions. The past eight months were spent uninspired, and you decided to look around the place in search of something — maybe the vintage items, the ivory wallpapers, the beautiful chairs — anything.

Something comes in the form of nervous eyes and flushed cheeks, a boy sitting at the far right of the place. He sits alone, fingers tapping on the table, sunlight grazing his skin. You almost hated how cliche everything had been — a boy, an uninspired poet, hands that so desperately itch to write about faded pink hair and a lost angel.

Your gazes meet, and everything unfolds way too softly for it to not be love at first sight.

At that moment, you knew nothing that good should be real. At that moment, you knew nothing that good could be yours.

You were right.

Donghyuck comes in, and he waves at you excitedly before furrowing his brows. Your best friend had always been adorably one of a kind, but none of his weirdness could have prepared you for when he walks straight to the boy's table, and you were almost certain he caught you two staring at each other and is waiting to set you two up, until he's walking back to your table with the brightest grin, the boy beside him.

Their hands entwined.

"He's my boyfriend!" He squeals, "Oh hell, should've said his name first. He's Jaemin, and he's my boyfriend."

"Oh..." you nodded, hands subtly moving to close your notebook. "Uh. Hi."

They both stand in silence before they start cracking up, inevitably making you smile. You excuse your awkwardness, and Donghyuck introduces you two again, and you shake hands this time. You pretend you don't feel shivers run down your spine.

The day passed in blurs of sugar smiles, a love story, a dull throb in your heart. The poetry being written in your head never got finished.

###

The first time you realize it, the world seems to forget you were even born, Donghyuck's across the world with his parents, and solitude is eating you alive. You find yourself stumbling back to the same rooftop, plucking rose petals with a sad face.

It's probably petty — honestly, it is, but it's not just that. It's not that you wanted gifts, or you wanted attention; you wanted to just feel special, to know that someone is glad that once upon a time on this very day, you were born. To belong. To feel wanted. To be told "Happy Birthday" because you are important and should be celebrated.

And maybe it's also because you grew used to it, waking up to several different ways of saying 'Happy Birthday'. Maybe you were used to midnight greetings, to people forcing you out of bed at 6 am, to eating breakfast and lunch and dinner together. Your home had been so empty and to have your friends fill that gap even just for a day is something you look forward to every year — the mournful feeling is there again.

8 pm glares at you on your lock screen, and it reminds you that you can't do any of that now. You tip your head back and let your back hit the floor. Maybe if you look hard enough, you'll see a shooting star and it'll give you a little something.

"What're you doing?"

You look up, surprised but not alarmed. Jaemin's soft smile greets your sight.

"I'm laying down and waiting for a comet to strike me."

The sound of his camera constantly breaks the static, and you realize that he'd been taking pictures of the nightlife. He makes a noise that tells you he isn't convinced with your answer, but you don't entertain him anymore. You just watch him take as many polaroids as he can, and you laugh because suddenly, the only thoughts in your mind becomes 'pretty, pretty, pretty'.

You force a laugh, "It's my birthday."

"Is today your birthday!? Nobody told me!"

"It's not important. I mean, who celebrates birthdays these days, righ— Hey!" The familiar snap sounds again and you stand up from where you're laying down, ready to hit him, but then he gives you the film. You look at his hands and back up, "What's this?"

"My gift." He shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You take the picture from his hands, hesitant but relieved that it seemed to look nice, anyway. Jaemin smiles, "It's the image of an angel."

The world stops.

It's ridiculous and cheesy, even he knew that; the two of you laugh uncontrollably. It wasn't the kind of laughter that fades after a minute, but rather the kind that stops for a while only to start up again. The sound grows louder with each passing moment, and your eyes meet, but you don't stop until you both become embarrassed enough to blush; neither of you look away.

 Maybe you are in love.

Maybe you are in love, and maybe he is too — except this time, it's not with Donghyuck, who it should be.

###

"It's you I meet again," Jaemin chimes. "What's up, buttercup? What are you doing here, a coffee shop, at 3 am?"

You look around the cafe, the tables empty. You briefly wonder about when Jaemin started working here before you realize you're unnecessarily curious. You press your lips into a thin line, looking for someone.

"I'd like to assume you already know." Your forehead creased when you noticed the unusual absence, "Where's my favorite boy?"

"Am I not your favorite boy?"

Jaemin pouts, and heaven, how it made your heart skip. You blink, spending the moment in silence, waiting for him to give up. "You are, indeed, not my favorite boy," You smile sweetly. "Where's Renjun?"

"I'm here because he's not. Do I seem like I work here? I was drinking coffee before he passed me an apron and left."

You roll your eyes, a poor attempt at keeping in the words of agreement — you kind of do, you look pretty, I could write so much about you — and you pretend to want nothing but get your drink. It takes an eternity before he lets you go, but once he does, you get comfortable on a table and whip out your notebook.

You look down on the first page, tracing the neatly written words — a confession if anybody who knows you gets to read it. A confession more than a dedication.

To the boy I shouldn't have loved.

The very same shooting star who gifted me a lifetime of heartbreak.

You heave a heavy sigh. You take a pen, resting your cheeks on your palms as you lazily think of words to write — now and then, you lock gazes with Jaemin and you pretend that the red in your cheeks is just of the cold. From that moment, every word you write is either about lights so bright you don't forget how beautiful he was under them, or something so strong it erases every trace of him from your system.

Jaemin leaves the counter and takes the chair across you. You look at him in confusion.

"I don't think you can do that?"

"I just did so I suppose, I can definitely do that." He smiles brightly. "So, what're we doing?"

You eye your notebook before quickly closing it, and then your half-finished cup of coffee. It's still dark outside with only some cars and people passing by, none of them interested in coming inside the cozy place. You say something about just being about to leave, and you look at him as if to say whatever's inside your head. Then, you stand up and walk away.

"Stay," he whispers, light enough that you'd think you weren't supposed to hear.

You swallow the lump in your throat when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, cold against warm, and you don't have to look at his face to know of the begging stare he has directed for you at the moment. You try to look away but you feel weak, so weak that you could only manage a thin, shivering voice.

"Let me go."

"I can't."

Then don't, the voice in your head whispers, the selfish one; the greedy one, the desperate one. In reality, you close your eyes and tug your hands back because what's wrong is wrong, and what's wrong can never be right.

###

The rain clouds come one of the many times Jaemin asks for you to accompany him, and the storm looms darker above you with each genuine 'yes'.

The way this set up started had been pretty simple — hanging out together as friends, getting closer for Donghyuck's comfort; best friend-boyfriend bonding as he called it. For a while, it was everything. It's just your best friend trying to get you to trust his boyfriend, getting to know each other, and that's all — that's the truth.

It was friendship until it wasn't, and that was the truth until it was not anymore.

The night was peaceful so you didn't expect anything to go wrong, but expectations aren't always accurate. The sea looks calm, the moon brighter than all the other days. Jaemin's playing a somber song, something magical that just fits right for him and bittersweet love. His eyelashes flutter in a way gentle enough to drive you crazy, his perfume mingling with the cold night sea breeze, and it's too much that it drives you insane.

"What's wrong?" He asks as if he already knows the answer. "You're not telling me something."

It's been three months and a year since you and Jaemin started hanging out alone, and the swirling guilt in your gut is unnecessary because you're not even doing anything wrong.

It's the fleeting moments, you think, those lingering touches whenever you try to take from him the keys — "I'll drive," you'd whisper when you see yet again that look. Jaemin would smile, "What, scared I'll crash? I'm not stupid." — and when he doesn't give them, you sigh heavily with a hopeful look in your eyes. "Where to?" You'd ask even if you didn't care, and he would let himself forget the world as he opens the door for you, whispering words only a dreamer would say: "Stars."

And maybe it's where everything goes wrong. He shouldn't dream much for hopeless cases.

"Hey, shooting star," you call. He arches a brow at the nickname, but you ignore him. "Do you love me?"

"Would you hate me if I do?"

"You're dating my best friend, so of course, fuck you." You chuckle, shaking your head. "I hate myself more, so don't take it personally."

You meet his gaze, and the world shifts yet again just like at that moment in the coffee shop — angel boy, uninspired poet. He looked at you the same way he did weeks ago at the New Year's Party, that in the way his eyes are saying so many words for him to not be in love with you. Except now, he's much closer. Except now, in the confinements of his car, nobody to witness but the sea and the stars, he's leaning in and his breath is tickling your skin.

Except now, he's about to kiss you and you're not stopping him.

I can't, the rational part of you whispered. You say that you can't, but you're almost always on the edge of something and you're brave enough to consider through the guilt; you hate to admit it but that's the truth. You say that you can't, but at the same time, you don't draw yourself away from him — why?

Because in each and every one of this I can't's is the nasty truth that reads I want to.

You look at the water, and you chase your thoughts out with a dive. Jaemin's lips are still hovering above yours, and maybe if you weren't so numb you'd feel his heartbeat. You want to tear away, you want to run home and make a call and cry a litany of apologies. You want so much. You want so much, but what you want the most at the moment is for him to do what you can't and just kiss you already — you'd rather break yourself than not have this.

You close your eyes and decide that whatever will come tomorrow is something you deserve. You'll break your heart and ruin your world just for a kiss, and he'll leave — but you'll know that for a while he loved you and everything else is forgotten. You choose him and you forget all the consequences.

Just for once, just tonight. Just right now you'll let yourself indulge. Just this time he can have everything.

Right before your lips crash, you catch yourself and swim.

"Would you give me what I want, because you love me?"

Your words come out raspy, your eyes glistening with tears. Jaemin smiles in a manner just as heartbreaking, "What do you want?"

Not him — dear moon, I want him so bad, but I can't — definitely not him.

"I want fire so hot it burns away all the bad thoughts in my head." You suppress a sob as you move away, leaning back on the seat, clutching the fabric of your clothes as if to search for any semblance of sanity. "I want light so bright I forget you."

"What… what?"

You look at him with pure misery, "I think we should stop seeing each other."

Jaemin doesn't reply, but he starts up the car and makes a turn. You close your eyes hoping that everything could just be washed away by the rain, and you don't look at him for the rest of the drive.

###

Never in your life did you even think of living life without your best friend. That just can't happen, and so, why give it a thought, right? You're with him all the time, and he's been there since you can remember, and it wouldn't make sense if one day you wake up and he's all too suddenly not there anymore. You're certain that he's not going anywhere, and even if you're unsure of what the future holds, you aren't so worried.

If you knew, maybe you should have been.

"Hyuck?"

"Are you gonna remind me of the time I almost drowned and you told me you'll kill me if I die?"

"I'm leaving."

The traces of his previous chuckles disappear, and it seems like a movie scene with the way yours bloom tragically as you watch colored lights reflect on his skin. Then, as if sunrise, a slow smile etches on his face. A brief moment of regret and pain crosses his eyes before love overtakes it.

"You don't have to." He murmurs, sight still cast at the sea. Both his hands are tucked in his pockets in such a leisure way, and then he casually peers at you, "You don't have to leave because I'm not mad."

The sea makes the wind blowing even colder, and suddenly, the docks that used to warm you with sunlight feels cold as snow.

He knows... of course, he knows. Donghyuck saw your iridescence from every side and he knew how everything looked by heart; of course, he knew, he's your best friend, after all. Oh, how evil you are. How evil you are for loving the boy who belongs with him. How evil you are that even after that, Donghyuck reaches for your hands and you let him hold you; you let him smile at you sweetly, you let him calm you still.

"How can I even get mad at you? I love you more than anything in this world," he chuckles, and it breaks your heart. "You're my best friend and I'll give Jaemin up if I have to, if that will make you happy."

If that will make you happy... if it will make me happy... why did I do that to you, love? How did I manage to... oh, sweet heavens.

"You're all I need forever," you answer weakly, breathless and breathing all the same in his hug. It's your way of saying no, absolutely no, your sadness would never make me happy. You thank the high heavens that he couldn't see your face and the pain in it when you whisper, "But at the moment, this is what I need. Distance."

The first tear falls from Donghyuck's eyes, and the sudden drizzle of rain washes it off him. You look up to him and see longing, wondering just why it had to be this way, almost begging you you stay. He looked like he's about to send the world away if it meant that you won't have to leave, but the truth burns down to your determination, that he always admired: you have made your mind and there's no stopping you. You know what is best for yourself, and Donghyuck trusts you.

Set yourself free, Donghyuck whispers before he walks home. After that, please come back to me.

###

When you meet Jaemin ten hours before you leave, he's standing at the very same place Donghyuck was the day before. He's wearing a similar jacket, standing in a similar manner, looking just as beautiful against the water. The only thoughts running inside your head is how perfect they are.

"Jaemin."

Not even 'shooting star' anymore.

He turns at the call of his name, and you're still standing on both of your feet, but it feels like diving deep. His skin reflects the very same lights Donghyuck's did, but it looked kind of different — be it red or yellow, white or the shadows; everything looked midnight blue. It feels like standing on a cliff and almost tipping over, eternally almost tipping over and falling into blue nothingness.

Jaemin smiles, not happy but breaking. It makes you hold your breath.

He laughs, "Don't break my heart."

"In the next life." Because it's all that you could have. You return his smile, "I hope I deserve you in the next life."

His laughter rings in your ear, but it doesn't make you laugh at all; instead, it makes you want to sob or scream or just hurt, yet again, to savor the pain because he doesn't want you to but it's all he could give. It feels claustrophobic to align in a way that's everything meeting with your soulmate should be, with someone who's not your soulmate. Or you are indeed soulmates, but not the ones destined to be together like that. Just two wholes that compliment each other but are meant to be torn apart.

"I just said don't break my heart, what did you do?" He tries to crack a joke, walking the last step to be closer to you. He tilts his head in that charming way, "Why did I fall in love with you?"

"Hey, Jaem... you're not. Forget that. Love him." You shake your head, fixing the collar of his shirt, an excuse for one last guiltless touch. Your voice breaks, "He's my best friend. I love him more than the world."

And just as he is to me, I would rather let you go and make him happy, you smiled at yourself. I'd rather you make each other happy.

"I know." he croaks out, a fragile smile on his face. "In the next life?"

You try to imagine a life where Jaemin isn't haunting your thoughts; you can't. For a moment, you fear meeting someone else and not being able to love them because they're not him. You fear that they'd be kinder, softer, gentler than Jaemin and you won't be able to love them back because oh, Jaemin was just right; he was too much but in a way where it's just enough — Jaemin who looks at you like you hold galaxies, Jaemin who would risk the world, Jaemin who is with your best friend. The doomed play goes on and you think again of a life where he isn't what you desperately love, and realize that indeed, hopefully, in the next life.

In the next life, because this love feels right but it's not. In the next life, because it's painful but you'll love him still again and again and again until your stars finally agree.

"In the next life." You nod, fingers clenching on the straps of your bag. You look at the ocean ahead of you, and the lights it reflects, and then you close your eyes as you feel the wind.

"Until then, shooting star."

—

yellow tags 💛

coffee shop

untitled1

[rockinggirl06]

TRULY MADLY DEEPLY 💕

✨A Jily Songfic Oneshot✨

Wattpad + Tumblr Masterlist

Likes liked ! Reblogs adored ! Comments LOVED ! + Stealing is a crime !

Warnings: none ! Pure beautiful fluff !

Note: I highly recommend keeping the song on repeat on Spotify while reading the oneshot =)

- -

A one-shot inspired by and about Jily's wedding night and after. A James POV in verse. A Lily POV in chorus.

- -

Am I asleep, am I awake, or somewhere in between?

The boy woke up from his slumber. Shaking his head, he tried to recollect the memories of the night before. A cheeky grin enveloped his features as the thoughts of the day before flooded his mind.

I can't believe that you are here and lying next to me

His eyes fell upon the redheaded angel-like face, her chest heaving slightly up and down with every breath. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair which seemed more untidy than ever due to last night's.. *ahem* activities.

Or did I dream that we were perfectly entwined?

Was this it? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had it all been a dream? He already found it hard to believe that the girl had actually agreed to go out with him in seventh year..

Like branches on a tree, or twigs caught on a vine?

And now she was under his sheets. His sheets.

Like all those days and weeks and months I tried to steal a kiss

The uncountable times James Fleamont Potter had confessed his undying love for her to which she would just roll her eyes at the boy's childishness. All those times he tried to steal a kiss during their little studying sessions and how she simply would playfully stick out her tongue at him.

And all those sleepless nights and daydreams where I pictured this,

His three mates had grown tired of hearing the lovesick boy's mutterings about how he'd one day marry her. And his parchment and quills were also very  aware of the boy's hopelessness as random doodles with her name entwined always found their way on the corners of essays.

I'm just the underdog who finally got the girl

And there she was. The girl he had chased for as long as he can remember. Bright fiery red hair with a fiery personality to match: Lily Evans.

Potter now, actually.

And I am not ashamed to tell it to the world

The way he spinned her around wih glee when she nodded a tearful yes, the way a certain professor had gotten a wedding invitation with a "PS. I told you she loved me, Minnie." And the way he had sang louder than anyone else in the shower that day possibly making the entire Gryffindor house aware of his joy. The boy was head over heels in love, and well, she was falling too.

---

Truly, madly, deeply, I am

And he was on his knee. A gasp escaped from her mouth. This was the moment. Their moment. All her subtle stolen glances at him and the way he made her heart flutter everytime a teasing 'Evans' drawed from his lips.. all of that had lead to this. Tears lined her eyes as she nodded a yes.

Foolishly, completely falling

As a friendship blossomed between the destined pair, they took on their head boy and head girl duties. Potter had stopped with his continual display of affections to the girl and yet now the girl had started falling. Hard. Maybe she always liked him along the way. And it definitely didn't help how much taller and handsome he had grown over the summer.

And somehow you kicked all my walls in

And one day she couldn't help herself. On a patrol as usual as ever, she pinned the boy against the wall and kissed him. All those walls set up came crashing down as their lips crashed.

So baby, say you'll always keep me

After breaking apart, a red hue similar to her hair took over her corsage as the boy simply grinned in amusement and euphoria, and teased, "Alright there, Evans?"

Did she really hate the messy haired boy with the glasses? Nah she didn't.

Truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love with you

With all the roses and candles the boy had set up at their first night together as husband and wife, she couldn't have asked for anything else. And here she was remembering the events of last night where she had pulled his body into hers and made love as he kissed each and every one of her freckles softly.

In love with you

She was truly in love. In crazy, stupid, cliché, cheesy but beautiful love.

---

Should I put coffee and granola on a tray in bed?

She lay beside him and for the first time, he was confused. What was he supposed to do?? Prepare her breakfast? That would please her, right? His father always cooked for his mother. And he definitely could make a mean omelette.

And wake you up with all the words that I still haven't said?

But would that be the newly wed "husband" thing to do? Maybe he should wake her up murmuring sweet things in her ear? But on the other hand, the last time he woke her up, he'd gotten himself punched square in the jaw. And Evans —Potter! He kept forgetting yet always corrected himself with a shy smile— was rather strong.

And tender touches, just to show you how I feel

His tense shoulders relaxed as he simply admired the sight before him. Caressing her face, he tucked some of her red locks behind her ear as he placed a soft kiss upon her cheek. He could simply count all the freckles on her face over and over again. He'd never get tired of looking at her.

Or should I act so cool like it was no big deal?

Maybe he should just get up and shower. Did girls like it when boys made fuss about this or not? Well, then again, it was their wedding night. All doubts from his head were washed away as she gave a small smile and leaned into the touch of his hand which lay caressing her cheek. Maybe he'd just stay here for a few more moments, he decided.

Wish I could freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this

And to think everyone in the wizarding work knew we were on the brink of war. No! He refused to think of that right now. 'Live in the moment,' his best friend had always told him. And that's what he did. He snuggled closer towards the girl, putting an arm over her gently, and pulled her flush against his bare chest.

I'll put this day back on replay and keep reliving it

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and her sweet flowery scent consumed his senses. Their bodies entangled together beautifully and he couldn't think of a better day to start a day. He could now. He would now wake up every day to the love of his life. Maybe until when they were 100. Yeah, yeah he definitely would, the boy declared in his thoughts.

'Cause here's the tragic truth if you don't feel the same

People might consider it rather childish: the way he would confess his love for her ever since their third year. But he truly meant every love confession to her growing up. Maybe it was the sweet tinkling sound of her laughter, or her adorable pout whenever Flitwick assigned extra homework or Merlin, it was probably that one time she flirted with him after a Quidditch Match which caused him to become infatuated with her forever.

My heart would fall apart if someone said your name

And he truly loved her so much, words were never enough to describe it. He really hoped she felt the same.

---

And truly, madly, deeply, I am

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid." She meant that actually. James Potter was definitely an arrogant toerag. But that's the thing. He was.

Somewhere along the way, the prideful egotistic boy had become a caring and proper man.  Her green eyes couldn't help but linger on him more as his usual bullying time was replaced by maturity. That time turned into taking care of his werewolf friend, or even time for comforting his best friend who cried into his arms in the corner of the common room some nights.

And soon enough, a friendship blossomed between the unlikely pair of the redhead and the brunet.

Foolishly, completely falling

And sooner it turned into more..

"Ariel, Ariel uh- let down your window?" One night, a rather confused whisper came from Lily's bedroom window. With a startle the girl rushed to slide up the windowpane and was met with the lopsided grin and the familiar hazel eyes with a playful twinkle looking back at her. "Potter!" She shook her head with a chuckle as she allowed him in. "Evans.. I missed you, okay?" he drawed out sheepishly as he gently pulled her closer by her waist. Heat rose to her cheeks as she looked up at him.

And somehow you kicked all my walls in

The boy leaned down towards her lips unable to resist the girl any longer but Lily turned away at the last moment (resulting a rather sad pout on the boy's lips) as she heard her name being called downstairs. "Lily! Next time your boyfriend wants to visit at 12 am, tell him to use the door, okay? My rose bushes are ruined!!"

So baby, say you'll always keep me

And now she was waking up beside him.

She meekly opened her right eye to see if her husband —yes, husband she reminded herself proudly—was still asleep. A lazy smile on his lips, she was greeted with a drawl in his low morning voice, "Good morning, Evans."

Truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love with you

His infuriating smirks had now grown into breathtaking smiles. And he gave her one right now earning a blush upon the girl's cheeks. In his arms and close was exactly where Lily wanted to be. She smiled back endearing and simply looked at him with awe, treasuring the moment, before closing the distance between them. As she pecked his soft lips, she murmured into them, 'Potter, actually."

She was his and him, hers.

All was well.

Anyone catch the ending words reference? The first time I heard this song some months ago (maybe even a year oop—) , I just knew it SCREAMED #Jily. And so here I am finally writing and publishing this !

Thanks for reading and love you all you beautiful people !

Riri <3

[spicycreativity]

Intertwined - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Content Warnings: It's a hanahaki fic, so. Mild body horror, blood, respiratory illness. (Starts at Ch 3 and gets worse from there).

Characters: All

Pairing: Moceit

Additional Notes: This one was supposed to be Darker and Longer, but turns out I'm not in the headspace to write angst atm, so it ends up moving p fast. Swaps between Janus and Patton's POVs. Post-PoF, light angst. Not whump. They both get hanahaki, but there is absolutely no version of Moceit in my mind where Janus isn't the one who falls first. My AO3 username is WizatdGlick.

Summary: The story of how Janus and Patton find each other at rock bottom and fall in love anyway.

A gentle knock on Janus' door drew him out of his thoughts. He donned a mask of triumph as he rose to open it, straightening his hat as he went. It couldn't be Remus; Remus never knocked so softly, which meant that Janus had to perform. He slid into the role with difficulty, struggling to find the edges of this gloating persona when all he felt was numb and tired and lost.

It was Patton at the door, and Janus felt everything slip, and Patton's eyes lit up with recognition, and all of Janus' resolve fell away in the face of that beseeching gaze.

"Come for another debate?" Janus asked in a low voice, making no effort to hide his ironical smile.

Patton smiled too, though he dropped it a moment too soon. Janus got the distinct impression that Patton was also far too wrung-out to put on any kind of act tonight. "Just came to check on you."

It would be as natural as breathing for Janus to draw back, place his fingertips delicately to his chest, widen his eyes. ' Check on me?' he would say, all faux-innocence, ' Please, Patton, I'm not a child. I don't need your pity.'

But he didn't.

Here was Patton, reaching out, and hadn't that been what Janus had wanted all along? That tiny, fervent flame that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge, that smallest ember of hope that someone might just give him what he was convinced he had to take.

The seconds stretched out until the silence verged on awkward, and Janus' pride stood up to do what his cunning would not: "I'm fine." He was fine, strangely. Not happy, as he perhaps should have been, but nothing hurt.

Patton's brow furrowed. "Am I supposed to believe that?" he asked gently.

Something warm and soft and dangerous bloomed in Janus' chest at Patton's look of confusion. He had freckles on his nose, scattered like spilled cinnamon: a trait assigned by Thomas’ subconscious. "Patton," Janus said, flicking his gaze upwards to meet Patton's eyes. "Would you like to come in?"

"To your room ?" Patton asked, eyes widening. He looked past Janus' shoulder and Janus fought not to move and block Patton's gaze with his body. He had just invited Patton in; there was no point getting shy now. "Won't that, y'know, do something to me?"

"It's just a matter of self-control," Janus said, hoping to get a smile out of Patton.

Sure enough, Patton did smile. "What color is my shirt?"

Janus said, "True blue," and stepped backwards to let Patton in.

It was a risk to bring someone into his room like this, but he felt unusually clear-headed tonight, calm and strangely secure despite the fact he had just let a known enemy past his defenses, and despite the exhaustion that made every breath feel heavy.

"Warm in here," Patton remarked, looking around.

Janus motioned him over to a set of armchairs. To be seen was to be judged, and he wasn't sure what he would do if Patton found him lacking again . "I have a question for you, Patton."

In the low light, the tear tracks on Patton's cheeks glimmered when he tilted his head inquisitively. "You do?"

Janus nodded, slow and calculated. He was sure he already knew the answer to the question, and preemptive anger bubbled thick and hot in his veins. "Who," he said, unable to keep from glaring, "came to check on you?"

"Well," said Patton, "Ah… They don't-- Everyone's upset right now--"

"And you're not?" Janus demanded. "And don't you dare tell me that you're fine." His emotions were running too hot; he needed to check himself, but seeing Patton make excuses filled him with a passion he'd only ever felt on Thomas' behalf.

"I am--"

"Don't."

"But I have to be," Patton whispered. "I can't-- I know they told me… They said it was okay for me to be sad, but--"

"If you fall apart, there's no one there to pick up the pieces," Janus guessed. "Sure, you can be sad, as long as it doesn't interfere with your role."

"Don't be mad at them," Patton pleaded, and Janus realized with a jolt that he would get into no one's good graces by slinging around insults.

"It's just hard," Janus said plainly, only half-noticing the words coming out of his mouth. He had just become aware of a keen and sickening new desire, borne on the back of a newfound respect for Patton that he had even lasted this long without having some sort of spectacular breakdown. Janus' whole chest ached with it, that and the equally sickening knowledge that he had just become horrifically vulnerable, that he had fallen under a spell he could never hope to break.

He saw it in his mind's eye: he saw himself stand and lean over, take Patton's jaw in his hands, kiss him long and deep and slow. He saw himself lay his body and soul bare before Patton, getting on his knees to forgive Patton all his perceived flaws. He meant well, after all. He only ever meant well, and it wasn't really his fault that those good intentions were capable of morphing into a cruel and deadly weapon.

But he would plunge that weapon straight into Janus' heart before their lips could ever even meet. Janus could see it now, Patton pulling away in confusion and disgust. His tenuous patience would give out then and there, and Janus would have no hope of acceptance ever again. Same for Remus, probably. They would remain Dark Sides forever, damned to be eternal outcasts. All thanks to Janus' pathetic inability to control himself.

"Why do you care so much about…" Patton hesitated for a moment and gave a shallow sigh. "Well, about me?"

And now Janus found himself walking a chasm’s edge. His instinct was to lean hard into the opposite of the truth and insult Patton so deeply that he left and never came back. Eliminate the threat. But that wasn't an option now of all times. No, he had to maintain a friendship with Patton, somehow. He had to keep himself under control. How fun. "You're a part of Thomas," Janus said. He paused.

"So are the others."

"You've earned my respect."

"Oh," said Patton. "Wow, um. Gosh, that's…" His lower lip trembled. "I should go," he said in a broken voice.

Janus surveyed him in silent agony, teetering on the precipice of a lie. With a monumental effort, he pulled himself away from it and opened his arms. "Come here."

The floodgates opened. Patton fell into Janus' lap, already sobbing. Janus held him, all his muscles stiff and awkward. He was much smaller in the mindscape than he was in Thomas’ eyes and it was difficult to support Patton’s much larger frame. A sharp pain flared in Janus’ collarbone where Patton had buried his forehead and his tears were already starting to seep through Janus' clothes. He cringed at himself and the absurdity of the situation, wishing he had some way to make it better. He should have had words for this, all the right words to soothe away Patton's worries and set him right again. But he was so tired.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Patton said through shuddering sobs that dug his forehead harder into Janus' clavicle.

"It's okay," Janus said, concentrating hard on keeping the effects of his room at bay.

"Are you--" Patton sniffled " --sure you're okay?"

A rush of affection melted Janus' heart and he sighed and held Patton closer despite the shooting pain in his collarbone and the ache in his arms. Even in the midst of a post-breakdown breakdown, Patton was self-sacrificing (self- destructive) enough to check in on him. "You don't have a selfish bone in your body, do you?" Janus sighed, lamenting Patton’s bleeding heart. For some reason, this only made Patton cry harder. Janus cast his mind back to the last time Remus was this upset, found nothing, had to speculate. He and Remus and Virgil were self-sufficient, secretive. When it came to personal crises, they weathered them alone and bore the aftermath in stoicism. "Do you want me to play with your hair?"

"I don't know," Patton sobbed into Janus' chest.

Janus sighed and began to run his fingers through Patton's honey-colored hair, grateful that the thick material of his gloves kept their skin from touching. It was better this way, and a good reminder for Janus. He guarded his heart so closely for a reason.

 

Janus, despite the discomfort from the awkward weight distribution and the clammy feeling of cooled tears on his shirt, was half-asleep in the chair by the time Patton stopped crying.

"Sorry," Patton said, pulling away, and even with snot and tears all over his flushed cheeks, even with his eyes all red and puffy behind his fogged-up glasses and his hair standing up at strange diagonals from Janus' attempts at comfort, he was radiant.

"For having feelings?" Janus asked, gently imaging himself into a new, dry shirt.

"For making them your problem." Patton took his glasses off and began to polish them on the hem of his own shirt.

"Patton, I need you to know this." Janus waited until Patton looked at him before continuing, "I owe you nothing. If I had wanted you to leave, I would have asked you to leave and thought nothing of it."

Patton nodded and went back to polishing his glasses. They were silent for a long moment, during which Janus found himself unable to suppress a series of yawns. It must have been around 4:00 in the morning by this point. They had to have been the only ones awake.

"Hey, Janus," Patton said, finally putting his glasses back on. "You know The Breakfast Club?"

"Yes," Janus said distractedly, trying to figure out where Patton was going with this.

"This wasn't our version of that, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"When tomorrow comes and we're back to, to some sort of normal… You'll still be my friend, right?"

Now here was a situation Janus had never once envisioned for himself. He had pictured winning over Roman, had pictured gaining Thomas' support. Never once had he expected real friendship with any of them, let alone Patton. "Yes," he said, feeling sick at the irony of it. He had been comfortable as Patton's enemy, was now yearning for his kiss… How could he be friends with Patton when he burned like this for Patton's wholehearted affection? Was he really just supposed to endure it?

Patton smiled, so sweet and earnest that Janus had to bite down on his tongue. "Good," he said. "Speaking of, do you wanna have breakfast with me?"

"Not right now, I hope," Janus teased.

"No, no, not right now." Patton muffled a yawn into his sleeve. "I guess I'd better go."

Janus nodded. "See you in the morning?"

"Um," said Patton, who didn't appear to have been listening. "Thank you, Janus. You didn't have to-- Well, thank you."

He sank out without another word.

Janus imagined himself into his pajamas, imagined the lights off and threw himself onto his bed. "Fuck."

 

--

 

Frigid air seeped from the hallway seeped under the crack where Janus' door stopped just short of the carpet. He didn't allow himself to notice, and continued to put his outfit on piece by agonizing piece. The cold air made his joints slow and achy, and he struggled to get the clasps done up. It was just as well that he hadn't put on his gloves yet. He had become quite adept at handling things while wearing them, but for this task, the bulky fabric would only get in the way. After all, just like his singular snake fang, his gloves were for aesthetics, not function.

Finally, he donned his hat and faced the door, forced to confront that fatal truth: He could never have what he wanted. The moment he had achieved his goal of Thomas’ acceptance, the triumph had slipped away in his hands to be replaced with a truly unattainable goal.

Memories from last night, the phantom sensation of Patton in his arms, teased him until he had to sneer at himself. Pathetic. He was acting pathetic. Falling for Patton was strategically inadvisable, even if he couldn’t help it, but actively pursuing him was out of the question. It was all-risk, no reward. Still, his treacherous heart fluttered, teasing him with the thought of Patton’s lips on his own, Patton’s hands on his body, sharing heat, deepening the kiss--

“All risk,” Janus said out loud to himself, “no reward.” A mantra to see him through. He opened his door, his gloved hand slipping a little on the polished brass of his doorknob, and nearly walked straight into Remus as he passed by with an armful of dismembered dolls.

“Well,” said Janus, tilting his head to better examine the pile of plastic limbs and bodies in Remus’ arms, “I won’t ask what you’re up to.” He stifled a yawn behind his hand, visualizing a piping hot cup of coffee. A shudder wrecked his concentration and he frowned. “Are you the reason it’s so cold in here?”

Remus ignored the question, his feverish eyes darting from Janus’ mouth to his hand to his face. “I knew you were up late last night. That’s why I came this way.” He gave a crooked but strangely boyish grin. “I wanted to know where you’d gotten off to. Or who you’d gotten off with. ”

Janus, to his horror, blushed. Fragmented images flashed through his head-- What if he had kissed Patton? And Patton had kissed back? Mask, mask, mask! “I was spreading the Gospel.”

“You were spreading something , though, weren’t you?” Remus shifted the dolls in his arms and held up a masculine torso. “I know I heard Big Daddy’s voice. Play a little game of Patton- Snake , did you?”

Janus swore he could hear porcelain cracking as his heart began to race. “In all seriousness, Remus, we did reach an agreement.”

“Sounds like you reached more than that.” Remus waggled his tongue.

God, he was relentless when he was on the scent of something. Janus hid his face behind his hands, realizing a moment too late that this display of shame would only add fuel to the fire. So he took the only option left and muttered, “Boundaries,” into his palms.

“Oh,” said Remus, leaning back on his heels. “ Oh. Janus, you didn’t .”

“Of course we didn't!” Janus hissed, dropping his hands.

"But you wanted to?"

“How much did you hear yesterday, anyway?”

“Oh, I heard the whole debacle, including that heartwarming little moment at the end,” Remus said, rocking forward onto his toes. “Thanks for putting in a good word for me, by the way.”

They fell into an awkward silence as Janus once again reached for words that simply weren’t there. “I didn’t mean it,” he said finally, cursing himself.

“No?” said Remus. “Not even a teeny tiny little bit?” He poked Janus in the chest with the plastic torso, still clenched in his left hand. “Right here?”

“You,” said Janus, “are just as evil as I am.”

Remus backed off with a grin, leaving Janus in doubt that he had ever even been angry in the first place. “So where are you off to now? Roman’s got this place awfully cold; gonna go warm Patton’s snake?”

“You already made a ‘Patton snake’ joke,” Janus said, slamming another mask onto his face to hide his blush. “But to answer your question, he asked me to join him for breakfast.”

“Aww.” Remus wiped fake tears from his cheeks. “You better not start spending too much time with him or I’m going to get jealous.”

[viscountessevie]

To Lady Paige, With Love [Part 2]

Main Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton x FemOC! Paige Crane [Reference to Past! Marina Thompson x Paige Crane]

Series Summary: A WLW Rewrite of To Sir Phillip, With Love - featuring my OC Paige Crane, Phillip's twin sister. What happens when Eloise Bridgerton writes to Phillip after the death of his wife but her letter gets intercepted by his twin sister who loved more Marina than he ever did?

Chapter Summary: After corresponding with Eloise for over a year using her brother's name, Paige is mourning Marina's first death anniversary. All Paige wanted was some peace and quiet but little does she know, she's in for a rude awakening

Trigger Warnings: Grief, Brief Mentions of Previous Death/Suicide Attempt, Depression & Anxiety

Part 1 - Prologue: Take Me To The Lakes

Chapter 1: Right Where You Left Me [February 1823]

5:48pm. That time would haunt Paige for the rest of her life.

'Time of death: 5:48pm.' the doctor had said. The moment Marina was officially pronounced dead, Paige screamed. She could still hear the echoes of her own scream every night she spent in Marina's room, sobbing herself to sleep. It had been a month since she died. Paige truly understood what Marina felt and went through.

The grief, pain and sadness was all consuming. She was drowning in her own emotions. It made her want to throw herself into the lake and join Marina. At least drowning in the lake was tangible. It was a tangible way to match the melancholy she was feeling. Through the pain, Paige had learnt that when people take their lives, they don't get rid of the melancholy, they simply pass it on. Paige had become a victim of Marina's pain being passed onto her.

She knew that everyone was dealing with the loss on their own but she was just so angry with Phillip and the children and even the staff. Pretending like Marina was never there. The worst part is, she couldn't fault them for it. Marina wasn't there, at least not mentally present. The last month has eased off her anger. She nearly bit Phillip's head off when he came back from his business trip the day before she passed.

"You should have been here! I may love her but she's still your wife!"

"I had a very important specimen to pick up, you know that, Paige." He said gruffly. She was so sick and tired of him using his experiments as an excuse to neglect his family.

"I know that!" She snapped at him, "These trips are getting ridiculous. You can't keep using them to run away from your responsibilities. You made a commitment to her and your children. You completely abandoned them!" Her voice cracked with anger. Now Phillip was getting frustrated with her and snapped back at his twin.

"Do you think I wanted to carry those burdens? I had no choice in the matter! I had to be the one to clean up the mess George left behind!"

She stepped back at her brother's outburst. He never yelled. He refused to be their father. She knew she had crossed the line. She softened her expression.

"I shouldn't have yelled, I apologise. But so help me God, you will not repeat that to her or the children. They are our family, Phillip, 'not a mess George left behind." Her voice was low, laced with a cold fury.

"She's resting now but you should go see her. I'll give you two some privacy." Paige made her suggestion sound like a demand. There was absolutely no reason why he should neglect his duties as a husband now. She wasn't going to let him off the hook for it. She quickly slipped into the room to kiss Marina's forehead. She allowed Philip in and headed off to tend to the children.

Then there was that dreadful conversation where Amanda openly admitted that she was glad her mother was gone. Paige knew on an intellectual level that's not what Amanda had meant. She meant she was happy her mother was happy even if it meant she was gone. But emotionally, it destroyed Paige to hear that.

It was exhausting to feel like the only one who truly cared for Marina. She had all these emotions welled up inside her, screaming to be let out. Yet she felt like she couldn't talk to anyone. The children played and carried on as per normal. While Phillip had stopped taking his trips to avoid the children, he has hidden away in the Greenhouse more often. He refuses to talk about her. What else could she expect from her twin who represses the slightest hint of human emotion. God forbid he let himself feel sad.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that everyone processed grief in different ways. She needed something to get her mind off things. On cue, Miles came in to deliver the mail. She gestured for him to hand them over and he took his leave.

She flipped through the envelopes, none addressed to her. Of course no one would write to her and the only person who would, died. She was about to put down the pile when a name jumped out at her.

From: Eloise Bridgerton No. 5, Bruton Street London

She remembered Eloise like it was yesterday. They spent some time together during their first season. She came as a package deal with Penelope Featherington. So when Marina had struck up a friendship with Penelope, Paige found herself spending a lot of time with the two of them. The four of them were quite the formidable group during that first season. Paige remembered how many suitors Marina had received. Unable to deal with her jealousy in a healthy manner, she did what she did best, ran away from her emotions. She poured herself into a friendship with Eloise. Somewhere along the way, she had developed feelings for the clever Bridgerton. She recalled how she did her best to repress those feelings. Even though at the time, Marina and her were nowhere close to courtship, Paige still felt like she was being unfaithful to her.

There was just something about Eloise that had drawn Paige to her.

She shook her head rather violently, as if trying to shake those memories away. How could she be thinking of that when she's supposed to be grieving Marina? She set down the letter, leaving it for Phillip to read it later when he finally comes out of hiding.

She stood up to head to Marina's room to mope. It almost seemed like she had taken Marina's place as the Romney Hall's living ghost. What was the point in living your life when the person you wanted to spend it with was gone?

But rising questions about Eloise's letter stopped her. For one, why was it addressed to Phillip rather than her? She knew it had been well over a decade, but had Eloise forgotten her already?

Her plan to mope for the day had been abandoned and she picked up Eloise's letter once again. She picked up the letter opener and impulsively ripped it open.

Sir Phillip Crane —

I am writing to express my condolences on the loss of your wife, my dear friend Marina, I remember her fondly and was deeply saddened to hear of her passing .

Please do not hesitate to write if there is anything I can do to ease your pain at this difficult time .

Yrs,

Miss Eloise Bridgerton

***

Oh. She was just as lovely as Paige remembered her. This was too kind of a letter to delay it's response. Paige went to her room and sat at her desk. She pulled out her stationary kit and fetched herself some parchment and a quill. She quickly penned down a response.

Dear Eloise —

I hope you remember me from your first season. Marina was a dear friend to me as well and I thank you for your kind note on behalf of Marina. It was thoughtful of you to write asking after us.

I offer you this flower attached as thanks. It is called an Eden rose also known as the Pierre de Ronsard, named after the great French poet.

Did you know that it reaches an average diameter of 10 centimetres. The large flowers are very full with 55 to 60 petals. Due to their weight the cupped, globular flowers tend to bow their heads.

It was Marina's favourite flower. She loved the carmine-pink on the inside and ivory on the outside. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did.

Sincerely -

*

She stopped short before she signed it off with her name. She had finally stepped out of her moment of impulsivity. Insanity more like, she thought to herself. She felt awful for invading Eloise and - by extension - Phillip's privacy.

She couldn't send this! How was she going to explain it?

*

Dear Miss Bridgerton —

I am absolutely mad and stole my brother's mail because I used to fancy you when we first debuted together in our first season.

Yours Sincerely, Paige Crane

That would certainly go over well. She would be lucky not to be locked up. She stared at her original letter and ripped it up. She detested the thought of Phillip striking up a friendship with Eloise. Deep down she knew if he became as enamoured with her as she once was, he'd make her his wife. It might have only been a month but she knew her brother. He needed a mother and wife for the children. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he was already planning to look for one.

He had already taken Marina from her. As twins, they grew up sharing everything, starting from the womb. Everywhere Paige went, Phillip was there. They even had parallel careers. She just wanted this one person to herself. It was selfish she knew but she wanted to keep her London past for herself. Even if it meant never letting Phillip see the letter and responding on her own.

She rewrote another note without a second thought:

Dear Miss Bridgerton,

Thank you for your kind note on behalf of my wife. It was thoughtful of you to take the time to write to a gentleman you have never met. I offer you this full bloom flower as thanks.

It is called an Eden rose also known as the Pierre de Ronsard, named after the great French poet. Did you know that it reaches an average diameter of 10 centimetres. The large flowers are very full with 55 to 60 petals. Due to their weight the cupped, globular flowers tend to bow their heads.

It was Marina's favourite flower. She loved the carmine-pink on the inside and ivory on the outside. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did.

When it came to signing off, she hesitated for a moment at her dishonesty. Then the anger of having lost most of her life and identity to Phillip came up. That was motivation enough for her to scribble the last line of the letter:

Sincerely, Sir Phillip Crane.

***

Letter Correspondence From March 1823 to March 1824 Between Paige Crane & Eloise Bridgerton

Dear Sir Phillip -

Thank you so very much for the charming flower. It was such a lovely surprise when it came attached to the envelope. And such a precious memento of dear Marina, as well .

I could not help but notice your facility with the flower's scientific name and seemed to be knowledgeable about its properties. Are you a botanist?

Yours, Miss Eloise Bridgerton

*

Eloise’s response had come quite quickly in a week. It was no easy feat hiding the letters from Phillip. He was the Lord of the house after all. Paige was lucky enough to have a friend in Miles. She had been the one to stop Phillip from being let go. She had named him her personal assistant instead. She coyly asked Miles for a favour and requested that all of Eloise’s letters be directed to her. He looked at her with utter confusion when she asked.

“Whatever are you up to, Miss Crane?”

“Miles, you know you can call me Paige. We are friends, aren’t we?” She had a mischievous shine in her eye that told him she was up to something.

“I suppose… that doesn’t answer my question, Paige.” He said her name pointedly. She chuckled at him, he was hilarious. She knew she made the right choice keeping him employed.

“Friends trust each other. I promise I will tell you everything down the line.” She shot him a look of promise. That fixed the issue of being found out was solved easily. All she had to do now was enjoy the correspondence.

She still had not been able to break her habit of crying herself to sleep in Marina’s room every night, but these letters took her mind off the grief momentarily. She couldn’t thank Eloise Bridgerton enough for that. She read back Eloise’s response and grinned. Eloise was as charming and eloquent as always. She was clever enough to pick out Paige's interest in plants just by her rambles. Paige also noticed how Eloise was clever enough to end her letter with a question. What a sneaky lady, now Paige had to reply. Not that she was complaining. She was rather happy to have revived this old connection.

She pulled out her stationary and penned her reply. She stuck close to the truth while using Phillip's qualifications. Just because she wasn't allowed a formal education at Cambridge didn't make her any less knowledgeable than her twin. She devoured his textbooks during his University days. She most likely would have beat him to an honours degree in Botany had the fairer sex been allowed to study in Universities.

She followed Eloise's lead and ended her letter with a question as well. She vaguely remembered Eloise’s interest in humanities but she wanted it confirmed from the lady herself.

*

Dear Miss Bridgerton —

Indeed I am a botanist, trained at Cambridge, although I am not currently connected with any university or scientific board. I maintain my own garden at Romney Hall, in my greenhouse. Are you of a scientific bent as well?

Yours , Sir Phillip Crane

The reply came another week later. She smiled at being correct in her assumption. They started going back and forth every week, until a year had passed.

*

Dear Sir Phillip —

Heavens, no, I have not the scientific mind, I'm afraid, although I do have a fair head for sums. My interests lie more in the humanities; you may have noticed that I enjoy penning letters .

Yours in friendship,

Eloise Bridgerton

*

My dear Miss Bridgerton —

Ah, but it is a sort of friendship, isn't it? I confess to a certain measure of isolation here in the country, and if one cannot have a smiling face across one's breakfast table, then one might at least have an amiable letter, don't you agree?

I have enclosed another flower and a book for you. This flower is Centaurea cyanus, more commonly known as the cornflower. They are a personal favourite of mine, especially for its vibrance in colour. They are actually grown as a weed in cornfields, hence where it derives its common name from. Quite beautiful for a weed, wouldn’t you agree?

As for the book, I would like to share a piece of my literary heart with you. You will find a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in the package. I regard it as a brilliantly complex novel that tackles the existential questions of creating life in such an nuanced manner. I would love to hear your thoughts on it.

With great regard, Phillip Crane

*

Even though it was a friendly exchange of letters, Paige considered sharing her favourite flower and novel a way of elevating the friendship. They were a part of her identity. A part that she was willingly giving away to another to cherish and hold. It was a big step for her and that terrified her. She was scared of developing feelings for someone else. She could not bear to go through it again.

She knew no sane woman - despite being a child of Sappho - would give up the security of a husband and run off with another woman. Most of the sapphic women Paige knew were far too caught up in the social norms to ever step out of their comfort zone into a realm of possibilities of a free life with her. She knew she got lucky with Marina and that Phillip didn’t care enough for Marina to be bothered with their love affair. He also loved his sister enough to be happy with his wife, even if he didn’t understand how she could love a person who seemed to be made of sadness. Paige knew he never understood, but he didn’t have to. Marina and her understood each other and that’s all that truly mattered until the end.

While Eloise has never stated whether she felt that way about women, she did seem like a child of Sappho. The way she had interacted with potential suitors during that first season, or rather the way she didn’t. She hid away from every suitor that came her way. At times, she would pull Paige away to the lemonade table to avoid them, whenever Penelope was too busy dancing with Colin. The way she scoffed at marriage. She just seemed content in her independence. Paige had admired that about her.

*

As always her next letter did not disappoint:

Dear Sir Phillip —

Thank you for the book and flower, I truly appreciated them. I have always found sharing books recommendations with companions is like giving them a piece of yourself. So I thank you again, for gifting me a piece of yourself. I promise to cherish it.

And I have read Frankenstein before! It truly is one of its kind. I could go on for hours on end about how much I love this book and how brilliantly crafted it is. Perhaps, should we ever meet, we could discuss it over tea one day.

The cornflower was wonderful, thank you. I do love how it seems to shine a brighter blue in the sunlight. I think it might be my favourite flower as well.

Yours, Eloise Bridgerton.

A dreamy sigh escaped Paige’s lips as she drank in Eloise’s latest words. Paige had never felt more seen and understood. Eloise expressed the sentiment of Paige’s intent with the book and flower exactly. Paige might have used her brother’s name, but she knew in her heart Eloise knew her - even if it was not by her given name. She found the line about meeting and discussing the novel over tea, a rather bold choice. Was Eloise inviting her to tea?

She sighed when the sobering truth hit her. Eloise wasn’t inviting her. She was inviting her brother. She knew what she had to do - politely shut her down.

Dearest Miss Bridgerton —

You took the words right out of my quill. Those were my exact intentions when I thought of sending my favourite flower and book over to you. I am very much honoured that you cherish an important part of myself. I truly appreciate it. Truth be told, I appreciate you and our friendship.

Perhaps, one day. Tea does sound lovely.

What mischief have you been causing as of late? I am always excited to read your recounts of your daily adventures.

Yours as always, Phillip Crane. * Over the next few months simply flew by for Paige, the letters giving her a reprieve from her grief. They talked about anything and everything under the sun. She learned everything there is to know about Eloise Bridgerton. They exchanged childhood stories, more books between the two of them - Paige found out that Eloise’s guilty pleasure was Jane Austen’s romance novels - and held full conversations of various academic subjects. Her most prized possession was Eloise’s old copy of Persuasion filled with Eloise’s notes and thoughts on the book. Paige’s heart soared the moment she received it. It was Eloise’s version of giving Paige a piece of herself. She hadn’t read Persuasion before so she was glad for the recommendation. The botanist couldn’t help but laugh as she read the novel. Anne and Captain Wentworth’s story seemed to mirror hers. Their 7 year separation felt rather familiar to having not seen Eloise since their first season.

Before she knew it, a year had passed. She was startled when she saw the calendar on her desk when penning her latest letter to Eloise. 14th February 1824. It was the day Marina attempted to kill herself a year ago. Tomorrow would be a year since Marina’s last good day. And two days from now, on 17th February 1824, Paige would have to be met with the sobering reality of Marina’s death anniversary.

The holidays had been hard as it could be. The empty chair Marina had previously occupied was staring at Paige while her family carried on with their jovial Christmas dinner. She couldn’t understand how they could simply get on with their lives while she felt like a piece of her was missing. Yes, Marina was not much for festivities but sitting beside her and enjoying the food they cooked together was the highlight of Christmas. It was the only time Marina felt well enough to help Paige prepare the feast.

Marina’s birthday had been the hardest to deal with of course. She would have been twenty and eight then. Paige visits Marina's grave at least once a week. It calms and soothes her intense moments of grief. Sitting by the grave on Marina's birthday was a new kind of pain. Knowing that she was taken from the world far too early. Knowing that she should have been there right beside Paige. It was the hardest Paige had cried since Marina had died.

She had no idea how she was going to deal with her death anniversary.

She just knew she needed time to herself. She looked down at the letter she was going to write and found big splashes of tears all over the parchment.

"Blast it!" She cursed and crushed the paper, tossing it into a nearby bin. She was furious with herself for forgetting. For allowing herself to be happy when she didn’t deserve it. She wiped her tears angrily and quickly scribbled one last letter to Eloise.

Dear Miss Bridgerton —

These letters have brought me such comfort over a very difficult year. I cannot thank you enough for it, Eloise Bridgerton.

I do regret to inform you, I would like to pause these letters for the month. I require some time to process and mourn Marina's first death anniversary. I'm sure you can understand it will be a rather difficult time.

Thank you for understanding and do take care, Miss Bridgerton.

Yours, Phillip Crane

Paige could barely get through the letter without feeling guilty. Feeling guilty for abandoning Eloise so abruptly. Feeling guilty for using her as a distraction from her grief over Marina. Most of all, she hated how she can't seem to remember the smallest things about Marina. She was forgetting her love's memory and it was driving her mad. She tried her best to conjure up how she smelled, the sound of her voice, how she was. Paige found the little details escaping her. Memories slipping through her fingers. She detested this. She didn't know how she had gotten to this point.

She had allowed her corresponding flirtation with Eloise to soothe her pain. But her pain was the one thing she had left of Marina. Letting it go meant letting go of Marina. Paige absolutely refused to do that. If she forgot Marina, there was no one else to keep her memory alive. Phillip and the children certainly didn't care for it. Marina would be lost to history.

*

After delivering the letter to Miles to be mailed out, Paige found herself in Marina's room. She laid on her bed, aimlessly and feeling vacant. She was sure if someone walked in they might mistake her for Marina herself. Paige felt her melancholy creeping up her throat. It threatened to choke her, snuffing all the light out. She sat up and tried to breathe. She was feeling an unusual amount of panic rising within her.

She got out of bed and looked out the window. The lake was in perfect view. Of course, that’s where Marina had gotten the idea, She thought to herself bitterly. She looked up at the sky, imagining her lover was up there somewhere happier. Somewhere calmer, where she had found peace.

“I’m right where you left me, Rina.” She whispered softly. It had been a while since she spoke out loud to Marina but it had brought her so much comfort in the early days of dealing with the grief. For a moment, she could pretend Marina was still there. Then she didn’t have to deal with the all consuming guilt and loneliness that came with losing the love of her life.

Marina might have been the one who died but Paige felt like the ghost. Spending most of her days in Marina's room, sitting still in a corner, almost like she was the one haunting it. She heard what the staff said. Something along the lines of, "What a pitiful sight." And "She deserves better than to replace Lady Marina's disposition." They were valid in their concerns but Paige couldn't care less. This was the way she knew how to grieve and mourn and she'll be damned before she lets anyone dictate the way she feels.

Looking into the reflection of the lake from the window, she could still remember the day Marina walked into the lake. It was terrifying how crystal clear the memory was. It felt like she was frozen in time - forever cursed to be twenty and seven - forced to relive the last few days of Marina's days. The memory of her walking into the lake, Paige having to rescue her, staying by her side the next three days and the moment she died. They swirled around Paige's mind constantly. It was particularly worse since it had been a year.

She was paralysed, unable to find the will to do anything else. So she went back to bed. She sat there, silent and frozen in time. The servants walked past all day to ask her if she was alright. She barely managed a nod.

She swore she could hear a hair pin drop at how silent everything was. Deep down she knew her life stopped the moment Marina had died. Eloise's letters may have made her feel like she could move forward. However, the gaping hole in her heart today proved otherwise.

Everybody moved on. She couldn't. So she settled and stayed there, dust collecting on her pinned-up hair. She knew everyone expected her to find a new purpose or a fresh start. She could have tended to her own garden like Phillip was doing in his Greenhouse on this day.

Yet all she found the energy to do was sit and stare out at the lake. She stayed right there for the next two days. She just wanted the next worst few days of her life to pass her by so she would not have to deal with them. Just until the 17th had passed.

*

Of course as the saying goes, there is no rest for the wicked. All Paige wanted on the 17th of February was some peace but little did she know, a certain Bridgerton would be making their way to Romney Hall.

It started out like any other day. Except for the Crane household, there was a somber remembrance of Marina’s first death anniversary. Paige was relieved that she didn’t have to share the burden alone and that her brother had the decency to acknowledge it. He didn’t bother reminding the children but they were young so she let it slide.

Since the staff had honoured her request of being left alone, around noon Paige dragged herself out of bed to get herself some lunch. Marina would have wanted her to mourn respectfully, not join her up wherever she may be. Paige was on her way back to her room after picking up her meal of roasted mutton with rice and gravy - Marina’s favourite dish - when she overheard a curious conversation between Gunning and her brother.

"Sir Phillip," Gunning said, clearing his throat. "We have a caller." "A caller?" Phillip echoed. "Was that the source of the, ah..." "Noise?" Gunning supplied helpfully. "Yes." "No." The butler cleared his throat. "That would have been your children." "I see," Phillip murmured. "How silly of me to have hoped otherwise." "I don't believe they broke anything, sir." "That's a relief and a change." "Indeed, sir, but there is the caller to consider."

Phillip groaned and Paige immediately knew what he was thinking. Romney Hall hadn’t received callers in years. He was probably wondering who on earth would be calling on this day of all days. Paige didn’t think much of it until she passed the front door on her way up to her room when she spotted a familiar face on the other side of the door.

Eloise Bridgerton.

What in the devil was she doing here?! Paige mentally screamed to herself. Gunning and Phillip’s conversation had faded to the background, drowned out by the mental grind of Paige’s mind. She snapped out of her melancholy and had to come up with a way to cover up the consequences of her actions. Just when she needed it, Miles walked past her. She immediately grabbed him. He looked surprised and a little violated if you asked him.

“Miss Crane! What on earth?” “Miles, how many times must I repeat myself? Paige is perfectly fine. I apologise for grabbing you, I am in need of your service.” She said guiltily, looking over at the front door.

He gave her a curious look, “What did you do now, Paige?” He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

She shot him a glare, “I would snap at you for that but you are quite right to ask. I think one of my letters to Miss Bridgerton might have been misinterpreted as an invitation to come over to Romney Hall.” She gave him such a pitiful pleading look, he had to help her.

“How can I be of service, Miss - Paige?” He corrected himself the moment Paige shot him a murderous look. “I need a plan. If the truth comes out, neither of them will forgive me.”

Miles had never seen her so panicked and scared before. For someone who detests her brother, she really did love him. Her blooming feelings for Miss Bridgerton had become apparent over the last few months. He gave himself a moment to think of a plan.

"Yes, sir. She's here to see you, after all." They both heard Gunning say to Phillip.

Paige looked at Miles with wide eyes. They had officially run out of time. This was sealed by the sounds of Phillip’s footsteps making their way to the corridor Paige and Miles were hatching a plan in. Before Paige could push Miles to distract him, her dear brother had brushed past them and opened the door. She cursed to herself and watched helplessly as the two strangers who had technically never met interacted. She made her way to stand quietly behind her brother, listening to every word. Paige's heart nearly stopped when she heard Eloise's voice after all these years.

"Sir Phillip?"

[thorinthehottotty]

May 15th - Lyn's Writing Event - Thorin

Prompt - mamihlapinatapai

A/N: Part 2 of the Prompt for Beach

Summary: You wake with doubts that your husband truly wanted to consummate your marriage.

Warnings: SMUT, angst

The unfamiliar aspects were a great deal stranger. Like your husband's bare chest beneath your cheek, the harsh curl of his chest hair painfully loud against it. A heavy arm of his looped over and around your waist.

There were some familiar aspects to waking up. Like your husband's snores ringing softly. Unfortunately, the prickle of sweat had also become normal. The storm from yesterday should have lifted the humid heat, but it still hung off the ocean.

Usually he rose before you, but as you adjust a leg, just a hair, you feel the deep ache in your hips, and the swollen, delicious soreness that was nestled between them. It reminded you on just why he was still asleep.

Dwarven lovers. You'd heard they had stamina. You'd heard they were well-endowed. You heard about the satisfaction they brought. The king lived up to everyone of those stereotypes. After the tears on the beach, the confession you'd given him, and the delicate kiss he'd given you, here you were. Unfamiliar in his arms.

It was strange, everytime his breathing changed, you'd hold yours, desperately begging for him not to wake up and tear you from this beautiful dream.

Instead, you thought about the way he touched you last night. The bath you'd shared, like your wedding night where you washed and braided each other's hair awkwardly. Only last night wasn't as awkward.

Instead, water sloshed in the bath as lips drew on lips. You remember the both of you slipping in the tiny tub, reaching desperately for his thick arms and shoulders to grip as your bodies slipped against one another, not quite uniting in the way you craved.

Instead, you just clumsily devoured each other in the water. Grinding and arching against each other. Your nipples hardened at the lapping his tongue gave them in the bath.

And finally his hand had slipped between you both and you nearly slipped under the water at the feeling of his big fingers stretching you to delerium.

A shiver ran through you. Perhaps another bath was in order. But what if the king had changed his mind again? This was supposed to be a political marriage, after all.

But remembering mounting him on the edge of that tub, after the water had gone cold vanished the thought for a moment. His mouth on your throat as you sunk down onto him for the first time.

It pinched, not wanting to fill you immediately. And when you had finally encased him fully, he gave a shuttering gasp and pulled you to his chest. He stroked at your back and thighs as your face pressed into the crook of his neck. He was so large it felt like you would split in two. And he let you rest until you were ready to move, whispering things in Khudzul to you.

That served to both turn you on and sooth you.

And then your hips were rocking and the king was sinking into the the cold water with you. No one cared that most of the desperate movements were sending waves of bath water to the floor, tongues tangling again.

Nothing made you so delirious as in the middle of the night, him waking you up by sliding into you again.

The storm stopped long before either of you had.

When Thorin shifted against you, pulling you tighter, you felt a familiar bulge bump your thigh. Your reaction was immediate, you were throbbing already with want. When he had stilled, you hoped you could sneak away to carefully untangle from him. The doubts of your mind eating you.

You felt as if you'd coerced him and guilt gnawed at your mind like a hungry animal.

You didn't have to detangle yourself from him because a loud, urgent knock sounded, rousing your husband from sleep. His reaction was to roll over you, dragging the sheet up to cover you and bark an order. The door opened and Dwalin was standing there, smirking.

"I know my king is resting from a long night, but promised to be in a meeting at sunrise." Based on the streaking of light, it was past sunrise. Your husband gave a groan, and began dragging himself from the sheets.

"I will be there shortly, Dwalin." Your friend gave you a raunchy grin as he closed the door. It made your heart thump wildly in your chest.

Thorin dragged himself out of bed quickly, reaching for trousers, his hair falling in messy waves. He paused when you shuffled up toward the head board. A look his eyes. A confliction in his face.

"Don't let me keep you longer than I have, Thorin," you murmur, tucking the sheets to your body. He gives a nod but watches you a moment longer. His frown is deepening and he finishes tying his trousers.

He gives a sigh, shaking his head like he's trying to shake thoughts away, and his tunic is being swiped off of the foot of the bed and dragged over himself. "I should tell Dwalin to reschedule the meeting."

"What? Why?" You ask, attempting to sit up but wincing at the soreness that wouldn't let itself be forgotten. Thorin was at your side immediately, hand reaching for your thigh. The heat of his palm sent tingles to the apex of your thighs.

"I should have been more delicate with you yesterday. I'll send for a healer." His eyes fluttered down, guilt and concern filling his gaze. You followed it, glancing down to see the bruises and bites that littered your collar, chest and shoulders.

"That's nothing." You promise, looking to your husband. He sighs deeply and shakes his head. You desperately didn't want him to regret the coupling of last night.

"I still should have-"

You cut him off by quickly leaning forward with flushed cheeks and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. His expression flutters into something gentler, but still sad.

Carefully, he reaches up and tugs the sheet. You grab for them, startled and embarrassed. "What are you doing?"

"Evaluating your injuries, there is no reason to shy from me." When you didn't relent to him, he set his jaw, frowning. Then he reached for your legs. You squeak when he hooks his hands under your knees and drags you to the edge of the bed. And gently he peels the sheet away as he hovers over you.

Need is flaring through your body as he gazes over you. His eyes glance over the bruises on your hips where he'd gripped you too hard. There was an outline of his teeth on your thigh still that he gently thumbed over. Guilt rose again in his eyes.

And he lowered himself, making you moan softly as his beard and lips brush over the bite. "You shouldn't do that. You have to go," You whimper.

Thorin sighs, drawing back up to see your needy expression. "Aye, my queen." And with a final caress, he parts from you.

Later, when you joined during him to eat at dinner, you received many questioning looks due to the high necked dress you wore, thanks to one of the barrowed hand maidens.

You didn't get to speak to him most of the days, but you didn't miss the longing looks he gave you. They made your heart race.

Mamihlapinatapai.

Dwalin settled beside you as the rest of the nobles left the dining hall. He passed you a friendly smile. "I wondered which one of ya would cave first."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been mad for ya since Rivendell, you know. I think he just needed to know you cared for him too."

"Rivendell? So..." You gulp, "so he feels the same for me?" Dwalin frowned at your words.

"You're his queen. He wouldn't have laid with you last night if you weren't his One, lass."

A thrill went through you. Hope shining in like a ray of sunshine. Perhaps he could be a proper husband. You trusted Dwalin with your life. Maybe it was time to step up your game.

The door creaking open revealed your husband entering. He glanced at you, eyes dipping over your silken robe.

He approached as you stood and made your way toward him. "Y/N," he hums. He watched as you untie the robe, eyes lighting up, then flashing with guilt at the discoloration he'd caused.

"Make love to me, my king." He blinked at you.

"After what I did to you, you still want me to touch you?" You step up and wrap his arms around you.

"It didn't hurt. You didn't hit me. Your intention was pleasure not pain." Gently you reached for his face, and with every ounce of will you could muster you brush some of his hair from his face. "I am so in love with you." His expression flutters and this time you catch the glimpse of hope in you. The king surges his mouth against yours.

"I love you," he murmurs around your lips. The sound of it steals your breath. Yes. And he couldn't stop telling you the rest of the night.

A visual representation of me trying to post yesterday... Thank you, Lyn for letting me post it today instead.

Taglist: @tomisbaeholland @fizzyxcustard @dabisburntnut

[neoarchipelago]

Her Teacher (Teacher!John Wick x Reader part 3)

AN: WHAT AM I DOING WITH THIS????? 

Spotify playlist to listen to

Word count : 3 239

Warnings: SMUT 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT

----

Laying down in bed you were cuddling in your fluffy blanket. Taking a look at the clock you knew you'd be late, but getting up was just too hard for you. Last night had been too much for you, and even if you didn't have his class today you didn't want to even see him in the hallways. Your phone rang and you glanced at it, pondering on your next move. After sighing however your grabbed it and answered it. 

"Hello?" You voice sounded hoarse from the night spent crying but you could just pretend it was from the sleepiness. 

"(Y/n)! Where are you?!" Ah. Leia. 

"Leia, I'm… still in bed.." you answered honestly. 

"What? Why? Are you feeling sick?" She asked worriedly.

"Hum… no, just a bit tired maybe I'll stay home this morning.." you tried.

"You shouldn't study so much! You get yourself exhausted!" She whined on the phone. 

You smiled to yourself, you were lucky to have friends so sweet. But it seemed like she didn't know exactly what happened yesterday…

"I know, sorry I worried you last night." You tried again, expecting a bunch of questions on the crying. 

"It's alright, Tom said he found you at the library lost in a book and I wasn't surprised at all!" She chuckled. 

You frowned but didn't say anything. Tom had lied and didn't said anything. You were somehow glad for that. 

"Alright, take some rest ! I'll give you the classes later!" She hurriedly said. 

Before you could even answer she hung up, leaving you chuckling at how energetic she could be. You stared at your ceiling taking a deep breath. What could you do now? Staying here in your bed would never help. Running away, or never going back to university wasn't a solution either. No. You had to make it stop. The feelings that were growing inside of you were getting uncontrollable. He was your teacher, and clearly he had wanted this just as much as you. He seemed jealous of every boy who seemed to look at you… to the point where he fucked you against a bookshelf in the library. But you had no idea of his true feelings. Was there even feelings from him? You groaned throwing the blanket over your head. The power this man had over you was insane. You wanted to give in so badly, the way you felt in his arms was powerful. He was intimidating, rough yet so sweet. You wanted to drown in his eyes. 

You threw away your blanket in a raging movement. No. It had to stop. You'd go pick up your book and you'd forget him. At any cost. 

And with that thought, you rose from your bed and walked to the shower. 

----

Your comfy outfit was a bit more suited for the cold weather. You still managed to find a way to wear a skirt. You walked in the main building and looked around. Your eyes immediately found him, in a corner speaking to other teachers. You had time to see him glance at you before looking away taking your attention to Leia who had run to you, tackling you with a powerful hug. 

"Oh (y/n)!!" 

You chuckled. 

"Leia i've been gone one morning." You reminded her. 

"Yes but I've missed you!" She said whining. 

You laughed it out, catching sight of Tom walking towards you two. 

"Ladies…" he said in a playful tone, making his sister roll her eyes. 

"Hey tommy" you greeted him. 

The conversation settled between you three, and you felt almost like everything was normal. Until a thought crossed your mind. You had to go pick up the book before the end of classes. Being alone in his office, when the school is almost empty, at dark, wasn't wise. Taking a glance at your sweet teacher you saw him talk to a few students and you realized that was your chance. You excused yourself and walked towards him. His eyes on you the entire time as you stepped closer. Of course as if planned, the rest of the students left leaving you alone with him. Alone wasn't the exact word, you were in the middle of a hallway full of students, but deep down, it felt like just you two. 

"Good afternoon sir…" you managed to let out. Suddenly feeling intimidated by him. 

"Good afternoon." There it was. The sound of his voice and you were already melting. 

No. You mentally slapped yourself and finally found the strength you needed. 

"I apologise, but I forgot my book in your office, when can I pass to pick it up?" You asked with an assurance in your voice that you didn't recognize.

"We can go get it right now if you wish to. I have some things to talk to you." He spoke, looking at you in a way that made you want to get closer to him and let him wrap his arms around you. 

No. Breath!

"I do too sir." You let out. 

And he raised an eyebrow. 

"What is it?" The question was anticipated. 

You had to take a moment to swallow before speaking. 

"I..I'd like to give up your class." You spoke, looking up at him directly. 

He frowned, tried to say something. Looked around, before letting his gaze on you again. 

"Let's talk in my office please." He asked. 

You were winning this time. He looked utterly lost for a second. But you were doing this for you, not to see him like this. 

"I can't right now sir, I have a class to attend. Perhaps later?" You let out, a sudden confidence taking over. 

"I have a meet up with a few teachers, pass by after all of your classes then." He proposed. 

Well. That wasn't good. But honestly, was there any other way to do this? You took a deep breath and nodded. You stepped back ready to leave, felt a sudden grip over your wrist and looked back. 

"Tommy!" You looked at him wide eyed. 

What was he doing here? No, wait. You felt his arm pass around your shoulders as he spoke. 

"I'm taking you to class princess.." he let out with a smirk. 

You let yourself be guided away by him, not even wanting to look back at Mr Wick. That wasn't good. This wasn't going to end well. But then you shook yourself. No. He had no right to be jealous, you weren't his. So you walked away, tom's arm wrapped around your shoulders and you swaying your hips on purpose. 

----

You were sitting in your last class, nervously playing with your bottom lip. What if you didn't go? You weren't feeling brave enough to go. What if he… what if he kissed you again? You knew you'd give in immediately. You had to stay as far away from him as possible. You sighed. You wanted that book back though. You also wanted him. Class was dismissed and it was time for you to act. 

You stood up and walked as slow as possible. The amount of students was quickly fading and soon the hallway was empty. The sound of your heels the only sound breaking the silence. You took a turn to the left and saw his open door. You walked slowly to it, just to freeze at the entrance. You watched as he was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, hair falling down softly. Leaning on the door frame you stood there eyeing him. His black shirt tightly around his arms. You let your hand rise to your mouth, biting your nail a bit, trying to stop your heart from jumping. 

And he looked up. 

The darkness of his gaze wrapping around your mind like a drug. 

"(Y/n)..." Your name on his lips.

You closed your eyes trying to remind yourself your first goal. Opening them again you finally stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. 

First mistake. 

You walked up to his desk and looked at him. 

"Can I have my book?" You let out in a soft voice, every bad feeling forgotten. 

"Yes." He picked it up from his drawer and put it down in front of you. 

You took a second to admire the beautiful work he'd done on it, letting your fingers run on the leather cover. 

"It's beautiful…" you whispered. 

Lingering there. Second mistake.

He stood up and you didn't even look up at him. You just listened as he walked to the door. The sound of the lock however made you spin around and stare at him. Fuck. 

"Sir..?" You asked, your voice slightly shaking. 

"We need to talk. With no interruption." He said, walking towards you and stopping a step away. 

You nodded at him and sat on his desk. You heard him chuckle but chose not to comment it. Silence fell for a few seconds before he sighed and finally spoke. 

"Don't ...give up my class." 

You looked up at him, surprised. We were going there then? Alright.

"I have to." You explained. 

"You don't. You are an amazing student, and I don't say that because of… our… activities." He tried to explain. 

You blushed heavily. Activities? Really? 

"I just.. can't keep seeing you like this." You honestly explained. At this point, lying was pointless. 

"(y/n)..." He stepped forward and your breath hitched. 

You could already smell his cologne and your barriers were breaking already. His hand rose to touch you but stopped in mid air just to fall back down. You felt sad that he didn't but scolded yourself for even wanting it. 

"Don't give up the class because of me. I… I'll never speak to you again. I'll never touch you again if that's what you want…" he spoke, his raspy voice sounding almost pleading.

You closed your eyes, your eyes suddenly burning as the tears threatened to fall. If only he knew… that's not what you wanted. And since you never learn, your pretty little mouth let is escape once more. 

"But I don't want that…" 

Speaking without thinking, last mistake.

You almost gasped at your sudden revelation as you looked at him. But now you had started, you couldn't stop. 

"Thing is… you touching me is all I want…" 

You watched as he inhaled sharply, yet you kept going, now was no moment to stop. 

"And It's almost like a sweet sin everytime you kiss me…" 

You saw him clench his jaw, fighting himself. 

"I don't know If I should just run away or let you do whatever you want with me." 

He stepped forward once, and your breath caught in your throat but you pushed yourself to finish.

"We shouldn't be doing this, but honestly, I don't even know what we're doing…" you finished in a whisper this time he was inches from you, you could feel his jeans touching your knees and you knew the next move was going to be decisive. You were feeling so hot right now, the tension was heavy between you two, as you eyed each other's next move. You were surprised when you felt his hand on your knees. More like, hovering over them, as if afraid to touch you. 

"I haven't been really fair with you. I apologise." 

His words reached your heart, but you grew anxious for what was coming after those.

"I don't really know what we're doing neither. But I know two things for sure.

You watched as he looked at you through a few strings of hair and you thought he looked truly beautiful.

"No one can know about this. We'll both be in trouble. You… more than anything." 

You closed your eyes and nodded, feeling already the painful rejection arriving, anticipating it so much you barely noticed the weird thing he said about you being in more trouble. But you felt on of his hands reach for your chin, and you opened your already blurry eyes. 

"Second… I really don't want this to stop… You're amazing.. You're smart, interesting… beautiful…" the way he spoke was making your heart burst at the seams. 

"But if you never want me to touch you again…" 

You didn't even wait to grab his shirt and pull him closer, opening your legs to allow him more access to your body. He went for your lips and you had never wanted so much to kiss someone back. That addictive taste of his tongue making you lose all focus again. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You pulled on his shirt, wanting him to pull back so you could take it off, what he did immediately. Once you threw away the poor thing you took a second to admire his toned chest before leaning down to kiss it. You let your fingers run across his abs, but you felt his hands reach for the back of your neck and pull your hair. He captured your lips again and you felt his hand under your t-shirt. You moaned into his mouth, wanting him to continue. 

If there's one thing you both had in common it was the lack of patience you both had. You quickly had lost the said t-shirt to the ground and your bra, and his tongue was messing with your nipples and your head. You had one of your hands clasped around your mouth trying to muffle your moans, while the other was lost in his hair. One of his hands was on your thigh the other on your back keeping you steady. 

He kissed his way back up, stopping at your neck, biting and sucking on the soft skin, making you moan and softly giggle. You looked at him, his beautiful eyes, the bright smile he was giving you, and all you wanted to say was that you loved him, but maybe was it too soon? You kissed him again, trying to keep yourself from speaking words that you shouldn't. The kiss deepened and passion was leading the way into much more interesting parts. He laid you down on the desk, letting his hands caress their way down to the aim of your skirt on your thighs. He pulled it up as he leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours. His hands continued their path to the aim of your panties very slowly, and pulled them down. One leg after the other he entirely took them off, putting them down on the desk next to you. He leaned down to kiss you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck once again. 

You gasped when you felt his fingers run over your slit softly, him groaning as he felt your wetness already. Pulling back you could recognize that lustful look on his face, with that point of no turning back.

"Is that all for me?" He asked, his voice a bit darker than usual.

"Yes sir…" you moaned out like a good girl. 

You threw your head back as let one of his fingers slide in, his thumb playing with your clit in a torturing slowness. You were trying your best to stay quiet, but in between his dark gaze on your and his expert fingers you were already pretty close. He had that predator look, one that made you feel entirely trapped, yet so safe. 

"P-please… Sir.." you moaned out. 

This was wonderful, but you needed him and he knew it. You watched as his fingers left you and he rose his fingers to his mouth. The sinful moan you let out as you watched him lick his fingers clean was his breaking point. He quickly reached for his belt, unbuckling it, the bulge already perfectly visible. When he finally lowered his boxers your grasped the desk a bit tighter. The tip of his cock placed at your entrance, you looked at each other. His hand caressed your cheek and his thumb over your lips. You opened your mouth, flattening your tongue and sucked on his thumb. 

Using your little game he pushed himself deep inside you, making you moan out loud, hopefully muffled by his thumb. His hand however left your mouth and you watched slightly breathless as he grabbed your legs, positioning them over his forearms and grabbed your hips with each hand. You were completely trapped, submissive to his every will. He pulled back before sliding right back in at an awful slow pace. You were hopelessly moaning into your hand, trying to stay quiet. His pace quickening you let your head fall back on the desk, arching your back into his hands, trying desperately to feel more of him. One of his hands left your waist to wrap itself around your neck, the soft pressure sending waves of pleasure run through you. You were edging and you couldn't contain your moans anymore at all. The hand on your neck placed itself over your mouth muffling a bit more your loud moans. The way your walls were tightening around him made him groan and you knew he was close too. You felt yourself reach you high as you finally exploded, gasping as the air left your lungs, your eyes shut tight. Your senses blurring, seeing stars for a few seconds, you felt him pound into you harde a few times before cuming as well.

Your eyes were still closed, his hands had left your mouth already when he had leaned down to kiss your cheeks, then your nose and then your mouth. You smiled brightly at him, opening your eyes to him smiling just as brightly. Pulling out, he walked around the room, getting dressed and grabbing your own pieces of clothing. You sat up, trying to at least stay seated on the desk. He had already his shirt on when he walked over to you with some tissues. You were ready to grab them but he took on the task to clean you up himself as you blushed. You grabbed your bra and t shirt, getting dressed quickly as you were starting to feel cold. You felt gim wrap his arms around you and you closed your eyes accepting the embrace. You were in bliss. 

"You smell good…" you let out absentmindedly.

You heard him laugh, his chest shaking with the action and you smiled. 

"Thank you darling… come on, I'm taking you home." He spoke against your hair. 

You separated from him, looking confused. 

"A-are you sure? I can walk home…" you tried. 

"No. Unless you don't want me..?" He asked with a smirk. 

You glared at him but smirked back. Looking down, playing with his t-shirt shyly as you spoke. 

"Are you staying with me tonight..?" You asked hopefully. Looking up at him. 

He sighed looking at your does eyes and he thought about it for a second. 

"Tomorrow's Saturday…" you added. 

He smirked again and nodded, making you light up with joy.

"Come on, let's go." He said, finally pulling you up and he put on his leather coat. You watched in horror as he grabbed the panties on the desk and put them in his pocket, smirking at you. Grabbing your things you felt his hand hold your before finally reaching for the door. 

You both walked out to his car, your hand still in his. The halls seemed empty, cold and dark. But sometimes, even shadows lie in unexpected places. And you should have been a bit more careful about it. 

----

Tags:

@thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska @lowkyvoid @lunilate @faralasunita @cap-just-said-language  I hope i didn't forget anyone...

[crimsonrae]

Across the Road, At the Brothel

Chapter Seven

Summary: Jaskier fell in love any day that the sun rose in the East. It was a trifling, pleasurable experience for him. Even when he was jumping out a window to avoid cuckolded husbands. So what happens when his trifles start to become more significant? Jaskier/OC. Some Yennefer/Geralt

A/N: Jaskier is just too adorable not to write about. This is a relationship development story with an OC. There will be smut in later chapters and plenty of angst.

Rating: Mature

Wounds of Self Defense

She moved strangely.

Geralt sipped quietly on his ale as he watched Lyrra flit about the tavern. Neither the barkeep nor the bard had been able to convince her to go home. Intent to return to some form of normalcy were the words he had heard tossed about while he slipped into a deserted corner, his intent was only to observe. Besides the few moments she had spent tending his wound and assuring him that she held no ill-will toward him, Geralt didn't know her. He hadn't the time to become acquainted with her personally, he barely had time to form a first impression. Yet, in that short time, she hadn't struck him as rash, but she also hadn't struck him as violent either. Her sword and the death of her attacker reneged those impressions. A woman who could take down two of the three men who attacked her would not be one to wallow either. He supposed her resolve to return to normalcy was admirable, he had yet to determine if it was also foolish.

He hadn't missed the tense set to her shoulders anytime a new customer walked into the tavern or the way she held herself just out of reach as she spoke with others. Despite her resolve, the incident had affected her. All of this he expected, especially after he had listened to the whispered details the local townsfolk were scattering as they drank and observed Lyrra themselves. The prying gossip reminded him of one of the many reasons he was glad to travel as much as he did. Even still, what he hadn't expected was the way she moved. She was smooth, silent.

Not in the way he had seen fine ladies of court raised to walk, though a touch of that was certainly there too. No, there was something about it that tugged at his memory. Lyrra, all but seemed to fade into the background. Her frock and headscarf removed her from close scrutiny from strange new faces – she was just another barmaid. She weaved through the crowd effortlessly. Her tray never wavered and she never stumbled or bumped into another person. It was like watching a dancer to a show that no one else seemed to be aware was occurring. She was a ghost gliding past, to, and through. It bothered him because Geralt knew he had seen movement like this before, he just couldn't place where.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Lyrra appeared at his table, seemingly from nowhere as she cocked an expectant brow at him, "What would you like to eat? Cook has some stew that's fairly good and she also has a few chickens that are roasting in the spit."

Geralt shook his head, "I'm not hungry."

It was true. He hadn't had much of an appetite since waking and he was still trying to throw off the claws of fatigue. Not even his tonics had proven of much use beyond removing the smarting pain in his neck and back.

Lyrra tilted her head almost curiously, before nodding as if she had received an answer to some unspoken question, "You need to eat."

Geralt merely sent her an impassive stare as he uttered, "I had an apple."

"Today?" Lyrra questioned dubiously when he didn't answer she snorted quietly and smiled, "I'll get you the stew."

She was gone before he could voice a word of protest. He just barely caught her slim form disappearing into the kitchen. Sighing quietly under his breath, he turned back to the crowd that had gathered in the Rose and Pine in time to catch the bard's attention on the kitchen as well. This was another oddity he had noticed. Jaskier's sudden hyper-awareness. Aside from a few minutes when the younger man had left to get his lute, his attention had been firmly held by their brunette hostess all night. He tracked her movements as he played and sang, his body almost always angled in her direction and any time she disappeared from sight it was like watching a hound dog's ears suddenly prick up. Jaskier wouldn't relax until she was back in the main room. Geralt wasn't even sure that Jaskier was aware he was doing it.

As if to prove his point, Lyrra returned with a small bowl of stew and Geralt could practically see the tension leak from the bard as he belted out the next line of some raunchy limerick. He wanted to roll his eyes, instead, he watched curiously as Lyrra slid onto the bench across from him, "Going to feed it to me too?"

A dimly amused glint entered her eyes at his barb, "Only if you ask nicely..."

When he continued to stare pointedly, she sighed, "Apologies if my company offends you. I need a break and there are quite a few people in this room who would protest if I took it outside, I wager."

It helped that the only moderately peaceful area in the tavern was in his little corner. No one dared bothered the witcher, except her. She had checked on him a few times already, eyeing his face and wound carefully each time. He could practically feel the disapproval radiating from her.

He smirked, "And this gave you the chance to play nursemaid again."

Lyrra rolled her eyes, "If you want to starve, starve."

He was tempted to let the bowl sit, but some distant part of him, the part that never let things like food go to waste lifted the spoon and took a small bite. She was right it wasn't half bad, even if the thought of swallowing more made him pause, "Do you always watch people eat?"

"No." Lyrra smirked, "Just the ones who end up in my bed."

Geralt quirked a brow at the teasing comment, "And here I thought that was the bard."

A faint blush rose to her cheeks as she sent a thoughtful glance to the man in question, "Jaskier is... sweet." The bard caught her gaze as he started his next song and winked at her. Her blush darkened, "And incorrigible."

Geralt felt his lips twitch in silent agreement as he watched the interplay between the couple. She shook her head as she turned back, "There was a time when I dreaded meeting him, you know?"

"Wouldn't have guessed by the way you ran out of your home." Geralt murmured dryly, "Afraid your betrothed wouldn't be a handsome prince?"

"Oh, I knew he wouldn't be a prince." Lyrra returned drolly as she met his stare head-on, "It's just been my experience that those of an... elevated status are entitled, cruelly so. I was expecting cruelty, but he's not. He's rather kind."

In truth, it was hard to remember that either one of them was of noble birth. They moved about the lower masses as if it had been their place all along. He had only seen Jaskier perform in court once and while his performance had the usual jaunty foolishness there had been a tension that Geralt had attributed to the potential threat of cuckolded husbands. He wouldn't have pegged Lyrra for royalty any more than he had Jaskier.

No more princess.

Renfri's voice echoed through his thoughts as Geralt remained silent. Her story had been born of cruelty, as well. It seemed to be the fate of the Creyden Princesses he was beginning to gather. He took a long draw from his tankard as he studied her, "Where did you go after Blaviken?"

Where Renfri had been forthcoming, her sister was more guarded Geralt found as she flashed him a benign smile and shrugged, "Lived on the streets, gradually made my way south and well, here we are."

"Here we are." He murmured softly. A pensive crease furrowed his brow as he recalled, "You said she knew she was going to die."

Lyrra's smile turned sympathetic. Much of what her mother and Stregobor had spewed about her sister had been pure shit, but the old mage had gotten one thing correct. Renfri was special. She would know things that should have been impossible, "She knew it the moment she saw you. She had dreamt of her death for years. The white wolf with the sad eyes... She was right, your eyes are sad."

Geralt's mouth tightened uncomfortably, "She shouldn't have gone to the market."

"You mean, she shouldn't have sought revenge." Lyrra corrected lowly as she swooped his ale from his grasp and took a swig. It was subtle attempt to get him to eat more, "Loud and brash, that was my sister. Like a raging storm."

"Do you not also want vengeance?" He asked quietly, curiously.

There was a long moment as she contemplated his question. A hardness flashed across her grey eyes that he had only seen when he asked of Aridea before it drifted into something sadder. She smiled ruefully at him, "Sometimes. I think it's normal to want pain for the ones that hurt us. Sometimes, I think those people aren't even worth the effort."

He frowned, noting that she hadn't exactly answered him and unsure of what to make of their conversation. Instead, he chose to alight on a more pressing topic, "And the man that attacked you last night and got away? Is he worth the effort?"

She tensed faintly as if she had forgotten the events of the prior night entirely, "The man who attacked me is a coward. He brought friends to help subdue me and when they were in trouble he ran. He, alone, is hardly worth consideration."

Interesting.

Geralt tilted his head, "You don't think he'll come back."

Lyrra shook her head, "Not alone, he'd bring more men with him if he did."

The witcher couldn't find fault in her logic. His thoughts had run a similar path as the events of her attack became more clear to him. Yet, the man had been foolhardy enough to try once, there was nothing that said he wouldn't try again, "Your sword -"

"Haven't used that thing in years." Lyrra cut him off duly amused, "More liable to hurt myself with it than anyone else."

"You fought off two men. I doubt you're that out of practice." Geralt pointed out as he took back his ale.

"I was very lucky last night." Lyrra sighed at the reminder and looked away almost ashamedly, "I panicked, things could've gone very differently."

He nodded in agreement; glad she could see her own pitfalls. It would make things easier for him, "We'll change that."

Lyrra raised a brow nonplussed, "We will?"

"We will." Geralt promised soundly as he finished off his drink, silently entertained at the bewildered stare he was receiving. He had made the decision to teach her a few defense skills almost as soon as the bard had uttered the news of the third man being free. He hadn't needed Jaskier reminding him that he should repay her kindness, not when he was well aware of all that he had already taken from her.

Lyrra was not nearly as amused as she stared pointedly at his shoulder, "And how do you propose to do that wounded?"

His mouth thinned as he grunted, "I'm fine."

Her lips parted in protest, but another voice beat her to it, "We really should get you a looking glass if you think you look fine."

Both Lyrra and Geralt looked up to see Jaskier approaching with two chalices in hand, neither had heard his performance end. He slid one in front of Lyrra as he straddled the bench, she was sitting on, "What have I missed? - You going to eat that?"

He was already reaching for the bowl before Geralt could answer when Lyrra pulled his hand back, "He needs to eat."

Jaskier blinked guilelessly at her, "He had an apple."

There was a long moment as they stared at each other before Lyrra shook her head in exasperation, "There's something wrong with both of you."

She moved to stand, Geralt assumed to get the bard a bowl of stew as well, when Jaskier quickly latched onto her wrist, "Stay. Stay. I can get my own food."

Lyrra stared down at his hand with a frown. It took Geralt a minute to realize why as he noted the loose wrapping. If it were possible Jaskier's hand looked more swollen than it had earlier. The bandage did little to hide the bruising now. With careful movements, she bade him keep still as she unwrapped his hand for a better look. Luckily, Geralt didn't see any sign of infection on the broken knuckles. The bard had done well in keeping it cleaned.

Even still their hostess sighed wearily, a hint of guilt touching her eyes as she gently brushed over the skin. Jaskier flinched at the small contact, "You need to stop using it so much."

"Yes, well why do you think I stopped playing." Jaskier grumbled as he attempted to wrap his hand back up.

Lyrra merely hummed and took the ribbon cloth from him as she re-tied it. He had been joking when he had called her a nursemaid earlier, but Geralt was finding the description more than appropriate as she fussed. Biting back a sigh himself, he pushed his bowl over to the bard. He wasn't going to eat it anyway. Jaskier flashed a triumphant grin at him as he dug in.

"So, what had you two looking so serious?" Jaskier asked around a mouth full of food. Lyrra pulled a face at his lack of manners making the bard smirk as he waited for an answer.

Geralt shook his head at their antics, he suddenly felt like the only adult sitting at the table. Lyrra sipped at her wine as she replied, "How Geralt thinks he's going to teach me how to fight."

Jaskier stilled midbite with an expression of pure befuddlement, "Wha-"

"Not fight, just defense." Geralt corrected taking Jaskier's wine. He would have preferred ale.

The bard didn't even protest the theft as his eyes darted between his tablemates, "What?"

Geralt rolled his eyes.

"I have a defense. It's called running." Lyrra murmured dryly and Jaskier smirked in agreement, "Even if I were willing to go along with this rather moronic idea, I still don't understand how you're going to do that when you're still recovering."

He merely smiled darkly in answer.

»»————-　　————-««

Lyrra sighed wearily as she watched the morning sunrise from outside her cottage and wondered how she had been talked into this. She had donned an old pair of breeches and a loose shirt as she waited for Geralt. The witcher had been intent on his plan she had found when she had been wrested awake only hours after falling asleep. If he had wanted to give her an incentive to hurt him, he had gotten off to a very good start.

Even Jaskier was still asleep.

She yawned tiredly as a hand fell on her shoulder. She didn't jump, merely sent a baleful stare toward her tormentor. Geralt bit back a smile at the look as he handed her sword to her. Lyrra frowned as she looked it over. The dust had been cleared, the blade oiled, and it appeared more lethally sharp than when she had originally obtained the weapon.

Lyrra was tempted to tell him that she already knew defense techniques. No one spent ten years on the streets without picking up some sort of fighting style. She could fight when she needed to, but there were... there were times when a certain movement or touch would shut off her common sense and she suddenly found herself struggling to even throw a punch. Those were problems that she didn't know how to overcome. As she looked over her sword, she thought of her sister – this was her weapon of choice. One that Lyrra had never been fully comfortable handling.

She raised a brow at the witcher, "I wasn't lying when I said I haven't handled this thing in a while."

"I know." Geralt replied as he moved a few paces in front of her. He stiffened his stance and met her annoyed stare with an expectant one, "Come at me."

Lyrra scoffed, "I thought the point of this was to teach me defense."

"It is. Come at me." He ordered lowly.

"This is a phenomenally stupid idea." She muttered, not any more inclined to move. As irritated as she was by this whole affair, she wasn't about to attack someone whom she knew to be wounded. Geralt hadn't looked any better in the morning light. His pallor was horribly stark against his dark clothing. She dared to think he looked better in the dim light of the tavern.

Geralt titled his head and frowned at her, "You won't hurt me. Now come at me."

Almost petulantly she muttered, "You're already hurt."

"Lyrra."

She blinked at hearing her name. She was sure that it was the first time he had ever said it. He raised a brow at her, he wasn't going to tell her again. She huffed quietly, knowing that he wouldn't give up. Stubbornness shined in his golden eyes and she had long learned when to pick her battles. She crouched down and picked up some dirt to rub in her suddenly sweaty palms. Geralt watched her with approving eyes as she stood again and found her grip on the hilt of the sword.

Firm, not overly tight, she reminded herself.

She drew a calming breath and then advanced.

She kept the sword tip angled out and down. A swing would cost her too much momentum and she had the feeling that Geralt was expecting it. Instead, she thrust for his inner thigh and was soundly knocked back on her ass.

She didn't even have time to squawk in surprise as she blinked dazedly up. By the Gods, he was fast.

"Not a bad start." Geralt rumbled as he crouched next to her with an offered hand, "Still think you're going to hurt me."

Lyrra snorted as she gripped his palm, "I was never under the impression that I could. I'm more concerned that you'll hurt yourself."

He pulled her up with nary a grunt as he eyed her speculatively, "Again."

Lyrra rolled her eyes but did as she was told. She advanced in the same manner, but this time she feinted to the left as she swiped the sword for his right. He dodged gracefully and quickly twisted to grasp her wrist and knock the sword to the ground. Her back connected with his chest and she felt the small flinch up his arm. She was right, he was going to end up hurting himself.

Geralt didn't let her go right away and when she glanced at him over her shoulder, he was glaring at her, "What?"

"You're holding back." He growled.

She found herself imitating Jaskier, "What?"

He hummed lowly and let her go. She watched curiously as he stalked back to the cottage and then she noticed his sword leaning in the threshold. A small tendril of dread began to curl in her stomach.

He picked it up and didn't even take a breath before he was on her. Her eyes widened and Lyrra barely suppressed a gasped as she dodged a slash to her stomach. He swung again, faster this time. Her eyes darted warily to his shoulders as she ducked under his swings. He remained impassive through and she knew he was going easy on her. She was both annoyed and relieved by that notion as her muscle memory began to kick in and she met one of his thrusts. Their swords clanged. A tremor went through her arm at the force and she grunted in discomfort before she twisted away. Her hand skimmed the edge of her boot and she itched to grab the dagger within, more comfortable with the smaller weapon, but she resisted and barely moved out from another attack.

Geralt didn't let up and she began to panic. In a desperate bid to slow him, she kicked up some dirt to his eyes and dodged another swing. He turned in time to see her sword coming for his throat and ducked. He had her disarmed and on her back a second later.

He peered down the length of his sword at her with a frown, "You're right. You panic."

Lyrra gulped for air, it had been a long time since she had to move that fast, "Are we done now?"

Geralt snorted and helped her back to her feet. He studied her curiously for a second before bending back down and slipping his hand inside her boot. She nearly kicked out at him until she realized he was grabbing her dagger, "Why didn't you use it?"

She shrugged uneasily, "Any time I pull a dagger out, it tends to go into someone. Sometimes, me."

Geralt lifted a brow and held the hilt out to her, "Show me."

Lyrra frowned unhappily but took the dagger from him. He placed their swords to the side and gestured for her to attack. She didn't advance the way she had with a sword. She tilted the blade down with the edge out and didn't move so much toward him as she did pass him. She made a horizontal slash for his side and he dodged easily and moved to grab her elbow, but she moved faster. He backed up as she pushed forward. It became a dance and Lyrra was fairly sure he was just humoring her. She should have been knocked down ages ago.

As if he could sense her thoughts, Geralt latched onto her wrist as she swiped up and twisted. She winced but reacted unconsciously by slamming her foot into his ankle and yanking down. He grunted, but his grip remained firm as the dagger fell from her fingers.

Sweat coated her brow as she stared expectantly at him. Geralt nodded approvingly as he let her go, "Better."

"You could have done that sooner." She grumbled rubbing her wrist.

"You could have pulled it out sooner." Geralt countered as he watched her. To her annoyance, he barely looked rumpled. He crossed his arms and lifted a brow, "Show me what happened the other night."

Lyrra froze and turned disbelieving eyes on him. She hadn't wanted to speak of her attack, much less reenact it. Already she felt her veins start to chill as she remembered the weight against her back. The witcher tilted his head and she felt like he was seeing right through her. He took a careful step back as he said almost gently, "I'm not going to hurt you, Lyrra."

Even as he spoke, she felt her heart in her throat. A tightness was starting to choke her voice again. She clenched her jaw in frustration and closed her eyes as she turned her back on him. When she opened them again, she spotted Jaskier leaning warily in the doorjamb of her cottage. She wondered distantly how long he had been watching.

She kept her gaze locked on him as she started in a rough rasp, "I was leaning against the wall in the alley when he called out to me. He was a trader form a few nights prior. He wanted me to service him and I had told him where to find the brothel. He had a friend with him – I started to edge back to the kitchen when he blocked off the end of the alley. I didn't know that he had another friend until I backed into him."

She took a step back and heard the swish of air as Geralt came to meet her. She did a horrible job of hiding her flinch but continued to describe halting what had happened. Geralt shoved her dagger back into her hand as she described how she kept it in her apron. Slowly, painfully they went over everything step by step. Until they reached the point where her third attacker came into play. Geralt raised his hand to press into her shoulders and she froze. Her words faltering as she felt her breath start to come in short gasps.

Cold fingers touching, probing.

"Lyrra."

Her skin crawled.

"Stop."

A deep voice growled in her ear and she snapped back to the present. Geralt stood to her side as he eyed her carefully. Jaskier was halfway to her, concern written across his expression as she grappled for control of herself, but Geralt held up a hand to stop him.

Then so quietly she almost didn't hear him, even though his knowing tone didn't escape her notice, "Is it me being behind you or is it the touch against your back?"

She swallowed tightly as she met his apologetic gaze. A weary sigh escaped her, he knew – not that it was hard to figure out, she whispered back, "Back. He used to hold me down with his hand between my shoulders."

Geralt nodded and let his hand drop, "We'll break. I need to think."

Jaskier moved forward tentatively as he looked worriedly between the two of them. He almost seemed to be silently asking if it were okay to approach and Lyrra smiled faintly at him, "I'm okay."

"That's debatable. You're the same color as his hair." The bard muttered glibly and as he got closer, he lifted a brow, "And you smell like Roach."

"Rude." She smacked his arm as she smiled unwillingly. The act seemed to do more to reassure him than her words had as he smiled back, "How's your hand?"

"Still attached." Jaskier shrugged and held it up for her to see, despite his attempt at levity there was still an air of concern around him. His good hand trailed a path down her arm towards her hand, "You didn't want to do this...Maybe you two should stop. Say the word."

Her smile turned soft as she squeezed his fingers, already she feeling her anxiety easing, "Just a hiccup, don't worry."

He sighed uncertainly but nodded before a more devilish grin began to pull at his lips, "Well, can't say I don't enjoy this little number, you're wearing. Who knew trousers could be so sexy?"

Lyrra choked on a laugh at the unexpected comment as she felt a blush heating her cheeks, "You're ridiculous."

His azure eyes danced merrily at her, "Now that's better. Flushed and sweaty, very tempting."

"Jaskier..." She admonished amusedly, even as she felt her blush deepen.

He chuckled quietly as he continued to tease, drawing soft laughs and light conversation until he was certain whatever dark place she had gone to was locked firmly back in the shadows. She knew what he was doing and was appreciative of his efforts even if she didn't say as much.

Neither noticed the way Geralt was watching them pensively, an idea beginning to take shape.

Previous Chapter     Next Chapter