#because it knows its losing . it knows that it cannot hang onto me anymore like it did

[kaleuh]

genuinely feels like i have the "cursed" hindrance as of late*

*only Savage Worlds (ETU) tabletop GAMERS will understand THIS personal post..

[melis-writes]

Eyes like Stars [Bobby Axel x Reader Multi-chapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 18 - The Secrets We Keep.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 17 [AO3] / [Tumblr] / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+ explicit smut, multi-chapter read.

“You sure as hell weren’t looking out for me when you called the police to investigate and interrogate me!” / “Your girlfriend’s carrying.”

Your cycle of addiction relies on nothing but the change neither you nor Bobby can commit to. From worries of another panic to the danger Bobby carries as Santo's best supplier, your words of worry and warning have turned to hypocrisy. Sykes is onto you and to avoid blackmail and potentially losing your job, you find yourself dealing to him against your own wishes. Creating a rift of distrust from lies between Bobby and you, Bobby is now under the impression you're cheating on him.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & depictions of drug addiction and use / Rough smut / Sex while high / Drug dealing.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Back to Emily and Bobby's story! 🥺 At this point I can say we're more than halfway into the fic's storyline but focused on where Bobby and Emily's relationships will go from the choices and lies they make. The calm before the storm is finally over. 😔💔

Bobby’s release from prison marks the end of his and Helen’s relationship and you find yourself spending more time with Bobby and taking care of him after everything he’s been through. Working and living in Manhattan as a college drop-out, you distance yourself from Helen who Bobby and you take solace with one another in hopes to get out of the toxic lifestyle of drug use—promising each other to start a new life with one another and get clean. Falling in love with Bobby, you experience a mutual, passionate and loving relationship with its own highs and lows that promises to bloom into something more serious but also can threaten to collapse. As Bobby’s new girlfriend, your relationship hangs on a thread with old skeletons coming back into Bobby’s life, relapses, and a new panic on the horizon that threatens to undo it all.

‘I will never change.’ You tell yourself, slouching on the couch next to Bobby and trailing your fingertips over the bruising needle marks upon your wrist.

‘And neither will Bobby.’ Completely slumped on the couch from a heavy and lingering high, Bobby keeps his head low and eyes half open—riding the sensation of drowsy numbness the heroin provides him.

Once again you find yourself in the middle of a repeating cycle you cannot change. Bobby and you always come upon the conversation of changing, but nothing works—remaining the same way out of desperation.

‘Nothing happens every single time.’ It might as well be wasted potential from the beginning—just like what many consider Bobby to be. You still can’t wrap your head around how you got to this point—how Bobby got to this point.

Whatever happened to Bobby being clean from here on out after his release from prison? Bobby promised not only you but himself that he would neither use nor deal but now both of you are embroiled in both so what does that say about your actions and words?

If Bobby continues to destroy his health and body from the inside out, the doctor’s visit you took him to would even be considered a waste. When has Bobby ever cared though?

Then again, you didn’t stop Bobby. You didn’t stop him from using or dealing again you’re used to succumbing to peer pressure in a relationship with the worst influence of all time.

There’s no excuse for what you do and choose to do because you can’t blame Bobby for everything. 

All you and Bobby can claim now are that you both don’t care anymore. All that talk about moving out of Needle Park may just be a sober person’s fantasy or junkie’s joke. 

All you know is your addiction to substances and for Bobby and the only thing that’s true to you is how much you love him.

Perhaps you and Bobby simply have nothing to lose except one another, both in a sense of love and life.

The truth is that you and Bobby are both addicted to heroin and using cocaine or marijuana to handle it is just another form of denial.

Amidst your drug use, Bobby is the one and only person you look forward to seeing when you get home when you awaken, and who you go to bed with. You have nothing but Bobby and it’s the same for Bobby—all he has is you.

Other than dealing and supplying the “goods” to his friend group and around the street to every desperate junkie who can afford it, Bobby has nothing else to look forward to except getting home to you and getting high. 

All Bobby’s doing to keep himself happy is making a quick buck on the streets for himself and for Santo, because outside of the harrowing world he’s stepped into, you’re all Bobby knows it.

Here you both are two days later, having shared a needle together and shot up more junk through your veins.

Neither of you is consciously aware of whether you’re taking the “real dynamite” shit to get high and stay high, or if it's solely to avoid the drowsy, nauseating feeling of coming down.

Where Santo’s keeping his stock of heroin, he’s doing the same for cocaine and marijuana which you and Bobby help yourselves to plenty—lacing it together whenever you can.

You both have had your sex drives skyrocket whereas many other addicts and some in your friend group have little to a non-existent libido, even suffering from erectile dysfunction.

Practically fucking like rabbits against the kitchen counter, cowgirl over the diner table, Bobby pinning you up against the bathroom wall, and fucking your ass all rough, sloppy, and needy has become an addiction of its own kind too.

You both don’t stop until physical exhaustion racks over you both, cumming and going at it again and again.

The orgasms are heavenly and euphoric, intensified and feel as good as the first, sometimes motivating the two of you to get high just to feel it that way.

If you aren’t using or at work, then you’re fucking and doing nothing else. It may even be considered disruptive to your life, forgetting about everything and anything so long as Bobby’s inside you.

“Fuck, fuck,” Bobby hissed between gritted teeth, gripping your hips and pounding your pussy from behind in doggy style over the coffee table. 

“B-Bobby, Bobby! Uh!” Your voice trembled with every word as you clutched onto the end of the coffee table with all your strength.

“The fuck?” Bobby grunted, hearing the doorbell ring in the middle of fucking you good.

“The d-delivery guy—” You whimpered against the coffee table, almost having completely forgotten you two ordered pizza.

“Got it—I got it,” out of breath, Bobby pulled out of you suddenly and caused you to squeal; your pussy oozing out his last load of cum.

Ass naked with no time to grab anything on, Bobby grabbed the wad of cash over the kitchen counter you both set out for the pizza before he got to the front door; his cock still covered in his and your cum.

Only having opened the door enough to take the pizza box, Bobby throws the cash at the delivery guy and snatches the pizza out of his hands before Bobby slammed the door in his face.

You giggled at the sight and watched as Bobby scrambled to set the pizza down on the kitchen counter without spreading it, only to turn his head and see you spread open your pussy with your fingers as an invitation—showing Bobby your stretched little hole.

Back to fucking you ruthlessly and wasting no further time, you let out a screaming moan that the pizza delivery guy heard as he was making his way out of the apartment; signaling Bobby back inside of you for another round you lost count of.

If it isn’t fucking you or shooting up with you, Bobby continuously thinks of how lucky he has to have a girl like you keeping a roof over his head and loving him unconditionally.

Bobby bounces from your apartment to Santo’s hideout if he isn’t dealing but waiting for the next stash and keeping an eye on those who work for Santo and watching the stash he’ll soon deal out be made before his eyes.

Old business cards, playing cards, and anything with a sleek edge that’s all the same around are used to file the powder down to a perfect amount like an artisan mastering his craft.

Everyone’s hands move quickly like clockwork as if they’re doing any other daily routine, working fast.

Santo’s never replaced those working for him in his inner group—distrustful of outsiders and prefers to keep what most may call ‘normal people’ working under him instead.

Those who prepare, create and package the packs of heroin have no addictions themselves or anyone that they know of. They’re regular, ordinary people who raise no suspicion and go along with it; doing what they need to do to earn their pay.

Santo pays far too much with a promise for anyone to want to leave and that’s certainly the reality of Bobby and the money he makes from Santo now too. 

When you lose a steady resource like that, you’re back to being a desperate junkie on the streets willing to beg at a supplier’s feet or something—anything—just to shoot up again. 

You either find some means to support yourself or you lose it all, going to jail or in rehab. Either way, you get clean and you’re still unemployed but then the cycle begins anew.

Untouchable because of his trustworthy contacts, if Hotch came to arresting Santo or exposing him, a panic twice as bad as the last one would hit and remove a massive supply off the streets within a week. 

It would be ruin for Bobby and you know that means it would be ruin for you too.

But for as long as Bobby’s Santo’s main supplier in the streets of Upper West Side Manhattan, Bobby and you would never run out for yourselves and be the first to know of potential panic.

Now finding success in being a hotshot drug dealer, Bobby has no need or reason to think of having a future outside of what he’s done—letting drugs eat away at all of it.

Breaking the law, dealing and smuggling is like second nature now to Bobby and he’s not even aware of it.

Deep down but unfelt, there’s guilt inside Bobby’s heart for getting you involved in this mess and having to deal with him too, but as long as Bobby isn’t actively thinking about it, he doesn’t let the guilt get to him or influence him.

After all, it’s the same guilt Bobby felt when he looked to his side and noticed that he ended up getting Helen just as addicted as himself too. 

The sight of a syringe filled up with junk should remind Bobby of his upbringing and how it’s destroyed his life two times over, Bobby remembers money instead.

Bobby’s mind is only on the here and now; what he’s going to do, where he’s going to deal with and who he’s going to deal with, and nothing else. 

Crime and drugs were already all that Bobby knew in his upbringing as a child, growing up on these streets. Nothing has changed.

Bobby still can’t bring himself to hate Needle Park despite everything it's done to him and everyone else in it too, but it’s Bobby’s home and all he knows, and he has to love his home in a way.

Subconsciously thinking it, this life is the only life for Bobby and it’ll maybe it’ll just have to be the only life for you too.

The only life you knew before Bobby was work and home—nothing else. You’re tipping and harboring over addiction only because you’re not in the position to constantly get high or quite literally be a full-time addict. 

You can call it chipping all you want, but even you feel how your body begins to demand more substance to hold onto addiction while narrowly escaping it.

You’d rather snort a few lines of cocaine off a table and light up a joint every now and then to calm your nerves but nothing feels the same—nothing works the same. You can’t get out of the buzzing mindset gnawing and eating away at you and your body can’t cope without your fix of poison.

You no longer have a choice.

~

Your shift at work today is accompanied by gazes and stares Sykes doesn’t even intend on making discreet whether you’re shifting in your seat at your desk, standing up to go to the bathroom or even looking up from your dress—you always find Sykes’ eyes over yours.

Without explicitly having the conversation with you, Sykes would like you to know he didn’t say a word to Hotch nor did anyone come around to follow up. 

You’ve come to notice Sykes isn’t loud mouthing or walking around the office like he owns the place, as usual, today, assuming he’s still relatively stunned by the nature of Hotch’s visit. 

Nobody else in the office knows or suspects anything.

Wanting to forget about the whole ordeal and never bring it up again, you’re constantly reminded of it every time your eyes meet with Sykes’ and only continue to feel uneasy because you’re still being watched by him as you work.

You’ve already figured the less you look up from your desk and specifically near Sykes’ direction, the more Sykes will hopefully get the point that you’re actually working and tired of this staring game.

Working as you normally would and finishing your tasks for the day, you refuse to check the time as often as you would even though you’re dying to get out of work simply for the sake of not rousing Sykes’ suspicion. 

Just a few minutes before it’s time to clock out, you get up from your desk once more and head towards the women’s washroom in no rush.

You use the bathroom as slowly as you can, dragging all of your movements out as if you have all the time in the world or you’re in the comfort of your own home.

You’re more than certain Sykes has seen you enter but if you step out of the bathroom any second now and bump into him, you have all the right to accuse Sykes of stalking you which is exactly what you’re hoping for.

Washing and drying your hands slowly, you take your time by even splashing some cold water over your face, fixing your hair, and smoothening out your outfit.

Sykes still remains in his office, but his eyes are fixated on the door of the women’s bathroom and he refuses to move a muscle, knowing your presence in his office is going to be inevitable when you do come out since you have to clock out there.

From the moment you step out of the bathroom and come to notice neither Sykes nor any other one of your coworkers are around the washroom, you sigh quietly to yourself in relief.

Sykes remains preoccupied with signing paperwork at his desk when you begin to walk out, and you can’t help but feel a little less on edge when you know his attention is no longer on you.

Keeping quiet and to yourself, you make your way to Sykes’ office to clock out for the day and expect him to look up, move or even say something but he continues to ignore you despite being aware of your presence.

‘Okay, whatever.’ You punch out your time card before returning back to your desk to grab your coat and purse. 

Ignoring Sykes and finally ending your work day, you sling your purse over your shoulder and begin to head out to the hallway to get to the elevator.

You’re completely unaware that Sykes has been watching your every movement since you turned your back from him and quietly began to follow you from behind.

Only at the very last minute before you’re about to reach your hand out to press the elevator button do you hear footsteps coming directly behind you, followed by Sykes’ grabbing your arm.

You gasp out in surprise, attempting to jerk away but Sykes’ grip harshens as he pulls you to him by force. “Say something.”

“What?” You stammer, attempting to pull your arm back again, “what are you—let go of me! Were you following me?!”

“Lower your fucking voice,” Sykes hisses, releasing your arm—somewhat embarrassed to be called out so loudly. “I was looking out for you.”

“Looking out for me?” You scoff, scowling. “You sure as hell weren’t looking out for me when you called the police to investigate and interrogate me!”

“You think I did that?” Sykes grabs at your wrist, this time pulling you over into a private corner of the hallway. “Keep your goddamn voice down! What—do you want the whole office to know?”

“Seriously?” You lower your tone of voice, shaking his grip off your wrist. “You honestly expect me to think you had nothing to do with that police visit?”

“Did I look like a smug son of a bitch back there with all those cops swarming around my desk?” Sykes points to his chest, speaking through gritted teeth. “They’re not your normal patrol cops either—they’re narcos, Emily, and because of that lowlife you’re dating and whatever other scum out there you’re connected to, the narcos think you’re shooting, snorting, selling—whatever. They questioned me too.”

“Probably because you’re my boss,” you glare back at Sykes at the mention of Bobby being a ‘lowlife’. “That sounds pretty normal to me—questioning the employee’s boss.”

“Not like you think,” Sykes rolls his eyes. “They didn’t question anyone else. You’d think the cops and a man like Hotchner would be interested to see if anyone else is snorting or shooting up before or at work.”

“So they know then,” you cross your arms.

“No, not yet and they won’t,” Sykes stares at you with concern growing in his eyes, “that’s the point I’m trying to get across. The cops found nothing here and left bored and unhappy. They won’t be back.”

“None of us know that for sure,” you mumble, “they’re narcos after all like you said.”

��I do, trust me,” Sykes shakes his head, “just don’t bring that boyfriend of yours over here and we won’t have any further problems. Start looking like you use less and take care of yourself more too. I know you have the stuff, Emily,” Sykes raises his brows at you, “you and your boyfriend both do.”

“What? What stuff?” You sneer at him, “you’re accusing me of something even the police didn’t find?”

“Oh fuck the police,” Hotch glowers, “and fuck the narcos—you listen to me very carefully right now. I know you’re gonna sit here and tell me all day you don’t have a fleck of powder on your nose nor have you ever used and all that kind of bullshit, but I can easily prove otherwise to Hotch. You know how many times I’ve watched you just nod off at work?”

“You’re blackmailing me,” your eyes begin to sting with tears, “and for what? Huh? What the fuck have I ever done to you?”

“Nothing!” Hotch raises his voice before immediately lowering it again, “you’re not as innocent as they think you are and you know that. I’m not that much of a saint either, so if you don’t want me to use that shit against you, then don’t use anything against me!”

“What do you want, Sykes?” You spit out, speaking plainly.

“I want something,” he answers, almost whispering. “Sell me the best shit you have—you or your boyfriend, I don’t care but have it on you here and we’ll make the transaction face to face.”

“Ha! No fucking way,” you laugh, stepping away from Sykes. “So you can call Hotch here when I come carrying something? Nice idea, but it’s not gonna work.”

“Everyone in this office is carrying something, Emily,” Sykes mutters under his breath, looking at you with all seriousness. “At least one gram of cocaine at all fucking times in each cubicle. Now you see why I was shitting myself when the narcos got here? They search you, they search me, they search all of us. We’re fucked, then this office goes to shit and we all lose our jobs. You may be inclined to think I’ll jeopardize your job, but the same can happen to me and everyone else.”

“So you want smack,” you point out, looking unimpressed by his “everyone’s corrupt” speech. “That’s why you bothered me? You talk shit about my boyfriend and now you want him to sell you something? God, you sure have sunk real low.”

“Shut up,” Sykes scowls at you, “before I change my mind. Are you gonna get the shit or not?”

“Yeah, I will,” you glare at him, “I’ll get it for you tonight and we’ll meet here at eight PM sharp or I’m calling it off. Best believe I’m ratting on everyone in this office if you bring Hotch or any other fucking narco here.”

“Alright, cut the shit—what else?” Sykes huffs.

“Whatever I’m selling you, it’s gonna be twice as expensive,” you add, “I don’t care. There’s a risk coming here let alone carrying on the street when Hotch is out there itching to arrest someone.”

“Fine, whatever,” Sykes rubs his temples gingerly, sighing deeply. “Name your price then, but I want the shit to last me a good two weeks.”

“Yeah, I can get it for you,” you assure him, glancing around the hallway to make sure nobody’s listening or standing nearby, “now let me leave before people suspect something. Don’t act suspicious or do any stupid shit when I get here—be here at eight PM sharp or you won’t see a gram.”

“Fine, I will,” Sykes backs away from you, “just honor your end of the bargain. I’ll be here.”

~

Coming home from work today, you’re surprised to see Bobby straight for once without being under the influence of anything but you can’t say the same for your unexpected guest—Hank—clearly nodding off on something strong.

Now that Helen’s in jail, you can expect to see Hank around a lot more often and particularly in your apartment too.

Smoking a cigarette and distracted by an action film playing on the television, Bobby has his back slouching against the couch next to Hank who keeps his head low and barely moves a muscle—mumbling incoherently to himself from the heavy high.

You sit by the window length just across from the two, smoking as well to clear your mind and noting Hank’s state is unusually heavy coming from the guy who's the only person you actually know that can “chip” without using. You’ve never seen Hank this slumped before.

Then again, Hank’s using the same smack you and Bobby are using and dealing—Santo’s new stash isn’t nicknamed “dynamite” for no good reason; keeping people in longer, deeper, and intense highs with an increased overdose risk but also the benefit of being straight longer too.

The punch of a high the “dynamite” smack delivers also causes a junkie to feel less sick all the time while craving it more than they would any regular dope. 

But by now the three of you have done nothing but lay around watching a nonsensical film while Hank can barely keep his eyes open, let alone sleep.

Bobby’s been in no mood for conversation and fixated on the film, popping open a can of coke and he’s come to notice how many times you’ve checked your watch—simply thinking you’re bored or waiting for the film to end.

At seven forty-five PM, you check your watch once more but catch Bobby’s eyes over yours, making it apparent he’s noticing.  

You sigh to yourself, attempting to act inconspicuously and play it off as nothing but simple boredom. 

You’ve already taken a bit of Bobby’s stash when you got up to use the bathroom earlier and have no intention of telling him you’re going to sell it to someone—let alone your own boss.

‘It won’t matter anyway,’ you think to yourself, so as long as Bobby doesn’t find out, of course.

Bobby’s stash has more than both of you could possibly want, crave and need, easily pushing onto overdose territory should both of you wish to keep it to yourselves instead of also selling from it.

After all, any money you make today from Sykes goes to both of you, so you have no intention of cheating Bobby with your earnings.

“I’m gonna go,” you smoothen out your shirt, hopping off the windowsill.

“Go?” Bobby glances up at you.

“Yeah,” your eyes wander over to Hank, still in no changed shape. “I’m bored. We’ve been sitting here doing nothing with Hank barely still alive over here. I’m gonna head out to the store and grab a few things.”

“Not gonna wait for me?” Bobby puts his cigarette back in his mouth.

“I’m just going to the store, Bobby,” you shrug your shoulders, “stay with Hank before he has a seizure or something.”

“You’d think a grown-ass man this used to it would know how to use a proper dose by now,” Bobby shakes his head, looking at Hank. 

“He is your brother after all,” you pick up your purse and sling it over your shoulder. “He’s gonna definitely owe you one after tonight.”

“I’ll hold it against him,” Bobby blows out smoke around him, watching you exit the suite.

You purposefully didn’t stay a minute longer back in the suite so as not to raise Bobby’s curiosity or suspicion any further than you may already have—but Bobby’s been wary of you since he caught you repeatedly checking your watch.

You and Sykes have essentially promised one another that this deal is gonna stay between the two of you and you’re not going to get Bobby involved until you have to.

If you can set a good impression on Sykes for this deal and ensure you won’t get arrested or walk into a trap of some kind, you know Sykes will be the exact kind of customer coming for more again and again with cash in his pocket.

Even if you do get caught or ratted out in some way, you’d give yourself in without opening your mouth and so much as mentioning Bobby’s name or anyone else despite doing this deal behind Bobby’s back. 

You get out on the street and begin to walk down the same streetway you always do as if you’re on your way to work only once you begin to approach your work building, you take a left turn around the side of the building and head inside from the entrance there.

The side entrance leads up to the same hallway to get to your office and the security guard on duty makes his rounds outside, smoking a cigarette.

You sigh to yourself in relief once you’re inside, pulling back stray strands of your hair behind your ear but being unable to help thinking if Bobby’s actually questioning your absence.

You’re exactly one minute early by the time you reach the same spot in the hallway you were in with Sykes earlier, only he’s already there with his arms crossed and back leaning against the wall—having arrived ten minutes early in advance.

Sykes’ eyes light up when he sees you approaching. “See? A deal’s a deal.”

“The bare minimum is showing up,” you cautiously eye the hallway before approaching Sykes. “And you’re sure nobody followed you or knows that you’re here?”

“Yeah, believe me, I got here earlier to make sure. The faster you give me this shit, the faster we can both get the fuck out of here and raise less suspicion,” Sykes pulls his leather wallet out from his trousers’ back pocket.

“Relax, otherwise you’ll get caught just by looking as nervous as you are. You don’t know how these things work,” you roll your eyes, opening up your purse. “I got what you wanted and the amount you needed. You said you needed it to last two weeks, right? If you use more than that in less than two weeks, I’m not attending your funeral.”

“You know, even outside of work you still have to respect me,” Sykes frowns, opening his wallet. 

“Whatever. Now, you got the money? I told you this shit is gonna cost double,” you clutch onto the small bag of powder in your palm.

“How much?” Sykes takes a wad of cash out of his wallet.

“Eighty dollars,” you offer, keeping true to the street value but adding more on edge for extra profit. “Take it or leave it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sykes mutters under his breath, “here”. He hands you the cash in twenty-dollar bills. 

You quickly take the cash with one hand and exchange it with the bag of powder from your purse.

Sykes is quick to immediately shove the powder inside the inner pocket of his suit, smoothening out his jacket.

“If you’re gonna make it a habit, you know where to find me,” you carefully tuck the cash into your purse.

“At least now we both know what we can offer one another,” Sykes scoffs, “but you have merit.”

~

Five minutes after you left the suite, Bobby followed right behind you—leaving Hank to himself back inside.

Bobby may have been inclined to believe you were actually walking to the convenience store around the corner like you said since you took no shortcuts and simply walked straight down the street but had you actually been going to the convenience store, you would have bumped into Bobby right outside the apartment lobby.

Bobby figured you were lying from the guilty look in your eyes and odd body language, let alone constantly checking your watch as if you were impatiently waiting for something or late to arrive somewhere.

You made it all the easier for Bobby to follow you because you never bothered to look back nor changed from one sidewalk to another. 

Bobby kept an appropriate distance from you but slipped into an alleyway and crossed the street a few times while following to avoid you potentially seeing or hearing him.

Knowing Upper West Side Manhattan like the back of his hand, tracking you down without getting too close or staying back too far was too simple for Bobby.

Bobby would have made it the entire way had he not gotten packed into an oncoming crowd of pedestrians crossing the street—beginning to lose sight of you.

As Bobby attempted to push through the crowd and maintain a close, yet safe distance from you at the same time, he lost track of you nonetheless.

When the crowd began to fully disperse around Bobby, giving him the opportunity to pick up his pace and make it across the street, he felt a rough hand grab him and pull him back over to the sidewalk.

“You again,” Bobby rolled his eyes, playing it off cool. “Can’t get enough of me anywhere, can you? What are ya gonna do? Arrest me for crossing the street today?”

“Not doing anything,” Hotch replies casually, chewing bubblegum. “Just wanna have a little chat, maybe ask why you’re stalking your own girlfriend.”

“Stalking my girlfriend?” Bobby grins, noticing Hotch’s car parked to the side of the street; making it all the more apparent that he’s been there the entire time—watching and waiting. “Do you hear yourself, man? That’s my girlfriend. I’m just going with her.”

“No, you ain’t,” Hotch stares back at Bobby, unamused. “I’m not stupid, Bobby. I wasn’t born yesterday. You don’t think I know what game both of you are playing right now?”

“The fuck are you talking about, man?” Bobby shifts his weight to the other foot, beginning to grow agitated. “Listen, you can go ahead and ask all your stupid questions but either do it properly and take me down to the police station or get the fuck out of my way.”

“I’ll get out of your way as soon as you stop playing dumb with me,” Hotch asserts, “your girlfriend’s carrying.”

“What?” Bobby glares at Hotch angrily. “She’s carrying? Huh? You can accuse her of that just by seeing her walking?”

“Maybe I can,” Hotch crosses his arms. “But it’s a dead giveaway to me. She’s clutching a specific part of her purse awful tight, looking dead straight ahead and walking. She has someplace to be and she’s carrying something with her.”

“Yeah?” Bobby snorts, holding back his laughter. “You actually believe that? Then what are you telling me for? I call bullshit. You’d go and arrest Emily or harass her as you do to me if you weren’t fuckin’ lying.”

“Unless I see an actual crime committed, I don’t have to do a thing,” Hotch replies. “I know what I can and can’t do Bobby, and so do you.”

“Great, another mommy and daddy lecture,” Bobby sighs loudly, looking around the street. “Can I go back to minding my own business now?”

“You still don’t believe me?” Hotch raises his brows, “that’s fine…” Hotch squints his eyes, looking towards the crowd. “I bet she’s carrying almost a hundred dollars worth of that junk. Looking far too uneasy for it to be cheap and worthless. No, there’s definitely a risk here.”

“Who would she even sell it to?” Bobby narrows his eyes, “you know who she is. She ain’t no dealer, man. Stop bullshitting. She works at Way Enterprises.” 

“Everyone who works at Way Enterprises is an addict, Bobby,” Hotch doesn’t appear impressed whatsoever. “She’s selling to someone at work and you know it’s a matter of time until I catch her and the same goes for you. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time now would it?”

“Fuck you,” Bobby spat by Hotch’s feet and took off back down the street and towards Way Enterprises without another look or word back.

Hotch sighed deeply and remained behind and refusing to stop Bobby nor try to reason with him any further. Hotch has seen this play out a hundred times before in front of his very eyes before already.

By the time Bobby actually reaches Way Enterprises’ building, you’ve already sold Sykes’ piece to him and taken your money.

Unbeknownst to Bobby, he crouched behind a trashcan in the back alleyway connecting to your work building—watching and waiting for you.

When Bobby saw you step out the side entrance and not the front or back exit, he was quick to jump toward the back end to avoid you catching sight of him.

All Bobby could see was how nervous you appeared around Sykes, especially from how the two of you looked at each other; eager to get away and make it look like the two of you were never seen together.

But it was Bobby who also saw Sykes zipping up his fly next to you, telling Bobby everything he needs to know about your little meetup with Sykes behind Bobby’s back, laced with lies.

Bobby’s eyes deadened and drained of all emotion. To him, it looked like nothing more than a sneaky meetup for sex—a hookup of some kind either in exchange for smack, money, or some sort of sick affair you were having with your boss despite your protests and complaints about his nasty behavior and harassment towards you.

You either sucked Sykes off or fucked him; the only reason why you’d lie to Bobby in the first place. 

Bobby trusts you with everything and anything. If you were actually dealing something with Sykes, Bobby would expect you to tell him. After all, both of you stand to gain from it and Bobby would take no issue with it, but you never believed that when it came to dealing with someone like Sykes.

Bobby swallowed hard and began to move out of the alleyway, feeling numbness tingle in his limps from the realization of everything. 

He rakes a frustrated hand through his shaggy hair, letting out a shaky breath as Bobby’s emotions get the better of him—all piling up at once and surging a rush of jealousy and bitterness in his veins.

All Bobby can remember is the last expression on Sykes’ face before the two of you parted ways on the street—a look of nothing but pure satisfaction.

[fandom-puff]

Reunited

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Requested by: anon

Summary: after years of trying to forget her professor, Yn and Severus are reunited in an order meeting

AN: so this is set in Ootp. The reader was in percy Weasley’s year at hogwarts, so that puts her at about 19/20 years old. Flashbacks are written in bold italics.

Gif creds to owner

Warnings: references to teacher/student relationship

“Am I late?” You panted, slipping into the basement kitchen, looking thoroughly frazzled.

“No, love,” Sirius grinned. “Only fashionably. Dumbledore isn’t here yet,”

You let out a sigh of relief and slipped into the bench. “Are you staying for dinner, YN?” Mrs Weasley asked kindly. “You look like you haven’t had a hot meal in a week,”

You smiled at her, not having the heart to tell her that her assumption was true. You had just been too busy. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Mrs Weasley. Oh, Mr Weasley’s on his way home, he just got caught up. Something to do with Mundungus,”

There was a disapproving grumble across the table as everyone muttered about how untrustworthy Dung was. “Oh, nothing too life threatening this time, I think,” you reassured, and soon enough everyone had settled into their own conversations until Dumbledore drifted into the room, closely followed by Severus Snape. 

Instantly, your heart leapt into your throat as you met his dark eyes which widened ever-so-slightly at seeing you for the first time since you left Hogwarts... 

“Detention, Miss YLN,” 

you smirked to yourself. Detentions with Severus were some of your favourite time together. The pair of you had used ‘discipline’ as a thinly veiled excuse to be with one another, sometimes just talking, sometimes cuddling, and a lot of the time, having sex. 

That night, however, when you slipped into the room, Severus had his back to you. 

“This needs to stop, YN,” he had said, his voice barely above a whisper. Instantly you began panicking. 

“Am I... Is it... Have I done something wrong?” you asked, eyebrows tugged together in a deep frown. 

“No... the other day... we were almost caught, by Gryffindor prefects, no less. If word of this got out, it would jeopardize everything. You’d be expelled... I’d lose my job... or get sent to Azkaban...” he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Shaking your head, you grabbed his hand. “W-we can be more careful. Meet up less often... use more wards...” unshed tears glistened in your eyes, and severus felt his heart shatter into a thousand tiny pieces as your lower lip wobbled. “Severus, please...” you whispered, voice cracking. 

Severus pushed your hand away, and the soft expression he always had when around you shifted into its usual harded glare. “Professor Snape to you, YLN. Go back to your common room before I deduct points. You have NEWTS to study for,” 

”Professor!” you exclaimed, drawing the attention of the entire order. “Ahem... erm... I... haven’t seen you since... since school,” you muttered, heat rising to your cheeks as you looked at your lap. 

“Indeed. I haven’t been your professor for a few years now,” he said, his voice drawling, though there was something akin to fondness and concern glinting in his eyes. “Severus will do,” 

for the rest of the meeting, you barely paid attention, eyes constantly flickering to Severus. When he began speaking, however, you looked a little starstruck, hanging onto his every word like you used to do in potions all those years ago. you didn't snap out of it until everyone’s chairs were scraping against the floor as dumbledore called the meeting to an end and dismissed everyone. You hurried to the door, but due to your daze, you were one of the last to leave, and you heart jumped again at the sound of a low, familiar voice calling your name. 

Turning to face Severus, you looked up at him, a worried expression on your face as you nibbled your lower lip. “A word?” he asked, jutting his head over to the pantry. Ah, you thought, a meeting in a store cupboard, just like old times. 

You nodded and followed him, hoping to god the remaining order members who were trickling out of the door didn’t notice. You shut the pantry door behind him and looked up at him expectantly. When he didn’t speak, you sighed, shaking your head. “What are you doing?” you asked weakly, your shoulders withering as you slumped against the door, head in hands. “Gonna send me away again and threaten to deduct points?” 

Severus sighed softly. “YN... I asked to speak with you, didn’t I? Why would I immediately send you away?” 

In a small voice, you murmured “Because that’s what you did last time,” despite yourself, tears began to fall and your shoulders shook gently. Severus looked pained, and swooped over to engulf you in a hug, the type that used to soothe you. Only now, it seemed to rile you up as you tried to shove him away, hitting his firm chest as you sobbed. “You bastard!” you cried, all the fight in you leaving as you collapsed into his arms, letting him embrace you. When you had sufficiently calmed down, severus held you at arms length, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Listen to me. No interruptions, alright?” you nodded. “I cannot put into words how sorry I am for the pain and heartbreak that I have put you through for the past two years. I’m sorry I ended things the way I did. I’m sorry I pushed you away and cut you off so quickly,” 

“You said it yourself, Severus... it needed to be done,” you murmured, voice still a little shaky. “You would’ve lost your job because of me,” 

“What happened between us, YN, wasn’t just your doing. It was mine too, and undoubtedly, you’ve been blaming yourself this whole time, and I should’ve made that clear. I should’ve ended it differently-”

“But you didn’t,” you muttered bitterly. 

“I know,” he said firmly. “But... things have changed. And if... if...”

“Severus... are you asking to... if we can...” you asked, as speechless as he had become. Before severus could reply, your lips were pressed against his in a soft yet passionate kiss, all the things left unsaid spilling out as his lips began moving against yours. You were vaguely aware of your cheeks getting wet, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your tears or severus’s tears. 

It was both. 

As you pulled apart, still in one another’s arms, you smiled up at severus. “I’ll take  that as a yes?” he asked gently, stroking your tears away with his thumb.

“Of course, you daft git,” you laughed. “I’ve bloody missed you... two years... we don’t have to hide anymore...” you mused aloud as severus pulled you to his chest. 

“Indeed. Come on, YN... sack off dinner here. Let’s find a cafe, a pub, anything. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Tag List: @a-hopeless-fan​ @lotsoffandomrecs​ @justanotherwildstar​ @rai-strangebr​ @zodiyack​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @dumbfuckinslytherin​ @severuslovebot​ @darkthought15​ @strawberriesonsummer​  @rabeccablake​ @sambucky8​

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 128

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,500ish

Summary: Tony works to save Dr. Strange and Y/N. The fugitive Avengers find their way to the compound. (gifs aren’t mine)

As the alien started guiding the piece of pavement towards the giant circular ship, the cloak that was around Strange tore itself free and flew the piece of pavement away.

“No!” The alien yelled, following after it.

Iron Man and Spider-Man were both fighting off the large alien in the nearby park Tony had crashed into, when the pavement piece flew passed. All Tony could see was the cloak and the alien following, so he knew it was Strange and that he was in trouble.

“Kid, that’s wizard,” Tony told Peter, blocking an attack. “Get on it.”

“On it!” Peter replied, quickly swinging in that direction.

Spider-Man chased after the skinny alien, who was floating speedily and upright on a small platform of burbling debris. Swinging in between the pavement and the alien, Peter tried to tie up the alien. The alien attacked back, throwing a billboard at Spider-Man.

“Not cool!” Peter responded.

The alien bent all the utility poles in the path of the feeing clock, finally snagging the garment and ripping it loose of the pavement. Spider-Man re-arrived on the scene, finally noticing something.

“Uh, Mr. Stark? We have a problem,” Peter’s nervous voice rang over the comms.

“What is is kid?” Tony replied, still fighting off the larger alien. “I’m kinda in the middle—“

“Both the wizard and Miss Rogers are unconscious on the floating piece of road.”

“What?! I’ll be right there!”

Peter swung down to the pavement and stood on it, careful to not step on Strange or Y/N. Bending down, he went to break Y/N free when a cone of blue light began to pull the group upwards. Spider-Man jumped off, grabbing onto the nearest light post while using his webbing to try and keep the piece of pavement in place. The alien quickly uprooted the light post, sending Dr. Strange, the cloak, Y/N, and Peter on their way to the circular ship.

“Uhhh, Mr. Stark?” Peter called again. “I’m being beamed up!”

“Hang on, kid!” Tony responded.

Before Tony could fly over there, the giant alien he was fighting pinned Tony to the ground by his hammer that doubled as a claw. As the giant jumped towards Iron Man, blades ready to end the fight, he was sent through a portal instead. The alien turned and leaped  to return back through the portal, but Wong rapidly closed it and only the giant’s severed hand made its way back to the park. Bruce kicked the hand way with a noise of disgust. Iron Man then shook himself free of the weapon.

“Wong, you’re invited to my future wedding!” Tony exclaimed before beginning to fly towards the large ship. “Give me a little juice, FRIDAY.”

Iron Man’s foot thrusters suddenly morphed together into a single larger thruster, increasing his speed considerably. 

Peter, not being able to keep hold of the pavement piece, was hanging onto the ship as it flew up into space. The alien and the piece of pavement with Strange and Y/N on it, had disappeared into the ship. Tony knew that Peter wasn’t going to be able to hold on or breathe for much longer.

“Unlock 17-A,” Tony ordered FRIDAY. “Pete, you gotta let go. I’m gonna catch you.”

“But you said save the wizard!” Peter responded. Gasping from lack of oxygen, Peter ripped off his mask. “I can’t breathe!”

“You’re too high up. You’re running out of air.”

“Yeah! That makes sense.”

Quickly, Peter passed out, free-falling, but not before the pod Tony had set out reached him. It attached itself to him, becoming a new suit. Now being able to breathe, Spider-Man landed on the bottom part of the ship.

“Mr. Stark, it smells like a new car in here!” Peter commented.

“Happy trails, kid,” Tony replied. “FRIDAY, send him home.”

“Yep,” FRIDAY answered.

A large parachute extended from the new Spider-Man suit, spending him back towards earth.

“Oh, come on!” Peter shouted.

Iron Man latched onto the hull and cut a hole to board the ship, looking for wherever Strange and Y/N were taken.

“Boss, I have lifeforms detected in the ship,” FRIDAY informed. “One of them is most likely Agent Rogers.”

“Can you tell me if she’s breathing?”

A pause. “It appears she is.”

“Okay… I need you to—“

“I’m sorry, Boss, but we seem to be losing connection. We’re too far away from—“ Then FRIDAY”s line cut.

~~~

“Still no word from Vision?” The holographic image of Secretary Ross asked Rhodey. Rhodey was at the compound, dealing with the red tape.

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh,” Rhodey replied.

“On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world's most wanted criminals.”

“You know they're only criminals because you've chosen to call them that, right, sir?”

“My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own.”

“If it weren't for those Accords, Vision would've been right here.”

“I remember your signature on those papers, Colonel.”

“That's right. And I'm pretty sure I've paid for that.”

“You have second thoughts?”

“Not anymore.”

Suddenly, the fugitive Avengers (Sam, Wanda, Nat, and Steve) entered the room. Vision was being supported by Sam.

“Mr. Secretary,” Steve greeted, firmly.

“You got some nerve,” Ross said, hologram walking up to the Captain. “I’ll give you that.”

“You could use some of that right now,” Natasha replied.

“The world's on fire. And you think, all is forgiven?”

“I'm not looking for forgiveness. And I'm way past asking for permission,” Steve stated. “Earth just lost her best defender. So we're here to fight.” He took a step towards the hologram. “And if you wanna stand in our way… we’ll fight you too.” 

Ross turned to Rhodes. “Arrest them.”

“All over it,” Rhodey responded before swiping off the hologram. “That’s a court-martial. It’s great to see you, Cap.”

The two men hugged. “You too, Rhodey,” Steve responded before Natasha went to hug Rhodey.

“Well. You guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of years.”

“Yeah, well, the hotels weren’t exactly five star,” Sam commented.

“Uh, I think you look great,” Bruce nervously walked in from the opposite end of the room. “Uh… heh… Yeah. I’m back.”

“Hi, Bruce,” Nat greeted softly.

“Nat.”

“This is awkward,” Sam whispered.

Steve looked around. “Has anyone heard from Y/N?” He asked. “She’d want to know—“

“She’s missing too, Steve,” Bruce interrupted. “When I found Tony to get his help, Y/N was with him.”

“She was… she was with him? But Y/N’s a fugitive as well. How—“

“Mr. Stark and Miss Rogers have been sneaking around,” Vision cut Steve off.

“What?!” Steve and Rhodey exclaimed.

“It’s been happening for about a year now.”

“Miss Rogers has been seeing Boss and Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY clarified. “Trying to work through her feelings.”

“Thats… and she never…” Steve was at a loss for words.

“You didn’t try to reach out to her either, Cap,” Sam said. “You even knew she was staying in Wakanda. T’Challa told you. And you refused to reach out.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, looking at Bruce.

“She got captured,” Bruce explained. “Tony went after the ship to protect her and the Time Stone.”

“Why don’t we take this into the other room?” Rhodey suggested. “Perhaps get you guys something to drink.”

They went into the next room over, each standing or sitting around the room. Bruce explained more of what happened and the other group explained what happened to them.

“So we gotta assume they’re coming back, right?” Rhodey questioned.

“And they can clearly find us,” Wanda added.

“We need all hands on deck,” Bruce stated. “Where’s Clint?”

“After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal,” Nat answered. “It was too tough on their families, they're on house arrest.”

“Who’s Scott?”

“Ant-Man,” Steve replied.

“There's an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man? Okay, look… Thanos has the biggest army in the universe. And he is not gonna stop until he... he gets... Vision's Stone.”

“Well then, we have to protect it,” Nat stated.

“No, we have to destroy it,” Vision said. "I've been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head, about its nature. But also, its composition. I think if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something, very similar to its own signature, perhaps… its molecular integrity could fail.”

“And you, with it,” Wanda said. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it.”

“That’s too high a price.”

Vision took Wanda’s face gently with both hands. “With Y/N off world, only you have the power to pay it.” Wanda walked away, distressed. “Thanos threatens half the Universe. One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him.”

“But it should,” Steve said, looking at Vision. “We don’t trade lives, Vision.”

“Captain, 70 years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people. Tell me, why is this any different?”

“Because you might have a choice,” Bruce suggested. “Your mind is made up of a complex construct of overlays. JARVIS, Ultron, Tony, me, the Stone. All of them mixed together. All of them learning from one another.”

“You’re saying Vision isn’t just the Stone?” Wanda asked.

“I'm saying that if we take out the Stone, there's still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts.”

“Can we do that?” Nat wondered.

“Not me. Not here.”

“You better find someone, and somewhere fast,” Rhodey said. “Ross isn't exactly just gonna let you guys have your old rooms back.”

“I know somewhere,” Steve stated. “Wakanda. But someone first has to explain how Y/N has anything to do with the Stone.”

“70 years ago, the Tesseract chose her to be the protector of the Stones,” Vision explained, knowing the story due to housing the Mind Stone in his head. “That’s how she survived the fall. The Tesseract holds the Space Stone. Her powers come for each of the Stones, so she has the power to destroy the Stones, by channeling them. Y/N is able to wield and control the all the Stones.”

“What I showed her…” Wanda said quietly. “It was the Stone… Y/N’s the key to stopping Thanos.”

~~~

T’Challa already knew Y/N was missing before Steve had contacted him. With Okoye and two other guards, he made his way to Bucky’s place. Bucky was throwing bags onto a partly-filled car, being watched by two village children.

“You’ll have the Kingsgaurd, and the Dora Milaje have been alerted,” Okoye told T’Challa as they made their way towards Bucky’s small hut. 

“And the Border Tribe?” T’Challa wondered.

“Those that are left.”

“Send word to the Jabari as well. M’Baku likes a good fight.”

“And what of this one?” Okoye looked at Bucky, just down the hill.

“This one may be tired of war. But the White Wolf has rested long enough.”

They made their way to Bucky. The guards set an elaborate and high-tech looking case down on the cart. They opened the lid to reveal the black and gold vibranium arm that Bucky had worn on Valentine’s Day.

Bucky sighed. “Where’s the fight?” He asked.

“On its way,” T’Challa answered. “And, Barnes…” The King glanced over at Okoye. “There’s something else. It’s about Y/N.”

Bucky was immediately alert. “What is it?”

“She’s missing.”

~~~

Dr. Strange was floating horizontally, face down, surrounded by dozens of long, glassy needles, as the alien interrogated him. Y/N was still unconscious, tied to the pavement off to the side.

“In all the time I’ve served Thanos, I’ve never failed him,” the alien told Dr. Strange. “If I were to reach our rendezvous on Titan with the Time Stone still attached to your vaguely irritating person, there would be... judgement.” The needles began to contact Dr. Strange’s face, causing pain. “Give me… the Stone.”

Tony was watching, hiding from above. After receiving a tap on the arm, Tony turned around, hand up and ready to shoot. Tony stood stand after seeing that it was the cloak.

“Wow, you’re a seriously loyal piece of outerwear, aren’t you?” Tony commented.

“Yeah, un speaking of loyalty…”

Tony and the cloak turn, completely shocked, to see Peter dropping down from above.

“What the—“

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Peter interrupted, holding his hands out.

“You should not be here,” Tony stated.

“I was gonna go home—“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But it was such a long way down and I just thought about you and Y/N on the way—”

“And now I gotta hear it.”

“—and I kinda stuck to the side of the ship. And this suit is ridiculously intuitive, by the way. So if anything, it’s kinda your fault that I’m here.”

Both the cloak and Tony looked shocked, again. “What did you just say?”

“I take that back. And now I’m here in space.”

“Yeah.” Tony went to stand right in front of Peter. “Right where I don’t want you to be. This isn’t Coney Island. This isn't a field trip. It's a one-way ticket. You hear me? Don't pretend like you thought this through. You could not have possibly thought this through.”

"No. I did think this through.”

“You could not have possibly thought this through.”

“It's just .. you can't be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if there's no neighborhood.” Peter waited to get something from Tony, but nothing. “Okay. That didn't really make any sense, but you know what I'm trying to say.”

Tony let out a shaky breath. “Come on. We got a situation.” 

Tony led Peter over to where they could see Dr. Strange, Y/N, and the alien. Peter crouched down to study the situation and the cloak leaned over his shoulder.

“See him down there?” Tony pointed to Dr. Strange. “He’s in trouble. And Y/N laying over there as well. What’s your plan? Go.”

“Um. Okay, okay… uh…” Peter stuttered, trying to think. He and the cloak popped back upright. “Okay. Did you ever see this really old movie, Aliens?”

~~~

Meanwhile, the Stones were talking to an unconscious Y/N.

“You can’t stop what’s coming… it will come, no matter what. You are being saved for the final battle… we will stop you from doing anything to prevent what needs to happen. What’s supposed to happen… someday, you will understand. There are things meant to be learned, things meant to happen, that we will not let you stop… use your powers wisely.”

She gasped quietly, waking up. Y/N quickly studied her surroundings. She could feel the Time Stone close before she noticed the predicament Dr. Strange was in. The glass spikes were pressing into Strange’s skin, causing him to let out a groan.

“Painful, aren’t they?” The alien taunted. Ebony Maw, the name was, Y/N finally getting inside his head. “They were originally designed for microsurgery. And any one of them—“

There was a thump behind Maw, he turned to see Iron Man standing there. Tony’s hand repulsers were ready to fire. Y/N closed her eyes and focused on getting out of the utility ropes without making a big scene.

“—could end your friend’s life in an instant,” Maw continued.

“I gotta tell you, he’s not really my friend,” Tony responded. “Saving his life is more a professional courtesy.”

“Ah, yes. It’s the girl you’re really after.” Maw walked slowly towards Iron Man, beckoning very large metal objects to float behind him. “Too bad you’ve saved nothing. Your powers are inconsequential compared to mine.”

“Yeah, but the kid’s seen more movies.”

Iron Man fired a rocket from his shoulder which pierces the side of the ship to Maw’s right and began to suck everything out with depressurization, including Y/N. She quickly portaled herself to behind Tony, relieving herself from the binds. Maw was sucked out into space quickly. Dr. Strange was pulled loose of his bindings and the needles, also heading for the hole. The cloak quickly wrapped around Dr. Strange, trying to keep him inside. Strange and the cloak lost their grip, but Spider-Man shot a web strand, holding him in place. Or trying to. 

The web broke, sending both Strange and Peter towards space. Suddenly, Peter’s suit releases metal spider-like arms, keeping him from being sucked out. Y/N quickly portaled Strange behind her.

“Yes!” Peter shouted, looking at the metal arms. “Wait, what are those?!”

Using the metal arms, Peter leaped to get to a safer place. Tony quickly sprayed nano-particles onto the hole to plug it. Spider-Man landed on his new legs, quickly retracted them. He found the cloak hovering next to him. 

“Hey, we haven’t officially met,” Peter said, offering the cloak his hand. It ignored it, going straight to Strange. “Cool.”

Tony’s suit quickly disappeared back into the arc reactor as he rushed to Y/N. He grabbed onto her arms, examining her body for any injuries.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He asked. Tony’s hands found a place on her cheeks. “Tell me you’re—“

“I’m fine, Tony,” she responded. “I’m fine.”

He gave her a kiss before pulling her in for a hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m fine.” She hugged him back, breathing him in. “I’m fine.”

“We’ve gotta turn this ship around,” Strange stated.

“Yeah. Now he wants to run,” Tony replied. “Great plan.”

“No, I want to protect the Stone.”

Tony walked towards the front window, showing that they were speeding. “And I want you to thank me now. Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“For what? Nearly blasting me into space?”

“Who just saved your magical ass? Me.”

“Technically it was me,” Y/N added.

“I seriously don’t know how you fit your head into that helmet,” Strange scoffed.

“Admit it. You should have ducked out when I told you to,” Tony continued. “I tried to bench you. You refused.”

“I tried to bench your girlfriend, yet she refused as well. And, unlike everyone else in your life, I don’t work for you.”

“And due to that fact, we’re now in a flying doughnut billions of miles away from Earth with no backup.”

“I’m backup,” Peter said, raising his hand.

“No. You’re a stowaway.” Tony pointed his finger between himself and Strange. “The adults are talking.”

“I’m sorry, I’m confused as to the relationship here,” Strange said. “Wh—what is he, your ward?”

“No,” Peter responded. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Dr. Strange.”

“Oh, we're using our made-up names. Um... I'm Spider-Man, then."

“Peter,” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

“This ship is self-correcting its course,” Tony stated. “Thing’s on autopilot.”

“Can we control it?” Strange asked, walking closer to Tony. “Fly us home.”

Tony, looking out in space, was lost in bad memories. Of going through the portal, of what Wanda showed him. 

“Tony?” Y/N called softly, stepping towards him. She was concerned. 

“Yeah?” He responded. He met her gaze briefly, quickly looking away cause it was not the time for him to be freaking out or for her to be reading him.

“Can you get us home?” Strange asked.

“Yeah. I heard you. I’m thinking… I’m not so sure we should.”

“What?” Y/N questioned. “Why?”

“Under no circumstance can we bring the Time Stone to Thanos,” Strange stated. “I don't think you quite understand what's at stake here.”

Tony talked over to Strange. “No. It's you who doesn't understand, that Thanos has been inside my head for six years since he sent an army to New York and now he's back! And I don't know what to do. Because I am not sacrificing Y/N for the sake of the universe, for whatever the Stones have told her is her destiny. So I'm not so sure if it's a better plan to fight him on our turf or his but you saw what they did, what they can do. At least on his turf, he's not expecting it. So I say we take the fight to him. Doctor. Do you concur?”

Strange was silent for a moment. “Alright, Stark. We go to him. But you have to understand... if it comes to saving you or the kid or the Time Stone... I will not hesitate to let either of you die. I can't, because the fate of the universe depends on it.”

“Nice. Good. Moral compass. We're straight.” Tony stepped over to Peter, formally tapping each of Peter’s shoulders. “Alright kid. You’re an Avenger now.”

“You skipped me,” Y/N said, walking up to Strange.

“Excuse me?” He questioned.

“You said that if it came between saving Tony, Peter, or the Time Stone, that you’d choose the Time Stone… but what about me?”

“You and I both know, Y/N, that the Stones will not let you die until you have completed what they need you for. No matter what that may be.”

next chapter >

PLEASE FILL FREE TO SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS AND THEORIES! 

DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT THE QUESTIONS AND ONESHOTS ON THE MASTERLIST. MANY OF YOU HAVEN’T CHECKED OUT VALENTINE’S DAY, I SUGGEST YOU DO!

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[kokororyuu]

once more [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: it was impossible. he would never see you again, levi thought, but perhaps he had jinxed himself. though he didn’t regret a single thing.

warnings ⚠️: angst, major character death(s), manga SPOILERS, (brief) suicidal thoughts, brief description of gore

word count: 2k

author’s note: i think this is one of my best works yet, like i literally LOVE love this one :>>, i think the only part i was kinda “ehhh” about was the part where [eradicated] dies because i cannOT write gore </3, but either way, have fun reading, bubs!!

PART ONE: miles apart

he missed you.

god, he missed you so much.

he still remembered your touch, your smile, your words, no matter how irritating they’d get when they interfered with work, but he couldn’t even blame you for being on his mind. after all, it was him who was attracted to you.

and in your last moments, you had whispered the same to him.

you were so addictive, like the tea he served himself daily. not too bitter, not too sweet, a perfect mix of flavors that seemed to wash away his unspoken confessions on the tip of his tongue every time he took another sip, leaving a bitter aftertaste and unsettled emotions.

levi couldn’t stay still in his office, burying himself in paperwork only to change his mind and toss his quill down with a sigh. he drew back the curtain in his office to stare blankly at the moon, now full as it had been that day; bright, blue, and breathtakingly beautiful. he scoffed at himself, he couldn’t believe he had caught himself gawking at the moon, its light casting shadows that danced around his room with the swishing curtains.

he just wanted to see you once more.

not mangled and broken, bleeding out beside him outside the walls, but with that familiar smile of yours that shone brighter than the stars, the sun, and held warmth that levi craved so badly.

the thought lingered for a second as he continued to gaze at the moon before he shook his head, how foolish of me, to think he would be able to see you again. his fingers traced the windowsill as he stayed deep in thought, maybe in another life, he mused before pulling out a book hange gave him from one of the drawers on his desk, lighting a lamp and beginning to read where he had previously left off…

“then i defy you, stars!”

levi didn’t know how he ended up in this position.

having fought over a dozen of titans, most abnormal, on his own after all of the cadets he had taken with him died, it wasn’t a surprise that he couldn’t avoid the quick swing of the titan on his left as he tried to dig his last pair of blades, now dull, into another titan’s nape.

he would’ve gotten up, could’ve gotten up, but he had sustained severe injuries earlier from trying to save the other cadets as well as save himself.

this was bad, really bad,

or maybe it wasn’t.

levi didn’t have the choice to decide, his limbs numb from the abuse and gaze hazy as he eyed the titan’s unusual gait, its figure stomping closer and closer. a heavy breath pushed past his lips as he used the last of his adrenaline rush to hook his odm gear into a nearby tree, swinging up onto a high branch and propping himself against it.

he wheezed, oxygen exiting his lungs and leaving him completely and utterly breathless from the exertion, but he figured that if he was up here, he at least wouldn’t die from the jaws of those horrid beasts and by this antagonizing blood loss instead.

blood seeped out from his wounds slowly and dyed his tattered uniform red, and with the silence and his vision fading in and out, he found himself thinking back to just a few months prior, his gaze latched onto the moon that peeked through the trees.

he wondered if he’d look like how you did that day, lifeless, cold, empty, soulless. he hoped your death wasn’t as painful as this, because no matter how numb the winter that nipped at his skin made him feel, there was still the hot searing pain spreading from the gaping wound on his side.

did you go through this much pain? did you suffer?

if it weren’t from the injuries, was it from his ignorance and blatant refusal to spare just a glance at you before you passed?

death was never a scary thing to levi, at least, not his own. he imagined times where it might’ve been better to just end it all. less suffering, less pain, no more losing loved ones. he hoped you felt the same when you died, that you left without regrets after your whispered-out words of confession.

once more,

he laughed, though it sounded more like a gurgle with all the blood pushing past his lips with every slowing rise and fall of his chest. he guessed it was about time his wish came true.

and then everything went black, and levi was swallowed up by oh-so-sweet embrace of the afterlife.

“levi?” a familiar voice called out in both confusion and surprise. “i wasn’t expecting you here this soon,”

he opened his eyes faster than he should’ve, immediately squinting at how bright it was, wherever he was. he wasn’t on a tree branch bleeding out anymore, instead, he was laying on soil, the dirt soft under his fingertips. the sky was bright and blue, a contrast to the dark sky of night that was only lit by the lonesome moon a second ago.

and most importantly, there was erwin, commander erwin, crouching down by his side with a look of mirth. levi’s gaze flickered around the area, eyeing cadets he remembered from years ago up and about, laughing and conversing with one another.

what is this, some type of heaven? he doubted that was what this was with all the death he had brought upon humanity, but he was sure this was some type of afterlife. erwin let out a soft chuckle at levi’s bewildered glare that demanded answers to silent questions.

“i know you have inquiries, but it’d be best to save them for later. i’m sure there’s people who’d like to see you first,” he stood to his feet and reached out a hand toward the other, him hesitantly grabbing onto it and pulling himself up from the ground. levi let himself be led to a circle of people chatting amongst themselves with bright smiles.

they welcomed him with open arms, poking fun at his arrival and calling him, “a newbie to the afterlife,” with his rapid fire questioning and quick glances around the open field.

“you’re looking for them, aren’t you, captain?” a former scout called out and teased.

levi couldn’t deny the obviously true accusation, scowling and crossing his arms as a defense mechanism, “zip it, cadet. afterlife or not, i can still beat your ass,” a few giggles and laughs erupted from the group while some sheepishly tried to cover them up with coughs and clearing their throats.

it was true, he was looking for you. he had hoped you would’ve been the first person he saw, but you were nowhere to be found. an anxious feeling gnawed at him and thoughts filled with doubt swirled in his chest.

did you not want to see him?

you probably didn’t, especially after what he had done.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

the words stained his conscience red.

“i'm leaving,” levi turned on his heels and began walking without waiting for a response. erwin rose a brow at his murmur but nodded nonetheless, bidding him goodbye.

the skies were so blue, littered with white clouds that levi felt he could touch if he so wished to with just a raise of his hand. there was no sun, surprisingly enough

with how bright the afterlife was, and he was thankful for this. no sun meant no heat, no hot days that needed to be fought through or sweaty palms and heavily drawn breaths.

however, no sun meant no moon.

it was strange to not have nighttime anymore, no more stars to gaze at as he thought to himself and let those thoughts consume him. did they sleep? levi swept the area with his eyes and didn’t see a single room or bed. he wasn’t going to get used to this anytime soon, though he was thankful for how he strangely felt energized, or at least not drained from his insomnia like he usually was.

nevermind that, levi shook his head before scanning the area once more, where were you? he felt like his feet had been bringing him in circles—had he seen that cadet already? had this person already greeted him?—perhaps he was just lost at this point, in a crowd of people he knew or never seen before, but out of everyone there, there wasn’t a single sign of you.

he noticeably slumped, maybe he’d never see you again like he had prepared himself for. he didn’t deserve it after all.

but oh, did he miss you.

levi squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment and sighed, a furrow in his brow as he tried to settle the sudden drop of disappointment that settled in his stomach.

he just wanted to see you once more.

“levi!”

the man nearly tripped over his own feet at the voice that called for him. levi felt his heart soar, his skin buzz in anxiety, anticipation, hope.

he turns and—

it’s you.

you were running toward him from across the field filled with numerous scouts, weaving through the bustling crowd with that grin of yours, and your eyes, his light, twinkling so brightly at him.

you were coming closer and closer, and if levi just reached his arm out he could—

wait, his arm froze midair, his foot catching on the ground as he paused before your open arms.

he was scared.

in your last moments, he had completely ignored you, had watched you leave the world as you confessed your love with your last dying breath. maybe you wouldn’t want to see him, to hear his pathetic excuses and apologies, but alas, you proved him wrong, surging forward in the second of hesitation and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

levi tensed up, his arms hovering in the air like an idiot before he heard you murmur, “just relax, levi,”

and with those few words, levi felt every single tension in his body leave within seconds, his hands coming up to grip onto the back of your shirt as if begging you not to leave him, again.

though the whole situation felt so surreal, and he felt if he didn’t hug you tight enough, you’d slip through his fingertips, never to be seen again.

you were real, levi came to this revelation when he buried his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, your heartbeat thumping as wildly as his as the two of you embraced.

“hi again, levi,” you brushed a hand through his ebony black hair with a breathless laugh.

“hello, my light,” levi whispered softly, sending a tickling breath to your neck, though he was pretty sure you heard if the little squeeze you gave around his shoulders were any indicator. you pulled away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes twinkling with such adoration, god, it was like you could see the stars.

“you know...” he murmured, his eyes closing and hiding their galaxies. levi felt his heartbeat pick up, and his hands trembled as they squeezed at your waist.

you were patient, tracing soothing patterns into his nape as you tugged him just a little closer, your lips brushing against his ever so slightly and sending a sweet chill down his spine. he almost became distracted from his original goal, his lips mindlessly chasing yours but stopping at the little tug you gave his head of hair. “go on, levi,”

god, had he missed the way you said his name. it sounded so perfect, and with your soft encouragement, levi drew in another shaky breath, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “the moon was always beautiful,”

explanations:

“i defy you, stars!”

this is a quote from shakespeare’s “romeo and juliet” !!! i interpret it as levi going against fate to be with you again :>

“the moon was always beautiful,”

this is a connection to “miles apart.” he’s basically saying that he has always loved you :D

[out-of-control]

CRASH

words: 1404

warnings: violence

summary: Jax thinks maybe the whole thing has been a car crash in slow motion.

Jax thinks maybe the whole thing has been a car crash in slow motion. But just because you can see the guardrail coming doesn’t mean you can get out of its way. 

"You have to-- I'm going fucking crazy, man,” he begs, digging fingers into his opposite wrist so hard he feels tendons shifting, “I can't stand it. You have to tell me shit like this, you have to let me in."

"I can't," Jim replies, sounding crazed, stalking back and forth like a caged leopard. "If I-- I can't, Jax, I can't. The more you know the more it'll hurt. The worse it'll be."

"How the absolute fuck," Jax snarls, wiping his eyes on the back of his arm, "can it get any worse."

"Can't you fucking see?" Jim says. "I'm fucking cursed, it will take you down with me, and--" he pauses, clenches a fist so hard Jax half-imagines Jim’s bones popping through his skin, poor fucking baby, "--and I can't let that happen to you. I can't lose you."

Jax barks out a laugh. "Un-fucking-believable." He raises his stinging eyes to the ceiling. "Unbelievable. Are you hearing yourself?”

Jim apparently doesn't have anything to say to that, so Jax decides to elaborate. He feels furious, incandescent, dangerous, like iron at its boiling point, a breached gas tank dripping onto asphalt.

"Tell me, are you hard right now?" Jax spits viciously. "Are you getting off on it? Should I grovel? Should I get on my knees?" He swivels on his heel, kicks the makeshift milk crate coffee table clear across the fucking room, then marches over to Jim and gets right up in his personal space, nearly nose to nose, lips pulled back in a snarl. "You tell me you can't 'do relationships'," he hisses in Jim’s face, "And then you touch me like I've never been touched before. You disappear for days on end, and then you show up sleeping on my couch like you think you belong there. You give me a dozen black eyes, and then you teach me how to play bass. Make up your fucking mind," he seethes. "I let you fuck me whenever you want and you know-- you fucking know how I feel. You've known this entire goddamn time," Jax continues, hating the tears sliding unbidden down his face. He scrubs them off violently, before saying, "You know. And you don't care. You're stringing me along feeding me fucking scraps and I'm so fucking gone on you I don't just put up with it, I fucking beg for it--"

He's cut off abruptly as Jim grabs him roughly by the lapels of his jacket and yanks him close, a familiar move now totally divorced from any good memories it previously held. "Hold on," Jim says, sounding deathly serious, staring Jax straight in the eye. "Do you really believe that?" Jax squirms reflexively, but Jim has him tight, immobilizing him like a stuck seatbelt. "Genuinely," he continues, slowly. "Do you think I'm leading you on for fun?"

Jax flounders, not having expected that response from Jim. "I literally cannot fucking tell anymore," he breathes, heart pounding. He thinks of blue eyes and black hair and he hates it he hates it he hates that he doesn't know, he can't fucking trust anything anymore. He hates what he is and he hates that he doesn't know if he's earned this pain, if he deserves what he's getting, if he's even being wronged at all. 

"Sometimes I think you actually fucking love me back," he says, looking over Jim's shoulder into the distance with a twisted, bitter smile. "But I’m going out of my fucking mind, so."

A tense silence hangs in the air between them.

Jim stares through him, and nods slowly. He looks like he's been stabbed in the gut. He lets go of Jax's jacket. Then he closes his eyes, takes a long, slow breath, and opens them again. With his words, the windshield shatters, a thousand spiderwebbing cracks turning what was once transparent nearly opaque. 

"I'm leaving town."

Oh. Okay. He's leaving town. 

Jax immediately throws a punch. 

His knuckles smash into Jim's cheekbone, sparking up bursts of red-hot pain beneath Jax's skin. And Jim just takes it. Doesn't slip out of the way. Doesn't even flinch. Simply reels backwards from the force of it, without a word. 

Jax shakes his hand out, breathing ragged, vision blurred. 

And then Jim, almost involuntarily, barely more than a whisper, says, "I don't want to."

Jax freezes. He stands completely still for a second, unable to even breathe. He takes a step forward. Then another. His legs are steady, but it feels like a limp nonetheless. 

And then he fists his hands gently in the front of Jim's shirt and presses their lips together, slow and soft and pleading, and isn’t he pathetic? Look, his brain says as he tilts his head ever so slightly, catching Jim's lower lip between his. Look what you can have. Look how good it can be. Somewhat desperately, he opens his mouth a little wider, trying to coax Jim in deeper, and it's the wrong fucking move because Jim instantly jerks back, hands coming up to clamp around Jax's biceps and roughly pull them apart.

"You fucking see this," Jim says, sounding agonized. He hangs his head, forehead knocking against Jax's, eyes squeezed shut. "This is why I have to. I'm fucking ruining you."

"So ruin me," Jax rasps, desperate. He clenches his hands tighter in the fabric of Jim's shirt. "You'll kill me if you leave. I swear to fucking God you will kill me."

"I'll kill you if I stay," Jim retorts, and he sounds so, so pained, like there’s twisted metal and broken glass caught in his throat.

Abruptly, Jax feels exhausted. 

He gazes down at his hands, making fists in Jim's t-shirt. HELL/BENT, his knuckles say, and Jax certainly is bent, if not straight up broken. He doesn't have anything left but this: "Please don't go," he whispers, sounding as small as he feels.

One heartbeat, two heartbeats. And then Jim just breaks. He shakes himself free from Jax's grip and stumbles past him, collapsing onto the couch with his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking so violently Jax is briefly terrified he's having a seizure, and then he realizes, no, that's not it at all. Jim's crying. 

"You can't convince me you're happy like this," Jim sobs, sounding wretched.

Oh, but he could be. He could be, he could be, they could be so happy. And they are, sometimes. Sometimes they're so sweet to each other. Why can't they be sweet all the time? Why can't they stop hurting one another?

Lump in his throat, Jax slowly makes his way over to the couch and sits down, at the opposite end. "No," he says quietly, elbows on his knees, "Not now. But sometimes." He coughs a little to clear his throat, then continues, "Sometimes you're the only thing in the world that makes me happy." He feels like there's a fish hook caught in his heart, with the line stretching down the length of the ratty couch to the man on the other side. He doesn't know if Jim holds the end of the line in his hands or in his heart, or if the distinction even matters anymore. For what feels like the millionth time that night, Jax begins to cry.

They sit there, frozen at opposite ends of Jax's couch, too terrified, too hurt to reach across the empty space between them. And they both weep, for what feels like hours and hours, until there isn't any water left for tears. 

Then Jim stands up. He tilts his body away from Jax and hesitates, holding himself as if he's trying to decide whether to say something.

Jax watches him silently, red rimmed eyes burning like gasoline.

In the end, Jim says nothing. He picks his jacket up off the back of the chair, walks over to the door, opens it, and steps over the threshold. The door closes behind him. He doesn't even slam it.

Jax stares at the inside of his own front door and envisions a totaled ‘97 Tercel, upside down like a beetle stuck on its back. In his mind’s eye, the punctured wheels still spin on bent axles, not knowing they’ll never feel the road again.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - part 5

This is it guys, this is why the characters got names! I hope y’all like it <3  

CW: branding, burning, forced to watch, emeto (pretty brief and only at the end), whumpee restrained to a table, nonsexual noncon touch, hurt no confort again but that will change eventually I promise lol

tagging  @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot  @sunflower1000  @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove  @boxofsilence  @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump (let me know if you ever want me to stop or start tagging you ♡)

Part one is here, continued from here

-

Fire is strangely beautiful, Liam thinks, watching it flicker and dance in the hearth. A kind of painful beauty that hurts to see, the idea of touching it enough for gooseflesh to rise, but pretty nonetheless. 

He wishes he could be like fire. Not because of its beauty, but because it produces no shadow. No darkness comes from the flames, only light. And pain, when touched without notice. If he could be like that, only light and self-defense, maybe all of this wouldn’t hurt so much. Chase’s leaving, the dread of what each of his breaths might bring as time passes, the plummeting of his stomach every time he hears footsteps outside his room’s door. 

The flames crackle, and Liam wonders why it is he can’t shake the fear off, as he remembers the guards bursting into his room and pulling him out of bed, leading him outside as Liam pretended each step didn’t make him want to scream. That was minutes ago, and yet the fear still drums in tandem with his heart, pulsating turmoil into his bloodstream. Why feel fear when all it does is make things worse? Wouldn’t it be easier if he could just be at peace in those moments between pain, before it comes? But instead, his mind or his body or his soul decides to fill him with dread – only another layer of horror he cannot avoid.

Jonah was waiting for him when they brought Liam inside a weirdly cozy living room, leaning against the fireplace and watching Liam’s uncertain footsteps as he was pushed down to lie on a steel table placed in the middle of the room. Eyes glued to him as Liam was restrained until he could no longer move. His gaze went straight to the fireplace and stayed there since, watching the flames as memories of electricity, lighting up his every nerve until he nearly lost his voice to screaming, flashed before his eyes. The memory is still fresh enough to freeze him into not resisting. What a pitiful sight he must be.

“Hello there,” Jonah smiles, taking casual steps towards him and stopping by his side to watch from above, hands in his pockets as if having someone tied to a table in his living room is nothing out of the ordinary. “How are you today, Liam? Has your voice returned after our last encounter?”

He lifts his gaze to find the man’s eyes blinking innocently at him.

“You are sick,” Liam rasps out, shaky and small, but the words are there. He might be restrained and scared, but he is not broken. He isn’t. Right?

“That’s a yes, then. Very good, I like to hear you,” scream – he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence for the word to be heard. Liam feels sick. “Now let’s call our mutual friend, shall we?”

Liam narrows his eyes as Jonah types something on his phone. He can’t be talking about– 

“Chase!” Jonah says to the camera Liam only now notices a few paces away, held by another one of Jonah’s men. He tries to hear more, but Jonah comes so close to the camera and talks in such a low voice that all he grasps and holds on to is the name. 

Jaw clenched and stomach churning, Liam stares at the ceiling, letting the wave of bitter rage break against him without resistance. It wins the battle against fear for one moment, and that’s enough for him to seize it with every last bit of willpower. It is better to be angry than frightened, and he’s had enough of the latter for a lifetime.

The frantic beat of his heart turns into aching memories of Chase’s lies, promises of love he never intended to keep, each word meant to trick Liam into being a fool. Twice. Once months ago, then again when he genuinely, stupidly, hoped Chase would pick him instead of a job. Fucking ludicrous. 

But bitterness can only do so much to keep fear at bay, and when Jonah’s voice reaches his ears again, not even a minute later, it comes crashing back and flooding his veins with pointless adrenaline.

“He was a very good boy if you want to know. Just stood there, still and obedient as we buckled in the restraints,” he says to the camera, stopping beside Liam once more, placing a hand on his head. “Say hi to Chase, Liam boy.”

“Fuck you,” he spits. Fuck both of you, he means to complete, but Jonah’s hand is already closing on his hair, drawing out a pathetic little whimper from his lips.

“Language, Liam.”

He closes his eyes and waits for the hand to let go. It’s all he can do. Still, his hands twitch uselessly by his side, palms turned to the ceiling closing in fists, knuckles scraping against cold steel.

“I guess this is a lesson for both of you, then. For Chase to not be a prick and for you to behave better, my pretty plaything.”

Eyes snapping open, he glares up at Jonah, feeling indignation bubble up inside of him.

Jonah doesn’t even see it. He is too busy looking at his phone with an unamused expression before handing it to one of the guards. 

Is he talking to Chase? Is Chase delighting in seeing Liam like this, helpless and scared?

The part of him that refuses to give up entirely shakes its head, remembers gentle touches and tender gazes that couldn’t possibly have been faked. The other part, the one that grows each day he spends in this hell, purses its lips and scoffs at his naiveness. If Chase cared, he wouldn’t have left him here. 

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah says, painful grip turning into deceivingly soft fingers that run through Liam’s hair in mock sympathy. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

He tries to fight it. Of all the things he’s been put through, he fights the tears that prick his eyes. And just like everything else, he loses. They fall in warm drops down his temples as he turns his head, looks away into the fire again. No shadows there, nothing like the darkness seeping through the cracks of his heart, tainting his soul.

“Now for the fun part,” Jonah declares, sauntering to the fireplace, crouching down in front of it. Something entirely too close to panic pools in Liam’s stomach as he gets back up, holding two iron rods he’d dismissed as fire pokers. As Jonah approaches him, he can see with disturbing clarity how wrong he’d been – the rods’ bright-orange tips shine in intricate shapes. Letter shapes.

“J-Jonah,” he breathes, more sob than word, “please, please don’t.”

Jonah smiles at him, and without saying a word hands one of the brands to a guard before placing himself beside Liam’s exposed arm.

He tries to breathe, beg, say something, but every rational thought disappears as Liam follows the blazing hot shapes with wide eyes, gasping for air that refuses to fill his lungs.

He is almost there, the please I’ll do anything hanging from the tip of his tongue when the branding iron is lowered onto the delicate skin above his wrist. 

Burn could never describe the pain that steals every last bit of himself Liam tries to hold on to. Fire sinks into his skin, into muscle and bones until it reaches whatever lies within, and destroys everything in its path. He screams, cries and wails senseless pleads, but nothing passes through the ocean of agony he’s drowned in. 

He barely notices when the brand is pulled away.

He does when the second one is pressed onto his other arm though. 

Liam writhes and sobs, but there’s no escape, no mercy to be begged for. Only pain to feel, nothing, no one else but pain and pain and pain that swallows and dissolves the world into searing flames that hold nothing of whatever beauty he thought he saw.

-

You know, what really makes me mad isn’t even your fucking stupid idea of keeping things from me. It’s the shit job you did deleting those files. Who do you think I am, Chase?

That was all that waited for Chase when his phone buzzed, along with a link to a live stream instead of a video. No recording this time, no certainty that at least while Chase watches, Liam isn’t in pain anymore. 

“Chase. I see you’re faster now. Pity you’re no smarter,” Jonah sighed as soon as he clicked on the link. “But I won’t go into how fucking idiotic it was of you to delete half the information I asked you to get me,” he hissed, low and angry enough for Chase to feel the words as bugs crawling along his skin, up and down, circling his throat, ready to squeeze. “What’s happening here today is entirely on you. I hope you see and hear and remember every bit of it, sweetheart.”

He felt like screaming when Jonah closed his hand in Liam’s hair and made him yelp. The impulse to clench his fist until it shattered the phone was strong enough for Chase to connect the live stream to the television in his living room and bite on his lip when the image expanded and Liam’s terror became so painfully obvious.

One minute later, Chase nearly threw the phone at the wall when he called the man and Jonah simply looked down at his muted cell phone on the other side of the screen and handed it to someone else.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah said, and Chase seethed, half anger and half guilt boiling inside of him. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

Chase dropped the phone in time to avoid crushing it, but the desk chair didn’t escape his rage. Its broken pieces fell on the other side of the room, doing nothing to soothe the horror building up in his stomach.

And then Jonah grabbed the branding iron, and Chase’s heart missed a beat at the sight, eyes widening in tandem with Liam’s.

“J-Jonah,” Liam choked out, “please, please don’t.”

“Jonah,” Chase said too, unable to hold it in just like anything else in his life, even if he knew he was the only one listening. There was never such a thing as restraint when it came to Liam. If only Chase had seen it sooner. “No–“

When the iron descended on that soft, silky, perfect skin above the restraint circling Liam’s wrist, Chase fell on his couch, legs too weak to hold his weight. 

Liam screamed, loud and raw and utterly hopeless, back trying to arch and being pulled back down by too tight restraints before it even left the table. His body spasmed, trying to escape the blaze, but there was nowhere to go, and it took only a moment for the despair to turn into sobs and tears.

It didn’t last more than a few seconds, but those would star Chase’s nightmares forever. Jonah pulled the iron off Liam’s now bright red skin, and Chase couldn’t bear to look at the letter-shaped burn. He also couldn’t help it. 

When Jonah exchanged the used iron with the second one, Chase felt bile rise in the back of his throat. “Please, p-please, please,” Liam begged, so little Chase barely heard it, so dazed he didn’t think Liam did either. 

He echoed it though.

“No, please don’t.”

But no one heard him, and the second branding iron was pressed to the inside of Liam’s other arm, and his mouth opened in a silent scream Chase heard nonetheless.

By the time the second one is pulled away, Chase is kneeling on the floor, hands covering his mouth and tears threatening to overflow.

It is nothing compared to Liam, though. His mouth hangs open even as the iron stops touching skin, and soft sobs wrack his slim body as his glassy eyes leak a constant stream of tears into his hair.

Chase doesn’t even move when Jonah’s voice leaves the speakers again.

“So? Do you like it?” he asks, a manic grin stretched across his lips as he points to Liam and the camera walks toward him. 

It focuses on his face first. Sweat, tears, pure agony written all over it. His eyes lay open and unfocused, lost to the pain. The image slides down to his heaving chest, restrained arms, until it stops above both his wrists.

Chase turns to the side and vomits at the sight. 

Two bright red burns mar the perfect skin he had once worshipped with lips and tongue and feather-light touches that never felt like enough. 

Jonah chuckles, and the live stream ends in that ghastly image of two letters forever engraved on Liam’s skin. Flourished and elegant, a C stands out on his right arm and an R on the left one. His initials. Chase Raymond. 

Chase pukes again, and then curls up on the floor and weeps.

(next)

[angstysebfan]

The Truth Will Set You Free - Part 7

Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader, Thor x Reader (other Avenger characters)

AU: Modern

Summary: You dated for two years, and thought he was the one for you. One day you came home and found him with someone else. After running away from you, you return home and found yourself in the arms of Thor. When Thor decides to introduce you to his friends at a dinner, you realize that there’s something familiar about the house you were visiting.

Warnings: implied cheating, language (not proofread)

--

You sit in your living room, ignoring the TV in front of you. You think about everything that has happened over the last several days and can’t believe the whirlwind you have faced. Who knew when Thor brought you to meet his friends, you would be faced with the horror that was your old life. Only then to find out that Bucky never cheated on you.

You don’t know what to think anymore. You care so much for Thor. He has been so patient and kind, and you know he cares about you, maybe even loves you. Then there is Bucky, who was your first love. The man you thought you would be married to and have a million babies with. But do you still hold that love for him?

You decided to distance yourself from both of them. Of course you spoke with Thor, who completely understood why you needed space. You decided to not reach out to Bucky, as you told him when you spoke you needed time. Knowing him, you knew he would reach out when he couldn’t stand it anymore. In your distance you decided to try and not think about it, at least for a little while. You needed to destress before you could even think about what to do.

As you sit there, “not thinking about it”, you hear a knock on your door. You get up, hoping and praying it’s not Bucky, because you are so not ready for that conversation. You open the door to reveal yet another person you really didn’t want to see. You say nothing and just stare.

Shuffling her foot against the ground she asks quietly, “Can I come in?”

You open the door wider and allow Nat to enter your apartment. “How did you find me? I don’t remember giving you my new address,” you say flatly. 

You see her gulp and again look down, “Uh, Thor actually gave me the address,” she says.

You are honestly shocked he would do that, but keep your mouth shut as you sit back on the couch. “So what do you want?” you ask.

She takes a deep breath as she sits, making sure to keep space, “I-I told everyone the truth. Something that I should have done years ago. I just... I just want to apologize again for.. ruining your life in the process of my bullshit,” she says.

You give a breathless laugh, “Yea, ruining my life is a pretty accurate summary of what you have done to me,” you say. 

You look at her again and see the pain in her face. You sigh, so tired of drama, “How did they take it?” you ask.

She looks at you in surprise of your question, “Well. They all still want to be my friend. They were upset with me about what happened with you and Bucky, because I took complete responsibility for that, but they all accept me,” she says.

You nod, “As I knew they would. Which is why I still don’t understand why you would hold onto that secret knowing what happened between you, me and Bucky,” you say, annoyed.

“I wish that I could give you a reason and make things better, but honestly, Y/N, the truth is I was scared. I didn’t want to accept that it was my fault. I didn’t want to lose any more friends, when I already lost the most important one in my life, and the second most important one,” she says.

You look at her confused, “The second?” you ask.

“Bucky kicked me out. He stopped talking to me. He finally spoke with Steve after I came over and apologized, but he still refused to come to most hang outs if he knew I was there. It took almost 2 years before he would be in the same room as me,” she said. 

You look at her in surprise, unable to comprehend what she just heard. Nat continued, “Even now he barely talks to me, but at least he will hang out with us. Him asking me to meet to tell you the truth was the first time he has spoken to me in a very long time,” she says. 

You knew at this point, you keeping your distance was going to be short lived. You had to speak to them both, but you still needed to time to figure out what to say. You still had more questions that needed answers, especially after this news. You look at Nat, “Well, even if you were scared, it’s not right to make me look like the bad guy. You and Bucky just let me look terrible to our friends,” you say.

You remember what Steve told you, and knew that you said, wasn’t 100% true, but you wanted Nat to feel bad after everything so you said it. Nat nodded, “You’re right. I’m selfish. I always have been. I liked being the center of attention and I love having people love me. When I thought that could slip away, I made sure it didn’t. When I knew Bucky wasn’t going to say anything, I decided to keep my mouth shut too. I never thought I would see you again. I know that sounds bad, but it’s the truth. I--” she stops and sighs.

“I loved you. I would have loved to have you love me back. I was ok with being your best friend because it gave me a piece of you. I would have stood beside you at your wedding and allow my heart to break into pieces to see you happy. When I ruined that? I- I lost myself and decided that if I couldn’t have you as a friend, then... I turned back into the selfish bitch I was. And all I can say to you is that I am so sorry. I know it doesn’t make it better,--”

“You’re right it doesn’t. Because while I can understand you being nervous and afraid to tell the people that you love that you are not who appear to be, it doesn’t give you the right to throw me under the bus to make yourself feel better,” you say and then scoff. “You say you love me, but I honestly don’t think you know the first thing about love, because you would never have let me reputation fall like that if you loved me,” you say.

Nat looks down at her hands and you see tears falling. “You know we can never go back to the way things were, right?” you ask her.

She refuses to look up at you but nods as the tears fall. You sigh, suddenly exhausted, “Whether I am with Thor or.... whatever, we cannot be friends. I will still hang out and will acknowledge your existence, but that will be all for a very long time,” you say.

Nat chokes on a sob as she nods, finally looking at you. “I--I understand. And no matter who you choose, you will have a man that loves you, and I promise to stay out of the way,” she says.

Before you can respond, she stands and walks out the front door. You sit there in silence for a moment before you finally cover your face with your hands and cry. If that was so difficult, how are you going to deal with your next decision?

--

Part 6 / Part 8

Sorry this took so long and was so short. I needed to get Nat’s part finalized so that we can now focus on the guys. Now who will she choose? I have heard your thoughts, and I have to say I am on the fence. We shall see in the coming parts. Feedback is appreciated.

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[hopetofantasy]

Translated interview with Willem De Schryver

Also on my website: Behind wtFOCK - link in comments

The young stars of Streamz series 'Déjà-vu': 'You learn more on the internet than at school'

‘Déjà-vu’ is the name of the latest Flemish fiction series that’s rolling off the production line of ‘Streamz’. In addition to the traditional list of actors' names, Xenia Borremans (21) and Willem De Schryver (19) are featured as fresh blood in the credits. Two newcomers who shamelessly rival the established values.

Calling Willem De Schryver a newcomer is really failing the truth. He has more than 50,000 followers on Instagram and cannot cross the Ghent Korenmarkt without posing for a selfie. It’s the fault of ‘wtFOCK’, a youth series that mainly takes place online and is extremely popular with all those who saw the light of day after 2000. The chance that you’ve seen Xenia Borremans in action, is much smaller. Her only claim to fame for time being, is the horror short ‘De vijver’. And ofcourse, there’s her family name. Xenia is the only daughter of artist Michaël Borremans, but really wants to make a name for herself now.

How did you get into acting? Borremans: “Ever since I was a child, I wanted to act. There are piles of videos at home in which I try to recreate scenes from old films like ‘Some Like it Hot’. I also acted for ten years at ‘Kopergietery’ (children's theater company in Ghent). Acting was a dream, but I didn't dare to hope for that too much. There was always that little voice in the back of my mind that said, "You don’t only need talent but a lot of luck to make it." That was evident when I started to participate in castings. I often cried when I didn’t get a role.

I didn't dare to hope too much for ‘Déjà-vu’ either. Actually, I had no intention of auditioning at all. For fear of being rejected again. In the end, it’s my mom who pushed me to try. When they called me to say I had the part, it came as a complete surprise.”

De Schryver: “I can recognize myself in that story. I too was always performing plays at home. I did ‘Diction’ on Wednesday afternoons, but that wasn’t more than a hobby. When I no longer felt at home at school in secondary school, I took the step to go to the ‘Lemmensinstuut’ in Leuven. That was a revelation. Suddenly, I was allowed to be involved in theater day in, day out. I was happy to get up in the morning, when before, I often came home crying because I really didn't want to go to school anymore. It was obvious that after secondary school I would take the step to theater education at the ‘KASK’.” Borremans: “I also took the entrance exam at the ‘KASK’, but I wasn’t admitted. Maybe I'll try again next year. But maybe not. I’m not convinced that such an education is necessary. There are plenty of examples of actors and actresses who also made it without a diploma.” De Schryver: “In the classes I’m taking now, there isn’t only attention for acting, but also for making plays. I get building blocks to get started in the future. But, just like Xenia, I’m convinced that it can also be done without it.”

In ‘Déjà-vu’ you play the ideal son and the rebellious adolescent daughter, respectively. How deep did you have to dig for that role? De Schryver: “The role of Max is pretty close to my own personality, so that wasn’t too bad. I only had to practice playing hockey. (laughs) Although as far as I’m concerned, a role does not necessarily have to be written for me. For example, in ‘wtFOCK’ I play a bipolar, gay boy. That’s difficult and I had to do a lot of research for it. But when - like recently - you’re approached on the street by a boy who tells me that through my role he had learned to live with his own bipolarity, then the satisfaction is all the greater. ” Borremans: “I recognized myself super hard in Louise's character. I have done quite a lot of rebellion in my puberty years and just like Louise - who has a mother who makes a living as a radio host - I can be bothered too by the fact that one of my parents is famous.”

In what sense? Borremans: “I’m very proud of my dad, that's not the point. We have a very good relationship. He's my best friend. For real. But my family name isn’t always a gift. Many times in the past people have tried to contact me with the sole intention of getting closer to him. Even people I thought were friends, turned out to be solely interested in me because they were fans of my father's work. I also noticed that some teachers marked my grades more strictly just because I was ‘the daughter of’.” Did that influence you to choose acting and not, for example, drawing? Borremans: “I did drawing. In ‘Sint-Lucas’, just like my father. He did push me a bit in that direction. But I stopped when all the lessons suddenly had to be online due to corona. Dad thinks it's important to get a diploma. I attach less importance to that. I prefer to figure things out on my own. If you have the discipline to do self-study, then that’s in my opinion as valuable as any education. I’ve already learned a lot more on the internet than in school. My mom is part of that story, daddy still has some work to do in that aspect.”

You both had a supporting role on the set of ‘Déjà-vu’. How much pressure did it cause? De Schryver: “I did lie awake at night. Although it had a lot to do with the beginning of the shooting period, when I overslept. I cried when I arrived on the set. Such a gigantic production and it gets delayed, because a rookie like me, is late. In the end we hardly lost any time, but the nights after, I was wide awake in my bed waiting for the alarm to go off.” Borremans: “Willem arrived on the set, crying, but was professional enough to put himself in the shoes of Max a few minutes later. Pretty impressive.” De Schryver: “There really was no time to lose. The makeup artist just had about enough time to get rid of my red eyes, but that was it.” Borremans: “I’ve experienced something similar. During the shooting period, I met with a friend who turned out to have corona. Panic, of course. In the end, the shooting stopped for a week as a precaution. There were some tears then. You have a first major role and then something like that happens. Fortunately, it was handled very well on the set. Everyone came to tell me that it could’ve happened to them too.”

The corona crisis has been defining our lives for over a year now. How do you deal with this? De Schryver: “The first weeks, I didn't mind the lockdown. It gave me a chance to catch my breath. By the way, I still don't miss going out that much. Although that also has to do with ‘wtFOCK’. That show has a very fanatic fan base. And you notice. In any case, going out to a bar with friends was no longer possible without being approached or posing for selfies. When people have been drinking, a number of inhibitions also disappear. As soon as they recognize you, they’ll immediately hang onto you. It made me prefer to stay in the room even before the lockdown.” Borremans: “I’m now 21 years old. This may sound strange, but I’m kinda done with nightlife. Of course, I also want to be able to go out again and see people, but I notice that it’s more difficult for those who are younger. I get bored sometimes. But that also has its positive sides. It makes you do creative things. For example, I started to design and make clothes. Without the lockdown, that would’ve never occurred to me. I never read books either, now I do. Although, I would like for it to gradually return to normal. " De Schryver: “I mainly suffer from touch starvation. Actually hug people. I really miss that. But just like Xenia, I also think this is an interesting period. It makes you think. About yourself, about where you want to go in life.”

The Covid crisis also makes painfully clear how vulnerable creative professions are. Did that change your plans for the future? Borremans: “I was already looking for a plan B before this whole situation. Acting is and remains the big dream. But there are no guarantees. I’ll continue to go for it anyway, but I realize that I cannot assume that I’ll succeed in making acting my livelihood.” De Schryver: “We shouldn't be shy about that: the acting world is a tough world with a lot of competition. It’ll not be easy to make it and I know that there are still difficult moments to come. But I do not intend to suddenly follow other classes just to have something as a back-up. The corona crisis has made me realize even more how important acting is to me. I could never completely push it aside. This’s what I was made for. I just feel that.” Déjà-vu can be seen on Streamz. The series will be released on Play4 later this year.

[theladyismyshepard]

Mother Miranda

#7 prompt fill — Betrayal (Myra)

(Anonymous with a dream, you’re next)

The sun was at its highest peak in the sky, and unleashed its powerful rays upon every inch of the earth. It warmed your skin from the usual chill that lingered throughout the castle, making it feel like winter year round. The Dimitrescu family might be comfortable, but you needed the occasional reprieve that only straight sunlight could provide.

So there you were, sprawled along the grass of the courtyard, your fingers interlocked behind your head as support. Your eyes stared up at the clouds that idly floated away, but after a moment, they went unseen as your focus blurred and shifted to the way your morning had went so far.

A smile slowly twisted the edges of your lips upward, and you didn't fight it. You awoke to red hair in your line of vision, and became acutely aware of the lips peppering the column of your throat with kisses. You had to swallow the dryness from your mouth, and as you did, you felt her smile against your skin before she gently bit down, not even hard enough to bruise.

"Someone's in a good mood," you mumbled, still shaking off the layer of sleep that had you in a haze.

"That is every morning with you." said Myra easily, as if she were speaking of the weather.

You felt your heart pumping wildly in response, and as you briefly wondered if she could hear it, she answered in kind by grazing her fingertips across your chest before sprawling them out and lying her palm flat to your heart.

"Well then tell me what I can do to help keep up this good mood. What do you want to do today?" you asked kindly, nudging against her until she got the hint and rolled over to allow you to hover over her.

"Actually," started Myra, her face already morphing into apologetic. "Mother wants to speak with my sisters and I today. I must be going soon, but I couldn't resist."

You puffed out a small "oh", a little disappointed, but you quickly recovered, giving Myra a reassuring smile before surging forward and connecting your lips in a searing kiss, soothing the line forming between her eyebrows.

"I think I might get me some sunlight today then." you decided, nodding once for emphasis.

"Come find me after," she demanded, pulling you close by the front of your shirt to give one last kiss.

She rolled you off of her, and donned her hooded robe before taking her leave to undoubtedly collect her sisters for the meeting with Lady Dimitrescu. That was how you found yourself sunbathing in the courtyard. The warmth that tingled the top layer of your skin was easing you into alertness, warding off the sleep that left traces throughout your body. Although a thundering crash gave you an extra jolt.

You bolted upright, neck already craned in the direction of the disturbance. A crease formed between your brow when you recognized that the sound had come from Lady Dimitrescu’s office. Dread had you rooted to the spot as you eyed the window, expecting the worst.

You had been given free reign of the castle, but you do have the common sense to know that it is disrespectful to eavesdrop, and Lady Dimitrescu prides herself of her poise and respect. The occupants of the castle were expected to hold the same morals (though Daniela struggles). You knew you should wait and let someone explain when the meeting was done, but the crash was too violent to not respond to out of mere reflex.

You kept your footing light despite knowing they are aware of your presence by your scent and heartbeat alone, and crept along the courtyard until you found yourself ducked beneath the window sill outside of the office. You were uncertain if you had already been caught, but the conversation at hand must have been more dire than originally thought because after a moment, you remained undetected.

“To hell with the ceremony!”

It was so shrill that your brows couldn’t help but to disappear into your hairline. There was venom lacing every syllable of the shriek, and while you were no stranger to fury echoing down the corridors, you hardly heard such harshness come from Myra’s mouth. The silence of the room led you to believe that the other occupants were as stunned as you were.

“Myra-”

“No!”

You had to swallow down the gasp that bubbled in your throat, your hand thrown over your mouth as an added precaution. It was one thing for Myra to lash out, but to outright talk back to Lady Dimitrescu was something that seemed forbidden. If the two sharp intakes of breath that immediately followed were anything to go by, the sisters knew so as well.

“I am well aware that emotion is clouding your perception right now, but you do not ever raise your voice to me.” warned Alcina, her tone clipped.

There was a pause, and you could practically see Myra’s calculating nature taking over in your mind’s eye. The brief silence allowed for her mother to continue.

“As you are well aware, we cannot afford to cross Mother Miranda, especially when your fool uncle already has her on edge with his own mistakes... The ceremony must happen."

You had heard about a man named Ethan Winters evading Heisenberg, and while you didn’t understand the exact severity of it, you knew it was stirring trouble within the castle. It brought enough hesitancy to even have Alcina tentative to call Mother Miranda. What you were wracking your brain over was the ceremony that had prompted this argument. What had Myra so heated?

"Is there really no one else that will do?"

When people speak, you have always listened to the tones more so than the actual words, so you didn't miss the underlining desperation when Andromeda whispered.

What the hell's going on?

"No... I truly am sorry, Myra, it might not seem like I care, but it pains me greatly to have to take away your pet. Mother Miranda chose your human specifically."

You had long since gotten over being referred to as "pet" in the third-person by the Lady, but is she really to just discard of you as such? Your face went slack as it couldn't comprehend which emotion to show first. There was hurt, there was anger, there was fear, and it was coursing through your veins, pumping into your heart. Please don't hear me.

"Yes, mother,"

Betrayal.

There was no emotion in Myra's voice. It was a solid deadpan, and somehow you were able to hear everything she wasn't conveying to Alcina. You know Myra doesn't want to let you go, you know she isn’t allowed to have you lingering around... but you’re still going to be taken away for this ritual for Mother Miranda.

You thought you were something special to these women after your loyalty and adoration for Myra had you squeezing into the family. You thought you had solidified something... but you didn’t, and you wouldn’t mean anything after time had eased you from their memories, something to be forgotten.

This is what I get for eavesdropping, I suppose.

You began to lose your inhibitions as nothing really mattered to you in that moment — Remaining unseen, going unheard, you had no care, not when it appeared as though you were on borrowed time as it was. You gazed back up at the clouds idly floating by and realized that although your world felt as though it was at a standstill, reality would continue on with or without you.

All thoughts of sunbathing had drifted from your mind as you wandered towards the gate at the edge of the property. The exit was just within your sight, and you could run before they thought to chase after you...

Myra.

You turned back to Castle Dimitrescu, a war raging inside of you. You had nowhere else to turn to, and honestly... where could you run? Who could possibly hide you when Mother Miranda had her eyes set on you? It all felt unfair, but you suppose it was bound to happen when you fell in love with a woman whose family’s basement had enough standing blood that it submerged to the calf.

You always wondered when it would be your turn to hang from the ceiling down below, and it came a lot sooner than you had prepared for. You sighed so heavily that it had you closing your eyes. What were you supposed to do now? You could only stand there aimlessly, no real purpose driving you forward.

But you suppose you should start walking back, but suddenly it took everything in you to slowly inch forward, step by step. You had never appreciated walking before... breathing in fresh air... living.

The castle door swung open to reveal none other than the woman who occupied your entire mind. Her back was stiff and she couldn’t keep her hands still. As you approached, you stilled them. Her eyes locked onto yours and there was so much screaming inside of them that she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

“Where to now, hun?”

Her lips set into a hard line, but you know by now that that was her tell when she was about to cry; Her chin always wobbled when she couldn’t contain it anymore.

“We... we are throwing a party.” whispered Myra.

“Oh?” you acted surprised. “When is it?”

She stared down at her feet as she said, “Tonight.”

Your breath was stolen from you, almost like she punched you square in the gut. How could they? That quick? As if you never meant anything at all... You gulped.

“That short notice, eh?” The tremble was getting harder to hide. “What are we waiting for? Can’t keep everyone waiting — speaking of! Who’ll be coming?”

“Only the most important people,” deadpanned Myra, showing no enthusiasm. “Let’s ... get this over with.”

The smile you plastered on was all wrong, it didn’t feel right on your face; completely uncomfortable. The curves were too forced to slip into genuine and natural. Just get it over with... like a bandaid.

You wanted her to fight, wanted her to be angry, wanted her to feel as lost as you, but the emotionless mask she was wearing had you feeling betrayed. She accepted this so easily... she could find a replacement for you before the ceremony was even over.

“Let’s get it over with.”

***

All traces of sunlight were erased from the sky as the moon blanketed darkness across the land. The hours had flown by before you could really blink even, and you were left wondering where the time went.

You and Myra had met up with Daniela and Andromeda inside the castle, and you found that they didn’t have much to say either. However, all three stared you down the entire day. You could feel their eyes boring into you throughout preparing you for the ceremony... no one else had a dress code it seemed. Your white robe contrasted against their black ones, making you stand out as you stood among them.

Myra had offered to bring you a tray full of food, any kind you wanted, but the knots in your stomach couldn’t uncurl enough to allow you to eat a single bite. Your heart dropped even further when you saw her face fall when you denied.

She’s the one doing this to you. To us.

You hardened, pressing on through the day, and before you knew it, you found yourself sitting with the sisters in Myra’s bedroom, just waiting as your time was dwindling. Soon, you could hear Lady Dimitrescu’s heels clacking down the staircase and to the door when there was a sharp rap. One glance out the window and you see that night had fallen.

Myra had become hyper aware of that fact as well, and the nervous energy she held just below the surface was oozing out in waves. Daniela and Andromeda hovered, obviously on edge themselves, but the eldest sister was shooing them away once she noticed you had started trembling.

“My love,” Myra whispered, reaching for your hand. You flinched. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

Your eyes connect, and it was the softest you had ever really seen them. Your vision blurred, and you didn’t even try to stop the tears as they clung to your lashes before you blinked and they spilled down your cheeks, leaving tracks. You gave her a smile that wobbled.

“What’re you gonna do? Kill me?”

The soft smile you’ve come to love waking up to was gone too quick for your liking, and you briefly wondered if that was the last time you’d get to see it. You were seated on the foot of your shared bed, Myra standing before you. You accepted the hands that cupped the back of your neck and the side of your throat, reeling you in.

“I have to do this, please.” The first tear broke free, and you reached up to brush it away with your thumb.

“I know,”

Teeth embedded themselves into your neck, and you couldn’t help the yelp of pain as you felt your flesh tear away. A hiss escaped you as you felt suction, and while you could kind of get into it when the moment is heated, this felt different, wrong.

You felt lightheaded from your blood rushing, but you also burned from the inside out. You’d tear into your own skin if Myra wasn’t holding onto you with a death grip. Your throat stung as well and only then did you realize that your hiss had turned into a scream.

You felt sick to your stomach, but you could tell it was your organs failing you. You could barely keep your eyes open, too weak to fight against the heaviness of your eyelids. You weren’t even aware that she was leaning you back against the bed. You weren’t aware of your blood adding color to your white robe and spilling out into your bedsheets. You weren’t aware of the tears adding wetness to your neck. You merely closed your eyes and accepted the darkness creeping into the edges of your vision.

...

Until you bolted upright in bed, sending Myra toppling back onto the floor. There was a burning sensation in your throat that left you with a haze settled around your brain, unable to focus on anything else.

Not the oxygen that you didn’t require, not the change of your iris color, not even your heightened sense of smell.

A hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look up, and you met worried eyes. She had never looked more beautiful, and you told her as much, relishing in that megawatt smile that you thought you had lost.

“I will never let anyone take you away from me.” Myra vowed, leaving you floored.

Oh how easily you had doubted her love for you before. You felt so foolish for second guessing her now that you stood there, completely reformed for her, by her. You had felt so weighed down by being betrayed that your body completely bounced back and had you feeling ten times lighter.

“Not even Mother Miranda?” You pushed, though you couldn’t rid yourself of your grin.

“Did I not just prove to you that not even Mother Miranda can take my pet away?” she asked, attempting to sound oh so innocently.

“You’re a little brat.”

Before she could get a word in, you pulled her closer to you, capturing her lips into a searing kiss. Nothing seemed impossible or scary in that moment. Not even the notorious Mother Miranda waiting downstairs could stir fear into you. You had eternity to face her after all.

“I love you, you know?”

Myra smiled softly before pulling you into a hug, tucking her face into your neck. A gentle kiss was placed upon the bite mark that turned you.

“You have forever to tell me, now.”

[sxbrinalogan]

The Glenda Section:

Requiem - Dear Evan Hansen “you were the flood that swallowed us whole, refusing a love we endlessly gave you. you were a fire out of control, the blaze that couldn’t be tamed... don’t tell me that i didn’t have it right, don’t tell me that it wasn’t black and white. after all you put me through, don’t say it wasn’t true, that you were not the monster that i knew.” 

Okay so I’ve officially exposed myself as a theater kid, ANYWAY. When it comes down to it, Glenda is at the center of the Logan family’s issues. Not that I think they didn’t already know that, but I think now that the three of them are out of it they’ll be able to identify just how fucked up of a situation they were in. I’m SURE they’ve heard someone say shit like “she’s the only mother you’ll have!!” etc. etc., but they’re not wrong to think Glenda was a total monster to all of them because she WAS. None of them are going to sing a requiem for the relationship they’ve lost, because there’s nothing to grieve. 

Because of You - Kelly Clarkson “i lose my way and its not too long before you point it out. i cannot cry because i know that’s weakness in your eyes. i’m forced to fake a smile, a laugh every day of my life. my heart can’t possibly break when it wasn’t even whole to start with... you never thought of anyone else, you just saw your pain. and now i cry in the middle of the night for the same damn thing.” 

A continuation of the GLENDA SUCKS conversation. 

*End Glenda Section*

Slipping Through My Fingers - ABBA “slipping through my fingers all the time, i try to capture every minute the feeling in it. slipping through my fingers all the time, do i really see what’s in her mind? each time i think i’m close to knowing she keeps on growing... what happened to the wonderful adventures? the places i had planned for us to go?” 

Okay, onto Sabrina’s relationship with the twins. She’s always taken a more motherly role with them and she feels like she blinked and they’ve both slipped right through her fingers. Not only does she not feel needed anymore, but she sort of feels like she has no place in their lives because they don’t need her. And while the two of them standing on their own feet is what she’s always wanted for them, she doesn’t really know who she is without taking care of them. 

Nothing New - Taylor Swift (feat. Phoebe Bridgers) “i know someday i’m gonna meet her, it’s a fever dream. the kind of radiance you only have at 17 20. she’ll know the way and then she’ll say she got the map from me. i’ll say i’m happy for her, then i’ll cry myself to sleep...i wonder if they’ll miss me once they drive me out.” 

Sabrina has sort of always felt like an outsider when it came to the twins, like they had a secret club she wasn’t allowed into. Part of it had to do with Glenda favoring her and the other part was the whole twin thing. She’s always had this fear that once she gave them everything they needed, they’d leave her behind and now she feels like it’s coming true. 

House in the Trees - Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness “when i dream it seems i’m chasing a bittersweet, bittersweet, bittersweet memory. when the last of your friends are gone, you learn a lot about hanging on and on. but if you crash and nobody sees just remember there will always be a room for you in my house in the trees. 

No matter what happens between them, Sabrina will always make room for Libby and Savannah in her life. She loves them like they’re her own, and there’s nothing they could do that could make her love them any less. Hell, she thought Libby was maybe a murderer and she was willing to help her cover it up! 

In conclusion, I love the Logan sisters with all my heart.

@runvway @libbylogan

[1-800-imagine]

study dates with the baby crows

karasuno first years (separate) x reader

✎ inside scoop (1/2): hello and sorry, this is a repost because of tumblr struggles and stuff 😅 anyways, happy reading!! i hope you enjoy!!

HINATA SHOYO:

the thing about hinata and kageyama for that matter is that he isn’t truly dumb

his mind is just heavily situated with other priorities, mainly volleyball

on that note, hinata will try and speed through his work in order to go do more fun things

and this tactic definitely does not really fair well for him

“done!!” hinata exclaims, showing you his completed paper with pride. how did he complete this assignment in record speed? you think. it’s not that you ever doubted hinata’s academic capabilities, it’s just that he wasn’t really one to take his time completing work -- always rushing through it all to do the “fun” stuff.

you took his paper from his hands and examine it. “now let’s go play some volleyball, or something,” he suggests giddily, propping himself up so he could get a headstart to the backyard. “hinata,” your voice sounding concerned, “you got a bunch of these wrong.” the boy stops in his tracks, one foot already out the door. “you’re going to have to redo most, if not all of them,” you warn, watching as a look of struggle pains the tangerine’s face. “as your tutor, and your s/o, i cannot let you fail another assignment, shoyo.” you reason.

“fine,” he pouts, sitting back down, “only for you (y/n).” as he gets to scribbling, you notice how hinata’s expression grows sulky, like when a dog droops its ears down or hides its tail between its legs. “you know what,” you mutter, “we can probably split this up -- do half now, go take a break, then do the other half later.”

“really?” hinata chirps, his hair resembling that of the ears of a perky puppy. “yes, rea-” you try and answer but get cut off immediately by the boy crawling over the table. “you’re the best study buddy, (y/n)!!” he shouts before pummeling you both to the floor.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO:

kageyama isn’t necessarily stupid either, he’s just more focused on volleyball like hinata

he’s probably the type to get a little frustrated when things don’t tend to work well for him

in a similar way to when things aren’t working well in volleyball

i feel like putting things in terms he already knows may help him better his understandings

kageyama groans as he pushes himself up and away from his desk. you look up, across the table to see the mix of frustration and confusion that paints his face. “what’s the matter, tobio?” you question innocently. “i just don’t get it!” he snaps, the anger so strong in his voice. you’re stunned, and kageyama takes notice of it immediately.

“it’s just that,” he confesses in a much softer tone than before, “no matter how hard i try, i just can’t get the hang of this.” you grab onto kageyama’s hand, which is balled up in a fist out of his frustration. “it’s okay tobio.” your voice is delicate, as you try to confide in him. “i wish this was as easy as volleyball.” kageyama grunts.

that’s when it hits you, like a little light bulb forming over your head. “well,” you begin, your thoughts muddling around in your brain. kageyama looks up at you, confused as you take his paper from him. “if the total of three volleyballs is 55 dollars, and the cost of a mikasa ball is five more than a tachikara ball, which is twice as much as a molten ball. then how much is the mikasa ball?”

you watch as kageyama to scribbles down the numbers. “15 dollars,” he answers, in a notable speed. you’re so proud of kageyama, giving him your praise with haste, “see, you can do it tobio!!”

TSUKISHIMA KEI:

tsukki loves you through and through, else he wouldn’t have agreed to help you study/study with you

but that doesn’t mean the he’s going to stop with all the saltiness. no no.

it’ll certainly lessen, but i feel like there’s not a possible way to escape it

like yeah, he can be totally soft for you; however, that being said, don’t be surprised if some sort of snarky remark is thrown your direction

in a moment of confused concentration, you begin to chew on the pen in your hand -- an action which is taken notice by tsukishima almost immediately. “(y/n),” he sighs, “do you need something? if you bite that pen any harder, i think it might explode.” you look up in a surprised daze, like a little deer caught in headlights. “i-uh no, i mean yes. actually, maybe?” your jumpy response earns a quirk of the eyebrow from the blond boy. “fine,” you speak up, “but don’t make fun of me, okay.”

“if you’re so worried about me making a joke of you -- i’m not.” tsukishima guarantees. your face morphs from a state of confusion into a look of doubt. this had certainly been a side of tsukki that you’ve never seen before. “i wouldn’t have agreed to help you, if i didn’t love you.”

you’re taken by full surprise, considering that the cold tsukishima kei just confessed that he loves you. of course you and he had been dating for at least a couple of months now, but you would have never expected him to tell you he loved you anytime soon.

“y-you, tsukishima kei, you love me?” your eyes widen, and your jaw unhinges. that’s when reality sets into for tsukishima. did he just? he did. “i didn’t mean it like that.” he refutes, even though his ears are already shaded with a rosy tint. “no, i know what you meant -- you love me!!” you holler, earning you a loud shushing from the librarian. “you love me!!” you reiterate in a soft whisper. “ok fine. i love you,” he confirms mockingly, “now what was it you needed my help with?”

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI:

the boy is a nervous WRECK

he just wants to do the best of his ability to help you, but at the same time he does tend to doubt himself

one that note, things may end up in you helping him more than the other way around

but i’m sure he’ll be super proud of you when you start to get the hang of things

the sigh of surrender escapes your lips, breaking the comfortable silence that filled the room. you pull your face away from your textbook to look at one green-haired boy sitting beside you. “i don’t think i can do this,” you resign, “it’s a lost cause.” you begin to pack away things.

seeing you in this defeated state begins to make yamaguchi nervous. was he not a good enough tutor for you? are you just going to go and ask someone else? “what’re you doing?” he asks, the nerves making his voice a little shaky. “i think i’m going to go home,” you answer, “none of it is your fault, tadashi. i’m just not getting the hang of it.”

you continue to pack up belongings when a hand delicately grabs your wrist, making you come to a halt. “no.” the freckled boy says, his voice stern -- contrasting the usual, softer tone of it. “(y/n),” he adds, “you need to stop discrediting yourself.” having never seen this more assertive side to yamaguchi, you’re quite surprised. “tada-” you exhale.

“maybe you just need a little extra practice,” he propose, “but there’s no need to give up.”  yamaguchi’s interjection cut you off from your thoughts. “tadashi i-” you stammer. “it’s okay,” he assures you, “even if you don’t believe in yourself. i will!”

YACHI HITOKA:

prepared. very prepared.

she probably has almost about everything the two of you need to succeed -- and when i say everything i mean everything

from all sorts of stationary to study snacks, yachi’s got it all

similar to yamaguchi, she just wants to do everything in her power to help you succeed

a peculiar noise escapes your lips, followed by the light tap of your head hitting the table in resignation -- yachi’s quaint set up of pretty stationary and notebooks jumping to the corners of the desk. “i. can’t. do. this. anymore.” you admit, growing increasingly louder with each word. fortunately, your screams are muffled by the wooden surface. “do you need another break, (y/n)?” yachi proposes.

“there are plenty of snacks left,” the sweet girl adds, “and we can always go get other treats if you don’t like these ones.” you turn to rest your cheek on the surface of the table, staring up at this angel sent from the gods.

“no, no it’s alright ‘toka,” you decline, “the snacks are perfect, this whole thing is perfect.” you lift yourself up and begin trying to put everything back in its place neatly. picking up one of the organized notebooks, you sit back into the chair. your expression and posture grow sullen, which is something easily noticed by the blonde girl. yachi’s overactive imagination begins to take her to the worst-case scenarios.

“d-did this not work for you, (y/n)?” she mutters, her voice riddled with worry. negative thoughts begin to cloud her mind. “of course not, ‘toka,” you answer, “even if we were sitting in the library, with those cranky librarians, i’d still have the best time -- because i’d be with the best girlfriend!!” the flash of your bright smile makes yachi lose her train of thought. “i-uh, n-no you,” she utters, earning her an innocent giggle from your direction.

✎ inside scoop (2/2): hey hey hey!! first off, if you managed to get through all of that, i really appreciate you. thank you for reading, and i hope you liked it!!

the next thing i wanted to say is that i feel like i haven’t really been myself lately, and i’m really (x10) sorry about that. school work had me stressed out quite a bit, and then i got caught up with other things as well. so in the little time that i did provide myself for anything other than working, which was usually very late at night, i didn’t have much motivation left in me per say.

aside from all my lame excuses that, i hope everyone else is doing well. make sure to take care of yourself, and my request/talk box is always open if anyone wants to talk or send something in 💖💕

[beomglocks]

colors ; k.th

part of the badlands series!

colors: “you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece.”

based off halsey’s badlands album.

warnings and other: museum curator!taehyun, old money!y/n, mentions of depression and grass smoking, little bit of angst i guess??

taehyun sighed as he took down the 11th painting this week. the museum hadn't been very busy in the past couple of weeks, maybe because the weather was getting colder. one part of him figured that many people just wanted to be bundled up at home watching holiday themed movies and drinking warm drinks rather than appreciating enchanting artworks.

he couldn't fool himself though, he knew the truth. today's generation didn't care about the fine arts anymore. a shame, seeing as everything around them seemed to be inspired by it.

kang taehyun worked at his local museum. he had been offered the position by the owner one night while roaming the place. this should've been a red flag looking back. the owner seemed desperate for someone to fill in the position since the previous employee had left without notice. nonetheless, taehyun took the job and didn't regret it one bit.

open 24/7, the red haired boy was always working on the clock. not that there was much to do seeing as most of the people his age or even a bit older didn't hang around museums purely for the joy of it. actually, his only job was to exhibit the newly arrived collections, clean and dust them off, and conduct regular tours and workshops for the public. due to this and the fact that not many people even came by he would take regular breaks.

once in a while you'd see the occasional old person or art expertee roaming around the small museum. if you were lucky, you'd see the local edgy teens posing next to a piece they didn't understand just to get an aesthetic picture. taehyun would also have the unfortunate job of shooing them away or scolding them for getting just a bit too close.

recently his boss, who was the museum manager and maybe the only other person besides taehyun that worked there, had informed him that due to funds and unfortunate unforeseen events, the museum would be closing down in about a month from now. this caused taehyun to fall deep into a depression since this was his only job and he loved it here. the museum was like his second home. he found comfort in the silent images displayed throughout the building. they always told him a story and when new pieces came in he would sit and stare attentively at the new anecdote being told to him.

taehyun smiled sadly at the piece he had just taken down. it was a painting of 2 people kissing however both of their faces were covered by white cloths. this was his favorite and he didn't even have a clue as to why. probably because of the uncertainty of what the other was feeling or because of the fact that the other couldn't see each other's faces through the cloth, that would've made the kiss more exciting in his opinion.

he stepped out of the museum and into the frosty air of the outside world. it was only autumn so why was it so cold? he thought to himself. he discreetly pulled out a prerolled blunt and his white lighter from his pocket. he lit it and stuck in between his slightly chapped lips.

maybe smoking dope wasn't the healthiest thing in the world, especially for a boy so young, barely 19, but it helped taehyun get his mind off the inevitably of losing his job and being homeless for the winter. he shuttered at the thought. he would have to room with one of his friends, he sighed shaking his head. no, he didn't want to be a burden, yeonjun had helped him enough as it is.

he looked at his surroundings taking in the cold autumn afternoon. the trees had long lost their leaves and were bare. the sky was a murky gray color as if it were threatening to rain any time soon. he noticed a girl bundled up in winter clothes near the entrance of the building glance at him. he smiled at her and she jumped at the eye contact, thinking that he wouldn't catch her. taehyun chuckled as he watched her rush into the museum. "back to work," he said out loud to himself.

once the blunt had been almost gone, he smoked what was left of it and headed back into the empty museum. he was feeling light-headed, the effects of the blunt finally taking action, but taehyun was used to it so it barely affected him as much.

he made his way to the girl who was now starting to take off her jacket and scarf. taehyun tapped on the girl's shoulder to get her attention. "hi," he smiled at the girl, showing off his dazzling smile. "if you'd like, i could give you a tour of the museum." well what's left of it anyways, he thought to himself.

"oh...no thank you," said the girl. she smiled warmly at the worker. "well not to be invasive of your decision but it's sort of in my job description," taehyun replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. the girl sighed in defeat, "i guess i have no choice then."

taehyun laughed as he took her coat and scarf to hang up in the public closet, "yep, trust me. they say im not that bad of a tour guide, im quite fun to be around if i do say so myself. i promise not to bore you too much." the girl nodded, not entirely convinced. "if i do end up bored i will hold you accountable..." she took a moment to take a peek at taehyun's name tag, "kang taehyun," she joked.

as they walked through the museum the girl couldn't help but notice that it was fairly empty. "why are there almost no paintings in here?" she laughed hesitantly. "i thought this was a museum?" taehyun stopped walking, turning to her with a sad expression on his face.

"the museum is expected to close in about a month or so," he stated simply. "oh...that's terrible. may i ask why?" the girl responded. "my boss says we've run out of funds or something like that," taehyun chuckled bitterly. "people don't really give a shit about good art these days anyways."

"that's a shame..."

they continued to look through the various paintings that were still up and occasionally the girl would ask to see the ones that were taken down and left on the floor. it seemed the two were lost in each other's company as night started to approach.

"thank you for the tour of this lovely museum taehyun. it was fun but it's a shame such a nice museum like this is closing down," the girl said softly. taehyun nodded solemnly, he just wanted to get this day over with and crash at his apartment. he didn't blame the girl before him but talking to her reminded him of his harsh reality. a notification coming from the girl's bag made both of them jump as they were both lost in their thoughts.

"ah, that must be my father. he's kind of annoying when it comes to my curfew," she chuckled, digging her phone from her bag. taehyun watched her with a bored expression until his eyes reached her bag. he hadn't noticed this earlier but she had been carrying a louis vuitton bag. his eyes bulged at the expensive item that was so close to him, they got even larger when she fished out the latest iphone from it.

taehyun wasn't poor per se, he had just enough to get by since he was living paycheck to paycheck. however, he had never been in such close proximity to any luxury items. he suddenly felt weird being this close to this girl.

"what do you mean by curfew?" taehyun asks hesitantly. the girl sighs, "my father is one of south korea's richest chaebol's, maybe one of the big three at his point." she rolled her eyes as if this information was nothing. "he's super strict with me because i guess i'm just his show pony daughter whom he can show off to say he's a good father."

taehyun gulped, had he just been casually hanging out with the daughter of one of the richest men in korea? he felt sick at this. she looked up at taehyun's uneasy expression, "oh my god im sorry i just dumped that all on you! i just needed to catch a break so i came here, i didn't mean to drag you into my life story."

taehyun fixes his face, laughing nervously, "no- no its fine really. we all need a break sometimes right? im glad you got to have that time here." the girl smiled up at him, completely misreading his nervous laughter, "im glad i got to spend it here with you taehyun."

"oh before i go!" taehyun watched her pull out a checkbook from her bag and his stomach dropped. he silently watched her scribble some stuff onto the slip and tear it out, handing it to him.

"there's not too much i can take out of my account without my father flipping out but i hope this helps even just a little. whether it be in your personal life or with the museum."

taehyun eyes the check and chokes when he sees 50,000 dollars written neatly on the black line. he swears he can feel sweat going down his face like in the cartoons. "i- i cant possibly take this from you." he moves to hand the check back but the girl refuses to take it back. "taehyun, you love this museum with your entire being. i see the way to look at the paintings and the passion with which you explained them to me. i'd hate to see that taken away."

"plus, if you're gone who's gonna give me the tour when i come back?" she laughs as if this is something casual. taehyun's hands shake as he pockets the check, "i seriously cannot thank you enough...you don't know how much you just helped the museum and m-"

the girls phone dings again and she grumbles, "ugh why can't he just leave me alone. sorry but i think i really gotta go for real before he tracks my location or something crazy like that."

taehyun nods wistfully at the mention of her having to leave. he was really starting to enjoy her company.

"oh by the way," the girl giggles as she pulls her coat on hurriedly.  "was that you smoking weed at the corner of the museum earlier?" the girl chuckled to herself again just remembering it. taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, "why would you say that kind of thing at out loud and at my job?!" he scolded in a playful hushed voice.

"i just thought it was funny and you also smelled of weed the entire tour, i didn't mind though so don't worry," the girl concluded. she was starting to walk away towards out the door now. "i'll walk you out," taehyun offers. "such a helpful employee. is this in the job description too?" the girl jokes, turning to him while a smile on her lips. "well, not exactly," taehyun says smoothly.

she shakes her head, "i'll see you soon taehyun." he watches her walk off into the darkness of the night when he suddenly remembers something.

"hey what's your name by the way?" he shouts after the girl. for some reason taehyun really was hopeful of seeing her again.

"y/n!" came the disembodied voice of the girl he had just met.

[opes-magnas]

『 as lonely as time can get. 』

It’s finally here!! I’m a terribly slow writer, and am really thankful to all those who waited for this! Hopefully you enjoy. Thank you so much to @hamjjy, @kaavijournals and Lady L for beta reading this, you guys are the best!

Listen to this playlist here for the best experience!

tw: cursing, body sensitivity, very subtle idea of anxiety and toxic relationships are portrayed.

~calypso <3

I. the moon can't shine on her own.

She looks serene tonight - high up in the night sky, not a single star to accompany her. Does the moon feel lonely like that? Does she ever need a warm hug? Perhaps she gets one from the sun, and he accompanies her all time. Does the sun shine for her? So that the world can see her beauty? Perhaps so. When she can't see him, she turns bloody red; she seems disturbed. Hurt. Lost. Her fury always frightened the humans. It made them shiver inside their homes, praying to see the familiar ball of light rise from the east to calm her down. Perhaps it is better if they could only see her beauty. But does that mean the sun shines, not to show her beauty, but to protect the humans from her true self? Perhaps so.

The sun and the moon are a pair. And they will continue to be.

As long as the moon can't shine on her own.

Let's stop thinking, Luna.

The moon seems lonely.

I look up at the clock. A red, metallic light tells me its 3:48 am, 3rd April. Great, now I can have four shots of espresso for breakfast. Thank you, oh great mind, for deciding that we needed to have that conversation earlier. I sit up on the bed and rub my eyes. The curtain flutters from the soft wind blowing in through the window. Cicadas fill up the silence as I look at the full moon illuminating my room another time. Oh, how I hate the moon. What a hypocrite. I look away, and my eyes find the pile of open textbooks and spark notes I abandoned. A small smile creeps up my face. At least I'll ace that History test tomorrow. I could imagine the Boba Tea reward from Leo in my hands already. Leo. The annoying kid next door who's been stuck with me since I was five. Don't worry, though. I don't like him. Not anymore. He made it extremely clear that I was 'a size too big' for him. Then why do I still hang out with him? Short answer - I beat him up, he apologized. I shall offer no elaboration. Still, a lump forms in my throat. And maybe because he wasn't completely wrong.

I get up to go grab a glass of water. Mochi is lying in her bed in the hallway. This is the first time she didn't stir awake when I thumped across the room. The poor fluffball of a cat is probably very tired from the bath I forced her into in the evening.

You need to lose a few pounds anyways, Luna. Get rid of those love handles. Maybe some fat on your back too. That'll make people find you more approachable.

It isn't toxic if it's true, right?

That night, I decide that my glass is half-empty rather than full, and go back to bed. Suddenly, Mochi wakes up and runs into my room. She snuggles in and throws her paws on my hair like it's her property. I choose to oblige the demon for today.

The last thing I see before sleep lures me is the clock gleaming '3:59 am'.

/////-----

It's too warm in my blanket. I almost want to peel my skin off. I need to get sleep, I have a test soo- I jolt awake. Mochi is no longer next to me. I assume she's back in the comfort of her bed, considering the temperature in the room. I let out a groan as my hand outstretches to the switchboard. After a few terrible attempts, I finally turn on the ceiling fan. As sleep threatens to take me again, I see that it's still dark out and the moon looks just as annoying as it did earlier, its ever luminant light breaking down the walls of my privacy. My eyes turn to the direction of the clock- 3:48 am, 3rd April. Huh, weird. I realize I must have had one of those five-minute, extra strength-giving, amazing nap- Wait why does the clock say it's 3:48 am?

I grab my phone. The sudden light blinds me for a second, and through squinted eyes I see 3:49 am on the screen. Huh, really weird. Wasn't I awake just now  - err, earlier? Wait what? I realize I make no sense, maybe I just read the time wrong the first time. My brain is repeating the features of the Hammurabi Code, my drowsy eyes are drooping, and I meet slumber once more.

I barely feel Mochi slipping back into my blanket.

/////-----

I wake up in wonder why my alarm hasn't rung yet. The room is still dark, the moon stares at me curiously. Give me some privacy, moon. My eyes turn towards the clock for the third time this night- 3:46 am, 3rd April. Bullshit. I've been asleep for hours now; I won't need those four espresso shots for breakfast anymore. My tongue clicks involuntarily. Is this some sort of a stupid prank? Leo is definitely behind this, I'm going to hunt that dipshit down.

Come to your senses, Luna. The universe cannot prank you. That's impossible. And stupid.

I grab my phone again. An attempt in vain, I realize, when I see the screen displaying the same time. I text Leo.

| loser |

you (3:46 am, 03.04.2021): you awake?  (read) 

loser (3:48 am, 03.04.2021): no

A chill goes down my spine. Did the just relive 3:38 am? I decide to call Leo. Two rings in, I hear a familiar voice, 'I said I wasn't awake.' He sounds tired, voice raspy and strained. You'd think he'd just woken up from the but he's the sort of person who thinks sleep is for the weak. 'Yeah no shit, Sherlock. I'm speaking to your alter ego, Thomas.', I reply.

He decides to ignore my bad retaliation, and saves me from the embarrassment. 'Why is my star pupil awake at 3 in the morning? Has she forgotten about the test she will help me cheat tomorrow?', he asks. Ah, this freeloader. I'm gonna kick his ass. My hands move frantically in the air out of annoyance, 'I am not helping you with anything!', I scream-shout into the phone, afraid I'll wake Mochi up in the hallway. She's a bigger annoyance than Leo; no one in the universe has energy to deal with a grumpy Mochi.

'Honey, you love me.'

'You're being delusional.', I deadpan.

'Is my chubby baby irritated?', he says in a fake cooing voice. And that got me.

'Leo, I did not call you at 3 in the fucking morning for you to put me down.'

The other side of the line immediately goes silent. Silence that reminded me of the last time this happened. Silence between the two of us on a Boba Tea study session in the park after an argument, the only sound being the pages of my sociology textbook being turned, and of the sound of baby birds in a nest nearby. Though I know that Leo meant it as a term of endearment, I couldn't believe he wouldn't ever, well, consider me more than just a friend because of it. A few seconds (sometimes minutes) pass before -

'I'm sorry, Lunie, you know I don't mean it,'

Another apology.

I sigh. I'm tired of this conversation again. I'm tired of having to deal with the same problem again. I'm tired of people putting me down. I'm tired of blaming myself. I'm tired of trying to look pretty. I'm tired of Leo. I'm tired of me. I'm tired of another heartbreak. I know his apology is genuine. I know he doesn't mean it. I know he's just being the Leo he always is. But somehow his words still continue to haunt me. Maybe it's because it's coming from someone who means to me the most, coming from someone who brightens me up, like the sun does to the moon.  Then why am I the only one taking it seriously? Why am I trying to fit into someone else's standards? Why am I so painfully aware of everything but still choosing to be blind?

Why am I not able to love myself even though I want to?

'Luna? You there?', his voice breaks me from my train of thought. Weirdly, he sounds quite scared. 'I didn't realize how much it bothers you, I swear I won-'

Mochi jumps onto the bed and snuggles into my head again, paws in a similar place in my hair. A weird sense of Deja vu washes over me again. And then-

『 pop! the world has reset.』

My eyes opened in fear as a gasp escapes my mouth. I'm sitting on my bed, trying to comprehend what just happened. The curtains flutter with the wind blowing by. The moon stares in curiosity. My phone's on the bedside table. The clock gleams with a bright '3:01 am' displayed on it. And the problem is that I wasn't dreaming, and I wasn't mistaking the time either.

I'm in a time loop.

II. a tub fills with water only to spill it.

I fucking hate whoever wrote Groundhog Day.

Like who decided that? Who decided to say 'Hey, let's make a movie based on time loops!'? 'Let's make a dude live the same day all over again till he gets it right! Let's make him really happy, then really sad!'

Son, I'm this close to pulling an Ides of March on you.

I seem to be looping every hour, more specifically from three in the morning to four. Five hours have passed by, but my clock tells me it's precisely 3:18 am. Great. My dearly detested friend, the moon, is my only companion in this war with time (sorry Mochi). In the five hours that should have gone by, I have accomplished the following:

Two and a half hours of sleep - though I wake up when the clock resets.

Half an hour of revision for that History test I need to write after I get out of this shit.

Thirty minutes of planning a workout, Fifteen minutes of Yoga.

Five minutes of trash talking the moon, Ten minutes of dealing with grumpy Mochi who woke up as I exercised.

Thirty minutes of wondering if Leo's looping with me, and

Half an hour of figuring out what went wrong, and how to make the night perfect.

I don't know how much longer I'll be able to remember anymore. I've tried everything - making notes, scribbling on the wall, writing on myself, engraving things on desk - but none of them seem to make it through when the loop resets. I'm too tired to talk to Leo, knowing very well that he would definitely not believe me. And partly because I'm afraid I'll lose my temper and get hurt again. I'm afraid I'll end up being the insecure bad guy, and he doesn't deserve that. He deserves someone better. Someone who's prettier, kinder and happier. Not telling him for the time being also meant that I'll never find out if he was looping with me. But that probably isn't the case, the universe is cruel for a reason. This is perhaps its punishment for me. I must go through this alone.  No one's ever been by my side anyways.

I'm as lonely as the moon.

/////-----

Another few hours pass. The pop between every reset scares me lesser and lesser. But my desperation to return back to normal is growing. I've been trying to figure out what went wrong for the past hour in the neighbourhood park. The cold air  perfectly paired up with the mint chocolate chip ice cream in my hands. Was it me staying awake this long? Should I have just gone to sleep?  There must have been something I did wrong that hour. My heart wishes to call Leo and confide in him. And the more time goes by, the more my mind wishes to oblige to that crazy request.

I pull out my phone, which gleams a bright '3:58 am'. It's almost time for the reset. In two minutes, I'll be magically transported back to my bed. I sigh. I can't take living the same hour again. The hour grips my sanity like it is a play toy. I waste another countless moment wondering where I went wrong.

『 pop! the world has reset.』

Well, I guess there's no place like home. I wonder if Mochi was worried the previous hour when she didn't find me in the bed. Do cats feel worry for their owners? Does Mochi care for me? What kind of a disgusting ship is this? Cringe, cringe, cringe. Shut up, Luna. I bury my nonsensical idea of my cat showing me love for once in the deep pits of my mind, and pretend I never thought of such blasphemy. I shift under my blankets, and decide to sleep through this hour, foolishly hoping that the reset would never take place if I was never awake, though I woke up when the clock reset each time earlier. My eyes look at the clock - 3:05 am.

That's when doorbell suddenly rang. I launch up in surprise. This didn't happen before. My heart begins to pound extremely hard, my head hazed in confusion. I run towards the door as quickly as possible stirring Mochi awake in the process, and fling it open.

It's Leo. And he's in tears.

His eyes are filled with fear, breath unsteady. Beads of sweat line his neck as he tries to get words out. Leo grips my hands tightly, as though he wants me to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. This hasn't happened in a very long time. He's gotten a much better hold on his anxiety in the past few years. I pull him into a hug and mutter words of comfort. His head is leaning on mine, and his breath slows. I tell him we'd be alright, and hum a calming tune. And we stay like that for the next five minutes.  

'Luna,', Leo whispers into the night. 'Would you believe me if I told you something crazy?'

'Like what?'

'Like a war against the clock.'

And that's when I knew. Tears start brimming in my eyes as I give out a sigh of relief. 'Like a time loop?', I say as I hug Leo a little tighter. This time I needed one to remind me I wasn't alone. He seems to catch on as well, a sob escapes from him as he melts in. We stay in each other's arms, in each other's comfort - a place where walls were deaf to all the shared secrets, a sanctuary with no limits.

Oh, what I'd do to protect it.

Leo pulls away, his eyes disappear and his lips form into a sheepish grin. His face is puffy from all the crying, but it glows in the soft moonlight. My eyes widen in surprise as he grabs my hand and drags me out the door. I manage to see the clock on the kitchen counter gleaming with a bright '3:15 am.' before blood rushed to my face upon meeting the cold air.

'Where are we going? Are yo- ah it's fucking cold out here!', I complain.

'Ice Cream.' Classic hungry Leo. This boy is a demon.

iii. the twilight hour.

'What's wrong with you?!', I huff as I bend down to catch my breath and hide myself under a tree. Leo, on the other hand, is breathing quite easy, a stupid grin plastered on his face (oh, how I want to punch him). His hands hold up a bag with three tubs of mint chocolate Ice Cream like they're the greatest creation of God. 'Did you really have to steal Ice Cream?! Are you five?', I say as I recall the incident that just took place, how Leo basically ran out the convenience store with the sweet goodies without paying and left me, his dear, penniless (and only) friend as the bait to a potential flat-earther of a cashier (long story, don't ask).

And now we're here, the park I was in the previous hour. There's not a single soul around. The only companion being the moon once again. His smile shines through like the sun, however.

'I'm rweally sowwy, delulu,', he retorts.

'My name is Luna, and no one can ever be as delusional as you, you dill hole.', I say, my ears red.

'Good now, I shalt promoteth thee to 'Deluna'. Thee has't been felicitat'd.'

I click my lips in annoyance. I know quite well that when the clock resets, all the stolen Ice Cream would be back in the freezer. But I try my best to maintain a straight face to show my discontent. That's right Luna, assert your fucking dominance. I notice that his hazel eyes shining with the mischief I'm used to once again. He's back to the loud, obnoxious and teasing Leo he's always been. Leo who's carefree, Leo who's horribly reckless, Leo who finds happiness in uncertainty. My Leo. My lips slowly curl into a smile, and I give in. He's happy, and that makes me happy too. Leo suddenly pulls out his phone.

'Look here, Partner in time.', he says cheekily.  I hear a click. My brows wring into discomfort and confusion.

'What? You look pretty in the moonlight.', he states without skipping a beat. There's a million tugs in my stomach, and blood rushes to my bronze skin. Butterflies soon turn into more sinister as I remember our conversation on the phone earlier. My face falls, if only this boy knew what he puts me through. First I'm not good enough, and now I'm pretty? Does he really throw around stuff like that without giving it a second thought? Does he not realize all that he's putting me through?

This is pointless. My feelings for him are pointless. The amount of time I waste on this is pointless. 'Our friendship is pointless.', I say. Regret follows immediately. Leo's face turns grim too; an unreadable expression plastered on his face. I suddenly remember something I jotted down my sociology textbook.

words left unspoken, my hearts screams, my head's in pain, we are in conflict.

Tears well up in my eyes again. This is a conflict, the most peaceful one at that. Terrifying. One that makes you curl into a ball and wish you never existed. One fueled by guilt, by insecurity, by ignorance. I remember the rest of the poem.

one of us was meant to get hurt, almost as though the heavens proclaimed it, on the day of creation. the celestial sky cried tears of gold, for it knew fate was cruel, but humans are crueler.

My hands are getting colder. My breath is hitching as my sobs get louder. Leo rushes towards me and tries to pull me into another hug. As much as I try to resist, he pulls me into his embrace. Fear devours my heart as I realize how I didn't feel at home anymore. I knew this sanctuary was going to break sooner or later. My heart is sick. It pains far too much as it beats in his embrace. Will it stop if I pull away? I try.

It does.

'Luna, what's wrong?!', Leo asks, truly afraid of what was happening.

'Us, Leo. Us.', I reply, voice barely a notch away from a whisper.

'What's wrong with us? We're Leo and Luna! You're the other half of thi-'

'Stop. Please.', I say firmly. My head feels too heavy, my heart too light. The moon shines down on me in its disgusting glory. I can't take it anymore. 'You're the reason I hate the moon, Leo. Because you are the sun. You only shine on me to mock me. To make me feel inferior.'  

'What're you talking abou-'

My tongue clicks loudly. 'You're so hypocritical!  You're an asshole who makes me feel like I'm the only one in the world, before throwing me out yourself. You make me feel insecure, Leo. I don't feel like I'm myself with you anymore.', I say, vitriol burning my throat. 'You disregard what I feel for you, because I'm the moon. You outcast me, because I'm the moon. You tie me down.

'You remind me of why I'll never shine on my own.'

I look at Leo. His hazel eyes turned dark, head down in shock. There's not a single drop of water in his eyes. He stands under the moonlight in silence. I can hear my heart palpitating.

'Why do you think the Sun shines, Luna?', he whispers. 'Is it to light the day, or to light the night?', he asks, a little louder this time. I open my mouth to answer.

'It's to light the night, Luna.', he interrupts. He knew I'd say neither. The sun shines for himself. He is selfish.

'The sun sheds it's light, because if it didn't, the moon would never-'

'That's exactly the prob-'

'get to see the world.' I stop midway in confusion. What is he saying?

'The sun shines because he wants the moon to see the world, Luna. He shines because if he didn't, the moon would be lonely. He makes sure to shed the perfect amount of light on her, so that she guides the traveler without scalding them, without making them blind.

'If he never shone, he'd have never have found his other half. The sun would have been just as lonely as the moon would have, Luna. The sun and moon are a pair, not because the moon can't shine on her own, but because they are lonely without each other.', Leo says.

And epiphany struck down like lightning. Leo needs me as much as I need him. He'd be just as lonely as I'd been without him. The moon's identity without the sun hadn't ever been her own. It was due to the sun's light she was herself. The sun made her the moon, and the moon made him the sun. They were inseparable, as destiny willed them to be, for they needed each other. For the sun to shine the brightest, and the moon to give comfort. But all that didn't answer why-

'Why did you say I wasn't enough for you?', I say, reminiscing that day in the park.   I remember picking out a bouquet of purple lilacs after studying a book about plant symbolism in the library. I spent hours trying to make myself look pretty. I spent a lot of time trying to make up my mind. And everything came crashing down.

'Because you deserve more!', Leo says in defeat, fingers brushing into his hair. 'Do you know how much of a loser I am? You deserve a hunk-a-ilicous person, are you really going to settle for a noodle?!', Leo says, gesturing to his lean figure. As sarcastic as his response seemed, he meant every word of what he said. That's just how Leo is.

'Leo, that's exactly how I've been feeling this whole time.' I pull Leo into a hug.  

Leo is no different than I've been my whole life. He's just as insecure and broken as I am, as I've always been. All my life, I'd seen him as a completely different person. We have different hobbies, we have different personalities. But we're still similar in ways that make us, well, us. It's just that our sanctuary needed to break to have it's walls built back stronger. I feel at home again.

'You're more of a sausage though. Alri-ALRIGHT lemme clear up, you're MY sausage okay? The best one in fact, I will use you in all my dishes.', Leo says as I pull out of his embrace and find a stone on the road to attack the disrespectful brat. Leo runs away and makes his way behind the usual Banyan tree at the edge of the park. 'That's literally the worst nickname ever!', I yell as I chase him.

'Mine own dearest sausage I begeth thee to reconsid'r!'

'TRY ME BITCH.'

'Hey, hey wait.', Leo holds down my hands and blocks my attack, and I'm left with no weapon except for the daggers in my eyes I choose to use against him. 'So, what are we now?', he asks.

'We're still Leo and Luna, dumb head.', I say after giving it a thought. Leo opens his mouth to refute, but soon decides against it. I assume he's content with the answer. We were friends, nothing could ever break that. Would we ever be something more? Who knows, maybe we would in the future when we love ourselves a little more, when we're comfortable with who we are, rather than who we're with.

Until then, we are Leo and Luna.

///////------

My eyes flutter open. I am leaning on the trunk of the Banyan tree next to Leo. I find myself in sleepy laughter as I look at his head lodged in between the roots of the tree. And suddenly, I see light in the distance. I immediately wake up from my position near the tree and walk to the edge of its canopy, heart beating in my stomach and look at the sky outside. The dark navy night melts into a light lilac, small streaks of tangerine bordering the the horizon. The birds are beginning to chirp in the trees, though the street lights are still on.

The time loop has stopped.

Meanwhile, Leo had stirred awake. He runs with his eyebrows up in surprise and squeezes the life out of me before his eyes turned dark in fear.

'WE HAVE SCHOOL.', he exclaims. I ignore him, and choose to stare into the sky. I look at the twilight hour. The sun and the moon were side by side, in harmony, like Leo told me. Tears escape my eyes in a sense of accomplishment. I could rest now. I give myself a small hug, and tell myself I'd worked hard. ('LUNA DO YOU REMEMBER THE HAMMURABI CODE.' 'That is not important right now!') The sun rises up, and salvages the few moments he has with the moon. I turn my head to the side and see that the moon looks serene, her light glow slowly fading as she decides to rest too.

But above all, I see that the moon is no longer lonely.

a/n: ahhhh yes if you’ve made it this far, i truly truly appreciate you for reading this, it means a lot to me. the past few days have been a little weird for me, and it took more than just motivation for me to get through writing this. again, thank you to all my beta readers, i really treasure all of you! i’d really love to get an ask about the short story, so if you enjoyed, make sure to send me one! i hope everyone’s staying safe! stay tuned with us because we have another surprise coming soon!

alatcg taglist:  @blue-hairbrush, @kaavijournals, @artbyeloquent, @47crayons, @writing-is-a-martial-art

general writing taglist: @shinesundark, @the-writing-avocado, @raenawrites​

@original-writing​

[wordsablaze]

13/13 - goat string of fate

A Dozen Denials Soulmate-identifiers exist to make things easier unless you’re Jaskier, who’s equally as deep in love as he is in denial. But there’s only so many excuses you can make to avoid the truth… (aka jaskier’s soulmate is definitely a witcher, just not the one he first assumes)

A/N: what we've all been waiting for... undeniable red string of fate, but with goats for eskel's sake ;) @alllthequeenshorses @eskel-loves-lilbleater

previous chapter

-

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

Jaskier’s heart breaks.

He knows that Geralt isn’t lying because the words don’t show up on his skin and he knows that Geralt isn’t just saying that for the sake of it because his pulse is as steady as ever under his wrist and he knows that Geralt isn’t thinking with a clouded mind because he can’t feel any intense emotions at the back of his mind.

The only logical conclusion to make is that Geralt really means it.

“See you round,” he says, even though he’s not sure he will.

It’s nowhere near the first time he’s had his heart broken but somehow this time hurts so much more than every other time, probably something to do with the fact that he’s leaving his very soulmate behind as he walks away with blurred vision and wobbly steps.

He doesn’t walk very far, though; he just can’t bring himself to.

-

There is a building on fire.

And there is a witcher trying to help.

Nobody asked him to help and yet he runs into the building because he can hear the panicked heartbeats of four humans inside.

He hands over a frightened child to their mother and runs back in.

He hands over a man to his grateful sister and runs back in.

He hands over a crying girl to her father and runs back in.

There’s one more racing heartbeat inside the building but he can’t find it, it doesn’t belong to anyone he can see, and even though he tries his best because he can’t let anyone die - he just can’t - he has no choice but to leave when the roof caves in and smoke fills the air.

It’s only once he can breathe again that he realises the heartbeat has followed him out.

The last person wasn’t in the fire after all; they’re under his skin.

-

Jaskier doesn’t get the rest of the story from the others in the end.

He wants to - he’s a bard so of course he wants to - but he knows that his own story having just found such a bitter end means that he won’t do the dragon hunt any justice so he leaves its tale to the dwarves.

He’s tired and he kind of wants to cry and he doesn’t know which way he’s meant to go so he doesn’t even try to subtly follow the others back down the mountain. Instead, he walks and walks and walks and hopes he doesn’t fall to his death.

And he doesn’t. But he does stumble over nothing in particular and end up rolling over himself until he hits a tree, gasping for breath and curling around his lute because he doesn’t have any other source of comfort.

The last thought he manages before he drifts off - read: passes out - is that he’s incredibly glad his lute hasn't broken the same way his heart has.

-

There is a funeral.

And there is a witcher trying to mourn.

But there is something giddy in the back of his throat and something bright behind his eyes and something exciting at his fingertips and he cannot focus his emotions.

There is a fight.

And there is a witcher trying to concentrate.

But there is a puzzle in his lungs and a question on the tip of his tongue and a mystery in his every bone and he cannot tell if he knows what move to make next.

There is a festival.

And there is a witcher watching quietly.

But there is a heavy grief in his stomach and a heavy doubt inside his mind and a heavy pain within his blood and he has no idea why his body is telling him to be upset.

-

Jaskier wakes to the taste of oranges.

For some reason, it just makes him want to cry.

“We are not dying on some godsforsaken mountain,” Jaskier mutters to his lute but also to himself because if he is to die, it will not be at the hands of heartbreak.

A lot easier said than done, though, because he ends up lost. Horribly lost. So lost that he wonders if someone had moved him while he was sleeping because there’s no way he could end up so clueless when he’d been pretty close to their original path the day before.

And he’s not unfit but he must have bruised himself more than he can tell while tumbling because he doesn’t get further than the duration of half a dozen ballads before both his muscles and his lungs force him to stop and rest in danger of retiring altogether.

Still, he keeps going. He can’t find anything edible but he hangs onto the taste of oranges from his stolen dream as he pushes forwards, begrudgingly thanking Destiny for giving him at least that from his soulmate.

-

There is a town with a contract.

And there is a witcher who almost regrets accepting it.

The monster is easy enough to defeat, nothing that takes more than a day. No, the monster isn’t the reason he chooses to disappear for almost a month afterwards - that would be the mirror.

Or more specifically, what he sees in the mirror: one of his eyes is the wrong colour.

He thinks he’s delirious at first but one potion and two hours’ worth of meditating later, his eyes are still inexplicably mismatched.

His left eye is the colour of the sky. The colour of the ocean. The colour of a privilege that he was never allowed to have. And he’s read just about enough poetry to know how that means he has a soulmate out there somewhere.

All that does is drown him in a blue hue of guilt.

-

Jaskier has just started playing his third song on the lute when something crashes into his legs.

He yelps, springing to his feet and almost tripping over whatever it is that’d crashed into him, which turns out to be a goat. A goat, of all things.

“Right, well, if you could not do that whole attacking thing again, that’d be great. You have rather pointy horns,” Jaskier huffs, settling on the rock once again.

To its credit, the goat seems to listen, munching on grass instead of stepping on his toes as Jaskier starts playing again. Confused but not entirely against the company, he continues singing about whatever comes to mind until the sky begins to darken and the air turns cold.

He sighs, putting the lute away and gently reaching out to stroke the goat, smiling when it doesn’t just headbutt him and bleats happily before settling in his lap. “At least you seem to want to stick around,” he mumbles.

Too tired to find anywhere more sheltered, Jaskier pulls his doublet tighter around himself and hugs his new best friend as tightly as he dares. For a moment, the goat lifts its head and stares at him and he fears he’s about to have his eye poked out, but then it just burps and settles again.

This time, he falls asleep laughing.

-

There is a hearth.

And there is a witcher sat beside three other witchers.

And despite the warmth of the fire and the warmth of his family, he is cold.

He is colder than he ever is, colder than when he is submerged underwater during a fight or when he is caught unawares in a storm or when he is kicked out of a tavern because he brings down the mood.

There is no explanation for why he is cold because he is home and he is safe and he should be warm but for some reason, he is not.

He is rarely warm.

And if he is warm, he doesn’t understand why.

There is no explanation for why he is warm when passing ruins he’s never seen before or when camping in the middle of nowhere just to be away from people or when being told the last copy of the book he’d been looking for was just sold to someone else.

Eventually, he gets used to the confusion, pulls on a cloak, and moves on.

-

Jaskier is probably losing a few of his marbles.

With nothing better to do, he follows the goat as it travels along a seemingly random path to find nothing in particular, stopping every so often to munch on something or the other.

“I can’t believe I’m following a goat,” he mutters to himself as he brushes grass off his arms, “and it’s not even a cute little baby- what’s a baby goat called? Hmm, I should really know that… Or should I? It’s not like I’ve met any farmers lately. Or anyone, for who am I meant to meet atop a mountain? Well, a goat, apparently.”

Said goat bleats at him as if asking him to hurry up.

“Yes yes, I’m hurrying. Some of us don’t eat grass, you know? Oh, but how would you know when all you can think about is the next patch of moss you’re going to eat? Is that what life is to be, travelling from patch to patch and-? Hey, that could be a wonderful name. I dub thee Patchy, my dearest goat friend,” Jaskier declares, grinning.

Patchy bleats again and headbutts his shin but it’s okay because it doesn’t hurt in the slightest and he only wobbles a little bit.  

“I’m taking that as your approval!”

-

There is a woman.

And there is a witcher lying in bed next to her.

They are both tired and not quite awake and she is gently running her nails along his arms because she has never seen anyone with so many scars.

He is waiting for her to fall asleep but she sits up and frowns, pointing out the words that have appeared on his skin: but I didn’t take any honey.

She must be able to tell he’s just as confused as she is because she gives him a funny look but doesn’t pry, though he leaves in the dead of night while she’s still asleep to avoid any chances of her asking questions.

But the words keep appearing and he ends up with plenty of his own questions anyway.

When he’s mending his armour: it doesn’t even hurt anymore; when he’s hunting: I love you more than I love getting drunk; when he’s brushing his horse: I assure you I have a perfectly good explanation; when he’s buying new gloves: I’m afraid I don’t know you; when he’s stitching up a wound: of course I was given permission to be here.

And on and on and on.

He wonders if this person is even human at times because they seem to lie more in a week than he even talks in a month.

-

Jaskier is exhausted.

“Hey, Patchy, it’s been lovely to know you but I think the time has come to part ways because I simply cannot take another step,” he mutters, leaning against the closest tree and sliding to the floor.

Patchy leaps into his lap with an oddly angry bleat.

Jaskier shrugs, ripping up a bit of grass and letting her eat it off his hand before sighing. “I fear it is indeed my fate to perish here. Perhaps life does grant blessings after all, hmm?”

His stomach rumbles and Patchy seems to take offence, startling and jerking sideways, the goat’s horns catching on his sleeve and causing a panic that leads to a large tear in his doublet and a mercifully smaller tear in his skin.

Still, he winces, pressing a hand onto the cut and half-heartedly glaring at Patchy. “Really? You’re lucky the material is red anyway, you menace.”

He regrets his words when the goat stands, spins on the spot, and makes a strange noise before sprinting away. Somehow, that abrupt departure stings far more than his actual injury.

-

There is an ocean.

And there is a witcher who has never been to the coast for a good reason, and still hasn’t.

He doesn’t belong in this scene, he’s borrowing it from someone else without even knowing how, but he can’t look away from the waves as they brush over the sand and over his toes before retreating once more.

There is a cane.

And there is a witcher who has never suffered this kind of punishment, and still hasn’t.

Although the injuries are not his and the crime - if it even exists - has nothing to do with him, he can’t escape the burning pain and the sharp throbbing as someone makes sure the wood meets its mark, again and again.

There is a cat.

And there is a witcher who has never been able to see one up close, and still hasn’t.

He’s not the one touching the tiny ball of fluff that curls up in his palms, he seems to be experiencing someone else’s amazement, but the feeling of soft fur and quiet purring stays with him for no less than a week.

-

Jaskier is ready to give up.

He truly has no idea where he is or how he’s meant to get back to flat land. The berries he’d found in the morning have done very little to provide him with energy and he’s about to declare himself as food for the wolves or something when he hears bleating.

“Patchy!”

And it is.

The goat barrels into him hard enough to knock him over but he’s too busy trying to hug his horned friend to care. He’s also too busy hugging his horned friend to notice that he’s being watched. That is, until someone clears their throat.

He freezes, looking up.

There’s a very long moment in which his heart drops about a mile into his stomach as he catches sight of a wolf medallion but then he sees the amber eyes and the spiked armour and the hesitant smile and his lungs remember how to work once again.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Jaskier says, grinning.

The witcher frowns at that, glancing over him in clear concern. Before he can reply, Jaskier looks away to tug his sleeve out of Patchy’s mouth and winces as he pulls on the not quite scab that had developed over the goat-inflicted wound.

“Oh, is he yours?” the witcher asks after a minute, and gods is his voice deep enough to sink into forever.

Jaskier blinks, pulling himself back to the matter at hand before he spirals into a daydream and shaking his head. “I didn’t even know he was a he, to be honest. Thank you for that, by the way, at least I can sing him a more accurate song of gratitude now.”

The witcher chuckles and steps to the side, revealing another, smaller goat that immediately bounds over and settles on his leg; Jaskier has never been so innocently afraid to accidentally move in his life.

“She’s called Lil Bleater,” the witcher says, promptly cursing when said goat starts nibbling on the sleeve Jaskier had just saved from being eaten by Patchy.

“It’s not like I was planning on wearing this doublet again anyway,” Jaskier says, but he still feels incredibly guilty for letting such fine tailoring end up as food for a pair of goats.

-

Eskel has never been so confused.

He feels like he recognises this stranger from somewhere but he can’t place it, the knowledge is almost like smoke slipping between his fingers before he can grasp it properly.

“It looks like it’s seen better days anyway,” he says, immediately regretting it when the other man blinks at him.

But then he laughs - perhaps the nicest laugh Eskel has ever had the pleasure of hearing - and holds out a hand, amusement sparkling in his eyes. Eskel leans forwards to shake his hand but Lil Bleater chooses that moment to get up and charge at him so he steps back and picks her up instead, offering the man an apologetic look.

“Not to worry, my hand will live a little longer without the honour of yours in it. I’m Jaskier, and you have my eternal gratitude for appearing out of nowhere when I was about a day away from forgetting what other people’s voices sound like,” the man says sincerely.

“Jaskier?” Eskel echoes.

He knows Geralt has mentioned this bard in the past and he’d have to be living under a rock not to know of him at all, what with the songs that are sung his way whenever he ventures into more populated towns, but he can’t fathom why someone so famous would be spending his time with a mountain goat.

Jaskier grins up at him. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me! I wish I could say the same but I don’t believe we’ve met before?”

Eskel shakes his head. “I, uh, I don’t do… crowds.”

“You and every other witcher, it seems,” Jaskier says, but he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to insult anyone. If anything, he seems almost sad.

“The crowds seem more like your style, bardling. What are you doing up here?”

The bard opens his mouth to say something before closing it again, then sighs. “I got lost and ended up following a goat until I got even more lost?”

Eskel chuckles, then puts Lil Bleater back on the ground before leaning down and offering Jaskier his hand because it feels odd to continue the conversation while he’s still sitting down. This time, the goats don’t get in the way and he manages to pull them both upright.

-

Jaskier gets about five seconds of being upright before he keels over.

Everything hurts.

The world blurs around him.

His knees hit the floor with a dull thud.

Everything really hurts.

There’s something under his skin.

His body is on fire.

Everything hurts so very much and he has no idea what’s happening and the sky has disappeared altogether and there’s water rushing past his ears and he’s in so much pain and he’s going to die without even having learnt this gorgeous witcher’s name and he can’t feel his hands at all and it’s way too dark and-

“Breathe, Jaskier!”

He already is.

Or maybe he’s not.

He unclenches his jaw and gasps desperately.

“That’s it, just breathe, you’re okay.”

But he’s not.

Or maybe he will be.

He groans and reluctantly peels open his eyes.

“I’ve got you,” the witcher murmurs, and he has; his arms are practically cradled around Jaskier and the two of them are kneeling in a tangle of limbs on the ground.

Jaskier exhales.

“You’re not going to die, I promise. And my name’s Eskel,” the witcher whispers, at which point Jaskier mortifyingly realises he must have been panicking out loud.

Slowly, Jaskier uncurls his limbs.

He stretches his fingers out from where they’d been squeezed into fists and waits for a moment before accepting that whatever the blinding pain had been is over before looking up, intending to thank Eskel.

But Eskel gasps before he can say anything.

And Jaskier immediately panics again, wondering what could possibly be wrong. He doesn’t need to ask though, because Eskel lifts a hand to ever so lightly tracing his finger down the right side of Jaskier’s face and it doesn’t take a genius to work out what he can see.

“No no no no no,” Jaskier breathes frantically, “this cannot be happening.”

He pulls himself out of Eskel’s arms and shakes his head but his gaze lands on his hands as he uses them to balance and his breath hitches. Without wasting a second, he shrugs off his doublet and rolls his sleeves up, eyes widening at the sight of silvery scars he’s never earned, silvery scars he’d once had and once lost.

“No, I- I already know my- Geralt was- is- no, no, no no no no, wait. Wait. This can’t be right, it can’t- it- you can’t- I mean, we can’t be- nope, no no...” Jaskier’s words can’t seem to form themselves properly as he struggles to breathe.

-

Eskel has no idea what’s happening.

Except he does.

There’s only really one explanation for why the marks that had suddenly revealed themselves on Jaskier’s skin are an exact copy of his own scars, there’s only really one explanation for why the colour of Jaskier’s eyes had seemed so familiar, and there’s only really explanation for why he feels like someone has cast igni inside his heart.

Unfortunately, Jaskier doesn’t seem to like that one explanation.

He waits, though. He waits until Jaskier remembers how to inhale and exhale properly before offering the bard a small smile. “I’m sorry.”

Surprisingly, Jaskier looks confused at that. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I don’t blame you for preferring, uh, Geralt. Or anyone else, for that matter. I wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

Even more surprisingly, Jaskier shuffles closer and punches his arm with a surprising amount of strength, his confusion having been entirely replaced by anger. “I don’t know what in Melitele’s name you think you mean by that but I demand that you stop… thinking it. I’m not- I- I just thought- I’ve spent years, so many years, thinking that I knew and I- I don’t know… I can’t-”

He cuts himself off, his chin wobbling, and Eskel has the inexplicable urge to hug him.

So he does.

Jaskier stiffens for half a second before he seems to forget that he has bones and all but melts into the embrace, burying his head into the crook of Eskel’s neck and throwing his arms around him as if his life depends on it.

Eskel has never felt so pleasantly warm in his life.

He wraps his arms around Jaskier in return and pulls him close, pretending that he can’t hear the sobs the bard is trying so hard to stifle and marvelling at the fact that he gets to hold his soulmate in his arms at all.

His soulmate.

He’d never thought he’d actually get to meet them.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier mumbles eventually.

Eskel pulls back only enough to frown, brushing the tears away from under Jaskier’s eyes before tilting his head to the left. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

-

Jaskier feels like a fool.

He leans into Eskel’s soft touch for a moment before cupping the witcher’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry I never looked for you. I’m sorry I didn’t realise I was wrong. I’m sorry I almost just insulted you. I’m sorry for wasting so much time. I’m just so, so sorry.”

Eskel shrugs. “You didn’t know and I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault. I… I knew and I didn’t try so perhaps I ought to be the one apologising to you.”

But Jaskier did know.

To some extent, at least.

He’s known for long enough that not everything was adding up and he’d ignored it, he’d done nothing about it because he’d been terrified of losing Geralt, of losing his soulmate, of losing a life he’s loved, and it turns out he’s been losing everything he didn’t even know he could have had instead.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier mumbles again, letting his forehead fall against Eskel’s as he closes his eyes.

“How does getting to the nearest inn sound?” Eskel offers.

Jaskier laughs and meets Eskel’s eyes, nodding. “Sounds like a plan I can’t argue with.”

“We’ll start with getting you to a proper bed and then go from there.”

He tries to resist that, he really does, but Jaskier simply cannot stop himself from smirking and raising an eyebrow. “Straight to bed, darling? Aren’t you even going to buy me a drink first?”

The endearingly sheepish look on Eskel’s face is almost worth all the pain.

“Though you really should buy me a drink first, for one reason or the other; I am a little dizzy still,” Jaskier mutters, having forgotten all about that because of the unprecedented pain.

Eskel curses.

Before Jaskier can even process the emotional whiplash, Eskel has lifted him to his feet and turned around, dropping to one knee. “Let’s go.”

Jaskier blinks. “Are you asking me to… climb on your back?”

Eskel turns to look at him with half a smile. “I really don’t think you’re capable of walking more than a mile more without collapsing, Jaskier.”

Well, that’s probably true. He grabs his lute and swings that onto his own back before looping his arms around Eskel’s neck, his legs locking around the witcher’s waist as he stands up effortlessly.

-

Eskel smiles as Jaskier settles on his back as if he were born to do so.

Which, quite possibly, he sort of was.

He smells like the comfort Eskel gets from when the dreams he borrows are good ones and it feels impossible that he gets to experience it in person. But it’s very much not impossible because Jaskier is a steady weight around his waist and on his shoulder and against his neck.

It’s a little overwhelming.

“So you’re the one who was dreaming of a succubus then?” Jaskier asks out of the blue.

Eskel stops walking for a second, narrowly avoids accidentally kicking Lil Bleater, and clears his throat. “Dreaming? No. No, that’s not quite how we spent the night.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jaskier laughs brightly. Eskel can feel the way his shoulders shake with the force of his amusement and it’s almost a miracle that neither of them overbalance.

“You’ll have to elaborate on that at some point, it’s going to make a great song!”

“You want to write songs about the succubi I’ve met?” Eskel asks, confused. Surely the bard could have asked Geralt about them over the years, it’s not like witchers can afford to designate who takes care of which creatures or anything.

But Jaskier snorts, pokes Eskel’s cheek, and shakes his head. “No, I- I want to write songs about… about my soulmate.”

That feels like a confession and Eskel is honoured to have received it. He hums in acknowledgement and gently squeezes one of Jaskier’s legs. “Not to worry, we have all the time in the world.”

“We do?” Jaskier asks.

Shuffling the bard’s weight a little bit, Eskel lifts his right hand so Jaskier can see his wrist and more specifically, the ouroboros etched into it. He hears Jaskier gasp before there are gentle fingers around his arm that almost make him shiver, a warm finger tracing the symbol over and over until Eskel hears quiet sniffling.

It takes a while for Jaskier to exhale softly and give Eskel’s hand back to him, after which he goes back to supporting his weight more evenly. He has plenty of his own questions but he figures it’s best to leave them for later, when they’ve both recovered from the shock.

The town comes into view sooner than expected, or perhaps Eskel had just been unknowingly pushing himself to walk faster because he can feel the way Jaskier’s grip has slowly relaxed to the point where he’s practically just draped over him like a very strange sort of cloak.

As much as he doesn’t want to let go of Jaskier, he has to when they get to the stables. Both goats are more than happy to be secured near Scorpion, who huffs at Jaskier just hard enough to send him stumbling into Eskel’s side with a small yelp.

“I’ve got you,” Eskel chuckles.

-

Jaskier grins.

“That you have,” he agrees, “but have you got a room?”

Nodding, Eskel leads them both back to the inn. But instead of going up the stairs, he guides Jaskier to the table in the corner. “Stay here, I’m going to get some food.”

Jaskier blinks, used to this scenario playing out the other way around. Eskel is gone before he can even think of replying so he just yawns and waits, shuffling over when the witcher returns because if he doesn’t lean against someone, he’s probably going to fall into his meal.

Eskel pauses for a second before sliding into the seat beside him, placing two bowls of stew in front of them. “I know you’re tired but you really should eat.”

“How ever will I repay such kindness?” Jaskier mumbles before following Eskel’s instructions.

Jaskier is immensely grateful that Eskel doesn’t mind being leaned on because almost counterintuitively, eating only makes him want to fall asleep even more. By the time they’re both finished, he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Almost there,” Eskel says, at which point he realises they’re now halfway up the stairs.

Yawning again, Jaskier keeps a tight hold of Eskel’s arm as they get to his room, thrown off when they stop by the door instead of somewhere more suitable for sleeping. “What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning.

Eskel places the lute Jaskier apparently hadn’t been strong enough to carry himself down before gesturing around vaguely. “I didn’t know anyone would be staying with me so…”

Jaskier laughs, throwing his head back. He has no idea what compels him to do so but he cups Eskel’s confused face in his hands and places a soft kiss on his nose. “Eskel, darling, you are literally my soulmate. I think we’ll be alright sharing a bed.”

He can actually feel the way Eskel smiles under his hands and can’t help grinning back, but then his knees decide to buckle for no apparent reason - aside from the general exhaustion and probably clumsy bruises, of course - and Eskel is once again the only thing keeping him upright.

He’s not entirely sure what the sequence of events is after that but he doesn’t care to puzzle over it because he ends up with his head on an actual pillow and Eskel’s arms around him and he’s never felt so comfortable and safe and content in his life.

“Don’t leave without me,” Jaskier mumbles even as he can feel himself drifting off, only slightly embarrassed at being so obvious about it.

Eskel hums quietly and brushes the pad of his thumb over Jaskier’s cheek before moving his hair away from his forehead, smiling softly as their eyes meet. “I would never even think of it,” he promises.

And somehow, despite everything else in his life that’s somehow gone wrong and fallen apart and proven that perhaps he shouldn’t be so blindly trusting of what he thinks may be the truth even if he has plenty of reasons to believe otherwise, Jaskier can't bring himself to doubt the witcher’s words even in the slightest.

If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that Eskel has always been his destiny.

-

i apologise if this finale was a little messy because i was indecisive and couldn't choose just one pov but i am so hyped to have finished !!! i hope this ending was worth all the chaos <3

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

[brywrites]

Flight Risk (Bonus)

You know I can’t leave well enough alone and I just couldn’t resist writing about that scene in the series finale in the context of this story. Spoilers for the finale below, of course! Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. 

Bonus Part: In which a profiler protects a pilot and a pilot loses something important. Five years later.

(Series Masterlist) ( Next )

_________________________________________________

“We’re gonna have to make a trade,” Rossi declares. Every head in the room turns to him.

“What kind of trade?” Luke asks.

“Lynch wants to make a clean getaway,” Rossi says. The words hang heavy in the air. Nervous glances are traded across the roundtable as they begin to understand exactly what this means.

“No,” Reid says. “No, we can’t.”

“If we play the cards right, maybe we won’t have to,” Rossi counters.

“Maybe?” he shouts. “I’m not going to risk my wife flying a psychopathic killer across the country in the hopes that maybe we’ve profiled Lynch correctly!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice but he can’t help it. He won’t allow this.

“Hey,” Rossi snaps back. “Right now that psychopathic killer is holding my wife hostage, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Reid signs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.” But still – it’s Y/N. He cannot lose her, not after everything they’ve been through, not when he’s let himself believe for so long that he can keep her safe. Not now, especially not now. “But I don’t want her on that jet with him. And I don’t want Arthur or Martin or Fikayo or any of the BAU pilots on that jet. They’re part of her team, and I won’t do that to her.”

The tension in the room is palpable as he and Rossi stare each other down. They’ve never argued like this before, and Reid hates it but he won’t back down.

“There might be another way,” Emily offers. “We can get a few of the Corps pilots on standby. They’ll have the training to take Lynch out if needed. We tell him they won’t leave U.S. airspace and we go from there. I’ll even have one of them bring the jet out. Y/N doesn’t even need to know.” Right now, Y/N is safe at home, maybe even asleep by now. He tries not to think of how she’d react if she knew that they were about to pawn Geff off to a serial killer. They’ve always treated it as their jet, but while it may fall under their department, they merely use it as a means to an end. Y/N is the captain, if Geff belongs to anyone he belongs to her.

But he knows that if Y/N were the one being held hostage, he’d do whatever it took to get her back. “Okay,” he says.

---

As it turns out, Lynch knows how to fly a plane. He’s taken Rossi as collateral, and Geff is prepared for takeoff. “Prentiss, come on, you said we needed a great plan,” Matt says through gritted teeth.

“And we have one,” she says. “There are things none of you know about that jet.” But Reid kows precisely what she’s talking about, because Y/N knows all of Geff’s secrets. There are hidden compartments Gideon commissioned, and one of them happens to hold a gun. He only hopes it’s enough to stop Lynch and save Rossi. Maybe they can still pull it off and save the day and the jet can return to the hangar without so much as a scratch.

A gunshot rings out through the darkness and they hold their breath – but then it’s two and then three and then Rossi is tumbling down the jet stairs. Prentiss and Matt rush over to grab him off the ground and pull him to safety while the rest of them keep their weapons trained on the cockpit. A smug grin peeks out at them and it makes Reid furious. That monster shouldn’t be sitting there in her seat, on her plane.

As they try to gauge Rossi’s status, Reid fires towards Lynch. Every shot just ricochets, the plane that has kept them safe protecting the man who wants to destroy them. The engines of the jet roar to life. Geff is starting down the runway. Reid and the rest of the team take off running. They shoot at the plane, some aiming for the cockpit, others aiming for the body of the jet.

“Fire at the fuel tank!” Prentiss yells. And so they do, hoping to ensure that Lynch can’t get off the ground. The fuel begins to leak from the tanks, an acidic smell rising in the air as it trails behind the jet.

“Get back!” JJ shouts. “Take cover!” They all do so without hesitation. Reid barely has time to look over his shoulder and see JJ fire the flare gun. This wasn’t part of the plan. The trail of fuel alights in a terrifying blaze and Reid realizes exactly what is about to happen. He can’t help but stare at it one last time – at Geff, the name his beloved pilot has always insisted on calling the jet. The jet that has carried his team to hell and back again. The plane that led him to the greatest love in his life. It’s just a plane, he tries to tell himself. But he knows it’s much more than that.

The explosion is loud and bright and violent. As he ducks he can see the aircraft break into pieces from the force. And when he looks up, it is nothing but a frightening field of flames with a barely intact metal tail sticking out from the fire. The team stands there, staring at the wreckage in a somber silence. The jet meant something to all of them. It only feels right to mourn its passing quietly.

But then it hits him. “Y/N is going to kill me,” Reid says. Luke is the first to laugh, and soon the whole team is chuckling, shaking their heads. It breaks the tension hanging over them.

“Yeah good luck with that,” Luke says, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’m serious!” Reid squeaks. “How am I supposed to tell her we killed her plane?”

“That’s rough buddy,” Matt says, clapping him on the shoulder. This sends JJ and Luke into further laughter. The smell of kerosene is strong, and it’s time to go. They get Rossi and Krystal and pack into the SUVs, leaving the burning past behind them.

---

Love is a safe place to land, and there’s nowhere he wants to touch down more than in her embrace. When he gets home, he finds Y/N still awake in their bed, rereading Peter Pan. “Oh thank goodness you’re home,” she says. He sits down beside her and she throws her arms around him. “I was so worried about you. What happened? Is everyone okay?”

He kisses the top of her forehead. “Lynch is dead,” he tells her. “And we’re all safe.”

“I’m so glad.” He keeps his hold on her though, and she pulls back, her eyebrows knit together. “Something’s bothering you though,” she says. “What is it?”

He sighs and she weaves her fingers through his, holding tight. “It was a hard case,” he admits. “And I was so scared that something might happen to you. But um… there was something that we didn’t plan for.” She blinks at him, waiting for him to continue. “Lynch was trying to escape first. He took Krystall hostage and threatened to hurt her if we didn’t make a trade.”

“What kind of trade?”

“He uh… he wanted Geff?” The word comes out like a question as his voice betrays his anxiety.

“No.” A single syllable of disbelief.

“We – we had to bring the jet to him. But we couldn’t let him get away, so we had to improvise?”

Her expression changes. She stares at him as though he’s told her an awful joke or made some sort of outrageous claim. As if she is desperately waiting for him to tell her it’s all made up. When doesn’t say anything, she narrows her eyes. “Spencer Reid, what did you to my plane?”

“Angel,” he says, dropping his voice to as gentle a tone as he can muster. He doesn’t want to hurt her but there’s no way around this. “I promise I tried everything. But we didn’t have a choice. He took Rossi hostage and then forced him down the stairs by shooting him. If we didn’t stop him, who knows what he would have done.” He pauses and squeezes her hand. “We tried to shoot out the fuel tanks but we weren’t fast enough. The leaking fuel made a trail though and JJ found a flare gun and… um, we kind of blew up the jet.”

“You what?” she gasps.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Geff is gone? You blew him up? Spencer, that was my plane! My plane!” She begins to cry and he hugs her close. At first she resists him, but after a moment she leans against his chest. He rests his head in the crook of her shoulder, breathing in the fresh smell of her perfume in the hopes it will erase the scent of burning kerosene. “I’m sorry,” she says, sniffling. “I know I’m being silly. I would rather have Rossi okay, and I’m glad he’s safe. I just… Geff meant a lot to me, you know?”

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

“It’s like saying goodbye to a dear friend. Oh and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye!” she cries. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

He pulls away to smile at her, running a soothing hand through her hair. “It’s a little too early for that. I think you’re just grieving something very important to you. A captain and her jet share a special bond,” he assures her, parroting back a phrase she and Arthur have said many a time. But he believes it. That jet has been an extension of herself for nearly four years. “But maybe this will be a new chapter. A new era, a new jet… and in seven months, a new member of our family.”

Y/N wipes her eyes, nodding. “Yeah. A new chapter.” She gives him a slight smile. Amelia leaps onto the bed between them, nudging her head against Y/N’s arm and purring, as if to reassure her that all will be well. She smiles and strokes the cat’s soft fur. “I’m grateful though, you know?” she says. “That that plane brought us together. And so much has happened since then.”

And so it has. True to his word, Arthur retired the day after Christmas that year, and she was promoted to captain. Fikayo was hired as her co-pilot, and instantly fit in with the BAU team. Y/N, and that first conversation they had together, completely altered the relationship between the pilots and profilers. Suddenly their worlds didn’t seem so separate anymore. Yeeqin and Saoirse got married in the most wonderfully non-traditional celebration that involved fireworks, a wall of donuts, and neon-colored gnomes. He moved in with Y/N, and soon enough their was a proposal and a wedding of their own, one attended by profilers and pilots alike where he nearly tripped over her feet as they swayed to Birdy and when she kissed him he could’ve sworn he was floating. There were dozens of cases, being framed for murder, a cult, and more. A new house and new team members and a baby on the way and a million stories and kisses and flights between it all.

Y/N reaches a hand up to caress his cheek and that smile of hers still manages to melt his heart every single time. He leans in to kiss her as sweetly as he did after their first real date and as deeply as she did the time she managed to pull from him exactly how he felt about her uniform. Eventually Amelia meows in indignation at the lack of attention she is receiving, and he pulls away to placate her by rubbing her ears.

“So I think you owe me a plane, Doctor,” Y/N teases.

“On a government salary?” he laughs. “That might take a while. But I’ll put in enough overtime to buy you a whole fleet if that would make you happy.”

Through it all, they’re happy. Reid is happy. So incredibly over the moon happy every single day that they’re together. They lie down in bed and he holds her close and whispers promises of the jet of her dreams and he can feel her laughter against his chest.

If he had to do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat, so long as it means being here by her side. A profiler and his beloved pilot. The future stretching out before them like the infinite horizon.