#but I figured they needed something sweeter and less angsty so

[shelbysbrother]

Wake Up Call (cora & helios)

Wake Up Call: One of our characters is trying to wake the other up

It was to be a morning of dull meetings for Helios. Or rather, it was according to the advisor that continued to squawk at her, rattling off every single detail to Cora like she didn’t already want to choke him. Finally, when they reached Helios’ bedroom doors, two stoic guards at either side, she rounded on the portly man with a forced smile. “Unless you want to see the king indecent, you’ll let me get him ready for these oh-so-important meetings. Okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, she bowed her head and glided through the grand double doors, closing them quietly behind her despite her heated exit. There were probably other attendants who could do this. Cora had her own rooms for more than one reason, and they were often where she spent the night, more comfortable and safe underneath her own sheets. As the dutiful wife she had to be, she came to his quarters when he called, but those weren’t always nights she wanted to remember. In fact, they hardly ever were. This morning, however, she had volunteered to rouse the king from his slumber, insisting the staff needed a break, and she needed more time with him. Truthfully, she’d had visions of being anything but sweet, yet as she turned to finally face her sleeping husband, all thoughts of toying with him vanished.

For as larger-than-life as Helios tried to make himself appear to the public, he looked awfully small in his extravagant room and his grandiose bed, the ceilings too high and the room too sparse. He looked alone. And she hated, more than anything, that he looked so innocent. Cora sighed and stepped closer to the bed, the room barely lit except for the light that slipped through the curtains. He laid face down on the bed, head buried into the pillows so much that she could barely see the side of his face. He still wore his pants and boots from the night before, his shirt the only thing that had been discarded. Probably too tired to do much else, she deducted. The sight of him made her want to put more covers on him, not off. Stars, how she hated this. She hated that her heart tugged for him right now.

It was too much like how she daydreamed it would be when everything was right. She would be the doting wife who woke him sweetly each morning, who took such good care of him for the rest of their days. And she would have, too. She would have taken such good care of him. But, the reality of it was, had he not betrayed her and everyone she loved, she would never be with him. And even with that, he still wasn’t hers. Not really. She tried to remember that as she carefully sat on the plush mattress, but the temptation to pretend, just this once, was too strong.

Her fingers glided along his bare back, running sweetly down his spine and back up again. She did this for a few moments, fingers tracing all sorts of different patterns on his back before her hand finally went to his hair, stroking it back with a gentle touch. How many times had she pictured doing this? Just this? Was this how Priam and Selene woke up next to each other? Or Rhea and Cadmus? Was this what it could be like to be married to someone you love? She sighed at the thought, finally pulling her hand away slowly when she knew she had to actually wake him soon. She couldn’t keep playing in a fantasy. Oh, Helios…

“Don’t stop,” came a gentle voice that wasn’t as thick with sleep as she thought it would be. Cora’s brows furrowed as she tried to peek over Helios’ shoulder, only to find that his eyes were still closed. Had he been awake this whole time?

Cora leaned in now, laying her arm against his back, and resting her head atop her arm. She used her free hand to stroke back his hair as she’d done before. “If you cancelled your meetings for today, I wouldn’t have to.” But he wouldn’t. “Would you cancel your meetings for me, Helios?”

It was silent, like he was afraid she might stop again if he told her the truth. He told it anyway. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I know.” She knew that if it came down to her and his stolen kingdom, he would always choose his crown. He would always do whatever it took to keep his power safe, and right now, that meant attending boring meetings. Cora could never completely have his heart so long as Norta was in the picture. If she could ever even have his heart at all. Did he know how to love? He supposedly loved Priam, and Rhea, and all of them. Look where that got them.

He turned a little now, not enough to disturb her position much, but just enough so she could lay on his chest instead of his back, her hand continuing to play with his hair as he gazed at her through hooded lids. While she watched him, she brought her hand down from his hair to stroke his cheek, then down further to trail her thumb across his bottom lip. His eyes didn’t leave hers the entire time. “Lie to me,” he whispered unexpectedly.

An unusual request, but she was curious. “What lie would you like to hear?”

Helios went quiet, expression becoming more serious, if that was possible. His hand came up to brush her hair now, a longing in his eyes that she wasn’t sure she could remember ever seeing there. “Tell me you love me.”

That, Cora had no expected. Nor did she understand why he would ask her to do that. Was this a cruel power trip? It didn’t make sense…“Why?”

“Because I want…” he trailed off, seemingly unable to finish that sentence. He wanted what, though? He wanted her? He wanted to pretend all was well as she did? What did he want? What could Helios Calore want that he didn’t already have?

She showed him mercy, though. She showed him compassion she used to always want to give him. Cora leaned in closer, not stopping until her lips were just grazing his. Then, finally, she moved just an inch more to make contact. She kissed him hesitantly at first, and then she felt his arms go around her, his response more urgent than she expected it to be. When she pulled away, she stared adoringly into his eyes, remembering days when she’d wanted just this. “I love you, Helios. I’ve always loved you, and I think I always will.”

How it would’ve made everything so much easier if that were a lie.

“Your turn,” she whispered, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Lie to me.”

He watched her a long time before answering. “What would you have me tell you?”

Cora thought long and hard about all the things she’d always wanted him to say. All the things she would never be able to trust were true now that they were married. “Tell me you love me.” He seemed surprised, like he was ready to protest if given the chance, but she didn’t want him to lie to her until she was ready, so she pressed on. “Tell me…tell me that even if you didn’t need a Skonos at your side, you would still choose me. Tell me that if you could have any girl in the world, you would still want me as your wife. Tell me I can trust you. Tell me I mean something to you.”

“Cora…” Sometimes she could see just when the realization hit Helios, over and over again, that he utterly betrayed her trust and love in him. Her eyes pleaded with him, though, to lay down his pride just this once and indulge her as he used to. Tell her these lies so she could hold on to something when she knew she could never hold on to him.

His mouth met hers again, never rushed, never demanding. Tentative, like he knew he may never get a chance to kiss her so intimately like this again. He tried to roll her onto the bed more, let her head rest against the pillows, but she stopped him, not wanting him to hover over her as he did…as he did some nights. Beneath him, she could let her mind wander. She didn’t want it to wander now. So instead they laid side by side, Helios’ hand trailing down Cora’s arm as he looked at her. It was hard to let down the stony walls she’d put up to keep out the raging inferno that was Helios. She was afraid that, if she let them down even for a second, she would melt right into him. But she tried now. She tried to let him in, if only for this moment.

“I love you.” What a sweet, sweet sound it was to hear. She closed her eyes a moment, let the lie sink in, then looked to him again so he could finish. “Could I have any woman I wanted, I would choose you. Always.” Another slow kiss to her lips. “Trust me. Please.” Again, another kiss. A ragged exhale. “You mean everything.” Carefully, he moved closer to her, pressed a kiss to her lips, her cheek, her jawline, instinct telling him to roll her over so he had a better angle. Self control telling him to pull back again. No one ever said he wasn’t a smart man. “Let me in, Cora,” he whispered, their eyes locking in a heated stare. “I miss you.”

It hit her, this time, that maybe he was as starved for touch and affection and warmth as she was. That being the violent king he’d become meant being a lonely king. And something inside her told her it was what he deserved. He’d asked for this - demanded it - and so he got it. Ironic, actually. She wasn’t the only one who should’ve been careful of what she wished for.

There was another part of her, though, that knew they were so similar sometimes. Both passionate people, both locked away in their own towers - by his own doing, but still. If they had no obstacles between them, they could set the world on fire. What an even bigger tragedy that made all of this.

She pressed her lips to his in a sweet kiss, pulling away after a while to rest her forehead against his. “Do you have meetings tomorrow?”

A huff of a laugh before he shook his head. “No.”

“Good.” She brought her hand to his cheek, thumb stroking the skin there. Maybe, just this once, she could let herself enjoy him. She could let herself enjoy her marriage. “Then I’ll come to you tonight. We can lay like this. Just this. And we can…we can wake up in the morning together. We can hold each other and not be rushed to let go.” She smiled, biting her lower lip to try and contain the overwhelming excitement and nervous energy she suddenly felt. “How does that sound?”

For the first time in a long time, she thought she saw a sincere, happy smile cross Helios’ face. She’d forgotten how boyish he could look when he wasn’t so stoic or stressed. “I think the day will go by too slowly now.”

Grinning, she gave him one last, lingering kiss before she reluctantly parted with him, not missing how he seemed to gravitate toward her just a little, as if he didn’t wish to part either. She got off the bed, walking toward the large window, and feeling Helios’ eyes on her for every second of it. “Prepare yourself,” she said, turning back to him with a smile. He smiled that infectious smile back, turning to bury his face in the pillows so the light wouldn’t blind him. Finally, she pulled back the curtain, and sunlight poured into the bedroom. It was the brightest she could remember it being in a very long time.

[lyz-fics]

Bakugou X FEM! Reader: Melancholy Nostalgia

Hey Guys! Lyz Here!

Angsty Bakugou X Reader anyone? Welp… SIKE I don’t care what you think, it was requested so I’m writing for my blasty boii.

Word Count: 1,829 Words

Warning: SFW - But Angsty

Summary: Bumping into someone you used to know, really you want to know if they have changed at all since you last saw them but… it might be best not to but you can’t help yourself. Will they be pleased to know that you haven’t changed either?

---===✨🎇🎆💀🎆🎇✨===--- 

You were taking the train home. It was the end of the day, and the train was nothing less than packed to the brim with workers and other students who were just trying to make their way home. The train was making you sway at every stop as more and more people were getting onto the train to get home. The only thing on your mind was getting home, and at this moment your eyes were glued to your phone. Reading through the news to see why the train was taking so long. While scrolling aimlessly, you discovered there had been a villain attack so all the trains had been delayed and you would have to get off at the next stop.

Letting out a sigh, you shoved your phone into your backpack and pushed your way to the door, muttering sorries as you went. You eagerly waited for the train to stop at the approaching station. As the doors opened, you were immediately pushed through to the station as a wave of people tried their best to get out of the way, or in your case, take every step that could possibly get in your way. Being pushed around even more, it was no surprise that you bumped into even more people than usual. Finally bumping into someone hard enough to rattle you, you had to start really apologizing to the man in front of you.

Shaking your head, you redeemed yourself from your confusion and looked up at the man in front of you. You started apologizing before you could even take a proper look at him. Bringing your eyes up, you first noticed his spiky blonde hair, how it fell just above his eyes – his red, fiery eyes. Eyes that bore into his soul, eyes that you remembered – vaguely remembered.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The blonde man yelled, glaring at you with his fiery eyes. “You could've-,” but his words caught as he stared down at you. Tilting his head past your (H/L)-length (H/C) hair, he caught the smallest glimpse into your glazed (E/C) orbs.

~ ~ ~

His mind was racing as he started to slowly recall memories from his childhood. Running through the forest with his gang of stooges as Deku ran behind him – he felt like he was really inside that memory as he turned around to see a smiling face running beside him. This girl, running beside him, (H/C) hair blowing in the wind as it crossed her face.

“Kacchan,” a little Izuku yelled as he ran at the back of the pack, “(N/N), I can't run that fast.”

“Hurry Izuku, we can’t wait for you,” the girl yelled, as she cocked her head back. Running faster now this little girl passed him, spinning on her heel she turned to face the boy behind her and jumped towards him. Shouts of laughter dimmed as Bakugou was forcibly thrown back to reality – back to the dirty station he was standing in.

~ ~ ~

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled as you started to turn and walk off.

Bakugou snapped straight out of his gaze just seconds after you finished talking but by this time people had crowded around you enough to make the distance between you two seem like forever. His palm went straight to his head as he let out a low groan to express his disappointment in himself. Looking down, he noticed that something must have fallen off of your bag as there was a small keychain laying on the floor. He took it without hesitation and ran after you.

Now it was your turn for your head to spin. You remembered all the times you would spend with him.

~ ~ ~

“Don’t get in my way idiot,” Bakugou yelled as he pushed you out of his way, “Just because you can run faster than me doesn’t make up for the fact that you still don’t have a quirk.” Falling to the floor, you waited for that blonde jerk to pass you before you wiped your eyes of the falling tears and got up again. You needed to stay strong, you needed to be kind, even to those who may not deserve your kindness.

“(N/N)?” A small boy asked. Turning around to smile at him you walked up to him, giving his hair a small ruffle before you turned and started running with Bakugou again.

~ ~ ~

Slowly being pulled back into reality with the nudging from everyone around you, you could finally hear his voice calling after you. Your head was spinning; you could hear the voices from your childhood yelling at you while you also could hear his voice in reality, calling after you in a sweeter but still gruff tone. You stopped where you stood to spot the blonde, but there was no hope among the never-ending sea of people. Turning in your spot, you got quite a scare when the boy pushed through from behind you.

Bakugou had no idea what he was going to say to you when he caught up to you. To be honest, he hadn't thought that far ahead. So he just went with whatever came out of his mouth, “(Y/N), Uhhh……you dropped this…” not a good start but still, “be more careful next time, idiot.”

“Yeah,” you were stunned, he really hadn't changed, had he? Still the same, but either way you had to be better, be kind, be nice. “Thank you,” you smiled at him as you walked off again before he could say anything else.

Bakugou walked off confused; he couldn’t imagine that you were still the same person from years ago. That same little girl, outgoing in every other way and the kindest person there. As much as his brain tried to wander it always came back to you. He was intrigued, confused, how could you still be the same person he had been with all those years ago?

♥     ♥     ♥     ♥     ♥

Bakugou sat at his desk, it was the end of the day and he had just finished his homework and he was ready for a good night's rest before school tomorrow. School, how to get to school, train, train station, people, you. His mind always wandered back to you and it made him furious. Why couldn’t he get you out of his mind? Throwing his head back, he pushed his chair away from his desk and trudged over to his bed to lay down. Throwing himself onto the bed, he let out a sigh as he relaxed into his pillow and drifted away.

~ ~ ~

Once again he was running through the forest with his stooges. You were running beside him – like the memory he had seen at the train station, but it was different. It felt like he was watching the memory play over now and not actually in the memory like before.

He watched as you ran, running faster now, jumping in front of him, as he started to remember more and more. He watched as he pushed you to the side and yelled at you. He tried to yell at himself, trudging through the river below him to grab himself, he had no idea why he was trying to protect you – he just had this urge that he had to follow. He reached out but his hand went straight through the mirror image of himself and disappeared. He watched himself walk off, starting to push his goons around again. He watched the small girl before him, falling to her knees as tears rolled past her cheeks and landed on her hands. Eyes flicking from the careless boy that was continuing to run with his goons without a care in the world, and this small fragile figure that was sitting on the grass. You watched as she wiped her eyes and started running again, so fragile yet so fearless.

~ ~ ~

Bakugou was thrown awake forcibly. He was panting as he sat up in his bed, he was hot, sweaty and he was disturbed by what he had just seen. Was he really like that to her as a child? Oh, God! What had he been doing to you?

He held his head in his hands as he listened to the room go silent around him, only the faint sound of his breathing filling the empty space. He took a deep breath in and held it but the breathing around him continued. His head shot straight up to find the source of the breathing but he became cautious as he saw a figure outside of his window. The window was held open with a pole and the figure was sitting at the ledge with their whole body out of the window.

Turning himself to face the window, he could see the shadow of your hair blow in the wind. He called for you, and you turned to face him, but he was shocked by what he saw. He saw the tears streaming down your face, your eyelashes wet from crying, eyes red from being rubbed, and your skin paler than usual. He ran out of bed to go to you and he reached out, but you disappeared right in front of him. Your body had dissolved as it did in his dream. As he turned around, wondering where you had gone, he fell. He turned and he could see you reaching out of his window for his hand; he was the one falling off the ledge now.

He awoke with a start and this time tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. All this pain he felt when he looked at you, did he really put you all through that? All this pain and you were still making an effort to play nice with him. What the hell has he done?

♥     ♥     ♥     ♥     ♥

Days passed and Bakugou took the train every day after that encounter with you. Every day he wished even more that he could see you again. See you again but he had no idea what he was going to say. He didn’t have even the faintest clue about what he was going to say to you. He took the train to and from school every day but he never saw you. In the back of his mind, he was worried that you remembered those things too and you had finally had enough and you… you… oh god, he couldn’t bear to think of something like that.

Ripped from his thoughts, this time he was the one to bump into someone. Keeping his head low, he apologized and tried to continue walking, but he couldn’t take two steps before he turned to face the stranger before him.

“Yeah,” a girl's voice echoed in his head, “Nice seeing you too, Bud.” Tears pricked his eyes once again as he looked at the girl before him.

[my-happy-little-bean]

Figment of My Mind

pairing: none~ warnings: mild swearing, body horror, death (though it is implied that it is imaginary), bloody imagery, mentions of poison, mentions of thunder storms, mentions of fire/allusions to burn-out, slightly unsympathetic!patton / morally grey!patton, unsympathetic!janus, remus, & virgil words: 3334

summary: Roman tries to make the right choice, but falls into something much more than just “wrong”. 

Or: the one where Roman chose neither the wedding or the callback.

a/n - hello, it is i, bean; posting some rough, angsty horror at like 1 am because that’s !! just !! where we’re at right now! working on everything but the thing we’re supposed to be working on! 

i was heavily inspired by the song “figment of my mind” by bruno major (someone pleeeease make an animatic with this song it’s great), so that’s what the lyrics are! it was also written to make @wisepuma23​ and @thesocialbookwormishere​ proud lol – they’re such talented beans, and i wanted to hop on their angsty train to horror town lol. 

i’m sorry if this isn’t the happiest journey, but i really enjoyed writing something! it reminds me of that angst i wrote for patton when “can lying be good” came out – ah, the good ol’ days of bean angst lol. 

enjoy!

[read on ao3~]

–– 

“i traveled into deep space to see what i could find a purple angel led me to the universe inside.

welcome to the real world not the dream you left behind.  that was all a figment of your mind.”

–– 

When Roman left his room, the stars in the sky were only still forming.

It was late at night. Thomas (and by extension, Patton) had already gone to bed in tears. They have been doing that all week.

Logan had confided in him a few days back, confessing that he wasn’t sure why Patton was crying. Patton had nothing to lose with the verdict Roman made. In fact, he still won in some ways. He had theorized to empty, static-filled ears that perhaps Patton’s tears were just a reflection of Thomas’ emotions; a normal reaction everyone dramaticized to illogical extents.

Then he theorized idly that maybe Patton was crying because he felt like he was wrong the whole time.

(Roman didn’t leave his room for two days straight after hearing that.)

They didn’t have much left for Roman nowadays, and neither did Thomas. The days crept closer to dreaded April 13th and no one made a sound. Nothing was being done, nothing was being made. It was as if everyone was haunted by Roman’s decision; as if the sound of the gavel was echoing everywhere he stepped. 

And then, as April 12th ended– when Roman finally thought it was all over–

he realized that neutrality in a war was the enemy.

(In a moment of hypocrisy, Patton yelled at him, “Dishonourable.”)

So that was why he was here, sneaking out through the hidden door of his room and into the Imagination. He moved swiftly across the fields of nighttime fog and dew-covered grass to the giant, steel gates guarding The Dark Side.

Or, the other side. 

(It hurt less to think of himself like an ‘other’ rather than...well, that.)

He stood before the towering gates. It made sense that he felt like he was crossing paths into the dark forest Disney movies warned him about. A streak of lightning cracked across the sky like splintering glass, and every three minutes, a maniacal cackle shook the ground at beneath feet. 

Leave it to Remus to be so dramatic. 

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he thought wearily, gripping the hilt of his sword just in case. Would he even let you near him?

And then, a bitter thought: There has to be some family who will. 

Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed his shoulder. Lightening screamed with him as he turned on his heel and whipped his sword tall in front of him. 

“Show yourself, vil–”

Then, his vision cleared. 

It was suddenly raining in the Imagination, and Virgil stood in it, drenched.

“Virgil,” he hissed, slowly lowering his sword. “I could have killed you.”

“Can’t die.” The words came out as a low rumble, one that shook the earth beneath them in a different way. “Not real, remember?” 

“But you– but we’re–”

Virgil shook his head, waving a hand in front of him with a smug smile.

“Relax, Princey.” The old nickname pressed itself into Roman’s arm like a curse crawling on doomed lands. “Just some dark, 3 am humour.”

It wasn’t much reassurance, but Roman didn’t care. He was already clinging onto it tightly, never wanting to let it go.

“What are you doing here, J.D-lightful?” 

“Trying to figure out what the fuck you’re up to.” Virgil leaned forward, almost cockily. “What are you doing here?”

A pause. Roman forced his stare down at the rotten dirt below him. 

“I’m going to fix everything,” he muttered. 

Virgil skipped the first obvious question. “And you think Remus is going to help with that?” 

“I think something there will.” Roman pressed his feet into the ground with a snarl. He gripped onto the hilt of his sword even tighter. “If I go now, Remus will never even need to know.” 

Roman noticed how Virgil grit his teeth and clutched the sleeves of his gridded hoodie as if it’d swallow him whole and make him disappear completely. 

“What do you even need in there?” 

Roman turned his back on him as another crack of lightning shattered the glassy sky above them.

“Remus controls intrusive and destructive thoughts,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “And what is the only destructive thought plaguing all of us right now?” 

The answer hung between them, dead as the grass impaled by the ends of the metal gates.

“What if Thomas had gone?” 

“So you made a decision then.” Virgil’s voice, despite its venom, held an edge of worry. “A bit too late to figure out what the right choice was, no?”

Roman huffed, standing tall despite the fact that his words made him shrivel. 

“If you’re just going to stand there and be completely unhelpful,” Roman growled, walking towards the gate and grabbing the handle, “I’m just going to take my leave now–” 

“Wait.”

Roman stiffened at the layered tone of Virgil’s voice. He spun around to face him against his will, being forced to look at the hooded side. 

Virgil suddenly stuck his hand out, and Roman saw a glimpse of dark eyeshadow painted in thick layers over itself under his eyes.

“If you cross, you know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” 

Roman blinked. “What?” 

“You– do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” 

“Not the point of an adventure, is it, Marilyn Morose?”

Virgil groaned. “I should let the damn thing eat you alive, Jesus Christ…” 

“Seriously, what are you talking about?” 

Virgil waved his hand, still outstretched. 

“Let me take you.” Another bolt of lightning pierced the sky. Roman felt as if it was going to fall on him at any second. “If you can survive with me, you’ll probably leave with what you really wanted.” 

Roman stared at his hand, as if the offer in it grew legs and was crawling up that inky checkered sleeve. Virgil’s words seemed to swarm in his head, and he didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but something told him that he needed to listen.

Virgil’s hand floated between them like a paranoid ghost.

And so, with a deep breath, Roman took it. 

–– 

“we flew amongst the patterns, impossible designs they’d been there the whole time hidden by my eyes

if i’d had a body it surely would've cried but tears were a figment of my mind”

–– 

Roman felt himself fall apart when he touched Virgil; as if Virgil was passing sharp sparks between their palms, and those sparks were finding cracks in skin Roman didn’t even know existed.

It felt as if his entire world flipped vertically, the ground defying the laws of reality and throwing him, somehow, onto the floor at the other side of the gate. 

Roman couldn’t even feel Virgil’s hand anymore. Instead, he just felt lightning stab his chest and blur his vision, a swirl of purple, yellow, and green swimming in front of him.

Then, it all stopped in an audition room. 

Virgil was nowhere to be seen, but Roman could feel him everywhere. He made himself believe that it was just because Thomas always felt this way before an audition.

Maybe it was the monotone filter of it all. Everything in the room—the camera, the table, two chairs, the walls—were various shades of black and white. 

And he was standing, stuck, in front of the empty chair. He still felt dizzy from whatever hellish trip Virgil had sent him on. He wanted to stumble on his feet just to make it feel more real, but he was rooted on the ground, completely still.

Then, lightning struck the two chairs and when the smoke cleared,  Deceit and Patton were staring at him, 

their eyes crossed out in yellow, drawn-on dashes. 

“SING.” 

Roman felt himself reel back at Patton’s voice, and a piano– out of sight, out of mind– began to play. The moral side had leaned over the table and slammed his fists into its surface, dark cracks in the wood blossoming from the contact. The noise was so loud, yet useless in muffling the haunted ivory keys, which played a hollow echo of Roman’s favourite audition song.

Fuck. 

Deceit said nothing, but he did smile at Roman in that kind– no, deceitful way he always did.

Did Deceit always have that line near his lip?

Roman shook his head. Forget Deceit. This audition wasn’t what he wanted. This was Thomas’ dream. This is what they had to choose. Mary Lee and Lee would surely understand, and so would Patton. He was selfless all the time, he deserved this. Deceit was right. 

In fact, Patton, in a fabricated moment of clarity, could possibly understand that now. Perhaps his command was actually encouragement; encouragement Roman missed oh-so much. 

Roman cleared his throat, straightening himself up. He could suddenly feel the ghost of Thomas mirror his movement in a lag. 

The role didn’t even need Thomas to sing, but Roman did as he was told anyway. Maybe he had to play along to hold this decision in his hands and save everyone. 

He smiled bravely.

“When you come home to me, I’ll wear a sweeter smile, and hope that for a while you’ll–” 

“FAIL.” 

Roman blinked. But he was perfectly in tune with– 

“FAIL!” Patton screamed at him again, lunging forward over the table, which split in two. The sound of the piano above them began to eerily croak.

“Patton, I–” 

“YOU FAILED!” Patton pointed at him as the accusation slipped his lips. Yellow poison leaked from the corners of his snarl and the piano went out of tune into a mess of sharps and flats. 

Deceit sat still. 

“DISHONOURABLE.” “WRONG.” 

The words suddenly began to layer over each other in what felt like an infinite descending tone.

“YOU SIDED WITH THE VILLAIN AND–” 

“HOW COULD YOU LET HIM GET AWAY WITH–” “WHAT KIND OF HERO–”

Roman finally tore his feet from the ground in shock. When he looked down at what initially bounded him, he saw yellow snapdragons coated with blood from his ankles, which was now pierced with thorns. The red and the yellow was so sharp– too sharp– in the midst of the black and white of the audition room.

On the broken piles of flowers he stepped away from laid the ghost of Thomas; on his knees and shaking.

“–FAILS?”

He felt tears slip down his cheeks and freeze into sharp crystals digging into his skin. In front of him was a broken dream, a broken man, the wrong choice–

And in the corner of his eye, Roman watched as Deceit grinned;  the line extending his smile cracking. 

Out through the cracks leaked blood. 

–– 

“i was shown a few things I'd been getting wrong she told me i’m a good man and have been all along

by the way I heard her say, ‘there’s no such thing as time it’s all a figment of your mind’."

–– 

Roman’s scream ended when he was flipped upside down,  now standing at an altar with a bouquet of yellow carnations.

The tears from the audition room were no longer piercing his skin, but they lingered as static in the form of a sticky residue. He was very certain that he was going to kill Virgil once he got home. This black and white world was somehow too bright, too daunting. 

And he left him alone in it.

Roman focused his vision on the new sight in front of him, holding his bouquet tightly like some kind of chilling reminder. 

A bride and a groom were walking away from the altar, their backs facing him. People were in the crowd, throwing the same yellow carnations into the air. It was a happy sight, despite the monochrome tinge. Violins sang brightly in what felt like the perfect photograph. 

Perhaps this was the choice Virgil was talking about; the one he’d leave with; the one he really wanted. Yes, he could want this. Maybe he even needed this.

Because at the end of the aisle was Patton, black and white with a sharp grin. 

Another layer of violins was placed on top of the pre-existing ones. 

“kiddo, i’m so proud of you!”

Roman’s breath hitched, holding the bouquet tighter. Mary Lee and Lee were already gone, yet everyone kept throwing their flowers. 

“you’re so good.  so good.”

“my hero.”

Roman broke into a wide grin. This decision felt so close. Patton’s voice felt like a rush of summer air in the midst of a cold, winter night. The words felt like they were close– so close– to carrying Roman on his back closer towards this decision; like they were already spinning the hands of the clock back and–

Patton suddenly became blurry in his vision, and a green figure appeared beside him, 

holding a dead Thomas by the neck.

Shit.

A familiar cackle cut through the illusionary Shepard tone created by the violins, which once played a sickly sweet melody in his ears. Roman looked at Remus, horrified, and then at Thomas. 

Thomas was wearing his wedding outfit — Roman recognized it because he helped choose it, of course. And it was beautiful. 

But at its seams were falling ashes; crispy burnt ends to such a beautiful suit. 

And Thomas was white as a sheet, slowly crackling away in embers where he hung.

Remus’ grin was made of bloodied pearls, his white streak cracking and spreading in patches to other parts of his hair. He threw the Thomas corpse– was he really dead?– onto the ground and pulled back his morning star by both hands, ready to strike–

Then Patton stepped between Remus and Thomas, holding his hands over his face to catch the spikes of the morning star before it could finish its swing down. The violins shrieked with Patton and Roman watched as his hands began to bleed upon contact. The flowers were still being thrown, as if to celebrate this horrible victory.

Patton, struggling against Remus' persistent force, let out a heartbreaking sob.

“...how are we still being hurt?”

“why is he getting worse?” 

“he shouldn’t be here, thomas is good–”

“–because you chose this –”

Roman’s heart broke when Patton stiffly met his eyes.

“what more are you going to do to stop this?”

Roman started to run towards the horrid sight, almost against his will. The violins hung above him, the chords pulling him back by his wrists, still attached to the bouquet of yellow carnations.

And he was screaming; screaming Patton’s name and crying as the petals of all the flying flowers slashed sharply at his face. The aisle seemed to make itself infinite, as of stringing Roman along on a treadmill moving too fast. 

He could see the outline of Remus amidst the slowly-paling flower flurry; bright green with a thick red puddle pooling around his feet. He saw the outline of his grin, blood dripping from each tooth.

Patton’s voice was barely a whisper, yet was loud enough for it to echo all around Roman’s head.

“you’re not doing enough.” 

“he has to be stopped.”

“stop this, hero, stop–”

And when Roman finally reached the end of the aisle,  Thomas was nothing but ashes on the floor. 

Patton stepped towards Roman, who slowly backed away. No no no no no–

Then, Patton grabbed the bouquet he was holding.

Roman gasped and looked down. Patton was bleeding red, palms cracked with scars and holes from Remus’ weapon. 

He at least tried to save Thomas, Roman suddenly realized. What did I do? 

Patton’s hand pierced the thorny stems of the carnations and his blood mixed with dripping green venom. 

His tearful eyes met Roman’s.

“...what did you do?”

The air around Roman thinned. He looked over Patton’s shoulders and saw Remus, grinning and holding up his bloodied morning star. 

It was on fire, and it caught onto the white cracks in his hair.

––

“waking with eyes closed from technicolor dreams crystal kaleidoscopes were singing blue and green

realer than real in front of me if only you could see what i could see”

––

Roman was fa(i/l)ling. 

He was stuck in a spinning kaleidoscope; and circling him were shattered fragments of the horrible decision he made– the decisions he could make. 

The memory of Deceit’s blood-soaked smile in the audition room. 

The sight of Remus grinning with fire crackling embers in his hair. 

The thought of Patton, glitching into two with his hands holding his head, being torn apart.

The view from below the towering gate (the lightning shattering the glassy sky)

and Virgil, standing in front of him with white cracks in his eyeshadow, pulling his hand back from Roman

to wrap himself in his old hoodie.  

The violins had stopped and the piano had paused. What did this mean? Roman tried to hold himself around his feeble body ��� if he even had one right now. 

No. He shuddered if he even could– no he was real. He was here, he was real,  and he was failing. 

Anxiety crawled through the cracks in his vision. He was straining his eyes trying to look at each fragment of his mistake. What did he need to do, what did he want to do, what was right, what was–

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

NO! Anything but this, he wanted to plead. This wasn’t it, he was supposed to be good– he couldn’t fail– what has he done?!

Suddenly, each fragment snapped and cracked in front of him, the kaleidoscope shattering piece by piece. 

And reflected in each broken shard was Roman.

Paranoia’s voice echoed in his ears: 

“Then why did you leave with this?”

––

“i slowly found my body, color began to fade i heard a piano playing a knowing serenade

this world feels backwards to my open eyes ‘cause it's all a figment of my mind.”

––

“–atton, if you touch him, you run the risk of–”

“–ET ME GO! ROMAN! ROMAN, WAKE UP, PLE–”

“–fucking stupid, how could he be so–”

Roman gasped, feeling himself seize up and face darkness. His head suddenly ached and he rubbed the spot he hit as he heard a low grumble from his left.

“Roman!” Patton. Roman shuddered. Patton’s sobs made him want to keep his eyes closed even more. “Roman, open your eyes, you’re home.” 

“Patton, you mustn’t alarm him.” That was Logan. “And Virgil, are you okay? See, this is why I told you not to stand so close...”

A part of him was reassured to hear logic return to him. The nightmare must be over then, right?

He blindly grabbed to his left, as if to apologize to the side he hit, and felt stitches crossing in small x’s on fabric. A sigh of relief; there was Virgil. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Virgil’s voice sounded so distant, yet so clear. “You could’ve gotten hurt, going there alone–”

“Now what did we say about alarming him.”

“Roman.” Patton’s voice stung the most, an echo of the hell he just fell through. “Roman, open your eyes. It’s me– it’s us.”

And so Roman obliged, like he always did with Patton. 

…

When Roman opened his eyes, he saw that he was back in his room, lying on his bed, staring at a blurry, white ceiling. As he sat up, Patton’s sobs grew louder and Logan’s breath hitched. 

Virgil stayed quiet.

“What is it?” he asked groggily. Patton dissolved into more tears. Roman watched as Logan, sliced in half by navy blue and grey shards, held Patton close. 

“Guys?” he asked again. He looked at Virgil and frowned. Some patches were grey, why were they–

Roman gasped, pushing past his family and turning his back on their grief. He made his way to the mirror in the corner of his room, tearing the hair in front of his eyes aside. 

And staring back at him in his cracked mirror were irises split in half. 

Black and amber.

-

click here for a new and improved masterlist of all my writing if you’re interested ^v^

[sweetdeathwrites]

You Are The Right One

Pairing: Gokudera Hayato/Reader

Summary: Gokudera knows what you mean to him. But what does he mean to you? 

Warnings: fluff, romance, some sexual situations/suggestiveness (i.e. Gokudera is thirsty), angst

Word Count: 6,929

(Songfic to You Are The Right One by Sports)

(re/cross?posted from my AO3 and Luna! Original A/N below)

(Hi!! I know I've been gone a long time and I'm SORRY!! I've been going through a lot of stuff (I've been in 3 productions since the last time I've posted .. i think it's only 3.. but I've been a NAMED character in 2 out of 3!! the third one doesn't count bc it was a bunch of skits and so strict plot... so i guess that means... i was a named character in BOTH of my productions?~ I just performed in Grease 2 days ago on friday as Jan, my twinkie girl!! I got to eat twinkies on stage!! It was v exciting and I had a blast! some people I know from the hawaii theatre came down to see me and one of my dad's movie friends and they loved me! one of them told my mom i'm going to broadway! haha!!! ^v^ isn't that sweet? I don't think so but that's a lovely hope, isn't it? I'd like to dedicate this fic to someone who means the world to me, the lovely GuardianAngel07! I love you so much and I know that you're going through a lot right now and I just want you to know I'm always here for you, no matter what, and I know that you are busy and have a lot on your mind, and I just want you to know I'm never mad if we don't talk for a while! I think you get a little worried and feel guilty when we don't talk, but that's not it at all! I care for you so much and if your mental health needs you to take a break, then TAKE that break, honey!!!1! I'm always here to support you and I want what's best for you, mentally, physically, and emotionally!! I care for you a whole lot, okay? I'm always in your corner!!! I'm sorry that this fic isn't what I originally planned to gift to you (the original was much sweeter!! and less angsty!!) but this was the one that was most finished and I figured that anything with our lovely KHR boys would help to cheer you up! I hope you like it!!,, Uhm.... I've also got a lot planned! I released a LONG hannibal fic on AO3 and it's not the best bc I started it 2 years ago.yikes... but I'm finally gonna write for it again after a year but I'm going to revamp it (at least fix the grammar!) before I release it here! It's v violent and prolly gonna get really sexual too, so there's a warning, but i'll warn again when I actually post it. to be truthful, I had this almost fully done for months. I just hated it and hated it and hated it. I've been hating my writing a lot recently which isn't good bc I want to finish a book before I graduate and I'm taking an AP english exam on the 16th, so it's awful timing. I haven't been doing the best but I'm looking forward to summer........ only 18 more days left before I'm free.... then I have summer then I'm a senior and ..yikes....;;; but I've got some summer plans! I'm going to cut and dye my hair (I just realized nothing is stopping me from getting a Guzma cut and dye... then I can dye my hair pink!! and any other color after!!!) and I'll visit a friend in alaska, then I'll get a job somewhere.......... i got no college fund........... sorry for dragging on and on!! uhhhh just expect more from me (hopefully soon..... @GuardianAngel07 i hope ur ready for more awful songfics from me.... because i've written some reeeeaaaaallll angsty and sad ones, already with u in mind!! why do you always get the worst of the bunch.......,,,) love u all! and please leave a review if u enjoyed this! I seriously would've stopped posting all together if it wasn't for some incredibly kind people (looking at you, GA07!!) and a recent review for my hannibal fic on AO3 (or rather, reviews. yes, this person left MULTIPLE. very detailed and heartfelt, and I was giddy for days after!! So if you want more, PLEASE leave a review!! it's not fun to post and feel like you're just yelling into a void!! yell back at me!)

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You were the right way I was just waiting for you to look at me Is there a wrong time? Baby, I’m guessing Just let me know He can never get a break, can he? Gokudera sighed, smoke curling past his lips into the chill autumn air. The leaves were just beginning to change color and he cursed how the light cast amber shadows over the smooth plane of your face, cursed how he couldn’t trace the honey light with his fingertips and kiss the darkness away. His tongue clicked against his teeth and he took another drag of his cigarette. Hayato tried to ignore you. He really did. But how can he, when you look as good as you do with a rose-pink blush that covers your cheeks and ears when someone cracks a joke that makes you laugh until you can barely catch your breath? How your jaw drops open in delight before you remember where you are and hide your smile with your hand– something he desperately hoped you would lose the habit of because, god, did you look pretty when you smiled– and blot away the joyful tears in your eyes? How could he not give you his complete, undivided attention when you were as sugar-sweet as you were? His jade eyes flickered back to you again, almost against his will. Your face was bright, eyes glinting in the soft light of the dying afternoon as you teased one of your friends, grinning widely as they swiped playfully at you in return. Gokudera groaned and his head slumped back against the pillar he was leaning against a little too quick, sending an unpleasant shock up his spine. “Shit,” he hissed, stomping out his cigarette on the concrete behind Namimori High and massaging the back of his skull gingerly. What a day. First, Tsuna and Yamamoto had nearly been killed on their way to school again; of course, Gokudera saved both of them, although Yamamoto he saved slightly more reluctantly. Gokudera was strong– of course he was, he wasn’t Tsuna’s right hand for nothing. He just wished he could prove to you that he was strong enough for you, too… Then, that bastard that patrolled the school like some kind of obsessive freak was on his back again. Something about being late for class. Reborn showed up and solved the matter rather quickly, but that didn’t keep Gokudera from steaming out the ears for another hour or so. But the worst part of the day? It was definitely you, without a doubt. You filled his head, turning his thoughts and coherency to cotton in his head and made his mouth as dry as summer. Summer… Gokudera remembered, during lunch period, that you had gone to the beach with him and his friends. You wore a red bathing suit. Red as the fireworks at the summer festival, where he almost told you his feelings but panicked at the last second– but that was a story for another time–and, at one point, clung to his arm to whine about how hot the sun was, and how you were definitely going to get a sunburn. When Gokudera grumbled something back to you about reapplying sunscreen you had winked at him, grinning wide and asking if he wanted to help you with that. By then, there was no doubt in his mind that his milky skin was as red as your bathing suit. From his blushing, dazed haze, you managed to squeeze a frozen lemonade and a plain vanilla ice cream out of him and his wallet. “Share?” you gently cocked your head to one side and held out the icy drink for Gokudera to taste. His mouth was incredibly dry, as it always seemed to be around you– damn you, and damn him for being so weak for you– and he hesitated. You sipped your lemonade languidly and blinked up at him, heavy eyelashes fluttering and all doe-eyed, and his chest clenched in such a way that it brought him agony and ecstasy in equal measure. “Hm?” you hummed, waiting for an answer. He opened his mouth to deny your offer when a heavy stream of melted ice cream rolled down the side of the cone and over your hand. A surprised yelp and a curse left your throat as you hurried to clean the treat off of the cone. When you switched the cone to your other hand to lick the drops of vanilla from your palm, Gokudera’s brain snapped back to being fully functional and he hurriedly agreed to sharing with you. As you complained once again about the heat and the lack of more interesting ice cream flavors at the snack bar, Gokudera thought of how silly he was being for thinking of sharing the ice cream as an indirect kiss– an indirect tongue kiss, more accurately. But more honestly, it was more like the two of you just swapped spit–but that’s not a very pleasant thing to think of, no matter how much he liked you. He wasn’t in middle school anymore; he shouldn’t be so swayed by this! He shouldn’t feel so hot and his heart shouldn’t be beating so fast. A cool ocean breeze swept your hair away from your face as you shook ice chunks in your frozen lemonade, loosening them enough to drink. Gokudera turned his gaze to the clear blue sea, his friends wading in it, and the lazy scrawl of puffy white clouds across the sky and he wondered if he could gather the courage to ask for a sip of the lemonade, too. If he was only going to get an indirect kiss, he wanted a proper one. Slowly coming out of his reverie, Gokudera realized he had been looking at you the whole time. The shade that Namimori cast over him wasn’t enough to cool his embarrassed blush and he hoped you hadn’t noticed. Gokudera nearly jumped out of his skin when something in his pocket buzzed. He fished out his phone– obviously, of course it was his phone. He must be more tired than he thought, to be startled by his own phone. [Baseball Freak] whatcha lookin at? Snapping his head up, Gokudera scanned his surroundings, looking for any sign of Yamamoto. God, how embarrassing to be caught staring at his crush by the person most likely to tease him about it… [Baseball Freak] up here Yamamoto was leaning out of one of the windows of a classroom far above Gokudera’s head, waving at him without a care in the world. It was then that Gokudera remembered why he was waiting outside at all, staring at you so wistfully– Tsuna and Takeshi had to attend an after school remedial session for their poor grades… No matter how many tutoring sessions they both received from Reborn and Hayato and a variety of other eccentric characters that always seemed to appear out of nowhere, they still couldn’t retain anything they learned… especially not math. Shaking his head angrily, the silver haired boy punched out a response to him but his phone buzzed again before he could send it. [Baseball Freak] see something over there u like? I think u do~~~ aren’t they just sooo cute?? >///7///<   Gokudera bit his tongue. How dare Yamamoto say that about you?! It was true, he had to admit, but his pride was hurt from being so easily caught, heart read with such dead-on accuracy that he responded the only way he knew how to. [Me] PISS OFF A rich laugh filled the air above him and only served to spur Gokudera on, cracking his knuckles, clenching his jaw, and wishing he could beat Takeshi into taking what he said back. [Baseball Freak] u know, if u don’t make a move, someone else will………….they’re so pretty and smart and nice!! who wouldn’t want to date them?~ Gokudera’s rage calmed, eerily still. He knew that someone would make a move on you if he didn’t soon. He didn’t miss the way that the boys in the class would offer to carry your bags and would do anything to get just a little closer to you to sling their arms around your shoulders, pretending to show you something in a book, and to breathe in your light perfume. Or the way that girls would bite their lips and giggle when you told a joke and how they would bat their eyelashes and tease you and play with your hair just a little too much for it to be considered strictly friendly. Hayato knew he wasn’t the only person looking to add you to his dating pool and he also knew he wasn’t the best candidate to win your heart. It was a subject that often haunted his brain late at night, a miasma of doubt and self-hatred that cut deep into his heart when no one was there to see him cry. He was too loud, too violent, and too crude for someone like you to fall for. Too dangerous. It didn’t help that Yamamoto was the polar opposite of him– warm, friendly, and kind enough to be anyone’s dream man. And it definitely didn’t help that Yamamoto often wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you into his chest when there was nothing else for him to do with his hands. That happened often and made Gokudera more broken hearted than he would ever admit. [Baseball Freak] so? r u gonna say anything to them???? Gokudera had his heart set on you but his brain told him, quite logically, that you would never like someone like him back. Whoever said that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all was a damn fool. [Me] mind ur business. Up above, there was a sigh loud enough for Gokudera to hear and he knew instantly that he had made the wrong move. He looked up just in time to hear Yamamoto call your name in a sing-songy voice, to see him through weak, orange sun rays, waving cheerfully at you. Gokudera snapped his gaze to you to see your hair bounce with each cute head turn as you looked for the source of the voice. Yamamoto called your name again and Gokudera registered that not only had he used your first name but he added a “-chan” to the end of it– what a double-crossing bastard! You found him and Hayato’s lungs felt tight, but not as a result of his chain-smoking. Your face lit up–your pretty, beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous face– and you yelled back a greeting and swung your arms around wildly back at Takeshi, heels lifting off the ground in delight with your ministrations. Hayato’s gaze flickered back up to Takeshi just in time to see the brunet pointing down at him vigorously. Your sight followed Takeshi’s direction and you locked gazes with Hayato. His breath caught somewhere between his throat and chest and his heart pounded against his ribcage, furiously trying to escape this terribly humiliating situation. Just let me know As soon as you saw him, your eyes widened slightly and you gave him an embarrassed, genuine smile as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It was strange; he didn’t think that you had anything to be embarrassed about. You were deathly adorable when excited, even if it was because you were excited to see that baseball idiot. He hoped to whatever higher being that was out there– and he knew something was out there: aliens, at least– that he hadn’t imagined that sweet, pink blush that dusted your cheeks and ears and ran down your neck. He was smiling back at you, equally as shyly, before he knew it. Well, it’s been a long time Since you’ve been lonely So what will I do? You are the right one And I’m just a boy who Is looking at you “Hey, Hayato?” you called. His spine straightened, vertebra by vertebra, at the sound of your voice. You had used his first name– sure, you had been doing it for a while, but still every time you called him so endearingly, it sent hot, smoky electricity up his spine. The way the bed sheets creased under your small body and lazy afternoon sunlight dappled your visage had his head reeling. There you were, lounging and at peace with the world, in his apartment, in his bed. “What?” He didn’t mean to sound so brusque– but then again, he doesn’t mean many of the things he says with his angry disposition. Especially to you. “Why do you turn down everyone that confesses to you? Don’t you want to… well… I don’t know, fool around with someone? I mean, we’re in highschool, this is supposed to be the most reckless time of our lives, right? Why not live a little?” Your head tilted to the side, hair falling into your eyes. His fingers itched to brush it out of your face and your own fingers played with something on your phone. Probably texting, some faceless guy or girl, flirting, playing coy and– “Hayato?” He shivered, loving how his name sounded on your soft lips. “I don’t know, idiot. I’m mean, but not mean enough to do something like that to some kid stupid enough to think they like me.” He settles for brushing his own hair out of his face. You turn over on your stomach, “I guess…” Something about your tone when you say that makes Gokudera narrow his eyes in suspicion. Did something happen to you to make you upset? Why were you bringing up this topic now? Why were you bringing it up to him? “I just think it’s a waste, y’know?” you ran a hand through your hair and locked your phone, placing it to the side. Your eyes slid closed and Hayato realized how close your head was to his lap, how easily he could pet your hair and have you doze off in his embrace. You looked sleepy enough anyway– would a little nap hurt the both of you? “Hayato, don’t you know how handsome you are?” you mumbled dreamily. “You could get anyone you want, anyone, and you chose to sit here and do nothing. Why?” Hayato couldn’t think. His head was full of steel wool and his blood thrummed loudly through him. You called him handsome. You called him handsome. When his breath came back to him in a barely noticeable gasp, he couldn’t filter the words that tumbled out of his mouth. “I can’t.” “What?” your eyes slowly opened and you leaned up on an elbow, looking quizzically up at him. “I can’t get anyone I want.” “Why not?” His lungs filled shallowly and he turned his face away from you, focusing on the empty street below, through his room’s window. The sun cast golden light and deep, lavender shadows across the world and Hayato knew that if he looked at you right now, everything would go to shit. He’d see your face; all the perfections and beautiful flaws and you would see through him as if he were glass blown, see how desperate he was for you and how his insides were twisting and trembling in fear and reverence, in equal measure, of your power over him. You would recoil, disgust drawn over your lovely face in terribly sharp lines and you would see how his heart would break over and over again. “Sometimes you just can’t.” Your lips curled into a frown and his brows furrowed; he could tell that much by your silence. Unsatisfied with his answer, you huffed and threw yourself back down on the bed, the crown of your head knocking against his thigh. Your hair splayed out around your face, angelic, and Hayato was lucky that your eyes had once again shut to accept the call of the dream world, because if they hadn’t, you would’ve seen how absolutely helpless he looked, gazing at you. So what will I do? His tongue darted out to smooth over his dry lower lip and he felt the faint sting of the thin skin there– cracked. He tasted iron and swallowed thickly. Gokudera wished he was closer to you, so much closer to you than he was, but he was doubtful his heart would be able to handle that. Your breathing started to slow and Hayato found his hand smoothing over your soft hair and you jolted violently, startling the both of you. You stared up at him, eyes full of stars and planets far away, and he laughed airily. He shook his head, silently telling you, No, don’t wake up just yet, everything’s fine. You accepted this without question and closed your eyes again. This time, Hayato gently slid his hands under your head and guided you towards his lap. He arranged himself comfortably on an array of flattened pillows and stroked your hair as you lay, safe and happy in his lap. A single eye peeked at him– slyly, cat-like– before you hummed and shifted closer to him. A contented sigh slipped through Hayato’s lips and he himself started to feel drowsy. In his dreamy stupor, his hand trailed down your face, down your neck, and down, down your arm until he had your fingers gently entwined with his. Sure, it may have just been an unconscious reaction, but the way your hand squeezed his back made his dreams lovely and surreal and hallucinatory, in all the best ways. I tried the wrong way I was guessing Biding my time You are the only One I can picture By my side “Gokudera, what’s up?” Takeshi nodded at the silver-haired bomber as he approached, strangely insightful today with his clear, milk chocolate eyes. The boy in question merely grumbled vaguely, hands shoved deep in his pockets, as if he was fishing for the answer to Yamamoto’s question down there as well. “That bad, huh?” Gokudera rolled his eyes. It wasn’t rare for him and Yamamoto to arrive at Tsuna’s house before the young mafia boss could flee from it, already anxious and sweaty. Today was no different. “Hey, at least you tried, right?” Yamamoto offered a weak smile, knowing how much you meant to Gokudera. His shoulders were hiked up to his ears and Takeshi didn't miss how the hot, red ring on Gokudera’s cigarette quickly crawled down to the filter before he was tapping out another from his near-empty box and sucking on the new cigarette, lighting it with the dying butt of the used one. He tossed the old one down and ground it into the asphalt. Takeshi frowned. The baseball star shifted the bag on his shoulder uncomfortably, his bats for after school practice clinking metallically. “ … I didn't.” Gokudera kept his gaze locked on a lamp post down the block. Takeshi blinked, not expecting a response from Gokudera’s sunken frame. “What?” “I didn't try.” It took Takeshi a moment to understand what Gokudera meant before grimacing with a little more than a dash of friendly pity in his eyes. He shifted his weight from his hip, seeking to comfort Gokudera, but decided against it at the last moment. “Why?” his voice came out in a gentle rasp. Gokudera still refused to look at him, green eyes clouded and trained on a particularly colorful poster on that singular lamp post. Seconds ticked by before Hayato groaned and dragged a hand down his face, pinching his cigarette in frustration with his other hand. “I can’t! I just can’t. I know they don’t feel the same and I know I’ll break if they have to say it to my face. I can’t handle that. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to handle that. God, Yamamoto, I just can’t take that chance.” Being around them is– it’s just too much and too little for me to take– I’m going crazy here, driving myself in circles and spinning out, spinning my goddamn wheels because of them. It’s fuckin’ sickening but I don’t want a cure. I feel so helpless and I hate it, I never want to feel this way again. What the hell did I do to deserve this?” Gokudera’s eyes snapped shut, face contorted in agony. “I can’t tell them. I can’t. I want them to be happy. It’s better this way anyway. I’m not good enough.” Gokudera’s voice cracked on his last word before his declaration faded into the morning’s stillness. Yamamoto was insulted– his best friend talking about himself this way? Not in a million years, if he had any say in it– but Gokudera snapped at him before he could get a word in. “And don’t say shit about me being good enough, because we both know I’m not good enough for them. I’ll never be good enough, Yamamoto, that’s not me. I wouldn’t be able to hold them as much as I should, to kiss their gorgeous fucking face– I wouldn’t be able to be fucking honest, Takeshi. They deserve more than the bullshit excuses I’d spew to cover our fucking asses when we get the crap kicked out of us on a bi-weekly basis. They don’t deserve that.” Silence weighed like velvet over the two of them and the sun was now calling out songbirds, sleepy murmurs from the neighborhood beginning to wake from the heavy slumber of the night. Yamamoto didn’t know what to say anymore and Gokudera put the cigarette back where it belonged: between his lips, funneling poison straight to his lungs. “ … I don’t think it’s like that, Hayato. You’re being too harsh on yourself. I really don’t think they feel that way about you.” Hayato said nothing and kept his eyes glued to that single poster again. Yamamoto reached out and awkwardly patted his shoulder, mustering as much comfort as he could before he knew he would overstay his welcome. Hayato needed time to clear his head. “ … I’ll go inside to check up on Tsuna. Come inside soon, alright?” The response that didn’t meet him was enough to know Gokudera wouldn’t get better as quick as that. Takeshi sighed in sorrowful compassion before slowly making his way to Tsuna’s front door, carefully piecing together his cheerful mask yet again. The door shut quietly, and voices and vague, worrisome sounds came from within. Gokudera raised his hand to scrub furiously at his misty eyes, his bracelets clinking together and rings scraping his face and leaving thin, red lines around his eyes. He leaned back against the wall around his best friend’s house and his head banged against the concrete, painful and painfully familiar to something that had happened recently, involving you. “Fuck,” he hissed into the empty street. Class was boring, as it always was. There was nothing that could entertain him that was in Namimori’s curriculum. Tsuna managed to convince Gokudera to take college classes too, so that his development wouldn’t stall (and also because Gokudera being bored meant a bit more trouble for Tsuna, but he was genuinely concerned about Gokudera’s personal growth). But even those classes were much too easy for him. Something that wasn’t easy? Seeing you every damn day and not being able to do a thing about it. Getting closer, getting further, cutting you off completely– he couldn’t bring himself to do any of those. Gokudera tapped the eraser end of his pencil against his desk and sighed, staring out the classroom window into the clear blue sky. He couldn’t wait for summer again but, boy, did he like seeing you all bundled up in wool and cashmere and simply drowning in soft fabrics and cozy patterns. You were so cute with your nose red from the cold, lips burning pink from being bitten so much– he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, no, he would take this to his grave– but what he wouldn’t give to be the one to bite your lips instead, to hear you whimper and moan, just for him, and– A small collision with the side of his head brought him out of his daydreams. Curious and annoyed, Hayato brought a hand up to his hair and picked out a crumpled wad of paper. Who the hell had the balls to throw shit at him? He was still the scariest guy in Namimori (and no, Hibari doesn’t count, either). If anything, he should be terrorizing the rest of the class. Taking a less than subtle glance around the room, he caught your eyes staring at him eagerly. Taking a moment to compose himself, he averted his gaze to your note instead. Of course it was you that threw it at him. Who else? Wanna go to a bakery after school? Kyoko-chan was talking about it earlier and I can’t get it out of my head… I’ll pay if u want!! I want cake~~~ Hayato didn’t hold back the happy grin that spread over his face, sparing a glance at you, impatiently waiting for his reply, before scribbling something in his mostly neat penmanship under your barely legible chicken scratch. No need to pay. But yeah, that sounds p cool. Meet me right after school at the front gates? The teacher still had his back turned to the class, writing something that Gokudera already knew on the blackboard, droning on and on about logs and bases and inverses and irrational numbers or something equally useless. He knocked his hand back and threw from the shoulder, the small, now neatly folded note landing in the middle of your desk. You snatched it up quickly, hiding it just in time for the teacher to turn around and call on one of your classmates to answer a question. Gokudera couldn’t see you unfold the note but your arms were moving under the desk and you grabbed a pencil off the desk too. Gokudera remembered that pencil; it was thin, cute, and pink– with a brown bear on top. The bear held a red heart and its nose was in the same cute shape. There were patterns of hearts and stars in red and yellow and white, and Gokudera knew all of this because Kyoko had helped him pick it out to give it to you for your birthday. He thought giving you a gift with so many hearts was a bit forward– tactless, even– but Kyoko gave him a stern look and told him that nothing he could do would be forward enough when it came to you and, spluttering and flushed, he tried to deny his affections for you but only ended up confessing how he felt about you to Kyoko. Smiling gently like the angel she is, Kyoko let him talk her ear off about you for nearly an hour and a half. She earned a milkshake and a slice of strawberry cake for her bravery. You spun in your chair, clutching the edge of it in your small hand, and flicked the paper back to him. The message was a little more timid, he noticed. actually, can we meet on the roof after school?.. I have something I want to talk to u about, but it shouldn’t take long… We can go straight to the bakery if u don’t want to, tho!!!!! ^v^;; Gokudera recognized how you were trying to hide something from him with your overwhelming facade of consideration. Whenever you felt insecure about something, you always spent time making sure other people felt more comfortable and happy than you were, as if that would make you feel better yourself. A frown carried over his pale face and when he looked up, you were staring at him again. This time, you seemed to have carefully examined his face and your brows were furrowed. As soon as you met his eyes, you jumped, shaking your head and waving your hands to tell him, Don’t mind me, it’s nothing. Gokudera was just about to pen down a reply when the teacher turned around again and began talking to the class, not looking like he was going to turn his back on Gokudera any time soon. Hayato caught your eyes with his green ones and nodded quickly, mouthing ‘I’ll be there.’ Lunch was as it normally was. That is, filled with shouts and explosions and general chaos. However, this lunch period was noisier than it previously had been; a fact that only would have been noticed by the people present if they paid very careful attention to their volume. Gokudera noticed. Damn right, he noticed. Sure, you usually sat next to Takeshi. Sure, you had a habit of clinging to him as you laughed and whispering in his ear. And sure, sometimes you would call him Take-chan as you fed him bits of your own bentou– a fact that pissed Gokudera off endlessly. But what was different? Today you were nestled in Yamamoto’s side, tucked neatly away under his arm which alternated from wrapping around your shoulders to hold you to him and pulling you in by your waist to bring you nearly onto his lap. It stung Gokudera something awful. Watching the two of you laugh and whisper to each other felt like you had run Hayato’s heart over shrapnel and soothed his wounds with lemon and salt. He averted his jealous, but startlingly gentle gaze from you to the sky above you, willing tears not to come and cursing himself for feeling this way about you. “Hey, Take-chan!” You tugged on his shirt, the fabric over his chest, to bring his attention back to you. “Hmm?” You stole a glance at Gokudera and whispered giddily into Yamamoto’s ear. When you’re finished, Yamamoto made a sound that can only be described as pure elation, and he tugged you in even closer, tickling you in the process. You laughed and shrieked at him to stop and he only did so when you’re nearly in tears. Tsuna is having a muted conversation with Gokudera and he is trying to pay attention– honest– Gokudera is trying so goddamn hard, but it’s next to impossible when a grass-green snake hisses low in his belly over you writhing and laughing so happily in Takeshi’s lap. Yamamoto whispered hotly back into your ear and Gokudera sees something he wished he would never see from the two of you: you, with a hot blush crawling up your neck and Takeshi with his face practically in the crook of it, grinning all pearly white and eyes staring at you with such fucking dedicated tunnel vision. Gokudera wasn’t hungry anymore. Lunch ended and you gave Yamamoto one last quick hug before cleaning up your trash and putting everything away that you wanted to keep. Gokudera was slower than normal, taking all the time in the world and then some to get ready for class again. The door to the roof clanged shut and Gokudera let out a heavy sigh, eyes closed and trying to feel everything that he could– everything except his feelings, that is. He relished the cool breath of wind that blew against his face, tossing his hair around and whistling softly to him. He took account of the ground beneath him, hard and sturdy, and the sounds of teenagers filtering back into the school, complaining about their classes and each other. The one thing he didn’t hear–not until it was too late– was you. “Hayato?” you tugged on the back of his shirt, scaring him witless. He yelped like a kicked puppy and spun around to face you, composure long lost. He tried to say something but nothing left his lips; nothing coherent, at least. The hand that grasped his shirt didn’t cease touching him. It got even closer than before as you took a step, and then another, into his personal space. The height difference between you was just too much for him to handle and Gokudera felt himself simultaneously trying to pale and flush, unsure which won over in the end. Your hand slid along his waist, his side, and up his chest lightly. The smile that took root on your face was weak and bashful, even– and you bumped your forehead on his chest before you looked back up at him, an emotion he didn’t recognize dancing in your eyes. “Don’t forget, we’re meeting here after school, Hayato. You wouldn’t want to keep me waiting, would you?” Your finger tapped his chest teasingly, adding another beat to his pulse and he felt fire crawl up the base of spine at your nail scraping through his shirt. You blinked curiously up at him and his voice whispered to you, hoarse and against his will, “No, I wouldn’t.” Satisfied with that, you made sure that he had everything he had brought up to the roof with him, promptly forced him to offer his elbow to you, and curled yourself happily over his arm before leading the both of you down the stairs to finish the rest of the day’s lessons. The roof was empty except for Gokudera. As soon as school was over, he bid Tsuna and Yamamoto goodbye, telling them not to wait up for him. Yamamoto had a big, stupid grin on his face– But when does he not? Gokudera rationalized. There was something about that smile that showed that he knew more than he let on but Gokudera was much too preoccupied with thoughts of you to care. He leaned against the rails, not trusting it to hold him, careful not to put too much weight on it. He took a steadying breath. Breathe. It’s fine. Nothing’s wrong. But no matter what he told himself to stop the rapid, staccato drumming in his chest, his anxieties were not relieved in the slightest. He was afraid– god, how he was afraid. What did you want to talk to him about? Did you not want to be friends anymore? Did you grow tired of him? Did… Did you want to tell him you were dating Takeshi? “Hayato?” oh fuck Gokudera jumped. The amount of times you scared him witless was embarrassingly high. “Hey.” You smiled slightly. “Hey.” Something about you was different. Something was… off. The way your eyes drifted from him every other second before coming back to his concerned gaze was unusual, but even more unusual was the way your hands fidgeted behind your back. “So,” Hayato tried to get the words to come out. The light breeze that tossed your hair around your face in a halo didn’t help much, but he appreciated it anyway. “What’d you wanna talk about? I’m hungry as fuck.” It slipped out– Hayato’s cursing habit hijacked his mouth, nerves making him go on autopilot. At least you took it well; your eyes glinted in amusement and some of the tension between the two of you dissipated. A pink tongue darted out to soothe your dry lips and Hayato was a little too aware of it. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while, but I just didn’t know how to tell you– it’s a bit… embarrassing, so don’t make fun of me, okay?” Your mouth was set in a firm line, eyes pleading and vulnerable. “Sure.” That wasn’t the reply you wanted but it was what it was. By my side “I…” you began, then lost the words you had planned. “You?..” Gokudera offered. He wasn’t sure he was ready for what you wanted to tell him or what it entailed, but he was sure that if it meant your happiness, he would do anything at all to keep you smiling. “It’s just that… You know, I–” you fumble over your words, frustration visible on your face. Gokudera scolded himself for thinking of you in this way when you so clearly don’t want him but he can’t help it. He’s worried over your affect on him before, but he never considered how weak he is to you or how strong your natural beauty is under the glow of a late afternoon and the crinkle of your brow with your courageous efforts… courageous efforts that you try to spell out but they fail, perched above your tongue. Your soft hands come down in frustration upon the hem of your shirt and you try again, slip again, and Gokudera is privy to the realization that this isn’t something he should take lightly any longer, no matter how much it calms his nerves or keeps him from facing the possible reality of him losing you. He leans forward to grasp your hands from distressing your shirt, to keep you from distressing yourself, with full knowledge that this moment could be the end of you allowing him to be graced with your presence. Hayato decided that your momentary comfort before unleashing hell on him was worth more than a thousand lifetimes of you by his side in the masquerade mask of lukewarm passion if you backed down from rejecting him now. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” And he touched you and nearly recoiled when your face whipped up to meet his, nearly let go of you because your skin was hot as forged iron and nearly as red. He tried to let go but you wouldn’t stand for it, as you used his hands over your shoulders as leverage to place your palms, clammy and shaking, over his smooth cheekbones and bring his face down to yours. Hayato’s eyes were wide as he met your lips, glossed and smooth and clearly prepped for this specific moment, specific kiss, specifically with him and he could have withered away in embarrassment of his rough mouth and nicotine lungs if it weren’t for how warm you were against him and how securely you held him, despite how insecure you had been seconds prior. Gokudera barely has the brains left to close his eyes on the skyline of Namimori but when he does he sees stars and he kisses you back and there’s a scrape of his teeth against your bottom lip and you shiver and he groans into you and now he’s just as red, if not redder, than you are. A slick noise of separation, then the both of you don’t know how to deal with the awkward intimacy of it, or what to do with your hands, but Hayato managed to gather enough sense– or maybe he’s running on what he’s fantasized on doing after your first kiss together and is on a daydream-guided autopilot– and he brings you into a tight hug and buried his head into your wild hair. You laugh into his chest and when he tried to bring you out to ask you why, you clung to his wrinkled white shirt even more and blindly found his hands, tangled with his bracelets and rings, then laced your fingers soundly with his. Gokudera can hardly believe the kiss happened, can believe he’s still alive even less, but he’s sure you can hear the quickened palpitations of his heart and that notion does no good for his health either. You’re an absolute dream and Gokudera is ready and happy to die right there, but you pull away from him, hands still interwoven, and smile so beautifully that he is sure that angels exist and you’re the vision of seraphim, disguised as human so barely that if you were anymore angelic he would surely fall dead where he stood, kiss-dizzy and sweetly dazed. From his dazed mouth, stupidity falls out. “So what was it that you had to tell me?” You laugh and press a kiss– more confidently this time– to his collarbone. At his affirmative, stuttered, elated hum, you press another and another, up his neck and jawline and chin until you reach his lips again and he kisses you back with adoration and love and his still evolving understanding of your feelings for him. “I’m not sure how to say it any clearer,” you said with a laugh that rang like the church bells that sounded in Gokudera’s head as clearly as he imaged they would on your wedding day, as he pressed his own kisses all over your face and held you close with the intention of treasuring you as long as he had a pulse and then some. “Hayato, I really, really like you.” And that was the day that Gokudera Hayato had come to face the reality, one that he had long accepted, that he loved you more than anything and you felt the same, but most importantly, that you were the right one for him. And that he was the right one for you.

[vinylackles]

remembrance

word count: 3.5k (this got out of hand lmao)

summary: I just rewatched 12.02 (mamma mia) and it made me wanna cry, so here is some angsty sam smut, but like... sad angsty. it includes comfort as well, never fear, and a happy ending!

warnings: mentions of ptsd symptoms, mentions of sam’s torture with toni/being taken advantage of sexually by her, smut

all my works || request imagines here

You were surprised there was anywhere cool left in the bed, but when you rolled off of Sam, the sheets were cold against your flushed skin. You’d sworn you must have covered the whole bed during that last round, between switching positions and rolling around. You curled back up against Sam and all his warmth (the man really was like a space heater), coming down from your high.

“That was... intense,” you chuckled, trying to catch your breath.

“Too much? Did I hurt you?” Sam’s voice was suddenly anxious, and he ran a hand over your bare hip, soothing the places where he had held onto you. They would probably be a bit sore tomorrow, maybe a few bruises from his fingertips.

“Of course not.” You brought a hand up to guide his face to yours. He kissed you softly, slow and languid, his fingers moving to your hand and toying with the engagement ring he’d put there almost a year ago now.

“I have an idea,” you smiled against his lips.

He moved back a fraction so he could look at you. “Round two already? I might need a few more minutes.” You could tell he was still soft underneath the sheets and you offered him a reassuring kiss.

“Not yet. Wait here. And recover I guess,” you teased him, pecking his lips one more time. He kept his hand on your skin, moving with you until you stepped just out of reach of his fingertips. You slid your panties back on, grabbing Sam’s discarded flannel off the floor and buttoning it just enough to cover anything that Dean would never let you live down. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet - he was out taking Jack to a movie - but you weren’t about to take the chance.

Your bare feet were almost silent on the bunker’s floor as you moved through the halls, ducking into the old storage room that was stacked full of archives. You moved to the far corner, moving to the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet marked “ancient vampire blood tests revisited in 1890 to look for chromosomal changes” in Sam’s scrawl. You smiled at the memory of you and Sam sitting on the floor, trying to come up with something that was so boring that Dean wouldn’t dare go near it. The drawer slid open with a creak, revealing your stash of wine. 

Dean always called it ‘kids juice’, but you knew he’d steal it if he had the chance, so you and Sam kept it hidden away from the rest of the drinks. You tried to get some from many different places you went on hunts, so you didn’t love the idea of the older Winchester knocking out a bottle just for a buzz. You picked out a sweet marcello you’d gotten from an orchard out in Kentucky, and you swung by the kitchen to get the glasses and corkscrew. 

Your legs felt a bit like jello as you walked. You wiggled a bit, trying to get them to return to normal. Secretly, you quite enjoyed the feeling. Sex with Sam was rough sex. It hadn’t always been that way, but for the past few months it was like he was chasing his orgasm and yours as fast as he could. You weren’t complaining. It was glorious, there was no denying that, but you sometimes missed the sweeter times, where he’d hold you against him and press kisses to your lips. Murmured “I love you”s and “you’re my everything”s. You hoped that maybe your plan would bring some of that back tonight as you poured two hefty glasses of wine.

You made your way slowly to the room you and Sam shared, nudging it open with your hip and stepping inside. He was relaxed and stretched out over the bed, his tanned torso long and lean. Your mouth practically watered at the sight. But when he saw you, he jumped a bit, like a reflex.

“You okay?” You asked with a grin. “Didn’t mean to spook you, just thought this might keep the energy going.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, good idea.” He put on a smile, but it didn’t quite make it to his eyes. You’d seen that face before. It meant he wasn’t really okay. You didn’t push it, but you didn’t dive right back in either. You kept the flannel on, passing him his glass. He took a small sip, but he didn’t seem to enjoy it. Something was off - you’d known him long enough to be able to see it, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. 

“Hey. We don’t have to go again. I’m fine if you are,” you said, your arousal fading quickly. You reached out to move some of his hair out of his face and there was a tiny bit of a flinch when you made contact. 

“Yeah, I just don’t know if I have it in me tonight. I’m sorry baby, I love you.” He put on a better show that time, and it put you mostly at ease. He sold it by leaning forward and kissing you sweetly. 

“I love you too. Don’t be sorry love,” you reassured him, giving him another kiss and putting your wine down on the nightstand. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up, I’ll be right back.” 

Sam nodded, watching you head to the bathroom to get yourself sorted out. It only took a few moments, but when you came back, you felt your heart tighten in your chest. 

Sam was on the bed where you’d left him, but he’d put his boxers back on and pulled his knees up to his chest. He had his eyes squeezed shut and she could just barely hear him murmuring “you’re fine sam, you’re fine” to himself over the sound of the oxygen in the vents.

“Baby?” You said softly, moving to the bed. You knew he didn’t like to be touched unless he asked, so you sat down next to him, careful to give him space while still letting him know that you were there.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry,” he groaned, and you could hear the tears in his throat. To your relief, he reached a hand out for you. You took it immediately, squeezing it tight and trying to center him. He pulled at you, encouraging you to move forward. You obliged, taking him in your arms and holding him tightly, trying to protect him from whatever was bothering him. His arms wove around your torso, holding you to him.

“Shhh, shhh shh shh you’re safe Sam, I’m right here. I’ve got you,” you reassured him, pressing kisses to his hair that seemed to settle him as he clung to you. It was a few moments before he composed himself enough to pull back and control his breathing.

“Talk to me baby, what’s wrong?” You cooed, running a hand through his hair. He just shook his head, some of the strands shaking loose and back down to cover his eyes.

“I can’t,” he whispered, ashamed.

“Whatever it is, I’m not gonna love you any less,” you tried one last encouragement, deciding that after that you would stop pushing. To your relief, he looked down at your hands, toying with your ring as he began to speak.

“Do you remember when Toni, from the British Men of Letters... when she captured me?”

“Of course. She tortured you.” You tried to keep your voice light. If Ketch hadn’t already killed her, you would have. 

“Yeah. She cut me up, burned my foot and all that. But she also did... other things. Other things I didn’t tell you, or anybody about.” 

“The mind stuff?” You were getting a bit nervous now. He spun your ring around on your finger a few times, watching the diamond catch the little bit of light from the lamp.

“Yeah. She wanted me to answer questions about the hunters. She used me. Um... sexually, to get what she wanted. She took advantage of me, I guess is the term.” 

The rage that filled you was immeasurable. You wanted her alive, so that you could give her the most painful and slow death imaginable. 

“Sam,” you murmured, putting a hand to his cheek, trying to find the right words. You weren’t sure they existed.

“And there’s certain times when were together like that, where it kind of reminds me of her. If I close my eyes, it’s like I’m back there. It was slow, and drawn out. And I’m scared to try that again, because I don’t want to relive it anymore than I already do.” His cheek was hot under your hand, and you knew he was full of unnecessary shame.

“I love you Sam, no matter what, okay? You just tell me what you need, and we’ll figure it out together okay?”

He looked up then, finally meeting your eyes.

“You aren’t mad?” It broke your heart that that was what he expected. It’s what had happened to him his whole life when he showed weakness, so you weren’t surprised.

“Why would I be mad?” 

“Because you’re my fiancé, and I just told you that I struggle through sex with you because I’m thinking about another women.” He looked up at you incredulously. 

“Baby, it’s not like you’re fantasizing about another woman. You were tortured and taken advantage of, and there are repercussions from that. Of course I’m not mad, and I’m sorry if I made it worse without realizing.”

He pulled you to him again, burying his face in your neck.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered against your skin. He’d said it before, and even though you disagreed you knew there was nothing you could say to change his mind. So you held him instead, hoping that somehow the pressure of you against him would settle his mind.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, please tell me. I wanna help you if I can.”

“I just don’t want her to take that away from me, from us. I should be able to have sex with you, normal, slow sex without any problems. It isn’t fair to either of us,” he said, his breath warm against your skin as he hid in your hair. An idea popped through your head. It would be worth a shot.

“I have an idea, if you’re up for it. But you have to promise me that if it’s too much that you’ll tell me. Promise?” 

“Promise,” he nodded, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before he rose back up where you could see him. 

“Drink your wine, it’ll help,” you whispered, kissing his forehead as you stood up and began to rummage through his drawers. He listened, downing his glass quickly, trying not to think about the wine he’d shared with Toni. It wasn’t real, he knew that, but god it felt real, even now. 

He was so lost in his thoughts he barely noticed Y/N getting undressed, and redressed in front of him. 

“What’re you doing?” He asked quietly when he finally came to. 

You spun around dramatically, putting your outfit on display. It was an old ragged long sleeve Stanford sweatshirt that was practically a dress on you. It had a few holes in it, the sleeves coming down to cover your hands. It was the least sexy thing you probably could have found, but you knew it would do the trick.

“Do you remember this shirt?” You asked, crawling up the bed. Sam moved to meet you, centering himself in the bed. You climbed onto his lap, letting all of your weight sit on him, to anchor him down. He looked down at you with a smile.

“Of course I do. First shirt of mine you ever wore.” He’d never forget the way you looked in it, he was sure. You brought your hands up, letting the too-big sleeves slide back to reveal them.

“And why did I need it?” You said, tracing your hands over his shoulders, down his arms to his biceps, kneading at the muscles.

“Because you got locked out of your room. It was the first night you stayed with me instead of sleeping on your own.”

“And we paid for empty rooms for a month so Dean wouldn’t find out,” you grinned at the memories of sneaking into his room in the middle of the night, and Sam carrying your half-asleep form back out in the morning into your own room down the hall just so he didn’t have to tell his brother about the two of you.

“Can I tell you a secret? Something I’ve never told you?” You whispered, running your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. He waited expectantly, eyes bright as he watched you. There wasn’t a trace of fear in them at the moment, and it made you smile.

“I had my key the whole time. I just wanted an excuse to get in your bed, and your pants. I’m not the best at making moves.”

“Are you serious? 7 years together and you never told me?” He was bewildered, his mouth hanging open just a bit in the cutest way. 

“Yes indeed. But hey, that sex was so worth lying to you,” you grinned. It was quite sudden when his hands came to cup your face. They were so large and held it so easily, cradled it so gently as he pressed his lips to yours. He knew his was around by now, and you could anticipate almost every move. It was as fluid as water, even while you smiled and giggled in between.

Ever so subtly you began to rock your hips, grinding down against him gently as you tried to get him worked up again. One hand dropped from your face to your hip, squeezing there. You paused for a moment, breaking the kiss but staying right there.

“You okay?” You asked. He nodded, his hair tickling your cheeks. 

“Yeah baby, keep goin’.” He urged you on, occasionally putting a bit of pressure on your hip to hold you down harder against him. You took it as a good sign, especially as you felt the familiarity of him hardening beneath you. You kissed him again before pulling back, giving him a look you know he’d recognize. 

“You don’t have to,” he said breathlessly, but you knew he wouldn’t mind.

“I want to. Can I?” You asked again, waiting.

“As if I could ever tell you no,” he smiled, taking your hand in his and squeezing it as you got off his lap, moving yourself down the bed. You ran a hand down his abs, feeling him shudder underneath your touch as you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs. He was half hard, heavy against his tummy as you took him in your hand, stroking a few times. 

You worked him up a bit more, happy to see him getting back into the mood.

“You remember the first time we did this?” You looked up at him through your lashes, offering a grin and you hovered over him, giving his dick a few kitten licks for good measure.

“‘Course I do, how could I forget?” He brought a hand down, tracing his fingers over your shoulder and arm where he could reach. 

“Tell me,” you said, taking him in your mouth.

“It was in the impala. Dean hadn’t slept well in - oh god - in a few nights and we were getting - jesus - frustrated. He was doing r-r-research in the library and you said - oh shit baby right there - I had to stay in the car with you.” He struggled through it as you took more and more of him in your mouth, working him over like only you could. You knew all his spots, everything that made his hips buck underneath you. 

“Mhmmm,” you hummed, making your whole mouth vibrate. He threw his head to the side, gasping at the sensation. 

“Jesus, Y/N. I swear, you were just as good back then too. C’mere.” The beckoning was half hearted, but you knew that’s all he could muster since he was already so hard. 

Climbing on his lap was a bit harder now, but you settled with his dick in between the two of you, standing at attention. His eyes were a bit hazy from everything you’d done so far, and you grinned. He was taking a few deep breaths, the ones that he used to compose himself, and you knew the next part was going to be the hardest for him.

“You’re doing so good baby. I’m proud of you,” you whispered in his ear, pulling him close to you. It was almost against your will when you started grinding again, your own heat looking for any friction it could find. 

“Look how far we’ve come Sam. From sneaking around motel rooms and backseats, all the way to this bunker. You and me, husband and wife. You’re gonna be my husband,” you grinned at the word, kissing him hard. “Nothing can take that away. Nobody. Nobody.” 

He nodded, reaching down between the two of you. His fingers found your folds and you jerked a bit, but he was only gathering a bit of wetness to put on himself. He brought his hands back up, hooking them under your arms and lifting you slightly with ease, positioning you just right.

The stretch was sweet this time as you slid down onto him. You’d already gone one round tonight, and round two was always your favorite because you were already ready for him. As you began to rock back and forth he groaned, eyes squeezing shut. He wasn’t touching you anymore - his hands were behind himself, holding him up. 

“Sam. Baby look at me. Open your eyes,” you cooed, swiveling your hips a bit and trying not to lose your balance. When he opened them, you swore you could have swam in the pools of hazel as they watched you. It seemed to settle him.

“It’s just me baby. It’s always gonna be me. You’re safe.” 

He nodded at your words, leaning up to kiss you. His hands still hovered over your skin, as if he was scared to lay them on you.

“You know my body better than anyone’s. It’s okay. It’s yours. It’s all yours. It’s me, not her,” you said, slowing your work to an agonizing pace. 

When he touched you it was like electricity. He paused as he traced you from head to toe - down your arms, off your fingertips onto your hips, under the hoodie to go back up over your ribs, down to your knees, squeezing your thighs on the way. You didn’t know it, but he was finding every part of you that made you you. The soft flesh of the scar on your knee that you got biking as a kid. The stretch marks on your hips, the way one boob was just barely heavier than the other. The way your ring felt on your finger, nestled just right on your left hand. 

It seemed almost silly now that he’d been scared to do this for so long. You were so far above Toni that there was really no comparison at all. 

“Always gonna be you,” he whispered, so low that even you didn’t hear it. And in one swift movement you were on your back and he was hovering over you, picking up the work right where you’d left off. He worked you over, leaving kisses and marks along your neck and collarbone where the hoodie left exposed, his thrusts slow and aimed to hit you right where you wanted him to every damn time.

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you,” he said over and over, pulling you up into his arms right before you came.

He held you tight  as you released, supporting you as your muscles went slack. He wasn’t far behind you, his grunts muffled by skin and fabric as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and came. 

He held you there for a while, only moving to lift you up and off of him gently, returning you into the circle of his arms seamlessly.

You heard him take a breath in, and you stopped him before he could speak.

“Don’t thank me, it’s my job. You did so good,” you praised him again, leaning back so you could see him. 

“I love you. Can’t wait for you to be my wife.” His words melted your heart and you grinned, kissing him again.

“Let’s just elope. Let’s go get married tomorrow. Lebanon’s city hall is nice enough, this hoodie is basically a dress. We’re all set.”

He laughed at that, brushing your hair back from your face. 

“We’re gonna have a perfect wedding baby girl, it’s only a few more months. Only a little longer until I add another ring to this pretty little finger. You and me, forever.” 

leave me feedback in exchange for my eternal love

[great-master-airplane]

If your still accepting the prompts 23 and 39 for Reaper76

I really wanted to write some fluff for these two because everything always comes out so angsty, so I hope this is okay! Thank you!

23. “Tell me what you did. Please, I can help if you just tell me.”

39. “It is so difficult to love you, but it is so worth it.”

Jack woke to the feel ofstrong arms and thighs wrapping around him. He sighed contentedly, the slide ofskin on skin sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Completely pinned by thewelcoming weight of heavy limbs, all he could do was settle closer, his nosetucked right under his partner’s chin.

For all intents andpurposes, it was Jack’s day off. He had a meeting to attend around ten, but therest of the day could be spent as he pleased. It had been so long since hislast day off, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to have time to himself.His plans were to go to the meeting, come back to his room, and spend the restof the day tangled up in bedsheets and his boyfriend.

And Jack—well, he needed this. Usually, his job as StrikeCommander didn’t bother him. He liked fighting to keep the peace they’d workedso hard to get, but it could all become a little… much after some time. He needed to recharge, just relax and let theease of laziness weigh him down until the job didn’t overwhelm him anymore.

And if he and Gabrielmanaged to have the same day off, then Jack got to recharge in more ways thanone.

Jack pressed a long, sweetkiss to Gabriel’s throat, still sated and heavy with sleep. He knew he shouldsee how much time he had until he needed to leave the comfort of their bed, buthe didn’t think he’d be able to move at all, with the way Gabe pinned him.Gabriel was already built like a tank, but asleep? He might as well be all deadweight.

Not that Jack minded much.He liked the way Gabriel felt, all heavy limbs and soft noises. Jack settleback in, ready to sleep until his alarm sounded.

“Jack,” Gabe murmuredquietly, almost tentatively. Jack stiffened at the sound; Gabe sounded afraidin a way that Jack hadn’t heard in a long time. He tried to sit up, get a goodlook at his face, but Gabriel held him down as easily as if Jack were a child.“Jack, I did something bad.”

“What is it?” When Gabesaid nothing, Jack kissed his neck again, trying to ease him. “Tell me what you did.”

“You’re not gonna be happyabout it,” Gabriel muttered, lifting his chin a bit to give Jack more space.Smiling a little, Jack took the bait, moving his mouth along the dark expanseof Gabriel’s throat until Gabe shivered.

“Please, I can help if you just tell me,” Jack continued to reason,finally able to lean his head back and see Gabe’s face. He saw guilt butnothing that might cause too much worry. He leaned up to kiss Gabe’s mouth,slide his tongue along Gabe’s lip until he opened up. Jack leaned against himfor leverage, chasing the stale taste of sleep on his tongue and pulling backwhen Gabriel pushed into him. “Please, Gabe. Tell me what you did.”

Gabe huffed, his headflopping back to land on the pillow. “Remember the meeting today? The onlything you have to do on your day off?”

“Yes?” Jack confirmedslowly, already having a bad feeling about this.

“Well, your alarm went offa few hours ago,” Gabe mumbled, quiet with shame.

Jack sat up a bit, eyeswidening slowly. “What?”

“Yeah.” Gabe reached ahand up to rub at the back of his neck. “You didn’t wake up, so I just turnedit off.”

“Gabriel! A few hoursago?!” Jack began to disentangle himself from the trap of blanket andboyfriend. He reached over for his phone to confirm that yes, his alarm hadgone off roughly three hours ago, and yes, Gabriel had just turned it off. “Why didn’t you wake meup?”

Gabriel didn’t give him ananswer, just stared up at their ceiling like it was the most interesting thinghe’d ever seen. With a groan of frustration, Jack stumbled out of the bed andbegan looking for his clothes. Those seemed to be missing, though, so he turnedan accusatory stare onto Gabriel again.

“Where’s my uniform?”

“You really think I wasworried about where I was throwing your uniform? I had other things on my mindlast night.” Gabriel’s dark eyes bore into his, a challenging eyebrow raised.As if asking, Why weren’t you paying attention? It’s your damn uniform,Jackie.

“I told you I needed itfor this morning.”

Scoffing, Gabe glared backup at the ceiling. “It’s your damn day off! You deserve a break every now andthen, too. Why are they making you go to some dumb as fuck meeting, anyway?They’ll probably just tell you all of the same shit they did at the lastmeeting.”

“I’m Strike Commander,Gabriel!” Jack began to deflate some. He couldn’t really blame Gabriel whenthey’d hardly had any time together lately. With a sigh, he crossed back overto the bed and sat down, reaching over to take Gabe’s hand. “I don’t get thesame luxuries that everyone else does. You already know that.”

Gabe pulled his hand away.“Your uniform’s in the bathroom. Better go make an appearance before you get introuble, pretty boy.”

“Keep calling a mansomething like that, and he could get an ego.”

“You already have an ego.No stopping it now.” Gabe shrugged a little, but Jack saw his sad, good-naturedsmile and knew he wasn’t really mad. He lifted a hand and waved it at Jack,trying to shoo him away. “Go on, get out of here. Go make the world a betterplace. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

The resignation inGabriel’s voice clenched around Jack’s heart. He checked his phone again. Two hourslate for the meeting. He’d already have to hear hell about being late… Hesmiled a little, tossing his phone back down onto the beside table. Gabrieldidn’t look at him, pretending to be less bothered by this whole thing than heactually was.

When Jack fell back ontothe bed, Gabriel did look. He sat up,an eyebrow raised at Jack, who shrugged. He tried not to grin at Gabe’sdumbfounded stare but failed completely.

“I figure if I’m alreadylate, what’s the point in going?” Jack scooted over until he could wrap himselfaround Gabe again, fingertips digging into hard muscle as he dragged Gabriel’sarms around him again. “Besides, it’s my day off.”

Gabriel laughed, shakinghis head in disbelief. He rolled on top of Jack, caging him between strong armsand thighs, and Jack couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be. “You’re a painin my ass, you know that?”

“Usually, you’re a pain inmine.” Jack wiggled his eyebrowssuggestively.

Gabe shook his head, sighingin disappointment and disbelief. “It is so difficult to love you.”

Jack grinned and slid hishand around the back of Gabriel’s neck, urging him down for a kiss. “Yeah?There better be a but after that,Reyes.”

Gabriel kissed him, softly,tenderly, the way men of blood and war didn’t kiss. He kissed him slowly, as ifthey had all the time in the world and not just this day. He kissed him sosenseless that Jack couldn’t even think to be embarrassed when Gabe encourageda moan from his throat. All he could think was how he wanted more. Everything Gabriel had to offer him, and he’d give everything backin return.

He really didn’t need tohear it when Gabe pulled back to give him the but he’d demanded. Already, Jack was pulling him back in for anotherkiss, but he still got to taste those words as they left Gabriel’s tongue in anardent whisper.

“But it is so worth it.”

Six words never tastedsweeter. 

[endless-vall]

Wedding day - Liam x Mc fanfic

Summary: The events of Liam’s proposal and his (finally) wedding day with MC. Author’s note: I’ve noticed my Liam x MC’s fanfics are always from MC’s POV or revolves around her, and wanted to go for something a bit different this time. This fanfic’s from Liam’s POV. I also just wanted to write some fluff for them, since my last fanfic of them was a bit angsty.

After figuring everything out, and finally finding Tariq, who confessed to the media that nothing was Amber’s fault, Amber’s name is finally cleared and Liam is finally free out of his engagement with Madeleine. It turns out Adelaide had made a deal with his father, one that they succeeded in uncovering, without getting the blame on his father. Now, Liam was to choose another bride, and he knew exactly who he wanted.

He stood before the door to her room. For the first time in a while, actually hesitating. They did everything they could to reach this moment, but what if Amber realized she didn’t want it anymore? She did say she didn’t want to be the other woman, and while she didn’t have to be anymore, he did put her in that position for a while. What if Amber was so focused on clearing her name, she stayed and fought only for that, and not for Liam? He shook those thoughts out his mind, remembering their night in the opera. "I just hope that in the end, the good parts are nough to make the hardships worth it for you." "Liam... They already are. /You/ already are. I wouldn't trade the time I've spent with you for anything." Amber asuured. "Even the bad parts?" He can't help but ask. With Amber, he can really be honest, and show his vulnerabilities. "The parts with you are never bad." She tells him, simply. With a sweet smile across her lips. It almost makes Liam tear up. He doesn't know how she can stay so optimistic through times like this, after everything she's been through since she got to court. She wasn’t naive. She knew damn well to face her enemies, and conducted an investigation on the person that set her up. But when it was just them, Amber and Liam, it really did still feel like a fairytail love story. But maybe it was just her magic. Maybe this was part of why Liam fell in love with her in the first place. After remembering how sure Amber always made he feel, he knocked on the door. All it took was a knock, and the door opened before him. In a matter of seconds, the door closed behind him and they were in each other’s arms. “Liam...” Amber said after a few long moments. “Amber...” He said her name like a prayer, before taking her face in his hands, and pulling her into a kiss. They dwell on the moment, kissing each other passionately, clinging closer against each other. Somehow the taste of Amber’s lips was never sweeter than in that moment. After a while, they break apart, both gasping for air. Flushed, their faces still inches apart, Liam takes a box ring out of his pocket. “I’ll probably have to do it the official way, in front of the court, but I can’t wait any longer...” He drops to one knee. Amber gasps in awe as he reveals the engagement ring. It wasn’t the same he gave Madeleine, obviously. Amber got the real ring. The beautiful, light blue diamond sparkled in the dim light of her room, as she nodded and Liam slipped the ring over her finger. “I love you so much...” Amber actually tears up as she says that, and Liam can see the sincerity in her words. That night, they share, it’s the first time Amber really breaks apart. Tangled up in his arms, Liam holds her. He cries with her, but not from sorrow, from happiness, relief, and his strong feelings for her. They recreate the proposal in front of the rest of the court a couple of days later. “Lady Amber Rivers of house Beaumont, will you marry me?” Liam asks, holding the same ring in front of her. Amber beams just like the first time. “Yes.” They skip the engagement tour, neither able to wait any longer. But Liam assures her she’d get the best post-wedding tour. Maybe even make it a honeymoon tour. Amber jokes they’ll never leave their hotel rooms in their honeymoon, making Liam blush furiously. He likes that idea more than he cares to admit. And they have their wedding day shortly. They invite along the entire court, his brother, Leo, along with his wife Kelly and her family. They invite Amber’s cousin, Heyley, too. And the big day arrives. Liam’s so used to it, by now. Standing in the spotlight, greeting people. But none of that is right about today. Today was different. Every guest he greeted, he greeted honestly. Not faking a smile, and listening to nonsense ramble coming out of their mouths. Today was about him and Amber. And each guest could see how genuinely happy Liam was. How in love he was with his wife to be. And when they announced her name, everyone turned just as eagerly as he have. Looking at the grand doors opening, Amber stepped in, looking more beautiful than Liam ever seen her. But it wasn’t the gleaming white dress she was wearing, or the way she did her hair. It wasn’t the makeup they insisted on painting her face with, but the way she smiled... they way she looked at him, as if he was the best thing that had happened to her in the world. She stepped down the stairs, Liam waiting for her at the bottom. “You look radiant.” He greeted her, when they finally met. He bowed down and planted a kiss to the back of the palm of her hand, and a smile spread across her lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She teased, back, squeezing his hand in hers. He’s about to lean in and just kiss her-- “Ahm.” It was Bastien, who reminded them where they were, and motioned with his head to the direction of the canopy. Nodding, both of them make their way over. Both keep their real vows to their friends ears only. The truth, deep meaning of their love story isn’t to the ears of the entire court, so they keep it short. “Liam,” Amber is the first to go. She’s teary-eyed, nothing but happiness is written across her face. “You came into my life less than a year ago, and yet… You’ve managed to turn in upside down. If someone had told me I’d be marrying the love of my life when you walked into my life that night, I would’ve never believed them. I learned a lot since coming to Cordonia, but most of it was actually about myself. I can’t express how happy I am to be standing beside you today, but I can promise to love and cherish you for the rest of my life, and stand beside you even in the tough times. I promise to be the queen Cordonia needs, and rule beside you peacefully, for as long as I may live.” Amber tells him, throwing a quick look to her bridesmaids, and then to Bertrand and Maxwell. Justin is standing right beside them, giving her a thumbs up. He helped her phrase the vows, in a way that was court-appropriate. Giving him a slight nod, she returns her gaze to Liam, who’s not less excited than she is. “Every moment with you feels like a fairy tale, but this is not a happy ending. It’s a happy beginning.” She finishes, just in a perfect note. It’s Liam’s turn, and he takes a deep breathe. Not because he’s nervous, or unsure, but because he doesn’t know if he can top what she just said. Smiling widely at her, he starts too. “Amber.” As he says her name, she tightens her hold of his hands. “Every moment with you has been a delight. I never knew someone who fought so hard for me, before, and I promise to do the same for you for every day for the rest of our lives. Like you said, our love story is not ending tonight, it’s only beginning. I can’t wait to start our journey together. I love you, Amber.” He finishes. “And I love you.” She answers, more quietly, but in a way that speaks volumes to Liam. They exchange their rings. “You may now kiss the bride.” And share their first kiss as a married couple. The crowd erupts in cheers and awww’s, as they turn to them, looking entirely new. King Liam and Queen Amber Rys of Cordonia. They don’t disappear immediately, though that thought is tempting, but make their rounds. They participate in the apple cutting ceremony, to which Regina seems most enthusiastic about. His older brother winks at him from a few feet apart. His father gives him a nod, with a weak smile and an apologetic look in his eyes. After they finish, they continue to do their rounds. Kiara and Penelope congratulate them, one of Penelope’s poodles present, by Amber’s wishes, and he looks even more excited than them for their wedding day. Smiling, and bending down to pat him, Liam thanks both of them and turns to Amber. Nodding, they continue to their friends. Hana and Maxwell are next, coming to their way hand in hand. “Congratulation!!!” Hana hugs both of them, and Maxwell follows. “Thank you!” They beam at each other. Drake, Savannah and Bertrand join them, along with Bartie. Each giving them their best wishes. Smiling, they continue, to meet with Leo and Kelly. “Liam!” Leo exclaims as they get closer, and he embraces his brother in a tight hug. Liam returns the hug, and than shakes Kelly’s hand. “Oh, c’mon, we’re all family! Let’s hug it out.” Someone comes in, pulling all of them into a group hug. Liam briefly remembers this must be one of Kelly’s sisters, but he can’t recall the name. Leo had sent photos, and they talked all about their lives, but Kelly’s family was big, and Liam would have to memorize their names later. “Sorry, this was Jess.” Kelly apologizes after her sister is gone, walking into the direction of the dance floor, along with tall guy with black hair, and a white suit. “And she’s here with... Blake?” Liam guessed, trying to remember his brother’s stories. “Correct!” Kelly smiles, and Liam nods. “Ah, I knew I’d get it right, eventually.” He chuckles. “We wanted to congratulate the two of you! We know how hard it was getting to this point, and we wish that the way from now on will be smooth, and that you’ll have a happy marriage.” They tell them, and both Liam and Amber thank them. After meeting a few more nobles, Liam offers his hand to Amber. “Dance with me?” They already shared their first dance, but another won’t hurt them, and she agrees. They hold each as they glide through the dance-floor.  Amber’s dancing as if she’s a natural, as if she was born into this life. If someone had told Liam he’d end up marrying the love of his life about a year ago, he wouldn’t have believe them. But here he was. As they dance, they almost bump into another couple. This make Amber stop in her tracks. “Heyley!” She calls excitedly. “Ahhh Amber!” They hug excitedly. Even without hearing her name, with one look over her he knew this was Amber’s cousin. Smiling at him, Amber introduces her. “Liam, this is my cousin, Heyley, and her boyfriend, Mark.” She pointed to the guy standing next to her, in a black, stylish suit. Mark puts his hand over the back of his neck, kinda nervously, as he shakes his hand. “Uhm, hello, King Liam-” “There’s not need for formalities,” Liam assures him, smiling fondly, and Mark nods. “Right.” Heyley and Amber share a look, then burst out laughing. “He never changes, y’know?” Amber says, and Mark seems to realize that, chuckling along with the rest of them. They congratulate them too and then resume the dancing, letting the song finish and another one starts playing. Liam leads the way, while they dance, waltzing the two of them just out of a near by balcony.  “Brings up memories?” He asks as they turn around, watching the empty balcony. “Only the best.” Amber assured him, her back to pressed to his chest. She leans against him, thinking back to her first night at Cordonia, and to a similar dance they shared. Liam’s strong arms are wrapped around her, as she sighs dreamily. She turns back to face him, a sheepish smile on her lips. “What is it?” Liam asks, his lips copying hers. “It’s just... I love you.” She tells him. Beaming at her, he replies. “I love you too.” It was never easier for him to say those three little words. And he never meant them more than now. With everything they might have to face from now on, they had at least one night that was all about themselves. While they were King Liam and Queen Amber, tonight, they were also just Amber and Liam. And from now on, they’ll always have each other. “And...” Amber tugs at his tie, pulling him closer. “I think we should head back to our room now.” She tells him. “I couldn’t agree more.” wasting no time, he pulls at her hand and ushers her towards the doors.

[theonceoverthinker]

One Call Away, But Realms Apart (Regal Believer)

Summary: Regina’s been none too happy ever since she was awoken from her personal curse, but as she hears her cursed son talk about his dying daughter, it’s enough to nearly tip Regina over the edge of despair. Deleted scene from 7X10 when Regina calls Henry to check in on him just before she and Zelena go back to HH. Not really angsty per se, but hopefully pretty feelsy.

A/N: This was really freakin’ fun to work on, and got me out of my writer’s rut! Hope you all enjoy it too!

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Zelena had told Regina to wait until after dinner to call Henry. She argued, quite validly, that Henry’s flight would take a few hours and he’d need time with Jacinda and Lucy.

Because of that, Regina waited, and the two of them had dinner together in Zelena’s apartment. Their meal, had it not been overshadowed by the weight of their situation, might have been much sweeter than it had been allowed to be. Zelena had insisted on eating pizza, moaning about her desire for a reunion with carbs and grease, and that couple with further details about her sister’s cursed lifestyle were enough to make Regina produce at least a couple of genuine smiles. They spent the time while finishing off the pie talking about their time under the curse. Regina almost got covered in tomato sauce when she told her sister that Hook had become an Eagle Scout of a detective who was now gallivanting around town with Rumpelstiltskin.

However, as nice as it was to reconnect with Zelena after all this time, the hours passed as slowly as a snail’s trip up a windy hill. Regina had made a habit of looking at her watch whenever there was any kind of silence between them, and sometimes, even if there wasn’t one. She was sure that Zelena had picked up on what she was doing, but she didn’t say anything. If Regina had the heart for it, she would’ve laughed. Time had ingrained her sister with sentiment and empathy the likes of which she would have scoffed at when they first met.

Following dinner, Zelena asked to take a look at Regina’s car, wanting to know how much space she’d have for her things before she started packing. Regina obliged, and a few minutes later, they were outside her building. Zelena had a quick look around the car, nodded, and then turned to Regina.

“I’m going to go ready my stuff,” she said. “Have a feeling I’m going to be gone for quite a while.” Zelena then pat Regina on her shoulder and gave her a sad smile. “Go talk to Henry.”

Regina, despite her longing to do just that, stayed put and bit her lip in hesitation.

“Do you think enough time has passed?” She asked.

Zelena nodded. “I do. And in the highly unlikely chance I’m wrong,” she added, grinning, “he’ll let you know. Now go and call him. I’ve a lot to pack.” With that, Zelena headed back into her apartment. Regina, deciding not to wait another moment longer, plugged in Henry’s name into her smartphone and clicked the call button.

One ring passed, then two, then three. Regina’s heart started to sink, dreading the familiar sound of her son’s voicemail, when suddenly, he picked up.

“Henry?” Regina said, her voice a touch hitched despite her best efforts.

“Hey, Roni.” It was odd to Regina just how odd her cursed name had sounded to her ears after a only a few hours of answering to her real name. She made a mental note to have Zelena practice saying her cursed name in the car until it was natural. For now though, Regina brushed aside her awkwardness and went straight to the point.

“How’s Lucy?”

“She the same,” Henry answered, so quietly that Regina almost didn’t hear him. Regina had asked that question knowing how Henry would likely respond, but nothing could prepare her for how miserable the words sounded as they came out his mouth. Regina felt her heart plumett down her chest in a way it hadn’t in so long.

“Henry, I,” Regina started, but stopped just as quickly. She chided herself for nearly telling him that she understood what he was going through. She knew that that choice of words would at best come off as an empty platitude and at worst result in icy words getting thrown back in her direction, for how could she explain that less than twenty years ago, she was in a similar situation?

Regina sighed, and worked out another phrasing of her sentiments.

“Henry, I’m so sorry,” she rectified, her voice low.

“Jacinda and I haven’t left the room in hours. Right now, she’s passed out on a chair by Lucy’s bed. She’s exhausted. Probably has been up for a whole day by now.”

There was a pause, as if both of them were trying to figure out what next to say.

“I read to her,” Henry eventually continued. “Jacinda thought it would be a good idea.” Regina smiled. It was such a Henry thing to do to read to someone in distress, even if Jacinda had ultimately motivated him to do it. She could even picture it. Henry always had the perfect reading voice.

“That-that’s good. Did she respond to it at all?” For a moment, Regina had something that she had sorely lacked from the moment she had awoken from this most recent curse: hope.

“No,” Henry sighed. Over the line, Regina could hear Henry’s breath quicken up. Every inhale and exhale was audible and rapid, only grower moreso as the seconds passed. Regina leaned against the outer wall of her sister’s apartment building. She once again knew that the answer to the question she was about to ask would only lead to pain, and right now, with Henry’s knowledge of their true relationship gone and without any way of giving him the comfort she knew he desperately needed, Regina felt herself needing some semblance of support.

“Henry, are you okay?”

“Roni, I tried bringing her back, just like in my book.” Regina stifled a sob as she heard a crack in his voice, one that only grew as he spoke. “You remember the part where Emma broke the curse, right? I kissed her on the forehead, just like in that scene. But it didn’t work. I-I don’t know why I tried it, but as I leaned in - I don’t know - I just thought it would wake her up! I actually believed that I was her father, and I could stop all of this. I don’t even know what to think! Am I going insane?” At this point, Regina was biting her tongue, a last resort to stay the tears that were pouring down her face like a ruptured pipe so that they wouldn’t become outright sobs. On the other end of the line, while she couldn’t see them, she swore Henry was shedding tears of his own.

Regina took a deep and shaky breath, knowing she’d need to speak.

“Henry,” she said, as soberly as she could. “You’re not crazy, do you hear me?” She could hear Henry chuckle, not bitterly, but sadly.

“I’m starting to think I just might be,” Henry countered.

“Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re not.” Regina attributed her emphasis on that point to come down to a few things, not the least of which being guilt for cardinal sin of claiming the opposite all those years ago. “You care about this girl and you had hope, and there is nothing wrong with that.” Her voice was loud and firm now, far more than Regina probably should have allowed it to be. “So you took a chance.”

“And a fat lotta good it did,” Henry commented.

“It’s a start,” Regina encouraged, her voice now firm and unshaken. “Henry, I promise you: Lucy’s going to be okay, and the two of you are going to be happy. Now, Kelly and I are heading back to the city tonight, and we’ll be at the hospital the first thing tomorrow, but until that happens, I’m going to need you to promise me two things.”

“Two?” Henry scoffed.

“Yes, two,” Regina insisted. “First, you’re to take care of yourself. Get some coffee and food in your system. You’ll be no good to anyone if you can barely fight off your stomach. Don’t forget: I know how you are with those donuts you bring in and the pretzels I leave out at the bar.”

“Okay,” Henry answered, clearly convinced. “What’s the second promise?”

Regina took another deep breath. This promise she confessed that she hadn’t thought out fully, but concluded that it was harmless enough. It was mostly for her peace of mind, because as it stood, her son’s state scared her just a bit.

“You’re to stay with Jacinda. Henry, she needs you now, and Lucy does too. So however sorry for yourself you’re feeling, you’re going to have to hold out just a little longer.”

Another chuckle could be heard through the speaker of Regina’s phone.

“You don’t even need to ask me to do that, Roni.”

Despite everything that would happen and everything that was sure to come, Regina smiled.

“You’re a good man, Henry Mills, and I’m so proud of you.” She knew what she had said may have come off a touch too motherly, and might even hold the risk of confusing Henry, but of all the things that she really wanted to say, this was the closest to the motivating words of a friend that she could come up with.

Thankfully, nothing that she said had seemed off putting in the slightest.

“Thanks, Roni. I’m glad I have you around. I’m pretty sure I’d actually go insane if I didn’t. Well, you and Kelly have a long drive, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Henry.” Honestly, had she not had the pressing need to drive through hours of traffic and darkness with her eccentric sister, she would have gladly stayed on with him all night if he wanted to. That said, she knew what they both needed to do, and an evening on the phone, no matter how comforting it would be to just talk to him and make him feel better as best as she cold, would do more harm than good for their purposes. So, with a heavy heart, Regina pressed the red button on her phone’s touch screen, and brought their phone call to an end.

Regina despite every bit of somberness she wanted to sulk in, refused to let herself succumb to the darkness. Just as she’d said to Henry, she’d find a way to for he and Lucy to get their happy ending, no matter the cost.

As Regina approached her sister, ready to talk once more of strategies and information, she gritted her teeth with determination.

It was show time.

[monosylla-blog]

I sent Josh a friend request on Facebook when I was drunk at a party many months ago, and then deleted the request a few months later. I don’t know what I expected him to do. I wondered if he’d googled my area code from when I texted him, if he knew where I was from. I wondered if he would find me attractive, if he would date me, now that I am not only older than Olivia was, but also better read and more experienced. I wondered how he feels about what I did, if he ever thinks about me. I wondered if he talked to his friends about me, and what they thought. I wondered if he had ever written anything about me. I wondered if he took a break from online dating. I wondered if he is as disappointing as the other mid-twenties dudes I know and have fucked. Would the sex have been good? Would we still be in love? If I were Josh’s Olivia, would he even have been what I want?

When I created the fake okCupid profile, my intentions were unclear. I told my friends, who were all older than I was, that I was using the profile as a sort of litmus test to see what the social scene was like in the various cities I was considering going to college in. This was partly true. This was the excuse I initially told myself. But it also was not the first time I had an internet relationship, although it would be the last.

Having been around 16 at the time, and fat, and probably understandably angsty and weird, and generally unattractive to every boy I interacted with, or at least not attractive enough to warrant letting me know I was not hideous, I was getting pretty annoyed by my lack of romantic prospects. I was desperate for romance. It was the summer before my senior year of high school and I recently left a megachurch I had happily committed most of my time to for three years. I sought to catch myself up with my peers somehow, I suppose. While I was attending youth band practice and taking care of church members’ children every Sunday morning, my classmates were out experimenting and getting good at all the stuff I had only ever read and fantasized about.

I spent a lot of my time fantasizing about what my life in college would look like. I would to go to parties all the time, and I would sleep with so many dudes, I would read so many books, and finally, FINALLY, I would get a boyfriend. I spent so much time split between worrying no one would ever love me in that way, and wondering what my life would be like once someone finally did. Would the men at school actually appreciate all the Bukowski I read in a misguided attempt to seem interesting? Would they be into the kinky, dom/sub sex I kept reading about on Tumblr all summer?

The pictures I used for the profile were of a model I found on Tumblr. She was incredibly beautiful, almost ethereally so. She wore a long, straight weave and was model thin, with Victoria’s Secret model proportions. She was not a girl next door by any means. I imagined, by the time I start college, I could totally look vaguely like this girl. I gave myself the name Olivia and I picked the age 19, which felt like the age I should have been at the time anyway. I set my location to Pittsburgh, where I thought I might attend Pitt.

I talked to several men with this fake profile. I felt vaguely guilty the whole time, but also wildly powerful. Most men got frustrated when I evaded their questions about Pittsburgh, or about why I was unwilling to meet them, or about why I could not tell them about my favorite bookstore in the city, even though I claimed to love books so much. There was one man in particular I felt compelled to be honest with, and he chastised me for Catfishing, even though I explained I had no intention for it to be long term or, you know, misleading. I tried not to make up details about my life for the most part, and was honest in my interactions, save my name and appearance, so I started calling it a social experiment.

I do not know what Josh’s first message to me read. I am sure it was something eloquent and boozy. Having spent a summer building myself, pretending to like all the male writers and musicians I thought I should like to be the kind of girl I thought I should be to land the kind of relationships with men I thought I wanted, we bonded over our mutual interests in vinyl and literature. I avoided telling him the only Fitzgerald I had actually been exposed to had been against my own will in the 11th grade. I did not tell him the only records I owned were the ones my brother had bought me for Christmas at my request, Justin Timberlake’s The 20/20 Experience parts 1 and 2. But the lies felt less like lies and more like truths about my future self. I was not necessarily wrong, I would probably resemble Olivia eventually.

Josh was 25 at the time, in a band that was actually good, a writer, and genuinely hilarious. I imagined myself on tour with him. We messaged all day for several days, leaving me constantly dazzled by promises of road trips where we would shoot off fireworks in parking lots and make love in his car. I woke up to messages from him and fell asleep talking to him. He told me he absolutely loved the name Olivia, so I wished to exist in the alternate universe where my name really was Olivia. I began to understand things had already gone too far when I started trying to come up with lies to avoid meeting him. I wanted to freeze this reality; I wanted to encase this constant but limited attention in a shadowbox. Mostly, I did not want his opinion to change of me. He had fallen for me after all. Just like, the very best possible version of myself.

Josh revealed himself to me in ways in which I never asked him to, or reciprocated. He told me about his battle with body image issues, and how he used to be fat. I told him I also used to be fat. I omitted the part about still being fat. Josh felt understood; I felt further away from myself than I had ever felt before. The sweeter he was, the more I hated myself, and the more I needed to keep talking to him. I disappeared from the world for a week.

My excuses became increasingly erratic and concerning. I told Josh my grandmother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and that I had to move to Tanzania to help take care of her. Josh suggested we write letters to each other while I was out of the country, until we could be together. He told me when he imagined his future, he couldn’t see one without his Olivia. I didn’t know which was more alarming - my lie, or his response to it.

Finally, wrecked with guilt and sadness, the once-dull ache of my constant and overwhelming fucking physical desire reaching a peak, I took a deep breath and told Josh the truth. Or rather, the truth packed its bags and flung itself out of my body through my mouth, exhausted from living in such a hostile and guilt-ridden environment. I told him I was 16, going on 17. I told him the pictures were not of me. I told him why I had created the account in the first place, and that I felt awash with guilt over how in over my head I had gotten. Josh’s response displayed essentially the entire spectrum of grief in one message. He refused to believe me at first, and was convinced I felt bad about having to move to Tanzania to take care of my fake grandmother with ovarian cancer. He begged me to tell the truth. I did not know what to say to him, so instead I tried to convince him we could be friends until I turned 18. At this point, he became angry, expressed his fear of our online tryst being illegal, and told me to delete my account. Before deleting Olivia, I screenshotted his most meaningful messages.  

One of those screenshots captured a message with Josh’s phone number. I helped myself to a vodka cranberry c/o my parents’ liquor cabinet, which really only ever contains about half a bottle of vodka. It was my first taste of alcohol since 7th grade, when I took a shot of whiskey prior to taking a standardized test I was unprepared for. Saddled with some liquid courage, I began to draft a text to Josh. The vodka cranberry was basically 4 oz of vodka to one teaspoon of cranberry, so I stumbled around my room trying to figure out what I could say to salvage the relationship. It was a desperate drunkenness, a kind I haven’t succumbed to since. I didn’t like the kinds of things this drunkenness made me say and do. I texted Josh and essentially begged him to forgive me. I suggested we write letters to each other until I became legal. I felt myself being pulled apart by a fantasy life I accidentally created and wanted so badly to recreate.

Eventually, I stopped fantasizing about being with him as myself. I learned not to fantasize because I am incredibly pain-avoidant and It hurt to know I was capable of such an intricate lie. I started to joke about it vaguely with friends. “Have I ever told you about the time I catfished a dude? No? Eh, I’ll tell you about it later.”

At the tender age of 17, I had experienced an inordinate amount of trauma and passion, still having never being kissed. I imagined my quasi-relationship with Josh had been more serious than any real relationships any of my classmates had ever experienced, and I was still a virgin. I grew extremely depressed and frustrated. When I expressed my frustration to my childhood best friend, she advised me to lower my standards. “That’s what I did,” she shrugged, looking sort of sorry I was just realizing everything is bullshit.