#but i'd forgotten how bad it was when she was still drinking

[miodiodavinci]

more importantly i've reached the part of my archive immediately after everything horrible came to pass and the leech basically had full run of the house because no one had any authority to stop her and i'm just 👁 👁

it really is wild to read my personal, in-the-moment recounts of her committing and saying the most heinous, vile shit and then also see myself saying "what if i'm being irrational ; ; ; what if this is actually all my fault actually ; ; ;

i've been going through my twitter and working on cleaning out old irrelevant rants (like all the times i complained about my art or went on and on about how sick i was of ace discourse) and personal life details that no one really needs to know (dealing with the leech and fighting with siblings) and just

it really is so so clear that i have adhd and have difficulty regulating my emotions skdfhgls

[artficlly]

hi !! i love ur work <3

ok i had an idea for a one shot but it’s totally fine if u don’t want to do it!

so reader and bucky break up (bucky dumps her) bc he thinks she can do better or whatevs and instead of feeling sad, reader is kind of getting off to how bad bucky is doing without her 😜😜 this is obviously inspired by my kink is karma from chappell lmao. anyways ends in fluff or smut and a lot of how much bucky missed her 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️😛😛

thank uuu !!

BITTER [one-shot]

modern marvel au vet!bartender!bucky x reader Bucky doesn't do relationships, but maybe you'll be the one to change him

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, sexual themes, angst, hurt/comfort, major character death, ptsd, bucky barnes needs a hug, bucky barnes has issues, bar fights, alcohol, smoking, swearing, stucky (historical), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: heya nonnie. this isn't exactlyyy what you asked for but i hope you like it anyway. i'm technically on hiatus rn but i felt bad leaving your ask unanswered for so long. i've been working on this between classes, i'm not super happy with it but i thought i'd post it anyway, it got a bit longer than i was expecting. i have like 5 million things due at the end of the month so i might be gone for a bit so here is a treat in the meantime! much love! ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

permanent taglist: @civilbucky @globetrotter28 (i swear there was someone else who wanted to be added, pls let me know if that was you i lost your comment)

main masterlist

The first thing Wanda had told you about Bucky Barnes was to beware. 

Proceed with caution.

You were the type to fall in love easily, it was one of the first things you had confessed to Wanda, wine-drunk only a week after moving into her dodgy shoebox of an apartment, where the previous tenant's mail still showed up—and so did their debt collector. You were new in the city, bright-eyed and overly romantic about all you encountered, including the suspicious stains on the carpet courtesy of Wanda’s old roommate, who she only referred to as ‘that nightmarish cunt’. Wanda was cool, chic yet edgy, her voice dripping a Slavic accent and always armed with a dangerous look in her eye. She worked downtown as a sous chef at one of those mid-tier restaurants that you considered fancy, but anyone even marginally higher than your pay grade wouldn’t look twice. 

Her boyfriend, Sam, worked at a bar across the road. Howling Commandos. He co-owned it with his buddy, the infamous Bucky Barnes. They had met while serving in the army, both retiring early from service. Sam was discharged after an injury that rendered him ‘useless’, and Bucky was discharged shortly after on grounds of mental health. 

And maybe that was the allure—the myth of Bucky Barnes. 

He was handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed, the usual fairy-tale rom-com affair. He was brooding, damaged goods, and had a real chip on his shoulder since his discharge. He poured a good drink, kept the bar running smoothly, and was big enough to intimidate drunk frat boys who occasionally wandered in looking for a fight. But apparently, he didn’t do relationships. He would fuck anything that moved if it caught his fleeting attention for long enough, but that was it. 

Wanda had confessed it all to you on that dreaded wine-drunk night, hummus and carrot sticks forgotten as the TV blared Wanda’s Spotify playlist on loop. She’d had a friend, one who had moved away now, but that friend had slept with Bucky. Said it was the best lay of her life. 

So, Wanda had said, voice dipped as she gave you a drunken, sloppy grin over her Pinot Gris, the two bottles she had pinched from work now empty. If you want the night of your life, go for it, but don’t expect anything more. 

That was the rule with Bucky Barnes:

Don’t get attached. 

So, maybe foolishly, when Wanda had roused you from a hangover-induced nap the following day by asking if you wanted to join her at the Howling Commandos and continue your bender from the night before, you had taken the leap. 

–

Howling Commandos didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat.

It had the look of a place that had seen one too many late nights and even more bad decisions. Exposed brick walls, low-hanging lights that shrouded the room in a dim orange glow, and a row of pool tables tucked in the back behind a collection of stained wood tables and chairs.  It was edgy, kind of dark and mysterious, much like the infamous bartender who now stood before you in the flesh. 

You and Wanda had descended upon the bar at half-past nine, arms linked, laughter spilling between you. You’d gelled quickly—your soft, unguarded friendliness balancing out her wicked smirks and razor-edged sarcasm.

She swung into a barstool with the ease of someone who belonged here, peeling off her winter coat and tossing it onto the counter, shaking the snow from her auburn hair. Across from her, Bucky barely spared her a glance, his mouth set in a line that could have been annoyance or indifference.

“Wanda.” His voice was low, unimpressed.

That was all he said. No hello, no warmth. Just her name, like it was something to be tolerated.

Wanda only grinned, leaning her elbows onto the bar like she had all the time in the world.

“Sam’s out back,” Bucky added, eyes flicking toward the door before sliding right past her, landing on you instead. “Still picking up strays, I see.”

You grinned before you could help yourself, slipping into the seat next to Wanda. As you shrugged off your coat, neatly sliding it into your lap, Wanda let out a mock-horrified gasp on your behalf. 

“So rude, this is my new roommate.” Wanda’s eyes slid over to you, head tilting as she gestured towards the scowling Bucky. “And this dickhead is Bucky. He’s co-owner with Sam.”

“I remember.” You replied with ease, your gaze and smile unwavering even as Bucky gave a noncommittal grunt, turning away to continue polishing the glass in his palm. 

Wanda, unbothered by his callousness, leant in. “I’m going to be honest, I need a drink ASAP. I’ve got an awful headache, and you know what I always say! Best way to beat a hangover? Drink even more.”

“Does Sam know you’re an alcoholic?” Bucky cut back, not even bothering to turn around. 

“Awwh, Buck, is that genuine care?”

“Not for you.” Bucky snipped.

Wanda made a mock pout face, fingers drumming across the bar. “But seriously, put me out of my misery here—”

“Your usual?” He cut over her.

Wanda didn’t skip a beat. 

“Pretty please,” she purred, her tone sweet and syrupy, dripping with exaggerated charm. As she settled more comfortably into the stool, her gaze flicked to you with a knowing gleam. “What do you want? On the house.”

Before you could respond, Sam’s voice rang out, thick with amused exasperation. “Baby, you can’t go offering drinks on the house to everyone—” He appeared from the back, a box of bottled spirits cradled in his arms,

“She’s my roommate—” Wanda began, but Sam cut her off, raising an eyebrow as he set the box down with a thud.

“Oh yeah? I haven’t forgotten the last one that you also insisted could have free drinks, and she turned out to be—”

“Don’t! Don’t bring up that cunt—”

You tuned out the conversation as Wanda slipped from her seat, weaving around the bar with the kind of effortless grace that came with knowing she belonged. She leaned into Sam’s space without hesitation, her laughter slipping through the low hum of the bar, threading between the murmur of voices and the scratchy tune spilling from the jukebox in the corner.

It wasn’t until Bucky slid a glass of dark liquor across the bar—precisely where Wanda had been sitting—that you finally tore your gaze away from them.

His eyes found yours, expectant, unmoving.

“It’s okay, I can pay,” you assured him, reaching for your wallet, but his unimpressed stare didn’t waver. His silence stretched, almost as if he were waiting for you to back down first.

You didn’t. “Gin and tonic.”

No acknowledgement, not even a nod. He simply turned, reaching for the bottle of gin without a word.

Wanda reappeared beside you, collapsing back into her seat with a dramatic sigh, a sound that quickly dissolved into a giggle as Sam pressed a quick kiss to her cheek on his way past. The small moment of affection made you smile, your gaze trailing after him as he made his way toward the pool tables. He moved with familiarity, exchanging greetings with the patrons, his presence met with easy grins and back pats.

“He’s cute,” you hummed, watching him settle into the space like he owned it.

“I know, right?” Wanda smirked, pulling her drink closer.

You propped an elbow on the bar, your curiosity piqued. “How’d you meet?”

She took a slow sip, savouring the taste before setting the glass down. It looked like rum and coke. Smelt like it too. “He used to come to my work all the time when they were fixing up this place. We just got to talking one day and—”

Bucky set your drink in front of you with the same quiet precision as before, cutting off Wanda’s sentence mid-thought. You turned your attention back to him, offering a bright smile that didn’t falter, even as he met it with a frown.

“I’ve never liked those,” Wanda barely spared him a glance, instead eyeing your drink with mild disdain. “Not sweet enough for me.”

“Well, I like my drinks how I like my men,” you replied, the words coming with a smirk that you directed toward Bucky, holding his gaze longer than you probably should have. “Bitter.”

—

Shivering in the back alley by the dumpsters probably wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, you were committed.

You and Wanda had knocked back one too many drinks—again. It was becoming a habit, one that Sam was starting to take personally, considering he was the one who had to cut Wanda off after she got a little too liberal with her chatting and nearly convinced a stranger to let her wear his coat home. You, on the other hand, had managed to slip out gracefully, settling your tab before Wanda was carted out back to be babysat and force-fed water.

Neither of them had been thrilled at the idea of you walking home alone. Buzzed, barely dressed for the weather, and just reckless enough to make poor decisions, you’d assured them you were fine. Which, technically, was true. What you had failed to mention was that you hadn’t actually made it more than a few feet out the door before deciding to truly test the limits of your dignity.

The cigarette hanging from your lips wobbled slightly as you tried—unsuccessfully—to light it with numb fingers. You swore under your breath, stuffing the useless lighter back into your pocket just as the back door of Howling Commandos swung open.

And as fate—or some cruel, all-seeing god—would have it, it wasn’t Sam or Wanda who stepped outside.

Bucky emerged, a black trash bag slung over one shoulder, his usual scowl fixed in place. His stride slowed slightly when he caught sight of you, his expression unreadable.

“Thought you went home,” he muttered. “Sam and Wanda already left. If you need a ride, I can call you a cab.”

You tilted your head, watching as he moved, efficient, mechanical. The back door groaned shut behind him, its echo swallowed by the muffled city noise beyond the alley. Dumpster lid up, bag tossed in, blue eyes flicking back to you, waiting.

“I don’t need a ride.”

His gaze swept over you, unimpressed. “Sure about that? You look outta your damn mind right now.”

You exhaled, breath clouding the frigid air as you shoved your hands deeper into your coat pockets. The wind bit through the alleyway, slithering beneath the fur-trimmed collar and creeping up your spine.

“Well, when I had this brilliant idea, I was still drunk,” you admitted, shifting your weight on unsteady legs. “Now that alcohol’s worn off and it’s cold as shit, I can’t even fuckin�� light a smoke ‘cause my hands are shaking so bad.”

You lifted your fingers to prove your point, stiff and trembling from the cold, flashing him a lazy grin. He did not look impressed.

“This a cry for help? I don’t know what it is with Wanda and picking up crazy fuckin’ roommates—”

“I wanted to get your number.” You shrugged, unbothered by the scepticism in his tone. “Didn’t want to do it in the bar, figured you’re a private kinda guy, don’t like putting your business out for the world. I can respect that.”

He blinked, once. Then, slowly, “So you thought the next best option was to wait in a back alley in the snow—?”

“Hey,” you cut him off with a laugh, shifting your weight against the wall. “I said I was drunk when I came up with it… never said it was a good plan.”

Something flickered across his expression. Dry amusement, maybe. Then, to your surprise, he huffed out a short laugh, his breath visible in the cold air curling between you.

You smirked. “C’mon, I’ve been out here for like… an hour. Least you can do is give me your number.”

He took his time looking you over, slow and assessing. Despite the heavy winter coat hanging off your shoulders, you were still grossly underdressed for the weather. The short, tight-fitting dress clung to you like a second skin, courtesy of Wanda’s slut-shaming is sooo 2016 speech. A poor choice in hindsight, considering the temperature was bordering on unbearable.

“I’ll do you one better.”

You arched a brow. “Yeah?”

His voice dipped lower, something rougher curling at the edges. “How about I lock up, and you sit your pretty little ass in my car? I’ll drive you back to mine.” A beat. “Sound good?”

Now, this was the Bucky Barnes Wanda had described—the dangerous one, the elusive ladykiller. The shift had been minuscule, yet you already found your panties were wet.

You smiled. “Well, now you’re talking my language.”

—

"We should stop seeing each other."

Bucky sat hunched on the edge of his bed, forearms braced against his knees, fingers laced tightly together as if he were holding himself back. He didn’t look at you. His jaw was set, his mouth a firm line, but that wasn’t what unsettled you—it was the tension in his shoulders, the restless bounce of his leg, the way he exhaled through his nose like he was already regretting this conversation.

That first night had been the spark, but the fire never quite burned out. It carried on in flickering embers, nights tangled in his sheets, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, bodies moving in time with the city’s restless heartbeat. If you had to put a name to it, fuck buddies was the closest fit, though even that felt too familiar, too warm. There were no tender morning-afters, no texts outside of arranging the next meeting. You met him in the alley after closing and let him drive you back to his place. Though sometimes, you never made it that far. Sometimes, it was the backseat of his car, windows fogged, streetlights streaking across his skin as you clawed at his shoulders. Other times, it was rushed and desperate, your palms braced against crates in the storeroom, breath hitching between half-suppressed moans before either of you had the sense to lock the damn door.

But as winter thawed into spring, something shifted.

The first crack in the foundation came when Bucky, against all odds, accepted your half-hearted invite to grab a bite to eat. You’d won a cheap voucher for a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place around the corner from the bar, fully expecting him to wave you off. But he hadn’t. And somehow, the two of you had ended up crammed into a booth, sharing a pile of nachos, snickering into your drinks as you watched a group of college kids make absolute fools of themselves. You wouldn’t have called it a date—Bucky sure as hell didn’t—but something about it felt different. Easier. The way he’d nudged his plate toward you when he noticed you eyeing his last taco. The way he leaned just a little too close, voice dropping low in your ear, murmuring some dry remark that made you snort into your margarita.

You weren’t sure when the line blurred. Maybe it was when your not-date nights became just as routine as your hookups. Or maybe it was at Wanda’s birthday dinner when Bucky—without thinking, without hesitation—draped his arm across the back of your chair, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against the bare skin of your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed at first, too caught up in conversation, but Wanda and Sam sure as hell had. They shared a look, one of those wordless exchanges, tight-lipped and knowing. Like they were bracing for the inevitable. Like they could already see the fallout creeping on the horizon.

And they were right.

Because after a year of effortless, reckless bliss, Bucky finally reached his limit.

You should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known that letting Wanda rope you into planning his surprise birthday party was a mistake. That something so personal, so full of effort, would make him withdraw. It was all too much. Too close. Too intimate for someone who spent his life keeping people at arm’s length.

And just like that, the fire snuffed out.

Your grip tightened around the box in your hands, the crinkling of the wrapping paper comically loud in the quiet room. The laughter and chatter from the party outside felt like a world away, muffled through the walls of his bedroom. You had pulled him aside to give him his present in private, and now it sat between you like a hand grenade, pin already pulled, waiting for the explosion.

“Are you going to open your present? Hand-picked by yours truly, I made sure not to let Sam meddle with those prank gifts of his—” You ignored his words, shoving the brightly wrapped box towards him. He barely glanced at it before waving it off, his scowl deepening.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Bucky interrupted you, expression nowhere near impressed

“Jesus, Bucky. Are you serious?” The sigh that left you was excessive, the once bubbly and sweet aura you wrapped yourself up in so tightly melting away in an instant. 

You should have known.

He had been off all week. Distant, restless. He’d stopped waiting for you in the back alley after his shifts ended, ignored your texts, and let your calls go to voicemail. Hell, he hadn’t even invited you over to fuck in two weeks, and that was the foundation of whatever this was between you. You’d told yourself it was the late winter blues—snow had been falling thick for weeks now even with spring looming closer by the day. Maybe, you had told yourself, it was some kind of early mid-life crisis with his birthday looming.

But deep down, you’d known better. You’d felt it in the way he couldn’t meet your eyes anymore, how his touch had cooled from burning to indifferent. It was like a switch had flipped, turning lust into something close to disgust.

“I’m serious,” Bucky said, exhaling like the conversation had already exhausted him. He rubbed a hand down his face, eyes fixed somewhere past your shoulder as if looking at you would make this harder. Or maybe easier. “We should stop… whatever this is.”

The present now sat on the bed, abandoned between you. You placed it down with deliberate care, fingers smoothing over the edges as you mulled over his words. Beyond the walls, the party raged on, voices rising in drunken harmony as Sweet Caroline blared over the speakers. A chorus of shouts—touchin’ me, touchin’ you—mocked the silence stretching between you.

You knew there was no point in arguing, not when Bucky had already made up his mind, disillusioned or not. But the question still burned its way up your throat before you could stop it, raw and sharp as you met his gaze.

“Why?”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

However he had expected you to react, this clearly wasn’t it. Maybe he thought you’d cry. Maybe he thought you’d yell. But you had never been the type for tears or begging. You just wanted the truth. The cold, ruthless reason why this wasn’t working anymore.

“Yes. Why? What’s changed?”

Bucky hesitated, something flickering across his face. Hesitation, regret, guilt, maybe all three. Then, his jaw tensed, and he forced the words out like they tasted bitter on his tongue.

“You’re… You’re just too much. You’re too much for me.”

Your head tilted slightly, observing him. He still wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Too much, huh?” You echoed, voice steady despite the way your stomach twisted. “And how exactly am I too much?”

He sighed, exasperated. “You’re just… overbearing. You always want to text or call, or stop by the bar. You’re always asking after me with Sam and Wanda. It’s all just a little too much, doll. This was supposed to be a casual thing.” His fingers flexed at his sides, his frustration palpable. “You’re just—”

“So, you’re punishing me because I care?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying, Bucky?” Your voice sharpened, and your patience unravelling. “That I’m clingy? That I’m suffocating you? Is it such a crime that I want to spend time with you—”

“You’re just—fuckin’ everywhere.” His voice rose, and you arched a brow, arms folding over your chest. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I swear to God. Every thought I have, everything I do—you’re there. I dream about you. And sometimes, I swear I smell that goddamn perfume of yours even when you’re not around—”

“Bucky.” You took a step forward, searching his face for something, anything. “Have you ever considered that maybe this is happening because you like me? Not because I’m some overbearing burden in your life—”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his entire body stiff.

“I don’t do relationships.”

You let out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking your head. “So, what then? You’re just gonna cut me off? I got too close, didn’t I? Too close to you—to the real you, the one you hide under all that brooding, tough-guy bullshit—so now you’re pushing me away?”

Bucky’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing.

You exhaled sharply, your patience splintering under the weight of his silence. “You know, Wanda warned me this would happen. Sam too. Hell, just about everyone out there did.” You gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the muffled chaos of the party beyond his bedroom. Laughter and music seeped through the walls. “Your friends, your colleagues. They all warned me. Guess I’m the idiot for thinking it’d be different, huh?”

His gaze flickered. A barely-there flinch. You pressed on.

“They told me you throw people away when they get too attached.” Your voice softened, but not with kindness, with something hollow, something resigned. “Or worse, when you do.”

His breath hitched, so quick and so subtle that if you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you would’ve missed it. But you saw it: the crack, the hesitation, the battle waging behind those sharp blue eyes.

For a second, it almost looked like he might break. Like he might finally say what he was really thinking.

But then, just as quickly as it appeared, the moment was gone. His expression hardened, every ounce of warmth draining from his face.

“I don’t need you.”

And just like that, the last ember of hope inside you burned out.

You swallowed against the ache in your throat, but your voice came steady, unwavering. “Is that the truth?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Or are you just telling yourself that to feel better?”

His eyes darkened, and this time, there was no hesitation.

“Get out.”

—

You weren’t sure why you came back to the Howling Commandos.

You were beginning to suspect that Wanda and Sam were scheming something. She was constantly begging you to visit the bar every night off she had with the promise of free liquor. It had taken a few weeks after Bucky’s birthday meltdown for you to finally budge. Maybe it was the way Wanda had pulled you along, her arm hooked through yours like she could drag you away from the weight of it all. Maybe it was the way she made you laugh, tipping her head back, auburn hair catching in the bar’s dim light, her wicked look as she shrugged off her coat and flung it onto the counter. Maybe it was because you knew he would be here.

And, maybe, just maybe, you wanted that.

Bucky stood behind the bar, sleeves rolled to his forearms, jaw tight as he poured a whiskey neat without looking up. He must’ve heard you come in like he always did, but his eyes never once lifted from his work.

You perched upon one of the barstools beside Wanda, the wood sticky beneath your elbows, the orange glow from the bar’s lights catching in the condensation on your glass. A gin and tonic. No words exchanged, no request needed, just Bucky’s hand sliding it across the table without so much as a glance in your direction.

It was almost funny, the way he refused to look at you, wouldn’t acknowledge you beyond the ghost of a touch as his fingers brushed the glass. And yet, he still remembered your drink. Still took the time to slice a bit of lemon for the rim, just the way you liked it. Never mind that he’d once grumbled about how much he hated customers who ordered anything that meant extra cleanup at the end of the night.

“You gonna sulk all night or actually have fun?” Wanda teased, knocking her knee against yours.

You took a slow sip, letting the cool burn of gin settle on your tongue before answering. “I am having fun.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, not buying it for a second.

But the night wasn’t all bad. You were feeling good, maybe a little too good, laughing at Sam’s exaggerated retelling of a story you’d already heard a dozen times, Wanda snorting into her rum, the buzz settling in like a second skin.

But the uneasy peace did not last long, as chaos had a way of following Bucky Barnes like his own shadow.

Two guys, a little too confident, a little too eager. You felt them before you even turned, whiskey on their breath, a practiced smirk tugging at the lips. The kind of men who smelled like cheap aftershave and overconfidence, sliding into your space with easy grins and empty compliments. One leaned in too close. “Didn’t think someone like you would be drinking alone.”

You arched a brow. “Who says I’m alone?”

He took the bait, smirking. “That right? Where’s your boyfriend, then?”

“Don’t have one.” You replied, tone disinterested.

He grasped your arm, and you yanked it away, nearly elbowing Wanda beside you in the process. “Oh yeah? I could change that for you sweetheart—” 

You didn’t have time to answer before you saw the bar flap shoot up in your peripherals. 

“Hey, man,” Sam warned, barely getting the words out before Bucky was there, a cloud at the edge of your vision, muscles wound tight beneath his shirt. He wasn’t looking at you, not really, but you could feel the storm rolling off him in waves, the tension singing through his frame.

The guy didn’t even have time to react before Bucky shoved him back—hard enough to knock him off balance, sending his drink sloshing onto the floor.

“The fuck?” Whiskey-breath scowled, stumbling forward like he thought he had a chance.

Bucky stepped in, jaw clenched, fist already curled like a promise. His voice was smooth, even. “Out. Now.”

The guy scoffed, straightening. “Oh yeah? What are you, the bouncer?”

“Nah.” Bucky tilted his head. “I fuckin’ own the place.”

Sam was rounding the bar, slipping beneath the bar flap. “One rule, Bucky! We have one rule!”

“No assholes in the bar?” Bucky deadpanned, flexing his fingers.

“No. No punching customers—hey!”

Too late.

The first punch landed with a sickening crack, sharp enough to slice through the low hum of conversation. A brief, stunned silence settled over the bar, glasses paused mid-air, a cue ball rolling to a stop on the felt. Then, a gasp. A sharp inhale. Someone let out a bark of laughter.

The guy staggered back, clutching his jaw, blinking like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. But instead of learning his lesson, he surged forward, swinging blindly in a desperate attempt to save face.

The impact came from the right. A solid hit, knuckles cutting against Bucky’s brow. His head snapped slightly to the side, strands of dark hair falling loose from where they’d been tucked behind his ears. The second punch followed fast—less precise, more frantic—but it clipped him along the cheekbone, just enough to split the skin.

A thin trail of red welled up, tracking down the sharp line of his face.

Bucky stilled.

A slow, dangerous exhale. Then, before the guy could so much as blink, Bucky struck. A brutal, efficient one-two, fist slamming into ribs, then an upward cut that sent the man sprawling. His friend hesitated, torn between pride and self-preservation, before grabbing a fistful of his collar and dragging him toward the door.

Bucky flexed his fingers, shaking out his hand like he was testing for damage, like he barely felt it. The cut above his brow was bleeding, a slow trickle of crimson trailing towards his temple, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

You took a sip of your drink, eyes flicking lazily towards him, your pulse not even kicking up. Beside you, Wanda didn’t so much as blink; she just swirled the last of her rum and coke, watching the scene unfold like it was a rerun of a show she’d seen too many times before.

Finally, with a knowing smirk, she leaned in, voice low and honey-smooth. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

You swirled your gin and tonic, ice clinking against the glass, lips curling around the rim as you took another sip.

“Maybe.”

—

The back room was cold, the kind of cold that settled deep in the bones, seeping through the exposed brick walls. A single bulb hung overhead, casting a dim, yellow glow over the stacked crates of liquor and the metal shelves lined with bottles. You’d been in here many times, though usually under much more pleasurable circumstances. Bucky sat on an overturned crate, elbows on his knees, blood drying along the ridge of his knuckles. His head was tipped slightly forward, shoulders hunched as he rolled one of his split knuckles between his fingers, like he was testing if it still hurt. 

You shut the door behind you.

His jaw tightened. “Don’t.”

You ignored him, stepping past the crates and grabbing the first aid kit off the nearest shelf. “Sit up straight.”

He didn’t move.

So, with a sigh, you pressed a firm hand to his shoulder and shoved him upright. He let it happen, though he shot you an unamused look as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Jesus, you’re pushy.”

You crouched in front of him, flipping open the first aid kit, the sharp scent of antiseptic filling the air. He watched as you poured alcohol onto a clean cloth, soaking it through before pressing it against the cut above his brow.

Bucky flinched, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab your wrist, to stop you. But he didn’t.

“Hold still,” you murmured, dabbing at the wound.

His lip curled slightly, but he stayed put, letting you clean the blood away. His fists clenched on his thighs, shoulders wound tight like he was waiting for something worse.

“You know,” you said, voice light despite the weight in the air, “I heard from Wanda you’ve been losing it lately.”

Bucky huffed. “Yeah?”

“She said you’ve been missing shifts, and when you do turn up, you’re, uh…” You smirked, twisting the cloth to clean the edge of his jaw. “Well, these are her words, not mine—a miserable old cunt. Keep picking fights with customers.” You paused, waiting to see his response. His lips remained sown shut, his gaze cold, and he did not quite meet your eye. With an arch of your brow, you continued.

“Apparently, someone broke into your car, and you’re getting kicked out of your apartment because your landlord wants to sell it to some construction assholes.” You tilted your head, studying him. “I mean, some of that isn’t your fault, but it sounds like karma to me.”

Bucky’s fingers flexed. “Why do you care, doll?”

“I don’t,” you said easily, wringing out the cloth before pressing it against his brow again. “It’s like… watching a car wreck. Kind of captivating in a way.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “You’re fucked up.”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” You shrugged, barely glancing at him as you grabbed another clean cloth. “But I think, deep down, maybe I just pity you.”

Bucky’s expression darkened. “Why are you so normal about all of this? Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to be, I don’t know, freaking out? I was the one who dropped you, not the other way around.”

You paused, the cloth still pressed to his skin. You considered his words, then slowly and calmly, you replied. “It’s your own heart that you’re breaking, baby.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “You don’t know that.”

“I think I do.”

His lips parted like he was about to argue, but instead, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You don’t know shit about me.”

You sat back on your heels, observing him. The bruises were darkening across his cheekbones, his knuckles still raw, and his body shuddering from the aftermath. But beneath it all—under the cold defiance and the sharp edges—you saw it. The weight of something unspoken, something he wouldn’t admit to himself.

You hummed, tilting your head. “I know a lot.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered to you, wary.

“I know that you take your coffee black, your whiskey neat,” you said, voice soft. “That you always make your bed because it’s a habit from when you served. You prefer to drive stick. You’re a cat person.” 

You held his gaze, watching the way his fingers curled. “I know that you wear two sets of dog tags. That there are ghosts following you that you don’t talk about. I know that you realised you were getting attached to me. That it scared you so badly you dropped me the moment it clicked.”

“I know that you still ask after me,” you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know that deep down, you care about me.”

Silence settled between you. 

Bucky stared at his hands, dried blood caking along the ridges of his knuckles. He was still for a long time, so long you thought maybe he wasn’t going to respond at all. 

“This… this thing between us.” His voice was rough. “It was a fling. Nothing more. A moment in time, not to be repeated.”

You inhaled slowly, disappointment evident, then stood.

With an easy motion, you tossed the bloodied rag onto a nearby crate.

“Keep telling yourself that,” you murmured, stepping back.

Bucky looked up at you, something flickering behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

You just smiled.

“Because I know,” you said simply, turning toward the door, “that in the end, you’ll come crawling back to me.”

“I won’t.”

You glanced over your shoulder, the corners of your lips curling.

“Okay.”

—

The cemetery was quiet, save for the whisper of wind through bare branches and the distant hum of traffic beyond the iron gates. The last bite of winter still clung to the air, spring struggling to take hold, leaving the sky an endless stretch of pale grey.

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself as you stepped out of Sam’s car, boots crunching against the gravel path. Wanda climbed out from the passenger side, rubbing her arms against the cold, while Sam exhaled sharply, tilting his head towards the small gathering of headstones up ahead.

“He’s already here,” he murmured.

Bucky stood with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, his back to you, his head slightly bowed toward the grave. Even from a distance, there was a tension in the way he held himself—like he was bracing for impact or maybe just trying to keep from unravelling.

You tightened your grip on the flowers in your hand and followed Sam and Wanda towards him.

Bucky didn’t turn when you approached, but you saw his shoulders shift, the slight tensing of his jaw when he realised there was one more person than expected. He still didn’t say anything, though, just kept his eyes on the headstone.

Steve Rogers.

The name was carved deep into the stone, clean and straightforward. No rank, no medals, no accolades. Just a name. A man who had meant something to them.

You hadn’t even known Steve existed until Sam mentioned him offhand a few days ago, his voice softer than usual, the usual humour dimmed. He hadn’t given many details—just that Steve was an old friend, someone he and Bucky had served with, and that the anniversary of his death was coming up. It hadn’t been an invitation, just a passing remark, but something about it stuck with you. Maybe it was the way Sam glanced at Bucky afterwards, concern hidden beneath his easygoing demeanour or the way Wanda’s expression darkened slightly like she’d been expecting it. You didn’t know anything about the man they were mourning, but you knew Bucky, and you knew the kind of grief that sat heavily on a person’s shoulders. Maybe you wanted to pay your respects. Perhaps you just wanted an excuse to get eyes on him, to see how bad the damage was. Either way, when Wanda and Sam left for the cemetery, you were in the car with them.

You stepped forward and crouched down, laying the flowers gently against the grave. The wind tugged at the petals as you stood, moving back beside Wanda, who sent you a glance but didn’t say a word.

Sam was the first to speak. “Damn, Steve. I hope you know we visit you even in the freezing fuckin’ cold.”

A small chuckle rumbled from Bucky’s chest, barely there. “Yeah.”

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. “You know, I think about that time in training when Bucky dared you to climb the roof of the barracks, and when you actually did it, Bucky nearly had a heart attack ‘cause you realised he’d have to go up there to get you down.”

Bucky huffed, shaking his head. “Idiot did a victory pose at the top. Almost fell straight off.”

Sam laughed. “Man, I wish we had taken a photo of you, dumbass.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, trading stories, some funny, some quiet and unspoken, shared only through small glances and nods. Wanda stood beside you, hands clasped in front of her, while you listened, letting them have their moment. She hadn’t known Steve either, just fragments of memories and stories Sam had told her over the years.

Eventually, the cold started to settle in deep, and Sam clapped his hands together. “Alright, I don’t know, but I think Steve would be personally offended if we froze our asses off standing here like idiots instead of heading home.”

Wanda nodded, already turning back toward the cars. You followed, but before you could take more than a few steps, Bucky spoke.

“I’ll take her home.”

The words were short, and clipped, but they made Wanda and Sam pause.

Sam lifted a brow, glancing between the two of you, then exchanged a look with Wanda, one of those unspoken conversations between lovers that didn’t need words.

But neither of them argued.

Sam just gave a small, knowing shrug and started toward his car. Wanda followed without a word, though you could’ve sworn the auburn gave you a subtle smirk.

You exhaled softly, then turned towards Bucky’s car.

The drive was quiet.

Outside, the world blurred past, fields and roads stretching under the grey sky. You kept your hands close to the vents, soaking in what little warmth the car offered, your fingers still stiff from the cold. Bucky’s grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles pale. He was wound up, his shoulders rigid, and his jaw locked. The muscles in his forearms twitched as he shifted gears, and every so often, he exhaled sharply like he was biting back something sharp.

Minutes passed, the ghost of unspoken words swirling between you.

Then, suddenly—

“Fuck this.” Bucky muttered the words under his breath, his grip on the wheel tightening before he jerked the car off the highway. The tyres crunched over gravel as he turned onto a narrow backroad leading toward a small, empty picnic area near a river. The place was deserted, picnic tables dusted with half-melted frost. Too cold for anyone to be out.

You sat there, the hum of the engine the only sound between you. The sky outside had darkened, clouds pressing down low on the horizon as the river lazily wound its way through the mist. Bucky’s hands gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his eyes fixed on the view outside. 

“How did you know about Steve?” The question left his lips quietly, almost like an afterthought, but it was sharp all the same.

“Sam.” You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. “I kind of put the pieces together. It’s his dog tags you wear, right?” Your voice came out soft but steady.

Bucky gave a single, sharp nod. “Yeah.”

You sighed, glancing out the window for a brief second. The weight in his voice, the way he carried it like an old wound, told you this was something fragile, something that had never quite healed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I just…” You trailed off, the words dying on your tongue, uncertain, too small for the grief that lingered between you. Your gaze flickered to his, but he wasn’t looking at you.

His voice, when it came again, was quieter than before. “Steve... Steve, he wasn’t just my friend. He was my partner.”

Something inside you stilled. The breath you’d been meaning to take got caught in your chest. “You were… together? Dating?”

“Yeah.” His voice wavered, unsteady in a way that made your stomach twist. “We were, uh, in love, I guess.”

The words hit you like a cold gust, Something in your mind clicked into place, pieces of him you hadn’t understood suddenly making sense. You stared at him, taking in the way his brows furrowed, the way the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes seemed more pronounced now, like he’d aged in the last few minutes.

“Did Sam know?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, jaw tight. “A few people did. His family, mine. A few friends.”

“I’m sorry.” You swallowed, trying to push past the lump forming in your throat. The words felt inadequate, almost meaningless. “I know my words don’t mean much or change anything, but I truly am sorry that you lost someone that important to you.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, the leather creaking beneath his hold. His eyes stayed locked on the river, but he wasn’t really seeing it. He was somewhere else.

Then, barely above a whisper, “He stood on a landmine.”

Bucky’s voice was rough, worn thin. “He was dead before… before he would have even realised he’d stepped on it. They never really recovered all of his body. He just kinda… turned into mist.”

You felt your stomach drop. A slow, creeping horror curled around your ribs, sinking its claws in deep. “You saw it?”

“Yeah.”

“Bucky, that’s horrific, I—”  You felt your words die in your throat. What was there to say? There was no comfort for something like that. No words that could make it hurt less.

Then, slowly, his head turned, an empty, haunted gaze meeting yours. “That coffin out there, it’s empty. We do this every year, but it’s like talking to the wind.”

The words were like a punch to the gut. You swallowed hard, your throat tight with the rawness of it. Slowly, you reached across the console, your fingers brushing against his arm. “He didn’t suffer.”

“No.” Bucky's voice broke for the first time. “No, I suppose I should be thankful for that.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away with a rough, almost impatient hand. But he didn’t pull away from your touch. Didn’t move to hide the way his hands shook, fingers still locked in a vice grip around the wheel.

You didn’t comment on it.

You kept your hand on his arm, a steady presence against the tension coiled beneath his skin. There was nothing to say—at least, nothing that would make any of it easier. He had already said enough, and you weren’t going to insult him by pretending there were magic words to fix it. So you simply stayed, grounding him in the quiet, hoping that maybe, just maybe, letting even a sliver of it out might lighten the weight he carried.

The silence stretched, thick but not uncomfortable, the kind that settled in the space between two people who understood each other without needing to fill the gaps with empty words. A sharp gust of wind rattled against the window, slipping through unseen cracks and sending a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t move. Neither did he.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours, raw, searching, like he was looking for something he wasn’t even sure existed. His throat bobbed, lips parting as he exhaled a slow, uneven breath. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked, taken aback. “For what?”

“How I’ve treated you these past few weeks.”

“Baby, you don’t need to apologise—”

“No, I do.” He interrupted tone tinged with frustration. “I… I realised that I cared for you. A lot. And it scared the shit out of me. After Steve, well, I swore I wouldn’t love again. I couldn’t… I couldn’t imagine going through that again. Or worse, if I died and left someone behind like that—”

You shook your head, cutting him off gently. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not though—” he began, but you interrupted him again, your voice calm, sure.

“I forgive you.”

Bucky went still, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. His jaw clenched, his eyes flicking between you and the river, as if weighing something in his mind.

A long, charged silence settled in. Then, just as you thought the moment would pass, he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You’re sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure.” You smiled softly. “Listen. I didn’t know Steve, and I never will but… if he cared for you. If he loved you, he’d want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you to shut yourself away from love, from feeling.”

“Honestly…” Bucky paused, sucking on his teeth. “Honestly, you’re probably right, doll.”

Bucky let out a slow breath, staring ahead like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

“I still don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice quiet. “Loving someone. Letting someone love me.”

You smiled softly, tilting your head. “Good thing I’m patient.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, that much is obvious.” Bucky glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, something unreadable flickering across his expression. Then, almost too softly to hear, “I want to try.”

You reached over, lacing your fingers through his. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

His grip tightened, just for a second like he was anchoring himself to you. And then, as if realising how ridiculous he sounded, he let out a low laugh, disbelief lacing his tone. “You’re too good for me, doll.”

“Hmm, maybe.” You giggled, leaning towards him, resting your forehead against his shoulder for a brief moment, letting the warmth between you settle. “I think I’ll stick around, though.”

“Yeah?” His voice held a tinge of uncertainty like he was testing the waters. His arm shifted, moving from the wheel to pull you closer to his side. “I haven’t scared you off?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, grinning. “I think you’d have to try a little harder to do that.”

He held you closer, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “So…” He paused, his breath hitching as if the words were caught in his throat. “Would you stick around… as my girlfriend?”

You jolted up, eyes widening in surprise. “Did the Bucky Barnes just ask me—”

“Shush, you.” He chuckled, cutting you off, his finger moving to gently press against your lips.

You smiled, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, and he tugged you in closer, his grip firm but not demanding. His lips found yours, slow at first, testing—like he was still convincing himself this was okay, that he could have this. But as you melted into him, your fingers curling against the fabric of his jacket, something shifted. His hand slid up your back, anchoring you against him, his lips warm, sure, moving against yours with a quiet intensity.

You sighed into him, your breath mingling with his, the space between you disappearing until there was nothing but the press of his body, the soft scrape of his stubble against your skin. His fingers skimmed the nape of your neck, tilting your head slightly, and he kissed you again, slower this time, savouring it like he wanted to memorise the way you felt against him.

The world outside blurred, the hum of the car engine distant, unimportant. There was only this, only him, his warmth, the quiet, desperate way he held you like he was afraid to let go.

When you pulled away, Bucky let out a sharp sigh as if something inside him had finally relaxed. “Thank god, it would be kind of awkward if you didn’t—”

You silenced him with another kiss, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

A spark reignited. 

[jscrawls]

Addams Anon from before here 👋 omg I gotta know how reader and John happened like??? Why'd they break up??? Author PLZ I need details 🙏

I wrote a one shot just for u anon 💜

Grave feelings

One shot (request) how'd you date HIM of all people?

🔹🔹🔹

“Alright, I've gotta ask the big question….. How'd you meet him? I can't exactly picture you in a dive bar.”

Dick swirled his drink around in his glass idly as he speaks up, interrupting your attempts at baby-talking Alfred the cat into jumping in your lap while you're all sitting around the dining room, those pouty lips curled into an unsure grimace as he hesitantly asks what's on everyone's mind.

You look away from the cat that's currently biting you to meet his eye unnervingly quickly, you grin broadly at him and the others around the table and lean on closer to rest your elbows on the old polished wood. Your own drink long-since forgotten in favor of pestering the Wayne's pets.

“Me and John? It was nothing too extravagant. a warm summer night, heat lightning and the smell of wine in the air, summoning circles in the backyard, it was as lovely as it was simple and straightforward.” You sigh, melancholic for simpler times, when you had more free time to devote to your dark lords in their pursuit of the dark conquests.

Cass mimics your pose and leans forward on her elbows, dark brows drawn together tightly as she stares you down. “He showed up when you summoned something?”

Her head tilts like a curious cat, eyeing you with genuine curiosity instead of the slightly uncomfortable looks the others give you.

Jason avoids your form entirely as he nurses his drink, choosing to scowl at the wall or pull on the strings of the tablecloth just so he doesn't look like he's listening, he's still willingly sitting at the table though.

“No, it was more the other way around actually! I was in the middle of conversing with this lovely little imp when John summoned the very same one, things happened and I found myself in a different summoning circle looking at a blonde British man. Things just progressed from there.”

Dick hums into his drink distractedly as he leans back in his chair, like Cass he's studying you closely. Though he looks more concerned than curious.

Bruce sighs exasperatedly from the head of the table and leans his head against his fist, giving you a disapproving look. “Constantine accidentally summoned you and somehow you two wound up together? You don't even shock me anymore.”

Barbara looks more interested though and clears her throat to get your attention before you can respond to Bruce. “ahem, I'd like to know why you two ended things then….. You two broke up right?”

Jason and Bruce both shoot her a look but she ignores it, she crosses her arms over her chest and a near-smug smirk stretches her lips when you look at her and grin even wider.

“Things did end, yes. You could say the spark died when he changed…. Things weren't the same so I ended it.” You glance down at your lap and sigh, and for just a moment everyone around the table feels bad for bringing up the topic.

After a moment Jason is the one to break the silence, he carefully chooses his words while sneaking curious glances in your direction.

“…. How'd things change? Was he more of a dick than Dickie here or something.”

Dick leans over in his chair to elbow him in the side, whether it was for the insensitive timing or the name joke is unclear because you answer him anyways.

“I wouldn't say that, it was just…. He acted different around me when he found out I wasn't a demon from hell…. No more blood offerings to me, he'd call me on the phone instead of through circles, He wouldn't even use his moon blade on me anymore. The romance died for me. Sometimes things aren't meant to work out I suppose.”

They all seem to collectively scowl at you when they hear the whole story from your own lips. What is wrong with you??

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: hope you like this anon! 🖤💜🖤

[creedslove]

WHO KNEW? 💍💔 - PART TWO

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

"You took my hand, you showed me how

You promised me you'd be around (...)

I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me (...)

If someone said three years from now, you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out, 'cause they're all wrong

I know better, 'cause you said forever, and ever, who knew?"

Summary: even against your wishes, your bond with the Millers straightens and a series of events causes you and Joel to get closer, enough to spike the fear of falling again for him

• This is the second part of Who Knew? 💍💔 Which was also inspired by this amazing HEADCANON request

Warnings: angst, broken hearts, mentions of divorce, mentions of infidelity, fluff, age gap (Joel is four to five years older than reader and the time skip is 12 to 14 years (Sarah's age) but feel free to imagine whatever you want), house breaking, protective Joel, sexual tension

A/N: so besties, I've been obsessed with this idea, and I hope you enjoy it as well! I mean, I've been writing a little more than 1k words a day, there were some parts I thought were good and some were not so good, as a final result, I don't know, I really hope you all enjoy it my lovelies! It's so hard to resist Joel, isn't it?

10.4k words

If someone told you one day, after a decade of being divorced from Joel due to the huge heartbreak he put you through, your bond with the Millers would straighten once more, you would stand up and punch them out. It was so ridiculously absurd to think you would become closer to the man who chewed you up and spat you out and even if he had indeed changed and was a better person, wasn't enough to make you forget what happened. Yes, you had forgiven him, but not forgotten what went on between the two of you, and even if a part of you desperately begged you to stay away and never talk to Joel again, destiny was pretty ironic at its doings and made you and his daughter, Sarah, become friends. You didn't mean to, and you were sure that if it were up to him, he wouldn't have said yes either, but you never knew she was his daughter and he never knew his daughter's friend was… well, you.

After he did some working at your home, he had asked you out, which you actually considered, but then dismissed the idea completely, there was no way you would put yourself through that again, even if he was even more handsome than when he was young, even if he did make your heart race and pound like you were some inexperienced teenager and even if late at night before falling asleep you closed your eyes and replayed in your mind the last kiss you cherished. Even if you focused hard enough and could still feel his warmth, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist, the way his beard that now was sprinkled with grays here and there scratched your skin and how Joel Miller still had the best kiss you'd ever tried. For a moment it had felt so right, even if it was wrong, and a hidden part of you, the part that just maybe didn't despise Joel that much often allowed you to wonder what would actually happen if you had given him a chance to take you out, would it have been really that bad? You would've gone somewhere to drink or grab something to eat, hang out, perhaps even dance and of course you would end up in Joel's bed, hardly any woman would pass up this opportunity. For a moment you wish it could've been that way, but unfortunately, you and Joel were done. After you turned him down you still shared a last kiss and then you both went back to your own lives, the only thing that connected the two of you in the past was the failed marriage you had just as the only thing that connected the two of you in the present was Sarah.

She was the loveliest girl you'd ever met in your life, so smart and sweet, always kind to everyone, responsible and even if you had had problems with her dad, you couldn't help but feel sorry for her and the fact her own mother didn't want to be around; it sounded crazy to you that woman could give up her chance of being the mother of a wonderful little girl like Sarah, even if Joel had killed any kind of desire of getting involved with someone to the point of building up a family. Not to mention Joel himself, he was a handsome, hard-working man, and he had been a good husband before Angela ruined your life. You knew she wasn't the only one to blame, Joel was a real dick, but now you certainly had two reasons to hate her: the fact she ruined your marriage and that she abandoned her daughter.

After Joel took over the renovations in your home, Sarah continued coming over and even if you felt sort of guilty from keeping the truth from her, you also knew it wasn't your place to tell her, if anything, you and Joel needed to do it together. You couldn't ruin the perfect image she had of her dad, because he was a great father to her and no one could deny that. Overall, you really enjoyed her presence; it wasn't uncommon for her to tag along during lunch time or spend the afternoon reading on your couch. Sometimes you wondered if she didn't have enough friends to hang out with, after all, Joel was busy throughout the day and any teen would take the opportunity of freedom to do whatever shit they wanted with them without having to give their parents the time of the day, but that didn't make any sense, not with Sarah being a sociable girl like she was, so when the realization that she sort of envisioned you as a motherly figure at some level, you felt quite shocked. If life hadn't pulled some unfunny tricks along your way, she could've easily been yours and Joel's daughter. You tried to shake it off and pretend she didn't see you that way, but looking back at your interactions it was undeniable; Sarah opened up to you about things she certainly didn't with Joel, from the pain of periods, to problems with girl friends and boys. It was amusing until Sarah began questioning you about it, asking you about your love life, past relationships and why you were single. You felt bad about not telling her the whole truth, but it was a complicated situation. Especially when she came up with the idea she really considered it to be genius

"Why don't you date my dad?!"

She asked you one lazy afternoon, making you choke softly at the water you were drinking, looking at her shocked and speechless for a while, her sweet smile was impossible to make you get mad at her, and above all it was a genuine question, she wasn't just messing with you.

"What?! My dad looks good, he works hard and he would make you very happy!" She cheered innocently, which caused your heart to sink.

"No… I wouldn't date your dad, he's incompatible… I mean, we are incompatible, I'm sure we wouldn't get along"

"Why?! Is it because you have more money than us? Dad does say you are way out of his league"

And you were shocked and speechless once more. Joel had talked about you to Sarah? And he had told her you were out of his league? This information should have made you scoff and roll your eyes, and not make your cheeks heat up while you blushed.

"No Sarah, Jesus no! It's got nothing to do with money or anything… I mean, your dad works hard and he should earn more than he does, because he is very dedicated and well, an honest working man like Joel can be worth a lot more than a rich guy, trust me" you sighed as she stared at you intently "but the thing is… I've been married once, I was too young, it was disastrous, it didn't work obviously, I got hurt and well… your dad sort of reminds me of him, my ex-husband I mean… It's hard to explain, but no, I wouldn't date your father"

You hated that you lied to her, well, half lies at least, but you wished you could be honest, Sarah was an important part of your life and it would be a lot easier if you three would come clean about everything that happened; on the other hand, you couldn't even imagine the mess you would make in her poor little head, as it was pretty messy and fucked up for you as well whenever you stopped to think you were friends with your ex-husband's daughter, the one he had with the woman he cheated on you with and that simply walked out and abandoned him. It even sounded made up, so you offered her just the piece of information you could. Sarah reached out to you, taking your hand in hers and caressing your knuckles, she gave you a sympathetic look and nodded

"I'm so sorry… I can't even imagine how you must feel, he didn't deserve you anyway, you can be sure you are way better than him, and well, I am just glad dad isn't like that, he's a nice guy, he would never do such a thing to anyone. I just feel like he deserved more too, you know? That woman… my mom, even if she shouldn't be called that, just broke his heart and disappeared. Uncle Tommy told me she never really wanted to have me in the first place and if it weren't for dad, you know…" She looked down trying to hide the thick sadness that fogged her face and it was your turn to reach to her, taking her hand, but seeing it wasn't enough as you got up and walked to Sarah, giving her a hug.

"I don't know, I just wish dad would find a nice girl like yourself and then he could be happy, I mean, we all could…"

•••

Joel groaned at how annoying his brother really was, he didn't get why Tommy would always pry into his fucking business instead of handling his own life, Joel was a grown man and he didn't need anyone trying to set him up with women or just inviting him out out of pity. He could take care of himself; he didn't need to meet women or be in a relationship, he was fine the way he was, his life was already way too hectic the way it was, whenever he felt lonely he could just pick up some woman at a bar and get laid and then go back to his everyday routine. And yet both Tommy and Sarah kept on getting on his nerves, always suggesting him to one girl or another or trying to drag him on double dates. When Sarah had casually told him to ask you out, completely oblivious to the fact he had already done it and you shut him out, Joel was at a loss of words, he tried playing cool but he couldn't deny the mess his feelings had become. He wasn't sure how to suppress them, not after that one kiss. That must've meant something, you wouldn't just give him a speech of how uninterested you were and how you two would never work out again and then kiss him like that, you probably still had feelings for him, if not feelings, at least desire, and as much as he would love to act on it, he didn't want to force things up, to he pushy and make you uncomfortable. He'd hurt you too many times to learn that if you'd asked him to stay away, he should stay away. Not only that, Tommy was completely onboard with everything you had said, to him, the fact Joel was crushing on his ex-wife more than a decade after breaking her heart was a clear sign of madness. He figured Joel still had feelings for you, even if Tommy wasn't one to settle down, he couldn't understand how his brother went from madly in love with his pretty young wife to a terrible husband and finally the asshole who dumped her for another woman. He knew that the passion Joel felt for Angela was strong, but even more than just a burning passion, lay that undying love he'd felt for you, and he was sure it wouldn't simply go away, which didn't necessarily mean that Joel surrendering to that love was a smart move. Quite the opposite, it was probably the dumbest thing Tommy had ever heard in his entire life. How could Joel even keep any hopes of getting with you again?! It hadn't worked, too many people got hurt and all he wanted was that his brother could actually see that, so he simply discouraged Joel from getting anywhere near you, as if it wasn't bad enough Sarah had been dragged accidentally into this story, he didn't want his brother suffering around. So he set his brother up on a date, something that Joel hated with passion but since he was feeling particularly hopeless that night he ended up accepting it.

He was usually very against being set up on blind dates, but Joel had created a depressing ritual of always going out and grabbing a drink whenever he came across the date that would've marked his wedding anniversary with you. Joel often heard men were forgetful and didn't remember important dates, but he had never been like that, always keeping the important dates fresh in his mind was something common, ever since he was a child, especially when they brought him strong emotions, such as the ones he shared with you. He thought it was a little stupid at first, but he found out that it helped him cope with the guilt and the doubts that always clouded up his mind. He would sit at a bar and wonder where you could be, how your life would have been like and if you ever thought of him. It sort of became his thing, but this year, for the first time, he knew the exact answers to his questions, and it was so odd, he decided to take Tommy's suggestions to go out with a friend of his brother's girlfriend, he didn't really care nor paid attention, he just exchanged numbers with her, showered and got dressed after work and headed for the restaurant.

And just as he had predicted, it had been another disastrous date. Not that the girl wasn't pretty, she was, but she was just exhausting; her conversation was tiring, her subjects were boring and overall, she just wasn't you. Joel didn't understand why he was having it so bad for you, he knew he shouldn't, he should forget about it all and focus on something else, but as much as he tried not to think of you, more he thought of you. It was maddening. He couldn't help himself but compare the two of you: you were prettier, smarter, funnier, you dressed and smelled better than that random stranger he saw himself being forced to have dinner with. And he wished with all his heart you could be on that date with him; if only you gave him just one chance to show you he was a better man, he would never hurt you like he did before, give you a chance to redeem himself and make you happy exactly the way you deserved it, he would be the happiest man in the world. Life wasn't gonna make things easier for him, and deep down, he knew he didn't even deserve it in the first place, so he tried once more paying attention to his date, which didn't last very long and the moment he saw the opportunity to leave, he grabbed it like a life preserver in the middle of the ocean and headed to a bar - alone, and only after paying for the check, after all, Joel Miller was still a gentleman.

Your wedding anniversary had always been a tricky date for you; there were years you went completely unaffected by it and years you felt like dying. For the first time, however, you were closer to Joel than you'd always been in the years before, and because of that, you decided you deserved better than just stay home and have some bland dinner by yourself, you would go out and perhaps meet other people… And your plan went really smoothly for a while; you got to a nice bar, dressed nicely, dragging some male attention towards you and even got paid a drink by a handsome stranger who waved from afar. It felt like a promising night, until Joel Miller walked in and looked for a table, and he looked devilish handsome as he did so. You bit your lips feeling the alcohol rushing towards one direction at the same time you censored yourself: no matter how lonely and needy you were feeling nor how handsome he was, you couldn't simply feel the hots for him. As if he'd just read your mind, Joel turned around, his eyes falling right on you, his gaze softened up and you saw him running his tongue through his lips, deciding whether or not to walk towards you.

Of course he did it.

The moment he approached, Joel noticed the sadness in your eyes and he was sure you were the for the exact same reason he was, and it was just another motive to get closer to you; taking the chair next to you, he asked the bartender for a drink and as soon as he had it in hands, he stared at you.

"Happy wedding anniversary, darling" he tilted his glass against yours, as you just nodded and took a long sip.

"Happy wedding anniversary, handsome" you replied in a mockery tone using the old nickname you used for him. Handsome was a word that really described him, your Joel. He had always been a handsome man, but how well time treated him was impressive to say the least. He looked so good, he was bigger, broad and stronger. His dark hair had become a little grayer, just like a few patches all over his beard, and that suited him like a damn velvet glove. The way his shirt hung tight around his shoulders and down his arms, eyes lingering on him for way too long, as a warmth spread through your cheek and Joel chuckled

"Funny how you still blush when I'm around… Exactly like old times" he grinned and took another sip of his drink, which was enough to break you free from the spell you were under.

"What are you doing here? I thought I'd made myself pretty clear, Joel" you sighed and stared down into your glass.

"I'm doing the same as you are, darling… I'm thinking about all the bad decisions I made in life. You have been pretty clear, I ain't going to bother you, but I just missed you… it's so weird to see Sarah getting home everyday so excited over you, talking about how nice and awesome you are and I have to pretend not to know about it"

"Yeah? And you think it's easy for me to spend the whole afternoon listening to her talking about what an amazing dad you are? How you are awesome but very unlucky to have had your heartbroken by her mom?" You raised your eyebrow and chuckled

"She really say that?" Joel's expression showed a slight shock "she said I was an amazing dad?!"

You tilted your head at his surprise and bit your lips, perhaps it was just the drinks you had that softened you up a little, but when you saw it, you placed your hand on his arm and shook your head

"Yeah? Why are you so surprised? You are an amazing dad, Joel… that girl loves you more than anything in the world, she idolizes you, of course, she thinks you work too much and that you could both spend some more time together, but other than that, it's clear you are a great father. I was very surprised when we met again, to see your change, I never really thought you would become a better person, not after what happened, but it's nice to see Sarah changed that" you smiled softly at him, and that just melted Joel's rough heart, he immediately took your hand before you could move it away and caressed your knuckles softly, his gaze still making you pathetically shy, as he pursed his lips and you remembered how good they've always felt on your own and also all over your body.

"You know she also sees you as a mother figure, right?!"

"Yeah, I was reluctant to admit it at first, but she does… I guess she needed that, you know? A woman she could talk to about girl stuff, things she cannot talk to her dad or her uncle Tommy" you smiled "I really like Sarah and I'm very glad you allow us to be friends, I understand it is a really odd situation for you, as it is for me, but I like her a lot… you know, if things had been different, she could've been my daughter… our daughter" you sighed "things could've been different Joel… you know what made so hard for me to forgive you? It's not exactly you falling for Angela, of course, rejection hurts a lot, but sometimes it happens, sometimes you fall for someone you shouldn't have, but what still breaks my heart is that you lied to me, you played with me instead of coming clean. You just kept me around even if you didn't want me anymore, so just you would have a comfortable option in case it didn't work with her, and that was what made me feel worse… it made me feel unworthy, because you could still have been considerate of me and just break things up before it all happened" you shrugged

"Darling, I-" he squeezed your hand tighter but you pulled it away

"I'm not trying to make you upset or anything, all I am saying is that things could have been different between us, they should have been at least, if not staying married, having a child and building a family together, then at least having your honesty…"

"What can I do so you forgive me?" Joel asked, his voice breaking a little as he tried to hide the emotion growing at any minute.

"I've already forgiven you Joel, I already told you that… but I can't forget what happened, it will always haunt me" you sighed "too many things happened and as much as I had loved you, I think I would never be able to trust you"

"Please, I have changed, it kills me to know I've hurt you so much, I wish I could go back in time and undo everything that I did.. please, darling" Joel begged you with those brown soft eyes, his hand cupping your cheek in a warm caress and even if you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch for a while, you knew you couldn't let yourself fall into his touch, because if you did, there would be no turning back.

"If Angela returned today, Joel… imagine if she came back and tried claiming you and Sarah, would you still care about me? Because I don't see this happening, Joel. Honestly, what I think is that you want me because you feel bad about what happened and because you couldn't have who you really wanted…"

His expression was indecipherable and for a second you thought he would say something, but all he did was pull you closer, gluing your lips together in an urgent kiss, you could've fought it, but you didn't; instead, you kissed him back, taking your hands into his curls and tugging at them more and more each time Joel pulled you even closer.

Only when the two of you broke the kiss, he looked into your eyes, his thumb stroking your bottom lip gently

"There isn't anyone I want but you, I never stopped loving you, darling… even when Angela was around, she couldn't compare to you" his words shattered your heart, as much as you wanted to believe that, you still couldn't. You grabbed his hand and sighed

"Don't do this again, Joel, please. You've ruined too many things for me already…" you got up and said goodbye "we can't, you know it"

"What have I ruined for you, darling? Tell me and I'll fix it, please"

You chuckled sad and shrugged

"Joel, you even ruined Queen for me'

You walked away from him, leaving him there with his drink and his thoughts, a puzzled look out of confusion in his face trying to figure out exactly what the hell you meant by that. Just as he saw you disappear out of the door, he realized what meant as he paid attention to the lyrics of the song playing in background:

"Love of my life, you hurt me

You've broken my heart

And now you leave me

Love of my life, can't you see (...)"

And even if Joel wanted to be rational and convince himself he'd lost you for good, his heart still insisted on wanting what he couldn't have.

•••

Your car parked in Joel's driveway was the last thing he expected to see that night, after working excruciatingly and failing his promise of getting home earlier to have dinner with his daughter. He knew Sarah was probably waiting, disappointed but also used to it, full of having some sandwich or any other snack she could find. He cursed himself for getting so caught up at work, he didn't mean to, but he had done it again, after all, he had to attend an important meeting with a possible new client and then he would need to wait for the arrival of a bunch of materials that had been delayed for weeks, and even if he knew his daughter was safe with you, he still felt upset to have not given her the attention she needed. However, you had never been to his house before, that was something that you established from the very beginning and when he kissed you at the bar a couple of weeks ago, Joel was certain that was the end of seeing you, occasionally or not. He was sure you'd never shut Sarah out, you liked her for real, and she reciprocated the feelings; besides, you were a decent enough human being who knew you didn't have to mix things up. So, the fact you were indeed at his home, was concerning to him, who parked and immediately left, getting inside wanting to see what was going on. The moment the door opened in one hard swing, you got off the couch and walked to your ex-husband

“Hey Joel” you said, a little shy, suddenly, the fact you were standing in the middle of his home uninvited made you extremely embarrassed, as it felt you were somehow intruding on his intimacy. Since the divorce Joel had moved into a new house, bigger and cozier, a nice backyard with a decent swimming pool was something that drew your attention; you smiled at yourself, knowing how much Joel loved swimming, so it made your heart warm to see he had accomplished something that seemed quite small, but it meant a lot to you.

At first, when you saw the house, you couldn't help but be invaded by a furious jealousy of the possibility Joel had built that house for her, Angela, instead of you. Luckily, Sarah clarified he only started to build it when she was a toddler and that Tommy helped him, and that's why he often crashed there. You chuckled to yourself, that was typical of Tommy, but overall you felt proud of Joel and everything he achieved, you knew he had potential and it was great that he actually worked on it.

“Where's Sarah?!” He asked with worry and called her name once more, louder this time, frowning as you shushed him.

“I'm sorry I'm here, but she had a fever felt sick, I wanted to call you but she asked me not to an-” you were cut off by Joel simply climbing up the stairs and heading straight to Sarah's room, he felt a mix of guilt and worry weighing in his heart at the fact his baby daughter was sick and he couldn't be there for her. He barged into her room, normally, that would be enough to startle her, but instead, he found her peacefully asleep, clung tight to her pillow, dressed in her regular PJs. He touched her forehead wanting to check her temperature, but luckily her skin wasn't warm anymore. He looked at the door and found you there, arms folded and looking like you wanted to say something else, and then he just realized how rude he'd actually been to you by simply walking away and letting you talk to a brick wall. He placed a gentle kiss on his daughter's forehead and closed the door behind him.

“I'm sorry darling, I was worried and you should've called me…”

“It's okay, Joel… as I was saying, I wanted to call you, but Sarah asked me not to, she said you were having an important meeting and you would be home soon, anyway” you licked your lips as you realized he was extremely late and probably feeling so guilty about it all.

“You know, she was at my place and she was feeling a little down, at first I thought she was just upset because she wasn't invited to Melissa's party an-”

“That girl is a bitch” Joel said angrily and in such a defensive way that it was both cute he was so protective of his daughter at the same time it sounded hilarious to see him cursing another teenage girl. However, you had to agree with him, Melissa was indeed a bitch.

“Yeah, I know right?! Anyway, I noticed Sarah was burning up with fever and since she didn't want me to call you, I decided to bring her home and stay with her. So I asked her to take a cool shower, gave her some tylenol and made her some chicken soup with the things I found in your kitchen…” you both went downstairs and stopped in his living room. You tried not paying attention to how good your ex-husband looked after his long hour shift; his sweaty shirt so tight against his broad chest, his messy hair and that stressed attitude that would always melt away with a very intense orgasm.

“You made soup?!” Joel frowned a little shocked and interrupted your drifting thoughts.

“Y-yeah, why? Did I do bad?”

“No” Joel smiled softly and shook his head “not at all, it's just that… I haven't had your food in so long and you've always been a good cook, that's all” the nostalgia he felt was so big and it also warmed your heart, nodding at him “well, I made some more in case you wanted to have dinner too, it's in the kitchen, you can help yourself if you'd like…” you offered him and grabbed your purse “can you call me tomorrow and let me know if Sarah is better?”

Joel grabbed your arm gently and shook his head

“Don't go, not yet… just have dinner with me, talk to me for a while, I promise I won't try to kiss you or anything. Just keep me company, it's rare to have people over, it's usually Sarah and I and usually Tommy, but when they are out, it's just me” he looked at you with a sad expression, and you understood perfectly: loneliness.

Coming back home to an empty bed at night. Not having anyone to rely on, to hold, to give you support and affection, to make love. So you nodded and smiled at him, sitting down with him at the table and grabbed yourself a plate, giggling at how hungry he really was, eating as if he hadn't seen food in months. He raised his eyes at you and stopped chewing, blushing as you wouldn't stop staring.

“You know, you and Sarah have the same sad puppy eyes when you are sick?!” Joel raised his eyebrow at you and you laughed softly “same red teary eyes, sniffing as someone takes care of you, it's actually adorable”

“You think I'm adorable?!”

“Adorable isn't exactly what you are Joel…” you said letting your eyes wandering all over him and having your ex-husband to smirk at you

“Yeah? You think I'm attractive?”

“You know you are attractive, Joel, now shut up and eat” you frowned softly and had dinner with him; it was a pleasant moment, spending some time together, without any talks about the divorce or the past, just two old acquaintances who perhaps had some kind of feelings for each other and shared a meal together. There weren't accusations, apologies or tears, just mundane, regular conversations and laughter. It was nice to have that moment with Joel, as you both progressed in a conversation about your lives and how things had changed over the years, truly catching up instead of arguing. When the subjected revolved around Sarah again, your ex-husband couldn't contain his curiosity anymore:

“You never wanted kids, darling?”

You looked down at your empty plate, a glimmer of sadness crossing your eyes as you shook your head and stared at him

“Not after you, Joel… I used to want a kid, before, when we were together, but not anymore. I feel it's too late for me now, even if I'm still young, it just feels impossible, you know?”

Joel's hand rested on top of yours, he caressed it very gently and looked at you. He sighed knowing exactly what you meant, knowing you actually meant having a baby together and of course he blew it once more. He couldn't even describe the remorse he felt, even if you had spent the past half an hour having a rare moment of bliss tougher, he knew he would never be able to erase what had happened between the two of you. He wished he had a chance to do so, but deep inside, even if he did, he knew the damage had been done.

“It's alright, Joel…” you said shyly and got up as you picked the plates and piled them in the sink, he immediately walked to you,

“Let me handle the dishes, it's the least I can do, you know… after you took care of my daughter and cooked for us. I'm sure Sarah loved it, we aren't used to having homemade food” he chuckled as you nodded

“Yeah, I figured, that's why I decided to make something else…” you said as you walked to the oven and opened it, showing Joel the freshly baked batch of chocolate chips cookies. He widened his eyes like a child and smiled big.

“This is your favorite, I figured it was Sarah's as well” you said sweetly and got the tray out of the oven, although you mumbled something a couple of times, Joel hadn't replied to you, as he kept washing the plates without interruption. You didn't get why he ignored your question, it made no sense; just a few minutes ago you were both having a nice, sweet time together and suddenly he wasn't going to say anything? That was odd. You placed the cookies on the balcony and called him again, to which you got no reply so you just shook his arm a little calling him again.

He turned around and watched you

“What is it?” He asked with a sweet smile, making you even more confused

“I called you a couple of times and you didn't say anything… is everything alright with you?” And at that question his face fell and it was impossible for Joel to hide his sadness. He licked his lips and nodded

“Yeah… it's just that… I'm kinda deaf in my right ear” he blushed and looked down in shame “I had a work accident some years ago and something blew up when I stood too close to it and well…” he shrugged and you felt your heart sink. Your poor Joel, always such a hardworking man, despite everything between you both, you never wanted him to be that injured. It saddened you to see how ashamed he seemed of it, even if he had no reason to be ashamed of it at all, and suddenly it made all sense to you why he was always subtly tilting his head to the left or standing towards that direction when he talked to you.

“I can hear it just fine, got used to it by now, but if you mumble something on my right it's kinda hard to me” the simple and even innocent way he said that made you so sympathetic of him, but it was way more than just that. It made you want to hold him, to assure him it was fine and he was still nothing but perfect no matter what had happened.

“Oh Joel…” you whispered and held his head in both of your hands, gently, your fingers brushing against his thick beard as you got closer and rested your forehead against his “I'm so sorry honey” you whispered again and closed your eyes. He was determined to respect you and not get handsy with you, but the moment he saw you pulling him closer, he couldn't help doing the same; gripping your waist with large hands, just like he used to, exactly where they fit so well, he brought your bodies close together.

“Don't go, please… stay” he whispered back, his lips were almost on yours, everything felt so right at that moment even if it was wrong. You hated how it felt like playing with fire: it seemed beautiful and appealing but you would get burned no matter what.

“I'm sorry, you know I can't” you said, moving your lips just an inch further and connecting with his, earning a hungry kiss.

For someone who desperately wanted to keep away from their ex-husband, you were certainly doing a shitty job. He needed you as much as you needed him, you both wanted each other, but you broke the kiss. It couldn't happen, your relationship was as complicated as it was and you didn't want to deal with that responsibility later. His heavy breathing lingered on your skin, at the same time he placed a soft peck on your neck, knowing all your sweet spots, that devilish man Joel Miller was.

“You know you can call me, right? Anything you need, anything at all, just call me and I'll come running to you, darling, don't forget that” he whispered into your ear and more than a seducing invitation, it was a plea, from a hopelessly man in love who didn't know what to do to prove his worth.

•••

Joel's offer to call him whenever you needed was so tempting, because you didn't actually need to call him, but you wanted to. It made no sense, you were the one who wanted to keep your distance from him, but due to the latest events you found yourself wanting to see Joel each time more, just the thought of his presence brought you an excitement you tried not reading too much into it; you didn't want to admit you were crushing on your ex-husband, but then, how could you call the fact your heart raced when you saw him? How you blushed and felt sparkles whenever you touched him briefly - accidentally or not? It was tricky, it was a mess but it seemed Joel made you lose that filter that always kept you emotionally distant from everyone. After learning Sarah was alright, you felt relieved for her, and when she stopped by your home and thanked you for taking care of her, you felt that familiar warmth in your heart. It seemed the more your rational part fought for you to stay away, that you had been severely hurt by Joel and you couldn't afford giving him a chance to do the same for the second time, but your irrational side? The one driven by your feelings and desires?! That one only made you dive deeper into the Millers household. Your feelings for Sarah just grew, you were attached to her and she was attached to you, she found in you the female influence it lacked for years and she represented something you never had but wished you could. And her dad was something else… ever since that evening you spent together, having dinner, chatting and enjoying each other's company, Joel had told you you could call him anytime for any reason. It didn't matter if you wanted to talk, hang out or have him fix something at your place, he was at your will.

And then you weren't certain if your faucet was really leaking, or if your door was actually warped or if all of that had to do with the fact you were looking for an excuse to call Joel and see him. You didn't want to hire him and you didn't want to discuss feelings, talk about the past or hear all sorts of apologies, you wanted to have a nice, pleasant moment with him, just like you had the last time. It felt so familiar and yet so new; it was about the two of you being acquaintances but at the same time meeting each other, your older, more mature versions finally getting together and hitting off. That was the kind of interaction you wanted from Joel.

You just didn't know exactly how to initiate it, not without giving him any kind of hope or leading him into it.

So you decided to focus on work, like you'd been doing for over a decade. You liked your job, it was stressful as any other job in the world and the money was great. However, you had got so comfortable and used to working from home, the days you were forced to actually go to the office felt excruciating, but it was part of the deal and you had to do it. So you got up, got ready - not without texting Sarah to let her know you wouldn't be home that day - and went to do your business. It was also when you noticed something was wrong. You didn't know the car that was parked across the street, it was a little odd, as you got used to all your neighbors and it was such a calm neighborhood you simply noticed when there was someone from outside. Still, you shrugged and got into your own car, driving to work.

On your way back, all you wanted was a cool shower and some relaxing hours scattered on the couch, but you tensed up a bit when you spotted the same car you did in the morning still there. It had nothing indicating trouble, and yet, you had a gut feeling telling you it simply wasn't right, however, there was nothing you could really do about it. You thought of calling Joel, but you didn't want to risk sounding paranoid and overall crazy. What could you tell him?! That there was a car parked across the street?!

You groaned when you checked your email and saw you would have to attend a meeting at work in person the next day. You were so sure you'd solved everything up, so why would you have to go? It was probably one of those meetings that could be just a work email and it annoyed you to no end, but still, you had no other option other than attending so the next morning you were there, getting ready when you spotted the same car. You had no idea if it had spent the whole night there or if it had gotten there before you woke up, nonetheless, you were taken by the same feeling you did the day before, no matter if they were irrational or not, it was just overwhelming. After another day at work, you returned home and sighed relieved to see the car wasn't there. Maybe it had been just a paranoid episode, perhaps you were just reading too much into things and all the stress from work combined with your situation with Joel made you lose your grip on reality a little bit.

The fact was that after doing your regular house things, you decided to take a relaxing bath and sink yourself into your tub. Selecting the perfect bath bomb and adjusting the temperature, you got inside, groaning at how the warm water made your tense muscles relax and you could feel the knots undoing themselves; as you closed your eyes and relaxed, there was nothing clouding up your mind but Joel.

His handsome face, his smile, his curly graying hair. He was your Joel, but older, mode handsome, if that was even a thing, because Joel was definitely the most handsome man you'd ever met. You couldn't help yourself but picture him wrapping his strong arms around your body, perhaps a relaxing bath with Joel would feel so good, you wouldn't be able to to turn it down. Just to imagine his naked body holding yours was enough to spike so many things all over you. You didn't know if you'd ended up dozing off in the tub, but it was hard to say if any time had passed or not the moment you heard some noises around your house. You couldn't remember if you'd forgotten your TV on or something like that, you were sure you hadn't turned on the radio, but it was enough to feel goosebumps all over your skin. You left the tub, drying yourself as quick as possible and wrapping a bathrobe around your body, exiting the room as silently as you could, hearing whispering and steps all over the lower floor. You went to your room and looked outside the window, your heart racing the moment you spotted the same car you'd seen before. You didn't know what to do, you could feel the suffocating wave of anxiety taking over completely. You could hear their voices, because apparently there was more than one guy. They were robbing your home, but what would happen if they reached you? You immediately locked your bedroom door, so relieved to see your phone was thrown onto the bed. Grabbing it, you dialed the number you'd never forgotten.

•••

“Come on, darling, open up” Joel's voice was the first thing you registered after you made the call, hugged yourself against a corner of your room and closed your eyes. You had heard footsteps climbing the stairs and how the thieves banged on your door, but you remained as quiet as you could. Just praying someone would show up to save you. You'd called Joel and he called the cops on his way over, he had dropped everything he was doing when he heard the raw fear in your voice. It was horrible you had your home broken into, but it made it even worse to think of what two criminals could do with such a beautiful woman like yourself. So he grabbed Tommy and they both rushed towards your place. Arriving there almost at the same time as the cops did, finding your front door busted open and a lot of valuable things such as your TV and your laptop gone. He had a baseball bat in hands, ready to attack whoever threatened your physical integrity and when he got questioning looks from the cop, he cleared his throat and explained he was your ex-husband - and friend.

“Is that really you, Joel?” You asked in a little more than a whisper, so glad to know he was there. You walked to the door and unlocked it, seeing Joel's worried eyes scanning you to make sure you were unharmed. Only then, you realized you hadn't gotten dressed, still wrapped in your bathrobe, but it didn't matter, all you could think of was looking for shelter into his strong, safe arms, sinking your face into his chest at the same time Joel caressed your back up and down, his lips planted a kiss on top of your head and another one on your forehead, wanting to soothe you and show you how safe you were from now on. He was there for you, it wouldn't absolve him from what he'd done in the past, but that didn't even matter to you or Joel, the important thing was that he was there, he came as fast as he could only for you and he would do it a thousand times more if necessary; you both knew that.

“I got you, baby girl, I got you” Joel cooed at you, tightening the hug around your body and keeping you closer. And you had missed that embrace, you just belonged in it, and you never wanted to let go.

Joel held you through the whole process of talking to the cops, informing them about the strange car that was seen around your home and also listing every item they stole: your TV, an iPad, your laptop and your car. Even if you were safe among them, you couldn't help but feel that nervous, anxious feeling at the very possibility of being alone at home once more. Nothing happened in the end, but it could have happened, and though it sucked to have been robbed of so much valuable stuff, you weren't harmed, and that was what mattered the most to you and above all, Joel.

As the cops talked to Joel and assured they'd get in touch if any of it was found, he walked them to the door and turned back to you, finding you all shy and scared, hugging yourself and looking at him with sad eyes. You didn't want to be alone and you didn't want to have to ask him for company, you didn't want to sound whiny or pathetic, especially not after it was just a break-in without any physical damage.

“Come on, pack your bags and I'll take you home with me” Joel's voice broke the silence and made you stare at him surprised “it can be for a few days, but if you aren't comfortable with that, then let me take you at least for the night, I ain't leaving you alone. Sarah's out at her friends in a slumber party or something, you can take her bed, or mine and I'll sleep on the couch, it doesn't matter, just come…” he extended his hand to you, which you gladly took it, and made his way upstairs, waiting patiently as you grabbed a backpack and shoved a few clothes and accessories you would need. You couldn't even describe how you felt at Joel's kindness. You were so comforted, so glad to see you weren't alone and that he was willing to take care and protect you. It didn't take very long to get your backpack ready, wrapping your arms around his neck in another tight hug, thanking him for being so gentle and earning only reassuring and affectionate words.

Once you got to the truck, you were welcomed by a whiff of his familiar scent, it smelled like Joel, your Joel and your heart warmed. He glanced at you while he drove, still seeing the tension all over you and his hand rested on your knee “you must be hungry…”

“I am” you said, a little anxious and watched as he turned the wheel and changed streets. Even before getting to the address, you already knew where Joel was taking you: your favorite Taco place. You chuckled as you remembered that was your favorite date spot when you were painfully young; when life seemed so promising and Joel Miller was the man who made you stutter and sweat through your hands. Whenever he glanced towards you, your cheeks would heat up and you would feel like bursting into flames. And after you both got married, when things were still good, that was the place where he would stop by eventually, pick up some takeout and take home, as a way of spoiling and thanking you for taking care of him. As he parked, he smiled and cleared his throat.

“You know, this is our spot, I never brought any girl here, with the exception of Sarah, of course, but much to my disappointment, she isn't really into tacos, which makes it exclusively our thing” he winked at you and you nodded, a small, petty side of you felt thankful for the confirmation of Angela never been there with Joel. It was just a taco shop and yet, it was still one thing that it was so yours and Joel's and she hadn't ruined it with her touch. You felt even hungrier at that moment, relaxing to know you could have a peaceful dinner with your good memories and the man who somehow still managed to make you blush, stammer a little and sweat through your hands.

As you both munched on the food sitting down in the back of his truck, just like you did every Friday night more than a decade ago, you chuckled at how things change but somehow remain the same. He tilted his head to the side, wiping a little bit of sauce you had over your cheek, exactly like when you both were younger.

“I know this probably tastes like shit, compared to the food you've had over the years when you traveled all over the world, you know Sarah told me all about it because she really admires you an-”

You took his hand and squeezed it, then placed your hand on his chin making him look into your eyes.

“Joel… this is the best taco I've ever had, the most delicious takeout I've ever tried because you are here with me..” she whispered and smiled, seeing how his face lit up. Neither of you said it, but you were finally having that date he asked you out several months ago, when destiny decided to put the two of you together. As he saw you shivering in the cold wind, he did the honorable thing and took off his jacket, placing it over your shoulder and rubbing both of your arms. You thanked him and looked all over his truck

“We spent quite a while in here…” you shrugged “and to think I lost my virginity here… you've always been a real gentleman” you scoffed and rolled your eyes. Joel laughed and sighed

“Yeah, well, I've come along nicely, give me a chance and I'll show you” he winked, flirting a little as you shook your head in disbelief.

“Are you serious?! Fuck off, Joel Miller! No guy will ever fuck me in the back of a truck, and especially not you!” You slapped his arm playfully, hugging it and resting your chin on his shoulder, feeling the wind against your face and looking up at him.

“Joel? Can you do us both a favor?” He nodded at you wanting to hear whatever question you had to ask him “please don't let Sarah marry the first asshole she falls in love with”

“I'm on it” he replied, laughing softly and pulling you closer. Closer than you'd ever been to him, he just wished that night wouldn't end too soon.

•••

Lying in Sarah's bed was odd, to say the least; especially when Joel's room was just there, a hallway distant from you. After the moment - better saying, the moments you both had shared in the past few days and even more so that night, you felt things would escalate to another level, a level in which it didn't matter to you if it was right or wrong, It was just bound to happen. But once you got to his home, he showed you his daughter's room, the bathroom, and asked if you needed anything else and simply let you be. Which was what you wanted, it was what you had asked him to do the last time you'd shared a kiss, but at the same time you felt disappointed because you wanted more of him, more of your Joel. The sweet moments you'd spent together were weighing so heavily in your heart, and even if you hadn't forgotten about what happened, the new proximity brought a new light in your relationship with Joel; it felt nice and different, a good different and as much as you closed your eyes and tried falling asleep, you were simply taken back to the moment he held you, soothed you, caressed your skin and assured you everything was alright. Tossing and turning in bed while you wished you were somewhere else instead, anywhere really, as long as he was just next to you. At first, when the gentle strumming from the guitar got to your ears, you imagined you had dozed off for a few minutes, perhaps you had even started to dream, but when your eyes were wide open and the beautiful, familiar sound wouldn't cease, you knew that only meant one thing: Joel was playing the guitar.

It couldn't come from his bedroom, the sound was too far to be coming from there, so you knew you would have to get up and explore. Suddenly, you felt a wave of excitement. Not only did you love watching Joel play the guitar, but now you had a pretty decent and reasonable excuse to go after him. You didn't want to make things weird and be that kind of person to leave the other confused, with your dubious signs, but you were just following your heart at that moment.

You tiptoed through his house, doing your best to move in the dark, as you didn't want to startle Joel or make him think you wanted the music to stop. And then your heart skipped a beat when you looked through the window and saw him playing the guitar on his porch. The cold wind that bothered you when you both were out eating tacos seemed to have stopped, and just then you realized it was indeed warm inside the house. He was so relaxed, strumming his guitar and humming a song softly, you've always loved his singing voice, even if he was a little shy about it, you could sit down and watch him play and sing for hours. You opened the door quietly and rested against the doorframe, admiring it quietly the way he looked focused at his guitar. He played calmly and it was the most beautiful sight you could ever think of. You wouldn't be able to tell exactly how long you stood there, but when Joel looked up at you, you were already walking towards him.

“That was beautiful, Joel…”

“Just like you are, darlin'”

You both knew exactly what you wanted at that moment, how you took another step closer, one after the other and you suddenly were hovering over him. Joel placed his guitar down, he wasn't going to be able to hold himself back, not at that moment. In one single motion, he pulled you to him by the hips, a tight grasp around your body and kissing you deeply. You straddled Joel, your hands making their familiar way towards his curls, loving how they always felt under your touch. Unlike the other times you'd kissed, you knew you would both go all the way down, you wanted it, craved it and even if you knew what to do and where to touch, it also felt new, you were both were the same young couple who'd been so in love, newly married and full of hopes and dreams, but you were also a couple who'd lived separately for more than a decade, you had both experienced heartbreaks, passions, you'd tried and touched other people, but eventually, just like home, it you were drawn to each other. There was no way out. When you were shamelessly humping and groaning on top of him, Joel knew it was time to take things inside, to hell with his neighbors, he didn't care if any of them witnessed it, if anything, he wanted people to see what a lucky bastard he was to have you in his arms, that he was going to take you and make you his at least once more. So he got up, lifting you up easily, so easily, and took you inside, climbing stairs with you in his arms, he longed for you, he was hungry for your body, your taste, your touch. He needed you and Joel Miller was about to take it all. He placed you over his mattress and got rid of his shirt - his dark blue one, that looked so good on him - and let your hands wander his body. He didn't take long to undress you, nibbling your thighs in the process, he knew your body like the palm of his hand, with the exception the last time he'd visited it, his palm wasn't as calloused as it was now, just as you weren't so painfully hot as you were at that moment. You'd always been gorgeous, but at that moment, naked in his bed, it was the most beautiful and erotic thing he'd ever seen and yet he wanted it to make it forever. As he got inside of you, he didn't know how long it would last, how long you both would last, you were being way nicer and more compassionate than he would ever deserve it, but at the same time, something within said you shared the same feelings for each other.

Once you both reached your bliss, love bites, kissings, caresses and so much affection between you both, you relaxed into his arms, your head resting comfortably in his chest, and you felt at home. You still didn't know what the next day would bring you both. Perhaps you would stay together, or you would part ways for good, there was still so much to be done, to spoken, you would have to handle the fact and the consequences of not using protection with Joel, maybe that was a good reason to worry about , or not, you didn't want to think of it, just as you didn't want to think of how you both could ever explain to Sarah what happened, or how Joel would explain Tommy and you would explain your family how you got together, maybe even one day Angela could return, you'd learned the hard way life wasn't a bed of roses and you feared that if you agreed to be happy with Joel once more you would get hurt, one way or another, but all that wasn't important, not at that moment. All it mattered was you and your Joel in bed, snuggled up and worrying about nothing but each other. He nuzzled your neck, making you giggle and in return you pecked his lips once more. He wanted to say those three little words, but decided not to, not yet, instead, he wanted to show you it, now he'd had a taste of you, and he vowed himself to make you happy for the rest of his life.

He knew he had broken your heart, it was the worst thing Joel Miller had ever done, but he was going to win you back, because he wasn't going to give up happiness with you, not again.

____

A/N: besties, how did I do? Did you like it? I hope you did! I honestly had planned on writing a sad ending, I was going to make reader move on from Joel once for all, but then, is it even possible to get over him? It's impossible not to fall for him and give him a second chance. A third part is possible but I have no idea when, and feedback is always welcome my lovelies ❤️💕

[0oolookitsme]

"Knight in the shining armour"

This is short, and kinda bad. But I've finished a fic I began writing for the first time in the whole month of March (we're lowkey in April now sooo) so I hope that you don't mind this shit-cliche too much <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n

Word Count - 1.2k

Warnings - Cuss words, a slur, one little hit to the jaw (literally the whole fic in three little warnings helpp-)

Harry and Y/n are at a party and everyone's enjoying their time until comes in a dude who can neither take no for an answer, nor register the fact that he's just been warned.

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

Everyone had somehow fit on the three sofas in the living room of some dude's, whom Y/n didn't know, party. She'd come here with Harry, just to get away from all of her projects and assignments, and loosen up a bit -- spend some time with Harry and play some games.

Though she wasn’t actually playing any games, she was still enjoying. Cheering with everyone each time Harry scored. She didn't exactly plan on drinking alcohol, considering she had classes early in the morning the next day and had to give a presentation. And still, she stole a couple sips from Harry's red plastic cup every time he handed it to her to play his turn.

A blue drink sloshed around in her cup as everyone roared loudly when Harry scored another point in the ping-pong. She had taken one sip of it, and she just knew that it was close to going stale, somehow. With a big smile on her mouth, she leaned into Harry's side to press a kiss to his cheek, which landed on his ear lobe instead, making the two of them laugh.

When someone bumped into her and apologised right after, her eyes strayed from Harry for a second. She passed the chick a smile and let her go on. And then her eyes landed on a guy standing in the crowd, looking at her with a look she couldn't quite read.

Feeling like she knew him somehow, she settled her gaze back on the game that was still in Harry's favour. She was still a little tense when the realisation sunk in her -- it was Izac. The guy she'd turned down when he'd drunkenly asked her out for sex. He seemed to have taken the rejection well enough and Y/n had moved back to her friend group.

But right now, as he looked at her intently, Y/n had a feeling that maybe he had something to say. Her eyes wandered over to him for the second time and they came in contact with him again, this time his smile making them shrink a little.

Just out of politeness, Y/n smiled back and before she could turn away, he began moving towards her.

Dread settled in her because she didn't have the desire to talk to anyone right now. She just wanted to keep it shut and peacefully watch the game as jazzy blues played in the background. Still, she put on a welcoming face.

"Hi," he greeted and cheered his cup with both of the cups in her hands, causing her to crack an embarrassed smile.

"It's Harry's," she explained shortly, almost fully turned towards Izac now, and by some miracle, Harry turned to see why she'd mentioned his name, almost knocking down his drink in her hand when his arm bumped with the back of her elbow.

"Why don't we go somewhere quieter? It's a little too crowded here," Izac suggested, pulling her attention back onto him.

"Ah, I think it's good enough." She disagreed and before he could persist, she continued. "How's Leah?" She dared to ask about his girlfriend that Y/n solely knew the name of.

"She's good, yeah," he shrugged a little tensely, almost as if he hadn't expected Y/n to have known about her. Maybe she was just reading into it a little too much. 

"I came here to apologise actually, about the last time we met," he said while actively pretending to get a little awkward, clearly lying about his purpose behind approaching her.

"Oh no, that's fine -- I'd mostly forgotten about it," she laughed lightly, faking it still.

"I should've asked you properly, y' know? Sober and all," he quickly uttered out, catching Y/n off guard.

What? She looked at him to see if she'd said that outloud and it seemed like she hadn't. "Oh," was all she said, as she took a sip out of her cup and flinched in distaste. She’d drunk from her own cup.

"I -- yeah. I genuinely think we'd be extremely compatible in bed," he smirked, rubbing the back of his neck on seeing the blank look on Y/n's face.

She swallowed dryly, still quite in shock. "You don't even know me," she mentioned flatly, having quit the politeness because he clearly wasn't reciprocating it. "Plus, you're in a relationship -- not that I would've agreed to this even if you weren't."

"She doesn't have to know about this, you know, Leah," he tried again. "It'll just be for a night. Like, give it a shot, c'mon," he urged her, moving a step closer.

"Izac, back off,” She said firmly. “And no, I won't have sex with you," taking a step back, she added. And now, she could feel Harry's arm against her back.

She felt his breath nearing the back of her neck just in time for Izac to let out a hollow chuckle and begin walking away.

"Fuckin’ slut," he called her, and Y/n was about to snap when she felt Harry's arm snake around her waist.

"Watch your mouth," she heard him spit behind her, now moving to stand beside her.

Izac turned around, a lazy smile on his face, like he was a friend. "Don't bother man. Sluts like her --"

Harry's fist collided with his jaw, cutting him off. He inhaled sharply as Izac groaned in pain, holding his jaw while crouching – he might have broken it.

"Dare you call any girl, let alone her,” he pointed his thumb towards Y/n, “that thing again and I won't mind breaking a couple other bones," he warned,  his voice having gone so low throughout the scene that probably only the five people standing closest to him heard him clearly.

And as Izac was ushered off to a bathroom, Y/n intertwined her hand through Harry's and took them outside. She could feel something wet and sticky on his knuckles as she grazed her thumb over it, his arm a little stiff. It surely hurt.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she began. “I was going to bite right back.”

Harry sighed beside her, knowing that she was right, he didn’t have to do it. “But I wanted to,” he confessed. 

“I just couldn’t believe that that dog said it again after being fucking warned. Like the fact that he said it even once had made my anger boiling,” he said with an angry frown in between his eyebrows, getting agitated again. 

Looking up from the concrete road, Y/n turned to look him in the eyes, waiting for him to do the same. “It’s okay. And, thank you,” she smiled, pressing a kiss on his cheek that had dug out its dimples again. 

“Of course,” he murmured, pressing his mouth somewhere near her hairline and hissed in pain when she accidentally squeezed his bruising hand.

“What?” Coming to a halt with his hand still in hers, Y/n briskly squeezed it again as she continued – “Is this knight in shining armour’s hand beginning to hurt?” She mocked him, cackling when he shrieked again and holding onto his torso for support as her body went limp because of laughing so hardly. 

Shaking his hand out of her grip, Harry pushed his hair away from his forehead. “I’m done being your boyfriend,” he mumbled, a laugh escaping his lips when his girlfriend only threw her head back to laugh harder. 

[totallynotashieldagent]

Can you write a drabble with Isaac for your Valentine's day special using number 6 or 25 from the list of ideas? (Sorry, my English is bad)

💕valentine's day drabble special💕

Isaac paced his apartment again and changed his outfit for the fifth time. His wolf was clawing at his throat and he was sweating bullets.

"Come on!" He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. "Stay calm. Stay fucking calm." He kept repeating the chant.

This was the first official Valentine's that he was going to spend with you.

The plan was simple. Just drive to your place. Give you flowers. Take you to the restaurant and then have a lovely meal. And by the end of the night, try to bring up the conversation that he wanted to bond with you.

Simple? Right? Yeah.

Except that it wasn't. He was such a nervous wreck that now he was on his seventh outfit and he'd completely forgotten to buy flowers and he was running late.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

That was his internal monologue as he raced on his bike to get to you. He snatched a bouquet from the florist's hands when she got done making it. Leaving the shop with apologies and trying to keep his pace human-looking and not run at werewolf speed to get to you.

Finally.

Finally. He reached your house. He tried his best to fix his messy curls and his clothes as he knocked on your door.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Don't wolf out. Stay fucking calm.

Isaac exhaled as he heard you approaching the door. The lock clicked open and he saw you.

His heart thumped in his ears and he forgot how to breathe.

"Hey, I still need a moment. Come in?" You smiled brightly and walked back into the house.

He followed behind you. Completely numb. Not even remembering to give you the flowers he'd gotten. He didn't even realize that he'd just stayed stock still as you moved around, putting finishing touches on yourself and your outfit.

"Ready?" You asked him, putting on your heels, looking up at him.

The way your eyes looked bigger when you looked up at him. That's what broke him out of his head.

"Oh- Um-" He cleared his throat. "You're wearing that?"

"Yeah? Why?" You look down at yourself, dusting the dress proper and giving yourself another twirl in the mirror. "What's wrong with it?"

"No!" Isaac said immediately. "Nothing. I just- I need a moment-" He breathed out, drinking in the sight of you.

You knew that look. The look he had when he was doing his best to contain his wolf. "You okay?" You asked gently, your index finger under his chin, pulling him just a little closer.

He felt like his heart would give out, honestly. All his senses were being assaulted by you. Your scent, your heartbeat, the way you looked- His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed dry. God, if I die, I'd be happy. He exhaled softly.

"You look beautiful." His voice was barely audible, making you smile. "And I'm struggling to believe you picked me to be your Valentine." He said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your cheek so not to ruin your makeup.

I went with 25, hope that's okay!! 💕

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 33

WARNINGS: light kissing

So often as it does, your mind composes a dream after you fall into a deep sleep.

You are Draco Malfoy, and you are constantly in a state of fear and dread. Every day is one of misery, though you aren't entirely sure what it is that you are afraid of. Nevertheless, your anxiety embarrasses you, so you taunt and belittle others to hide your own insecurity.

This makes you feel more confident and powerful, but uneasiness still lingers at the back of your consciousness. It remains suppressed and almost forgotten until you are in the presence of certain people: Potter, Snape, Dumbledore, Father, Mother... Umbridge included, but a part of you also likes her because she's helping your power to grow.

Your girlfriend, Maddy, also reminds you of your fear. She shares your fear. You know she's only staying with you because you'll be able to protect her when no one else can. She's selfish... just like you. You wouldn't have ever taken her in if the relationship you had together didn't bother y/l/n. That's how it started, and you had intended to get rid of Maddy a long time ago after she had served her purpose. Instead, you quickly came to realize that she provides a decent distraction from your worries.

And yet, despite how much you deny it, fear, a sense of utter impending doom, prevails...

You wake up from your dream in the early morning and find your pillow wet with tears. You wipe the dry salt off your face and look to the window. It appears you still have a while before you should get out of bed, so you flip your pillow over and attempt to fall back asleep.

You can't help but reflect on your dream, and it disturbs you. You were already well aware that Malfoy was troubled, but standing in his shoes (or rather how your mind pictured what it would be like to stand in his shoes) was truly upsetting. You'd always assumed Malfoy was simply born a prick. You never, until now, would've imagined that he of all people was so scared of anything.

You slowly roll over to glance at Maddy, who snores softly in her own bed. You know it was only a dream, but you feel sorry for her anyway.

Later that day during your lunch break after you've eaten, Fred and George follow you to the library where you look up a recipe for the dreamless sleep potion.

"Why are we here again?" George sniffs, gazing around uninterestedly at the shelves.

"Well, I am here to get a potion formula. I didn't ask you to come with me." You flip through the parchment stack in front of you, spotting the word "dream", and pull out just what you were looking for.

"Nightmares won't let her sleep," Fred explains to George. "If she drinks this potion before bed, she won't have any."

"Nightmares? Would you call the dream you had last night a nightmare, y/n?" George asks as he and Fred tail you on your way to the librarian's desk.

"I... no. Maybe." You borrow the recipe, tuck it neatly into your bag, and lead the twins out to the clocktower courtyard. "I wasn't terrified in the same way that I would be in my typical nightmares. I was scared, but it was sort of... in a depressed way."

"Ah. I'd expect nothing less from Malfoy," Fred says plainly.

You sit down on a cold, stone bench, and the twins, naturally, seat themselves on either side of you.

"Why is that?" you ask.

"He's sad and scared of everything," George says. "And that's that."

Fred slides down into a slump, interlocking his fingers together and flipping them around to crack his knuckles. He then links his hands behind his neck, resting his head. "His father is a control freak, you know. A proud pureblood." He says the word like it tastes bad in his mouth.

You laugh. "Aren't the Weasley's a pureblood family?"

"Yeah. It's only that other purebloods like Malfoy and his father give us a bad rep," George says. "We don't want to be associated with them at all."

"Anyway," Fred continues. "It's safe to assume that Malfoy didn't have a good childhood. And..." He sits up, getting close so he can whisper, "There are rumors that Malfoy's father is a death eater."

"Really?" you gasp. "You don't mean..."

"A follower of You-Know-Who," George whispers. "That is sure to put some kind of weight on Malfoy's shoulders, even if he isn't one himself... yet."

Though this news is shocking, it doesn't surprise you as much as it should. You'd never met Malfoy's father before, but from what you remembered about him from your dream...

"It was just a dream," you say, shaking your head. "It doesn't mean anything."

"That's not true. It at least means you've been thinking about Malfoy," Fred teases.

This comment catches you off-guard. "W-well, he's made it very clear that he despises me, and the feeling is mutual. We only dream about the people and things we feel most strongly about, and he is someone I have very strong feelings of hatred for."

Fred and George only nod. You can tell they are tempted to press the matter further, but they don't. Instead they habitually make it about themselves.

"'...the people and things we feel most strongly about...'" George recollects out loud.

"Have you ever dreamt about us, y/n?" Fred asks slyly. Both twins turn their bodies toward you, each resting an arm on the back of the bench behind you.

You giggle. "I think so."

"You think so?" the twins echo in unison.

You nod. "See... I don't recall having any dreams about you two... directly; I don't remember seeing your faces. But, I have had plenty of dreams with things that could be... symbolic of you. I have dreams and remember them so often that I can sometimes notice a pattern. Lately, there's been a repetition of pairs."

"Go on," Fred and George encourage, obviously very interested in what you have to say.

"For example, I had a dream about flying on the back of a two-handed dragon. It didn't mean anything to me then, but, now that I think about it, it happened not long after I'd officially met you both. And then... I dreamt I found two stray kittens on the street back in England. They were orange." You look up from your lap and laugh at the expressions on Fred's and George's faces.

"That was definitely us!" Fred exclaims excitedly.

"I dunno," says George. "I always imagined that, if I were an animal, it'd be something a bit bigger and more intimidating than a... kitten." He scrunches his nose up in disapproval.

You chuckle. "I'll have you know that, after I took the cats into my home and cared for them, they grew up to be giant tigers."

The twins' eyebrows rise in surprise. "That's us," they quickly agree, nodding fervently. You laugh.

"And there's one more," you add. "Not that it matters, but do you remember that dream I had about the basilisk?"

George clicks his tongue. "Yes, yes. Now that I call a nightmare."

"Don't tell us there were actually two basilisks," Fred chortles.

You shake your head. "No, thank goodness. One was bad enough." You shiver at the thought and the chilly, winter air, and Fred and George scoot in closer to keep you warm. "No, it was before I fell into the river that I noticed at each end of the bridge I stood on was a way out amidst all the fog. I... fell through the bridge because I couldn't decide in time which path to go to."

"And you think we are the... pathways," Fred clarifies thoughtfully.

"Yes...?" you awkwardly chuckle. "This was when I was... I mean, when my feelings were, you know... torn. Before I felt comfortable with... loving both of you..." You trail off and look around in nervousness, making sure that no one else can hear your conversation.

"Aw, you're so cute, y/n!" George coos. He wraps his arms around you in an affectionate, tight squeeze.

"...Why? I mean, wait, stop! I told you last night no more hugs!" you giggle desperately. You squirm in an attempt to free yourself, but then Fred hugs you from the other side and you lose all hope of escaping.

You sigh in frustration, "You two can be so aggravating," as the twins confine you to the bench.

Just then, the clocktower dongs.

"We gotta go to class!" You make one last effort to slither down past the twins' long, strong arms, but it's pointless. Fred and George then, as if to rub it in further, mush your face between theirs with a kiss on each of your cheeks.

They hold that pose as the other students in the courtyard begin to file back indoors, and you receive skeptical looks as they pass you by. You feel self conscious not because you look stupid, but because there are two guys kissing you at the same time so out in the open.

"Pfeaple are shtaring at ush," you manage to say with your squished mouth. It's only then that Fred and George release you, and you scramble to your feet.

"Your reputation began to diminish the moment you first started talking to us," Fred sighs jokingly. "Why do you still care about what other people think of you?"

"I... I honestly don't know," you chuckle wearily. "But I should really be getting to class."

"You needn't bother going to class if you don't plan on finishing the school year," George says presumptuously as you start to walk away.

You stop and make a half-turn, saying, "For now, I do plan on finishing the school year." And with that, you continue towards Divination.

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[randomness-in-motion]

Chance Encounter

My Asrani having a few moments of confusion with Illario.

9:52 Dragon - Cloudreach

It felt odd sitting in a bar by his own choice, he'd only ever been in them if a contract had led him into one. This one was small, bad lighting made worse by the smokey haze that hung in the air. The singer trying their best but not quite hitting the right notes, voices layering with the sound of glasses and plates meeting tables. Asrani's ears twitched as he stared into his drink, that one couple in the far corner needed to just get a room.

He groaned as he shifted, everywhere on him aching as he finished the drink, the alcohol burning as he swallowed and then coughed. Hand absently grabbing the bottle to refill his glass as he muttered "Fucking dragons." Ghilan'nain had fucked up, let her anger lead her and they'd almost had her. Now he was letting his own irritation get the better of him. 

A hand slid over his shoulder as he went to pour, fingers trailing, the sound and feel of nails dragging along the fabric of his shirt. Asrani shifted away from it as he stood up, glass and bottle in hand, too irritated to be polite to the elf as he looked at him "Nae, ga rahn s'dael." Time for a different seat...

Illario had been surprised when he'd seen Asrani pass through the market, but he'd been even more surprised when he watched him walk into the bar. Asrani didn't drink and he hated these places, said they were exhausting. Not even half an hour later Illario's eyes had narrowed the first time someone approached Asrani, only to smile when she was denied. Then the man had walked up.

The couple having finally vacated their corner, Asrani gladly took it. The man he'd turned down had scowled and moved to follow only to find himself face to chest with Illario, irritated grey-blue eyes looking down at him "I wouldn't recommend whatever it is that you are thinking."

The man stepped back and as he went to say something Illario stepped towards him and he fell silent when Illario motioned to the door. Once he was gone, Illario went to the bar and bought a bottle of what this place considered their best whiskey and then he turned towards Asrani.

Illario had done his best to not seethe at the café, envy intertwining with greed and burrowing it's way into his very bones as he'd watched his cousin with Asrani, that line about the coffee and kisses.. All Zara had to do was kill Lucanis like she'd fucking agreed to and Illario wouldn't have had to sit there watching his cousin take from him yet again... 

For four years he had stayed away like he'd been told to, with his grandmother now contained though he felt like he could risk just a little.. Not like anything could fall apart anymore than it already had... 

Movement in his direction as he poured the last of the bottle into his glass brought his gaze up and he frowned as Illario stopped at his table. This was Lucanis' family, actions have consequences. He needed to be polite, he managed a smile.. he needed to be polite.. "Good evening, Mr. Dellamorte. Come to accuse me of blood magic again?"

Illario grimaced, his grip on the bottle tightening "Ah, I see you still refuse to let that go." 

Asrani shrugged as he picked up his drink "First impressions have a habit of lingering. Especially when it's one accusing me of such a disgusting act."

Illario nodded as he held the bottle out, eyes fixing on the cuff that Asrani wore, one from the set that Illario had gifted him as Rio... "Can we try starting over then? I would like to thank you for bringing my cousin home."

Asrani's brow furrowed as he glanced between the bottle and Illario, then shook his head "We started over when we worked those contracts together, or have you forgotten how we got along during them? You don't need to thank me." 

Illario gave one of his classic half-smiles as he motioned to the chair next to Asrani "I'd like to try again."

He was a Crow, and Lucanis' cousin, and he'd never listened in the past so why would he now... Asrani's head tilted back as he closed his eyes and sighed "You aren't going to take no for an answer, are you?"

Illario's smile widened as he pulled the chair out and sat down "Ahh, you know me so well even now. Pass me your glass."

Asrani pushed it over to him and leaned back as Illario picked it up "What is this that you were drinking?" Asrani shrugged as he watched Illario sniff and recoil from the glass as he replied "Something that seems better suited to cleaning floors."

Illario dumped it out in disgust and refilled the glass "Well, at least you recognise that fact. Try this." then held it out to Asrani.

Asrani glanced at the floor that now wore his drink, annoyance flickering across his face as he looked back at Illario and reached for the drink "I could have just gotten another glass." 

Filling his own glass, Illario looked down to avoid that look of disapproval and noticed that Asrani's arm was mottled with fresh bruises, and scarring that he hadn't had when they were together. Glancing at the other arm to find it was also bruised and scraped up he looked at Asrani "What happened? You look like you went a round with a dragon."

The whiskey burned only slightly less as Asrani downed it, the warmth as it settled though was nicer "Two dragons, more than one round." the empty glass was set back onto the table.

Illario muttered to himself as he lifted his own glass and took a drink, unhappy that Asrani had not only been in that danger but now bore marks from it. He refilled both glasses and as Asrani leaned to pick his up again, Illario's eyes went to Asrani's chest. Shirt mostly unbuttoned shifted to reveal deep bruising and a sliver of bandages above one of the few buttons that was fastened, Illario's face blanched. 

Asrani only just caught the expression as he drank again, glass returned to the table, the cycle repeating as a wave of warmth washed through him and his bones ached less. "Something wrong with your drink, Illario?" 

Illario's eyes pulled up to Asrani's face for a moment, glancing down again only long enough to refill the glass "No. Well, yes. It's swill. Why are you here when there are better places with better drinks?"

A half shrug given as he took the glass again, one brow raising "I'm not here for quality, I'm here for pain relief. Which raises the question. Why are -you- here when there are better places with better drinks?" another wave of warmth and a light haze easing the throb in his head as his eyes closed. The sound of liquid being poured and a soft intake of breath.

Illario's eyes went to Asrani's neck and then moved up just as violet eyes opened, an honest answer given "I am also here for pain relief. Those scars on your arm, what caused them?"

Asrani's hand tightened on the glass as he stared at the cuff on his wrist "I didn't react well to some bad news." this time Asrani refilled the glass, twice, and the haze became heavy.

Illario fidgeted with his glass as his brow furrowed "You caused them? How?"

Asrani shrugged again as he took another drink "It was more my magic reacting to me that caused them." 

Illario's eyes widened as he took hold of Asrani's arm "Your own magic did this to you?!" his fingers tracing the scars closest to the cuff.

A confusing familiarity coiling into his chest, Asrani's fingers curled into his palm as he resisted the urge to snatch his hand back "It doesn't matter if it's your own or not, too much magic can tear a body apart... Can I have my arm back please?"

Illario's hands retreated "Ah, I apologise.. What kind of news caused that reaction?"

Another drink taken, numbing warmth as his head dipped forward and he tried to ignore everything, especially Illario and his questions, the way his fingers felt on his wrist... 

Illario poured the last of the bottle into Asrani's glass, then motioned to the server, bottle held up to indicate the need for another. His head canting to the side when there was no response "Rook?"

Asrani grimaced at the name, it felt sharp and jagged and he didn't know why "Why the sudden interest, Illario?" 

Illario pushed the glass towards Asrani "It's not sudden, you always interested me." and looked up, startled by the unexpected laughter.

"Oh, that is some bullshit."  his voice changing to imitate Illario 'You're so boring!', 'You're too serious.', 'Why couldn't they pair me with someone else for this..'." glass lifted and half drained.

Illario gave a weak smile "I changed my mind during the second contract."

Unfocused violet eyes rolled "No you didn't. You just decided that I was some kind of challenge, someone to toy with because you were bored. Then you got pissed when I gave you a dose of your own game on our last contract." 

Illario stared at his glass as he remained silent in response to that truth, only looking up when Asrani shifted. The glass now empty returned to the table for the final time as he sighed "Thank you for your 'Thanks', Illario."   

Asrani went to stand and immediately tilted forward, causing Illario to quickly move to catch him. Arm wrapping around Asrani's waist as his forehead leaned against Illario's chest and he mumbled "I'm sorry." before he tried to move back.

When Asrani looked up, Illario lost the ability to think before he acted, his hand moving to brush Asrani's hair aside and then he kissed him. The surprise holding Asrani in place gave way to confusion as Illario tried to deepen the kiss, Asrani's eyes widening as his hands came up and he pushed Illario away "¿Qué mierda!?"  

Head shaking as he pulled out a sovereign for the server that had finally arrived, Asrani pressed it into their palm as he mumbled "I apologise for the mess." then he stumbled towards the door. He needed air and a gondola back to the Diamond, away from whatever the fuck this was that just happened.

Illario followed, catching up to Asrani just as he made it out the door, hands grabbing his shoulders to steady him "Rook, wait! I.." 

Asrani shook his head but this time everything spun as he jerked free and turned, steps backward unsteady as he kept moving to put distance between them "No.. get away from me. Just... no."

Illario could only stand there as Asrani turned and staggered away as fast as he could manage, the urge to follow that screamed through him causing him to tail Asrani long enough to at least make sure he'd made it safely to the gondola. Then he turned and headed back to the villa to drown his own pain.

[airandangels]

woof have I had a long day, my whole family has.

Hannah and Barbara have for some time had a thing the correct name for which I have promptly forgotten. It's a subtype of squint in which, put simply, both eyes don't always point the same way at the same time. They have perfectly fine vision but it looks strange, a bit like Columbo. The medical advice was to do a small operation on the muscles around the eyes to correct it. We went through the public system for this and it took over a year to get a date for it, which I suppose is not bad in the circumstances, but yeah.

So I took the day off work to go and be a support person and general helper for my sister (my parents were along to help too, they're both retired), and we've spent most of the day waiting, first for the girls to be taken in for their surgery, one after the other, then for them to wake up after the anaesthetic and be sufficiently recovered to go home. When Hannah (who went in first) was waking up, my sister was still with Barbara getting her anaesthetised, so I had to go in and try to comfort her while she was absolutely miserable, spaced out from anaesthetic, not sure what day it was, unable to see to begin with, sore, in a strange place, and although I did my best to soothe I couldn't settle her down properly until her mum was able to come and join us.

The nurses (who were all kind, patient and efficient, we thanked them very much) kept trying to suggest a snack she might like now she was allowed food, and she didn't want an iceblock*, she didn't want ice cream, she doesn't like jelly**, all their sandwich options sounded terrible (egg, cheese and pickle, and corned beef - not even a plain ham) - finally, as a last resort, one of them suggested a biscuit and I was like YES she LOVES biscuits if I'd known BISCUITS were an option I would have asked for them at once. So she had a Milk Arrowroot and three Krispies and a drink of water and they had a mighty restorative effect.

Then we had to wait for absolute ever for Barbara to be finished, and when she was waking up in recovery my sister had to go to her while I waited in discharge with Hannah, and of course she was back at ground zero of how Hannah had felt but maybe worse because I think they had to give her more anaesthetic to knock her out, hence she was slower to wake. When we could finally go home Hannah was actually relatively perky and calm (she could open her eyes properly now and see, although with some double vision) but Barbara was still miserable. It all took hours longer than I'd expected because of that waking up stage.

Now we're all home and they're absolutely exhausted so there have been several emotional outbursts and gosh I can't wait for them to go to sleep, it's what they need and will be a relief for us all.

* Popsicle to Americans

** Jell-O, likewise

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / chapter thirty five

Isaiah

I sat beside Bonnie on a deep red leather sofa in Tommy's office. The younger lad didn't exactly look uncomfortable to be here but I could tell he wasn't so used to long afternoons of knitted brows and Arthur Shelby's fucking pacing. I wondered if he knew the extent to which the trouble Tommy had called us in to discuss really stretched. The roots to which the rot had already penetrated.

When he'd first called everyone in for a debrief the office had been packed. Everyone had answered his middle of the night call to arms, his brothers and his right hand men, the travellers who had arrived in a steady flow throughout the night until there were caravans and trucks littering the lane like a steady flowing river all the way up the road to arrow house. Everyone had stacked into the office to listen to him. The bringer of bad news. He'd talked of the vendetta, the war about to waged not only upon his family but any family honest enough to honour their bond with the Shelby's.

I'd stood behind my father in his chair and listened to grave retelling of the hit on Arthur and John. I'd seen the photographs taken of Michael in his barely alive condition. I'd swallowed a lump when Polly had teared up, when she'd had to lean on Arthur to hold herself up straight. I'd stood by and listened as Tommy doled out orders to each and every man. No one left unaccounted for. No one without a role to play. I'd nodded to my father when Tommy had patted him on the shoulder, shown him the sign of the cross and sent him away. I'd watched everyone else leave until only myself and Bonnie Gold remained.

"Sit down lads," said Tommy, "make yourselves at home it's gonna be a long night." He'd met my gaze with a quiet look of confirmation, as if to tell me 'I know what you're thinking and you're right.'

I knew what was coming next. Knew enough about the wayward Fens who had all but abandoned the family and rejected the name Shelby. All but forgotten their darker roots. The Fens who went by the name Gray these days and who spent their lives wrapped up in luxury, all grace and class.

I'd known then just what it was he had in mind for us. Not Bonnie though, he was sitting there, quite comfortably, one arm outstretched along the back of the sofa, taking in his surroundings with that quiet smirk he so often seemed to wear. We'd always gotten along, me and Bonnie, but I'd always known we were cut from a completely different cloth. "As you know I'm bringing the whole family in until I've deciphered exactly what and who is threatening us, the Changrettas and Z

Sabinis have declared war on me and my blood and until we know exactly how to fight it i want everyone who may be at risk right where I can see them... Now, Arthur's gone to fetch Ada and the kid back up from London, and when she gets here I'm sure she'll give me hell for dragging her back, but I'm not really worried about Ada. She's a sensible lass and she knows the risks that come with the Shelby name, she's seen enough shit to take all this seriously and she won't want any harm to come to little Karl so I expect that once she's said her piece she'll toe the line..." When he paused he took a sip of whiskey and he smirked.

"But, the same cannot be said for my other little sisters.." He sighed and I couldn't help but chuckle as he poured a glass for me and one for Bonnie.

"Why do I get the feeling whatever you're about to ask us is gonna require more than a sip of whiskey Mr Shelby..." Smirked Bonnie, his cheeky smile not quite matching up to the grey trouble in his eyes. He wasn't naive.

"Drink up soldier." I said with a dry smirk which did little to ease the tension rising in the room.

The Fens didn't have a lot to do with their brothers or the family in general, I'd grown up in the bossom of the Shelby's, half raised by Aunt Polly myself and still only seen those girls a handful of times. The last of those times being when little Sonya and Sylvia Shelby were 11 years old in ballet frocks, still small enough that they could sit one on each of John's hips, their hair in little french plaits, still so similar you couldn't tell who was who.

I'd seen them since of course, it wasn't as if they'd been forgotten about by their family and their Aunt Pol was so proud of them that whenever a new video, a new photograph emerged online of them on the stage she'd make sure everyone saw it at least ten times. They cropped up in the Rags often enough too, the primadonnas with mafia ties, dainty little socialites with all their sophisticated talents, whose money came from drugs, murder and all kinds of corruption. If one of us ever made an appearance in court, if one of us ever got caught up in another violent clash, if we were photographed leaving a notorious club in the wrong end of town, you could almost guarantee that some lowlife pap had done their best to get a photo of the delicate ballerinas in distress somewhere outside their school or the theatres.

As they'd gotten older they'd done their best to distance yourself, but how far can you ever really get from the Shelby shadow. And they were, after all, their brothers sisters. As children they'd been tearaways and if there was one thing I'd learned knowing Ada as well as I did, it was that the wildness is never quite tamed. The Shelby curse never skips a generation.

No, I might not have known them so well, but I knew enough to know that Bonnie was right. If Tommy was about to ask us to guard his little sister's, I was gonna need more than a swig of whiskey to temper me through the trouble they would cause.

"Isaiah, you'll remember the Fens," said Tommy, "so I'm sure you can answer our lads questions eh?" He was smirking and I could tell he was holding back not for my sake but for Bonnie's. "No," he said then, cracking a wider grin, "no, Sonya's quite tame, emotional but tame," he said but the look in his eyes told us both he wasn't finished. "To be quite candid with you boys I haven't spoken to my little sisters for a long time, and perhaps I don't know them quite as well as I would like to now but, they made it very clear a long time ago that that was the way it was to be. They won't want to come home, in fact I should imagine this house is the last place they'd think to call home these days, sorry as that seems," I knew he'd added that for Bonnie's benefit, because Bonnie's family were tight, because he'd been raised much like Tommy, to value family above all else. "But circumstances have changed and so home they must come... And when they get here they're under your care, I want you to stick to them like glue, never a second out of your sight. It's like I said, I don't know them half as well as I should and so, I can't trust them half as much as I would like... I don't know that they'll listen to us or believe us when we tell them of the threats hanging over their heads, we've always done our best to keep them out of the family business and so, as much as I'm sure they'd like to believe they understand what we do, they don't. They don't know anything, don't understand the dangers... They're far more vulnerable than I'd like to believe, a mistake of my own making I'm sure, and I'm not gonna be around all the time to keep them safe. Can't guarantee my brother's will be here either. That's why I need you two to keep and eye on them... More than that I need you to look after them like you would your own sisters."

"Course Tommy," I said, nodding, saving my words because the gravity of the situation was looming and I could see the devotion in his eyes. There was a fear there he didn't often show, a grave shadow in his eyes.

"I know they haven't been around for a long time, don't even call themselves Shelby anymore, but theyre still family and they're fucking precious, so you keep them safe... No matter what happens that's you're priority from here on out, don't give a fuck what you have to risk for them, don't give a fuck if you put your own life on the line... Those girls come first alright?"

"Understood Mr Shelby." Nodded Bonnie, a grave look in his own eyes now as he watched the floor, slight downward turn of his head, thoughtful. We looked the same then, with our caps shadowing our eyes. The two of us taking it in, bearing the weight cast upon our shoulders.

"Now there's another matter too, should the worst happen..."

"Ain't gonna happen Tom..." I started, teeth gritted because I recognised the doom in his voice.

"Should the worst happen..." He reiterated, "and we lose this war, if someone gets a hit on me or any of my brothers, if you can see the dominoes begin to fall..."

Bonnie had had his hand in his pocket until now but as Tommy's tone took a darker tone his hand wandered and his fingers stroked his chin and then the back of his neck. He had a faraway look in his eyes and I wondered what depressive imagery was shadowing his mind in that moment. Forced myself not to think about it, knew I couldn't afford to let those kinds of thoughts in.

"If me and my brothers fall I want you to get those girls as far away from here as you can... You make sure they live and you keep your duty to this family, to me, for as long as they live..." If I'd had any doubt in my mind about Tommy's ability to survive anything then it would have been an unreasonable request. But I didn't. So I didn't pay it any mind. Just nodded my head and swore on my life without a second thought. Telling myself it wouldn't matter anyway. Because the war wouldn't last more than a week or two. Because we would come out on top the way we always did.

"It won't come to it Tommy," I said, "but you have my word."

"And mine," said Bonnie a moment later before he rested his chin in the L of his thumbs, hands pressed palm to palm as if in prayer. And perhaps that's what he was doing. I knew I had the urge to return to my father's church and kneel at the alter in that moment. Ask someone to watch over us. Because Tommy hadn't told us the half of it and I knew it. The love which ran deep for those girls. He probably never would express the true extent of the depth to which he cherished them, vulnerable as that would make him. But I knew it because I'd heard the stories and I saw the truth of them now in his eyes when he spoke of them. How the twins had been with their mother the morning she'd passed. How they'd been the last to see her living. How they'd been carried home by their Uncle Charlie, too young to understand what they'd seen. How the brothers would never say it, but always saw their mother in them. As if they were the last connection to her, as if they carried her weathered wild soul with them now. I knew that when Tommy told us we were to die for them if we had to, he was telling us he would die for them too. Knew that if he could he would in a heartbeat. I looked to my left, to Bonnie with his troubled water expression and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he gazed, taciturn, at the legs of Tommy's desk. I wondered how much of those stories he had heard over the years. Wondered whether he knew the weight he now carried on his back. "Now, Bonnie, I've decided you're to take care of Sonya and Isaiah you'll have Sylvia... I don't expect they'll be particularly charmed by this arrangement, but you're canny lads... I'm sure you'll manage.."

And for a moment I'd thought he was finished. He said goodnight to Bonnie, gave him one final piece of advice - told him the girls had forgotten their gypsy roots, told him it might do Sonya good to remember - and then he'd sent him on his way. Told him to rest up, he'd need it.

I'd expected him to say the same to me but he didn't. Instead he had kept me behind a little longer. "Forgive me for sparing the lad the gory details," he nodded to the door Bonnie had just left through, "but I didn't think it'd do any good to worry him... You however, you already know the twins..."

"Hardly Tommy, last time I saw em they were this tall..." I said with a smirk, trying to chuckle though it was hard to conjor amusement.

"So just as well as the rest of us then," he smirked along, "all the same Isaiah, there's rumours going round London about our girls and I don't yet know the truth of em, however the Fens have their mother in their blood so I wouldn't be surprised to learn there's some truth in them..."

"Can't be that bad surely, what trouble can you cause at ballet school eh?" I wasn't sure I should be joking but my uneasy grin was the best I could manage in that moment when I didn't know the severity of their situation.

"I'd hate to think we underestimate them."

"So, lay it on me then, I'll brace myself..."

"Rumours going round that my baby sister Sonya's been in bed with the enemy..." I couldn't hide the surprise from my eyes then, looking back at him with raised brows, trying not to wear my nervous smirk.

"Sonya?" I asked, "fuckin an Italian?" "Freddie Sabini to be exact..." Said Tommy, sucking his cheek in before pouring another drink. "Theres talk of Sylvia getting herself into trouble too, but those rumours are far more vague..." It was the way he shook his head that concerned me, the memory of the girl I'd once known that left a bad taste in my mouth.

The way I remembered them Sylvia had always been the softer girl, a little quieter, a little more pensive, wild like a Shelby with the woodlands in her soul for certain, but frail. Sonya had always been more starlet, more optimistic. There'd always been something melancholy about her sister.

"Our men in London tell me she looks sick, tell me she spends all hours of the night out in Solomons' territory. Course she's safe there, but I don't like the thought of it..."

"Naturally." I swallowed, tried to imagine what those men might mean when they said "sick." "What kind of sick Tommy?" I asked though I'd seen her on Instagram and I already knew the answer.

"Thin," he shrugged, "a real cliche of her genre I suppose."

"And she's spending her nights in Camden Town?" I had a feeling I knew what that meant too. "Could be drugs," said Tommy, "not that I think Alfie's stupid enough to sell to her... She was always a canny lass, sure she could exploit a weakness or two to get what she wants..."

"Think so?" I asked swallowing another gulp of whiskey, letting it warm and burn, trying to remain still and composed despite the thought of the girl I'd always had a soft spot for succumbing to the same darkness which took her mother all those years ago.

"I'd like to hope not but you know me..." "Aye," I nodded, "I know you Tommy." I said before standing up, placing my empty glass on the desk in front of him. "I'll look after Tommy, keep her safe... Didn't need to ask me, I'd have died for those girls in a heartbeat anyway."

"Aye," he nodded, "you're a good lad Isaiah."

She looked ever so tired then as she drifted down the hallway ahead of me. All day Sylvie had me treading eggshells, her volatile streak sharper than I'd expected. She was more wild now than I could ever remember her having been before. When she was much younger, though she still looked too young now. In fact just then as she slipped past Alfie carrying her ballet slippers strung from her feeble wrist, she looked painfully young. Too young to have pulled off any of the stunts she had.

Seeing her like that only sparked my loathing for the man who stood before me all the more. Seeing her appear suddenly paled and vulnerable. Suddenly frail where she hadn't been even just five minutes before.

When she was dancing she was ethereal, some unearthly creature, her beauty uncanny as she spun slowly on the spot, tiny body contorted in ways she didn't really look strong enough to hold. But she must have been, because she had held that dainty pose with such grace. Until he'd scared her and sent her tumbling to the floor, her caving in beautiful despite the fear which shot through me at seeing her waver and fall.

So when I fixed Alfie with that cold, unforgiving glare I meant the threat with which I spoke. Wanted him to know how much I hated him in that moment.

I'd have taken his eyes just for looking at her, the smirk on his lips as he watched her drift down the hallway enough to make me consider killing him there and then.

"You wanna look after her mate..." He said nodding to her flickering shadow as she disappeared round the corner, "looks exhausted if you ask me..."

I narrowed my eyes at him, shook my head with a bitter smirk.

"Fuck off." I said before turning away, following Sylvia back to our room with my hands I'm my pockets and my shirt slung over my shoulder.

I heard his chuckle echo down the hall, knew I was supposed to feel like it was following me. Knew it was supposed to haunt me, send a little shiver down my spine. But I wasn't scared of Alfie Solomons. Not when I knew we were playing the same game for the same side. Alfie wouldn't harm a hair on Sylvia's head, wouldn't harm me as long as I was there to protect her. He wasn't half as insane as he wanted people to believe, he wouldn't start a war he couldn't win. Not if he didn't need to. And not over a teenage ballerina.

When I opened the bedroom door I saw her already lying on the bed, eyes fluttered shut. She'd changed into a black t-shirt and a pair of woollen socks which had slid down her shins and bunched up around her ankles. She wasn't sleeping but when I closed the door behind me and crossed the room to sit in the chair by the door she didn't stir.

She looked peaceful but I knew it wasn't peace which held her so still now. She was tired. To the bone tired. Lying on her front, the t-shirt which covered her hardly covering her at all. She'd not bothered to pull the covers over her and I could see the goosebumps on her thighs.

I remained quiet, lent into the back of the chair to try and get comfortable. Rested my arms on the arms and tilted my head back against the wall. Closed my eyes for a moment but only as long as that. Opened them again when I changed my mind, decided I couldn't take my eyes off her just yet.

So I stole another glance at her soft silhouette, admired the way her edges seemed to fade into the sheets, the way the lamplight glowed on her skin.

And then she stirred, pushed herself up slowly, lethargically turning her head to look back at me from across the room.

"What?" I asked with a smirk when her sleepy eyes locked with mine, she looked so expectant, a little confused. For a moment I couldn't work out why.

"I thought you were tired?" She frowned.

"I'm fine," I shrugged though it was obviously a lie. I was exhausted. Not so much physically - though my muscles ached and my head was undeniably heavy - but emotionally, mentally. She'd put me through the fucking wringer over the last 24 hours and I felt absolutely wired. Head static electric buzzing in a way I knew meant that even if I did shut my eyes and try to sleep, I wouldn't get any rest.

I'd been hoping to burn some of that adrenaline off in the gym earlier but any pent up frustration I'd managed to unleash had quickly been worked up all over again by her. The sight of her teetering so delicately, the realisation of her fragility when Solomons had knocked her balance, fucking Solomons himself and his relentless little jabs. It was taking all my self control not to leather him, to let his comments wash over me, water off a ducks back. Not that I was letting them wash over me. I'd never been very good at letting things go, always a little too quick to rise to a fight, always holding grudges and resentments. And my resentment for Alfie was building by the second. I was holding myself together for Sylvie's sake. Doing as I knew Tommy would tell me - staying calm, rising above the old man's petty jabs - because if I didn't it would be Tommy I had to answer to when shit hit the fan.

If I lost my temper and Sylvia suffered for it, there'd be no forgiveness spared for me.

"I'm fine," I said again when she fixed me with a smirk. "I'm watching the door."

"Bullshit." She coughed, the tinkle of laughter in her voice catching me out.

"Doin my job sweetheart..." I said gritting my teeth, trying not to let her wind me up. It was difficult, she really had a way of winding me up.

"You're falling asleep." She said, her voice deadpan as she let herself fall back down against the pillow, her voice a little muffled by the sheets when she called out to me. "Come on Saiah, share the bed, don't be a pussy..."

Her tone was mischievous, and the sweet sleepy way she had looked at me from the pillow made it so hard to remain frustrated with her. Even when I could tell she was trying to push my buttons.

"Not gonna be much of a bodyguard if you don't get some sleep," she said then, her voice a soft sigh as she yawned and nestled into the bed a little more. I heard the shifting of cotton over cotton and when I opened my eyes and looked back at her I saw that she'd rolled over. That her t-shirt had ridden up and gathered at her hip. That she was looking straight at me with dusky glowing eyes, her dark curls slipped from behind her ear. Her cheek was resting on her hand and her body looked lazy and soft.

I wasn't exactly sure how much sleep I was going to get either way. Lying beside her or watching over her from the armchair in the corner of the room.

It wasn't her teasing however that made me give in to her. It was something else. Something fleeting, something I only really thought I saw. A flicker of doubt in her eyes. A flicker of trouble which reminded me of the Sylvia I knew when she was young, when she was little Fen Shelby running riot through small heath with her sister. When she'd been the twin who shied away, the twin who hesitated. The twin who often looked to me with worried brown eyes when her older brothers would lower their voices and suddenly start speaking in lower tones.

For a moment she looked scared.

Scared and young and so very very tired.

She looked like she needed me to give in, lie down beside her, yawn and drift off like drifting off was easy. So she could kid herself that drifting off was easy.

So I did just that. I stood with a sigh and i gave in.

I crossed the room quietly and kicked my shoes off, sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled my t-shirt off. And when I twisted to reach over her for the duvet I met her gaze again and saw that the Sylvia I knew had gone again. That all her doubt had disappeared, been replaced with that cold smirk, a different kind of trouble glowing in her eyes.

"Don't worry," she said, "I won't tell Tommy..."

And because we were suddenly in such close proximity, and because I was tired and my head was absolutely wired, those words were enough to throw me for a second. Enough to leave me frozen, looking down at her with a small frown on my brow. Enough to remind me how quietly surprised I'd been the morning she'd sat down in the garden, her cheeks angry and flushed. How even with the vitriol in her voice when she'd snapped at me, her prettiness had struck me. How I'd seen her then in a light I'd never seen her before. How I'd been reminded that whilst I'd grown up she had too. Wasn't just Tommy's little sister anymore. Was her own woman, somehow all the more defiant than she ever had been before. We'd always called her Trouble when she was a little girl, because both the twins had been just that. But now she was something more. Trouble in its most tantalising form, a trouble that was irresistible and infuriating in equal measure.

And she was lying there on her back, looking up at me with silent laughter in her eyes. Teasing me.

By the time my brain caught up with the rest of us she was already smirking at me. My silence more amusing to her than anything I could say.

"Why not love? He's already gonna kill me..." I said, propped up on my elbow, watching as she rolled her eyes and told me not to be so dramatic.

"I'm still alive aren't I?" She said nonchalantly, rolling over and nestling into the pillow, drifting off within seconds. Leaving me to fall down beside her, to try not to think about how close to her I was. To try not to dwell too much on our conversation. The murderous thoughts her brother almost definitely held me in for getting her this far.

Because as much as I believed by now that Sylvia would have torn away without me and probably could have gotten this far by herself, I couldn't deny that I'd helped. I'd killed a man for her, stolen a car for her, walked her right into Solomons office and stood by whilst he threatened us both. I'd already made a hundred decisions Tommy would have crucified me for. And whatever happened to us now, it was my fault. In Tommy's eyes his little sister's fate was entirely in my hands.

And as much as she put the fear of god in me with her unpredictable temper, that burning indignant streak, I knew she wasn't like us. Knew she hadn't been raised amid the violence, didn't really know the horrors the rest of us had seen. Because if she had she wouldn't have wanted to see Michael. If she had she wouldn't have left the safety of arrow house.

It was knowing that which made me certain I'd done the right thing in helping her. She'd have tried it without me and she'd have gotten far enough to kill herself. She might not have wanted it, or thought she needed it - or perhaps she did know and that was the root of her cruel streak - but she did need it. My protection that is. Or at least someone who knew her well enough to keep her safe from herself, the Shelby in her.

Looking down at her as she slept then, the sweetness which glowed all innocent on her somnolent expression, I was growing more convinced that perhaps now, after the last 24 hours, I was the only person who really knew her at all. And I didn't really feel like I knew her.

So despite the ache in my muscles and the exhaustion I felt permeating my whole body, my mind too, I couldn't sleep. Not properly.

Couldn't drift off and succumb to my exhaustion the way I realise now Sylvia had been hoping I would.

I couldn't tell how long I'd been lying there waiting for sleep to take me when she stirred. Only that the streets were still dark and the moon through the window still cast her in an ethereal glow. Only that I was still exhausted and the long wait for sleep had done little to calm my temper or my nerves. So when she tried to slip away from the bed instinct kicked in and before she could move I'd thrown an arm around her, dragged her beneath me and rolled on top of her, her hands pinned above her head. My nose brushing hers, eyes flaring unforgiving into her wide dear in the headlight eyes.

But her innocence was feigned and the second she tried to struggle against me and slip away, the second she realised there was no way in hell she could fight me off, her eyes narrowed and her venom took over.

"Get the fuck off me peaky boy..." She snarled, her wicked little smirk and the mischievous light in her eye sparking my temper.

"Are you fucking insane?" I whispered, struggling to swallow down my anger. My heart was racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I knew exactly what she had thought she was going to do and the hatred she had sparked in me then, the resentment made it difficult for me to control myself. "Sneaking off to see Michael? That where you think you're going? Are you fucking stupid?"

"I wouldn't have to sneak if you weren't so up my brothers arse!" She shot back, narrowing her eyes, trying to get under my skin. But I wasn't going to let her take shots at me when in trying to sneak out she'd proven just how naive she really was.

"You might have a bloody death wish Sylvia but I don't want your fuckin blood on my hands." I could feel myself shaking, my fingers wrapped round her wrists too tightly, the weight of my body on top of hers too much. But I was angry, and the girl needed scaring. That much was obvious when she rolled her eyes at me again.

"Solomons is hardly gonna kill me is he." She said, her voice drawling and bored. As if I was over reacting.

"Far worse our enemies would do to you if they got their hands on you sweetheart!" I said fixing her with an unforgiving stare. Her eyes locked with mine. An understanding flickering in them for a second before she tried to glaze over again. Tried to pretend my words hadn't reminded her of something she didn't want to remember.

"You can't stop me seeing him," she said, her whisper still so determined, there was something there though now, something which almost sounded like a real emotion, only served to piss me off more, "I'm not a fuckin child, a few cuts and bruises don't scare me..."

I had to bite back a laugh then. It was spiteful, mirrored the venom she was spitting at me. Might even have wounded her if she'd cared anything for me.

"They left your cousin for dead sweetheart, maybe you should fuckin see him eh, maybe you'd rekindle a bit of respect for the sanctity of life!"

She didn't try to hold her laughter back. Her giggle melodic but cutting. She didn't need to say anything to leave me swallowing down the urge to say something cruel, but she did.

"Have you heard yourself?" She sneered.

"You wouldn't even recognise him Sylvia, it was a thousand times worse than anything you've seen at ballet class."

"Don't patronise me Isaiah."

"Don't be so fuckin stupid then." I hissed back, forcing her back down into the mattress when she struggled again. Her leg squirming under mine because she was trying to kick me. "And if you ain't stupid you're fuckin selfish..."

She held my gaze, unflinching. Her glare cold. Perhaps more unforgiving than my own.

Beneath me she felt so small. I had to force the image of her trembling frame down, has to force myself to forget her dainty form as she had spun slowly, teetering on one leg, ethereal and delicate in the middle of the gym. Had to force myself to forget how sweet she'd been as a younger girl, how sweet I was determined to believe she still was. If I let myself believe she was anything but a liability, a threat which needed to be neutralised somehow, I'd let her do something stupid and we'd both wind up dead.

With my chest pressed to hers I could feel her heart racing against mine. Could feel the tremble of her body, something she didn't want me to feel. I knew I was getting to her even if it didn't look like it. Even if she had that dead behind the eyes kind of Shelby cool to her.

"If the Changrettas get a hold of you, anyone gets hold of you sweetheart, they won't fuckin kill you, won't be worth very much when you're dead... Know what they will do though? They'll chop you up piece by fuckin piece to get to your brothers, you'll break Pols fuckin heart, and Esme and Ada. How many fingers and toes do you think you can lose before you start missing em eh Syl?" I asked gripping her wrist a little tighter than before, raising it to make a point, forcing her to look at her forearm, "think you'll still be dancing swan lake when some Sabini cunts taken a fuckin cleaver to your elbow?" She didn't say a word, just kept glaring back at me, determined not to let me scare her, but I was determined to do just that, determined to try and drive the point home. "Ain't a single fuckin Shelby wouldn't lay their life down for you so you might think about being a bit more fuckin careful with yours eh?"

She held my gaze but she didn't say a word and when she stopped struggling, stopped smirking, stopped speaking back, we simply stayed there, caught in a frozen moment. An unforgiving moment in which the two of shook subtly, me with rage and her with a spiteful determination.

"Trust me sweetheart death is not the worst thing...."

Her lips were pressed together and pouting, my body hovering above her held her sullen features in shadow. I could feel her breath on my skin and knew she could feel my breathing too. My nose skimmed hers as I thought about trying to explain myself again but in the end I didn't.

When she didn't say a word more I gave up. Rolled off her but kept a hold of her wrist. She didn't try to move though. Just lay there completely still. Eyes open, starring up at the ceiling. Her silence leaving me to wonder what she was thinking. Because the look on her face was glazed and cold, dead behind the eyes.

"Go back to fuckin sleep." I grumbled, my sigh accompanied by my hand to my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as I despaired. Already the guilt was prickling away at me, already the shame of having used that quiet kind of violence to stifle her, was sitting heavy in the pit of my stomach. But there wasn't a single thing I'd said to her that wasn't true. I might have been cruel to detail, but I hadn't lied or exaggerated. I'd simply told her the truth her brothers wouldn't. A truth she needed to understand if she was going to cut around pretending she already knew it all.

I lay on my back for awhile just listening. Stewing. Trying not to let her piss me off anymore than she already had. Trying not to let the guilt tug away at my heart strings. Trying to remind myself why I'd behaved as I had. So violently, so unforgiving.

Tried to remind myself it probably didn't matter. She hadn't given up because she was scared, she'd given up because she knew it wasn't reasonable or worth it to keep fighting me. She'd realised that in that moment trapped beneath me she couldn't win. That was all.

If I let go of her wrist she'd probably try again.

If I fell asleep before the sun began to rise she'd probably try again.

But in the end I did fall asleep. To the sound of her faint breathing and the city outside, London's halfhearted dawn chorus. Birds chattering and cooing, cars starting up, traffic sounds. The first footfalls along the pavement. Somewhere amid the rest of the worlds waking up I drifted off and when I awoke once more it was to an otherwise empty bed. A sinking feeling in my stomach. Not quite able to feel let down because I'd known all along that she'd leave me.

I let my hand rest in the space she'd occupied only hours before, flexed my fingers and groaned as I dragged my palm down my face and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Fuck." I hissed through gritted teeth.

I couldn't have slept for very long, an hour or two at best. I had that sluggish kind of sting in my eyes and my throat, that clinging lethargy. The rest had only served to highlight the extent of my exhaustion.

"For fuck sake..." I groaned as I pushed myself up and out of the bed. My heart had already started racing again, I wasn't going to panic about the situation but I was certainly feeling uneasy. Certainly already racing through the options in my head. Which way she'd have gone, how she'd have left. How she might have tried to get to the hospital.

She wasn't stupid enough to walk it, but then if she'd had no other choice. I could only pray she hadn't been naive enough to hail a cab in this end of town.

But as my feet hit the bedroom floor and I let out another sigh of despair I heard something which stopped me in my tracks. That fae like laugh, it drifted to me from the corner of the room.

And when I opened my eyes properly I felt a rush of shame at the way my heart lifted - not just with relief but with something else too.

Because she hadn't left. She hadn't really gone anywhere at all.

"What's the matter Saiah, bad dreams?" She smirked at me from where she was sitting curled up in the arm chair. Her legs dangling over the arm, one ankle crossed over the other, her feet and toes taut and pointed.

She held my gaze, her eyes bright and smug. She could see the panic Id been trying to swallow down and she would be more than happy to use it against me if I let her.

I didn't say a word, just fixed her with the same cold glare I had in the middle of the night. My lips pressed together, hands gripping the edge of the bed to steady myself. Because I wanted to snap at her again. Wanted to say something cruel, take all of my frustration out on her. Because even after everything Id told her last night, she still had the look of a little girl playing games. In fact now there was something spiteful in her eyes and I had a feeling I'd poked the bear. Had a feeling I'd made things a little harder for myself once again.

"Surprised to see you here." I said nodding to the window, "didn't fancy pulling a cat woman then?"

"You told me not to remember?" She said, forcing a pout, managing to hold her wounded look for two seconds before the sorry glow in her eyes was replaced once again by that dull antagonising smirk.

"Give over sweetheart." I said standing up properly, pulling my shirt on and walking to the window to look out over the rooftops and down into the courtyard where there was a young lad sitting on a bench with a cigarette. He looked up when my shadow caught his eye, confirming my suspicions. "Solomons is having us watched..."

"Obviously." She said.

She looked pissed off and when the penny dropped I couldn't help but chuckle.

"That why you're still here?" I asked, unable to help myself poke at her wounded pride, "didn't fancy trying to sneak out after all?" I grinned looking between her and the view from the window. It was just one lad and his dog and I couldn't imagine that would be enough to perturb her after everything she'd already dragged me through.

"Told you why I'm still here dickhead," she sighed slipping from the chair to the rug, crossing the floor to stand just in front of me, arms folded over her chest as she looked up at me sullenly. Her lips a downward curve. Something uncannily sweet about her now that she was stood so close to me. "If I'd wanted to go I'd be gone." She said so plainly that I knew once again it was true.

I thought about meeting her with the same fleeting honesty, a moment of genuine understanding. Thought about apologising for the way id pinned her down in the middle of the night, whispered all those evil images to her to try and frighten her into place. But then I remembered just how quickly she had turned on me before, just how quickly that glazed look in her eyes could take over. How swift the feeling was to drain from her. So I just sneered and pinched her cheek, something I'd regret much later.

"Oh Sylvie," I smirked, not needing to say anything else to upset her or rile her up. Only having to wink and turn away from her to leave her standing there with a quiet angry flush about her. Could feel her glare burning into the back of my skull.

Perhaps if I'd have realised what was waiting for us downstairs I'd have done more to keep her close to me. Perhaps if I'd been a better man I'd have realised that for the briefest of moments I'd seen the old Sylvia trying to drag herself back from the hollow place her mind had locked her away. Perhaps if I'd have reached out to her then, understood that we were on each others team, I'd have been able to keep her close enough to save her.

But I wasn't the better man. I was foolish, with a wounded ego, too easily scorned by her. So when we went downstairs and met Alfie in the kitchen, his feet kicked up on the table, lips wearing a smug little smirk, I didn't put up enough of a fight.

"Morning Alfie." I started already trying to hold onto my patience, already trying to anticipate the shower of shite he was about to start talking.

He didn't say it back, didn't even really look at me.

He was lounging on the sofa which stood in the bay of the window, the morning sunlight washing over him, catching the ginger flecks in his hair. He didn't look much like the suited gangsters I was used to, but then Alfie often didn't. In his white tshirt and a pair of black jeans, Cyril lazing on the sofa with his head in Alfie's lap. He didn't look dangerous and when I turned to glance at Sylvia I felt a disquiet stir inside me, because there was something a little too trusting in her eyes when she looked at him. If not trusting, something worse - wanting.

"I've been ruminating," he began, his fingers combing through Cyrils fur, giving him a gentle scratch as he spoke, "you know what that means lad?" He raised his brow at me. I didn't say anything because I didn't have anything nice to say. "Nah, well, never mind never mind, it's a big word ain't it, Ollie!" He called out suddenly, "Ollie my boy get in here would you!"

I turned slightly to look over my shoulder at the kitchen doorway, catching Sylvia's eyes as I turned. But when she met my gaze she looked straight through me.

A moment later Ollie came running in, a panicked look in his eyes behind his glasses. Even when he corrected himself and stood up straight, there was a nervousness about him as he anticipated Alfie's temper.

"There you are Ollie my boy, clever lad is our Ollie, any word you fancy, anything that stumps you yeah, can always rely on our Ollie to sort you out and see you right, yeah..." Said Alfie, "Ain't that right my boy?"

"Uh yes Alfie," he said adjusting the glasses on his nose. There was a look of nervous understanding in his eyes and I wondered how familiar he was with this routine. Had my question confirmed when he took a little dictionary from his trackie bottoms pocket and opened it. When I glanced back at Sylvia she was smirking, a wry little smile, the same bored look in her eyes.

"Now then, Peaky Boy, just you tell our Ollie what it was I said that confused you yeah, he'll be more than happy to help you out won't you Ollie lad?"

I fixed Alfie with a glare, gritted my teeth. Breathed in through my nose slowly. I didn't answer him, just held his gaze. A quiet challenge I knew I was going to have to lose.

"Well go on peaky boy, this is all for your benefit see, cause in a minute yeah, in a minute I'm gonna carry on discussing my here ruminations on a particular close-to-your-heart-matter and I wouldn't want you to get left behind right, cause that wouldn't be very hospitable of me would it?"

When still I didn't say anything Alfie chuckled. Ollie appeared to be growing more uneasy by the second. When I glanced at Sylvie, who stood a little in front of me, she didn't even really look like she was listening. She looked distant. Like she'd already turned and left the room, occupied her mind with other matters.

"Go on lad don't be shy, what word would you like our boy Ollie to look up for you... He's very fast ain't you Ollie, our literary prodigal son is our Ollie, can do it with his eyes closed standing upsidedown on one leg can't you boy..."

"Uh, yes Alfie..."

I remained as cool as I could, remembering the speech Tommy had given me when he'd asked me to look after his little sister. She was vulnerable even if she didn't believe it herself. And his men in London hadn't been lying. She did look sick, not so much sick as frail. Thin was the word I'd have used too. Stretched too thin, like she was trying to be too much, too many things all at once. Unsustainable was the word I'd use to describe whatever death wish trip she was on. And whether or not Alfie was pissing me off, humiliating me, trying his best to immaculate and demoralise me, I had to put Sylvia first. Couldn't start anything that might put her at risk.

But when I opened my mouth to bow down and give in the word left someone else's lips.

"Ruminating, quick as you can Ollie please," said Sylvia, "since this conversations clearly fuckin scripted..." She added with a little smirk, leaving me with gritted teeth trying not to show my frustration. Trying not to let Alfie see how nervous her erratic behaviour was really making me.

"Mind your manners little Shelby ain't your brother told you about minding your manners... Said it before and I'll say it again, need a fuckin father figure you, it's just fuckin sad at this point... Yeah yeah, alright, what have you got for us then Ollie my boy, Ruminating, R U M I N A T I N G, ruminating..."

The young lad stuttered a little, adjusted his glasses as he held the book up to his face and squinted at the tiny writing on the page. His accent was a lot more sophisticated than Alfie's, in fact he sounded similar to Sylvia and that put a smirk on my face, because he didn't exactly sound like he should have been running with Solomons.

"Uh, To Ruminate, verb... gerund or present participle: ruminating..."

"See, he's a clever boy is our Ollie, I paid to put him through school didn't I, fuckin generous old bastard me, and ain't it paid off..." Alfie spoke over the lad, lowering his voice, addressing the room as opposed to me or Sylvie. "Shame your big brother ain't so generous eh, think what you coulda been peaky boy... All that wasted potential..."

I remained stoic, turned my attention back to the poor lad reciting the dictionary behind us.

"To ruminate is to think deeply about something for example, "we sat ruminating on the nature of existence...." Carried on Ollie, his voice a little shaken in places as his eyes flickered between the three of us and the pages of his book.

"There we go see," began Alfie, giving Ollie a little applause, insisting he took a bow, "and this morning I woke up bright an early yeah, crack of dawn, and I sat outside yeah, cause that's what I like to do in the morning you know, nice cup of herbal tea, lemon and ginger, beautiful aromatics, fuckin lovely stuff is lemon and ginger herbal tea right..." he said gesturing a kiss with his hands as he leant back into the sofa cushions. "So, I like to sit on my bench outside in the courtyard and me an Cyril yeah, we like to listen to the birds for awhile don't we boy..." He said scruffing up the hounds coat as Cyril nestled into his lap. "Cause it's good for the soul that, birdsong, very healing, very grounding... Tell everyone that don't I, birdsong, it's good for the fuckin soul Peaky Boy."

"And so that's what I did this morning right, I thought to myself, here Alf, don't those little birds outside sound lively this morning, all their little chirpin an tweetin, fuckin beautiful right, and I took myself outside and I sat back under the shade of my old hawthorn tree, and I ruminated yeah, I sat ruminating on the nature of our here predicament..."

"And what predicament might that be Alfie?" I asked dryly.

"Oh you know," he said, one arm stretched along the back of the sofa, lazy gesture as he pushed his hair back, "the little gypsy wants to see her cousin don't she Peaky Boy, and she's a stubborn little miss ain't she... Doesn't seem to care that visiting the silly bastard could get you both killed does she... Don't seem to realise what a fuckin 'orrible ugly mess those Italiano cunts made of the poor sod..."

"Doesn't sound like much of a predicament to me Alfie..." I said coldly, trying to reason with him quietly, realising my mistake a moment too late. This was Alfie Solomons. You didn't reason with him, you only showed him your weakness, told him what you didn't want him to know.

"Well you see the thing is peaky boy, I'm doing my best to be hospitable here, ain't all that often a notoriously miserable old man such as myself finds himself with guests is it, better make the most of it hadn't I?" He offered me a little sneer, a taunting light in his eyes I'd have shot clean off his face if I could have, if I hadn't had to think of Sylvie first. "And well it occurred to me whilst I was ruminating yeah, that keeping the little princess all locked up here, well that ain't all that hospitable... Is it?"

"You're going to take me to see Michael?" Asked Sylvia. The hope in her voice almost broke my heart. Certainly struck fear into my heart.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah why not eh, a little Alfie/Sylvie bonding time yeah... You'll have to stay here mind lad," he said to me, finger pointed towards my chest, "I need some kind of guarantee don't I, you'll have to play collateral I'm afraid, case any of your lot get the wrong end of the stick and start throwing accusations around."

"Fuckin no chance..." I grinned in disbelief, shaking my head and turning to Sylvia, but Sylvia wasnt looking at me. She was looking at Alfie, her eyes glowing with hope.

"Oh come on lad you know how it is, can't just go galavanting around town with Shelby royalty when there's a war on, and not keep some kind of bargaining chip safe at home... You know how it is lad? She don't seem too enamoured with you right now either... Coupla hours apart might do you good yeah? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, ain't that what they say..."

"I said no, fuckin no..."

"I'm going." Said Sylvie without looking at me. Leaving me to freeze, speechless and full of dread.

"There we go see, look at that eh Peaky Boy, you see her face, how's an old softie like me sposed to say no to that delightful little smile?" He asked me, his eyes challenging me quietly to fight him, to try and deny Sylvie something he'd already promised her. The hope he'd dangled in front of her.

I was the enemy now. As simple as that.

"You said it yourself Alfie, she could get herself killed..." I started, knowing that nothing I said now would change Sylvia's mind. Feeling a devastating kind of desperation rip through me when I looked back at her and saw the decision had already been made.

"I'm sure Alfie can handle a couple Italians..." She said fixing me with a cruel determination. Daggers in her eyes. And I wondered then which of my actions had been the final nail in this coffin. Had it been the way I'd spoken to her this morning, so unforgiving, spiteful tone, or had it been last night when I'd pushed her down into the mattress, kept her trapped beneath me as I tried to strike the fear of god into her. When had I made myself the enemy? When had she decided to put her trust in him and not me?

"Oh aye, course I can, couple of Changretta's, a sprinkling of Sabinis, piece of piss, piece of pumpkin bloody pie, don't you worry peaky boy, I'll keep her safe..."

I swallowed a lump in my throat, fist clenched at my side.

"I'm not letting you go alone Sylvia!"

"You fuckin are mate those are the parameters as laid out by me, master of this here fuckin house... You either wait at home like a good little pup whilst me and the little miss head out on the town, or she don't fuckin go... Now I don't know about you but if it were up to me, I'd pick my fuckin battles yeah..."

"Sylvia..." I groaned.

"I'm going to see my cousin Isaiah..."

"For fuck sake girl! I'm not about to let you go an get yourself killed!"

"Oi, Peaky boy!" Alfie suddenly bellowed, his voice silencing the both of us, ringing out around the kitchen, startling Ollie so that he dropped his dictionary and began scrambling for it on the floor. "You don't fuckin swear at girls like that who do you think you are?" Snapped Alfie, squaring up to me, his finger jabbing into my chest as I stared coldly back at him. Met his eyes with a silent challenge. "Raising your voice at young girls like that, fuckin disgusting..."

I looked straight through him and then turned on him, crossed the room to Sylvia. For a moment I was furious, gripped with rage. Rage at the humiliation she was forcing me to endure, rage at her indignance, her selfishness. The anger sparked in me every time Alfie opened his useless mouth.

And then all at once I wasn't.

In the second I snatched at her arm and saw it - the bruise I'd left on her arm the night before, the shape of my unforgiving grip in a bracelet around her wrist - I lost just enough fight to give up.

I picked up her hand and turned her palm over in my mine. I felt the guilt twist inside me when I looked down at the mark I'd left. Felt like a hypocrite as I tried to plead with her once again.

"Sylvia I gave your brother my word... I ain't about to break it by letting you go running off round London with a f... psychopath..."

I looked down at her, met her cold eyes again. They were full of shadows. She was out of reach again and I could feel the hopelessness returning to me. The heavy feeling in my heart. Because she was determined and unfeeling and it hurt to see her so removed. Not quite a ghost but almost. Not quite a girl either. Knowing I'd pushed her into this corner. Knowing that if I'd been a little more gentle things might have been different.

"Now to be fair mate, to be fair right, she was already doing that wasn't she... Running round London with a murderous bastard... There ain't no denying that's what she was doing is there?"

I ignored Alfie. Sylvie just smirked. Held my gaze and smirked. I wondered if she could feel a thing. Had to lie to myself and believe it was all just an act. Believe I hadn't seen this look in her brothers eyes just before he gave the order to kill.

"Gave your brother my word..." I said again, losing all hope in the silence that followed. Losing all hope in the moment I saw her lips move around the words.

"Fuck my brother."

"Now now darlin there's no need for that eh, the boys only followin orders ain't he, like he said he just wants what's best don't you Peaky Boy... No need to swear eh, no need at all..." Said Alfie stepping up behind her, his hands on her shoulders, smoothing down her arms as he met my gaze with a smug glint in his eyes. "Now don't you worry Peaky Boy, she'll be perfectly safe with good old Alfie right, I'll look after her I promise... In fact you know what, you know what... You have my word."

And I knew there was no fighting them then. Knew that Sylvia had cut herself off from me, that she was out of reach now. Unfeeling and determined. I knew then that I'd lost her, that if anything happened to her now it was my fault. That I hadn't done enough for her and yet couldn't do anymore.

"Alright little darlin," said Alfie with a much sweeter smile when he looked down at her, his hand rubbed her back in a smooth circle and I felt my hatred for him twist deep in my stomach. "You run along and get your things, here I'll even let you pick the car eh, how about that?"

Taglist (sorry if you're on here and don't want to be I lost my taglist for trouble and I'm away and working from mobile so just had to copy the old one for everything)

@inalovesrabbits-blog

@zablife

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

@everysage

@tommyshelbyswhore

@kxnnxy

@starrykitn

call-sign-shark

Only-malala

galactic3a

darkcastle167

feyresqueen

[busterswritehand]

You're Timeless To Me

-

Roughly 180 years after the events of ACOSF, Lucien looks up to find that he is surrounded by strangers. Meanwhile, Nesta realizes she has stayed still while the world around her keeps moving. Misery loves company, but these two can hardly make small talk.

-

Part 14

-

Nearly a week and a half was spent negotiating the Summer Court's terms for the treaty. At first, Nesta thought it would be an easy sell. Tarquin was willing to listen and had little to no questions or objections. However, he turned out to be nearly as stubborn as Tamlin. She should not have been surprised in hindsight - he was a High Lord after all. Compromise was not in their nature.

Despite that, Tarquin was a friend of Rhysand and Feyre so he did not feel the need to indulge his pride as Tamlin had. One of the perks of negotiating with an ally. On top of it all, Nesta and Lucien managed to close negotiations earlier than anticipated. She was ready to spend a day cooped up in her room or the library relaxing before Summer Solstice celebrations.

Lucien had something else in mind it seemed. Instead of being tucked away reading, Nesta was following him down the winding streets of the city in the blistering heat. The humidity was not much better. Nesta silently thanked the mother for holding her braid together.

"Where are we going," she asked.

Lucien paused in the street, nearly causing Nesta to run into him. He looked around for a moment.

"I'm not sure anymore," he shrugged.

"What do you mean?" She snapped, "Don't tell me you dragged me out here for an aimless hike."

"Tarquin insisted that we visit the beach if we had time." Lucien rubbed the back of his neck, "I should have asked for directions."

"You think?" Frustrated, Nesta walked past Lucien. She could hear his footsteps hurrying to keep up. "If we're going to be lost, then I'd like to at least be tipsy."

She could hear Lucien chuckle to himself. Even when he managed to piss her off, he did so with a honey-coated voice. It was as annoying as it was comforting.

"Lead the way," he said.

They wandered around for a quarter of a mile when they stumbled on a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The two found a small table near a window. From what Nesta could tell, they were the only customers. It only took a few seconds for a young faerie girl to bring them out drinks and an array of appetizers.

Lucien gave his thanks to the girl before diving in. Nesta looked at her drink which was clear like fresh water. She quickly found out that it was not water. The black licorice smell hit her first before she tasted it. The drink itself was fiery, forcing a few coughs out of her. Lucien watched on with an amused expression. He took a sip from his drink.

"How can you stand that?"

Lucien shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a citizen of the world."

"I thought it was pronounced the band of exiles," Nesta mumbled into her drink.

She winced at the burn in the back of her throat. Looking up, she noticed that Lucien was taken aback by what she had said. Right. Nesta had almost forgotten about Jurian and Vassa. It was easy to forget when he never mentioned them. Then again, how often did she talk about what she had lost?

Nesta's gaze sofetened.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned," Nesta trailed off, not sure if she should say their names. Lucien looked down at his food as if he was avoiding the same thing. Nesta felt her heart tug. She cleared her throat. "The heat makes me cranky."

It was a flimsy excuse. She was all too aware of it. The realization that Lucien had to hear it made Nesta want to put her head through a wall. She expected an eye roll from him at best. Instead, Lucien looked at her with his usual mischievous grin.

"Then you must be warm all the time," he said.

Nesta kicked his leg softly under the table, unable to mask her relief at his bad joke. Lucien let out a small laugh in response. Their eyes met at that moment, and something happened. Nesta couldn't put her finger on it, but it was one of those rare moments of complete and total understanding. They saw each other, wholly. The joy, and the pain behind it.

They didn't speak for the rest of the meal. She didn't mind. It was a comfortable silence. They were able to simply enjoy each other's presence. Nesta set money on the table when their drinks were empty so they could get a move on. Hopping out of her seat, the alcohol hit her system. She tried to find her balance but still stumbled in the process. Lucien grabbed her arm and back, keeping her steady. It surprised her how fast he was able to get to his feet.

"It's stronger than you'd think," he said.

"Thanks for the warning," she quipped, poking his chest.

Lucien made sure they got directions this time before leaving the restaurant. Nesta walked in front of him, determined to find the beach at all costs. The heat caused the alcohol to wear off fast, and a dip in the water sounded refreshing.

After nearly an hour, they finally arrived at the shoreline. It was undoubtedly worth the walk. The sands were white, and the water was crystal clear. It was tempting her. Nesta wasted no time kicking off her shoes and tying her skirt up to her knees.

She slowly approached the water, letting the waves crash over her feet. It wasn't nearly as cold as the river in Velaris. Lucien walked past her, trousers rolled up to his knees. His brown skin and red hair glistened against the light of the sun. Nesta turned her head to look at the endless ocean in front of them.

"Why did you decide to take me here," she asked.

"It's important to experience the territories you're negotiating with."

Lucien's response was so clinical - it was too rehearsed. She did not believe him. He wasn't wrong, but she had a feeling there was more. Nesta turned to Lucien. Nesta approached Lucien, causing the tips of her dress to brush the water.

"Why else?"

Lucien's gaze fixed on her. He took a moment before responding.

"It's been a long couple of weeks." He stared down at the water. "And we haven't made any progress with your dilemma."

He was right. They still had no clue why Feyre and Rhysand would invade her mind. Part of Nesta doubted that Lucien believed her which only made her appreciate his determination more. Not many people had ever put their faith in her. Nesta was glad that he did.

"I rather like this consolation prize," she said.

"I'm glad to hear it, especially after all that complaining."

Nesta shot him a warning look. Lucien's smile and the gleam in his eye were nothing less than smug. She wanted to wipe that expression off his face, so without a second thought she splashed him. It did the trick. Lucien blinked in surprise.

Before she could gloat, Lucien splashed her with the force of his entire arm. Nesta jumped back, trying to evade the water. She slipped on the loose sand. Lucien tried to catch her, but they tumbled into the water. Nesta resurfaced to the sound of Lucien's barking laughter.

"It's not funny," Nesta said, trying to hold back her own laughter. "We're drenched."

"We'll dry off," Lucien said.

He brushed the hair out of his face with his hand. Nesta had not noticed before, but Lucien's shirt was completely see-through now. Feeling her face heat up, Nesta jumped out of the water and turned on her heel. She headed back for the shore.

"Where are you going?" Lucien called after her.

"To dry off," she said pointedly.

Nesta didn't bother looking back at him. She spent a considerable amount of time ringing the edges of her skirt and blouse dry. Feeling her braid start to slip, she let her hair down to air dry. Lucien approached Nesta, sitting by her side.

"Tired of the water already?"

He shrugged, "I wouldn't call it my element."

Nesta hummed a response. She faced Lucien and noticed that he was staring at her. He jumped like he was breaking out of a trance.

"I just haven't seen you with your hair down before."

Lucien turned his head from her. Nesta noticed a slight blush tinting his cheeks and ears. She hadn't realized how harsh the sun must have been today. Nesta wondered if she was starting to burn as well.

"I'm not used to it either," she joked.

"It looks good," he mumbled.

She felt her eyes widen and her breath catch. Nesta cleared her throat. She never was good at taking compliments. She nodded her head in thanks, looking out at the water.

They relaxed on the beach for an hour or so. The symphony of seagulls, crashing waves, and the sea breeze filled the silence between them. It was just the relaxation she needed - if only she had brought a book. Nesta hated to admit it, but this was the perfect place to read. It was also the ideal spot to doze off. It practically took everything in her not to.

She suspected it was the same for Lucien. He shifted around for a while before standing up. He extended a hand to her. Nesta considered for a moment before accepting. She followed him to where the water met the sand.

They wandered down the strip of damp sand. The gap between them closed as they walked further down until their hands brushed against each other. It was an accident, and yet her heart skipped a beat. Nesta hastily brought her hands together, fiddling with them. She kept her focus on the water.

"It's getting late," Lucien commented. "Maybe we should head back."

Nesta looked up at the sky to see the sun start to hang low. She nodded in agreement. They turned around and began to head back towards the castle.

[theintrovertbean]

I bet you can't tell which one of them is my favorite (sarcastic)

I'll make another post later about Nadia because I love her so much I might need therapy 😭

I'm participating in brainrot's Vesuvia Weekly prompts and I'd like to encourage eveyone to join ^.^

Also, brainrot has a Discord server now, so if you're interested in getting to know others from the fandom and bond over our beloved character, I kindly recommend that you join. It's a safe place for every simp 💜

The Arcana Main 6 x Dara relationship dynamics

Asra: There is some romantic potential between the two, but it's not very much. They were childhood friends and are still very close. Because of that, people often mistake them for lovers. When I say they are close, I really mean it. Asra has no problem hopping into Dara's bed for some cuddles and he's one of the very few people who are allowed to touch them. They pretty much go everywhere together and even though they have separate beds in the shop, they often end up sharing. He's invited to every family gathering and special occasion. Dara can be a little oblivious when it comes to how others feel about them (coughs coughs Nadia coughs choughs), but Asra, being the cheeky person that he is, doesn't shy away from letting them know that a certain Countess might be in love with them. Asra was the first person Dara kissed, btw.

Nadia: Oh I could talk about these two all day. True love. That's it, true love. They met during the plague and quickly fell in love with each other. However, they didn't confess their love until after Nadia woke up from her coma. Dara is introverted but warm and patient, which is something that can be said about Nadia as well. Their relationship is as comfortable as it is passionate, filled with affection and care. They're both givers, which means they spoil each other 24/7 with gifts and all forms of affection. Neither of them trusts easily, but since they're both patient and kind, opening up was not a big issue (except that one incident but that's gonna be explained in Wounds of Magic, Scars of Love.) Nadia is Dara's favorite person in the entire world and they're giving her the special treatment. They seem like an open person, but there's still so much that they hide about themselves. Not from Nadia, tho. Nadia is the only person that Dara tells everything. They have some trauma, and so far, Nadia has been the only one they completely trusted with it. Whenever something happens, Dara's first thought is that they have to go and tell Nadia about it. No one is allowed to touch Dara without asking for first (except Asra and maybe a handful of other people), but Nadia is always an exception. Actually, Dara wishes she would touch them all the time. There is something about the Countess that makes Dara feel things that no one else ever has before. It's a relationship based on lots of love and mutual respect. When it's just them, everything feels so easy. They can be just Nadia and Dara with each other and I think that's beautiful. There's no pressure, no expectations. Just love. If there was a love story about a star and the moon, it would be about them. Hand in marriage when?

Julian: Dara can't really decide how they feel towards Julian. On the one hand, they'd party with him. On the other hand, they're giving him a bombastic side-eye. Julian is not bad and Dara is okay with hanging out with him once in a while, but they can't imagine getting any closer to him. However, sometimes they hang out at the Rowdy Raven and chat over some drinks and they worked together during the plague. When they share a common goal, they're willing to work together towards it.

Muriel: Sweet Muriel is a childhood friend of Dara. They drifted apart but later rekindled their friendship. Or more like, Muriel tolerates Dara more than he would with other people. Dara isn't someone who would force anyone, which is something that Muriel appreciates. However, Dara makes sure that Muriel never feels forgotten. Whenever Dara goes somewhere, they bring him back a little gift or occasionally show up at his hut to say hi, bring some goodies, and pet Inanna. Whenever there's an occasion, Dara invites Muriel and sadly, he often says no, but Dara lets him know that they could hang out later. Just the two of them. They both like chickens. Dara sometimes asks if they could hug Muriel.

Portia: Besties. They bake together and gossip together. When Dara and Portia sit down, they simply can't resist spilling all the latest tea. You know what TikTok trend about whoever brings up xy has to pay first? Yeah, it's them. I swear to gayness, they're like two grandmas. They pet and feed stray cats. Maybe occasionally bring them back to the Palace until Nadia says it's enough. Portia is someone that Dara trusts and considers a true friend. Lots of inside jokes and uncontrollable laughter. They also think that she's cute.

Lucio: Another character with romantic potential. At first, Dara just wanted to punch him. Now they want to punch him and then make out with him and it really confuses them. They're still salty about the way Lucio treated Nadia, but they also understand that Lucio is in some serious need of a therapist. With that being said, Dara is someone that Lucio can talk to about his past. As soon as they begin to understand why Lucio is the way he is, their judgement and hatred for him starts to disappear. When Lucio had the plague, Dara did their best to ease his suffering. If he ever needs a shoulder to cry on or just someone who listens, Dara is always available. They want to get drunk with him.

[bartletslesbians]

Top 5 TWW episodes? 💜

Thank you for asking!

Okay so first of all, so sorry for responding to this so late! I saw it, said "hell yeah! I'll answer in the morning", and by the time I'd woken up, the email was buried and I'd forgotten about it.

Second of all, this was so difficult omg. I could list ten more and it'd still feel like an incomplete list. But these came to mind first, so!

Institutional Memory

It has everything! My favourite character in this show (it shows in the other episodes listed) is CJ, and this is just such a good episode for her, the good and the bad parts. I love the attention to how hard it is to look beyond the White House; how stuck in this role, in this duty to serve, she is.

In this episode, we get to see CJ and Danny try, fail, then succeed, to figure it out. I honestly really love that she's the one to initially screw it up. It's really one of those moments where you completely get where she's coming from, it's perfectly understandable, but also god bless Danny because I'd have walked away a little sooner. We also get to see CJ and Toby's long awaited reunion and it's as difficult yet beautiful as it should have been. So much to be said just about that one scene really. We get a Matt and CJ interaction! We get the only scene in the show where CJ and Andy exchange more than a few words (which as a CJ/Andy girly, appreciated), and it's such a loaded conversation, I love every moment of it.

There's just so much happening, and it all focuses on CJ, and I love that. (Also, other than the small bits of chicken she nibbles on, she rejects all food offers despite not having eaten yet, and girl has me worried.)

2. Ellie

I think that next to Andy, Ellie Bartlet might be one of my favourite side characters. Her introductory episode is everything; and I love rewatching it. Ellie and Jed's relationship is so painful, so realistic, so special to me. It hurts to watch but I can't stop watching. It's also my dad's favourite episode to watch with me, because at the very end there he can smile at me when Jed says "the only thing you ever have to do to make me happy, is come home at the end of the day", which makes it a special episode.

Sidenote, it's also the episode where we get the lines "first, I have to be nice to a Democratic Congresswoman" "Will that be difficult?" "It was when I was married to her". Where we get Sam and Andy having a lovely quick interaction that has sparked personal headcanons on their friendship, and some one-liners like "drop the danish," "oh I missed patronising and sexist Toby", and "I was talking about myself [in regards to 'prettier heads']". Excellent stuff.

3. Evidence of Things Not Seen

I'll try to keep this shorter but !! the poker game, the jokes, the SHOOTING. CJ's entire reaction to that shooting. I've written longer posts on it but it just gets to me! One day I will write a fic about her next briefing after getting shot at in the briefing room. The way she didn't even jump out of the way of the bullet, but refers to her cat-like reflexes. Her continuing to have faith even when Toby and Ed/Larry calls it out. Jed and Leo being so damn worried when they hear CJ, Toby, and Will were in the room. Donna and Josh's entire plot here! Just. I love it.

4. Mandatory Minimums

Three of these episodes feature my beloved Andrea Wyatt and that's no coincidence. Her introduction! It's a perfect introduction. She offers her ex husband pie for a government meeting before she refuses to back down on telling the White House that mandatory minimums are racist and they should care about that. She calls a grey sky a beautiful day. Her constituents bake her pie. She dates Orioles people and is stupid enough to get into their car after they've had a few drinks. I love her. Other than that it's also a great episode; I love Leo's moment, I love CJ's scenes even though they make me so mad on her behalf; I love the shouting match with Danny. This is part of (one of) CJ's under-apprecation arcs and it breaks my heart for her but it's always really nice to see Allison act it out so perfectly.

5. Celestial Navigation.

WOOT CANAW. I don't need to explain anything more. Yes, the other plots are good and important too, and I love CCH Palmer in this episode. It really shows how frustrating politics is sometimes and how flawed this administration. But the funny parts make it shine. Sam and Toby's roadtrip, the damn stars, Mendoza going antiquing. Josh's briefing; Danny's "okiedokie"; Carol's foul look at Josh after the briefing. It's perfect. Just perfect.

[justporo]

"but what if there was just a way how Tav and Astarion could just be young and beautiful, but also healthy and happy, together - forever?"

call me naive or crazy, but i am pretty sure this is actually possible (this IS the forgotten realms)

the clone spell for Tav to live forever (doing the spell every certain amount of time)

Hexxat a vampire from Baldur's gate 2 had the Cloak of Dragomir, which could allow Astarion to walk under the sun (although the penalties…but still! The clock proves that it is possible! we just have to find him something better!)

besides, Astarion has something very powerful on his side, his friend group

there is Gale, GALE, need I say more in regards to help with research?!?!

Karlach and Wyll may be in the hells, Lae'zel is in the astral plane, the chances of them finding something somewhere that could help their favorite mosquito are quite high i would say

Shadowheart also would help however she can

like, I honestly believe Astarion's chances of living a life as good as when he had the tadpole are actually pretty high (and I love that what could probably help him achieve this is friendship, the most powerful vampire in the realms being a vampire spawn that didn't sell his humanity, but embraced it, seems wonderfully poetic and very fitting to me)

Oh, I do believe there are ways to cure Astarion of his vampirism or just the - let's call them "negative" side effects. Because I do believe Astarion actually enjoys being immortal and young forever for example, I guess maybe even the blood drinking isn't as bad for him now that he can source it "ethically" and doesn't have to devour rats either.

(I actually headcanon that if Tav and Astarion would settle down in Baldur's Gate they'd maybe find like a local butcher where Astarion can source a steady amount of blood since he doesn't want to hurt Tav and he might not be able to always make the effort to go outside the city to hunt animals or something.)

The big thing is probably really that he can't walk in the sun. I guess Tav and Astarion would let things settler a little, maybe take at least a little breather before they go on, but Tav promised Astarion to find a way to help him and so they will.

I'd bet they would hit up Gale in Waterdeep because the wizard is the most scholarly of all the companions. Then they'd take it from there.

I really dig the idea of Astarion's friends helping him and this being the solution.

But alas, fanfic writing angst bitch that I am - I'd like to take it all with a grain of salt: if Astarion was to ever walk in the sun again, it would come with a price attached. There are no easy happy endings in this realm I feel like.

(And not saying that I haven't been thinking about a longform project where Tav and Astarion go adventuring to find a cure, but also not not saying that... hehe)

[inwintersolitude]

- May 1st 2025 -

1) How old do you look? People usually seem to think I'm around 30.

2) Where do you live? Northeast Ohio.

3) Are you waiting for something? I'm waiting for my husband to call me back. He went back to work today after a week and a half of vacation time, and he just got to the hotel and he's going to call me once he's done eating dinner.

4) What's one pet peeve of yours that is not common? Restaurants that have that "modern industrial" look that seems to be trendy nowadays. Concrete floors, corrugated metal ceilings, etc. I hate it so much. When I go out to eat, I want the restaurant to feel comfortable and inviting, not like I'm dining in a freakin warehouse.

5) Last myspace message you received, what'd it say? There's no way to know, since I haven't used Myspace since like 2009 and the site is long gone now.

6) Can you handle the truth? Sure. Sometimes there's no choice but to deal with it.

7) Did you cry today? Nope.

8) Do you hate the last person you had a conversation with? No. I love him more than anything.

9) Do you have kids? Nope.

10) Have you ever thought about converting your religion? I've deconverted from the religion I was raised in. I don't have a religion now.

11) Last shocking news you heard? Horrifying political happenings. There's too much of that lately.

12) What was the last thing you drank? A strawberry protein shake.

13) Last person you hugged? My husband.

14) Who do you most look like in your family? I look a lot like my Great Grandma when she was my age.

15) Did you dream last night? Yeah, but now I've forgotten what it was.

16) How many piercings do you have? Two. My earlobes.

17) If you could have something right now, anything, what would it be? A cure for hearing loss/tinnitus/hyperacusis.

18) Does anyone call you babe? No. I hate that word and my husband knows that lmao.

19) Where does most of your family live? My brother, sister-in-law, and nephews live in this same town. My parents still live in my hometown, about 45 minutes away. My maternal relatives live in Delaware. And my paternal relatives live in New York, Massachusetts, Illinois, and California.

20) Where did you grow up? Mostly Ohio. But I was born in Delaware and then lived in Louisiana as a toddler.

21) Where do you want to go on vacation? Japan. <-- Same! I want to go there so bad.

22) Have you broken a bone? Yes, but just a finger and a toe. Nothing serious.

23) What did you receive for Valentine's Day? My husband bought me a flower arrangement.

24) Have you ever had a panic attack? Yes.

25) Can you sleep in jeans? Nope. I can barely wear jeans at all because of sensory issues, there's no way I could fall asleep in them.

26) What can't you wait for? My husband and I are going to see the Cleveland Orchestra perform Mozart's Symphony No. 40 next weekend! And the weekend after that is the opening day for our town's summer farmer's market.

27) When's the last time you told someone you loved them and meant it? About an hour ago.

28) Have your parents ever smoked pot? I was shocked to learn a few months ago that they tried it a few times when they were in college hahaha. They're both VERY straightedge people, I never would have guessed.

29) Want someone back in your life? I wish my Granddad was still alive and well.

30) Do you live near your most recent ex? I don't have any exes.

31) Are you good at giving directions? Yep, I have a weirdly impeccable sense of direction and I'm good at explaining directions to others.

32) What do you order at the bar? It's very very rare for me to go to a bar, but I'd get a gin and tonic. It's one of the few alcoholic drinks I actually like.

33) When was the last time you cried really, really hard? A little over a month ago. My tinnitus was flaring up after being at a very loud wedding reception, even though I wore heavy duty earplugs the whole time and stayed out in the hallway for much of it. But my ears are SO sensitive and it was still enough noise to make it worse. I woke up in the middle of the night and my tinnitus was so distressing that it gave me a panic attack.

34) Who was your last text from? My husband.

35) Ever licked someone's cheek? Yeah lmao.

36) what is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter? Apple slices.

37) Where were you on July 4th, 2007? Probably at my parent's house.

38) What body part(s) do you wash first in the shower? My hair.

39) Have you ever kissed anyone who's name started with a D? Nope.

40) Do you prefer warm or cold weather? Normally I'd say cold weather, but this past winter was bitterly cold, even more than the normal amount of cold/snow we usually get, and it was literally 5 months straight of freezing temperatures. So yeah, I'm tired of the cold right now! That being said, I don't deal with hot weather that well, it makes me feel sick and lethargic. My ideal temperature is cool/mild, about 60°F.

41) What do you currently hear right now? The refrigerator running, and my tinnitus but thankfully it's not as bothersome right now.

42) Does someone like you right now? Yep.

43) Could you go out in public looking like you do now? Haha nooo. I'm wearing pajama pants and a massively oversized t-shirt, and my hair is gross and needs to be washed.

44) What are your nicknames? Kel, Mer.

45) On the opposite sex where do you like them to have piercings? I find piercings on men to be unattractive. However, I find most men in general to be unattractive… lol.

46) If you could go any place in the world right now where would you go? I'd go visit my Granny in Delaware.

47) Have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something? I don't think so?

48) Have you ever kissed someone and hated it? No, but my husband is the only person I've ever kissed.

49) What is your favorite color? Dark blue or forest green.

50) If you could go back in time, how far back would you go? I love history and archaeology, so I'd go to a ton of different time periods.

[wanderingthroughsands]

I. Things we can’t control

Maybe I'm going crazy You're looking at me like we just had a fight as I'm waking I know it is hard to let go The things that I have said as you lie in bed til tomorrow I keep my secrets tonight

– "Don't believe your dreams" by The Burma

„Becca, you are a lifesaver!”

Usually, when I arrive at the office early in the morning, the rooms of our editorial department are still hushed, with only few voices to be heard. In Venetta Publishing we start our day by powering up the equipment (and waiting a few minutes for it to be fully operational), exchanging brief pleasantries, and savoring coffee from the small café on the building's ground floor. And it is precisely this coffee that seems to be what saved the life of my internship supervisor, Veronica Craig.

"Thank you so much", Veronica said with a broad smile as she leaned over her desk to take the cup from me. "And I promise, this is the last time I'll ask you to bring me coffee. I don't want you to remember this internship that way."

"I've already forgotten about it", I replied, smiling, as I took my seat, placing my own cup and bag on the windowsill behind me. "Besides, what kind of intern would I be if I didn't do this at least once? Isn't that what we were made for?"

"Not here."

Our desks were arranged in an L-shape, giving me a perfect view of her profile as she leaned back in her chair and almost reverently took the first sip of her drink. I decided to use the moment to turn on my computer, which, as usual, stubbornly ignored my commands.

"You wouldn't believe the morning I've had!" Veronica continued after a moment, visibly relaxed just by holding a cup of coffee in her hand. "And what a night! If it weren't for Martin and his extremely important meeting this afternoon, I'd probably have taken a sick day."

"Why, what happened?" I asked, still not looking at her, but at the ever-blinking loading icon on my screen. I swear, just entering the password on this machine should earn a degree in computer science.

"Luke stayed over last night", I thought I heard this particular note in her voice that involuntarily brought a smile to my face. Noticing it, Veronica quickly added, "But that's not the reason for my distraction, young lady! At least not the only one. I was plagued by nightmares all night."

"Nightmares?"

"The worst ones! As soon as one ended, another began, as if they were determined to torment me. The last one was so intense that I woke Luke up and wouldn’t let him fall asleep until morning, just to avoid going back to sleep."

I tore my gaze away from the computer and finally looked at her closely. Despite her makeup, she indeed seemed tired, if that could even be said about someone as energetic as Veronica. Her eyes were smaller than usual, and the few wrinkles on her forehead suddenly appeared more pronounced.

"Do you remember what that last nightmare was about?"

"The doomsday", she replied instantly, involuntarily adopting a serious tone. "I was watching the world fall apart. Pieces of buildings were being sucked into a vortex hanging in the sky, streets were tearing away from the ground. I knew it would pull me in any moment, but there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. So I just stood there… and waited."

"Didn't you and Luke watch some horror movie or another 'documentary' series on conspiracy theories before bed?" I asked, sketching quotation marks with my fingers.

Veronica responded with a lopsided smile.

"We had more interesting things to do", she said, making me snort and shake my head, exchanging amused glances with her.

"You know what?" I said after a moment of silence, as Veronica once again clung to her coffee cup. "Next time you have a nightmare, try to remember this conversation. Think of me and how you told me the doomsday was just one of your bad dreams. It usually helps me to rationalize my dreams like that."

"I read a similar piece of advice online when I couldn’t sleep, but I’ve never been able to pull myself out of a dream."

"Then I'll help you", I said, putting on the most endearing face I could muster. "Just look at this friendly face; how could you have nightmares when you see it?"

"Let’s not forget this friendly face brought me coffee today! A true remedy for a nightmarish night and a nightmarish day!"

Venetta Publishing became my second home just under two months ago. After several unsuccessful job interviews, I ended up applying here just and quickly started to learn the entire publishing process from Veronica and a handful of other editors. It might not have been the fulfillment of my college dreams, where I imagined myself in a large, thriving editorial office, but day by day, I grew to appreciate the intimacy and almost familial atmosphere of this place. Every day around noon, someone would go out to bring lunch for everyone. The couple who ran the business were demanding but also very willing to share their knowledge. And most importantly, I got to work with words, helping aspiring writers, who longed to one day see their publications on bookstore shelves, to make their dreams come true.

Living with my mom allowed me to afford this job. My earnings were enough to pay off my student loan and contribute to the household bills, so it’s safe to say I was living much like many other young people still searching for their perfect path.

I tried so hard to be happy with a life I built for myself. I found satisfaction in conversations with colleagues, in my mother's pride, in meetings with friends, in occasional dates...

But that constant sense of fear and anticipation, the sense I could never forget, always drew my mind back to the world of the night, to the endless loops of dreams and nightmares, where I could finally do what I really felt best at—awakening.

After a full day of work, I usually took the train home, followed by a bus that dropped me off almost at my doorstep. That day, on my way back, I was talking on the phone with Alyssa, a college friend, about her upcoming wedding and choosing a destination for the honeymoon. When I got to the apartment, mom was already there—sleeping on the couch after what was evidently an extended shift at the hospital.

"Rebecca?" She murmured, hearing the sound of the lock turning in the door.

"It's me", I replied, instinctively lowering my voice. "Go back to sleep; I'll just put away the groceries and head to my room."

"How was your day?" I could barely understand her through the massive yawn that accompanied the question.

"It was fine. Veronica gave me a few sample chapters to review. Get some rest, mom, you have another night shift tonight."

"I know, I know... I just wanted to see you for a quick minute."

I sighed softly and knelt beside her with a gentle smile on my lips. She was loosely covered with a blanket, and the messy bun she had hastily tied before leaving yesterday had left no trace. Despite her exhaustion and demanding job, she still looked very young for her age. My gaze wandered over her delicate face, then to her work uniform, which she hadn't taken off upon returning home, finally settling on the ID badge pinned to the front pocket of her apron. Meredith Surrey, RN.

"My beautiful girl..." Mom smiled broadly and reached out to touch my face. "I left dinner in the oven for you, in case you're hungry."

"Thank you. How was hospital today?"

"Rough shift", she replied, briefly closing her eyes. "We had three victims of a car accident; apparently, the driver fell asleep at the wheel. He was with his five-year-old son and unfortunately... That sight really got to me today, you know? The father will never fully recover, and when he finds out his child didn't make it... Maybe that's why I just had to see you now."

"Mom..." I felt like working as a nurse constantly reminded her of my accident, which she had taken much harder than I did. As far back as I could remember, it had always been just the two of us, and my mom had always worked hard to ensure I never view it as something negative. It was thanks to her and only her that our life was so good and peaceful.

"Try not to think about it anymore; there was nothing you could have done to make the situation better."

"You're right, dear. What happens to us is so unpredictable; sometimes there's literally nothing we can do..." I didn't respond, so mom smiled again and added, "Go eat something and rest, you definitely need it. I'm taking a day off tomorrow, so maybe we can spend the afternoon together?"

"Sure", I said, standing up. Before leaving, I tucked the blanket up to just below her nose. "But for now, sleep. You still have a few hours left. Should I wake you before nine?"

"No need, I've set my alarm. I'll come say goodbye to you before I leave."

Between returning home and locking the door behind my mom, I spent most of my time reading—first the sample chapters from Veronica, then a book that had consumed most of my free time over the past three days. As night fell, a familiar sense of anticipation began to build, urging me to put my reading aside. Just like before every night full of nightmares, a new energy surged within me, so distinct from the usual mundaneness of daytime. I felt... excited. Alive. Ready.

I lay down in bed in complete darkness, listening to the muffled sounds of the street and the upstairs neighbors' TV. It was nearing eleven, and the fatigue was beginning to make itself felt. I rubbed my eyes, as if trying to rid them of sand, then yawned and settled comfortably on my pillow.

I knew perfectly well what would happen next. I couldn't wait for it. Falling asleep was, as usual, accompanied by a sense of anticipation, mixed with just a touch of fear. For a fraction of a second, this feeling reminded me of the couple from the park, who over the years had become somewhat hazy and unreal in my memories.

And then the nightmares began. I passed through them as if moving from room to room, extending a hand to the troubled dreamers, creating passages for them to the real world. Some nightmares lasted only a few seconds, while others seemed to stretch on for hours. Periodically, Every so often, I would take a break in the green world I had found myself in right after the accident – there, I rested on the grass and watched beautiful, peaceful dreams unfold. Yet, I would return to the nightmares fairly quickly, knowing I was needed there. I woke people of all nationalities, creeds, children and the elderly, women and men, pulling them out of their own terror, showing them the way to wakefulness. Some freed from the nightmare themselves as soon as I convinced them that it wasn’t real. Others I guided personally, offering help and reassurance. This night was no different from the others, during which I kept fulfilling my personal mission of awakening. That is, it wouldn’t have been different, if not for…

Fiddler's Green, as some of the dreamers called this place, was invariably peaceful and warm, like a summer afternoon. I wandered through it leisurely, searching for the next door to the next nightmare, just as I had the very first time. Time itself flowed a little differently here, allowing me to meet hundreds of people in a single night and give each one enough attention. And within the Fiddler's Green, I could ‘rest’ from my duties  and let my mind drift away a little bit.

And it was here, for the second time in my life, that the feeling returned – the rustling bushes in the forest, the overwhelming tension that directed my gaze between the trees.

A man with dark hair, his skin as white as snow, emerged from the forrest with a slow, calm stride. Just like that day in the park five years ago, he was dressed in a long, black coat that gently billowed in the wind, and as he approached, he looked straight into my eyes. In his dark irises, I saw true infinity, as if he held the entire universe within himself…

But I saw something else too, something that made my heart suddently beat even faster – a threat.

"It was a challenging task to find you, Rebecca Surrey", he said in a deep voice that could crumble rocks. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, and though I desperately wanted to take a step back, something held me in place.

"It is not very challenging to hide in the world of dreams, is it?" I replied, trying to sound as calm and confident as possible. „Most people do this every night.”

He smiled, but there was absolutely no joy or amusement in that smile. In fact, I couldn't discern any emotions on his face – yet I had the overwhelming, crushing sense that I had never before been in greater danger.

"You only hide when you have reasons to", he said, each word bringing him closer to me until he finally stopped, so close to me that if I were taller, our faces would almost touch. "No one of your kind should interfere in other people’s dreams. That is why I cannot allow you to do this any longer."

"I don't really come here on purpose, at least I hadn’t when I first appeared here.” I said. „It all started with the accident I had five years ago. And with... seeing you."

"Me?" A flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes, but only for a second. "Rebecca Surrey, what you do endangers both your world and mine. And if it's not stopped, it could cause permanent damage that even I will not be able to repair."

"Stopped?" Despite the fear slowly creeping into my stomach, I still couldn't look away from his eyes.

"It truly saddens me." He tilted his head, as if observing a capricious child. "You are an anomaly. A threat to the Dreaming; a threat that must be eliminated for my realm to remain intact."

"Then show me how to stop appearing in others' dreams. Believe me or not, I don't want to hurt anyone or cause destruction; I only wanted to help. But if my actions cause any harm, I'll give it up right here and now."

"Even if you stop interfering with nightmares, your unexplained power is too great for me to allow you to live with it.” He replied. „Harmony must be maintained, and you, Rebecca Surrey... you disrupt the harmony."

He reached out to grab my shoulder, but I immediately recoiled. A dark shadow passed over his face as he saw me retreat.

"You do not want to challenge the Dream Lord," he said coldly. "You would not succeed. I’m only doing what I must to keep both my world and yours safe."

"I’m sorry then, Dreamlord" I replied, gathering all the strength inside me that had always helped me wake up, "but I just can’t let you do that. You will have to find another way."

I clenched my eyes shut, and when I opened them, I was lying in my own bed again, gasping for breath, overwhelmed with fear... with the mysterious man's statuesque face still etched in my memory.