#encouragement kindness friends fireflies

[sketchesinstillness]

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag VII (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

{Happy MLK weekend! He would've wanted this!}

~

Your back rested against your headboard with your gaze fixed on your mirror on the other side of the room. You were staring at yourself, but not really. Your mind was somewhere else entirely, and you chewed on your lip as Rafe’s even breathing filled your ears. You glanced at him, taking in his sleeping form before meeting your own gaze in the reflection again.

You’d done many things to bring on Rafe’s wrath, most of them harmless. It happened so often that you now lived your life completely differently, hyperaware of every thought and every action from both you and him. After all, you had to learn from your mistakes, right? You had to guess the best course of action to avoid a violent outcome. It was always something harmless…

…but almost kissing JJ Maybank was not harmless.

Sneaking off to The Cut with Sarah and her friends was bad enough. There was no telling how Rafe would react if he knew…but almost kissing JJ? The thought of Rafe finding out about that was so nerve-wracking that it actually made you shudder. It didn’t even feel like something that actually happened at times because…you knew better. It was something so incredibly stupid that you couldn’t have done it…and yet…

You still thought about how close he’d been. You thought about that calming natural scent of him that was just so different from what you were used to being around. You thought about his nose touching yours, his chest grazing yours, and it wasn’t shocking that JJ wanted to kiss you. It wasn’t even shocking that he tried. What was shocking was that you wanted to kiss him too, that some part of you wanted to let it happen.

You frowned, sliding out of bed with a racing heart.

Was it that shocking though? Rafe was horrible to you…and JJ wasn’t. The other blond was nice and funny and his own history with abuse drew you to him. It didn’t help matters that JJ wasn’t afraid of Rafe in the slightest. You didn’t want to linger on just how dangerous that could prove to be, thinking to yourself that it had been so long since a guy talked to you and treated you like your own person capable of your own decisions.

It felt good…and you felt guilty for that.

Rafe was still your boyfriend…even if he wasn’t a very good one, and JJ made it clear that he didn’t respect that. Even more so now that he suspected something was very very off about your relationship. The look in his eyes that day was something you still thought about—the determination. It bothered you that you couldn’t tell if it was determination to find out the truth or determination for something else entirely.

Maybe both.

You leaned against your window, staring out into your yard with a heavy chest. Never in a million years did you think you’d find your mind caught between Rafe and JJ Maybank. You’d long written the other guy off as dangerous, but maybe you had a hand in this too. In some ways, you had encouraged him, even without realizing it, and maybe this was you paying the price.

Both your thoughts and your gaze drifted to the pool house.

You knew JJ had finally taken you up on your offer. You had seen a faint light on one night while everyone was asleep, and you remembered the way your heart stuttered at the realization. You had stared out of your window for hours—even long after the inside went completely dark—just frozen with the knowledge that JJ was only so many feet away. You hadn’t talked to him since that day at the Camerons���, but you definitely saw him in passing a few times, and you always pretended not to know.

You’d done so to be nice, to offer him a safe haven away from his father, but you couldn’t deny the temptation you felt to go to him. Just to talk. Just to be around someone who reminded you of what your life was like before that fateful nineteenth birthday. Just talking to JJ felt so natural and relaxing, and your heart ached when you remembered how happy you felt with him and his friends…but then you remembered his nose touching yours and his lips being so close to yours, and you’d feel…nauseous.

Rafe would snap your neck if he knew.

…and with that thought you turned away from the window.

You could not let yourself get caught up with JJ Maybank. He liked trouble and he hated Rafe and you were the perfect opportunity to take part in both. You weren’t stupid. You knew that some of your appeal had to come from your proximity to Rafe. You were “Rafe’s girl”, you had been for two years, and JJ wasn’t as mysterious as he probably liked to believe. You knew that he would absolutely relish taking you from him, even if only for a night, and you refused to be that stupid.

No matter how much the thought made your stomach flip.

You had only ever been with Rafe, and you’d long accepted that he was only who you’d ever be with, everyone on this God forsaken island fearing him and his influence too much to even try it. However, with the new presence of JJ Maybank in your life, you couldn’t help but to wonder what it would be like to sleep with someone who didn’t terrify you.

Even your first time with Rafe—when you’d still been in love with him—had been wrought with fear and pain and confusion. It was a hard truth to swallow, but you realized that you’d never experienced sex without fear. That made you incredibly sad, and you blinked back tears as you slid back into bed. It was wrong, and you could never act on it, but for a split second—as you laid down next to your boyfriend—you briefly entertained the thought of lying down underneath JJ Maybank.

You swallowed down a sigh as you watched Rafe snort another line, Kelce’s laugh reaching your ears as your boyfriend mumbled something that was evidently hilarious. The music from the party was muffled, and you brought your cup up to take another sip of some beer you didn’t even like. When Rafe said you both were going to some party, you’d actually expected to be at the party.

However, with one sweep around the room, Rafe realized that the party wasn’t as exclusive as he’d like, and he’d holed you both up in a room with Topper and Kelce ever since. Topper was scrolling on his phone while Kelce and Rafe played hot potato with the drugs in their possession. Truthfully, you didn’t see why Rafe refused to party downstairs all because a few Pogues were in attendance. Especially since if you’d figured this was how your night was going to go, you would have just stayed home.

Ever since Rafe got back from Charleston, he’d been on you like white on rice, but of course, your presence didn’t matter much once a few white lines were placed on a mirror. Swallowing down yet another sigh, you pushed yourself off of the wall and made your way to the window. There were far too many people in the yard and pool for you to be comfortable with, but anything seemed better than this.

You were downing the rest of your beer when someone caught your eye.

Your hand lowered, and your lips parted, thinking to yourself that this party was far less exclusive than Rafe knew. You supposed it wasn’t that weird to see JJ strolling into the yard, especially since he was with Sarah, but the sight of the familiar blond had you swallowing. Knowing that he was at the same party as you made you feel anxious for so many reasons.

“I have to use the bathroom.”

The words came out before you could stop them, silently wondering to yourself what you were doing. When you turned around, Rafe’s gaze was on you, and you didn’t think you liked the look you saw there. Your boyfriend’s lips were pressed together as he eyed you, and you didn’t miss his snort.

“Yeah, the last time you ‘went to the bathroom’ I had to track you down on the streets of Kildare County…all because you wanted some ‘air’.”

You rolled your eyes at both his tone and his words.

“I’ve been drinking beer for an hour. You want me to pull my pants down and pee in front of your friends? My bladder’s too full to be as embarrassed about that as you would be,” you threw at him, jutting your hip out.

The flare of Rafe’s nostrils didn’t escape you, and after a stretched silence, he merely jerked his head. You pretended not to feel the heat of his gaze as he watched you leave, and once the door was shut, you headed for the stairs instead. While you did need to throw your cup away, it wasn’t like there wasn’t a trash can in the bathroom. However, you wouldn’t admit to yourself the real reason you came downstairs.

On your way to and from the kitchen, you craned your neck, eyes scanning over familiar face after familiar face…but just not the one you wanted to see. You refused to acknowledge the disappointment that ate at you, and telling yourself that you didn’t want to push your luck with Rafe, you quickly hurried up the stairs because you did actually have to pee.

Despite how much you wanted to hide out in the bathroom, you made your visit quick, telling yourself it’d be just your luck for Rafe to give the drugs a break to time your absence instead. There was no telling what time Rafe would decide to leave, and you grimaced at the thought of what the night had in store for you. You’d just opened the door and turned out the bathroom light when a grip on your arm was pulling you down the hall.

It happened so fast that you didn’t have time to process what was going on until your eyes passed over the back of a familiar head of blond hair. Your lips parted, too many conflicting emotions bubbling up inside of you for you to focus on just one. However, once JJ had you around the corner, fear quickly trumped the others.

“Are you drunk?”

Your question came out harsher than you meant, and—true to what you were learning was JJ fashion—the guy before you ignored it.

“I saw you downstairs.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you straightened. His blond hair was messier than usual, something you noted you kind of liked, and the long-sleeved shirt he wore was kind of big on him. You glanced at the way it just barely hung on his shoulder.

“You looked like you were looking for someone.”

His next words pulled you from your thoughts, and your gaze met his. That small smirk on his lips annoyed you, and you took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t. Is that what you followed me up here for?” you wondered.

JJ didn’t look like he believed you, but he clearly opted to let it go.

“When’s the next time you’re coming to the other side of the island?” he asked. “They kind of like you…even Kie.”

You felt your face fall at that, almost wishing that they didn’t. It would certainly make things easier, but knowing that his friends enjoyed having you around just as much as you enjoyed being around them… You honestly didn’t know if you’d ever hang out with them again, and that was what you told JJ.

“Why?” he scoffed. “…because of Rafe?”

You both knew your verbal answer wasn’t required.

“I get it, okay? I’m JJ. I’m a guy who also happens to hate him, but you can’t even have friends? You’re telling me he’d really lose his shit if you dared to tell him you’re going to hang out Sarah and whoever?”

“Those are your friends…not mine,” you weakly replied. “Just because I hung out with you guys for one day-.”

“Don’t give me that,” JJ cut you off with a frown. “Until that day I didn’t even know you could smile that wide.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, clenching your jaw. JJ wasn’t wrong, and that was why the whole situation sucked. You didn’t have it in you to tell him that you loved being around him and his friends and his environment only to immediately admit that Rafe would choke the shit out of you for even daring to talk to him.

“I should get back,” was all you said, ignoring his words.

“For what? It’s not like you don’t have time. I doubt Rafe is going to pull himself away from the drugs long enough to notice how long you’ve been gone,” JJ said with a shrug, judgement coloring his tone. “…besides I…”

JJ trailed off, a peculiar look on his face as he eyed you.

“That’s not only why I followed you up here.”

You struggled to hold his gaze, the sound of some cheers reaching your ears from downstairs. You had a feeling as to what JJ was going to say, and you desperately hoped that he wouldn’t. Some part of you was even tempted to just walk away and avoid this conversation forever if you could. However, another part of you desperately wanted to stay right where you were, remaining still even when JJ moved closer.

“The last time we talked,” he quietly started, eyes searching yours. “I was a little harsh…and I’m sorry.”

You swallowed.

“…but I don’t regret anything I said, just how I said it, I guess.”

You glanced away, eyeing the wallpaper in the hallway.

“I don’t regret anything I did either.”

Your eyes snapped to his at that, and you felt your heart racing. You could see it on his face that JJ was telling the truth, and you didn’t know how you felt about that.

“I would’ve kissed you…if you hadn’t run away,” JJ whispered in the dark hallway, and you exhaled. “Right in his house.”

“You…can’t do that,” was all you could bring yourself to say.

When JJ stepped towards you, you were finally forced to step back, shoulder grazing the wall. He tilted his head at you, eyes never leaving yours.

“Says who?” he wondered, tone serious. “Your boyfriend?”

He swiped his tongue between his lips, crowding your space, and the mention of Rafe reminded you that you’d been gone a long while, now.

“…because we both know it won’t be you.”

Those words had your nostrils flaring, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You ran away because you’re scared of Rafe…not because you didn’t want to kiss me.”

You hated how right JJ was, and you couldn’t even find the words to argue that.

“So what?” was all you could say, not even denying it. “Rafe’s my boyfriend, and you…are not. Sue me for being loyal.”

“I don’t think it counts if you’re loyal for the wrong reasons,” he threw back, and you scoffed.

“Are there wrong reasons for being faithful?” you incredulously asked.

“Well, being scared into it for one.”

You didn’t appreciate his tone, and you moved to turn away when he grabbed your arm again. When JJ pulled you against him, you sharply inhaled, and you reminded yourself that you really needed to get back to Rafe…your boyfriend. The heat of JJ’s hand bled through the sleeves of your dress, and against what your brain advised, you found your gaze drifting to his lips.

“I know you don’t want to be with him,” he breathed, and you blinked, eyes meeting his again. “Does he have something on you? Is it…some…Kook appearance thing I just don’t understand?”

Hating how many questions he was asking, you twisted out of his hold, stumbling away.

“Stay out of my relationship, JJ. I’m serious,” you threw over your shoulder.

You said it for both of your sakes, and you left the blond in the hall as you hurried back to the bedroom. Kelce and Rafe were playing their own music, the full effects of the coke hitting them, and you were beyond grateful. It seemed Rafe had been too high to notice just how long you were gone, and so all you could do was smile at him when he welcomed you with a sloppy kiss.

Topper was finally joining in when you glanced over, bent over the desk and snorting half a line.

“Bro, when I went downstairs to get a drink, you know who I saw?” the younger blond chuckled, wiping his nose. “Fucking Pope and your sister, man.”

Your heart had skipped a beat, only to relax when he continued. However, his next words shortened your relief as well as caused Rafe to pull away from you.

“How much you want to bet that piece of shit JJ is here too?”

You pressed your lips together at the mention of the guy who you’d literally just been in the hallway with, and you hated the way Rafe’s hands briefly tightened on yours. Your boyfriend let out a laugh that held no trace of humor, sadly shaking his head.

“Yeah, lets get out of here,” he scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

You hated the way Rafe pulled you along like being in the same house as people from the other side of the island was the worst thing imaginable. Doubly so ever since you’d gotten to know Sarah’s friends. You thought about what JJ said, about how they’d grown to like you, and this moment only reminded you that you would probably never experience that again.

As if to make you feel worse, you watched Rafe briefly pause once he was downstairs, and one glance around him clued you in on just what he was looking at. Perhaps ‘who’ was a more appropriate term, and your heart sank as Rafe strode along, pulling you with him. You were unsurprised—but no less disappointed and annoyed—when Rafe harshly bumped into JJ’s shoulder. Your eyes were wide when they glanced at JJ just as Rafe spoke.

“My bad, man,” your boyfriend drawled. “It’s a bit crowded in here.”

Nothing about Rafe’s tone was apologetic, and you pressed your lips together at the sight of a half-smile on his pink lips. Your eyes briefly met JJ’s, pleading as you could see the desire for a fight on his face. You knew that it wasn’t solely because Rafe had bumped into him, and when he glanced at you, he only scoffed.

“Very Rafe of you, Rafe,” JJ commented.

It was a harmless comment, but the coke in Rafe’s system wouldn’t allow him to let it go. Dropping your hand, he moved closer to the other blond, head tilted to the side.

“What did you say to me, Pogue? Huh?”

“Rafe…” you called reaching for him, but he shook your hand off.

His face was so close to JJ’s, and through the crowd, you could see Pope and Sarah hurrying over. When you looked over your shoulder, Kelce and Topper were only now coming down the stairs, unaware of the disaster about to happen. Wanting to prevent this fight for so many reasons, you grabbed Rafe’s arm again, pleading with him.

“Rafe, let’s just go.”

You didn’t know if it was the coke or Rafe’s second nature of putting his hands on you, but he didn’t even spare you a glance when he shoved you away, his hand on your chest forcing you to stumble back.

“Stay out of this,” he said, finally looking at you.

It was something he’d come to regret because JJ’s fist had connected with his face before he could even turn back around. You stumbled back some more in shock, recalling the last time they fought and just how violent and bloody it became. The party inside came to a temporary halt as everyone took notice, and by the time Kelce and Topper came over, Pope had joined in too.

Some part of you wanted to leave. After all, Rafe had gotten himself into this mess, but another part of you forced you to remain rooted to the spot. You wanted to make sure everyone would be okay, one above the rest, and oddly it wasn’t the blond that was your boyfriend.

You jumped when Sarah made her way to you, her hand on your arm as she pulled you close.

“Are you okay?” she asked as you watched some guys try to break up the fight.

You knew what she was referring to, and you nodded.

“Rafe’s high and…more agitated than usual,” you defended.

You only realized how it sounded when Sarah gave you a look.

“So? He shouldn’t shove you like that,” she spat, throwing her brother a nasty look as Kelce helped him to his feet.

You blanched at the blood on his face, recalling that both JJ and Pope had been fighting him, and it was clear your boyfriend was very angry about that fact. He barely spared Sarah a glance as he roughly told you to come on. Assuring Sarah that you’d be fine—even with coke in his system—you reluctantly followed after your boyfriend.

However, not without a glance over your shoulder. Your eyes met familiar blue ones, and your face fell at the anger still visible on JJ’s face. Telling yourself that was something you couldn’t concern yourself with, now, you hurried outside. Rafe was obnoxiously honking his horn as you hurried to his truck, and you were barely inside before he was speeding off.

You tuned Kelce and Topper out as they placated Rafe from the backseat, somehow convincing themselves that this wasn’t his own fault. Your gaze was fixed on the window as you crossed your arms over your chest, hating yourself for only being concerned about JJ and Pope in this moment. You hadn’t gotten the best look at either of them and even though it was two against one, you knew your boyfriend well.

He was never one to go down without a fight.

“…and what the hell was that about, huh?”

It took you too long to realize that the focus had shifted to you, and when you glanced over, Rafe’s blown out pupils were fixated on you.

“What?”

“You know what,” he spat between clenched teeth, glancing at the road. “What was with you and trying to stop me from kicking that Pogue’s ass?”

You blinked at him, unable to hide your feelings at his audacity.

“We were at a party, Rafe, and you were trying to start a fight. Was I just supposed to let that happen?” you wondered.

The other two in the backseat had grown quiet, either from nosiness or no desire to get in between Rafe and his girlfriend.

“It was JJ,” he slowly said to you. “Who gives a fuck if I give JJ a well-deserved beating?”

“Well, how did that turn out? Did you get what you wanted?”

The words slipped from your mouth so easily, and the look that Rafe gave you cut deep. He glanced at you again before a slow smile spread along his bloody lips, a chuckle escaping. When he reached over to rest his hand on the back of your neck, you swallowed. A shudder passed through you at the feel of his fingers tracing patterns into your skin.

“You better be glad that all I want to do tonight is find those Pogues and knock their teeth out,” he mumbled.

His words sounded so loud to you in the vehicle though, and despite how much you wanted to argue against that, you knew that you could never tell Rafe what to do. When he parked in your driveway, you didn’t spare him a glance as you hopped out, but you were sort of forced to when you heard him follow behind you.

His truck was still running, so you could only hope to guess what he wanted as he followed you to your door. Once there, he roughly grabbed your arm—so tight that you winced—and you leaned away when he got very close to your face. You eyed the blood on his own face, the messiness of his dark blond hair, and you prepared yourself for anything as he sneered at you.

“The next time you try to get between me like that, the next time you try to protect some Pogue, I’ll break your fucking fingers,” he hissed, nose pressed to yours. “Do you understand me?”

With the pain of Rafe’s fingers digging into your arm, you gave him a shaky nod. He roughly let you go, and you reached up to rub the sore spot, watching your boyfriend make his way back to his truck. Considering how high and angry he was, you didn’t expect him back for hours. You doubted that Pope and JJ were even still at that party, almost positive they’d left when you guys did, but knowing Rafe…

He'd drive around Outer Banks for hours just to find them and get them back.

With a shaky sigh, you turned and reached for your keys, but your movements were halted by a faint noise. You merely glanced up, not giving it much thought, but pausing in surprise when you saw none other than JJ standing in the doorway of the pool house on the other side of the yard. You almost dropped your small purse, gathering your thoughts before worriedly looking out into the road. With no sign of Rafe’s truck, you hurriedly stomped across the grass.

“You don’t know how many fences I hopped over and backyards I trespassed on to beat you here.”

That was his greeting to you, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was simply trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. You didn’t have the patience.

“Why did you hit him?” you demanded, and you watched JJ’s face cloud over. “I was going to get him to leave, to leave you alone.”

All traces of humor were gone from the blonde’s face, and you hated the way he looked down his nose at you.

“Was that supposed to be before or after he shoved you again?”

You snapped your mouth shut, frowning at the younger man. His blue eyes didn’t look so blue in this moment, and you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he stared you down. You blinked at JJ, your frown dissipating some as the realization slowly came to you.

“That’s why you hit him?” you slowly wondered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he breathed. “Did I need any other reason?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before letting out a sigh. You glanced away, shoulders dropping, and you gently shook your head.

“JJ…” you looked at him. “Rafe was high…agitated… That was nothing, and especially nothing to start a fight over.”

“He shoved you!”

“…but I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me,” you tried to make him understand. “Just pissed me off more than anything.”

“…and at your door?”

Your heart sank with the knowledge that he saw that, and you let out a long sigh. You could feel the blonde’s gaze on you as your own found the ground.

“So, he grabbed me,” you said, shrugging at him. “You’re making this more important than it is.”

JJ looked at you like you were crazy, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“…because it is important, Y/N…” you were sure that the only other time you’d heard JJ say your name was the night of that first fight on the beach. “Your boyfriend isn’t supposed to shove you and grab you like that…”

How could you tell JJ that Rafe had already done so much worse? That in the grand scheme of things, a little shove and a tight grip really didn’t mean all that much to you? All things considered, today was a relatively good day when taking into account how things could’ve ended. How they still could end…

As if JJ read your mind…

“He doesn’t have to smack you around and put you in the hospital to be an abusive piece of shit,” he softly continued. “He shouldn’t be touching you like that…no matter how minor you think it is.”

It felt…odd to be standing in your yard having this conversation with JJ Maybank of all people. Even more odd, his concern for you left an unfamiliar feeling in your chest. You could only describe it as warm, and you knew that he was right, that no matter how minor, none of it was okay. However, your relationship with Rafe had left ‘not okay’ territory so long ago that what happened today just didn’t faze you.

When you glanced up, JJ was staring at you, and despite the fact that your house was just on the other side of the yard…it felt like just the two of you.

“I would never…touch you like that,” he told you, stepping towards you. “No matter how angry at you I am…there’s just some things you don’t do.”

You struggled to swallow.

“You’re not my boyfriend, JJ…he is.”

“I know,” he quietly said. “…and you know I think you deserve a better boyfriend.”

“Of course, you think that,” you bitterly laughed. “You… Don’t try and make it seem like your intentions are pure.”

You tilted your head.

“You like the idea of fucking with Rafe.”

JJ raised an eyebrow at you.

“I could think of a thousand more ways to fuck with Rafe that don’t involve fucking his girlfriend.”

Your eyes widened sharply at that, and you blinked, fighting to ignore the heat in your face at his honesty. You felt paralyzed as JJ took another step towards you, and you were struggling to respond. JJ’s hand gently touched your cheek, and you shuddered at the feel. This didn’t go unnoticed, and you didn’t know why you didn’t stop him when his hand slid to brush along your neck too.

“You’re right,” JJ whispered, looking between your eyes. “I do like the idea of fucking with Rafe.”

Your chest felt so heavy, heart threatening to leap from it.

“…but I like the idea of being with you just a little bit more.”

“JJ,” you warned, reaching up to grab his hand.

His other found a home on the small of your back, and you reached back to grab that one too. You were sure it made an interesting sight—JJ trying to embrace you, and you with a half assed attempt to stop him. You ducked your head, but that didn’t prevent him from brushing his lips over your cheek, and you sucked in a sharp breath.

“I don’t respect your relationship, and I especially don’t care about your boyfriend,” he murmured against your skin. “…and you not wanting to kiss me solely because you’re afraid of him just isn’t good enough for me.”

You lifted your head at that, eyes stricken as you looked at him. His hand on your back twisted, clasping your own and holding it tight. Your nerves grew at that, and JJ’s face was serious as he gave you his undivided attention.

“Would you feel better if I just took it?” he wondered, making you frown. “I mean…”

He moved back, taking you with him.

“If I make you kiss me…then you’re not cheating, right?”

You furiously blinked at him at that, and despite how much you wanted to shake your head, you found yourself glancing at his lips instead. JJ spun you, and your back met the wall of the pool house. With nowhere to go, JJ pressed himself against you, and your breathing grew shallow. A voice in the back of your mind told you that he was right.

Some part of you didn’t want to be a willing participant in this, at all while another part desperately wondered what it would be like to kiss him. With you pinned against the wall, you could appeal to both parts, and you surmised that it was evident in your eyes because after swiftly pinning your wrists at your side…

JJ brushed his lips against yours.

It could barely be called a kiss at first, just the faintest touch of his lips to yours, but then you closed your eyes…and let out a sigh you didn’t know you’d been holding…and JJ completely swallowed it. His mouth completely covered yours as he deepened the kiss, one of his hands letting yours go to reach up and rest on your neck. You moaned at the action, and your head spun.

Kissing JJ felt like something you hadn’t felt in years. It reminded you of the beginning of your relationship with Rafe, when you weren’t afraid and apprehensive to lean up and press your lips to your boyfriend’s. Back when kissing him didn’t feel like a chore, an exchange, a plea from you to remain unharmed and an unsteady promise from Rafe that he’d no doubt break.

The feel of JJ’s lips moving against yours made heat swirl deep in your gut, and it twisted and twisted until you squirmed between him and the wall of the pool house. JJ’s other hand was on your waist, now, holding you in place, and it felt like everywhere he touched burned. You honestly could’ve let him kiss you all night, not sparing a second thought to Rafe.

…but unfortunately, that never lasted long, and your hands met JJ’s chest the moment cold blue eyes appeared behind your own. Your breathing was heavy, JJ’s too, and you stared at your fingers on his chest for a long time. You almost didn’t believe what had just happened, but the heat clinging to your skin helped ground you to reality and the fact that it very much had.

When you finally met JJ’s gaze again, you wished that you hadn’t.

The blond looked like the last thing he wanted to do was stop, and you started to wonder what was worse­—JJ yearning for something he didn’t even know…or JJ yearning for something he did? Your pink lip-gloss was all over his lips, and you just stared at the sight for a few seconds before swallowing, very aware of the tightness in your throat. You slowly slid from between him and the wall, and he let you, hand grazing your waist as you moved by him.

You felt like you were in a daze, walking on something unsteady like air or water. All you could manage to tell JJ was ‘goodnight’, stumbling back towards your house. You only looked over your shoulder once when you made it to your door, unsurprised to find JJ still standing there and watching you. You were quiet going into the house, and several parts of you were fighting.

On one hand, you were beyond terrified of what you’d just allowed to happen, and what that meant for you if you couldn’t hide it. The possibility of Rafe’s wrath had you shaking as you undressed the moment you made it to your room. On the other hand, some part of you was too focused on the memory of JJ’s lips to care. You couldn’t cool off no matter how much you tried, lying in bed for hours and staring at the wall.

When Rafe finally returned, you welcomed his apologies, actually receptive to his advances for once. It felt wrong to let him kiss you and touch you and fuck you all the while with an entirely different blond in mind.

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Digging For Gold

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t always have to personally negotiate his business dealings, but what happens when one of them insists they’ll only deal with him? He heads out to the country to get it sorted, of course.

Word Count: 2,167

Content/Warnings: light mob themes, mentions of misogyny/ Bucky’s attempt at it, fem reader with minimal descriptions, minimal use of y/n, use of a pet name (Honey), Sam and Steve teasing Bucky and Bucky having none of it. Content below the cut.

Author’s Note: Well here it is— my first fic publication! I literally never write, but I’ve felt so motivated to get this down. Idek how I wrote this many words bc lord knows I’m not doing the same for school. Anyway, I digress. I hope you all enjoy. Comments, suggestions, asks, and reblogs are soooo appreciated!! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next >

Bucky was used to being turned down at first. In the fact, he was used to being turned down two, three, four times before getting his way. He always got his way, until it came to you. He had been trying to seal this deal for what was going on months now. Usually by his fifth ask, his clients got some sense into them, and in this case, sense means a threat of lead through the heart by a henchman. But that hadn’t phased you at all. If anything, it encouraged you to keep pushing back. A real piece of work, this girl was. Each time someone went to negotiate, they came back with their head hung low, sending in their boss to deal with her next as she had requested. Just for that cocky bastard to leave and come back doing the same. Why were they giving into your requests? They couldn’t help themselves when you had that convincing way about you, and neither could Bucky, even if he wanted to deny it to everyone around him. After months of asking for the next boss, you had finally reached James Buchanan Barnes: the head of his mob. Known for his ruthless nature, no one had ever come out of a deal saying ‘no’ to him. If they said no, they didn’t come out of the deal, simple as that. No one had seen his soft spots, and his buttons weren’t to be pushed. Too many had found out the hard way. The only one who could get away with it was his best friend who had known him since childhood Steve. More like a brother, and his only family left, at that. But it looked like he had a soft spot for you, letting you get away with dismissing these meetings, which is exactly why he needed to go himself: to show he wasn’t soft. To show that he could close the deal and his men lacked discipline when they fell to your kind charm. He’d go to this meeting and then wash his hands of the issue, making the deal he decided he had wanted months ago. He got into the back of his black town car and shut the door, directing the driver to start the long journey to the farm.

As he sat in the car, he wondered why the partition was up, as he heard singing faintly coming from the other side. He pushed the button for it to come down, to be greeted by a familiar pair of blue eyes that belonged to his best friend Steve and the back of Sam’s head.

“Oh heyyy boss. Fancy seeing you here,” Sam said keeping his eyes on the road and turning down the radio.

“Where’s Gio?” Bucky barked back.

“Oh calm down. He’s home relaxing with his family. Sam and I gave him the day off. Figured you’d need our help,” Steve said with a small shrug.

Bucky grumbled to himself something about being the boss while Steve and Sam exchanged a quick glance in the front seat before Sam spoke up again.

“Listen Boss, she’s already been through both of us. Obviously we can’t tell you how to succeed, but we can tell you what to expect going in there.”

“Plus we can remind you what we’re really here for and give you back-up none of us had the luxury of” Steve interjected, “the fact that you’ve waited this long shows you’ve got a soft spot for her, and we can’t afford to push this deal back any farther.”

Bucky knew that. He knew it was coming down to the wire “First off, I do not have a soft spot. Not since I was little, and you know that. I’d have anyone else’s head for even thinking such a thing. And second, if it’s so easy, why couldn’t you two have sealed this deal last month when you went, then? Huh?”

At that, Steve snapped his mouth shut and Sam kept his head forward, not daring to glance back at the mob boss whose jaw was clenched with anticipation.

“That’s what I thought. But go ahead, speak now or forever hold your peace, because when I go in there, I need to come out with a deal.”

He’d never let anyone besides his right-hand and number three men know how on edge he was for this meeting. He looked out the window hoping for the best and that his hard outer persona wouldn’t crack today as Sam and Steve started with their briefing.

When Sam pulled off of the pavement and onto the dirt driveway, Bucky’s eyes absorbed the rolling hills and abundant trees. It was beautiful, but nothing like his city. He enjoyed the tight spaces and routine rigidity of concrete. This was a different world. Her land was sprawling, far further than the crop fields sat. Acres for the cattle to graze and others that laid fallow. It was built over old mines. That’s why he wanted it all: for the tunnels. It would be so much easier to store and move his product, cutting transportation time and having discreet underground facilities if he could just strike a deal, but he’d finally met his match without even meeting her yet. A woman just as stubborn as him, but opposite in every other way.

Sam pulled up in front of a beautiful farm house. Modest, but chic and well cared for. Leaning against one of the posts that framed the front porch was her. Hair hidden under a cowgirl hat, well worn from work-filled days and in a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots showing even more mileage than the hat. Bucky looked out the window and let out a deep breath.

“Wish me luck, boys”

They both just nodded. A more than sufficient acknowledgment in their line of work. Bucky opened the car door and his red bottoms crunched the rocks beneath his feet as he sauntered over to her.

“Ms. Y/L/N. This has been a long time coming.”

“Indeed it has. Good to see you Mr. Barnes. And please, call me Y/N.” Her voice twanged.

Then she flashed him that smile, ugh how he hated that. She wasn’t even trying, but it made him feel an odd warmth that started deep in his chest. One that almost made it seem like it made his heart melt a little. A heart that was stuck in an ice age for as long as he could remember. Still, he couldn’t budge. He had to set an example for his men. How could he push an agenda he couldn’t fulfill? His thoughts continued to race as he stepped up to the bottom of the wooden steps leading to the porch. Not a good start with her literally having the high ground.

“Do your drivers want to come in? I don’t mind gettin’ them some refreshments while we chat.” She offered kindly. How was she so smooth? Bucky glanced back and Steve and Sam gawked at you though Steve’s window. Bucky made a mental note to have that tinted more so no one could see them embarrassing him and themselves in the future.

“No. They’re fine.” Bucky coldly, borderline spat back. “And you can call me by my name, as well, if we’re not doing last names. That’s mostly what I do with those I work closely with”

Bucky wanted to have a firm hand in these business dealings, but he wasn’t a total monster, plus, he knew in most cases, the more comfortable a client was, the more likely they’d give up benefits, sweetening up his own end of the deal. See? He was still working on wrapping you around his finger. He had this down, even if Steve and Sam didn’t think so. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself as you nodded with a soft smile on your face and led him inside.

Bucky followed you past a living room, flanked by a functional and methodically laid out kitchen. That gave him a better idea of who he was working with: someone who meticulously planned their work environment. Someone who cared for every aspect no matter how small. Everything had a place and made sense. Nothing unnecessary was present and it seemed ergonomic, yet modern and classy, like everything about you. His gaze lingered as long as he could until he had to pull his head forward to continue following you down the hallway to your home office. Once again, practical and functional, with a few papers strewn around a laptop and your other useful desk features. You had everything you needed in arm’s reach, no need to tuck it away in drawers if you were constantly using it and you kept it organized enough that it wasn’t a stressful mess. You gestured for Bucky to take a seat on the couch across from you as you sat in your desk chair and flashed him a smile. Ugh there was that smile again, and this time it got him good and he couldn’t help but dopily smile back, not even aware of what his body was doing.

“James” oh how he hated when you called him that. Sure, it was his formal business name, but the way you said it made him grimace. Yeah, it sounded beautiful from your lips, but its use meant your weren’t close. And that’s all he wanted. Was for you to be close. Up against him, on top of him, engulfing him, drowning him. And he would happily accept that fate. Heck, he was drowning right now in these thoughts about you, but he clawed his way to the surface and shook his head to refocus as you said his name again, noticing his attention had drifted in favor to a blank stare at your lips. He knew with that slip-up, he had to regain control and take charge.

“Listen Honey, you’ve essentially been exterminating every guy I send in here and I don’t like it. All you are is sweet but somehow you’re turning down this deal like a bitter old man would” His sudden stern and almost condescending tone was a huge juxtaposition to the wonderland face you had noticed moments ago. You didn’t like that one bit. Being an independent woman who ran a successful business, you were used to men trying to stomp on you until they had their way. You didn’t stand for it with all of Bucky’s underlings and you weren’t going to stand for it now. You’d regain control and keep your calm demeanor, because you’re that much better than all these other mediocre men in business you dealt with all too often.

“First off, James. Let’s not get into extermination or pesticides. That’s far too complicated of an issue for right now, especially if you don’t understand the simple terms I so graciously asked you for. And if you wanna call something honey, you better be referring to my beehives on the south side of the property. Now, I just want to talk to you so you can see where I’m coming from” you said was a sickeningly sweet smile. He could see it didn’t reach your eyes, still filled with fire and not backing down. But dang if your tone still didn’t match the new nickname he’s given you. Sweet and thick. Bucky for the first time found himself listening to demands from another. He settled down into the couch cushions as you pulled out the contract you’d drafted yourself.

Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. By all means, let’s get down to business. I wanna see what’s been giving all my men such a hard time that you’ve had to come directly to me.”

Bucky leaned forward to grab the contract from your hands. He flipped through the pages, most of it was identical to what he’d drafted, besides you inflating the numbers. He could handle that, but the last line he saw made his neck muscles go limp as he dropped his head.

“James Barnes will work and stay at the farm for one month’s time, uninterrupted, to learn the gravity, value, and hard work associated with operations.”

He should’ve known, but what was one month? If he was going rn use the mines, he may as well see all the land and livestock that could be affected if things went awry. He’s been doing this job for years, anyway. Maybe he needed the break. He’s sure Steve could control everything else, right? He wouldn’t have waited so long for this deal had he not needed the mine shafts. Your smooth voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“So… what’ll it be, James?”

He looked up at you through his lashes with a smirk you couldn’t quite read as you returned your own smirk, knowing what this meeting meant. Knowing that he wouldn’t have come in person unless he really wanted to make a deal happen.

“Sure Honey, whatever you want”

Next>

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace-2

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic.Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious

Word count: 2,8k

Masterlist

Part 1~Part 3

"What? Am I hearing this right? The Carlos Sainz, famous Ferrari Formula One driver approached you, in an alleyway, during your smoke break and paid you three hundred euros to hide in a cramped bathroom with you.” One of your best friends from high school screams into your ear. You can’t help but cringe, hearing exactly just how famous he is. You blow the smoke from your cigarette and gaze out across your balcony.  

You wish you could say the view is beautiful, with the Eiffel Tower in the background with music of the people in the background. It’s none of that though. The view is another apartment block, and you so wished the man on the balcony would close the curtains. You avoid the balcony in the fear of getting treated to a view of his wrinkled body. How you wish you didn’t have to deal with the gross apartment building.  

“Um...Yes...?” You reply, not really sure what to say. “Not only that, Jasmine, but he then gave her his number and said he would make sure he would see her again!” Your other best friend, Ilsa, on the group call squeals out. You facepalm, knowing they can’t see you, but still, your embarrassment is uncontainable. “What are you going to say?” Jas asks, you can already hear her plotting.  

Your silence says a thousand words. “You are going to text him, right?” Ilsa clarifies and they go quiet only to hear your sigh. “What would I say? Hi, mister million-dollar man, I really liked being cramped in a bathroom with you, and would love to do it again!” You scoff at the ridiculousness of it all and take another puff from your cig. “I mean...” Jas says but you quickly shoot the idea down.  

“Okay, okay, how about this? Address the elephant in the room. Tell him you googled him and then ask him what exactly he wants with you.” Ilsa suggests and it actually doesn’t sound that bad. Your stomach rumbles and as you open the fridge door you can’t help but sigh. Some old cabbage, one egg and a pack of cheap tomato sauce. Another hungry night.  

“Yeah, so that you can be prepared if he just wants a quick fuck!” Jas calls out and again you can’t help but cringe. “Jasmine!” You yell out, glad they can’t see you blush. Even that wouldn’t be so bad. It’s been weeks since someone touched you with any sort of kind intent. Much less how close you two were today. 

 You’d already given the full three hundred euros to your landlord. He just scowled asking where the rest of it is. Not to mention, the electricity is threatening to shut off. Along with the student loans, water bills, phone bills, and insurance, everything is piling up and you feel like you can’t pick up enough shifts to survive.  

I hear her groan, “Come on, Y/N, this could be a really great opportunity for you.” This time it’s Ilsa encouraging you. She’s right, maybe a little distraction from life is just what you need. Not to mention you’d do anything to look at that handsome face of his one more time. The photos and videos online don’t even come close. He’s so much more even just being near him makes you want to beg him to hold you.  

“Fine, but if he gave me a fake number, I’ll ignore you guys for a week.” It’s an empty threat as always. “Yes, of course, as expected.” Jas’ voice is dripping in sarcasm. “I’ve got to go, je vous aime les gars, au revoir.” Ilsa says goodbye, and with that, the call ends. Dinner, wouldn’t that be such a good idea? You open your banking up only to see but a meek two hundred left for the end of the month.  

While you’re on your phone, you might as well text him...right? 

Y/N: I assume you wanted me to google you when you gave me your real name?  

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: And, do I live up to the pictures?  

Y/N: No, you’re much shorter in real life 

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: A dagger in my heart! 

Y/N: 😝  

Y/N: I’m glad you didn’t give me a fake number then. But I can’t help but ask what exactly it is you want with me?  

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: How about this: I’ll explain it all to you on our first date 

Y/N: You intrigue me... 

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: When do you get off from work, tomorrow?  

Y/N: I work the morning, until lunch tomorrow. So I’m free from 16:00 

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: Send me your address, and I’ll pick you up at 18:00. Wear something nice.  

What on earth am I thinking? He could kidnap me! And yet you find yourself in front of your closet picking the one nice dress you bought for your first interview. It’s a simple black, form-fitting on the top but flares at the bottom with frills on the sleeves. It looks so boring to wear on a date with someone like him, but it’s all you have. 

 Along with the only heels you have, once more plain black chunky pumps. Your hair lays right below your shoulders in your natural waves and curls.

You can’t help but groan at your situation and throw a pack of cigarettes into your handbag. It’s a bad habit, you know and everyone around you has told you so many times to stop. But it’s so hard to when living in France and not only that it’s the only thing that seems to help.  

You finish it off with a red lip, hoping to add a slight bit of colour to the dull outfit. Not that you have much time to think of something else, at exactly six, there is a knock on the door. With your heart in your ears, you open the door to Carlos holding a bouquet of pink tulips. 

Not only that but he looks ravishing in black dress pants and a dress shirt, but of course with the sleeves rolled up. You bite your lip, already wanting to jump his bones.  

That tan skin of his has you imagining him, shirtless under the hot summer sun on a Mediterranean beach somewhere. Not only that but his hair seems to fall perfectly in place. So soft and silky and voluminous. Your hand twitches, wanting to rake through his inky black strands and then, of course, ask him about his hair-care routine.  

“How did you know these are my favourites?” You ask, walking inside and placing them in the sink before returning to him. He shrugs, “I have my ways. But enough about that. Querida, you look enchanting.” He takes your hand and guides you to a spin, showing off all of you. Your dress flows and his touch is like fire lighting in your body.  

“Really? I hope it’s fancy enough, it’s all I own, and I don’t really have the money to buy something right now.” You say with a blush coating your cheeks. Why would you tell him that? Now he’s going to think you want him to buy you a new dress. Or maybe you’re only going on the date because you know who he is.  

“Of course, niña bonita, I’m honoured to have such a pretty lady on my arm.” He then takes your hand and helps you down the stairs. And his words cause a blush on the tips of your ears. He helps you all the way to his fire-red Ferrari. “Woah....” You can’t help but utter out, you’ve never been so close to such an expensive car and the fear of breaking it looms in the back of your mind. 

“You like, niña bonita? Comes with the job, of course.” He winks and then opens the door for you, which of course opens upwards. You can’t help but let out a playful scoff, “Duh, of course!” He chuckles at your reaction. “You must tell me if I’m going too fast, no? I like speed of course.” His wink shoots electricity through your skin, not only that but that breath taking smile of his. 

 You don’t have a licence, you never needed one living in France all your life. Even in the smaller town where you grew up, you could walk everywhere. And yet the way he speeds down the freeway causes a thrill to tickle your toes.

Every time he switches the gears, his forearm muscles flex and you have to control yourself. Not to mention, he doesn’t even have road rage, every move, every turn, every gear shift is as smooth as can be.  

If it wasn’t for your culinary degree you’re certain you wouldn’t have understood anything on the menu. Even so, you’d been eyeing this place for a while and some of them you’re still unsure how to pronounce. What shocks you the most is the prices, some things on the menu are half the price of your rent. “What do you think of getting?” He asks, leaning back in his seat. “Um...the breadsticks?” He looks over his menu and raises his brow.  

“The breadsticks are free?” He clarifies, those luscious brows of his furrow in confusion and you nod with a smile. You try not to show him how nervous a fancy place like this makes you. And also how you yearn to be at home in a place like this. “Yes.” He sighs, “Niña terca, I am paying, pick what you want.” That actually makes you feel even worse.  

“Oh, no, it’s alright you don’t have to. I brought my wallet.” You reply, clutching your purse as a reminder. “It is not up for discussion.” He replies, going back to the wine list he’s holding. The guilt shoots through you. You desperately need to accept the money but stil your mother’s manners creep up on you. “Then the...salad.” He rolls his eyes and takes your menu and closes it for you. 

 You go to protest, but he calls over the waiter before you can. “The lady will have the Salmon Meuniere and I shall have the steak. With the Chilled Pinot Noir.” Again, he chooses your favourite option. “How did you....” As if he knows exactly what you’re about to ask, he just shrugs, “We must have similar taste.” 

The fact of these two choices being so similar doesn’t make you suspicion. Instead, it makes you feel warm and at home almost. How similar are you two already, and how much more can fall into place? You eye him, raising your brow as he too studies you. “What is it, estimada. You want to say something.” He guides with his hand to open up the conversation.  

“How do you know?” You ask, in awe of how much detail he sees. He chuckles and then leans forward and smooths out the area around your eyes by your temples. “You get this crinkle, when you are holding something back. I noticed it yesterday.” You can’t help but blush and cover your face.

“It’s my job, estimada. To notice the small things, in the car, in the track, in the ladies I like.” His words are smooth like butter and those dark eyes of his stare you down.  

The waiter comes and pours your wine and places down your food. You take a sip from the cool beverage. “You owe me an explanation.” You shrug, the only response you give. Not trusting your throat. His jaw locks tight and he leans in a bit closer to you. He bites down on the juicy steak and the way his jaw muscle flexes causes obscene thoughts to fly through you.  

“What I tell you next is not to be known by anyone besides you and me. Let’s put it like so, my managers believe that I should, how you say, casarse ya.” He switches to Spanish so easily. You have no idea what he said but merely nod along. All while savouring the taste of the perfectly cooked salmon and expensive wine that pairs so well.  

“I turn 34 next year, one of the oldest on the grid. They believe that I should stop wasting my time and just settle down already. My publicist also believes it would get more sponsors and boost my public image. So, I am coming to you with an offer.” I raise my brow; I knew this would be too good to be true.  

I should have known that someone like him wouldn’t bother getting close to someone like me. Clearly only there to entertain the people as always. Does he want pity points from his fans? Embracing a poor Frenchwoman from the slums. Doing some sort of charity work? I cross my arms and lean back; I can tell that he sees me retracting from the conversation entirely.  

But still, I allow him to continue. “I will pay you, any amount you wish, shopping, jewels, vacations, even something more practical like the rent or student bills. In return, you pretend to be my long-term girlfriend. You come with me to the races, show up in the paddock, and tag along in interviews. The whole deal.” He bites those plump lips of his and now you wish he’d be more hideous.  

For once he actually looks a bit nervous. You can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at this. “So...like a sugar daddy situation...?” He senses your resentment towards the idea and is careful to reply. “I suppose so,” his eyes seem to panic and you can’t believe your ears.

You grab your purse, “I can’t believe you, Carlos! I thought I’d finally met a decent well-off guy, but no. Ces foutus garçons. Je ne peux jamais faire confiance aux hommes. Jamais!”  

You can’t help but switch to your native language. The translator in your mind fails due to your anger and you can feel tears prick in the walls of your eyes. With your purse in hand, you push your seat back and in a rage go to leave. But suddenly you’re forced back down onto your chair by Carlos’ firm grasp on your wrist.  

“¡Siéntate, niña testaruda, y escucha!” His translator too, is out the window. You pout and cross your arms, shocked at his audacity. “Listen here, and listen well, little girl, because I can clearly see you are in desperate need of some discipline. Mocoso.” He leans over you and the way he speaks with such a demanding voice makes your core ache. And yet you can’t help but want to defy him more.  

He sits down again but is clearly ready to catch again if needed. He then grabs you by the chin and makes sure you look him into those swirling brown eyes. So dangerous and ready to attack if need be. “I can see it in your eyes, dollface. I can see it in the way you eye the Porche that passes, the Louis Vuitton handbag in the window and the most expensive item on the menu.” 

Has your eye really been wandering so much? Or is his attention to detail so fine-tuned? If it weren’t for his hand clasping your chin, you’d long since would’ve looked away. “You have champagne taste and I’m giving you the whole vineyard. Don’t make another stupid choice and accept the offer. I won’t ask again.”  

His voice is strong and commanding and the way he speaks makes you want to get down on your knees and open your mouth for him. He lets go of your jaw, allowing you to speak. “And if I want something more?” You ask and can’t help but dial up the charm fluttering your dark lashes. He smirks watching you go from bratty to begging.  

“I can feel the chemistry too, estimada and I can see the need burning behind those eyes of yours. If this were to become something more, then so be it. And if you want this to be a quick fling and your intro into the limelight, then so be it. And if you want it to only be an exchange of money and appearance, so be it too.” He shrugs, watching your reaction to each option.  

Then he turns serious again. “That all can be decided later. What must be decided now, is whether you’ll join me or not. I must apologize that I can’t give you much time to think about it, I have an early flight tomorrow. You’ll have to join me.” I furrow my brows, I thought he had the whole week? Anyways a choice must be made....  

My taglist is open! If you wish to be tagged in this story alone, please comment or reblog with the words 'tag'. And if you wish to be tagged in all my posts please comment or reblog with the words 'tag all'.

[navybrat817]

Muse

Pairing: Artist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky is thankful to have you as his muse. Word Count: Over 1.1k Warnings: Fluff, kissing, light insecurities if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's in love (and he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Nix was kind enough to send me an old edit she made and I ran with it for @the-slumberparty 's Across the Universe challenge. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky Barnes hadn't expected to find solace in art when he was younger. It seemed more like a path that his best friend Steve would take, though both of them appreciated expressing themselves creatively. Life also taught him that his road came with unexpected bumps and turns. Trading guns for brushes and pencils after he left the army, art helped him process some of his emotions he long kept at bay. It showed him how to look at life from a different perspective. In some ways, it saved him.

Like you did.

"Mmm."

The moan you let out drew Bucky's gaze up from his sketchpad, smiling softly as you stretched your legs out under the sheets. As tempted as he was to rouse you with his tongue, he decided to let you sleep since he already woke you once in the middle of the night. It wouldn't be the first time he sketched you while you slept.

The pad in his hand was already filled with drawings of you, but one more wouldn't hurt. Over the hours and days spent with you, he studied and learned your body well. He had other sketches and paintings of you in various angles and lightning. Those would never be sold.

Some art that existed was for the artist alone.

The pencil began to move across the paper once more when you didn't stir. If you woke up and caught him drawing you again, you'd shake your head and tell him he had more than enough. He disagreed.

There was beauty in his surroundings, but they paled in comparison to you.

"Bucky," you whispered, sending a shiver of excitement down his spine. Like the color red, you speaking his name invoked deep, intense passion within him. He saw hues in brighter shades thanks to you. "Come back to bed."

"I'm almost finished," he promised.

"You drawing me again?" you mumbled, bringing your hand up to cover your yawn as he kept sketching. "You have enough and I'm a mess."

"Maybe. Maybe not," he teased with a tender smile when your eyes opened halfway. "And you're not a mess. You're beautiful."

And it’ll never be enough.

"Careful, James," you teased back, arching your back as you stretched. "Keep smiling and sweet talking and they'll take away your brooder card."

"We can't have that," he winked.

When Bucky decided to pursue art outside of a hobby, he hadn't meant to become a brooding recluse on purpose. He simply preferred solitude while he worked and he valued his privacy. While he was encouraged to promote his work on social media to help build more clientele, he never showed his face. He let his art speak for itself. It worked.

It was how he came to meet you.

Before he met you in person, you were his favorite customer. You bought multiple pieces and left the kindest comments on his page. He often went back to reread them when he got lost in his own head.

"While there are many beautiful pieces of art in the world, Bucky Barnes gives us work that defines, and defies, beauty. His art can move you to tears or give you hope of brighter days ahead. We're privileged that he chooses to share his vision with us and one can only hope to see the world as he sees it."

He may have moved you with his visuals, but you moved him with your words.

"I have to meet her," he told Steve when you commissioned a custom piece.

Steve couldn't believe it since Bucky hardly ever let anyone into his studio. He said it was the least he could do for someone who consistently showed him support. He wouldn't admit at the time how nervous he was to meet you. Or why he felt so compelled to see the person behind the name since he refused to look for you on social media.

He realized that day it was destiny to meet you.

The artist and the muse.

"Back to bed," you ordered, moving the sheets back as he set his pencil and pad down. He used the opportunity to gaze along your naked frame bathed in the soft light, lingering between your thighs. "Please, Bucky?

"Who am I to deny my muse?" he smirked, slowly standing from his stool to stretch. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and he had thrown his dark hair up in a bun to keep it out of his eyes. "Especially when you look at me like that."

I'm littered with scars and you gaze at me like I have no imperfections.

"Have you seen you? You're gorgeous," you said, patting the mattress for him to sit.

“Not as gorgeous as you.”

“Take the compliment, brooder,” you said with a sleepy grin.

When he took a seat with a chuckle, you stopped him before he could lay over you. Instead, you took his right hand and had him stay in place as began to gently massage it. You commented more than once about how long and thick his fingers were and how warm to the touch they were against your skin. Working at his hand in tiny circles, you carefully rubbed out any tension you sensed. While you focused on the task at hand, he took another minute to gaze at you in wonder.

My beautiful muse.

"There," you said, kissing his palm once you finished.

"Thank you," he said, resting the same hand over your heart.

He watched and felt your chest rise as you inhaled. The steady beat grounded him. He was lucky enough for you to let him paint you with his love.

Inside and out.

"Do you ever regret it?" he asked as he traced a small heart on your chest.

Your forehead scrunched as you looked at him. "Regret what?"

"Choosing me," he whispered.

You had a chance to live a life of luxury and you walked away from it for me. Do you regret following your heart when you could've had so much more with him?

You exhaled as you pushed yourself up to face him and placed your hands on both cheeks, making sure he was looking into your eyes. "I will never regret choosing you or being yours," you whispered back.

Bucky's eyes softened as he smoothed his left hand down your back and dropped a kiss to your mouth. He lost himself in the feel of your lips and tongue, an exchange of desire he only got to experience with you. He didn't live a life of glamor, but he would forever give you a life of love.

"Now use me as your canvas," you said as the kiss ended.

Like Bucky said, who was he to deny his muse?

I love Bucky in love. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[babyblue711]

Redemption

Will (Salad Days) x Reader - Part 1/Part 2 Summary: You and Will reconnect after spending some time apart and learn that each of you has gone through their own difficult circumstances in those years. Your friendship develops into something more as you help each other heal from the past.  Words: 5.3K

Warnings: NSFW, language, sexual content (18+), mild BDSM (part 2), miscarriage, prison, divorce, infidelity, alcohol, mention of death A/N: This is my first attempt at fan-fiction ever, so please be kind. Thank you to my incredible beta readers for their expertise @megatardisbaby and @arcielee; your enthusiasm kept pushing me to continue writing this. And thank you to @myfandomprompts for encouraging me to start writing in the first place and for your amazing gifs.  Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you walk through the parking lot and a warm summer breeze blows through your hair. The air shimmers with a sense of unreality, a blur of colors and images that swirl around you. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a familiar sight. You turn and realize you are looking at the back of your old black Jeep Wrangler. You know it’s yours because of the custom California license plate MRS M 97.  You want to scoff just looking at the plate, a wave of unease floods you, and confusion tugs at the back of your mind. How did it get here? You had left it behind as you had left everything else behind when you broke free from your cheating ex-husband. Your gaze lingers on the car for a moment. 

“Well, ‘elo, love,” a soft voice teases in your ear. You whirl to see an old friend standing before you. Your brain feels like quicksand as you try to make sense of his mirage-like presence; you aren’t even sure he is real. You hadn’t seen him in years, but when you look at him, it feels like yesterday. You puzzle at him, bemused by his attire. He’s wearing a grey hoodie under a black bomber jacket, joggers, and his typical black Adidas trainers. Very warm clothes for such a hot summer’s day. He’s tall, lean, and angular just as you remembered.  

His lips curve into a cocky smirk, while simultaneously exuding a sort of shy, quiet confidence. The merriment in his eyes slowly fading only to be replaced by something else. He suddenly grows serious, a haunted look in his deep blue eyes. 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to go,” he says unexpectedly. 

Your eyebrows knit together, not understanding what he means. Go? You think to yourself. Colors swirl, the glare from the sun seems to become blindingly bright but he’s the only thing that remains a sharp, clear image. You start to open your mouth to ask how he got there, when he suddenly steps towards you, crowding into your space. Your sense of reality is almost detached, like you are watching yourself from the sidelines. He looks down at you intensely as if making a decision. 

His eyes snap to yours. He presses his lips together as he raises his hands and lightly gives your shoulders a slight shove. Off balance, you fall backwards onto your Jeep. Your back hits the hard surface of the spare tire, bruising your spine but you don’t feel any pain. You huff out a breath and his lips are suddenly on yours, you tangle your hands into this hair as if it's the most natural thing to do, his body presses you firmly against the back of your car. You aren’t sure how things have escalated so quickly but realize you don’t care. You wanted more. 

 “Oh.…Will,” you sigh into his mouth.

The sound of your alarm suddenly jolts you awake. 

You shut it off with a groan and close your eyes again, hoping for more sleep. As your subconscious starts to drift off, you see Will’s face drift through your mind and your eyes snap open again, your heart jumps. Did you really just dream about making out with a childhood friend, let alone someone you hadn’t seen in years?  What the hell? 

You curse your brain for bringing up the past, mentally shaking your head as the memories flood you. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being back home that had conjured him up in your dreams. The last you had heard of Will was him being sent to prison. You didn’t know what became of him and you doubted you’d ever see him again.

You continue to lay in bed as your heartbeat returns to normal. The image of your old car, a gift from your ex-husband for your birthday one year, floats in your mind and gives you another jolt. You cringe inwardly at the bad memories it brought back of the life you used to have...before everything fell apart.

With a sigh, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and gaze out the window. The view from your childhood bedroom felt so familiar, yet so suffocating. It had been years since you left this place, seeking adventure and a sense of independence. After uni, you spent some time traveling and living abroad. While you were in America, you met, fell in love, and married the perfect man. You loved how easy your relationship was - memories of laying in bed together, giggling over silly TikTok videos or sharing stories of your childhood; he was your best friend, your confidante. He was warm, caring, and compassionate...until he wasn't.

For a few years, you were happy; you both had great jobs, you bought a home and settled in California where his tech company was located. Then, as is the natural progression of any married couple, you tried for a family and quickly learned the hard way that it wasn’t as easy as it looked. Each miscarriage that you suffered began to take its toll on you mentally, emotionally and physically. You became a shell of the person you once were, haunted by the immeasurable grief of your losses. 

Your perfect marriage took a nosedive. He tried to be supportive but you just felt as if he blamed you. The final nail in the coffin was when you caught him cheating with his secretary. You knew at that moment that your marriage was broken beyond repair.

Unbearably heartbroken, you left him and everything behind in California. You fled back home to the UK and wished with every fiber of your being that you could just leave your old life behind in America. That the ocean between the two countries would swallow up your pain so that you couldn’t bring it with you.

Your parents were loving and supportive and had welcomed you back home with open arms, but you sunk into a deep depression. Your anxiety was so bad that anything that reminded you of your ex would make your heart race in fear; you couldn’t look at anything related to babies or children without wanting to vomit. Every breath you took felt like it cost you everything just to inflate your lungs, the weight of your grief felt like it was crushing you. You longed to escape the suffocating grip of your emotions but felt trapped, caught between the life you had lost and the uncertainty of the future.

Eventually though, you slowly began to heal. Every day, you put energy into rebuilding the life you had before you met him. You still couldn't recognize who you had become whenever you looked into the mirror, hating the feeling that you were back at square one, that you had made no actual progress with your life. You would forever be scarred by the events of the past, but you finally started putting one foot in front of the other again.

You got a job you mostly enjoy and your day now begins with a sigh as you start to get ready for work. You were traveling into Nottingham to run a small errand for the company you worked for and was glad for a change of scenery beyond the four walls of your dreary office cubicle. You change into a royal blue sundress, attempt to fix your hair and apply a little bit of makeup. You take a deep breath as you look at your reflection in the mirror and promise yourself that today was going to be a better day. After saying a hasty goodbye to your parents, you leave to catch the train into the city.

Finishing up work early, you step out from the office building. For once, the rays of warm sunshine seem to lift your mood. Feeling lighter, you decide you are not ready to return to the monotony of home life just yet. Retracing your steps, as you had done many times in your youth, you venture up the cobbled path of Stoney Street, the bustle and charm of the city making you feel a little more alive. Nostalgia swirls through you in waves as you realize so much had remained the same since you’d been gone, yet it felt like everything had changed. 

To your left and right was a colorful array of independent shops that lined the street, their inviting storefronts displaying an assortment of wares. The sunshine seems to brighten everyone’s mood as laughter and animated conversations spill out from cozy pubs and lively cafes, creating an ambiance of warmth and camaraderie. As you walk down the street, you admire the cute coffee shops, stylish boutiques, and quaint bookshops passed along the way. 

Although you considered yourself “well-traveled” by now, you can’t help but smile at how charming Nottingham truly was. Centuries-old architecture, with its intricate detailing and timeless beauty, stood side by side with modern storefronts, old and new melting together harmoniously.

You didn’t intend to stop anywhere, but your eye catches sight of an old favourite haunt of yours during your school days. You reach for the door handle of The Lace Market Fish Bar, deciding you were hungry for a snack. The door swings open and you almost run headlong into a familiar face. A bolt of electricity courses through you as you realize your dream has spilled into reality. 

“Oh, sorry,” Will mutters absentmindedly as you instinctively retreat a few paces. His gaze sweeps over you and it’s evident he doesn’t immediately recognize you. You hold your breath, unsure if you should say anything. 

Suddenly, recognition flickers in his eyes. “Wow, hey, Y/N,” he blinks rapidly, completely caught off guard. “Never expected to see you ‘round here again. Thought you moved away a long time ago.” 

“Will!” you exclaim, just as startled and caught off guard as he is. “I…. I did move away, I’m back now,” you try to contain a grimace. Uncomfortable silence hangs in the air for a beat as you both try to process seeing each other again after such a long time apart. 

A sense of surrealism washes over you, just like in your dream. You can’t help yourself from checking him out. Tall and lean, just as he was in high school, perhaps a little more filled out now. His light brown hair is tousled and shaggy, framing his face. While you always considered him good-looking, age only enhanced his beauty as a grown man now. His face has become a touch more angular, his cheeks slightly hollowed, his jaw defined; his nose, as ever, is sharp and straight. And his lips still curve seductively into the most perfect cupid’s bow that you had to remind yourself not to stare. He swapped his usual black joggers for dark jeans today, with a black t-shirt exposing his toned arms. He looks good, better than you remembered.

“Back?” he asks curiously, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “As in…for good?”

“For the time being,” you say, not wanting to get into the nitty gritty details. “It’s good to see you though,” and you mean it. “How’s your Nan?”

“She’s good, gettin’ on a bit now but she’s doing fine,” his tone is light but his smile is a little stiff. “I gotta bring her this now, actually,” he gestures at the takeaway in his hand. “It’s good seeing you...” he trails off, a little awkward. 

“You too, Will,” you reply, unsure where to go from here. He gives you a small smile, then turns and heads up the street. 

You venture into the shop and take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself in the present moment. You had not been expecting to run into anybody you used to know and you felt like your heartbeat was racing more than it should. Or perhaps it was the strange coincidence that you had just dreamed of him last night? You approach the counter and order your food, your thoughts drifting to memories of Will and his friends… 

You and Will were a part of the same group of friends in your youth. You took turns hanging out at the chip shop, smoking and chatting at the park, or going to the cinema. You smirk a little to yourself, remembering the crush you had on him throughout most of high school. But, at that age, you were the painfully shy type, both introverted and quiet. You wouldn’t really gain confidence and find your own voice until you went away to university. 

But as you were crushing on him, he was crushing on your best friend, Leah. She, on the other hand, was like a shining star, the object of desire for most boys in school; popular, bubbly and sweet, it was easy to see why Will preferred her to you, her quiet wallflower of a friend. You settled for just being his friend, figuring it was better than nothing. The two of you would text almost every day, and hang out together after school sometimes, but it never crossed over into anything other than “friendly”.

In high school, a tragedy struck Will’s life. The loss of his parents in a fatal car accident cast a dark shadow over his soul, forever altering the person he once was. He had a coolness to him now, like he was trying to become untouchable; still cocky and confident, but never loud or boisterous. There were times you would catch him silently brooding when he thought no one was looking, and it was then that you saw the pain behind his eyes. You never wanted to approach him about it, afraid bringing up the topic would only make it worse. Thus, you kept your concerns at bay, choosing silence over potential harm, all the while wishing for a way to ease his burden without risking further damage. When most of your mutual friends were getting ready to leave for school after graduation, essentially leaving him behind, that’s when the trouble worsened. 

Lost in your memories, you think back to the last time you saw him….

Flashback

It was the day before you left for uni. Your friend group had one last “going away” party but Will, Tom, and Matt were mysteriously absent. No one could reach them.

He had never not answered your text messages. Concerned, you decided to stop by Will’s house where he lived with his Nan the next morning before you left; one look of his face was enough to know something terrible had happened.

“Let’s take a walk,” you remember him saying. You walked together for a long time in silence, ending up alone with him in a grassy field, away from the town.

“Look, Y/N, I did something terrible,” his lower lip trembled as he stared out into space, his eyes so lost. You had never seen Will cry, not even when his parents died. Alarm bells rung in your head, your heart pounded in your chest at seeing this side of him. 

You grabbed his arm, turning him to face you. He wouldn’t meet your gaze, only staring down at his shoes. 

“Will, please tell me what has happened. Maybe I can help you!” you begged. 

“I don’t want to implicate you,” and your blood chilled with fear. Implicate? Could he be in trouble with the law? You didn’t know what else to do. You hugged him, wrapped your arms around his middle as he sobbed quietly in your ear, his tears terrifying you even further. You felt like crying yourself.

After a moment, he regained his composure, still holding onto you and whispered in your ear “I gotta get back to Nan, but, Y/N, if you hear anything…that something’s happened…just know I never meant for it to go that far.”

He refused to say more. You looked up into his face and saw his haunted, sad eyes pleading into yours. You nod, unsure of what else you could do to help him at this point. 

While at uni a few weeks later, you were chatting with your mum one evening when she broke the news to you. Will, Tom, and Matt had been caught stealing from the post office with a stolen firearm. You were shocked. Although they were always a mischievous and slightly troublesome trio, nobody had known that the boys had started breaking into homes and stealing for extra cash. Your heart broke upon hearing the news. The Will you knew was a good person, he had just traveled down a dark path and lost his way. Your mum explained that Will was most likely headed to prison for theft and possession of a firearm... 

Your order is ready, snapping you back to reality for a moment. You take your food and approach an empty booth, your mind still on Will. You wondered what had happened to him in the time that you had been apart. He obviously was out of prison now and he looked well cared for. You were glad to hear his Nan was doing ok, since she was all the family he had left now. You hadn’t heard about Matt, Tom, or Leah, as you had lost contact when you went away to school. Memories of the past consume you as you sit in the booth and attempt to enjoy your fish and chips, not nearly as excited about it as you had been before your chance encounter. 

Late that night, you were mindlessly scrolling on your phone, waiting for sleep to take you. You see a Facebook notification indicating a new message. You click it and see Will’s face. 

[Will]: Hey 

You stare at it for a minute until curiosity gets the better of you and you reply back. 

[Y/N]: Hey? 

You can’t help but be a bit surprised. The Will you used to know never had Facebook and hated all forms of social media. You tap on his profile to stalk him, but, aside from his photo, nothing else jumps out at you. His profile is quite blank. 

[Will]: I’m sorry about earlier when we bumped into each other. I was so short with you. 

Intrigued, you hadn’t expected an apology. You can see he is still typing so you wait. 

[Will]: You know... if you ever wanted to meet up sometime for a drink, I’ll always be about. Catch up for old time’s sake? 

You stare at his message. You reason that it would be good for you to get out of the house for once and you were curious to discover what had become of him. You type a reply, and you both agree to meet up after work on Friday. 

[Will]: Brilliant. See you then.

[Will]: Oh and just so you know, I created this profile just to find you. I still fuckin’ hate social media. What’s your number? I want to delete this already.

You press your lips together to try to contain a smile, that’s the Will you used to know. Impressed by the effort he went through to find you, you give him your phone number and he returns his. You go to sleep that night, your thoughts on him, again wondering how in the hell you had just dreamt of him and then he materializes like some sort of fucking premonition. For the first time in a while, you fall asleep easily, hoping to see him again in your dreams.

A few days later, you sit across from Will at the pub, enjoying a pint and each other’s company. Everything about him seems familiar yet different at the same time. He’s back in dark jeans again but has swapped his black t-shirt for a white one. Because of the heat, you have opted for a light summer dress, your favorite color, blue, with sandals. As usual, he’s a little quiet at first, but eventually warms up, telling you about his life since you had left. For the first time in a long time, you forget about your own painful past as you focus on him.

He looks down as if ashamed to meet your gaze, his knee bouncing up and down, slightly agitated as he recalls the bad memories. “I did a few years in the pen after Tom, Matt and I were busted for stealin’ from the post,” he said. “But after that, I knew I needed to turn my life around and be better, ‘specially for Nan,” he pauses and takes a deep breath through his nose. “After everything that had happened, I just wanted to make her proud,” he adds quietly.  

You nod sympathetically, “I'm sorry you had to go through that. It must have been tough but I’m glad to hear things are better now, Will. And what about your mates? What happened to them?" 

He frowns, “Haven’t seen any of ‘em since we were busted. Last I heard, Leah had Matt’s baby but they aren’t together anymore. Tom went off to school. I know nothin’ else. It’s no loss, really.” 

He shrugs like he doesn’t care but you know better than to believe his nonchalant attitude. His first defense mechanism was always to pretend to be tough and unbothered. You can see through his facade more easily now than when you were younger, the lingering hurt evident by the way he delivered the words. You remembered how tight-knit their group used to be, facing the world together with a sense of invincibility. It was a shame that his friendships didn’t withstand the trials and test of time.  

“Wha’ about you, though? Thought you married some fancy lad and moved across the pond, eh?” Will asks, raising his eyebrows, taking a sip of his beer and you suddenly feel like you’re sitting under a bright light. The memories you’ve tried so hard to bury resurface, anxiety blooming in your chest, attempting to claw its way up your throat. 

It must have shown in your face, for Will leans forward and places his hand on yours, looking concerned. “Hey, it’s ok, I’m sorry I asked. Just curious was all. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, “ he says softly, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand.

You feel your breath hitch a little at the unexpected touch, but something about it calms you slightly, keeping you grounded. You decide to keep your sob story short, just as he did. 

“He cheated on me with his secretary so I divorced him. I told him I didn’t want anything from him. He kept everything, including our savings account. I….I  just wanted to be done with him. So I came back home to stay with mum and dad for a bit while I get back on my feet,” you ramble quickly as if saying it fast wouldn’t hurt as bad, but you knew you kept the worst part of your pain to yourself. You couldn’t find the strength to tell him about your miscarriages; the pain that you carried with you everywhere, thrumming underneath, was still too deep and too raw to talk about so casually over beers. Even though you hated your ex-husband, your babies would still always be yours.

You take a deep breath through your mouth and raise your eyes to meet Will’s gaze. He’s studying you as if he knows there’s something you’ve left out. His blue eyes seem to burn into yours, like he can sense the storm beneath your surface. Or maybe that was just your paranoia? You blink and look away, fearing that if you maintained eye contact, you’d start crying. 

You sit like that for a minute, focusing on your breathing as you try to control your anguish. You hate the way the memories still traumatize you after all this time. You squeeze his fingers, thankful for his calming reassurance. He squeezes yours back and you can feel the tightness in your chest dissipate slowly. 

“He didn’t deserve you anyway,” Will says quietly. Then, “Besides, you were obviously in America too long. You’ve barely got an accent anymore. Doubt you even remember how to make a decent cuppa.” He teases you, trying to lighten the mood. “I bet they don’t even have proper tea over there.”  

You can’t help but manage a small smile. “No, they really don’t”. 

“How did you survive?” he asks in mock horror.

You roll your eyes, enjoying his teasing, “I managed,” you chuckle and swat at his arm; he grins back at you, pleased to see you smile.

“You’ve changed too, you know,” you say after a beat. “You’re not the boy I used to know.”

“Yeah? How’s that?” a mischievous grin spreads across his face as he leans back in his chair, assuming a relaxed posture. He intertwines his fingers behind his head, as if inviting you to take a closer look. His confident demeanor seems almost intentional, like he’s on display for you. 

So you observe him, a small smile tugging at your lips. You shake your head, suddenly feeling shy just by looking at him. “I just think you’ve grown up, Will. You seem confident, happier now. Like...you’ve finally found yourself and know who you are.” 

He shrugs nonchalantly, maintaining his smirk, but there's a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "And you," he counters, his voice laced with his playful banter, "you've finally outgrown Leah's shadow. You were so shy and quiet when we were younger,” he pauses as he studies you a bit, his eyes flicking over you. “I see that you’re not that same girl anymore. Life has dealt you a shitty hand, but it’s nothin’ you can’t overcome.”

You look down, trying not to blush or look too pleased. It had been ages since you felt “seen” by someone. Silence envelopes the conversation, but it’s not uncomfortable. 

You debate with yourself for a minute as a memory from the past nags at you and decide you have nothing to lose by asking. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Will? The last time I saw you…” you trail off, looking up at him. You know that he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

His face falls a little as he grows serious again. “What could you have done for me? I would have had to admit to your face what I had done, how stupid I was. I was a coward and afraid. I couldn’t stand to see your disappointment,” he grimaces. “And I didn’t want to bring any trouble upon you either, with you headed to school and all.”

You nod, already expecting an explanation of this sort. 

“We’ve really been through some shit, haven’t we?” you remark with a small smile trying to make light of the past. You take a sip of your beer, realizing that by sharing each other’s pain and hardships, you feel less alone. 

“No kidding,” he huffs, then “C’mere,” he stands and pulls you to your feet. You are hesitant to stand, unsure of what he was doing. Will steps closer, lifting your arms slightly to indicate that you should wrap them around his neck, bending forward and embracing you into a tight hug, his own arms around your waist. 

You aren’t even sure when the last time somebody who wasn’t your mum hugged you like this. You want to scream and cry and crumble into his arms, the pain and memories of the past threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you take a few deep breaths while Will whispers encouraging words into your ear. You aren’t even sure how long the hug lasts, but when you break free, you inexplicably feel a little lighter, as if the weight of your grief was crushing you a little less. 

Will was the last person you thought you’d reconnect with when you moved back home. Both of you were essentially rebuilding your lives from scratch. Will, having gone through the turmoil of being in prison, understood the weight of redemption and second chances. And you, having endured the pain and upheaval of divorce and multiple miscarriages, were struggling to pick up the broken pieces while navigating the grief that accompanies such profound loss.

You continue to see each other semi-regularly over the next few weeks. Over time, you start waking up feeling hopeful again. Anytime you see he has texted you, your heart skips a beat. You love hearing the sound of his voice: soft and low, it always brings you a sense of comfort. You fought to admit it for a long time, but you realize deep down that he has given you something to look forward to, and you haven’t felt that in such a long time. 

You didn’t necessarily know how to define your relationship as you were very much only looking for friendship. But there was something different about Will. You realize he had already secured a small piece of you, although you didn’t remember giving your heart permission to grant him any space. Your shared past pain of broken circumstances bonded you together and you were more than happy to take things slow while your broken heart mended. 

A few weeks after seeing him at the pub, he invites you to go to the cinema with him. He bought the tickets, you bought the drinks and popcorn, enjoying being able to treat him too. 

After the movie, as you head out of the theatre, you discover a rainstorm is pouring torrentially. You both hover underneath the awning of the cinema, not wanting to be completely soaked from the storm. 

After a few minutes, the rain shows no signs of letting up; Will turns to you and smiles.

“A little bit of rain never hurt anyone, right?” he asks, grinning as he holds out his hand. “I say we make a run for it.” 

So you take his hand and, together, you sprint towards the car, becoming completely drenched along the way. You shriek with laughter as you feel like you're getting hit by a waterfall, not just simple rain. Upon finally reaching the car, you wrench the door open and throw yourself inside the dry interior. 

Once safely inside the car, you turn and look at each other, giggling at the other’s soaked appearance, exhilarated from your sprint and from the chill of the rain. Will’s t-shirt is completely wet, his hair plastered to his forehead. You are quite certain you probably look just as bad, if not a little worse as you wipe mascara from under your eyes. You shiver a little in the passenger seat and Will places a warm hand on your knee as he starts the car to drive off and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on your wet shirt, now clinging to your body. 

The rain has let up by the time he pulls up to your home. He stops in front of your house and, like a gentleman, walks you to the door. 

Turning towards him, you thank him again for the movie and lean up on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek, expressing your gratitude. 

You can hear him hold his breath at your closeness, you see the way his eyes watch you as you lower yourself back down. Wordlessly, he grabs both sides of your face in his warm hands, holding you there. You stare up at each other for a beat; you had felt this coming in your gut and you wait for him to make the next move.

He leans down and kisses you, softly, sweetly, his lips molding into yours. You breathe in, inhaling his breath into your lungs, suddenly feeling your head spin, your heart race. 

He breaks the kiss after a moment. “I hope that wasn't too bold,” he says quietly, hands still cupping your face.

“Not at all,” you breathe back, sincerely meaning the words. 

It was at that moment you knew he had the potential to be more than just your friend.

>>>Part 2

[ch4singchase]

The Ballad of Moths | LUKE CASTELLAN

Summary: Eurydice Gaumont receives gifts from her father and one of these proves invaluable as her journey intersects with fellow demigods.

Word count: 4.9K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and Injury, violence, grief, ophidiophobia (since the monster in this chapter is a giant snake), mentions of death, mild language

chapter one, chapter two | series masterlist

chapter 02: I Defend A Bunch Of Kids From A Giant Snake

The rhythmic tap of rain against my bus window played a lullaby, coaxing me into a swift slumber.

Abruptly, I was no longer confined to the bus; the rain had transformed into the hushed serenity of a forest. This was no typical ominous woods of a horror story; its allure lay in a distinct kind of beauty.

Drawing near a tree, my fingers traced the rough texture of its trunk, relishing the tactile sensation. The leaves gracefully danced, swaying in a tranquil wind, as if encouraging a shared nap. Smiling up at them, I entertained the whimsical idea that the tree and its surroundings comprehended my thoughts.

A soft flap of wings echoed behind me, and there it was—the moth that helped me understand where I should go earlier.

This was the same moth, its wings a rich black with subtle brown accents, patiently awaiting my presence in a circular dance.

"Hello, buddy," I greeted cautiously, extending my hand to see its reaction, "How's it going?"

Predictably, the moth remained silent. It alighted on my fingertip and then took flight, leading me along a specific path among the trees, unveiling a concealed trail through the forest. Glancing at the shadows that enveloped the moth's chosen route, a fleeting doubt crossed my mind—was it truly wise to follow?

Without dwelling on the question, I pursued the enigmatic guide, allowing instinct to override rational contemplation.

As I ventured deeper into the forest, the canopy above formed a protective shield against the sporadic drizzle that started. The moth continued its dance ahead, weaving through the foliage with an innate knowledge of the path, as if the trees themselves whispered directions to their winged companion.

Moss-covered rocks and the scent of damp earth under foot marked my journey. The woods seemed to respond to my presence, embracing me in a mysterious symphony of rustling leaves and distant calls of unseen creatures. Nature itself had become my guide, and the moth, my silent escort through this living tapestry.

The path curved, revealing a hidden glade bathed in ethereal moonlight. In the center stood a peculiar tree, its silver bark shimmering in the celestial glow. The moth settled on a branch, and as if on cue, the air became charged with an otherworldly energy.

I looked around, confused. The wind gently brazed my cheeks, guiding some leaves with it and revealing what was hiding in the glade until now.

Moths. A bunch of moths. All joining the one guiding me into a beautiful dance.

Perhaps, when I was younger, I would be frightened, but instead, I was just stunned by it. They were gracious and in an infinity of colors, painting the air like a vivid rainbow in the middle of the night. Even some fireflies had heard their excitement and joined the party, lightning the night in a blink of an eye.

“She’s here, she’s here, she’s finally going home!” They all seemed to whisper, even if I couldn’t understand what they meant by it.

Where was here? Were they following me? Were they the ones who sent the moth to help me?

There were too many questions and no answers.

“No, no,” they all repeated to what sounded like a response, “Our friend did.”

“Yeah yeah,” others agreed, circling around me as they did so, “Your father.”

For the first time since I had seen the moth from before, I ventured to speak up.

“My father?” It was just me repeating what they had just said but, still, it had taken me some type of courage to say so, “He’s dead, how is that possible?”

“Dead?” most of them laughed, as if I had told them a joke, “That’s not possible; he is a god.”

What?

“You heard us,” it seemed like I hadn’t only questioned it in my head, “You’re the daughter of a god.”

I stood frozen for a couple of seconds. A god…?

I recalled what the Cyclops had called me, a Half-Blood. Cyclopes, chimeras, half-blood, all of them were characters that my mother had once told me were tales. Stories in Ancient Greece, myths. Nothing more but stories.

But stories don’t simply come to life. They have to have always been there.

If they were talking about gods, they could only be the Greek ones, right? The Olympian ones and so on.

“How...” I tried to ask... Anything, honestly. But I didn’t even know where I could start; in the end, I was talking to moths, what was crazier than that?

“We can’t tell you everything,” some of the moths mumbled.

“Yeah yeah, he had told us just to help you find your way but we couldn’t stop ourselves,” others complained.

“Once we heard you were still alive, we were so excited,” the moths giggled, holding back screams of joy.

“Yeah, even if one of us ended up saying something about the titan, we wanted to risk a chance,” one in a million of their siblings said, and if almost every one of them were speaking at the same time, I heard it.

Every single one, but one brought my curiosity, “Titan?”

It was all I needed to ask before they went into a deep silence.

The moths hushed as my question lingered in the night air. Their whispering dance seemed to still, and the anticipation was palpable. Then, one moth separated itself from the swirling mass and approached me.

It wasn’t the same one I was already familiar with compared to the others, but its wings fluttered with a measured elegance.

“We should not say anything about it,” the moth said, “It’s just a rumor, a cruel one”

“But the prophecy?” one of the others questioned, daring the one that was speaking for them, “The prophecy says…”

Most of them hushed the little one, giving voice to the same one of before, “As I said, it’s just a rumor. Some things are better left unknown, life must unfold naturally..”

“You said about a prophecy,” I tried to reason with it, approaching the moth, “What prophecy?”

The moth shook its little head, “You must go now, Eurydice Gaumont”

“No” I persisted, stomping my feet into the ground.

But it didn’t matter what I wanted, slowly the scenario around me started to go blurry and slowly the sound of rain tapping returned.

I protested, but the scene blurred, and before waking, I heard the words, "In shadows deep, a reaper's kid must tread..."

Then, I was back on the bus again. Alone.

I looked around, trying to look for something. But despite the sleepy sleepers who snored near me, there was nothing new after the dream. It was still dark, the first sign of sun daring to peek out of their hidden spot.

Sighing, I looked at the sky, searching for an answer. At that point, I wouldn’t be surprised if the answer came in the form of a god of the sun trying to mime what I should do next. Or sing—I didn’t know much about Greek gods at that time, but I was almost sure that the god of the sun in the stories also sang.

What was that I had heard? A reaper’s kid, right?

Now, what did that mean?

Sighing once more at the dawn of that day, every time it looked like things were making sense, my life would get twisted.

A sound of wings caught my attention when I looked at the empty seat by my side. The moth from the convenience store and my dream was my company once more. If it had a face, it would look like regret or shame.

It flapped its wings, as if to call my attention again.

“I’m seeing you, stupid,” It flapped its wings one more time, perhaps it didn’t like being called stupid, “You didn’t talk like your siblings at that forest right, I don’t remember hearing you”

And I truly didn't. For some reason, I could recognize each moth that had talked in that clearing, but none of them was the one that had been with me since Springfield.

This time, the moth flapped its wings twice.

"Alright," I scoffed, contemplating the sanity of conversing with a moth. "Enough beating around the bush; what do you want to tell me?"

Rather than flapping, the moth took flight, turning beneath my seat. I didn’t know how to curse, but what I thought was similar to a ‘what the fuck?’

Leaning forward, I peered beneath my seat, expecting to find the bags from the convenience store—snacks, sweets, water, a flashlight, and some change. Yet, unlike what I remembered, there was also a backpack.

Which, by chance, was not mine.

It reminded me of the backpacks I had seen at the store or some of the other people on that bus wearing, but I didn't have enough money to buy even a fanny pack.

Puzzled, I picked up the backpack and examined it. It seemed lost, probably belonging to another passenger. To my surprise, my name was on a sticker affixed to it.

Was it truly mine?

I opened the backpack, looking for what could be inside.

If my expectations were set on receiving a cellphone, all-star shoes, additional snacks, clothing, or perhaps a map, I would find myself in a perpetual state of hope until the arrival of the non-existent date of February 31st. Alas, none of those anticipated items were to be found.

What I found was, in fact, a leather wristband with a snap button closure, adorned with small stones. Accompanying it were a couple of coins, featuring a peculiar carving that deviated from any standard penny. Doubtingly, I reached in, confirming the wristband, coins… Plus a map.

At least that.

Exhaling deeply, I hoped my godly father, wherever he was, could hear me. Was this his gift? A questionable assistance from a man presumed dead.

Truthfully, I anticipated something more beneficial for survival, perhaps a letter explaining his whereabouts and the ongoing events. It was the least he could offer after all these years.

My mother had portrayed him as a soldier with a calm heart, unwilling to return to duty but aware of their need for a reminder of peace. How every end no matter how it began, would meet peace. She would always remind me that he would be the one to go down in a nonviolent way, with his hand laying on his chest, above his heart.

Would. She never said he was. Because he was a god, a greek god.

Knowing I was aware of his divine status, he chose to bestow upon me strange money, a wristband, and a map. Well, the map, at least, seemed somewhat helpful.

I stowed away the bags containing my purchases from Springfield into the backpack, arranging the snacks and supplies meticulously to avoid any mishaps during my travels—whether it involved catching the next bus or evading a new monster.

The coins and map found their place inside the backpack as well. However, before I could tuck away the wristband, curiosity got the better of me. It was a finely crafted leather piece, elegant and delicate.

Examining it closely, I wondered if my father had crafted it himself. The mere thought tightened my heartstrings.

Looking at the inside of the wristband, I frowned when I found something carved into the leather. Something was written into another language.

I turned the wristband and looked at it closely, words were always hard to me so if I wanted to understand what it meant, I would have to take my time.  If I intended to understand its meaning, patience would be crucial. Or so I thought.

As the letters began to weave into each other, a surprising clarity emerged. Instead of becoming a confusing jumble, they started to make sense.

Tenebris.

While it wasn't an exact match to what was written, it was undeniably the meaning it conveyed.

Latin, perhaps?

Gazing at the wristband once more, I opted not to return it to the backpack. Instead, I made the choice to wear it.

Perhaps my father had indeed crafted it. Wearing it became my silent expression of appreciation, a subtle invitation for him to emerge from his hidden shell.

Ultimately, it proved to be a beautiful wristband.

When I looked out the window again, the sun was already rising. We seemed to have arrived in New Haven, recognizable to me from a previous visit. It appeared we were near State St, very close to Yale.

There was a time when I thought I might study there, a distant dream from my younger self. Back then, despite never attending a real school, I held onto the possibility.

Revisiting the city at fourteen, a few years later, doubt crept in.

Knowing what I now knew, it wasn't hard to recognize that the odds were always against me. I never had the chance, not before, and certainly not now.

As soon as the bus stopped and the other passengers started to get off, I did the same. I picked up my backpack and put it on, following the others to the street, deciding to be the last one to get down.

For a moment, I waited a bit before finally getting off, looking inside the bus and waiting for the moth from earlier to appear and follow it. But, it didn't happen.

So, I went my way. If I remembered correctly, there shouldn't be another bus stop so far away, I could eat something on the way while I looked and hope my change would be enough for the next ticket. Or, hope they would accept my dad's weird coins.

As I strolled down the street, I seized the opportunity to approach strangers, concocting a flimsy tale about a new school on Long Island and my ailing parents unable to assist with transportation. However, as they began to provide directions, a sinking feeling crept in.

Clearly, I lacked the funds for the entire journey.

Faced with limited options, I considered potential avenues. One option involved seeking employment on the streets, donning a somber expression and appealing to tourists for financial assistance. Ironically, the more morally questionable choice proved to be the swifter means of acquiring funds.

Anyway, I tried to risk it, at least make it to the bus stop that supposedly was the cheapest one to my journey. Maybe, the driver could take some pity on me and take me to Pennsylvania. If not, I would have start to figure how to gain money for the whole trip, I wouldn’t dare to walk all the way to that fucking camp.

I walked, walked, walked and walked down State St. As I traversed the street, covering only a fraction of the distance, I encountered a Thai Restaurant. The sight of it made my stomach protest loudly; I hadn't eaten in a while, and the prolonged walking intensified my hunger.

However, there was no way I would eat in the middle of the street, under the scrutinizing gaze of strangers. That was out of the question.

Despite mustering all the courage, I hesitated to knock on the closed restaurant's door. Even if a waiter were to appear, what excuse could I possibly give for not wanting to dine outside?

So, I found an alternative. In less than a minute, I seated myself in an alley, extracting a snack from my backpack and indulging in it.

In fact, that was within question.

Ignoring the curious glances of passersby, I continued my impromptu meal. Candies followed, accompanied by sips of water. This brief moment of rest was crucial before resuming my walk under the scorching sun.

I just needed two minutes, or maybe ten… Honestly, a whole thirty minutes were enough for me to restore my energy.

As I rested, I took another look at the wristband I was wearing. The more attention I paid to it, the more I noticed a strange energy emanating from it. It was difficult to explain and even less tangible—an unknown aura surrounding something hidden inside the leather, beyond the engraved letters.

When I opened my mouth to express the feeling, the only thing that came to mind was the night of a day or two ago.

My mother was held in the air by the monster's hand, the only one watching her intensely and impatiently, while all she did instead of fighting was ask me to run. And run was what I did.

Until I heard her scream—a stunning, heart-wrenching scream that froze my feet in place, forcing me to witness her body flying to my side, blood overflowing from her mouth. Her torso seemed broken or twisted enough to inflict severe internal injuries.

Still, she had the strength to ask me to keep running. How could I? How could I run and leave her behind?

I couldn't do that. Instead, I stood beside her, ignoring the disturbing footsteps of the Cyclops approaching.

I held my mother's hands, hoping to somehow absorb her strength. Perhaps I did, for even though I didn't follow her request, it seemed to matter little to her. As if, in the end, she felt no pain.

Tears and sobs dampened my face, but I could swear she thanked me. Ridiculous, considering I should be thanking her for being an incredible mother, sacrificing everything for my safety. If only I had known sooner...

After that, everything was a blur, difficult to understand. Holding her hands, a strange sensation tingled down my spine, adrenaline coursing through my entire body. When I saw my mother attempting to say something but succumbing to exhaustion...

The Cyclops was already beside me, reaching to grab me.

Anything between that moment and the hospital was a haze. Fragments of memories. I recalled his hands trying to lift me off the ground, my palms facing his monstrously large fingers. Almost facing a 5-meter drop but feeling no pain.

When the ambulance arrived and I reached the hospital, attempting to explain what I had understood about the situation at the time, they were most surprised that I hadn't broken my legs or at least sprained an ankle. But I think my exhaustion and grief were enough for them to believe me.

I tightened my lips, holding back tears at the memory. What did my mother's death have to do with my father's gift?

Tenebris—was that really the only clue I had?

Gradually, a shift occurred in the air, and it didn't escape my notice.

Within moments, an unsettling realization dawned – something was amiss. The streets teemed with people running in the opposite direction of my intended path once I felt ready to resume my journey. Fear and confusion etched on their faces left me puzzled about the impending threat.

Swiftly, I rose, stowing away my belongings in my backpack and hoisting it onto my back. Approaching adults warned me of an out-of-control truck menacing pedestrians, urging me to find safety. Some chose the rational path, sprinting toward the police station for genuine assistance.

However, skepticism gnawed at me. It didn't ring true. Something felt off.

My eyes caught sight of the unfolding drama a few streets away, just beyond the dog park on the opposite side of my position.

Initially, I perceived three kids, one notably smaller than the others, sprinting from an unseen threat. The girl in black wielded a makeshift spear, while her companion brandished a golf club. How could such feeble weapons aid their escape from an out-of-control truck? Why weren't they going to a store or going to the sidewalk?

Then, I understood.

At first glance, the runaway vehicle resembled a refrigerated truck, careening down the road with a desperate screech. The driver, concealed behind black-tinted windows, eluded my view from this distance.

However, as I advanced, sidestepping the frantic adults, reality emerged.

It was no truck, but a snake. A giant fucking snake. There was no other way to describe it.

All the sense I was lacking suddenly decided to take control of my actions. My brain, which had previously been unable to muster the courage to stand at the door of a closed restaurant, had now regained enough courage to force my feet to run after that atrocity.

For no logical or plausible reason, from one moment to the next, my rationality  was replaced by stupidity.

The monstrous serpent pursued the kids, including the one almost the same age I was when I met Viola. It seemed absurd to consider intervening, given the potential to continue on my way or capitalize on the disturbance to pilfer from unsuspecting pockets. Yet, I couldn't turn away.

Just as I couldn't flee when my mother's cries pierced the air or when she tried to wrench me from Viola's grasp as the Chimera's stinger pierced her chest in the past.

Perhaps it was stubbornness, authentic courage, or sheer impertinence.

It remained unclear where my resolve originated as the idea of confronting a giant snake pursuing a group of children took hold.

The snake, swift and destructive, both hindered the children and itself. Exploiting that and my familiarity with the streets and their shortcuts, I discerned an opportunity to intervene.

I ran like I had rarely ran before, until the tips of the toes hurt. My sneakers had already gone belly-up to that moment, after all the running I have being doing in the past months.

I walked around the streets, without for a second taking my eyes off the scales of that thing. Entering some alleys and following the murmurs and exclamations of the children as they tried to formulate a plan, even though they were at a disadvantage.

Swallowing hard, I took advantage of the shelter outside some buildings to avoid the fragments of asphalt, cement, poles and benches flying everywhere. Gradually but quickly managing to reach that monster.

But that didn't mean I didn’t continue to run, attempting to maintain a good and safe distance between the giant snake and the peculiar trio.

"Hey, girl!" the older girl from the trio shouted, attempting to grab my attention. "Get out of here, it's not safe!"

She wore dark clothes that complemented her short, black hair and extremely light blue eyes. In addition to the makeup on her face, which was almost gone, having been worn away by time for a long time.

It didn't take long to notice her limp, a testament to an injured foot sustained during the chase – or even before.

I just smiled, hiding behind some trash cans and away from the giant snake's senses, hoping it would continue to pay all its attention to that bunch of kids. Which, to be honest, weren't much younger than me, except for the little girl.

"No, you guys go," I shouted back, "Head into the park and blend in with the crowd there. It'll be hard for them to believe that a truck would actually enter a park."

At least, that's what I thought at the time. Nowadays, I know that mundanes would still believe in the idea of an out-of-control truck wreaking havoc, even within a park.

They didn't follow my advice; instead, they halted their escape.

“Aegis,” the girl from before exclaimed, and her bracelet transformed into an incredible shield. She shielded her friends, positioning the protective barrier in front of them, waiting to see my next move. The boy behind her appeared both confused and scared, alternating his gaze between me and his friend as if awaiting an order.

At this point, I was hoping for one too. I had no idea what to do, and I didn't even have a weapon.

However, the giant snake paid no heed. I could distinctly hear its slithering and the destruction of cars in its path. I refused to let fear or my earlier stupidity show on my face.

Instead, I glanced at my wrist, the leather band my father had given me. For a moment, I wished it were a weapon, similar to the girl's shield bracelet.

Despite having the slightest idea of how to handle a weapon, I hoped for anything that could help me assist those three.

Timing couldn't have been worse for it to resurface, but as I looked at a trash can in front of me, the usual moth landed patiently, as if awaiting something.

Perhaps it shared the girl's curiosity about what I would do.

Then, I remembered—the sound of rain yesterday morning, at the funeral, and even at night on the bus, a hostage to "what ifs" that could have transpired instead of my current reality. I remembered the blood, dark red staining my hands and clothes, and how cold it felt against my skin. I didn't care, holding my mother's hands with all my might.

Just like I tried to hold Viola that day, attempting unsuccessfully to move her body away from the Chimera's sting.

The giant snake drew closer, its slithering growing clearer by the second.

Glancing at my wristband again, the carved words caught my eye.

Out of the corner, I saw the snake's scales and its wild eyes. Emerging from my hiding place, a word escaped my mouth like a battle cry before I fully comprehended my own line of reasoning.

"Tenebris!"

A blinding light filled the air, halting the giant snake and diverting its attention towards me. I closed my eyes, feeling the wristband transform within seconds.

Suddenly, something weighed down in my hand, like the sheath of a sword. Its dark sheath matched my wristband's leather, and its slightly curved blade, made of an uncanny bronze material, felt strangely familiar. Bronze. The sword's blade was made of bronze.

As quickly as the light appeared, it dissipated, replaced by a cloud of darkness covering my ankles and part of the street and alley.

The trio gaped at the spectacle. The older girl struggled to maintain her defensive stance, her injured foot hindering her movements. The younger one's wide and curious eyes betrayed a mix of fear and fascination, while the boy among them clutched his golf club with a determined expression that hinted at a desire to help.

Without giving the serpent a chance to recover from the blinding light from before, I surged forward, the newfound sword in hand. The blade cut through the air with a metallic hum, and I slashed at the serpent's scaly underbelly.

It hissed in pain, recoiling momentarily.

In the end, the wristband was a useful gift. I had to remind myself, one day, to thank my dad.

Seizing the opportunity, I circled the serpent, keeping it off balance, continuing to slash its scaly skin. It tried to knock me down with a movement of its body, but before that could happen, I dodged it, cutting its scales once again. But this time I made a point of sticking my sword in, hoping to hit some organ of his, then pulling the sword out.

The boy with black hair, recognizing an opening, sprinted to the serpent's other side, wielding his golf club like a hero facing a dragon from the tales. His fearless determination served as a distraction, affording me yet another chance to strike.

The girl, despite her injury, bravely stood her ground, using her shield to protect us and the little girl. While, said little girl, spurred by a sudden burst of courage, found a dagger in her pocket and joined the fray.

The serpent, now enraged, lunged at us with deadly precision. The older girl skillfully deflected its strikes with her shield, while the boy continued to harass it from the side. The younger girl and I coordinated our attacks, aiming for vulnerable spots between the scales.

As the battle raged on, I felt a surge of adrenaline, my movements becoming more fluid and instinctive. My sword seemed to respond to my will, enhancing my speed and strength. Each strike resonated with power, and the serpent's resistance weakened.

Finally, with a resounding clash, I drove the sword into the serpent's forehead, or what looked like its forehead. The creature convulsed, its massive form thrashing before collapsing to the ground. The dark cloud dissipated, leaving only the echoes of the intense battle.

Breathing heavily, I turned to face the trio, equally exhausted.

They, too, looked weary, particularly the girl nursing an injured leg. Despite their fatigue, they regarded me with awe, as if I had materialized from the pages of a fantastical tale. Given the circumstances, I couldn't blame them.

I didn't blame them, I really had appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm Thalia," the older girl introduced herself, leaning against a wall as her shield reverted to a bracelet. "That's Annabeth," she pointed to the younger dark-skinned girl, now displaying a hint of shyness.

"And I'm Luke," the boy interjected, assisting his friend to stand while keeping a watchful eye on me, still processing the surreal reality of our shared encounter with the monstrous serpent.

"I'm Eurydice," I replied, glancing at my sword and back at them. "It seems like you needed a little help."

“We did,” Luke agreed, looking at me from head to toe, but keeping his eyes on mine while talking to me, “And I think we still do”

Shifting his attention to his injured friend, he examined her leg, revealing a severe wound beneath her baggy jeans. Thalia attempted to whisper something to Luke, diverting his hands away from the injury.

Feeling lost and searching for a solution, my eyes wandered, and I spotted a parked car on a nearby sidewalk—doors open and windows relatively intact. It seemed like an abandoned vehicle amidst the chaos.

"I can drive," I offered, drawing the trio's attention. "I just need to know where we should go and someone who knows how to start a car without a key."

Luke sighed, helping Thalia walk toward me, followed by Annabeth.

"Lucky for you, I know both," the grin he flashed at me while uttering those words hinted at one unmistakable thing: trouble.

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions 10: Every Rule

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader (Original Female Character)

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Word count: 7401

Summary: Firefly takes some time for clarity and understanding about everything and everyone, including the role she plays in Dave's life and the one he plays in hers.

Warning: This chapter is incredibly PLOT heavy...and while it absolutely 100% includes Dave, is very focused on reader and her feelings for and about him. Angst. Religious symbolism. Angst. Violence. Angst. PiV sex - wrap it up lovahs, riding, mild restraints, creampie. Angst. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own. Please be kind.

A/N: Thanks to all my babes who encourage me to continue writing even though it can be fucking hard and so personal especially when you put your heart and soul into each character. Also, if you are familiar with the Equalizer trilogy then you will know and understand some of this.

@youandmeand5bucks @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @morallyinept @secretelephanttattoo

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @sheepdogchick3 @casa-boiardi @missladym1981 @untamedheart81 @drewharrisonwriter @guelyury

“Lying on top of you is one thing, but getting close to you is another. I feel close to you, one with you, you’re mine whether it is acknowledged or not.”—Henry Miller 

In the morning you awoke with a start, reaching for an alarm clock that didn’t sound, for a body that wasn’t there. Morning light whispered through the paper-thin curtains, shining on the bare stone wall. Working together with the gentle breeze from outside, a slow sense of calm began to hold you. Seabirds and salt air surrounded you as you opened a window—a wooden shutter with three slats crooked, broken, and beautiful, the only barrier to a rectangle shaped hole in the stone.

Slow and easy, sometimes boring—those were your mornings since you had arrived. You stumbled through the first few days like an infant taking its first steps. No electronics, no real connection to the outside world, relying on shuffling through pages of a pocket-sized English to Italian dictionary to navigate your way through the occasional brief conversations you had with the Altamonte locals as you gathered your bearings.  

The constant overthinking presented an obstacle to overcome. By your eighth day there, the simplicity of life wouldn’t allow it. Neighbors shouted morning greetings through open and bright green shutters as you dressed. A t-shirt, white and crisp, a pair of well-loved jeans, and a black leather jacket finished with a pair of white sneakers. A uniform or sorts, you thought, as you descended the stairs from your apartment. A passerby could have been a mirror image of you just by clothing alone. Was this what people meant by “dressing like a local”?

At a nearby café, your ability to blend in was tested as you found your place in a sea of color neutrality, sitting at the lone empty table near the front door. A youthful and friendly server who looked to be no older than 17 approached you, her raven curls atop her head bounced when she stopped. Not a line tempered her smooth, dark olive skin as she flipped open her notepad with a smile. 

“Cosa desidera Lei?” 

“Un caffe per fevore,” you replied, with the young server nodding in acknowledgement at your order. 

From your purse you grabbed a journal of worn, brown leather. Its corners curled upward from opening and closing it frequentlly The pages lay ruffled and beaten with the gift of constant use. Your fingers also grasped a pen lost in the depths of your bag that met you like an old friend that had come to save you in your time of need. The ink flowed from your pen to the paper as you wrote about the salt air, the distant cawing of seagulls skimming the shore, and the mist of calm that seemed to settle over every corner of the town.

You turned your head to look through the clean windows into the cafe to observe the locals—individuals, couples, families. The images of them gleamed like reflections on a stream. In the window, you imagined Dave next to you—a mirage, a specter haunting and present no matter how hard you tried to push it away. In the back of your head, you asked yourself: Do I really want to? 

“Buongiorno!” a voice rich and deep in time and timber reached out to you. 

A newly familiar face greeted you. His hands, like his voice, showed evidence of assuredness through lines of time and wisdom that were beginning to settle on the backs of his hands. The smile lines on his face were set dark and deep into his face, indisputable evidence of living. 

“Buongiorno, Dottore!” you exclaimed, standing up to take his hands and give him a kiss on each cheek. 

“Everyday, at the same time, I see you here,” the rich melody of his voice and the kind smile he gave you managed to whisk away the chill that coursed through your blood, if only for a moment. 

“Well, the calm is a nice…change,” you mused and paused for a moment, contemplating if you really believed your own words.

Enzo settled down in the chair next to you, the smile beneath his mustache was warm and fatherly.  As he sat next to you, the young server returned carrying two small cups of coffee for both you and Enzo. You observed closely as Aminita, as Enzo lovingly called her, greeted him with greater familiarity than you had combined with an even greater respect. He spoke to her with the kindness of a doting grandfather. Bits and pieces of their melodic words met your ears, the depths of your brain manipulating them until you worked out their meaning in English. 

“So, what have you seen since you have been here?” Enzo inquired as he settled into a chair next to you. 

“Oh, it’s only been a few days, but,” you sighed with a dramatic pause, “just having the ocean right here has been more than enough.” 

Enzo smiled back at you and his eyes glimmered with excitement and wonder. It was the kind of gleam that you had only seen among young children and the old. Pressing his hands together he stood up and waved at you in a gesture for you to finish your coffee. You sipped as quickly as you could, your coffee just on the right side of warm---the cozy kind of warmth that wrapped you in an invisible hug on a cold day. 

“Andiamo,” he urged you as you swallowed the last of it. “Come on, I’ll show you the real Altomonte.” 

“Ok, ok!” you replied, conceding to him. 

Uncomfortably, you chugged the last bit of coffee with an audible hiss before you stood up. You took quick steps over the cobblestone streets as you followed Enzo. His gait was quick and determined for a 60-year-old. A smile curled at the corners of your lips as you watched him skip ahead of you with more excitement than a tour guide being paid to show you the village.  

He walked you through one of the many archways of the town, this one longer than others. The path was just wide enough to allow for the regular flow of movement brought to life by the villagers. What greeted you through the arch was more life than you had expected, not dark and dank as you had presumed. Nestled along the stone walls were market vendors selling homemade wears of rosaries, crucifixes made of wood from olive trees, and hand-embroidered scarves delicately adorned with intricate, swirling designs. You could feel your mouth drop open in awe as you caressed your fingers along a deep blue scarf with two white lilies embroidered at each corner. You were certain that the elderly woman who made this was grossly underestimating the time and talent it took her  to fashion such a unique and beautiful item. A small, rectangular piece of paper lay on top of the scarf and written in ballpoint pen was the price of a mere 50 euros. 

“Beautiful, yes?” Enzo remarked with a smile. 

His eyebrows were raised as he looked back at you. Reaching into your purse you pulled out your beige, leather pocketbook to procure a one hundred euro note. It called to you, that foreign feeling that you so rarely experienced of reaching for something that you just knew you had to have. It had only happened once before.

Your hand trembled slightly as you handed the woman the euro note, a sign of the thoughts of Dave that took hold of you. As the woman took it, the wrinkles around her smoothed from her wide-open eyes. The look of shock overcame her as she examined the note. She waved at you, her tone an odd mixture of gratitude and scolding that could come only from a strong Italian woman. 

“Ti prego di prenderlo,” you insisted in as humble a tone as you could. “E magnifica.” 

You watched in earnest as Enzo spoke to the woman, conceding to her and talking her down until she stared back at you with a satisfied glimmer in her eye while handing you the scarf. Immediately, you tied it loosely around your shoulders while following Enzo’s lead ahead of you. As you sauntered through the cobble stoned streets, Enzo pointed out the fish market. The owner, Angelo, waved at you alongside his wife and son as they proudly arranged fresh fish on piles of ice—waiting for villagers to snatch them up for their evening meal.

The sunlight greeted you on the other end of the archway, where ancient stone walls guarded each side and where Enzo stood at the foot of a steep set of stairs. He turned around to you and gestured towards the steps with excitement surging through his fingertips. 

“Have you gone up to visit the church?“

Your gaze followed Enzo’s upward to a church set into the mountains, that stood proud with its pristine ivory in color that was brighter against the lush, green foliage of the mountainside. A hint of premature frustration crept beneath your skin as you mentally took in the slope of the stairs. You were in good shape, you had to be. Yet your legs automatically ached with a phantom pain that you knew would come from traversing the steep climb to the church. 

Enzo gestured for you to come over, picking up one foot after another over narrow and steep stairs. The waves of the Mediterranean crashed over the walls guarding the village. The fresh salt air traveled with the breeze until it began to dance in your hair. 

“Climb these steps every day and you’ll be young the rest of your life,” he teased, “That is my doctor’s order for you.”

Something between a laugh and a gasp escaped you before he gestured for you to catch up. When you finally did, your eyes settled on the weathered rock as the air caressed your hair and your lungs filled with deep, cooling breath that led to a wistful sigh. 

“Come on, old man!” You took the chance to take a break from your jog to rib your dark-haired companion as he fought to catch his breath standing amidst a steep, but beautiful set of stairs.

You rocked your hips back and forth as you kept your feet bouncing from side-to-side in a stationary jog. He looked up at you, gathering his hands at his hips as sweat began to gather at the center of his charcoal-colored t-shirt, clinging to his lean, but broad-shouldered form. Not one speck of amusement found itself on his face as he glared at you. The steadiness of his stare caused you to slow your jog to merely stepping your feet beneath you. When a smile finally slid over the surface of his pouty lips, his eyes bore into you, heavy, dark, and tempting --- the look of the devil you always wanted to know. 

“I’ll be generous,” you recalled him saying, his words dripping like the sweetest nectar from the most forbidden flower, “and give you a head start.” 

“Just like you to assume I need one,” you challenged as you stood above him, placing your hands on your hips. 

He readied himself a few steps below you, a determined glint in his brown eyes that sent a chill scurrying up and down your spine. Simultaneously, it sent a warm, throbbing sensation at your center as he looked you up and down. He doubled down on his threat, setting himself in a starting stance to race up the stairs. You followed suit, turning your back away from him, trying to keep your focus ahead of you. His very presence behind you already threatened to consume you and though he was steps below you, you swore you could feel the heat of his exhales rippling on the back of your neck.

And with no warning, he spoke, “Run.” 

The memory of you leaping up the stairs traveled through your feet as you slowly made your way up the steep stairs leading to the church. It was silly really—the present was just a moving dichotomy of your memory. 

You didn’t dare look behind you. Doing so would have meant certain defeat. An feeling of nervousness mixed with intrigue filled you as you ran, ran, ran as fast as you could. The sense of him gaining on you heightened through every pore. Your feet pounded on the steps and your arms swung tightly with each quick stride. Quick breaths rattled from your lips as you focused your eyes to the top of the majestic stairs. Cockiness lined your lips into a premature victory smile, when you suddenly felt a pair of hands grab at your hips, forcing you to slow down to a rhythm that matched his body. You felt the heat of his warm fingers wrapped around your elbow as he pulled you into a dark, concealed alley. Breathing even harder than when you were running, Dave pressed you against the wall, his hips rolling against yours. 

His face was so close that you could smell the clean, yet intoxicating sweat that collected upon his skin that had been made golden with Sicilian sun. Each breath he drew was quick and in time with yours. A quick gasp escaped you as you felt his warm hand lower to skim the waist of your leggings, his thick fingers. A shiver circulated through your body as he toyed with the elastic band. 

“When are you going to learn, Firefly?” he growled into your ear, his lips brushing at your neck and earlobe. “I’m always going to catch you.”

***

“Bella! Bella!” 

Enzo’s voice sounded through the cloud of your memory. Without even really being cognizant of it, you had made it to the top of the ancient stairs. The breeze blew stronger at this height, whipping your hair across your face. As you brushed your waves back, your eyes beheld how the wind danced on the rich, blue water and how it made ripples that shimmered with the golden sun. 

“You see, all this makes Altamonte,” he gestured to the church, the statues, and the paintings of the woman. 

You stared at the wonder and pride in his eyes. Somehow, you knew he meant more than just this place. If he could, he would just stretch his arms from here to the ocean. From his voice that trembled with pride and from the gleam that shined in his eyes, you knew. Only an act of God could wash it away. 

“Come in child,” he said, as he gestured you over to the door of the church. 

“Oh no, I’m not religious,” you said as your shoulders shrunk from the discomfort of the words. 

You didn’t need proselytizing. 

“You think she cares?” Enzo asked, already halfway through the threshold of the church. “But you choose.”

Humoring him, you stepped inside. An unexpected shiver oscillated, tapped, and pricked over your body. Goosebumps arose beneath your sweater. The cold that lived in the walls easily could have trapped you, threatening to take away whatever life you felt beneath your skin. Instead, it invigorated you as they made union with the warm colors of the sun that painted the walls of church like they were her own, personal canvas. You peeked through the windows that let that light in. Each had a perfect view of the village. The beauty had you holding your breath as you marveled at how the stone buildings gathered together and overlooked the bluest water you’d ever seen. 

When you finally let yourself breathe again, you found a seat next to Enzo. He knelt in reverence, his eyes closed and hands clasped together. The flicker of several candles set the room aglow, his flame burning brightly among the many. 

You, on the other hand, sat with quiet patience. It was more like a museum to you. Your eyes settled over the statues and paintings that adorned the church. So much adoration for a woman filled in a church that was ostensibly governed by men. 

Maybe they had it wrong, you thought. Maybe the church was meant to be built upon the shoulders of a matriarch who chose her path of raising a leader, instead of a girl who was bestowed the gift of raising a savior. The way these thoughts meandered through your mind was nearly enough to make you laugh. Sometimes you shouldn’t be left to your own thoughts. 

Enzo settled back into pew in the empty space next to you. A deep sigh escaped him as he turned his head to you. His eyes softened in concern. A slight discomfort pressed onto your shoulders as you navigated your response to the kindness. 

“People always come and rest here, some pray, some meditate until they find an answer,” Enzo said, his voice imbued with the notes of great wisdom. “Even me.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue. 

“And you, too, correct?” He asked. 

He didn’t even entertain you with the space or time to answer, not that you had one to give him. Not one that was truthful by any means. Instead, you nodded and waited for whatever wisdom he was ready to give you.  

“I don’t judge,” he stated with a look so deep with thought and an undercurrent of pain that you knew his words were true, “Nothing good comes from it.” 

He sighed again. The weight of whatever memory he was holding was heavy on his shoulders. The tired lines around his eyes seemed to grow in real time, a remnant of the pain that remained.            

“I’m not trying to…ehm…intrude in your personal business,” he paused to find the words, “but are you really here for rest, to find peace, as you say? Or…are you running from something?” 

And there it was: the truth. It had never left. In that moment you could have felt anger, maybe something bordering on hatred for someone cornering the truth out of you. But you didn’t, not this time. You met the doctor’s gaze with the same hesitancy of a child who was hiding something from a parent. Without words, he knew the answer but bore no judgment against you. Instead, he patted you reassuringly on the hand as you took in the warmth of the flickering flames at the altar. 

The sky was a bolder blue against the midday sun as you took your sojourn back to the main square. It seemed impossible that you’d spent as much time in the church as you had. Enzo held onto your arm lightly as you climbed down the steep stairs. A steady stream of pedestrians began to fill the cobblestone streets as you ambled through corridors from which you came. As you walked through the town, the warm and smiling faces of the locals continued to greet you even as Enzo departed from you to continue with his day. 

The remainder of your day moved in an ethereal mixture of fast and slow. From the time you made it back into town you were able to stroll along the seashore, allowing yourself to bathe in the wind as you dug your toes in the sand to buying bread from the local bakery and enjoying it with a cup of tea you watched the sky melt into shades of coral, purple, and then blue as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. 

As a deeper blue settled in the sky, the evening sounds of Altamonte whispered in a different way than the sounds of the morning. The vibrations were buzzed with an energy that was somehow  enlivening but calming at the same time. It should have called you to join everyone. Instead, you let the sounds energize through the open window of your apartment. And you waited as the locals left the restaurants, drunkenly and lovingly alive. The whispers of the night called you as they always had, as they always would. While the citizens of Altamonte were beginning to turn in for the night, you dressed yourself and immersed yourself in the comfort of the late night. 

You approached a restaurant a few blocks from your apartment. A low, heavy feeling struck you in your stomach. Something pulled at your shoulders, tight and aggressive until it pressed and pulled at the skin of your throat. The invisible intensity threatened you with an unsettling and ominous aggression. You tensed into defensive mode as you moved closer and closer to the scene. Loud clatters of silverware and the dragging of chairs against the cobblestone streets set you into a stance that you only ever needed when a job with Dave and the team called for it. 

You dashed with light steps across the cobblestone to gain a better vantage point of the situation. Despite yourself, you heard Dave’s voice in your head as though he was walking you through a training exercise. 

“Your brain is your best asset. Read, know, and breathe the situation and you have the upper hand.” 

You slinked closer as your eyes focused on the situation before you. The threat: two men. His frame was wiry. He couldn’t have been more than 5’9” you surmised. His dark, wavy hair was slicked back, and the ends curled just past his ears. What he lacked in stature he made up for with menace. His stare was wide and manic as he loitered among the tables strutting forward towards a beautiful, young waitress who’d been cleaning the tables outside. The thin man’s counterpart was noticeably taller and more physically imposing. He stood with an unwavering posture, his wide shoulders. He had a closely cropped haircut, and a brow that dipped down into a deep frown that seemed permanently affixed to his face. 

Fear darkened the face of a young woman’s face as the thin man continued to advance on her, trapping her among tables and  into a corner. The owner, her father, stood in the doorway, his feet ready to stomp forward and rescue his daughter. A few strands of her hair fell over her face as she gestured to him to stay inside the restaurant. Two heavy and threatening hands belonging to the burly crony pushed her father back impeding any heroic action he might attempt. The thumping of your heartbeat was fast and loud in the silence of the night, fast enough and loud enough for you to take a deep breath with the hopes of calming it.

“Collateral damage is always messy and always a liability. Blend in: the less remarkable you are, the less of a target you become.”

With Dave’s instruction resonating in your head, you closed in on the restaurant picking up your pace to a light jog. The thin goon continued to advance upon the young woman as her father struggled against the tall man’s hold, keeping their attention from you. It was as though panic traversed through her body the closer you came. The fear that seemed to hide behind her eyes thumped toward you, pumping you with adrenaline and readiness. He held her hostage with a lascivious scowl as he pushed a strand of hair from her face. His hands grabbed the back of her neck, each finger white with violence as he dragged her forward, her skin already red with pain beneath his vice grip. Both men, so arrogant against the struggle of their captives, paid you no attention. 

“Let them underestimate you, then you can always find a way to get the upper hand.” 

All at once a scream from the waitress, yells, and grunts from her father as he struggled, rose in the air as you lunged towards the thin man forcing his grip from the young woman. Adrenaline pumped through every one of your veins as you pulled his thumb backwards and shoved him back with concentrated strength as you simultaneously pulled the gun that he so arrogantly placed in the waistline of his pants. Losing his footing, he stumbled backwards to the ground. You stood protectively in front of the girl as his brutish sidekick attempted to lunge toward you. 

The man raised his eyebrows for a moment and lifted the corner of his lips into a disgusting smirk. He was big and monstrous. You analyzed how each movement was stifled by how grotesquely bulbous his muscles were. Your foot was already hooked to the leg of one of the metal chairs closest to you. In the second he lunged in your directions, you lifted and ejected the chair at his solar plexus. With an additional, forceful stomp of your foot to his chest that knocked him to the ground. 

In the time it had taken you to knock them to the ground, the waitress and her father had escaped inside, and the sound of a police horn approached quickly. You looked down on the two men and brushed a few wayward strands of hair from your face. Adrenaline rushed from your veins to the tips of your fingers. 

The two men stood up, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles of their expensive Italian suits. The thin man glared at you with his hand placed protectively at his chest. It burned still from the pain you inflicted upon him. 

“I think that’s your signal to leave,” you stated with a voice as steadfast as your stance. You kept your hands tightly on his firearm.

With one more snarl, the men disappeared into the night. The motor of their car rumbled off, growing quieter the further they drove into the night. It was silent and more of Dave’s words surrounded you. 

“Never call attention to yourself, but if you have no choice, you need a plan to leave fast.”

The young waitress and her family looked at you, their eyes gleaming with grateful tears. The only thing you felt you could give was a nod. Receiving gratitude, handshakes, and hugs weren’t anything you were prepared or willing to receive. You just weren’t built for it. 

You rushed away using shadows and looking over your shoulder anytime you found yourself in the light. When you arrived back at your apartment, you set your already neatly folded clothes inside your suitcase. It was another trick Dave had taught you. 

Cellphone. Passport. Wallet. Keys. 

With all of them accounted for, it was time to go. You stared at the gun that you had taken from the thin man. You tried to sift through your options of discarding the weapon, when slow, quiet knocks tapped at your door. In an instant you were pressing your back to the wall, sliding along as you made your way towards the door with the thug’s weapon in your hand. It wasn’t in your itinerary to take care of two gangsters on your vacation. 

One, two, three deep breaths.

The knocks became quicker and more urgent. You listened closely for any noises that would alert you to the kind of weapons they had. Just as you reached to open the door you heard a familiar voice through the door.  

“Child, it’s me: the dottore!” 

You wanted to let out a huge sigh of relief, but your heightened vigilance had settled over your neck and shoulders holding you in a position that disallowed it. 

“Enzo,” you finally called out after much deliberation, “are you alone?”

With immediacy, he replied, “Yes!” 

His voice was as steady and confident as a surgeon who was moments away from performing life-saving surgery. You analyzed it, homing in on its lack of fluctuations, listening for any indication that someone else might be standing next to him waiting for you. You drew one more breath and opened the door. Seeing Enzo standing on the other side alone allowed you to let go of the breath you held in your chest. He rushed past you, closing the door behind him. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“I heard what happened.” 

“How did you--,” you began to ask. 

“I know everything in this town,” he stated plainly, as he looked you directly in the eyes. “Where is the weapon?” 

You felt your brow immediately furrow at his request. This was the kind of situation Dave urged you not to find yourself in. Trusting people, feeling for people, even giving a little bit of yourself to anyone would be a folly in your line of work. One that would certainly get you killed. 

“No, not happening Enzo,” you insisted as you shook your head. “I cannot get you involved.”

“I think it’s too late for that.” 

You stared back at him, feeling a pressure of disbelief and gratitude as he held his hand towards you with a dish rag that he had pulled from a kitchen drawer. You pressed your lips tightly together and a painful sting of tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. Enzo reached his hand out to you again. 

“Are you a good person or a bad person?” 

An unfamiliar feeling of confusion, guilt, and sadness came over you. One that had you re-evaluating nearly everything. 

You replied to Enzo tearfully, “I don’t know.”

He stepped forward and offered you his fatherly stare. The one you felt was so undeserved. 

“Only a good person would say that.”

It was at that moment, you wondered, maybe, if Dave had it all wrong. 

You looked back at Enzo with a look that you hoped conveyed your gratitude. There were no words that existed that held enough magnitude to describe it. You grabbed your things quickly, looking at him once more before you walked out the door. He gave your arm a reassuring squeeze and you pulled him in for a hug. You held him tight, your hands nearly squeezing to the point where neither of you could breathe, shaking as you let him go. 

“Non dimenticare mai chi sei, cocca,” he said followed by a kiss to your forehead that instantly made you feel like you were truly cared for.

And with one last look, you disappeared into the night. The cool air met you and the sound of ocean waves ascended to your ears. Each smell and sound engulfing you and holding you in what you wished was a long goodbye. The bittersweetness of your tears met the corner of your lips. Yet somehow, each event, each choice, and each movement you made reminded you that all of this was just as it was supposed to be. 

***************************

The last 24 hours blasted by you like a bullet train. Everything around you moved in a blur while your body somehow moved at a pace slower than everything around you. You moved through each moment with an exhausted automaticity: getting off the plane, getting a taxi , and finding your way home. 

With caution still at its peak, you entered your home. You checked every room and every closet two times until you felt certain that no one had followed you from Italy. You held your phone in your hand staring at the black screen, contemplating if you should even turn it back on. With a long sigh you pushed the buttons at the side of your phone, setting it quickly aside on your nightstand before running to the bathroom to avoid any notification like they were a plague. 

You stepped into your spacious shower, jumping a little as cold water met your skin before gradually raining on your body with much needed warmth. You stepped out of the shower, drying off before wrapping yourself with your towel. You shook your hair with your fingers until your wet waves rested at your shoulder. A notification appeared on your phone connected to your security system.

Filling your lungs with a deep and steady breath you walked towards your kitchen to pour yourself a drink of water. Standing in silence, leaning against your kitchen counter, stood Dave. His eyes stayed only on you with his hands crossed over his chest. He was wearing his best poker face: no anger, no fear, no hate…but for a moment you spotted it: an inkling of relief, a hint of regret, a glint of—? No you wouldn’t let yourself welcome the thought.

You brushed past him, pouring yourself some water. You looked up at him, no words leaving either of your lips. The water was cold, refreshing, and awakening on your lips. As you walked past him back to your you could practically feel him seething. Coming at you like heat waves but bouncing off you as you kept your cool. 

Staring back at him from the end of the hallway just outside your bedroom you called to him.

“Are you coming to bed or not?”

You swore you heard a sigh of exasperation escape him as he crept towards you with his hands on his hips — the way he always did when he was particularly frustrated. Satisfied by his inescapable allure towards you, you turned away from him, confident in the knowledge that he would follow you. 

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Dave spoke as he perused your hair, your eyes, your face, your skin, “I’m impressed you were able to be off the grid for as long as you did.”

“I don’t think that matters much now,” you declare looking up at him as he moved towards you. “I’m back.”

Dave took his hands to caress your face, his grip against your skin pressed with the perfect amount of firmness. A faint shine of gratitude emanated from his eyes. He would never say it, but you could see it. You could feel it from the touch of his hands and by the warmth emanating from his body—he missed you. 

It was enough. You pulled one hand from your face bringing it down to where your towel wrapped around your body in a tight tuck. With firm guidance you made him pull the towel off your body letting it tumble to the floor. His eyes darkened and he shook his head with a smirk near disbelief as he admired your body. 

“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful as ever.” He groaned as he grabbed at the front of his pants. 

Nearly a month without him, not one text or phone call…by your own design. Forgetting him wasn’t the answer. Understanding yourself in your entirety always led back to the same conclusion: you were his. 

Not able to wait a moment more, you grabbed him by his dark sweatshirt pulling it over his head and tossing it away. You didn’t think you’d taken a pair of pants off a man faster in your life. His breaths came heavy and fast as you pulled him towards you, admiring his naked body as he did yours. 

And then you kissed him.

After so long without him, the fire that sparked from touching him burned hotter than ever. You pulled his body to yours so tightly that your breasts pressed onto his chest, feeling each desperate breath that rose and fell over him. Somehow your arms found their way around his broad shoulders while he wrapped his around you, his hands grabbing your ass massaging up your back, until his fingers are threading themselves in your hair. 

Your kisses were an exploration of renewal, of remembrance of how each other tasted while also, somehow, feeling brand new. His tongue had never been so needy before. The gruff moans that released from his mouth were so different and more unbidden than you’d remembered. And his cock, his lovely, thick, uncut cock, was so hard against your lower belly. The tip already cried for you with precum. 

With one swift movement you spun around and shoved him to the bed. His eyes widened with devilish excitement as he spread his limbs across the expanse of your bed. His cock stood at attention for you, ready to comply with your every demand. 

You crawled towards him, like a black cat slinking in the dark. The smell of him was so musky, salty, and clean as you lowered your face and then your mouth to the tip of his manhood. Holding the warmth of him again felt like a gift as he throbbed in your hands. The taste was even better as you took in the precum onto your lips and then your tongue, each taste bud lighting you up with desire. 

He moaned, his hand hitting your pillow with a thump as your mouth and tongue continued to worship him. 

“Oh shit, fuck!” He growled as he gripped your sheets. 

Not even close to satisfied you lifted your face from your handiwork, tucking your hair behind your ear. You glided forward over his body, giving him another kiss before straddling him, only letting him feel the outer lips of your wet cunt. He reached his hips upward for you.

“Tsk, ah ah ah,” you crooned, teasing him with another grind of your hips, “not til you beg for it.” 

“Fuck, Firefly, fuck—!” 

You moved your hips again. 

Dave couldn’t stop the moans that came from his beautiful lips. So beautiful, you traced your thumb over them. 

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

You grew wetter with each teasing press of your hips. 

An unintelligible and wanton groan came from him. 

You tugged him by the hair, his eyes staying on yours and his brows angled downward in a combination of anger, frustration, and desire unique to him. 

“Tell me, daddy.”

“Fuck, s—so fucking sexy,” he groaned. “Fuck I’ve missed this, your fucking body, my pussy.”

It was all you needed to hear.

You lifted your hips and braced your hand on his chest before you slowly began to sink over his cock. You bit your lower lip as you felt each thick inch of him enter you until he was so deep you could go no further. Pressing your hands onto his soft belly you began to move. Just that nearly sent him over the edge. 

“Fuck, Firefly, how are you even better than I remember?“ Dave praised, as he gripped your thighs with his hands. 

You rolled your hips slowly against his, adjusting to his thick size in your tight pussy. A shuddering breath left your quivering lips. With each bounce and roll of yourself on his massive member turned your breaths into loud and melodic moans. Not wanting to lose yourself just yet, you pressed your lips tighter together the more rhythmic your pace became. His cock throbbed within you, feeling impossible deeper with each move you made. 

“Ah, my god!” You whined, unable to keep silent as Dave suddenly thrust his hips upwards to match your moves. “God, your cock is so good.”

Dave could only muster a gruff moan before interlacing his fingers between yours. You could feel his breath becoming more erratic with each move of your tight cunt over his cock. His hands began to squeeze yours tighter and tighter as your pussy squeezed him.

With a quick forward movement of your hips, his hard member popped out from inside you. 

“Ahh, fuck!” He moaned as he gritted his teeth in frustration at the loss of your wet center around him. 

You climbed off Dave and reached over to your nightstand, pulling a rope from the drawer. You straddled his waist while fashioning a strong knot around his wrists, tying him to your bed frame. He looked up at you, hazy and hungry to feel his cock sheathed in the tightest walls of your pussy. A smirk unfurled itself on his lips as you rocked yourself along his shaft, anointing him with your nectar. 

“How does it make you feel,” Dave spoke, the sound coming from the deepest part of his throat, “thinking you have some kind of control?” 

The words stopped your gyrations and brought your face an inch from his. You could feel your breath circling his lips, close enough that you could see them quiver. With a strong squeeze of your right hand to his face you licked from his chin to just above his lips before kissing him. Your tongue parted his lips with a firm swipe, leading his tongue into a dance he had no choice but to follow. The way your bed frame rattled as you looked down upon him told you more than any words from him could say. 

“So you’re telling me this,” you squeezed and rubbed his cock with the tightest fist you could make around him, “is the gift I get after being gone for so long?”

You slinked your hips back down, teasing his cock with your opening. With the most sultry intent, you stoked his primal want for you, not settling onto him right away. The way he continued to fight against the taut rope around his wrists sent chills that emanated from your center.  He’d never say it, but you certainly knew everything he fought against confessing.  

Generosity began to sneak over you and you allowed him to fill you as you lowered onto him, inch by throbbing inch. And as though your life, your everything, depended on it, you took him for a ride. Consuming, savoring, and indulging in every delicious, warm, and pulsing inch. You brought him to the edge of ecstasy only to bring him back. Your bodies devolved into a beautiful mess of sweat and desire.

Until it was time. Neither of you could hold back. You clutched the headboard as your hips bounced vigorously on his cock. You looked into his eyes and he into yours until you both came with a hot, violent shaking of your body and an uncontrollable thrust from his hips up to yours. Together you filled the walls of your bedroom with a duet of rapturous groans and sobs of euphoria. 

Still holding him inside you, you graciously removed the bindings from his wrist. With urgency, he circled his hands around your waist until they gave your ass one more squeeze. The warmth of his hands traveled up your back and worked through more of your waves before they pulled you in for a kiss. Simultaneously hot and chilly aftershocks of your orgasm trembled through your body before you lifted yourself off him. 

“Goddamn,” he sighed, his voice cracking as you collapsed on top of him.

Minutes passed like hours as you breathed in time with one another. In the silence, you listened closely to each other's sounds. The unexpected feeling of his hand beginning to your hair startled you. He stopped for a moment surprised by your reaction, slowing the movement of his hand, wrapping his arm around you to caress your shoulder with an embrace. He slowed the racing of your heart with more slow breaths and a barely audible hush from his lips. You could feel the intentional slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, your eyes growing heavy until both of you fell into the arms of a deep sleep. 

Late into the night, you stirred with one arm tucked close to you and the other draped lightly over Dave’s. The hum of your ceiling fan drummed peacefully in your ears as your eyes fluttered lightly looking at his form lying next to you. You almost surrendered yourself back to sleep when a sudden thrashing motion shook you awake. 

You propped yourself up and saw Dave tossing next to you, sweat beading at his forehead. His voice started with quiet mumbles, groans, and bellows that shook with anger and fear. You reached over to him, gently caressing his forehead. 

“Dave…Dave?” You started gently. 

He continued to writhe as his brow furrowed and wrinkled his forehead. 

“S--, no, S-- Sa---,” he called out, still trapped in his nightmare. 

“Dave, it’s me!” You said more firmly wrapping his face with your hands. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

He awoke, startled as he looked at you with wild eyes. He pressed his lips to yours, wetting your mouth with a soft warm touch of his tongue, before turning your back to his chest and wrapping you in his arms. He thread his fingers between yours, kissing your shoulders. He murmured words you were almost certain he was unaware of before drifting back to sleep.  A demand? A request? A plea?

“Stay,” his voice breathed through the silence as he gripped you tighter against his warm body, “just stay.”

[ultraericthered]

Random Untitled Erika Furudo Post

Was thinking about Umineko lately, and namely the antagonists in Umineko, of which there are several. This "hot take" post here calls them to mind:

And here's my own hot take that it led me to: Erika Furudo is one of the most well humanized and developed villains in Umineko, and it makes her one of the most likable. Which on its face seems totally against what we all agree makes Erika Furudo the powerhouse of gloriously over-the-top, wretched, reprehensible villainy that she is: she's the worst little gremlin ever and we love to hate her for that.

Hating on Erika and having fun doing so is a what. How about the why that makes it so possible and so invigorating? The heart of it if you will, ironic given that Erika's fundamental weakness is in how she ignores the heart of any given mystery situation she investigates. When you get down to it, there's honestly very little about Erika's basic overlining characterization that's too terribly unlikable any moreso than other Umineko characters. Even when she has to play an evil role, she's like a Batman villain - sort of a combination of the Riddler, Harley Quinn, Lady Firefly and Killer Moth - who's too fun and extravaggent to loathe too much. Most of what is viscerally hateable and despicable about Erika doesn't really come from Erika alone, but from her master Bernkastel and what she brings out in Erika. Bernkastel is the one who built her up to be the greatest, most specialist and awesomest super detective ever or else. She's the one who hard-wired Erika to behave as terribly as she often does through what Lambda calls a process for creating the Grade A Bully (abuse and demean person repeatedly, then give that person power). She's the one who, as Erika's master, directly assigns Erika to all of her objectives and either orders or encourages the methods she turns to. And she even made Erika her personalized doppelganger piece who shares her blue hair and face (and possibly the name, a play on Rika Furude.) In order to please and recieve the love and praise of such a thoroughly cruel and cold-hearted master, Erika emulates her in being just as cruel and cold-hearted. Whenever Erika morphs into the worst concievable version of herself, it's because she's had Bern's prodding and Bern's permission. Bern and Erika are two identical faces to the same whole menace, and we thus despise them both.

But here's the most twisted and deepest facet of Erika's character: we're shown on a number of occassions that were she not tied to Bern, and was just free to act on her own and follow her own course as the detective she naturally is, Erika would not be an evil person. She is, at her core, a maladjusted, arrogant, unkind, deeply flawed, morally gray antihero type character; not all good, but not truly evil. And this is fundamental in understanding why Erika is how she is and appreciating the value in the role she plays. In the extra meta joke segment of the Umineko special epilogue written by Ryukishi07, Last Note of the Golden Witch, there's a very morbidly humorous sequence where some of Erika's characteristics and some of her deeds are being described to characters who've lost all memory of who Erika was, and their takeaway is that whoever was being described sounds like the worst kind of person in the world who no one would ever want to be friends with or invite to parties. A savage evisceration of Erika's character that she's not even present to hear, but the ironic "punchline" of this bit is that, like Erika herself, all these people are missing the heart, as they cannot remember that heart. For without love, it cannot be seen; they've lost memory of the love they all had for this person along with the dislike and displeasure of her unsavory qualities, so they cannot see what reason there could concievably be to want her around. But when they do all regain their memories of Erika's existence, they revert back to knowing that while Erika may be a pain in their rear ends, she's also a precious friend to them who they cherish and appreciate in spite of her many flaws.

This is what I believe to be the paradox that makes up the core of Erika Furudo's character: she is a character who evokes and earns our irritation, disgust, and hatred of her every step of the journey while also being a character that even we can recognize deserves to be loved and be shown love. We love to hate Erika not simply because she's The Worst, we love to hate Erika because we know she has it in her to be better. And so long as she's being The Worst instead, we relish her comeuppances and hope she gets taught a good lesson from all the mishaps and that maybe, just perhaps, long shot though it may be, it'll help her grow and improve in the long run. Through this she crosses the line into being quite a lovable and popular character, as our own softer feelings on her manifest in five different ways: - Affectionate endearment and adoring of her cuteness and quirks. - Amusement at her antics and how humorous she can be. - Pity and sympathy for her when she's sad, pathetic, in pain, etc. - Begrudging respect and admiration for her better qualities. - Even finding her to be distressingly relatable at times! Yes really!

A well known piece of trivia among fans is that much like Princess Azula of Avatar: the Last Airbender fame, the character concept that ultimately became Erika began as a male character - the evil young detective Virgilius, who'd be introduced in EP3 posing as an obscure and overlooked member of the Ushiromiya family, would investigate a dark, brutal version of the Rokkenjima murders that would tie into the origins of Beatrice, and would become Battler's archrival who'd clash with him as a recurring antagonist afterwards. He had only a concept, rough character design, and a few planned scenes to his name before he ended up getting scrapped, but from the look of him, Virigilius was set up to be the Anti-Battler whose character would parallel Battler's own despite the superficial differences. While I'm not the biggest fan of EP2 compared to the other chapters that aren't EP7, I'm ultimately thankful it turned out like it did, as the polarized and confounded fan response led to Ryukishi07 overhauling his plans for the following chapter, replacing Virgilius with the very different Virgilia, and repurposing those original EP3 concepts for EP5. And Erika Furudo as we know her was effected in a major way by two fateful decisions: bumping her debut up to EP5, and making her female. The former tremendously changed up what her dynamic with Battler would be like, having it start off like what was planned for Virgilius but at a more appropriate place in the narrative for that sort of Difficulty Spike in the challenge presented by this character to Battler (rather than Virgilius "beating Battler down to rock bottom" in just the third arc) and then flipping the script completely so that Battler becomes Erika's "Beatrice" and Erika is now Golden Sorceror Battler's own "Battler", making for more interesting and meaningful conflict between them. And the latter meant that rather than be an Evil Counterpart to Battler as Virigilus was going to be, Erika instead became an Evil Counterpart to Ange, being brought in to replace Ange as Bern's piece to use against Lambda and with Ange herself noting the similarities at least twice (which is likely a huge factor in why Ange could so easily forgive Erika after the whole "wanted to marry and rape her big brother" thing, but then again Beato and even Battler himself have no hard feelings about that nasty business...)

Gonna spend the rest of this post with some manga panels from the EP5 adaptation, 'cause while I think Erika's humanizing moments in her subsequent appearances are well known, the manga art for EP5 that allows for more vibrant body language and expressive faces really adds to her and enhances the nuances in her characterization.

Erika's excited enthusiasm for chopsticks is 100% genuine, as is her request for Gohda to bring her chopsticks with which to eat the next dish, 'cause "with a pair of chopsticks, she can eat absolutely any dish!" Except that turns out not to be so, as the next dish is soup. There's a pin drop. Erika is no doubt embarrassed and internally going "Fuck fuck FUCK!" But, she saves face by giving a shrug with an adorably goofy grin on her cute little face, much to everyone's amusement. Of course this is also when everyone starts shilling her to an obnoxious, insufferable degree, but this was a good starting point for Erika's characterization and nice little gesture from her.

The family dinner continues to go well as Erika remains polite and laughs, jokes, and chats with all the others. It's part of her fake good girl routine and doesn't reflect her actual character, but as Jessica puts it, the Ushiromiya conference atmosphere is normally strained and not pleasant to endure. Even if it comes from a disingenuous place, Erika's done a decent thing by livening up the get-together and ensuring that everyone gets to enjoy themselves more than usual.

Note that all this happens before Erika has any reason to despise Battler, nor is she at the point where she wants to use him to find and attain the hidden gold just to spite Jessica and watch how the rest of the family reacts - she actually respects Piece Battler and gets along with him quite well, which is a harbinger for their dynamic to come.

I love that Erika and Dr. Nanjo spent a good many minutes on end just geeking out about different intellectually stimulating topics with each other, and she even uses her famed catchphrase in a joking manner. Granted, Nanjo is a bit inebriated from wine at the moment, but as a funny little aside, Erika says she wouldn't mind being so too!

This is when having someone as bright and genre-savvy as Erika with you during a tense and dangerous situation is a blessing, as she points out why it's both a cliched and terrible idea to split up and look in different places rather than stay together as a group. The scene then escalates into a joke where Erika mocks how easy Beatrice is being to figure out here and how "third-rate" it makes her seem as a culprit before randomly noting that third-rate action movies go in the direction opposite of third-rate horror and mystery stories because the main character can act alone yet always survive. Go figure!

Erika starts to get bored when it's seeming like the mystery isn't going to be an intellectual challenge to think her way through and figure out, and that face of her's conveys that she's not just being snarky here, she is actually getting disspirited by the unfolding of events and had really expected Beatrice to be a worthier opponent.

This is an interesting artistic choice, having a brief panel of Erika's face close up in between Battler's question and Erika giving her cheeky reply. I think she's meant to be thinking "Of course I have a heart. What kind of question is that?", because if she had no heart, she'd never had experienced heartbreak in her past relationship with her unnammed, unseen ex-boyfriend....but that only reminds her that it is because she suffered that heartbreak that she'd much prefer to NOT have a heart, to live in accordance with her mind, intellect and deductive reasoning rather than her heart and feelings for others.

Look at how excited she gets over a closed room! It's so precious! <3

And in another strangely relatable moment for Erika Furudo, she expresses some pleasure at the idea of finding Kinzo dead!

This is Mystery Nerd Erika Furudo fully unleashed. While she gets into smug, insufferable know-it-all territory and displays her lack of empathy by equating the mass murder of 18 people with fictional murders of fictional characters in fictional mystery stories (but to be fair to her, when you come from the Meta Realm and are well aware of the nature of "the gameboard" and "game pieces" in a Witch's Game, it's sort of hard not to have this mental conflation!), it starts off with some genuine gushing and trivia concerning her special interest, which is hard not to find a bit adorable and even identifiable.

After Battler demolishes Erika with facts concerning detective fiction that she didn't know or overlooked, Erika feels humiliated and furious over it, getting visibly flustered and twitchy but trying her best to not lose her cordial front and keep her respect for Battler, both internally and externally. When Battler tests her further, she's brought to the verge of tears from how embarrassed, shown up and shamed she's getting. Even when she's getting back to business as the detective, you can see the tears still in her eyes. Damn, this really cut her deep.

OK, now it's just getting funny. Poor Erika, your ego is so fragile!

Erika was absolutely petrified of having to give her full report of how her investigation's gone and what theories she's come up with to her beloved master. She fears her master will start to hate her and will abuse her verbally, emotionally, and physically for her failings. So Bern seeming to be chill and gracious brings her such visible relief...

....And then Lambda tears into her deductions and theories, ripping them to shreds with Red Truth, and being the most terrifying menace possible. Just look at how Erika takes to it: she's panicked, she's struck by stark horror, she's despairing and feeling violated here!

And there's the abusive treatment from Bern that Erika was fearing! Right after a moment where it looked like her master still had some degree of pride and respect towards her only to cruelly yank the chain and tear her down instead. Erika's horrified face really sells it.

She's the ultimate asshole, but how can you heart not break for her seeing her like this? Even she doesn't deserve to be put through this.

While this is mostly a strange and comical moment where Erika just spontaneously has an outburst at the breakfast table about how she's figured out how Battler was able to pull off an escape from the closed room of Kinzo's Study in an implausible way that he shouldn't have lived through, including saying stuff about her master than no one in the room would understand, this point at the end is just pitiful - Erika is close to shedding tears again and pleading out loud for Bern to forgive her and accept her, to not think her an incompetent failure who can't play her role right, and to not throw her away as her piece.

And then after Bern sends her a sign from above that she heard her plea and understands? We get this. And it's bizarrely wholesome.

This is a particularly interesting bit. Natsuhi tells Erika that she surely must have never really been in love before in her life. Which raises an eyebrow on Erika and she retreats into her head, thinking back to the girl in a shaky, unfaithful relationship that she used to be before she became the great detective and "intellecutal rapist". She dated some guy, she suspected him of being unfaithful to her and invaded his privacy in order to investigate and obtain proof of it, and she was heartbroken by how he threw her out and they broke things off...but in all those memories, she finds no proof that she was ever really, truly in love. And even now, she's never known a loving relationship.

Some really solid fleshing out of this brief line via artwork. When Natsuhi refuses to break down and confess her guilt, still insisting upon her innocence in all the murders (which she's right about, but Erika absolutely needs Natsuhi to be the TRUE "Beatrice" in this case so that Lambda's game can by won for her master and is going to follow the most heartless and twisted logic imaginable in order to reach the solution she wants to reach), Erika's eyes narrow in this very joyless way, shadow falls over her face, her expression glum. Almost like a part of her wanted this case to be wrapped up before she'd have to reach this point and go to the lengths she's about to go to, like she'd hoped she wouldn't have to resort to the slut shamey deduction she'll soon make and feels a bit icky deep down inside that it's about to come to that. She expresses both disdain and pity to Natsuhi, assigning her the blame for what she's about to pull as she was giving her that one chance to avoid it, and Natsuhi refused it.

This is all just so sweet, you almost forgot that Erika's a despicably villainous detective who intends to instill a reign of terror over Beato's gameboard in her master's name, and that Bernkastel is just as despicable for now showering Erika with all the kind treatment and rewards she'd been yearning for from her even when she mistreated her so horribly beforehand and will again horribly mistreat her later.

Just like that, all that kindness from her master, all that she'd been rewarded with, all that good, proud, accomplished feeling she had upon winning the game and becoming the Witch of Truth is gone. Erased. Utterly obliterated. With Lambda sadistically rubbing it in because she gets off on seeing the humiliation of friends and rivals. No wonder Erika undergoes what is by far her most massive mental breakdown in the series at this point and is ready to destroy Battler.

One of the most heartbreaking moments of pity and sympathy for Erika, which is then turned into one of the most heartwarming too. Dlanor comes to Erika's defense and validates the truth she'd managed to pull from this case as being effective and plausible, with Battler also vouching for it since while it can't be definitively proven, it can't be definitively disproved either, both Battler and Dlanor firing shots at Bern by reaffirming it's not a truth that can be written off as pathetic and arbitrarily denied, and Dlanor's vow to protect Erika and her truth finally breaking down all of Erika's walls as she wails and sobs on the floor. Even Lambda seems to find it sweet and pleasing!

Erika Furudo, wherever you are, know that we think you're the Worst Girl and we appreciate you for it. You're bad, and that's <Good>.

[avaantares]

People who live in population centers often don't realize just how much the urban/suburban lightscape has robbed them of.

Not just the stars and galaxies you should be able to see with the naked eye -- though that is also something that's almost impossible to see near cities due to light pollution -- but also the absolutely magical experience of seeing fireflies the way they should be seen. The way they can only exist away from man-made light sources.

Coming back from a historic small-town theatre I frequent, I have the choice between taking the interstate or the rural back roads. I almost always choose the latter, so earlier this evening I was driving out in the country for about 15 miles. That region is primarily farmland with a handful of scattered residences. It was around dusk, and -- friends, it was like the earth was covered in glitter. In the fallow fields and pastures, tens of thousands of fireflies sparkling, just this universal, unbroken twinkling everywhere you looked. The kind of light show that doesn't even look real because we're used to seeing just a few fireflies at a time, if we're lucky enough to have a large backyard or a patch of woods nearby. Or maybe you don't get to see fireflies at all because you're in a city and there's nowhere for them to lay eggs (in undisturbed fallen leaves, mostly), so you've only seen them in videos. But the fireflies were the only lights on this land before we put up our electric flood lights and streetlamps, and in these broad swaths of unlighted field and self-mulching fencerows, they're still thriving.

I watched this display in awe as I drove, slowing down at times to admire a particularly flashy area. And then I'd drive past a house with a billion watts of exterior security lighting, and... nothing. Not a glimmer in those yards. Maybe one lonesome flicker in the ditch by the road, a firefly that couldn't find the party or didn't make it to the darker areas for some reason. It's alone because there's no reason for fireflies to come to bright places; they light up to find mates, and they're obscured and blinded by the man-made lights.

The closer I got to my suburban home, the fewer fireflies there were along the road. When I came to the high school with its massive day-bright stadium lights that stay on all night (and which fill me with rage fully as incandescent for so many reasons), I didn't spot a single firefly for a quarter mile in either direction. Kids growing up in the neighborhoods around that school will never have the chance to watch fireflies in their own yards, or learn to scoop them gently from underneath to catch them without harming them and then let them crawl to the tips of their fingers to fly away again. When they grow up, they won't have any emotional association with fireflies that would inspire them to leave a few leaf piles along the fence in autumn, or to turn out the exterior lights at dusk and let the fireflies do their thing.

It saddens me that many (probably the majority of) people living in this era aren't getting to see how beautiful nature is when we just leave it alone. Instead of enjoying its natural state, we're spraying poisons on our lawns, and replacing native species with non-native ones because the yard looks more uniform that way, and throwing bagged leaves in landfills instead of letting them break down naturally and provide vital habitat for small animals and insects, and installing so many landscaping and security lights around our residences that you could stand in the yard and read by them in the middle of the night. Fireflies are actually threatened in some areas where they used to be common because of all these things.

If you live in a city or a lighted suburban area, I'd encourage you to try to get out to the country at least once and experience fireflies in force in their natural habitat. And if you're in an area where fireflies are native and you are in a position to, maybe leave a little pile of wet leaves for them in a corner of the yard. Turn out the lights in summer. Refrain from spraying pesticides on your grass.

Let the little guys light up the world for another generation.

[sketchesinstillness]

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Dāҽȥ ᖇūS

only fair masterlist

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔤𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔶, 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔰: 𝔰𝔥𝔢/𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Alicent and Rhaenyra have reconciled, Y/n is pregnant and everything seems to be well...until Dāҽȥ ᖇūS - Free Child

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖗���𝖒: firefly-graphics

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 in far too long, Alicent smiled at the sight of her daughter and Rhaenyra together. She chuckled as her childhood companion made another comment over Y/n's lately unruly hair. "That happened to me too, while I was pregnant." Alicent replied softly and reached over to squeeze her child's hand. Rhaenyra and Alicent shared a long gaze which sent the prior a deep pang to her heart. Her throat bobbed. She should have been there for her...She thought quietly before standing with a sharp hit to her cup. "I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen." She said, trying to ensure the crack in her voice went unnoticed. "I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood...more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with... unfailing devotion, love, and honor." Alicent stared up at Rhaenyra with wet eyes. "And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apology." She sat back down and held her wife's warm hand. Alicent glanced around unsurely, it had been so long since either of them had even been civil to one another. "Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess." A soft sniffle left her. Her eyes still locked on Rhaenyra didn't notice the way her daughter's face gentled at the mutual kindness. "We are both mothers and we love our children." She smiled at Y/n. "We have more in common than we sometimes allow." With that she stood more confident than when her husband last acknowledged her. "I raise my cup to you and to your house. You will make a fine queen." Alicent assured. The two women, once friends, then lovers and finally brutal rivals had finally softened their blows and halted their competition. Y/n's lips mouthed a small sentiment of gratitude before she leaned her head on Rhaenyra's shoulder, Rhaenyra's fingers instantly running through her wife's hair out of reflex.

Y/n let out a snort when she saw her brother Aegon tip back his drink. He glanced over at her then wrinkled his nose with a smile at her before his eyes cast over Jace. They narrowed when he saw his content smile with Baela. He scraped back his chair and directed toward her before anyone could so much as suspect ill intent. "I, um... I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask." Almost before he could finish, Jace's hands landed hard on the table and he rose with a clenched jaw. Everyone's sights dropped on him like an avalanche, he considered all the things he could say, all the hurtful witty quips he'd had lined up since they were children but instead Jacaerys saw reason. His family was finally getting along and he wasn't going to ruin that for them even if Aegon planned to. He took a deep breath and kept recalling the images of Y/n leaning against his mother...the times she had pleaded to visit her mother and brothers to make amends, the painful supposed truths his mother uttered when she replied thinking it could never be. Aemond too stood up, eager to defend whatever slander his nephew wished to wreak. They made eye contact as Aegon sat down. Jace released first even if it caused a smirk to twitch at Aemond's mouth. He looked down at Aegon and raised his glass with a playful blow of his uncle's shoulder. "To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth." He spoke, his own shoulders trying to lessen their pace while his breathing quickened. "And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles." Everyone drank once more but Aemond didn't seem to care with the encouraging nod his sister sent their nephew. His fingers twitched. Was she betraying him to? Changing sides because it was convenient? Jace's hand connected with Aegon's shoulder again but this time squeezed in warning. Y/n's sigh of relief was all her older brother needed to hear before he relented his teasing. "To you as well." He muttered in displeasure. Aemond almost scoffed before he too sat down and clenched his fists.

And so the toasts continued with Helaena standing with a soft smile. "I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk." Y/n snapped her head to look at her sister and frowned, brows creasing. Scattered laughter greeted her sister but it didn't stop the guilt rising. Your father requested the music to restart. The tension dispersed when Jace looked down contemplatively at the table and then stood up to approach Helaena, both anxious and hopeful. He extended his hand toward her with a hopefully reassuring smile. Aegon's eyes caught Aemond's singular when she accepted. So the Blacks were taking both their sisters now. Wonderful. You watched your sibling and stepson dance together and grinned. Rhaenyra's thumb rubbed over your hand in slow calming circles before resting her other over your stomach. When your father began coughing, panic shot through, your happy expression crumbled. He assured his wellness but that didn't mean he denounced the servants Alicent called to him. They lifted and removed him. You squeezed your future wife's hand; you may not have had the best experiences with him growing up but you knew she did. She matched your gentle smile with one that wavered but with a deep breath it calmed.

You winced when your babe released a sharp kick. Rhaenyra beamed as she stared in wonder. "Alicent." She beckoned, Alicent complied and rested her own overtop your soft gown. She gasped and kneeled before you, cupping your stomach. It hurt but it was worth it to feel her sweet grandchild. Aemond's blood boiled but it only rose when a servant delivered a roasted pig. A pig. He looked up at the first start of snickering. "What will you name them?" Alicent asked you. You shared a secretive glance with your wife. "We're not sure yet but there are a few ideas. We're hoping for a girl." Alicent nodded. "It was a relief when I had Helaena and Y/n." She uttered. "There's always something special about it." Tears pricked at you and you obeyed their wish to steal your mother's hand and tug it close. Lucerys continued to chew while smirking at his uncle. Aemond's fingers twitched before clenching. Don't forget yourself, rang through his mind in repeat and for a moment he had recollected himself... You sighed and leaned your head back. Rhaenyra furrowed her brows and leaned into your ear. "Are you alright?" She asked but you merely waved her off. It didn't ease her concern. "They're like you." You chuckled. "Fierce. A warrior in no time." Alicent repeated your laughter in the way only a mother can replicate. She nodded and looked up at Rhaenyra. "The Gods may help us all." She jested, instead of taking it as a slight, Rhaenyra returned the gesture and almost forgot her wife's struggle. And then his nephew was rising with that stupid grin and approaching Y/n. "Is it kicking?" He asked jovially as he skipped. Aemond nearly growled. He couldn't hold back anymore and slammed his closed right fist on the table. It drew attention immediately.

"A Final tribute. To the health of my newphews," He remarked, cup in hand, burying the brief guilt in his chest when his sister smiled at him, her eyes full of hope. "Jace... Luke... and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise..." He looked to each one of them, determined to make as much a fool of them as he had felt that night. "strong." With the single word his mother tensed. "Aemond." She warned. He ignored her. "Come... let us drain our cups to these three... Strong boys." Y/n's hand was gripping so tight onto Rhaenyra's that she felt if she let go she would drop to the floor. She shook her head slowly. "I dare you to say that again." Jacaerys responded. They both stood glaring at one another, the tension returned. "'Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?" They both took steps closer until Jaceaerys' hand was able to connect with the side of his uncle's face. Lucerys jumped but Y/n made toward him and grasped his hand. She tugged at it even though the commotion attracted an agonised whimper. No one noticed as everyone stared at the scene before them. Her knees wobbled and her hand released her stepson's in time for Aegon to shove the boy's head roughly against the wooden table. Jacaerys made to deliver another hit but Aemond pushed him to the floor with ease. Guards rushed to the boys while Alicent sprinted to halt her son. You couldn't hear their words as your whimper turned into a whine. Your wife finally noticed and felt a spike of fear thread through her. Her warm arms collected you into them and pushed you back into your chair as soft as she could. Alicent's words were indistinguishable but that was the least of your concerns. Helaena's eyes bulged and flickered fearfully around her. "...Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs." You heard your brother declare. He didn't even look at you as your body began writhing in pain. Eventually it began to calm again with your wife's soothing words. Jace broke free but stopped when he heard you. "Stop!" You shouted plainly. His throat bobbed when he caught sight of you. "Go to your quarters." Rhaenyra ordered, rubbing your stomach. "All of you go, now." He hesitated. "Now." Aemond finally glanced at you and froze. His eye trailed your shifting figure before stepping from the room with a high pulse. You sighed in exasperation. Helaena lay a kiss to your forehead before following after her other siblings and nephews.

Alicent rubbed her forehead before reaching you both, Rhaenyra guiding you to stand. "Darling." She murmured, brushing back your hair and laying a hand to your cheek. Rhaenyra bit her lip as she watched her rub the soft skin. She cleared her throat. "I think...it's best if we go back to Dragonstone." Alicent's eyes snapped to hers. "You've only just arrived." She mourned. Rhaenyra nodded. "Let me see the children home." Rhaenyra spoke. "I'll, um... return on dragonback. You wait here." She was looking at you this time, at your teary eyes and pink nose. Your eyes flickered in thought. "Don't worry." She whispered. "I'll be back before you know it." A weak smile transported from her onto your lips. You sighed and nodded.

As you slept, you remembered a few nights prior, how easily your wife had taken to attending to your discomfort. Rhaenyra's hand had rubbed over your swollen belly in the tub and her eyes gazed lovingly in nothing short of adoration when you grunted. A short thump hit her hand. She looked down in wonder and chuckled gently. "My poor darling." She purred, kissing your stomach. "Carrying Targaryen genes are not something that brings much ease I'm afraid." You groaned as it kicked again. "My sweet girl," She murmured, reaching up to brush back your wet hair. You had been trying to enjoy a bath when the child tried to wreak havoc no doubt. Your pout propelled your wife into action, sweeping you into her arms and tugging you into her warm embrace. She didn't care that you were soaking her dress, she would prefer that than doing nothing. And so she began to dry you with calming rubs and gently massaging your shoulders. Her fingers lingered on every inch of your skin until your head threw back and she could tell your legs were wobbling. She watched you sympathetically and secured you upright in her arms. Rhaenyra soothed you with calming praise as she guided you onto the bed. She struggled to reach the nightgown at the foot of your marital bed but when your hand was gripping her so tight she refused to push you aside for even a moment. She had been on the receiving end and knew how frustrating it was to be denied your desires while in such agony. Her lips danced across your collarbone after directing the gentle material over your head. Almost immediately, your wife shifted your legs so they no longer hung over the bed and instead on top while her hands busied with fluffing your pillow. "It will be alright soon." She assured, kissing your head. "The babe will come in a few moons time and we will feel the kindness of a thousand Gods bestowed upon us in their presence." You chuckled beside her and squirmed, wriggling on the soft mattress. Rhaenyra smiled down at you, her pupils so dilated they might pop out at you in an array of love hearts.

"I think it's a girl." You blurted, rolling your hand over your stomach fondly. Rhaenyra's head snapped up to look at you, trying to hold back her hope. "I do too." She responded, taking your free hand in her own and drawing various shapes and flowers on the palm with her nails. You chuckled and sent her a squeeze of appreciation, humming when she pressed a kiss to it. "What would we name her?" You ask and she froze for a moment, eyes tracking the aspects of your face carefully. "It should be fierce." You continued, though you took note of your wife's silence. "And Valyrian, I would like to honor our ancestors." She sighed in content and then lay beside you on the bed, propping her head up on a pillow as she debated her response. "When I was a child, I fixated on my new sibling so that I would not be so scared for her labours." She announced, it confused you how carefully she treaded. Your wife had always been a bold woman, one to strike fear and admiration into her subjects alike. "When..." Her throat tightened as her eyes began blurring. She sucked in a sharp breath. "When my mother was pregnant with Baelon, I wanted a sister. I wanted to call her Visenya." Your face turned to look at and instead of discomfort, you grew a fond smile and tilted her face to meet yours with a warm hand. "Our child will be more beautiful than the sun, dear wife." You declared, rubbing a circle over her skin. She broke out a chuckle. "I hope you mean yourself, eglie ābrazȳrys." She japed, leading your eyes to roll back the stars she swore she saw in them. (Good wife) "Perhaps I mean both of them." Rhaenyra leant forward to place a long devoted kiss to your lips. "I hope for a girl." Rhaenyra sighed against your lips. "I hope that she will have your spitting image, your laugh, your trickery and–" "Are you mocking me? You said you loved my trickery." You gasped in false offence while your wife laughed. "Of course I love it, my dear." She stroked at your hair. "More than I can fathom."

The next morning you awoke to an empty bed, sending a piercing rush of panic to sweep over your heart until the sound of doors opening sent your head turning to see your wife. You sighed in relief as a series of servants followed behind her with a feast of food. "I thought we could do with a hearty meal before the boys come to bother you." You breathed out a laugh at her quip as she settled just below your leg and summoned one of the trays laden with strawberries, fruits and other foods perhaps more suitable for a banquet than a breakfast. You didn't comment however and dined happily, you hardly noticed Rhaenyra's inquisitive stare at your stomach. She suddenly frowned. "She isn't giving you much trouble is she? I hear I was a nightmare to my mother and of course neither were the boys calm." The corners of your lips twitched and you shook your head. "Not yet but the reckoning soon begins." You murmured as you fed both yourself and your child. She sighs and rubs your back gently. "Then I am assuming the sickness has not stopped my love?" You shook your head then leaned against her body, her arm closest to you weaving itself across your shoulders. A jolt however shot through you as your chamber doors were thrown open, both your own and your wife's eyes snapping up to find the cause of such loud noise...

The promise of "I love you." never left your ears when the sound of a door interrupted your peace. You groaned and spread your arm to the other side of the bed, prepared to awaken your wife for her duties. Instead there was a cold emptiness. You looked up, hopeful for the same scene as your thoughts reminded you but instead you found your mother's soft face and warm disposition. You could tell she was trying not to look frantic but assumed it was due to the matter of last night. Your lips turned upward at her which prompted her presence to sit upon your bed. Her fingers played with the bedding sheet and she bit her lip painfully. "My sweet girl." She murmured, reaching to rub the skin of your cheek. She took a shallow breath. In the timespan of a breath, she embraced you into her arms, her fingers entwining into your hair and rolling it subconsciously through her fingers. "My sweet girl." She repeated, aware of the doom she was beginning...

Taglist:

@evattude @missclove @arielj @thatkinkylesgirl1 @alicentswhore @darkened-writer @lexiegogo @watercolorskyy

[skyward-floored]

Fireflies

I put this on ao3 a week or two ago, and I'm finally putting it on here since I have a minute. Please enjoy Twilight being a mess and Wild doing some comforting for a change :)

Ao3

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

“Hey Rancher, are you... okay?”

Twilight blinked at the question, and nodded when Wild caught his eye, looking at him just long enough not to rouse suspicion.

“Fine. Why do you ask?” he replied in a warm voice, ignoring the deep ache in his chest that had decided to appear today.

He was usually pretty good at ignoring it when it surfaced, and even better at hiding it from others. Nobody knew about the thoughts that swirled around in his head on days like these, or the numbness that sank in, and that was exactly the way he wanted it.

Everyone had their own problems, they didn’t need his too.

Wild hesitated a moment when Twilight didn’t say anything further, then sat down next to him, just far enough away to give him plenty of space.

“I don’t know. You’ve just seemed a little... distant, lately I guess. For a few days now,” he said, and Twilight felt the feeling in his chest get heavier, dread making his throat tight.

Someone had noticed.

“I just wanted to see if you were feeling okay,” Wild shrugged as he looked at Twilight. He absently picked up a pebble when Twilight didn’t immediately respond, then tossed it into the stream in front of them, sending up a small splash.

“I’m fine, Champion,” Twilight assured, tucking his arms in so Wild wouldn’t see them shake. Perfectly fine. Just like always.

Wild didn’t respond.

The stream in front of them rushed quietly across the rocks as the evening grew darker. A firefly drifted past, and Twilight held out a hand, encouraging it to land on his finger. The bug flew out of his reach though, and Twilight sighed, watching as it drifted across the stream to join more of its kind.

A sharper ache clenched in his chest, hollow and deep, and Twilight closed his eyes.

He didn’t even know what was wrong, not exactly. This just... happened sometimes. An empty hollow in his stomach.

He woke up knowing it going to be one of those days where he’d have to act like he didn’t want to just lie somewhere and be left alone. He’d laughed at Wind’s jokes and he’d teased Warriors along with Legend and kept up with how he normally acted perfectly, up until he’d slipped away from camp to finally have some alone time, and Wild had somehow picked up on it.

Nobody had ever noticed before.

He glanced over at his friend, Wild having managed to catch a firefly that was now crawling along his hand. It blinked a few times, and then spread its wings again, the little spot of light soon lost among the others.

“Wild?” he suddenly found himself saying. The champion looked over at him when he spoke, tilting his head to show he was listening. “Did... do you ever... w...”

Twilight’s throat suddenly closed up, and he swallowed and looked away, the ache increasing.

Wild waited in silence for him to continue, but when Twilight didn’t reply, he glanced over at him with a worried look in his eyes.

“Ever..?” he prompted softly, and Twilight just shook his head, throat aching.

“Never mind,” he said, the words little more than a whisper.

He has his own problems, don’t add to them by getting him worried about you, your struggles are so small compared to his and you don’t deserve—

A hand rested over his, and Twilight breathed in shakily, trying to just sink back into the numb feeling he’d been half drifting in all day.

“Twilight,” Wild said quietly.

Twilight kept his gaze firmly on the stream in front of them, head tilted away from Wild. He knew if he looked over at him he would lose control of the situation, more than he already had, and the overwhelming urge to just get away suddenly hit him, turn into a wolf and get away from the scrutiny and questions and—

“Twilight,” Wild repeated, and the urge faded, but Twilight still didn’t look at him.

Wild moved his hand so it was actually in Twilight’s, and squeezed it, warm and bracing.

“You can talk to me, you know?” he whispered. “Or... if not, I just...”

Twilight still couldn’t look at him.

He heard Wild breathe in, and then his hand let go of Twilight’s, leaves crinkling as he repositioned himself. Twilight swallowed at the loss of the touch, his throat so tight he didn’t know if he’d ever say anything, the ache so deep and hollow he didn’t know what to do with it and then—

Then Wild put both his arms around him, tugging him into a hug.

Twilight breathed out, the sound horribly shaky, and as his eyes stung, Wild squeezed him, letting Twilight’s head rest on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” The champion asked in a whisper, and Twilight nodded, his breath only getting shakier as Wild hugged him in a warm embrace.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the ache in his chest shifting and hurting with every tear he forcibly held back. A few escaped anyway, but Twilight ignored them, trying to calm down, trying not to break.

Wild set a hand on the back of his head, slightly awkward, but full of sincere concern, and Twilight leaned into it, a small sob finally escaping his throat.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he managed to choke out into Wild’s shoulder, and the champion squeezed him even tighter, not saying anything.

Twilight choked on another sob, and suddenly he couldn’t hold his tears back any more, even though he tried to with all of his might. Wild didn’t need this, he didn’t need one more thing to worry about. Twilight was the responsible one, he helped fix issues, he didn’t cause them.

He didn’t want to put more weight on Wild’s shoulders, not now, not ever.

Yet here he was.

“It’s okay, Link,” Wild said in a whispered voice, lightly rubbing his back. “I’ve got you Twi, it’s okay.”

“B-but I...” Twilight croaked, mortified at how weak it sounded. “I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to be sorry Twi. Just let it out,” Wild said gently, patting his head. “I’ll be here. Just like what you do for me.”

Twilight felt a flicker of warmth, thinking of how he was usually the one doing the comforting, and how Wild was now doing the same for him. It felt... nice.

But then another wave of guilt crashed through him, and he shut his eyes, stubbornly willing away the tears still slipping down his nose. He couldn’t let it out. Not all of it, anyway. Not now.

Maybe not ever.

But Wild kept hugging him, and Twilight swallowed, letting himself sink a little more into his embrace. He wasn’t going to burden Wild with this, wasn’t going to pile on his own problems on top of his, but... but he would let himself be hugged.

He tightened his hold and felt Wild do the same, and the champion held him as he shook in his arms, just like he’d done for him so many times.

[minarixx]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟏 ✯ 𝐒.𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐚

"𝙄 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙'𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙"

PAIRING. Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

CONTENT. Angst, unrequited love, childhood friends to NOT lovers el oh el

Two childhood friends, Kita and Y/N and their complexities of unspoken feelings and missed opportunities.

WC. 3.1k

A/N. My new longest one shot. This one is alright they are getting a bit repetitive sorry guys but I'm still not making part 2s. I feel like making Y/N end up with the love interest's friend is kind of cliche and boring and I don't like happy endings my b.

Masterlink - Songs Unwritten

In the picturesque prefecture of Hyogo, two grandmothers, Mrs. L/N and Mrs. Kita were close friends on neighboring farms. They had shared countless memories together, and now, they were excitedly awaiting the arrival of their first grandchildren.

On a blissful summer afternoon, the sun beamed down from the azure sky, casting a warm and golden glow over the world below. The gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass, and the distant chirping of birds provided a delightful background symphony. 

Mrs. L/N and Mrs. Kita settled on the swings, the sturdy ropes creaking on the wood softly as they rocked back and forth. The swings seemed to dance in the sunlight, casting playful shadows on the ground below. Their laughter echoed through the air as they pushed off the ground, swinging higher and higher with each stroke of their legs.

"Oh, Margaret," Mrs. Kita said with a twinkle in her eye, "I can't believe we're going to be grandmothers! I just know our little ones are going to be the best of friends, just like us."

Mrs. L/N nodded with a warm smile. "Absolutely, Yumie. I couldn't agree more. It warms my heart to think about the adventures they'll have together."

As fate would have it, Kita and Y/N were born just days apart, and their grandmothers couldn't have been happier. From their hospital beds, Mrs. Kita and Mrs. L/N exchanged joyful phone calls, sharing the exciting news of the arrival of their grandchildren.

As the years passed, the two grandmothers lived up to their prediction. Kita and Y/N grew up side by side, their grandmothers often arranging playdates for them.

“They're like two peas in a pod, aren't they?"

Mrs. L/N nodded, a knowing smile on her face. "Indeed, they are, Margaret. I believe they share a special bond that will last a lifetime."

The grandmothers exchanged a glance, and Mrs. Kita decided to broach the subject delicately. "You know, I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll grow up to be more than just friends."

Mrs. L/N's eyes widened with surprise, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips. "Oh, Yumie, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

They both shared a laugh, realizing they were on the same page. With a twinkle in her eye, Mrs. Kita said, "Perhaps we should encourage their friendship, and who knows, one day, they might discover something more."

From the earliest years, they were inseparable, their laughter echoing through the streets as they explored the world together. During warm summer nights, they chased fireflies, their hearts brimming with dreams of thrilling adventures.

Time flew by, and Kita and Y/N's friendship blossomed. They shared secrets, laughed, and supported each other through ups and downs, just like their grandmothers had hoped.

Little did they know that the innocent bond they forged in their early years would lay the foundation for something deeper and more profound—a love that would one day become the heart of their story.

Their connection deepened, transcending the boundaries of friendship. Unbeknownst to each other, both Kita and Y/N began to harbor feelings that went far beyond mere companionship. Yet, they were afraid to speak their hearts' desires, fearing that such revelations might jeopardize the cherished friendship they held dear.

Years rolled on, and although they remained as close as ever, a shift occurred when Kita started seeing someone else and Y/N got a job offer in the city, reaching adulthood was what had happened. It was as if an invisible thread linked their hearts, but neither dared to tug at it, lest everything unravel.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N and Atsumu strolled through the park, their laughter filling the air as they enjoyed the warmth of the day.

"So, have you heard from Kita lately?" Atsumu asked, casually.

Y/N's face lit up with a soft smile. "Yeah, we texted yesterday. He was telling me about his plans for the weekend."

Atsumu hesitated for a moment before speaking cautiously, "You know, there's something I heard from someone... I don't know if I should say it."

Curiosity tinged with worry sparked in Y/N's eyes. "What is it, Tsumu? You can tell me."

Taking a deep breath, Atsumu gently revealed, "I heard from Aran that Kita's going to announce got engaged last weekend."

Y/N's heart sank, her smile fading away. "Engagement? But he didn't mention anything to me..." Her voice trailed off, disappointment and hurt evident in her eyes.

Atsumu placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, it's okay," Y/N replied, trying to regain her composure. "I just... I always thought we were so close that we shared everything with each other."

Atsumu nodded empathetically. "I know, and maybe he just hasn't found the right moment to tell you yet."

But the seed of doubt had already been planted in Y/N's mind. She couldn't help but wonder why Kita hadn't shared this significant event in his life with her. Did he not trust her enough to confide in her? Or had he intentionally kept her in the dark?

Y/N sat on her favorite cozy spot on the couch, nervously tapping her phone on her thigh. Her heart raced with anticipation as she waited for that one text she had been hoping for all day.

The sun was slowly setting, casting a warm glow through the window and painting the room in hues of orange and gold. Y/N glanced at her phone every few seconds, checking for any new notifications. Finally, the familiar chime of a text message broke the silence.

Her heart skipped a beat as she unlocked her phone and read the message from Kita

Kita >"Hey Y/N, let's meet up for coffee."

As Kita and Y/N sat in the old coffee shop by the tranquil lake, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the comforting scent of aged wood filled the atmosphere. 

“You know, Y/N," he said, breaking the comfortable silence, "I remember the first time we came here together. We were just kids, barely able to drink coffee."

Y/N chuckled, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "Yeah, I remember that day too. I ended up spilling so much coffee on the table but you helped me clean it up."

"It's what friends do, right?" Kita replied, smiling warmly at her.

"Right," Y/N said, her gaze turning thoughtful. "Kita, you've always been there for me, through thick and thin. I don't know what I would do without you."

Kita's heart swelled with affection, and he reached out to gently squeeze her hand. "And you've always been there for me, too, Y/N. You're like the missing piece in my life puzzle."

Y/N blushed, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "That's so cheesy, Kita."

"I mean it," he said, looking into her eyes. "You've been my rock, my confidante, my partner in crime. I feel like I can be myself completely when I'm with you."

"You can, Kita," Y/N assured him, her voice soft and reassuring. "You've always been yourself with me, and that's one of the things I love most about our friendship."

Kita's heart skipped a beat at her words, but he quickly brushed the thought aside, not wanting to ruin the moment by revealing his hidden feelings.

They continued talking, reminiscing about their countless adventures, sharing dreams and aspirations, and laughing at inside jokes that only they understood. The depth of their bond was evident in every word they exchanged, in the way they leaned on each other for support and found comfort in one another's presence.

"Life is going to change a lot soon," Y/N said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "You're getting engaged." Kita’s eyes widened not realizing she had found out so soon. 

"I wanted to explain," Kita began, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I know it must have hurt to find out about my engagement like that, and I'm truly sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Y/N's defenses were still up, but she listened, her heart yearning for answers. "Why didn't you tell me, Kita? We've always been so honest with each other."

Kita sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m not sure, there were a lot of things on my mind with preparations and wedding planning, you understand right?"

Y/N felt a mix of emotions wash over her – hurt, understanding, and regret. "I wish you had trusted me enough and remembered to share this with me."

"I do. Things won't be the same, but I know we'll always have this, right here."

Y/N turned to him. "Right here," she echoed, her voice cracking with emotion.

They sat there in silence, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Little did they know that this night, under the starlit sky, would be etched into their memories forever.

As the evening wore on, Y/N grappled with her feelings, unsure of what to do next. She longed to confess her own hidden emotions to Kita, but the fear of being a home wrecker was large but losing him as a friend was larger.

Days passed, the buzz of excitement spread throughout the town as the news of Kita's engagement became official. Invitations to the engagement party were sent out, leaving everyone eagerly anticipating the celebration.

Y/N stood in front of her mailbox, her heart pounding with anticipation, as she anxiously waited for her mail to arrive. Her mind was filled with a mix of emotions, unsure of how to feel about attending the party celebrating Kita's engagement. Part of her was happy for him, wanting to support him in this new chapter of his life, but another part of her couldn't shake the lingering sadness and regret.

Finally, the mail arrived, and Y/N found herself holding the coveted invitation in her hands. She took a deep breath and opened it, revealing the elegant card adorned with intricate designs. The words "Kita and Runa’s Engagement Celebration" were written in beautiful calligraphy.

Her heart sank a little as she read Runa's name, realizing that the woman who held Kita's heart was someone she barely knew. Y/N heard Kita mention her multiple times, and the realization stung, making her feel like a distant observer in his life. 

She remembered the day where he introduced Runa to her. As they sat in the fields of Kita’s grandma's farm.

As weeks went by after the introduction, Y/N observed Kita and Runa's relationship blossom. They seemed genuinely happy together, and Y/N couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry they shared. Still, she told herself it was just one of those puppy love flings, convinced that their relationship wouldn't last.

But as months turned into years, Kita and Runa's bond remained steadfast. Y/N watched from the sidelines as Kita and Runa's love deepened. She remained a loyal friend, cheering them on and supporting their relationship, even though it pained her to do so.

Soon, Y/N was going to witness Kita and Runa's love taking a new form at the engagement party. Her heart ached with a mixture of emotions. 

As the engagement party date drew closer, Y/N wrestled with her emotions. She knew she couldn't let her feelings dictate her actions, but attending the celebration felt bittersweet. She wanted to be there for childhood friend, but she also feared the pain it might bring to witness him committing to someone else.

Arriving at the venue, Y/N was greeted with warmth and excitement from other guests. She smiled and engaged in conversations, trying to push her personal feelings aside.

The occasion was joyous, yet both Kita and Y/N felt an underlying melancholy. Amidst the laughter and congratulatory toasts, Kita found solace in the bottom of a glass, the bitter taste of whiskey easing his nerves.

In the midst of the celebration, Kita and Y/N found themselves alone in a quiet corner. The dim lights cast soft shadows upon their faces, and the familiarity of each other's presence comforted them. As the night wore on, the alcohol loosened Kita's tongue, and the words he had suppressed for so long came tumbling out.

As she made her way into the bar section of the venue, her eyes found Kita, looking dapper in his suit and a nervous smile playing on his lips. He saw her too, and for a brief moment, their eyes met, conveying a depth of unspoken emotions.

"Y/N, there you are."

She turned to find Kita standing before her, looking both nervous and apologetic. His engagement ring was clearly visible on his finger, a symbol of the new chapter in his life.

"I've been looking for you," Kita said softly. 

"Kita, you rarely drink and you reek of alcohol."

"Y/N," he said, his voice a little shaky, "I need to tell you som'shin."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, noticing the uncharacteristic vulnerability in Kita's eyes. "What is it?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

Kita took a deep breath, the alcohol making the task of expressing his feelings even more challenging. "I've lo'ed you for so long, Y/N," he confessed, stumbling slightly over his words. "But I never said anythin' 'cause I was afraid of losin' you. I thought it was betta to keep my feelin's hidden and cher-ish our friendship. I needed to say tis before I got married."

A tear escaped Y/N's eye as she listened intently, realizing the weight of Kita's slurred confession. "Oh, Kita," she whispered, her own emotions starting to surface. "I never knew… I never realized…"

"It's alrigh'," Kita interrupted, offering a bittersweet smile. "I've moved on, and I'm genuinely happy for you if you find someone else. I jus' wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

As the words lingered in the air, the full weight of Kita's unspoken love settled upon them. Y/N's heart filled with both sadness and regret, wishing she could have recognized his feelings sooner.

"I'm sorry, Kita," she said softly, her voice quivering. "I wish I had said something sooner.."

As the night continued, they stood there, two childhood friends, each holding onto their unspoken desires. The alcohol might have emboldened Kita to share his feelings, but it couldn't erase the years of silence that had passed between them.

The morning after the engagement party, Y/N woke up with a heavy heart. The weight of Kita's drunken confession still lingered in her mind, the memory etched into her soul. However, as she contemplated the events of the previous night, she couldn't help but notice something unsettling.

Kita, in his intoxicated state, had poured his heart out to her, confessing his long-standing love for her. Yet, when she met up with him at the cafe, it was as if that vulnerable confession had never happened. He was his usual cheerful self, talking about the wedding plans and how excited he was for this new chapter in his life.

Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of confusion and sadness. Had he forgotten what he had said? Did he truly not remember his own confession of love?

As the days went by, Y/N found herself in a state of emotional turmoil. On one hand, she cherished the memories of their close friendship and the unspoken love between them. On the other hand, she carried the burden of knowing his true feelings while he seemed to be moving forward without a care in the world.

Unable to bear the weight of her emotions any longer, Y/N sought comfort in a late-night conversation with Atsumu.

"I just don't understand, Tsumu," Y/N confided, her voice shaking with emotion. "He confessed his love for me that night, and now, it's like he's completely forgotten about it."

Atsumu listened attentively, offering a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes, people say things they don't fully remember when they're drunk. Maybe Kita wasn't ready to face his feelings, and his mind chose to forget."

"But how can he forget something like that?" Y/N exclaimed, tears glistening in her eyes. "It was such a vulnerable moment for him, and now it's like it never happened."

Atsumu hugged his friend tightly, understanding the pain she was going through. "I know it's hard, Y/N, but sometimes we can't control how others feel or what they remember. All you can do now is find a way to heal and move forward."

The days turned into weeks, and Y/N did her best to keep her composure while the wedding preparations were in full swing. She attended bridal showers, smiled through fitting sessions, and participated in the joyous festivities. But each step towards Kita's marriage was a reminder of the unspoken love that still lived in her heart.

On the day of the wedding, Y/N stood amongst the guests, her eyes fixated on the altar where Kita and Runa exchanged their vows. She felt a mix of conflicting emotions – happiness for Kita and the life he was building with someone he loved, but also an overwhelming sadness at the thought of what could have been.

The burden of carrying the secret of Kita's confession weighed heavily on Y/N's shoulders. She knew she had to be strong for her friend, even though it meant sacrificing her own feelings. And as she watched them exchange rings and declare their love she couldn’t help but let out a few tears.

The celebration continued and Y/N knew that she would forever hold a special place in her heart for Kita, a place reserved for the boy who had been her confidante, her partner in crime, and her unspoken love. And as she watched Kita and Runa share their first dance as an engaged couple, Y/N made a silent vow to cherish their friendship and find her own happiness in the world.

She knew that their paths were now diverging, but the memories of their cherished friendship would forever be a part of her, reminding her of the unspoken love that once filled her heart during her life. 

 The unspoken love that would forever remain a part of her story, even as she embraced a future that led her to find her own happiness and fulfillment.

©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.

[aroace-poly-show]

Hi you said you want to ramble, could you ramble some more about hollow ☆ wonderland i tried looking through your blog but search is. not working. so i failed to find anything at all

HEHEHEHEHH OF COURSE!!! and the reason for that is probably bc i haven’t posted very many details about them!! most of my rambles have been contained to dms with two of my friends and a currently 2.4k word doc of word and idea vomit 👍

anything posted before the most recent ask hasn’t been tagged correctly either, iirc i had a brief summary of the group a while ago though, tagged with “nightcord wxs” i think?? cause i didn’t have a name for them yet at the time. not changing it cause i’ve figured out more stuff since then so it’s sort of outdated. there’s probably a few posts lost in the marlo’s stuff tag, though that i didn’t tag properly but it’s okay those rambles are probably somewhere in my google doc.

anyway, since you didn’t rlly specify something in particular i’m probably just gonna ramble about whatever comes to mind. once again under the cut cause i can tell this is probably gonna get a bit long:

hollow ☆ wonderland is an online music group, and their videos are like kikuo style ones. but not necessarily ones like you are a useless child and aishite, more ones like and then you became the moon, welcome to the star inn, don’t look at me in that way, etc. pretty cutesy and happy sounding with a cute art style and then the lyrics tell a pretty dark story. that’s their general vibe. there’s a few songs i associate with them like judas by abuse (like i mentioned before) but i can’t confidently say it’s the kind of music they’d make. maybe that’ll change though we’ll see.

the group is composed of hoshi (tsukasa) the main lyricist, koki (emu), the artist, tako (rui) the animator and eventual co-lyricist, and kurage (nene), the composer.

they’re all silly online friends who like making music videos together and while none of them really talk about their issues pre-main story given that they’re not super close/don’t know each other super well yet, they still enjoy doing this together and care at least a little bit about each other.

i’m still figuring out how exactly the main story goes, but i’ve definitely made more progress now so HOPEFULLY i figure out a coherent story soon. i rlly do want to write a fic for them but don’t get your hopes up too much.

a few basic ideas i do have currently are some stuff like tsukasa, despite also being on his last hopes like the rest of them, is going to be the one to really encourage them all to start theater again. their sekai is a rundown theme park with lots of fireflies around, all the plushies are still there but they’re also worn down and have lots of patches and stuff on them. wonder stage has been closed down already, but it hasn’t been like torn down or replaced with a new attraction or anything. will it make a comeback? will hw be using it? we will see :)

i think the world hasn’t even started yet is still gonna be their untitled too. i’m thinking for their unit fits it’s gonna be something similar to the circus jester set cards? or at least the face paint thing. i’m absolutely giving them the face paint thing. and then there’s some other plot ideas i have but i’m not totally sure about them yet and i dunno how much sense they make on their own so i’m not gonna add them here.

uh. tsukasas name is hoshi since it means star iirc? so obviously he gets that name. koki meant something like to glitter, to shine, and i think emu would have liked that enough to choose it. and i already mentioned why rui and nenes names are what they are 👍

that is all for now. once again i’m more than happy to answer any other questions (like seriously i was so giddy and happy getting asked about them) so yknow feel free to ask. might answer a bit late cause i’m in school atm and have a lot to say but i will answer it eventually :3

[ellies-little-thing]

Life goes on (e.w.) part 5

*not my images, but i edited them

My masterlist <3

pairing: ellie williams / fem!reader

Warnings: fluf; reader is referred to as she/her; mentions of trauma; angst; mentions of violence, homofobia, killing, death; ptsd; Kind of proofread, English is not my first language.

Author's notes: Hi! This was a request but im having a blast writing it! I hope you like it, I really liked writing it! Feedback is always welcome and likes and reblogs are always encouraged! Thank you! Enjoy!  This is the last part of this series. I hope you liked it!

word count: 1.1k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

18 years old - Part 5

One year later you were still together as an official couple. You've never felt so happy. And neither did Ellie. She wasn't alone anymore. You started to sleep at her place most nights and spend most of your time together. You would never be away from her again. Nothing could break you apart.

Ellie started to paint canvases and you were still her favorite subject. You had found a stray cat one day and you both decided to adopt her. You gave her the name Laika. The same name of the first dog to go to space and come back alive since Ellie loved space so much. You loved the name and she used to always get into your lap when you were reading. It was really cute actually. She always purred when she was with you, but she liked to sleep with Ellie. She always cuddled her before falling asleep every night. 

Life was beautiful with Ellie by your side. Everything felt easier somehow and she was always there for you even in your worst moments. Your father didn't accept that you were queer and had a really nasty argument with you about it and about Ellie. Your mother tried to reason with him but there was nothing she could do. Your mother grew to like Ellie very much and supported your relationship, but you didn't feel comfortable in your house anymore. Ellie never left your side and was there when you came out to your parents holding your hand. She defended you like any good partner would. You were grateful for her. 

You did all sorts of things together. Went for hikes, went hunting together, went to all the movie nights in town and Ellie was able to become friends with Dina and Jesse eventually too. You went out on double dates a lot of times together, the four of you. You were happy. Happier than you had ever been. Ellie never felt alone or unwanted. You were there for her during the good and bad times.

She told you she was immune and why she didn't talk to Joel anymore. At first you didn't believe her but one day you saw her breathing in spores and you couldn't believe your eyes. Eventually she told you everything. All the things she had done before coming to Jacson for good and you just held her as she cried. You never once judged her, never once thought badly of her or her actions. Now you understood why she was the way she was, and it all finally made sense. Ellie felt so light after telling you everything. She never wanted to hide anything from you ever again.

Ellie had never told these things to anyone before. But to you, she told you everything. From her days in the Boston Q.Z. where she grew up as an orphan; and how she got bit with Reiley; the Fireflies; Joel and Tess; all the nasty things she had to do through their journey to Wyoming; the man she had to kill because of the unspeakable things he wanted to do to her, while Joel was sick and she had to take care of him through the winter, she thought he wouldn't make it, but he did; all the people Joel killed in the hospital; all the close calls she had with infected; all the trauma she had made sense now. All her fears, you finally understood them. 

You loved her. All of her. Good and bad. Some days she felt like she didn't deserve you, but you stayed with her through all her hard times just like she stayed for yours. You felt like you were soulmates. You never wanted to not have her by your side. You couldn't imagine your life without her anymore.

You lived your days calmly and enjoyed life together. Some folk in town didn't like the two of you two being together but they were afraid of Ellie after one tried to hurt you and she intervened. She missed Joel very much but wasn't able to forgive him. At least not yet. She wrote a lot of songs, some for you, some for her, mostly to stop thinking of the bad things. To keep her demons away.

She had constant nightmares but you held her all night long if she needed you to. She wasn't the best cook in the world but enjoyed helping you in the kitchen and stealing some kisses here and there. Life wasnt perfect but with Ellie by your side it was so much better. She started patrols before you and was almost all she did because of her skills. You liked teaching the kids and were training to be a teacher. You tended to her wounds when she returned from patrol, she always told you you didn't need to but you helped her anyway. 

Some days her PTSD was so bad that she would dissociate completely from her body and you would take care of her. Make sure she ate, and that she slept. You even gave her baths when she couldn't do it herself. She was so grateful to have you. She had never known so much kindness was possible in such a world.

One day you and her were on patrol together, as you pass by the abandoned town Where you found that comic book all those years ago. As you saw the bench where you read it together. You get off of your horse, Gem., you walk up to it and sit down looking at the view. Ellie stops and looks at you as she realizes where you were, and gets off of her horse Shimmer as well ,and sits next to you. As she sits she holds your hand. “It's been a long time since we were here last, hum..” She says in a sweet and soft voice. “It really has…” You say as you lean your head on Ellie’s shoulder. You admire the view over the valley together for a few minutes. Then Ellie gets an idea. She takes her switchblade out of her pocket and walks up to the tree on the right of the bench you were sitting on. She craves yours and her initials inside a heart. “There.” She smiles as she finishes and admires her work. You get up and walk to her. “What's that for?” You ask her sweetly as you smile. “So the world never forgets about us. Our love shall never be forgotten.” She says as she hugs you. “I love you so much, Ells.” You say to her as you're still hugging. “And I love you Y/N, more than anything.” She looks into your eyes and kisses you gently as she smiles slightly. You kiss her back, getting on the tips of your toes to reach her. You then sat down and watched the sunset together. Everything was alright in the world as long as you have each other.