#escaping the things she didn't like about herself by pushing them aside to make space for her bestie

[falderaletcetera]

it took me so long to get over my annoyance with that well-intentioned "letting things go" bit in the star beast that I'm still processing that the donna of before could never have just relinquished the metacrisis - even assuming there was some trick to it that she and rose only figured out much later - but now, now that she's got a good husband, a better relationship with her mother, a daughter of her own who she loves fiercely, a life of her own that doesn't leave her as disillusioned with the world as she used to be, now she can let go of that part of the doctor that he never meant for her to have. now she can happily admit that she'd rather live as donna noble than risk complete self-annihilation as the doctordonna. and that's… that's a lot, actually.

[kalopsiawasteland]

“I LAUGHED AT THE WRONG TIME - SAT WITH THE WRONG GUY - SEARCHIN' "HOW TO START A CONVERSATION?" ON A WEBSITE”

INTRODUCING…

NAME: Roxana 'Roxie' Mage Diaz

GENDER & PREFERRED PRONOUNS: Cis woman (She/Her)

AGE: 21

BIRTHDAY: February 14, 2003

ZODIAC: Aquarius Sun, Leo Rising, Pisces Moon

SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Bisexual / Biromantic

FACE CLAIM: Olivia Rodrigo

OCCUPATION: Singer/Songwriter/Actress

HOMETOWN: Coachella Valley, CA

CURRENT RESIDENCE: The Cove, Cape May, NJ

CHARACTER PLAYLIST: HERE.

UP NEXT: “BALLAD OF A HOMESCHOOLED GIRL” BY OLIVIA RODRIGO ROXIE DIAZ

BIOGRAPHY: tw dysfunctional family

Roxana was born and raised in a middle class home on the outskirts of Coachella Valley. With a mother who worked as an online assistant and a father who was a marriage and family therapist, there was never a lack of attention for any of the Diaz kids. If anything, their family dynamics were uberly healthy. So healthy, that it posed as an annoyance to Roxie who felt that dilemmas were pushed aside rather than addressed head-on and fixed. This feeling and viewpoint hadn't come around until her teen years, though whenever she attempted to bring it up - it was swept under the rug. Though there were these vastly differentiating views within the household, it didn't lead to any outward rebellion from Roxana. She loved her parents, even if their marriage that once was viewed so perfect was slowly coming undone in front of Roxie's eyes. Seeing that she was homeschooled, Roxana didn't really spend much time with other kids other than her siblings. This didn't necessarily upset her, seeing that it helped her mother out in the long run with all these kids running amuck in the house. Though chaos was the norm due to the amount of people in such a small space, Roxana always found herself clinging to her laptop and watching musicals as a way to disconnect from the hectic day-to-day of the Diaz household. Her favorite accessory her earbuds that she sported in order to drown out everything around her and escape. Roxana messing with Garage Band on her apps was one thing, but when she posted her silly little teenage angst songs on Tumblr, she wasn't expecting a following. Though she only has two albums out at this point (Olivia Rodrigo's discography), Roxie has around 3.2 million listeners on Spotify and has a cult following. She hadn't even attempted to move to LA, hunkering down in Cape May as a way of defiance and to drive a wedge between her and the limelight that seems to be slowly creeping up on her. Barely even having a taste of it, Roxie is torn; the pressure is already enough to make her shut down completely, but she can't shake this feeling that she was born to pour her heart out into a mic.

EXTRA-EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT HER!

Roxana is her father's daughter, if she likes it or not. Always overstepping when it comes to helping others and their problems a complete parallel to how her father reacts to her mom. Roxie is a romantic and tends to fall in love at the drop of a hat. Very water sign of her, but she romanticizes people and when they show their faults, she scrambles to fix them and that's when shit hits the fan. To this day, she knows she hasn't truly been in love, but she yearns for that fairytale type of romance; even if that expectation is only setting her up for failure. Roxana loves Y2K fashion as well as vintage pieces that she can throw together with a pair of chunky boots. Her fashion is her saving grace in her mind, seeing that she feels she doesn't get along with most people. Maybe it's the fact she is more of an introvert, maybe it's because she was homeschooled and that made her awkward - who knows (it's both). Roxana is beyond creative and once the inspiration hits, it's hard to turn it off. She's very talented through the ways of guitar and piano, and she's self-taught along with some fundamentals from her dad on the guitar front. Roxie tends to strive to make connections with people, but struggles in how to formulate strong bonds. The worry that people could be using her is also now another factor into her deficient social skills. Though, her awkwardness tends to give her an air of comedic timing to her being. She loves a good book, thrifting and attending hole-in-the-wall concerts. Roxie tends to try to blend into the background at events due to her lack of social skills, but attention seems to find her no matter what. She also doesn't help herself, seeing that she feels emotions so intensely and tends to be dramatic. She can't keep a secret to save herself. She's vulnerable, raw, real on the flip side of it. If you were to manage to maintain a good friendship with Roxie, she's always one to answer her phone at any hour. She'd also drop everything to be there for you in a heartbeat. Just a spicy Pisces who can't flirt.

PERSONALITY:

+ Creative, Loyal, and Romantic

- Melodramatic, Awkward, and Introverted

[nicocastillo]

·✥·

“I know,” he replied, chuckling. It was wishful thinking, but he didn't want to admit that aloud, not in this moment. Neither of them could really go anywhere, not with the Catalyst at their door, and his responsibilities to the pack holding him in place. But just right now, just while they were alone, he could banish the serious and frightening parts of their reality. He arched a playful eyebrow at her. “Sorry, I forgot the before first date rule book. Planning to run off to Europe is what, third date at least? I'll try to play it cool until then.” His voice dropped and he leaned in to trail slow, teasing kisses along her jaw and then catching the warm side of her neck as he spoke, immediately failing to play anything cool. “But if I wasn't sticking to the rules, Greece sounds nice. Sunsets on the beach… swimming in the Mediterranean… Austria has mountains too, doesn't it?” He was smiling against her mouth as he captured it in another leisurely kiss, like they had all the time in the world. “Love a good mountain.”

His head was buzzing softly, and his entire body felt warm, but as she hesitated on her idea he shook his head. “It's a great thought," he said, softly. ”But you can always change your mind, if it doesn't feel right.“ He only had an outsider's perspective on dealing with the dead, aside from the night of Halloween. And occasionally helping Rohan find remnants of memories in the woods, for the local spirits that Jasmine was describing. ”I think you'll find where you fit.“ The deep blush on her cheeks made him feel soft and warm. She might be embarrassed, but he was completely unashamed, and proud of her for going after something for herself. His grin widened, feeling buoyed up by happiness, conviction filling his voice. "Lunar Cove should be so lucky, to have the one and only Jasmine St. Claire choosing to stay," he said. Ridiculous, a little cheesy on purpose—but underneath that, he knew he wasn’t really talking about the town. He stayed grinning even as he groaned a little in exasperation, and the tips of his ears grew hot. “Not exactly. Teen Wolf lied—the reality wasn’t very cool. I was a kid with too much hair, always breaking things, losing my homework, getting detention. More of a problem than a popular kid.” He pushed closer, losing some of the teasing from his voice, but not all of it. “But I think if I’d known you then, I would’ve spent a lot of time trying to show off when you were around. If I remember it right, I still managed to be pretty intimidated by you when we first met.” The smirk faded, an ache opening in his chest, amusement replaced with a breathless want that was so strong it was almost unbearable. He carried her easily into the RV and navigated the cozy space without thinking of anything until his knees bumped at the edge of her bed. Nico practically tumbled them onto it, Jas’s legs still wrapped around him tightly, but he ended up beneath her. He only broke away from her to push himself up a little clumsily, shrug off his jacket and set it aside where it wouldn’t be crushed, ever-careful of the precious case in the pocket. It still felt like it took too long, took him too far away. A sweeping rush, like adrenaline or wildfire, tried to push him into letting go of all his restraint as he surged back to hold her, and a small, desperate noise escaped his throat as he tried to keep himself in check. It was difficult to stay grounded, when she looked at him like that. “You only had to ask,” he confessed, in a hoarse whisper. “Anything—” Anything, he’d give anything he could—as long as she kept saying his name that way, making those sweet little sounds, looking at him like he was worth holding on to. As usual, words failed him, his thoughts tumbling over each other in an effort to get to his mouth, to reach her. And it was so important that she understand—he didn’t have any doubts about this, or the two of them. Frustrated by trying to show how much the answer was yes, of course yes, and finally, and always, all he could really manage was to lift his hand to brush her cheek as he kissed her deeper, falling into it. Nico ran his fingers through her hair, before moving down the slope of her neck until he caught the back of her dress, resting on the zip there without going further. “Can I…?” he asked, barely getting the question out.

"It is, yeah," Jas murmured softly out. Her eyes crinkling in amusement as she made herself at home within his arms. Her fingers combing their way through his hair as her nose lightly brushed across his. She couldn't pinpoint when precisely she had gone from being the loner who pushed everyone away without a second thought to the girl who was now nuzzling closer into his side wanting more than anything to stay right here with him, but she didn't exactly hate it either. The way her heart seemed to skip a beat as he spoke as if he was already planning a trip out in his head for the two of them. "Wait, are you-" A breathless smile broke across her lips as she shook her head the smallest bit back and forth. "You know we haven't actually gone on a first date, yet, right Wonderboy? And yet here you are already planning out a trip to Europe for the two of us?" She teased, pressing a light kiss against his cheek. "So, Europe, huh? Anywhere else you want to go besides Rome? Because I mean while we're there, we could always go to Greece or Turkey or Austria?" She mused, choosing to go along with his train of thought rather than allow herself to get caught up in her head about what planning a future for herself would even mean in the long run.

"Maybe let's not call it trespassing? But, okay," She gave him a little nod in return. "Pizza, beer and potentially criminal activity. The perfect first date really," She teased some more. Humming lightly under her breath as her fingertips trailed across his jawline. Momentarily distracted by the way she could feel his heart beating through the thin fabric of both of their clothes as she pressed her chest against him. "Well, erm, thinking about starting one? It was, um, just a thought? And we definitely do. I just, I don't know. I haven't really ever embraced the side of spirit raising that doesn't require a sacrifice? Mainly because people are bothersome as is let alone ghosts who pop up unannounced and start badgering you to track down some long lost grandson of theirs, but I don't know. You and, uh, Rohan, the Coven, my family? You've kinda been making me think that maybe spirit raising is all that bad? And I, um, I kinda want to see where this goes too, so I guess what I'm trying to say is, I think Lunar Cove could be home for me? Maybe?" She scrunched up her noise once more as she said the words out loud, hating embarrassed she suddenly felt standing there knowing that her cheeks were likely a bright shade of blushing red at this point. But, thankfully, Nico mentioning the trouble he used to get in as a teen, offered her the perfect subject change she needed.

"Oh? Is it? Don't tell me! Wonderboy wasn't the starting Quarterback or Mr. Popular back in High School?" She feigned a look of surprise. Her smile only growing as she teased him some more, "Color my shocked. Well, now you're going to have to run me through the whole list. You know, we may have actually ran in similar circles if I had known you back then and good. You better have," She murmured back. A squeal escaping her lips as he pulled her back into his side, cutting her off with a kiss before she could warn him that she'd kill him if he ever told anyone that he had just heard that sound come out of her. Only when his hands moved up her thighs, sweeping her feet up from under her in one swift movement, she found her embarrassing fit of giggles being replaced with gasp followed shortly after by a soft moan of his name. "Nico," She moaned once more as she felt her all too short dress begin to rid up now that her legs were wrapped around his waists. Her thighs giving his hips a tight squeeze as those wide brown eyes of her peered up at him longingly. "Mhm. Dinner can wait," She murmured out in agreement, closing the distance between them once more as she began to shower him in kiss after kiss. And if it wasn't for the warm air that hit her back when he opened the door to her RV and began to carry them both inside, she likely wouldn't have even realized they were wandering straight back towards her bed. "Nico," Her voice was faint as she caught her breath just enough to find herself admitting out loud four dangerous words, "I want you. Please?"

[zeldaelmo]

Of Pines and Pining

Zelda stomped so forcefully through the corridor that the stone beneath her feet threatened to split. This was ridiculous, entirely ridiculous!

She rounded a corner, nearly colliding with a poor servant who didn't jump out of her way in time. As if she didn't have enough sorrow juggling the tight prayer schedule and her experiments and studies. No, now her father must order her to— grrr, she wouldn't even think about it until the very last second. 

It was a scheme, she just knew it. They had all teamed up, the Sheikah, the Champions, and even her father. He was the one who kept pushing her to pray, pray, pray, and now? Ridiculous. 

A second servant scrambled into position at the door of the Great Hall, hands outstretched towards the handle. In vain — she already attacked the big door with the full force of her shoulder and it gave in with a bang.

There they were: Daruk, tangled in tiny crystal ornaments, Revali, struggling with fairy lights, Urbosa was zipping bolts of lightning towards some kind of set of electric stars on the walls, Impa split up in ten versions of herself who all put up a single, majestic pine tree. Mipha trailed after him, enveloping him in healing magic. Why? Either the doofus had once again managed to hurt himself or she just felt like it. Not that Zelda cared what happened to his pretty face. Or his well-defined arms. Or his nice bu— 

“Oh, Her Highness managed to move her royal behind here, too. We’re honored, right, Robbie?!” Purah grabbed Zelda’s arm and before she could finish rolling her eyes, Zelda was elbow-deep in a bucket full of glittery something. “Do me a favor and detangle the tinsel, please. Your hands are small and used to flighty guardian wires.”

Zelda took a deep breath and swallowed her retort. Yes, that was right. Her father had ordered her to decorate the Great Hall for Hylia’s Day instead of praying. Good for the spirits, pah. If they did something useful like sparring with the team, they might actually learn a thing or two from each other that benefited them in fighting Calamity Ganon, but decorations? 

Her heart rate dropped. She was the only one who was useless on the battlefield, so detangling prickly tinsel might be just the right task for her.

“Are you ready?” Robbie asked, standing on a ladder and holding one end of the garland. At her nod, he tilted his head this way and that so much so that Zelda feared he might fall from the rung. “So, how are we doing this? I calculated that we’ll have enough tinsel to wrap it around the whole tree in a spacing of approximately one cubit.”

Zelda’s gaze traveled from the last knot in her hands up to the end where Robbie was balanced on the ladder. “I think we’ll need to space it out a bit more. That’s the rest here. Maybe a cubit and a half.”

“Bahaha!” Purah snorted behind her. “Are you two really doing maths to decorate a tree?”

“Of course we are,” Zelda muttered and kicked the empty box aside. “Don’t you have your own task? We’re doing just fine.” She looped the garland over the branches in exactly one and a half cubits under Robbie’s watchful goggles, but Purah wouldn’t give it a rest.

“You can’t decorate a tree and have it all neat and tidy. That’ll look boring.” Purah snapped her fingers. “Look at Linky, he has the vibe.”

‘Linky’ froze on the stool he was standing on, hands hovering over the silver wire he had just bent over a branch. Her gaze matched his, ice-blue making her hot and fuzzy all over, and she frowned at him. Goddess was he annoying in his infuriating handsome hero-ness. And why was he blushing again? She had noticed that just yesterday when he offered her a hand to slip from her saddle.

Mipha's blue magic wavered through the air as if it was nothing — because it was nothing to her — and formed a sparkling icicle around the wire. Oh, not healing magic. Ice magic. Sure, casually healing fatal injuries wasn’t enough, why not bend the elements too whilst she was at it?

A hiss escaped Link’s lips — Mipha had frozen his finger — but not even that would make him break away from their locked eyes. Good, because she wouldn’t look away either, finally she had the opportunity to pay him back for all the staring he did to her. The heat in her gaze would melt the stupid ice around his finger in no time.

"Oh, Link! I'm so sorry! How could that happen, we were doing so well the whole time! Are you hurt?" Mipha sing-sang, fluttering around him like a butterfly with sharp teeth.

He shook his head and flexed his hand, ice shattering all over the floor. "It's nothing."

An eye roll was the perfect way to exit a staring match, so Zelda did just that until her sockets hurt, but then her gaze fell back to the tree. And to the icicles that were scattered over the branches of the tree. No two stood in clear relation to each other, they were completely randomly spread. 

"So, that's what you call the vibe, yes, Purah? To me, it looks chaotic if nothing else."

Purah clicked her tongue. "I don't know what's wrong with you. Linky is always willing to be the test object for us — experiments that your studies benefit from, too, Princess. Open your mind a bit or you'll never see the beauty hidden in chaos."

Link ducked his head under one of the branches at the praise, was he once again hiding a blush? Odd. Zelda tied the end of the garland around the exact branch Robbie and she had calculated beforehand, huffing into Purah's direction. What was wrong with her? More to the point, what was wrong with everyone fussing over the Hero as if he had actually achieved something apart from being the poster boy of the kingdom. She leaned forward, pulling Purah closer by the sleeve.

"When did you switch sides, traitor? I thought you couldn't stand him ever since he destroyed the guardian. As you should, by the way."

Purah shrugged and whispered back. "I can't hate someone who let me test the stasis rune on him. Did you know that he makes a face if you run a bolt of electricity through his body?"

"That's unethical, Purah." Not that she cared about his safety, not at all (and no, she didn’t imagine doing mouth-to-mouth to bring him back to life, never!) but she didn't want the Royal Lab closed due to the scandal of accidentally killing the Hero.

"It’s not unethical. He volunteers."

Zelda crouched and helped her to tie a bow around the trunk of the tree. "Who would be so stupid?" 

Purah waggled her eyebrows so that they matched her glasses. "He says he does it for you because he knows how much you love science."

Zelda’s hands dropped and she stared at Purah. "That's a lie." It must be, right? He would never care for her interests like that. He was the cherished Hero of the Kingdom, a man who everyone, from the farm workers to the most elite royal guards looked up to. Why would he care about her, his partner in destiny who did nothing but disappoint? She shouldn’t even think about this possibility, it held nothing in store for her but heartbreak.

Purah cackled and crept backward out of the tree. "Of course, it's a lie. He hardly talks, who knows why he does it?"

Zelda crawled out of the branches, ensuring discreetly that no needles were stuck in her hair. She was a disdain in everyone's eyes anyway, she didn't need to make a fool out of herself on top. Of course, Link didn’t do the experiments for her. She was a silly girl for entertaining that thought even for a split-second.

"Princess?" Impa called from across the tree, standing next to… yeah. 

Zelda made her way around the pine but she dragged her feet, blinking her eyes. Goddess, she should know better than take one of Purah’s jokes to heart. "What is it? I think I have to go back to my praying schedule soon. You'll do just fine without me."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Your father gave permission that you can skip today."

Of course, her father would. But if she wanted to stay the day in the Royal Lab… so what if one of the guardians had misfired once? Nobody had been harmed thanks to Master I-have-a-potlid-nothing-can-stop-me. 

Gah, couldn't he look anywhere else with these unnerving blue eyes following her? Why were they always on her? And did he plan to make a habit out of that blush? His face had been perfectly normal when Mipha fixed the cryogenic burns on his finger and also when Impa wrapped her hand around his arm dragging them toward Daruk.

Wait, what did Impa say they should do? Oh, sweet Nayru, now she had to ask him what they were supposed to do. Humiliation spread all the way down to her feet!

"Hey little guy, hey Princess. Mind helping me out of this mess? I'm too clumsy for your tiny Hylian decorations." Daruk lifted two tightly wrapped hands. Oh, bless Daruk for helping her out. "I don't understand the hype anyway. We just put some of the gems we mine on little tables and that's it. Who needs crystals strung together?"

"Come here, let me help you." Zelda smiled. That was the task? Easy. She would simply get one hand free, Link the other and then she’d leave. 

Daruk grumbled and lamented under his breath while they worked at freeing his arms. Sometimes, he was like a puppy. What a shame that he held such a dislike for dogs! Wait, who had chuckled? Did she say that aloud? No. Link boxed Daruk playfully and they both laughed, pulling the string Link was detangling back and forth between them. She glanced at Link’s relaxed face and the smile on his lips. Oh, she had never heard him laughing… It didn’t affect her in the slightest. Zelda looped and looped the strings with the crystals between her elbow and her fingers, going faster and faster. 

Daruk pinched his brows when the last string finally unraveled from his arm. "But now you are wrapped up, Princess! And you, too, Link!"

"No, no." Zelda laughed and lifted her arm, pulling effectively at the strings. A yelp, short and breathy rang out, and Link stumbled toward her, catching himself only by half-hugging her. Urgh, she had forgotten that they were basically tied together thanks to both of them working on opposite ends.

“Sorry,” Link mumbled, his thumbs still pressing into her shoulders, his palms radiating as much warmth as his face. He was so close that her breath hitched when he looked up to her through his lashes. Why did he have to be pretty on top of it all? Wasn’t perfect and polite enough? And why did his hands on her feel comforting? Didn’t he mind them there?

Daruk barked a laugh and hit them both on the back with his newly freed hands, squeezing them further together. Now, she could smell Link’s soap — warm Safflina — and it sent a tingling shiver over her arms. 

"Haha, don't worry about her running away anymore, little guy! Now she'll stay at your side anytime if she wants to or not!"

"That's not — we're not—" Zelda stammered, heat rising slowly to her face, but Daruk had already turned and left towards the other Champions who decorated the columns at the opposite of the hall. 

Link's throat bobbed and he stepped back, lowering his hands. It served him well to look guilty. Why did he have to tell Daruk about their little differences? She didn't run away. She just needed a breather from time to time, but maybe he thought she shouldn’t be allowed one if she hadn't achieved anything yet? 

Blue, blue, nothing but electrifying blue. 

Why was he staring at her? His gaze dropped to the crystals and then he gently pried them from her arm, uniting them into one big loop. Oh.

He pulled a ladder toward them, pressed the bundle of strings in her arms again, and climbed up with the other end. Once there, he began tying it around the branches at the top of the tree. 

"You're doing it wrong," Zelda muttered, more to herself. 

He stopped and turned. "Then teach me, Princess." With that, he slid down the ladder, not even bothering to go step by step. His eyes never left hers and in slow motion, he offered the string he held to her, both their hands brushing for far too long to call it brushing. 

She snatched the crystals and charged up the ladder. 

On top of the last rung, she resolved everything he had knotted apart from the starting point. Then teach me, Princess. Skies, she had forgotten how soft his voice was but she wouldn't let the fact that he had talked to her again after days, distract her. She would show them how to properly decorate for Hylia’s Day and it would outmatch his chaotic attempts by far!

Knot after knot, she forged a straight line from branch to branch as far as the ladder allowed. When she couldn't reach the next branch, she gracefully stepped down only to be met with Link not staring at her for once.

"What?" she asked, following his gaze to the crystals.

"It's boring, is what he wants to say," Purah chimed in, putting her arms onto their shoulders. "But he's a well-behaved lad, so he doesn't. Right, Linky?"

At least, he didn't move a muscle at her comment. 

"Do it again and criss-cross them more." 

"That's what he just did and it looked awful." Zelda pulled at the ladder, but Link put his hand over hers, stopping her. She was too stubborn to pull away. They stood there, hand curled over hand for a whole minute, glaring at each other. Well, she glared. Zelda couldn't see what he was doing because he was so close that everything was just blue and his breath fanning over her lips didn't tell anything about his expression. Only maybe that his lips were parted but she would surely not think about his lips and she would never risk a glance at them now because that would let her look like she was interested in kissing him and she was most definitely not—

A cackle ripped her from her thoughts. "Maybe you two should just kiss. That would solve a lot of your problems with each other, I guess. Kiss, snap, gone!"

Oh, Goddess, could the Sheikah read minds?

Link huffed a laugh so close to her that she smelled a hint of mint on his breath. Then, the warmth radiating from him was suddenly gone and he bent down, brushing pine needles from his boots and muttering, "Maybe."

Zelda didn't move. What?!? He had answered— and WHAT? The nerve! Oh, she wouldn't let him get away with this! “Pardon me? What did you say?”

He flushed, putting the red bow around the tree trunk to shame. “Nothing.”

Oh, no, that hadn’t been ‘nothing’. That had been a ‘maybe’, loud enough for her to hear. Now she had finally found a point where she could rip that perfect hero-mask of his face. Hah! She put her hands on her hips, leaning into his space.  "I bet you are a messy kisser, too. Nobody likes that."

“Uh,” he stammered, his ears and face turning red for the fifth or sixth time today. She felt a little bit evil to grin at his misery, but it was just so satisfying to find a little kink in his perfection. He searched her eyes from under his forbidden-long lashes, matching their gazes for a long moment, and gradually, nearly as if time slowed down, his face shifted into something like a grin. "No complaints so far, Princess." 

Zelda’s jaw dropped. What was that in his voice, an edge of a challenge? Who would have thought that the silent Hero was quick on the comeback? But she hadn’t been kicked out of the debating society at the age of ten for nothing, she wouldn’t let him get away with this!

"Oh, Goddess, Linky.” With a start, Zelda realized that Purah was still standing next to them. Oops. She was on the floor, wiping her eyes. “You never talk, but when you do, that's what's coming out? Brilliant, just brilliant."

"Well." Zelda dropped her bundle of crystals to the floor, only keeping the string she came down the ladder with. In one swift motion, she swung it over his head and pulled him closer. "Get ready for your first complaint, Hero."

He smirked again, the tiniest twitch of his lips only, but unmistakably a smirk. Fire burned in his eyes, his pupils wide but focused on her. She had never seen him like this, the only look that came close was when he rushed into battle. Goddess, she had challenged the Hero of Hyrule to a duel and she was not prepared. 

It was too late to run now, she wouldn’t back out. Not after he had infiltrated her life, even her dreams with those eyes of his.

His damned warm hands came up to her face, rubbing a calloused thumb over her cheek. She forced her eyes not to flutter.

"I'm out," Purah announced, still cackling, "Getting too hot for me here."

Link lingered, his thumb making a last sweep, breath tingling on the delicate skin just above her lips. "You sure?"

Oh, of course, he played the ever-caring Hero now, as if she hadn't challenged him! That cut no ice with her. 

A last sweeping glance around the hall; nobody was watching. She tugged the strings of crystals, not forcefully but strongly enough to have him plummet into the gap between them. He hesitated a last, long moment and then he pressed his lips to hers. Half-open, no headstart, nothing. Just teasing, teasing, immediately brushing lips on lips, mingling breath with breath. Messy. Zelda fought the drowning pull to give in. She abandoned the crystals, and sneaked her hand to his nape, threading his hair into her fist, and tucked it to get the angle right. She didn't need a ruler for this. 

He moaned, breathy and loud into her mouth, and it hit her like lightning: He kissed as he bore the sword, chaotic, deadly, vocal. Oh, no, eliciting these noises from him unearthed feelings she had buried deep and deeper in her heart…

As if all this wasn't enough already, he caressed her cheeks again with that rough pad of his thumb, tempting her to open up, and she fell, fell into the depth of chaos. His tongue — mint, indeed — flirted with hers, teeth clicking, nearly crashing, and she unraveled with him until she had to break off, panting for air.

He released her, stepping back respectfully. As if he hadn't just kissed her senseless, their faces still flushed and their hair wild.

"Messy." Zelda gasped, wiping her lips. "As I said."

He took another step back, nearly disappearing into the tree. When he answered the challenge was still in his words, but it had ebbed away from his tone, making his voice sound shy. "The question is whether you're complaining or not, Princess."

“What’s messy?” Mipha’s soft voice made both their eyes go wide. Oh, for heaven’s sake, had she just kissed the Hero of Hyrule in the Great Hall with the Sheikah and Champions around? She must be insane on top of a failure. 

“Maybe I can help?” Mipha just wouldn’t go away. Her fin rested on Link’s shoulder, gentle and reassuring. Zelda wanted to push it away. Whoa, wait, she wanted what now? Link disappeared further into the tree. He was already half-covered with branches, and Zelda blinked, the image of his kiss-swollen lips never leaving her mind. Pieces suddenly clicked in place. This sense of chaos, of adventure, it lacked in her meticulously scheduled life and... Oh, please, no. As if she hadn’t enough problems already… 

She cleared her throat, and followed Link into the tree, detangling the string of crystals from his neck. He looked at everything but at her.

“We were, um, decorating the tree with the crystals,” Zelda explained, cringing at her own lie.

“Oh, and you couldn’t get it right? If we all work together, we’ll sort it out, I’m sure.” 

Mipha was so sweet, it made Zelda nauseous. Did she really not see what Link and her just did?

“Actually…” Zelda looked from the crystals to Mipha to Link. His gaze was still directed at something at the ceiling. “After further consideration I don’t have any complaints about the way Link did it. Would you be so kind, Link?”

His jaw dropped and his gaze meandered to hers. He stared for a long while, then he answered, taking the crystals, “It will be my pleasure.”

“Well, alright then! I’ll help Daruk!” Mipha turned and disappeared, still oblivious to everything going on between them.

“Does that mean I’m not in trouble?” Link asked quietly. “I should never have done this, I don’t know what came over me. I apologize for my very inappropriate behavior as your knight.”

Zelda sized him up and down and he blushed, blushed until she couldn't take it anymore. She leaned closer, raised her hand to his face and drove the pad of her thumb over his parted lips. 

"Oh, you have no idea, Hero. The trouble has just begun."

[barnesbabee]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ-  ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST: White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better man, how to have mercy, and compassion."

Unbeknownst to you, a little purple and pink cat watched every step you took. Of course, it wasn't because he cared. Cheshire (unlike many other Wonderland villagers) genuinely wasn't affected by your presence, or lack there of, but the Hatter had asked him, in exchange of a hefty reward, of course, to keep an eye on his beloved Y/N.

While watching over you Cheshire just did a whole bunch of growling and nose scrunching. He hated the sight of the King, and even worse, was the sight of such a man in love.

"Such a shame to be the bearer of bad news dear friend," Cheshire said, not at bothered by the fact that he had bad news to tell "but it seems as if Y/N will be our new Queen."

The cat twirled a strand of his coloured hair around his index finger, as he fell down onto one of the many chairs along with the Hatter's never-ending table.

The Hatter's eyes widened and so did his toothy smile.

"She's carrying on with the plan! She will decapitate him herself and become our Queen! Oh but I'm so happy I could dance the Futterwacken again!"

He clapped feverously and suggested a toast, clearly missing the meaning of Cheshire's words.

"I'm afraid you missed what I meant, Hatter. She will be our Queen, because she will be marrying the King."

The atmosphere suddenly became silent, eerie even. The Hatter's green, sparkly eyes transformed into an ugly, rage-filled, yellow. The man gripped the teacup on his hand so hard it broke, but the rage, disappointment, and growing heartbreak fogged his brain to the point where he didn't even notice the pain, nor the blood trickling down his palm.

The Hatter was rarely angry, but when he was, it was enough to scare poor Cheshire, who didn't hesitate in disappearing into thin air. Or he tried to. Before every bit of his body could be gone, the Hatter grabbed Cheshire's hair, making the cat groan in pain, and threw him on the ground.

"What has he done to her!? Was it a curse!?"

Cheshire caressed his head and stood up to look at the Hatter.

"It wasn't a curse Hatter, she fell in love. After you deceived her and the King showed her nothing but truth and love, the choice was pretty evident."

The reasonable explanation seemed to calm down the Hatter, whose eyes morphed back into their greenish colour. However the dread and panic in his face were still evident. Cheshire, still quite upset at Hatter's tantrum, could see on his friend's face an expression of someone about to spew a terrible, terrible idea.

"We must get her away from the Palace. It's gotten into her head. Let's get her back to us!"

The man-like cat floated back to his usual place in the air, twirling in the process. He chuckled audibly, showing his sharp canines in the process.

"Hmm yes, let's steal her away from the man she's come to love, so she could be with us, the people who lied to her for our own benefit. Sounds like a party if you ask me..."

"A party!?" Haigha exclaimed, his left eye twitching as he smiled widely at the mention of his favourite hobbie.

"That's where the King's behaviour comes in our favour," the Hatter said, patting Haigha's head so he'd sit back down "once he sees her take her beloved Queen away, he will show his true colours, Remember how scared and freaked out she was last time we saw her? She said he seemed really sweet while talking to her until he eventually snapped. Once he snaps, he will freak out and bring out the tyrant's behaviour and scare her away."

It was hard for Cheshire to admit, but his mad friend's plan wasn't so mad after all. It was possible to accomplish what the Hatter suggested, and there was nothing to lose, you already hated them anyway.

The Hatter slapped his thighs and stood up, fixing his big top hat in the process.

"Shall we go?"

Haigha was already standing up from his seat when Cheshire stopped them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the plan further... Something tells me we might need some help from Absolem and Bayard..."

Sneaking you out past the Card Knights would take a lot of help, and Cheshire had already worked out in his head the escape plan. It would take a little pressure on Absolem, as he managed to care even less about the people around him than Cheshire did, but the cat was sure he could get a shrinking cake out of the blue catterpillar. After shrinking you and hatter down to the size of a strawberry, Bayard (the loyal dog friend of Hatter's, that Cheshire tried his best to keep a distance of) would bring you to the White Rabbit's house, as it would be too obvious to come back to the Hatter's cabin.

The cat had no intention to help you, but he did like to see some drama and commotion in Wonderland once in a while, and this was his chance.

Whilst all of the furious planning went on on the greenlands of Wonderland, in the Palace you and the King sat opposite of each other on his bed, gossiping like two high schoolers.

"And then my best friend at the time, Anna, slept with my boyfriend and said it was 'because of a dare'. I forgave her because we had been friends for so long but then she told my crush that I smelled so I stopped being her friend."

The King nodded along and listened attentively (trying his best to cross his legs just like you, but failing miserably) to your story.

"Hm yes, yes, I understand. My best friend ate one of my tarts so I cut off his head."

You couldn't help but scoff at the way he compared the situations, although you reprehended him right after for the heartless act.

He had asked to know of your previous life, how it was back in your world, and so you sat there reminiscing your past for hours on end. Most people in Wonderland came from other places, but Seonghwa had never been elsewhere, as he was born in the Kingdom.

"So this establishment you call 'school', was it like a club you went to where you reunited with your peers?"

"No, no. School was a mandatory thing for all kids, we went there and a bunch of teachers taught us about different things."

"Hm, but all you've told me so far were anecdotes about these friends of yours, what were these classes like?"

You blushed slightly, realizing that in fact, you didn't remember shit from school, aside from past dramas.

"Well, they told us many things about earth, about what makes the world move, about how society works, and what makes things work. We learned about gravity, about numbers, about stars-"

"Stars!?"

The King's eyes lit up as if he was a child whom you had promised ice cream to.

"Yes, stars. Why?"

Seonghwa stood up from the bed in such a violent manner, he nearly fell. The man ran over to his closet, from where he retrieved an old book. The hard cover was beginning to tear, and the once white pages had become a weird mix of brown and yellow, but you took it in your hands nevertheless.

"This book once fell into the Wonderland when I was a child. I was alone most of the time, so it kept me company. I can tell from the images it talks about the stars, and I think I learned a lot from it since I stared at them a lot, but I cannot comprehend the alien language."

The King leaned against the headboard, and you laid beside him, placing your head on his chest, so you could hear his now nervous heart beating fast from the contact. Out of instinct, the King placed his arm around you and pulled you closer, as you opened the book.

You chuckled slightly, after seeing the author of the book and opening its pages.

"Seonghwa this isn't an alien language, it's Italian. Well, I guess it's an alien language to you, but it was funny that you said it that way... The person who wrote it was very influential back where I'm from, he taught the people of Earth many things about our space."

The male listened carefully as you tried your best to explain the things in the book as best as you could.

"This here is what we call the Solar System. It has nine planets, but only one of them has people, this one, where I live." You told him, pointing towards Earth.

Seonghwa noticed how your posture changed, after you remembered once more that you would never return home again, and panicked for a second. He disliked many things, but your tears had definitely gone up to his number 1 on the list.

"How about I ask for a picnic to be arranged in the garden, and at night we can watch the stars."

You turned to face him and smiled as you nodded. Seonghwa's thumb caressed your arm, and you couldn't help but to place a soft kiss on his lips, as a 'thank you'. No matter how many times you did that, the King never seemed to get used to it. He would always feel butterflies in his stomach and fireworks exploding on his chest. Sometimes you felt perverted, thinking of how he'd react if one day you decided to take it... further. You imagined how pretty he'd look... But you decided to take your time. Baby steps...

The King couldn't wait for dinner time, and you could tell from the number of times he had gone up to the window and pushed away the blinds to see if the sun was finally setting.

As he was staring out the window, you came behind him and wrapped your arms around his figure.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Seonghwa looked around, to make sure no one was nearby eavesdropping. He wouldn't want your secret to being known.

You tiptoed so your lips could be leveled with his ear.

"You're adorable."

Once you got back down and looked into his gleeful eyes, you smiled.

"Let's keep this secret between us!" He joked along.

"Yes, I wouldn't want the other ladies to know and steal you away."

Seonghwa held your face and lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead.

"The other ladies don't stand a chance next to you princess."

Your cheeks heated up and you slapped his chest out of embarrassment. The King's face grew worried and confused.

"Why did you hit me? Have I done something wrong? It was meant to be a compliment I'm sorry I compared you to-"

You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, making him form an adorable pout with his red lips.

"Seonghwa, it was a good thing. I slapped your chest because I was embarrassed, I was really touched by your compliment."

Once you let go of his face, the King tapped his chin with his index finger, in a pensive manner.

"I have much to learn about our future interactions, I do not understand many things."

You just chuckled and took his hand in yours.

"We have many years ahead of us, you will learn someday."

The small acknowledgment of your future made Seonghwa very happy. Never in his pitiful life had he even thought of being this happy over small actions... Last week the only thing that brought him joy was the sound of a traitor's head hitting the concrete floors of the palace's main area, but since you arrived, a smile was all it took for his cold heart to start beating again.

It didn't take long before one of the frogmen knocked on the door to inform the picnic was ready. Seonghwa didn't let go of your hand as you walked outside, to sit among the red roses.

You had finally come to terms with Wonderland's weird food. You had no choice really...

"Have you never been attracted to anyone, Seonghwa?" You asked as you munched down on a sandwich of... whatever it was.

Seonghwa's expression faded a little.

"Once. I had just become King and I thought that the next step would, logically, be the find a Queen. Every woman displeased me. All but one. She was beautiful, hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin from the sun, and a beautiful mole under the eye. But she was cold, evil... I thought that it was a perfect match. After all, I wasn't the most caring person. But she would treat me like a servant. Our relationship was purely to serve a purpose to the Kingdom, nothing else. We slept in separate rooms and spent the day apart. We only dined together, but since I saw the same behavior from my parents I thought that that was love. Our wedding had been scheduled long before she moved into the castle, we were simply waiting for the preparations to be finished. Everything was custom made, from the clothes to the flowers on every table. The day before the wedding I walked to her bedroom and found her laying with a servant of mine. You know, back when they weren't... Frogs. I had them both decapitated, of course. And I swore off love forever. That is until you came along."

You flashed him a sad smile and set down your food. He looked awfully confused as you climbed onto his lap, but he didn't protest.

You brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Both of them. He suddenly felt very exposed and insecure, but you kissed his cheek, reassuringly.

"Ever since I came down here you've shown me nothing but love, and honesty. You didn't try to sugarcoat who you are, or what you've done, and I appreciate your honesty. My place in Wonderland is with you."

The male smiled, and kissed you, a little more passionately than all of the previous times. The male's hands trailed down your ass, and pulled you on top of his growing erection.

"For someone who has never been with anyone you're quite good at this."

"Well I... I lied. I had a fiancé after all, and we laid together but we didn't get far. There was no kissing involved, she just wanted to get it over with since I was the one who suggested we should... do it. But she made fun of me for not being good at it and I became... insecure. I was insecure and for the longest time I've wanted to try it with you, because you give me those special butterflies but I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

"What a cold, heartless bitch!" You thought to yourself. No wonder he was so bad at human interactions, every relationship he had was a trainwreck!

You grabbed his face and placed a long kiss on his lips.

"Well then, let me lead at first. If you start feeling more confident, you can take the lead, if not, I'll stay in control, okay?"

The King simply nodded and kissed you once more. This time deeper than he had ever kissed anyone. Tongues fighting so intensely the King nearly missed the way your hand expediently undid his trousers. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and took out his length. You looked down at the dick in your hand and widened your eye.

"Well aren't I a lucky girl."

You spat in your hand and kissed him again, as your hand worked up and down his shaft. The King was surprisingly very vocal, and he didn't try to hide or suppress any of his pretty moans (and for that you were thankful.

You stopped your hand, right as he was getting riled up.

"Ready for something better?"

The King watched you strip from your panties, and he cursed the frilly dress that covered your womanhood, but as soon as you sunk down on his cock, all of his worries and anguishes washed away. It was automatic, the way he gripped your hips and made you bounce on him as he snapped your hips against yours was something he did naturally as if he truly knew what he was doing. You brought out something different in him, and the King was simply doing was his body was telling him to do.

You gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed with the feeling of having him inside you.

"S-shit Seonghwa, you're good, r-really fucking good."

"Oh yeah?"

He flipped you two around, so he could pound into you with all the strength he had. Your words of encouragement were all he needed.

Your consistent (and loud) moans got him on the edge quickly, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Y/N forgive me, but I don't think I can last much longer."

Your hand reached down and began circling your clit, so when he came inside you, filling you up with his cum, you came right after, with a loud cry for his name.

Seonghwa laid on top of you, his face nuzzled on the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as you did the same, looking up at the sky.

"The stars sure look beautiful today."

[lazarettta]

Misthios VII

Pairing (Mother Miranda x Spartan!Reader)

Rating (M)

Word Count (4.6k)

Warning (probably language right now)

You and Miranda are finally moving on to having that long chat that's separated you both for centuries.

The Queen's eyes fluttered open, finally waking with the morning rays of the sun peaking over the mountain. Her balcony doors were wide open to let the cool night breeze into her personal chambers while the two fireplaces burned well into the night. It was a combination of warm and cool that her majesty enjoyed greatly as it helped her with sleep.

Of course, sharing her bed with you also aided with her troubles with sleep for the past few months since your arrival to the region. Wonderful in all the ways she could never have imagined; a warrior and a lover, the two things that made her life easier—and the lives of her enemies that much worse.

It had been well past dinner time when you returned to the castle along with the squadron of soldiers you'd gone with including a Captain of the military who was leading the raid. Part of your armor had been slashed and torn, stained with blood and whatever else you encountered outside of the castle walls.

But when Miranda stood in the doorway of her private bath watching as you stripped of your amour—she witnessed no open wounds for her to tend to or fret over, but blood stained your skin anyway. Even though she knew that she should have the moment she noticed: Miranda never questioned why you'd always have a new scar every other day or why your shirts had the evidence of a stab wound taking place right above your hip, including a blood stain, but all you could do was smile when asked about it.

“ Is everything alright, your majesty?”

Miranda blinked, her mind coming back to reality now finding herself sitting up in her bed currently being blinded by the morning sun. The Queen sighed heavily, looking down at your sleeping form—as always you were on your back with one arm tucked beneath one of the pillows behind your head and the other was being used as Miranda's pillow for most of the night. As always.

Like herself, you were bare as the day you were born...your entire torso shamelessly revealed for her roaming insatiable eyes...and she smirked when a particularly cool breeze swept through the room. She watched the goosebumps rise under your exposed skin, including your nipples making Miranda hum softly.

“ Y-your majesty?”

Miranda, suddenly remembering just what, or rather who, had bothered her before and looked towards the girl, pleased when she saw that her eyes were on the floor.

“ Everything is more than alright, girl, however you may leave... I'll be out shortly.”

A hand curling around her waist brought Miranda's gaze from the closing double doors where the meek girl disappeared through and back to you. Your eyes were still closed but you were starting to wake up, stretching like a feline and again Miranda's eyes were drawn to your chest.

“ Carved by the Gods,” she mumbled, the tips of her nails tracing your firm abdomen with no particular pattern, simply enjoying the light marks she was leaving behind around your belly button, knowing how much you enjoyed when she did that as well.

You saw the thoughtful look on Miranda's face when you opened your eyes but you couldn't stop the giant yawn from escaping, “Morning,”

Miranda smiled down at you, enjoying the way the sun made your skin glow but you weren't fooled by that smile—you were used to Miranda's smiles and this was one of her worries. The sort of smile where she wanted to reassure you while scolding you at the same time. You pulled away slightly, and sat up a bit so you could give her your full attention. When the monarch remained silent, simply staring at you, all you could do was raise an eyebrow...waiting.

Miranda scoffed at the action, shaking her head, “It's ironic isn't it, how we the others tales...but we do not truly know each other, do we?”

You shrugged, smirking at her—refusing to hint at the nerves beginning to crawl up your spine, “Pretty sure we know each other inside and out, your highness.”

Miranda gave you a look, clearly unimpressed, “Yes, beneath that charm and nonchalance...is something quite fascinating, isn't there? And...it seems that your truth only comes to light during battle.”

“ Pardon?” you sat up a little more now, eyebrows furrowed—unsure where Miranda was going with this but you no doubt that it probably wasn't going to be good for you. Especially since you're naked and vulnerable but not defenseless.

“ Captain Ake came to me last night after I left you to your bath, he seemed quite concerned with something...and quite frankly, I'm curious myself.” Miranda's hand had stopped tracing patterns on your stomach, but her hand still lingered...and the moment her index finger traced over the raised skin right next to your belly button, the brand new one, you knew you fucked up.

“ About what?” You mumbled not daring to look down at her hand, and her eyes burned into yours—playing dumb would only get you so far—probably the dungeons if you were lucky. You knew exactly what Ake was concerned with though you weren't sure if he actually saw you take a sword through your gut as it was so dark and everything happened within a blink or two.

“ What I am going to say next may sound crazy, however, Captain Ake is one of my most loyal subject in this castle, and quite sane...he claims to have witnessed you being impaled,” Miranda exhaled slowly, “By the enemy...and somehow managed to walk away from it, unharmed. Would you mind telling me what happened, my dear?”

You stared at her for a second, “And...you believed him? Could I have really been stabbed by a sword and do what I did last night? Do you know how insane you sound?”

“ Watch your tongue! You're still addressing your Queen, warrior.”

“ I'm sorry, but you seriously don't believe that shit do you?”

“ I've been noticing a few things myself, (Y/n)...and I would really like some answers myself.”

“ Right. I'll take that as my signal to leave, your majesty. Thanks for letting me sleep here last night.”

Miranda's eyes narrowed slightly, reaching out to grab your wrist to prevent you from running from her, “(Y/n), do not run from me...I'm only trying to understand! You can trust me, this I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you.”

You wanted to believe her, but you had to learn the hard way that trust was nothing but a word—a word that can be broken over and over. You were too stupid to learn in the past but you weren't about to do the same thing now. Pushing the covers aside you threw some mundane excuse over your shoulder but before you could actually get to the edge of the bed, you were pulled back and pushed back into your previous position. It didn't actually hurt but it wasn't gentle either but you were pretty sure that it was Miranda that moved you, but you hadn't actually felt or seen her move a muscle.

“ W...how? Miranda?!”

Miranda smiled shyly at your bewildered expression—a very rare expression from the Queen but like yourself, she was feeling quite vulnerable, “You're not alone, (Y/n)...and neither am I.”

“ Neither....are you?” Miranda chuckled at your expression and your inability to put two and two together. When you tried to sit back up, Miranda's shy smile morphed into something more amused and predatory because you realized that you couldn't move—and Miranda still hadn't moved an inch.

“ Ah, now do I have your full attention?”

The closer you got to Miranda's home the more treacherous the path became and you'd lost sight of the woman flying low above the trees ten minutes ago—or what you thought to be ten minutes, you weren't sure. Your eyes were glued to the ground, keeping a firm but relaxed grip on the reign of your stallion, Bruce, whispering gently to him. Alcina called him a gentle giant and she wasn't exaggerating. The path was narrow and very unkempt but you wouldn't expect Miranda to make things easy, especially access to her private home.

There was a point that you weren't even sure you and Bruce were actually going to make it across but there was no way you could've turned the massive horse around either, forward was the only way and you weren't ashamed to admit that your heart was pounding hard enough to crack bones. The moment you cleared the trees, Miranda's home finally came into view—and you were not disappointed. It was a simple two story cabin practically etched into the mountain and you wanted to know how the hell she managed to get this place on the sliver of rock.

You'd brought Bruce to a stop just as Miranda appeared and landed gracefully on her porch even with her heels on (you caught a glimpse of them earlier when she started flying). From her porch alone, Miranda had a perfect view of everything . The village, the manor sitting on the waterfall, the factory and of course the castle. There was a light blanket of fog obscuring most of the view, but it was still breathtaking all the same.

You dismounted Bruce easily, gently guiding him to the post next to Miranda's porch. You fed him a few sugar cubes, gingerly untangling part of his dark mane and pulling free a few twigs and leaves.

“Further up the path I have there's a stable for him, we can take him later.”

You turned to look at Miranda, finding her standing in the door looking at you, her expression unreadable and you were too tired to try and decipher it. You double checked the post before steeling your nerves and joining her on her porch, it was roomier than it actually looked and you spotted a hammock on the other corner—not the usual netted sort, it looked like a quilt and quite comfortable too.

You followed Miranda inside, shutting out the cold—the interior of Miranda's home had you stock still at the front door with your hand still on the door knob. The space was open, having the living room and the eating area open with no barrier, and you could easily see the kitchen from where you stood. It was...cozy and warm.

“Surprised?” Miranda's voice brought your eyes to where she was, now half way up the stairs behind the kitchen wall, she wore a soft smile, the front of her robes already opened (you didn't even realize the fucking thing even had a zipper), revealing the slacks and blouse she wore underneath, “Did you expect me to live in a cave?”

“I expected you to at least have a TV.”

Miranda smirked but it didn't reach her eyes, “Are you going to stand there bitching about the lack of media corruption or do you want that shower?”

Your hand finally relaxed off of the door knob, the light throbbing resulting in just how hard you were holding the poor thing. You kicked off your boots at the door—they were covered in mud, snow and probably horse shit at some point, they were filthy. And the last thing you wanted to do was dirty up Miranda's wood floors.

She waited until you were on the stairs to continue up herself while slipping her robe from her shoulders and casually throwing it over her arm as if it were just a towel. “There are only three rooms on this floor. My own, the guest room and the bathroom.”

You raised an eyebrow, “One bathroom?”

“I don't exactly keep guests, dear.”

“So then why the extra bedroom?” you were being a shit, you knew it, but you couldn't help it—Miranda made it easy for you to tease her sometimes (all the time). You wanted to be more bothered over how easy it was for you to fall back into old habits with this woman.

“The longer you stand there being an idiot, the colder your water gets.”

You raised your hands slightly, moving past her towards the door she pointed to, flipping on the light—it was roomier than you expected it to be, dark and a bit modern but Miranda somehow still managed to keep it grand and medieval. The floor was made of stone, there was a grand shower with a curved glass door and next to it was a bear claw of a tub, melded into the floor like it was a hot spring. Across the floor was a single sink and a mirror, and next to it a door where you assumed you'd find the towels and toiletries. Just past the tub, was the toilet though there was a half wall there to offer some privacy and you spotted your backpack sitting on top of it neatly and that finally gave you pause.

“Figured you didn't want to walk around naked or wearing any of my clothes.”

You hadn't even noticed that you had actually walked into the bathroom, admiring it's simple yet beautiful décor or that Miranda followed you in until the shower sprung to life next to you.

She smiled at you apologetically, not having meant to startle you—but seeing you so easily bothered helped put her at ease. Miranda was good at hiding it, but she was quite nervous. Having you so near and so far from her at the same time in the comfort of her own home, her sanctuary—none of the other Lord's knew where she lived, they probably thought she lived in a cave or a nest or something. You were Miranda's first house guest since she arrived in this village.

She closed the shower door, watching you open your backpack—checking through it, and she couldn't stop the small smile from forming after you smirked, realizing that you were still without your weapons. But you didn't make a comment on it, instead beginning to pull out the things that you needed—until you realized that she was still in the room as well.

You raised an eyebrow at Miranda, and her smile only grew but the blonde simply shrugged her wings and tucked her wings tighter to her back as she exited the room, “I'll be downstairs when you're finished...”

“Miranda—”

She paused and you froze, fuck, why did you do that? You hadn't meant to call out to her, but your mouth was faster than your brain sometimes and now she was looking at you expectantly and all you could do was stare at her like a jackass. There was so much, too much, that you wanted to say but where could you even start? Why were you getting this courage in the fucking bathroom of all places?

“Downstairs.” She reminded you gently when the silence stretched too long—you had panicked and she saw that, and instead of jumping on you like the predator you knew that she was fully capable of being—she left you alone to your thoughts and the hot water steaming the room, calling your name. It was a welcome distraction even if it wouldn't be a forever one.

“Being immortal really is overrated.”

Miranda didn't go downstairs immediately, instead making a beeline for her bedroom and closed the door behind her but left it ajar enough for her to still hear you in the bathroom. Miranda carefully hung up her 'Mother Miranda' robe and began stripping out of the clothes she's been wearing for the past two days along with her rings; finally taking off the crown of Mother and just becoming Miranda with every stitch of clothing she removed from her flawless skin.

Standing naked in front of her full-length mirror, Miranda whispered a delicate but very familiar spell she's known since she was a small child and she winced quietly as her wings folded back into her body for the next six or seven hours. The spell wasn't forever but Miranda often used it when she was home to avoid breaking her things as she often did if she let her wings remain as they were, they often got restless if she stayed home and still too long so she just opted for putting them away to save herself the trouble. And money.

When the last two smaller ones on her lower back finally retreated into her skin, Miranda rolled her shoulders to pop out the kinks. She got dressed in a pair of washed out pants and a v-neck shirt, and at the last minute Miranda threw on her dark wool cardigan before heading back downstairs but not before pausing outside of the bathroom door. She heard you humming over the shower and though she didn't recognize the song, it still made her smile.

Suddenly feeling like a creeper, Miranda moved away from the door and went downstairs to start on the coffee she was craving earlier. She got her fireplace going but that all took less than ten minutes and now she found herself back in her kitchen, pulling ingredients from her refrigerator to give her something to do besides fret.

“ You shouldn't be so comfortable with your champion, in public.” Fritjof complained for the thousandth time in her ear—he was one of her primary advisors, having been employed by her late husband, the former King. He was always a bit of an annoyance, but he often proved himself useful and unwittingly saved his own life time to time from Miranda's ire.

“ I was only congratulating her on another victorious raid on a neighboring kingdom that thought it wise to steal from us, or have you forgotten that little fact, Fritjof?”

He frowned, not liking her tone but he quickly corrected his features knowing that they were still in the halls on their way to the Queen's study, but there were still eyes on them, “I...yes, but it sends the wrong message when you send a blood wolf to handle this kingdoms affairs instead of your loyal officers! You make us all look weak!”

Miranda stopped walking, and whirled around on Fritjof, her coat wrapping around her leather clad legs as she did so, and the frail man jumped back a step, knowing that he overstepped a line severely, “A-apologies—”

“ You will apologize with your tongue!” Miranda hissed, “Though I'm sure (Y/n) would rather have your head for all the times you've questioned her loyalty to this kingdom! We're coming up on eight years, Fritjof, and (Y/n) has helped this kingdom prosper more than you ever could've in your twenty years with my late husband.” Miranda sneered dangerously, edging closer to him and the terrified man could only back up into the table, knocking over a vase but Miranda paid it no mind, “One more word about this and I will have you removed. Permanently.”

Fritjof swallowed harshly, beads of sweat forming at his hairline and rolling down his face, and Miranda's sneer deepened in disgust, “Please, your highness, I'm only looking out for the future of the kingdom! It—it needs an heir and a King! The other kingdoms will never recognize your power without either—” his words were cut off when Miranda struck him down, a single line of blood staining a portrait on the wall behind him. Miranda struck faster than he could react and Fritjof cried out in pain, alerting the guards who came running but stopped when they saw their Sovereign standing over the slimy advisor holding part of his face, blood starting to seep through his fingers.

“ For every brilliant woman, there's always a stupid man thing to be found.” Miranda stepped over his pathetic body and continued on her way, rolling her shoulders back when her back began to twinge in response to her high and irritated emotions, and she needed release. “Get him out of my sight and find my champion; send her to me when you do.”

“ Yes, my Queen.” They both replied, one of them roughly hauling Fritjof to his feet and pushing him forward, but not before the man could cast one last glance at Miranda's retreating back until he was shoved forward. “Move!”

The cabin was filled with the aroma of sweet bread and coffee and your stomach was growling something vicious halfway down the stairs after you put your back in the guest room. Miranda had her back to you and you took the moment to stop at the bottom of the stairs to just observe her. The very first thing you noticed was that her wings were gone and she was more relaxed—it probably had a lot to do with her being in her own home, and it was starting to make more sense why she wanted to be in the comfort of her own home for this conversation. Though her argument for privacy was valid as well.

Your eyes flickered around the open space, spotting something tucked in the corner of the living room and scoffed without meaning to and alerting Miranda of your presence, if she wasn't already. She turned from her task of fixing you both something to eat to watch you walk across the room to where the object of your interest lay with a carefully crafted expression.

“Didn't take you for owning a rifle.”

“It's ten years old, I believe.” Miranda hummed quietly, dusting off her hands before taking down a couple of plates from the cabinet above the stove. You looked at her when she didn't elaborate, really curious now.

“It's in pretty good condition, really beautiful...where did you get it?” you checked the clip and saw that there were exactly ten rounds in there. When Miranda didn't answer you immediately, you found her watching you.

“It's not mine.” Miranda set the plates at the small eating table that could easily seat two other people, “I took it from a witch hunter as he was so kind to come all this way to visit. He tried to kill me in my sleep like a coward. He intrudes upon my home and couldn't be bothered to give me an honorable death. The audacity of men certainly hasn't changed over the years.”

Her tone was not lost on you and you knew that the witch hunter was long dead. You traced the steel design grip, impressed at the detail—and distracted.

“Oh, so now you hate men?” Ah... and once again your mouth was faster than your brain could process, and just like that her eyes were on your back—you felt it.

“I've always hated men, (Y/n). I...” she sighed harshly, her eyes turning into a glare, “Stop doing that, you don't have the entire story so if you're done being an ass and running from this conversation—I would really like to clear the air between us so we can move on from this.”

“You mean your truth that you want me to hear so badly?” You chuckled though it lacked any amusement. You set the rifle down, finally giving her your full attention then sighed heavily—a sudden exhaustion falling over you, “Would it really matter at this point, Miranda? It happened centuries ago...we both moved on, why do you want to drudge this back up?”

“Why don't you?” Miranda moved around the table, the coffee and snack forgotten in the moment, but she didn't try to approach you, “I'm not the only one who was in the wrong, (Y/n).”

“Do you think I cared about your status when I found out the woman I loved married a man behind my back and didn't even fucking tell me! I had to find out in the middle of that stupid ball you wanted to throw so bad after we invaded those rebellion villages. I gave you everything and you betrayed me . I crossed lines for you, Miranda. I thought that would warrant enough decency to be honest with me. I-”

You stopped, your face was hot and you exhaled heavily—doing your best not to sniffle, you hated that you were the type to fucking cry when your emotions bubbled to the surface too fast. Especially when the topic is something you've buried long deep in the dark corners of your mind with no hope for daylight again. You just never thought you'd bump into your past like this. And it's been years since you've had to deal with anything on a personal level after your last child passed away fifty years ago at the tender age of eighty-six.

Miranda saw the emotions playing across your face with a frown but otherwise her own emotions were carefully hidden, she was always better at that than you were, and inched closer, “(Y/n)...”

“We've both obviously lived with this hurt and came out fine,” you cut her off, not looking at her but instead at your bare toes with your hands back in your pockets, “What's closure gonna do besides bring up old hurt?”

“No, that's not it at all, I just...” Miranda coughed lightly and cleared her throat,—your question was valid as she's asked herself this many times before, asking herself why she didn't just let you go in the forest—she could've let you go and saved you both from this reopened wound. But she didn't because she couldn't and Miranda wouldn't apologize for it. Because she's always been a selfish woman, and one of her most selfish needs—even when she first laid eyes on you—she knew that you were hers. That never changed, time could never take that away from her.

“This life is long and lonely, (Y/n)...and I've made many mistakes, most I will never have a chance to atone for...and when I saw you,” Miranda looked into your eyes and bit her bottom lip, you weren't even looking at her anymore, “I've lost so much in this life, and I refused to lose you a second time. The first time I was...I was corrupted with greed and power, but I was stupid and it cost me everything too, (Y/n).”

You looked up, surprised by her words, “He took your kingdom from you, didn't he?”

“ You!” Miranda moved closer, though you hardly noticed because you were focused on her eyes that were duller than they were down in the village but just as clear, bright and brimming with tears, “He took you from me. He took us away from each other, (Y/n). I'm not innocent in it either, I...I could've done something about it, but I didn't and it was the biggest mistake I could've made in my entire existence. And I think about it more than I care to admit, I think about you...wondering what sort of life we could've shared together had I made better choices. I'm...I'm sorry, (Y/n).”

Miranda was close enough to touch you now, and this time she didn't hesitate nor did you pull away when both of her hands cupped your cheeks, making you shiver. “Miranda...”

Miranda's hands tightened on your face, obviously thinking you were about to argue again but you were tired of arguing with her, over this...before she could speak, you took Miranda by surprise and pulled her into a tight embrace, both of your arms around her waist and you caught her when her entire body sagged in your arms. You had no idea what was going to happen after this, but that little piece of you that longed for the closure you never got...began to grow.

“I'll stay.”

[cherry-lipbalm]

survival of the fittest. spencer reid.

5.3k words.

masterlist

“ If they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them. ”

three hours earlier

Y/N was ready to go home - more than ready. They'd gotten back from a hard hitting case in Boston, touching down by early afternoon meant they were expected back at the HQ, which henceforth meant piles of paperwork were in their future. Y/N knew her complaining would only go reprimanded by Hotch, so she kept to herself in her cubicle, shoved into the corner of the bullpen, and desperate to get the documents out of the way.

Over the scribbling of her pen, she heard the mutterings of Morgan and Reid's conversation beside the latter's desk not too far away from her own. She sighed in defeat, because she knew she wouldn't be able to resist joining them, especially when the opportunity arose to take the mickey at Spencer.

When it did inevitably arise, she pushed herself away from her desk and allowed the wheels on her chair to escort her over to the men. At the sound of jagged rolling, Morgan stepped aside to make space for her to insert herself, a snide smug painted on his face.

"Did I just hear the word 'Spencer' and 'girl' in the same sentence?" She asked, leaning on the armrest to shove her shit-eating grin into Spencer's face; he only rolled his eyes and gave an insincere 'ha ha'.

"Your ears did not deceive you, baby girl," Morgan said, receiving a smack on the arm from Spencer. The warning stare he gave him almost made Y/N stop pestering him. Only almost.

"Oh my! Spill the beans, who is she?" Y/N gushed, steering her chair even closer to the Doctor while Morgan watched on amusedly.

"There isn't a she," he grumbled, head bowed to his paperwork in the hopes that if he ignored the Agents they'd just go away.

"...a he?"

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, snapping his head upwards.

"Hey! It's no skin off my nose, Spence."

He groaned, then turned back to his work and allowed for Morgan and Y/N to exchange a glance as they both tried to hold back snickers at their friend's flustered existence.

She stayed huddled around with them for a few more minutes, but as soon as she saw the clock hit 5, she jumped from her chair and kicked it back to her desk. Announcing that she was off, she began to gather and pack her things. While she did so, she heard Spencer make the same announcement.

"You're off earlier than usual," she called back, "let me guess... Doctor Who marathon?"

Spencer's smile gave him away; Y/N chuckled and draped her coat over her shoulders, standing by his desk while he adjusted his satchel.

"Busy man," she commented, then proceeded to listen to whatever sci-fi related ramble Spencer was emitting, interjecting with exclamations of intrigue or surprise whenever she deemed suitable (they were all timed guesses, but she didn't waver once).

"...Christopher Eccleston is actually the second favourite, despite the fact that a lot of people skip his season, but he has a 52% popularity–"

"Wait, why do people skip his season?"

"Oh, because he preceded David Tennant. He's the favourite, with a 69% popularity."

"Ha, 69," Y/N muttered under her breath with a crude smirk. Spencer only gave a restrained smile and raised his eyebrows. The two fell into a silence, except from a 'thank you' Y/N said softly when Spencer opened the door for her.

The elevator button illuminated under her touch, and they stood in front of the steel doors, awaiting their opening. Y/N tapped her foot senselessly, and Spencer rolled on the balls of his heels.

In amidst the silence, Y/N looked up to Spencer and they exchanged a warm smile. The beep of the elevator distracted them, and after stepping aside to let people out, they ambled in and finally relaxed when the doors closed on them again.

"Today was relentless," Y/N sighed, checking her watch.

"Have any plans?" Spencer asked, out of courtesy.

"Well, I have to head to the repair store to pick up my phone, but after that there's leftover Chinese food in the fridge with my name written all over it," she chuckled.

"What happened? To your phone?"

"Morgan happened," was all she said. Spencer joined in on her judgement even though he didn't know the story, he did know that 'Derek Morgan' was simply a reason in itself that didn't warrant an explanation. Then, they lulled in the return of silence.

It wasn't until the elevator jerked and came to a sudden stop that the two spoke again.

"That's not right," Spencer muttered, and he immediately began to jab at the ground floor button before Y/N smacked his hands away, because she was already deep in a panic, so it was even worse when the next astounding jerk hit. She screamed when they were thrown off balance, and hoped she hadn't got a concussion from where she collided with the back wall upon the motion.

"What the hell?" She panted. They came to a still, but it made her even more nervous because she knew they hadn't been in there long enough to reach their floor. That, and the fact that they had just ripped through the air at about a hundred miles per hour.

Spencer's eyes furrowed, and he licked his lips in the way he did when he was focused on something. Judging by the way he assessed the doors, Y/N thought he was about to pull some thwarted stunt, or more likely reel off some facts about steel.

"I think something's wrong," he mumbled.

"No shit, Sherlock,"

"Ah, elementary my dear Watson," Spencer replied so quickly that Y/N was almost inclined to believe it made any sense.

"Did you know that Sherlock Holmes never actually said that? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle never wrote those words, they were only adapted into the movies years later-"

"Oh my god, Spencer, are we stuck in this elevator?" Y/N shrieked, her knuckles whitening under her tight clutch of the hand rails on the wall: half from fear and the other from frustration.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so."

Upon Spencer's bluntness, she stepped forward, desperate for any attempt of an escape plan, she began pressing the ground floor button repeatedly; when that didn't work, she resorted to aimlessly smashing all the buttons on offer. 

"That's– that's really not gonna do anything," Spencer said in the background.

"Do you have a better idea?" She snapped, turning to him with a glare before resuming her actions.

"Try the - try that one!" He pointed to the red button with an alarm bell engraved on it, and Y/N felt stupid under his stare for not noticing it before. She pressed it, and the ringing noise that emitted from it seemed to do nothing but that: ring. She was certain someone was supposed to come to their aid through a speaker, so she pushed it continuously, but derived nothing further. At least she gained some comfort in the panic of Spencer's voice that told her he was shitting himself as much as she was.

"It's not doing anything!" She cried, and when he leaned over her and pressed it too, she bit her tongue and raised her eyebrows to tell him 'see?', infuriated at the fact that he thought she could be somehow pushing a button wrong. But, then again, she'd have been even more angry if he'd done it and it had worked.

When it didn't, she alternated to the next best thing.

"Help!" She yelled, slamming her palms against the doors. She didn't know what floor they'd been wedged at (or even if they were just floating in some space between levels), but someone had to hear them; they were bound to...right?

Spencer seemed to think so at least, because he was joining her in pounding his fists on the steel. Sooner rather than later, the harsh echo made Y/N's ears ring, so she stopped and took a step back.

"Well, this is great," she sighed, slumping in a lean on the wall as she rubbed her temples.

"I'm gonna miss Doctor Who," Spencer whined, pouting.

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him and told him to call somebody. She was sure she'd seen JJ just before they left, still huddled in her office; hopefully she'd be able to call maintenance and they could be released from this death trap of a machine.

"I can't, my phone died. Use yours."

"What?"

"My phone's flat, can you use yours?"

Y/N just stared at him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because the adrenaline rush of panic can make memories a bit hazy, but her skin was flustering under the rage she was feeling, her forehead was already beginning to perspire and the walls were so small and entrapping and - is it hot in here or just her?

"My phones at the store," she reminded him through gritted teeth, and watched his composure fall in both comprehension and defeat.

"Great," he remarked.

"Oh, like it's my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine."

"And it's not mine either so don't talk to me like that!"

It was only a short exchange, but it made Y/N's blood boil; if they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them.

Spencer gulped, and Y/N was sure that had he the opportunity to he would be storming away right about now, but unfortunately for the both of them that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. The wonderful reality of this hitting Y/N, she kicked off her shoes and planted her bum down on the floor.

Spencer looked at her curiously while she did this, then quirked his lip and proceeded to do the same. He used his satchel as a pillow to support his head, and sighed loudly (it seemed deliberate just how exaggerative it was).

"No one is ever gonna find us here," Y/N said.

"We're not dying–"

"You don't know that. We could be suffocating as we speak-"

"Suffocation is impossible in elevators: the cars are designed not to be airtight and there's vents that allow air to move in and out," he pointed up at the grated opening above Y/N's head. At being proved wrong by Spencer and his big, unfathomable brain, she crossed her arms much like a stroppy toddler and even pouted her lip.

"We could still die," she mumbled.

"The statistics of that are still very unlikely; in fact, the people that die the most in elevators are elevator technicians themselves. An average of 26 people die in elevators every year in America–"

"And you're ready to be one of those 26?"

"We're not going to be. We won't suffocate, and it hasn't fallen."

"Yet," she said. "Plus, theres other ways to die. Like, I don't know, murder perhaps?" She said with a potent glare in his direction. He gave her a blank stare partnered with a sarcastic smile, one that only made Y/N more devoted to her other-ways-to-die initiative.

"We just have to wait a while... Did you know the longest duration of time someone was stuck in an elevator was 41 hours? Nicholas White. And all he had to eat was a packet of Rolaids."

More than accustomed to tuning out Spencer's rambles, Y/N barely heard what he was talking about, in a dazed trance where she was focused intently on where the paint didn't match the wall, she was so invested she almost missed what he said.

"Wait... oh my god. Do you have food?" She asked, sitting up from her subsided posture.

Spencer's face softened in dread, which didn't bring any aid nor optimism to their situation.

She watched him sit forward, shoving hands into the pockets of his blazer, coat, trousers and pulling out nothing but a few crumpled pieces of paper. Y/N matched him with an empty gum wrapper and a Walmart receipt displaying a concerning amount of pregnancy tests she had purchased last month.

"Do I even wanna know?" Spencer asked, chucking it back to the ground with a grimace as if it was riddled with germs (it probably was but, still).

"All you need to know is that I'm not pregnant," Y/N scoffed, almost amicably, but her eyebrows creased and she was back to a fuck everything this sucks expression in less than a second.

"Well we can't survive on this."

"You really haven't brought any food?" Spencer pestered.

"No, I had Chinese leftovers on the cards for tonight. And I don't see you offering anything up; what's your excuse?"

Spencer only groaned, again. He kicked his feet out and let his head fall onto the wall back in the same place. He ran a hand through his hair, and the scarce gel he had used to keep it in place disassembled around his face in random strays of curls. The sight of him relaxing like he was settling in for the night didn't appease Y/N one bit.

While Spencer closed his eyes, Y/N got to her feet and decided slamming on the door again was a better pastime. Spencer, however, did not agree.

At the banging, Spencer's eyes shot open and his body shook in alarm. His eyes darted around the space frantically until they landed on Y/N's figure aligned with the doors on which she was unleashing hell. If yelling could open an elevator, they'd have been out in a jiffy.

"I think we've established that doesn't help," Spencer said.

"Then you help!" She shouted, continuing the thrashing of metal.

"How?"

"I don't know!" Her shriek echoed, and she yet again gave up on the violence. "Use that big brain of yours and find us a way out of here."

"The 7 steps to surviving being stuck on an elevator are fundamental; we've already done them. They include pressing the open button, the alarm and call button. We still have our light source, otherwise finding one would have been number two. We've tried yelled for help. The only one we haven't done is stayed calm," he said with a heavy emphasis in her direction. Currently, she was the epitome of panic.

Y/N furrowed a brow at him, "That's six. What's number seven?"

She watched Spencer inhale deeply before he told her, "wait it out."

Y/N felt her heart sink. The possibility of her going insane while being confined within this space was only increasing as the minutes passed by. And with that, she felt like oxygen was depleting alongside it. She took a big breath to remind her that there was still air to breathe, and Spencer caught sight of it.

"Are... are you claustrophobic?"

"No!"

His eyes widened at her outburst, and he even raised his hands in defence should the situation present itself, which was looking pretty inevitable.

"I'm not, I just... get a little... panicked, that's all."

"You don't say," he murmured, and —with a grunt— got to his feet again. He treaded towards the damned doors. Y/N thought he was going to bang on them again, and she took front-row seat on the floor to watch the imprudent, futile attempt. Instead, Spencer's long arachnid-like fingers dug into the crevice of the doors and he tried to pry them open. This was an even vainer approach; his strained groans showed such.

"It's no use. We're gonna be here for a while. I can offer you a juice carton," Y/N spoke, making Spencer turn attentively at the word 'juice'. He looked down to where she was rummaging through her bag and depositing a few random objects while she did so. In a very Mary Poppins like fashion, the entities incessantly kept coming and coming, gathering in remarkable piles on the floor. There seemed to be more things than space available, but then they were trapped in an elevator and space was one of the many luxuries the agents realised they had taken for granted. Despite his astonishment at the growing belongings, there seemed to be a concerning lack of food present.

She was, however, holding out an apple juice carton, and Spencer figured that you get what you're given. So while her attention focused to the remnants of whatever was in her bag, Spencer punctured the carton with the straw, and began sucking. He made a squeal of surprise and relief when he saw her pull out a feebly wrapped, half eaten bag of crackers.

"Oh, I forgot about these," she announced, with the first smile Spencer had seen from her since the elevator had broken down.

He leaned down to grab the bag, dusting off the sprayed crumbs and then took a seat to Y/N's left. He left space between them for chivalrous purposes and also to allow space for the bag of crackers to sit.

They made attempts to ration the snack, but it soon developed into an every man for himself situation when Y/N noticed Spencer had started to take two at once.

She wasn't even hungry anymore, but the hunger for beating Spencer at something prevailed and disregarded any logical thought that they ought to save food, so she dove in again for another cracker. Unluckily, she did so at the same time as Spencer, so it made for an awkward encounter when their hands collided but neither was willing to give up their slot in the bag.

Eventually (because they didn't want the other to notice their blush), they gave up when time ran too long and reached a compromise with halving the cracker. Y/N gave Spencer the bigger half of her failed equal snap, but neither of them addressed it.

Neither of them addressed anything actually, for the next... god knows how long they were cooped up in there. They sat in a pleasant silence, free from any awkward glances or trepidations: it was both from the fact that they were in their own heads, and a serendipitous comfort in one another.

"I'm sorry you're going to miss your Doctor Who... thing," was what broke the silence.

"Oh, it's okay. I can just watch it on repeat tomorrow."

"Okay," Y/N laughed softly, and they floated into another quiet.

"I'm sorry you're stuck in an elevator."

"Ha! Me too."

"When we get out of here maybe we can go for Chinese food," Spencer suggested, craning his neck to look at her with a discreet smile.

"Sure," she agreed. "By the time we get out my food at home might have rotten anyway."

And then time after that just... passed. In Spencer's satchel he had an uncanny assortment of reading material to thrive on, and amid her odd collection of pretty much everything she had ever owned, Y/N found an old MP3 player and some earphones (only the left ear worked, but it was as good entertainment as she was going to get).

There comes a point, though, when one person can only listen to so much music from their teen years; Y/N's taste back then was... questionable, to say the least. And her earphone seemed to agree with her, because it gave out just when the unmistakable sound of an NSYNC song began.

"Ugh, just when it was getting good!" She complained, tugging the bud from her ear and throwing it onto the miscellaneous pile.

Spencer's head quirked to Y/N, but his eyes only followed after he had finished a sentence on his page. When he did, he saw her curiously leaning over his shoulder and squinting at the words.

"You can borrow it if you want," he said. "This is my third time reading it and I have others."

He gestured to his pile, which had evolved into a makeshift bookcase in the corner of the elevator. A few pages were torn, and the spines were so worn down that she could barely make out what the titles were. Not from a lack of TLC, but rather copious amounts of it; having been read over and over again. 

"No, it's okay. You continue, I'll just... meditate, or something."

"It's a good book," Spencer said, and he sounded like he was trying to persuade her, so she gave in and nodded. Readjusting her posture, she focused again on where the paint didn't meet the wall as she listened to the one thing she thought she wouldn't ever be able to stand: Spencer Reid's voice.

———

Which, to her and Reid's surprise, she found quite calming. Her hidden envy and not so hidden annoyance with his ability to reel off facts and wisdom like he was only recalling what he had for dinner hindered any fondness Y/N could associate with his voice. Until now, that is.

He was reading Strangers on a Train, supposedly his third favourite book, and they were reaching "the best bit" according to Spencer, but then every bit within the past forty five minutes since he'd started reading had been "the best bit", so Y/N wasn't sure.

But she's pretty calm, as calm as she can be stuck in an elevator, so she's actually thankful she has Spencer of all people beside her. She knew that if Morgan was in his place they'd have attempted murder at least a couple times by now; not to say that Y/N hadn't considered stabbing Spencer at all, but there's only so much damage a blunt pencil at the bottom of her bag could do.

So, she's calm. She's barely following the story because she only joined in halfway through, but she's grasped the basis of it because Spencer reads so eloquently and so well that he's practically painted the vividness of the narrative for her, even though he vouches it's down to Patricia Highsmith's words, which is true, but Spencer has a role in it too.

One thing Spencer recites makes Y/N wonder why she's never had him read to her before.

"People, feelings, everything! Double! Two people in each person. There's also a person exactly the opposite of you, like the unseen part of you, somewhere in the world, and he waits in ambush."

The story portrays an uncanny resemblance to the plots of the abundant crime scenes they analyse daily (Y/N wonders how Spencer comes home from work only to read about the same gory instances): the same mannerisms, behaviours and intricate understanding of criminal attitudes. It's accuracy is so astounding that Y/N asks if the author was ever a profiler of sorts.

Although it's selfish, because Y/N is not the real victim, she wished there was some way Highsmith's words could spring into real life and provide tainted rose coloured spectacles to which she could observe reality through. In some sick way, Y/N needed to see beauty in things like murder. She sometimes forgot that what they were doing had a purpose, and they tended to be the good guys. But there was no writing beautiful enough for Spencer to read and glorify the crimes with.

But even Y/N thinks Spencer's reading could help her see life through more of the silver lining rather than shrouded by the dark cloud that accompanied it.

The moment of rare serenity within Spencer's words is suspended, however, when he suddenly stops with no obvious justification. Y/N wonders if she's missed something profound within the story again so she goes to read over them on the page this time (because she's been rather entranced in Spencer's voice rather than the actual words), except when she looks up she sees a look of horror depicted on Spencer's face: one that doesn't register with her primarily because what's happening in the story is rather quite mundane compared to the dismay on his face. It's so poignant that she thinks something must be fatally wrong.

"What is it?" She asks, sitting up (and away because she thinks he may be about to vomit. But no, the real reason is even more horrific).

"I need to pee."

Y/N gasps; she hadn't even conjectured this predicament. It was a basic human necessity, how had she not anticipated this would happen? At first she thought, hey it's not that bad, better him than me— he can stand. Until she realises that there isn't really anywhere to stand.

"Oh no," she whispers, and he looks at her dauntingly. "You shouldn't have drank that apple juice."

"What was I supposed to do, bathe in it?" He scorns, and the two connect in an unwavering exchange eye contact with one another. Y/N dreads looking away in fear of what he'll do when she has her back turned.

So, like I said, Y/N was pretty calm, and I'd say Spencer was too; reading was a delight, and he found Y/N almost as endearing (almost). Life was bearable until Spencer needed to pee.

And it is here that they throw all peace out the window (if there was one) and give up on step number seven, and instead say hello to their old friend step number five: frantic yelling.

The energy pent up from lazing around reading and being read to is released fairly effectively. Y/N thinks she's never screamed so loud in her life, and Spencer knows he hasn't: entrapment and a full bladder can take one hell of a toll on a man.

And when the profusion of footsteps and the clanging of doors sounds, it is glorious. It is what they imagine heaven to sound like and more. Y/N collapses to the ground in relief, and Spencer throws his hands up in a prayer of thanks (even though he doesn't necessarily believe, but he is just so high on adrenaline and the discomfort of needing a wee that he'd just about believe anything now if it meant he could get to a bathroom).

"You guys okay in there?" A voice calls in from above them (Spencer genuinely thinks it's God) and Y/N has never been more happy to hear Derek Morgan.

"We're good! We're good! Oh my god, get us out of here please!"

"Right on it, baby. Bet y'all thought you were gonna die in there, huh?"

"Worse," Y/N called, "I thought I was gonna have to see Spencer's dick!"

Morgan laughed (music to their ears: any voice that wasn't each other's fit that criteria in that moment), and then told her he didn't want to know. Spencer and Y/N heard him holler behind him, and even more footsteps approached. Y/N couldn't see much from the slither between the doors that had just been pried open, since they had fallen a considerable distance from their floor. What she could see was only half of Morgan's face while he knelt on the ground.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, trying to gain some understanding for the reason behind missing his Doctor Who marathon.

"Power cut. The whole city's in blackout."

"You're kidding," Y/N replied, then turned. "A whole lotta people just risked that 1 in 26."

"Us included," Spencer said.

They recognised the voices of the maintenance team, and even a few uniforms of firefighters that worked on opening the doors with as much force as they could muster. Y/N looked again to the wall and paint mismatch, finding it too unsettling to look at their rescue attempt (that had way too much potential to go wrong) and even more unsettling to look at Spencer who was practically cradling his crotch.

"Ladies first!" A fireman called, and his hand reached into the space they had managed to (barely) increase, hoping that it wouldn't prove to be too difficult. From what Morgan told them, Spencer wouldn't have any trouble getting through it if they had halved the space ("the kid's a sherbet stick, I'm telling you").

"No, we've got a man here who's about to explode," Y/N joked, forgetting that the word 'explode' is a term one should use lightly within the headquarters of the FBI. She was blissfully reminded of this when the few surrounding agents brandished their guns. They almost didn't let them out until Spencer yelled that if he didn't get to a bathroom that instant he would give them a real reason to get their guns out.

So he was lifted out first, falling into Morgan's arms the chance he got to. He, somehow, managed to wait until he saw Y/N definitely leave the elevator before racing off down the hallway. Maintenance didn't even bother telling him that the doors have been locked because officially work finished three hours ago; they figured he had enough vigour in him to knock a wall down, never mind a door.

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked Y/N, lifting her up onto her own to feet. She's given a shock blanket, which is a pretty cool souvenir.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Miraculously. I don't know how you survived in there with him; I'd go insane."

"Eh," she chuckled, "he's not too bad."

———

After gathering their belongings, Y/N and Spencer make their way to leave work, again.

Morgan's nonchalant explanation of the blackout is in no way accurate to the genuine portrayal of, what Y/N can only describe as, a thriller movie come to life. She's looking out the wide scale windows in the bullpen room and can only see her reflection. It's creepy. Skittishly, she jumps when Spencer's image shows up behind her own. 

"Jesus, haven't I had enough near death experiences tonight?" She asks, holding a hand over her heart that she's sure just kickstarted (for various reasons).

"Sorry," he laughs. Placing his hands in his pockets, Y/N can sense he's more relaxed now that he's peed and no longer trapped within the restrictions of one metre.

They smile, then look out again to the darkened abyss before them. Y/N has never seen the city so quiet, yet she knows it's anything but. Once she steps outside it's bound to be hectic central.

"You normally get the subway, what are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I guess I'll just walk," Spencer shrugs.

"Absolutely not. I'll drive you home."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that—"

"Spence, I just spent the last three hours in a confined space with you, I'm sure I can do twenty minutes more," she said. "Get your stuff ready, we can head off now."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to walk out the bullpen, her heels reverberating throughout the room. Spencer watched her stride out by her reflection in the window, as to not be caught staring.

"If my car breaks down I'm gonna commit murder!"

Spencer laughed loudly, which made Y/N smile as she passed the kitchenette. When he continued to chuckle to himself he realised he wouldn't mind another three more hours stuck with her— at least he'd have an excuse if the car broke down. Maybe if he set off now he could get there in time to beat Y/N to her car and slash the tyres. He kindly reminded himself that that's illegal while he retrieved his satchel off the back of his chair and strutted out the office.

He wasn't too far behind Y/N when he suggested getting a Chinese on the way back.

"Is that a date?"

"If eating a Chinese takeaway in your car is your idea of a date," he sang.

"It very much is," Y/N grinned irrefutably.

He held the door open for her, she said thank you, and their giddy (dare I say lovesick) smiles dropped when they faced the elevator.

They've taken the stairs every day since.

fin.

[boxofbadaddiction]

All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You

Song Inspired

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Sexual References. Swearing. War. Angst with a happy ending.

War was fast approaching. People were running scared, others disappearing at random. Everyone was on edge and looking for something, anything, to bring comfort. Something to distract themselves, even if only for a moment, from the horror of their reality.

For [Y/N] and Fred, that comfort was found in one another.

The night before the battle saw members of the Order organising, coming together to discuss possible strategies in the fight to come. Following a particularly gut wrenching speech from Lupin about "preparing for the inevitable", which everyone knew from the look of his eyes he meant the unavoidable deaths that will occur, the room fell silent.

Fred and [Y/N] turned their attention to one another as if in slow motion. Frightened and teary-eyed expressions mirrored by the other. It was the first time she had ever seen him so vulnerable. As members began to disperse Fred reached his hand out for her to take. Not a word was spoken as the two ascended the staircase of the home currently being used as Headquarters for the Order, finding refuge in a room Fred had occupied for the past three nights.

Releasing her grip on his hand [Y/N] entered the dimly lit space first as Fred closed the door gently behind him, leaning his weight back against it. He watched her as she turned back to meet his gaze.

[Y/N]s chest began to rise and fall as panicked breaths took over, shoulders shuddering as tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Appearing as the embodiment of sorrow itself. Freds head fell to the side sadly as a defeated breath escaped his throat. Heart aching at the sight.

In an instant the two were closing the space between them, lips crashing in a frantic kiss. His hands came to the nape of her neck and hers bunched in the fabric of his shirts collar.

Tongues entwining hungrily as their hands began to roam the others body, discarding various articles of clothing in their wake.

Slowly stepping backwards [Y/N] began blindly leading them towards the bed, stopping momentarily to kick away their pants that'd slung around their ankles.

Fred seized the moment to take control, lifting [Y/N] with a firm grip to her ass from the ground. Her legs immediately wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck. Fred collapsed the pair onto the bed hovering mere millimetres above her as they proceeded to rid the other of their final items of clothing.

Freds mouth traced her entire body as if mapping her every detail with his lips.

Their bodies entwined and writhed together in perfect sync. Soft moans, gasping breaths and declarations of love filled the thick air. They cherished every movement, every taste and sound shared by the other as if they had an eternity to do so. Though it very well felt like nothing more than borrowed time.

That night suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago as [Y/N] stood pale and cold before the gathered Weasley family who mourned the loss of their son, brother and best friend. Whilst she denied the fate of her lover laid before her.

Soft gasps and declarations of her lost love were the only sounds to peirce the thick polluted air as she crumpled in front of his body. Tears pouring from her eyes at the sight.

The moment replayed in her mind every second of her days. His lifeless form plaguing more than just her dreams. It plagued her entire existence. It was too much to bare. Not knowing where to turn next [Y/N] responded in the only way she could think to.

She ran.

There was nothing left for her there. Nothing but heartache and pain and the tormenting memory of what had once been. She left for her home country, with no intention of ever returning.

But fate had other ideas.

11 years later found [Y/N] wandering the streets of Diagon Alley. It was just as it always had been, before the war. Shops bustling with the life of families searching for their various books and essentials for the beginning of a new school year. She were delighted to see so many of the original stores that were destroyed during the second war restored to their former grandeur. As she strolled through the crowed street gazing through the display windows, she was brought back to her old days. Back to all those school years when she'd come to collect her books and supplies. Mind running with itself through the many memories of her youth blissfully unaware of the busy bodies of people around.

Until...

"[Y/N]?!" a tall redheaded man barrelled through the street towards her.

"George?!" She found herself suddenly wrapped tight within his arms, it felt just like it always had. It felt warm and safe. Like being home. [Y/N] hadn't seen him since the war. She hadn't seen anyone. Right now she were struggling to see reason why, well more how, she'd stayed away. God, had she always missed him this badly?

"What are you doing here?" [Y/N] asked, finally breaking the hug though somewhat reluctantly.

"Well, the shop's back up and running so I'm living down the street again. It's my day off though so I'm out scoping for new ideas." He said smiling. "But what about you? I haven't seen you in years now suddenly you're here, what gives [Y/L/N]?" He playfully pushed her shoulder.

"I'm shopping. No better place to after all" the girl winked.

Laughing he kept looking at her like she'd come back from the dead. Though given the way she had disappeared after the Battle I guess to him it was like she had.

"Merlin, there's so many questions on my mind right now. Just...oh God, how have you been? Where Have you been!?" His eyes were searching her face. For what, she didn't know.

"Oh ah...well I mean, I've been okay. I moved back home after...everything." her expression was solem at the memory of the war. His, sympathetic and understanding.

"Ya know" he took a step closer to his old friend "last I checked that 'home' you always talked about was in a different bloody country! So you obviously aren't here just 'shopping'." She was unable to control the blush which spread across her features, brought on by the mischief he had painted over his face, trying to goad the truth from her. She bit her lip trying to hold back a smile. Damn that Weasley charm!

"So, come on, don't keep me hanging here. What have you been up to?"

"Well actually I ah..."

"MUM!"

Both turned in the direction of the call from a young boy, one with incredible [Y/E/C] eyes and firey red hair.

"MUM! did you see they have the new Windbreak on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies!?"

"No, I didn't sweety" she could feel Georges eyes on the both of them but was too scared to face him. Knowing the question that was going to be on his face when she did.

"Can I go to the Magical Menagerie now to pick my Owl?"

"Of course. I'll meet you there shortly, be safe."

The boy hurried off through the busy crowd once more. Disappearing from sight.

[Y/N] turned slowly back to see George staring after her son. Mouth agape, twitching slightly as he tries to find the words to say something. Anything. It can't be? He looked so much like...surely that's not...

"George?" She asked tentatively reaching slowly to touch his arm.

He shook his head trying to break free of his trance.

"So you're ah...you're a mother. Wow that's...how old is he?" He turned his gaze to hers.

Heart beating fast in her chest a tightness formed in her throat.

Offering a weak smile as her eyes start to turn red she replied, "He'll be 11 in a few short months. He just received his Hogwarts letter."

"Wow that's..." the pieces were falling into place behind his eyes as he looks back to where the young boy had ran off. "11?" He turns back to the mother, disbelief and a little anger evident all through his expression.

"George..." she took a step toward him but he moved away from the touch.

"[Y/N], tell me he's not..."

Tears were filling her eyes now as she noticed his had begun to turn just as red. Fighting back tears. He knows the answer, aside from the eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. Of himself. But he still needs to ask.

"He is, George." Tears finally spilling over and rolling down her cheek she watched him, chest aching at the confession.

"11 years and you never thought to tell us? You never thought I'd...that'd we'd...for Merlin's sake, [Y/N]! He's.." over come with emotion George's breathing had become rapid. He's angry and panicking he keeps looking between her and where the boy ran to. He's crying, running his hands frantically through his hair as he desperately tries to make some sense of this situation. 11 years. For 11 years he's had a nephew. For 11 years she hid the truth from his family. For 11 years she hid the last remaining part of Fred from them. From him. How can he begin to process this?

"George, please, I'm so sorry I didn't...I couldn't..." she were clinging to any excuse that rushed through her head. Fighting for a reason good enough to justify the decision not to tell anyone, but she couldn't. She knew she was wrong, and now could see just how badly, it was all over George. In his tears and the whites of his knuckles and the emotion fighting on his breath. She'd never even been able to convince herself after more than a decade of arguing between heart and mind. So how could she possibly convince him now?

"I'm sorry, I panicked! I thought it was the right thing at the time!" Not a lie, but definitely not a good enough defence.

"The war was over, Fred was gone and I found out I was pregnant only a week later. What was I supposed to do!?"

"You were supposed to trust us!" George was nothing but angry now. He was looking at her with such rage in his eyes it terrified her. He began shouting as he approached. [Y/N] was shaking and walking backwards.

"You were supposed to know that we're family! We always had been, even before you had his baby. We would have helped you. Cared for you. Cared for him! I mean for Gods sake [Y/N] he's the only piece of Fred left on this fucking planet and you hid him from us!"

"George please, I'm so sorry just...just please stop yelling." Her hands were out in defence as she gazed over to the group of passers by whom had stopped to view the scene currently unfolding before them. People were watching, silently asking if she needed help. He looked around, realising he needed to calm himself. She grabbed his hand as he looked away, trying to control his breathing. She'd never seen George so upset. He was usually the most understanding and level-headed of the pair. This side of him scared her, and she hated herself for bringing it out from him.

"Hey..." she spoke, barely in a whisper, reaching to stroke the arm of his hand which she were holding.

"What's his name" George interrupted, still not daring to look to her.

She smiled softly.

"His name's Marcos. From-"

"Your uncle." George nodded. "The one who raised you. I remember him." A strain was evident in his voice as he tried to move the conversation forward without losing his temper.

"He has a middle name." [Y/N] blurted out. "He ah...he has a middle name."

He finally looked down at her. His mouth clamped so tight it was a thin line. "Mmhmm. Yeah, alright. What is it?"

"It's George." She smiled at him. "It was Fred's idea. He used to joke about us getting married and growing old. Whenever he spoke about children there was one name that always came back to him. He said he wanted to name one after you..." he was crying again, head bowed while silent sad laughter shook through his shoulders. She moved to stand infront of him. One hand gently stroking the side of his cheek as his hands traced circles on her arms. "He said it'd drive your Mum mad, having two of you around the house, and thought that was exactly the way it should be." He laughed and they embraced each other, Georges head resting against the crook of her neck.

"I'm so sorry George. I should never have kept any of this from you. From your family."

"Our family" he corrected. "You're apart of us too. Just like he is." He finished standing straight once again but never letting go completely.

"I promise I'll tell everyone. I'll do it tomorrow. I should never have kept him from you. Nor you from him. I was stupid to think I was alone in this. I know you're all what's best for him. And I'm going to mend my mistake. I don't expect anyone to greet me with open arms. And I know this will take time to win you all back, but it's the right thing to do."

George was looking with nothing but cherish in his eyes. He was devastated yes, to say the least. But he had to look past that now. He had his best friend back, and what's more, he has a nephew! He is an Uncle! And he had 11 years worth of pranks and mischief to make up for, he wasn't about to waste a second.

"Can I meet him" he asked, trying not to sound as eager as he was feeling.

"Of course."

"The menagerie wasn't it? He was going to?" He said as they began walking.

"Oh, yes but there's not a chance in the world that's where he's gone." She smiled knowingly. George furrowed his brows at the comment. [Y/N] led him on through the crowds in Diagon Alley. Past the Broom store, past Olivanders, past the Magical Menagerie. All the way down to the bright and lively store of number 93, Weasley Wizard Wheezes. George began to laugh.

"You're not serious?"

"It's safe to say he has inherited his Father, and Uncles talent for mischief." She winked opening the door.

The store was crowded, but she knew him better than anyone and knew exactly where he'd be.

"Your store is his favourite you know?"

George smiled trying to see over the crowd of people within the store to catch a glimpse of him.

"His favourite section..." she pointed over her shoulder with a grin. "...fireworks." grasping his hand and pulling George along behind her.

True to form, that's exactly where he was. Startled by his Mothers sudden appearance, and the stern smiling expression on her face the boy hid two boxes, of what no doubt were the biggest and most uncontanable fireworks the Twins had created, behind his back feigning innocence.

"Oh! Mum! I ahhhh...I'm glad you found me, you see I couldn't seem to find the menagerie and I got a bit lost amongst all the people so I ahhh...i just sort of ducked in here to ummm"

"Save it, Marcos." She raised her hand and chuckled. George was beaming, he was just like Fred, although hadn't quiet perfected his lying ability yet. At the moment it was about as strong as his mothers...aka patheticly weak.

[Y/N] crouched down in front of him and Marcos let his hands fall by his sides as he bowed his head in defeat "I'm done for aren't I?"

"Not this time", Marcos head rocketed up to stare awestruck into her eyes. Surely he hadn't heard that properly?

"Marc, I'd like to introduce you to someone...the man I was talking to earlier."

The boy looked up behind his mother and his eye's widened. "You're the owner of the store! I hadn't realised before not with...you know, you not being near that giant bust of yours out front..." George laughed. "But Mum...how ever do you know him!?" He was near shaking with excitement as he stared back at his mother.

"Well sweety, there's-" she was interrupted as a small group of people entered the firework section.

"Perhaps you'd like to do this upstairs [Y/N], away from interruptions that is" George whispered in her ear. "We can use the flat" he said standing back against the wall he'd leaned on when they'd entered.

"Yes that would be best I think. Come on Marc, just follow George alright." Marcos was becoming increasingly worrisome. This whole scene screamed seriousness. Something he didn't care for at all, he much preferred to stay joking and happy. Another trait he'd unknowingly inherited from his Father.

They climbed the winding stairs of the Twins store into the flat where George shut the door behind them.

"Make yourself comfortable" he ushered towards the couch. "Anything to drink?" "No thank you, George" "how bout for you little man?" "Can I have a fire whiskey?" George laughed as [Y/N] looked sternly at her son. "Nevermind. I'm all good." He slouched down into the couch cushions.

Resuming her position from earlier the Mother kneeled before her son, and grasped his hands in hers whilst George stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets behind them. Head hung slightly.

"As I was saying, there's something I've needed to tell you. Something I should never have kept from you in the first place and it's time you knew." She took a deep breath. "George here well...we went to school together. We were very close."

"Well, what happened?" Marcos asked confusedly. "You hardly ever mention your school days." "I know. And you see...you remember the story I told you when you asked about your Father, Marc?" George became suddenly more alert, he hadn't thought about what she had told him during all of this...he sat on a neighbouring armchair, listening intently.

"You told me he died in the War, as a hero. Saving people." George felt his eyes sting with fresh tears but fought to control himself.

"That's right, honey, and it's true. Your Daddy died a very brave, strong, man. He helped save so many people."

"So what's this got to do with me meeting George?" He asked.

"Well...George here was your Daddy's brother. His twin."

"Really!?" Marcos asked excitedly. "I have an uncle?" He smiled at George.

"Well, more than one." George smirked with a raised brow.

"There's more?" Marcos was on the edge of his seat now "how many more?"

"At least 5." "Woah!" "You also have 3 aunts" George added. "Why haven't I met them? Can we go now!?" Marcos stood enthusiastically looking between the two adults. He was truly a fearless young man. That which his Mother adored.

"Uh no, not right now Marc but I'm hoping" she glanced at George, "sometime this week." "Definitely." He smiled. "So you're what my dad looked like? Mum doesn't have any photos, they were all burned in a house fire." "Well, pretty much, minus an ear of course." He said pointing to his wound.

"Wicked!" He smiled "how'd it happen!?" Marcos was cross legged on Georges coffee table sitting eagerly infront of his newly discovered Uncle. "Marc, that's rude, you can't just ask -" "it's okay, [Y/N]. Really. And I'll be happy to tell you. Everything." George was leaning in nearly as excited as his nephew. "Can you tell me all about Dad?" He asked with a cautious expression. "Like I'd leave him out" he scowled jokingly. [Y/N] had tears in her eyes. Seeing them so happy she couldn't believe that after the War she ran. How could one keep George from him?

Distracted by her own thoughts she hadn't realised her son was patiently waiting an answer to a question he'd asked. "Sorry?" "I said, can I stay with Uncle George tonight?" "Oh..." she looked at George who had the same pleading expression on his face as her son. "Only if it's okay with-" "of course it is!" George stood with a clap of his hands. Marcos was beaming once more at his uncle. "Well then I guess it's okay." The boys high fived excitedly and began to celebrate "BUT!" "here it comes" Marcos rolled his eyes and dropped his head. George looked between the pair slightly confused but ultimately he could guess what was coming.

"I want you on your BEST! behaviour. No mischief!" She scolded "I promise" Marcos pleaded. "See he promises" George wrapped an arm around Marc's shoulders as they both smiled. "The both of you!" She added "...oh." Georges mouth formed a thin line as he looked at [Y/N]. There goes 80% of his plans for the night. Although what she doesn't know wont really hurt her he thought with a smile.

After a while more talking, exchanging stories with George from school and hearing him talk about his newest inventions, as well as answering all questions Marcos had, [Y/N] had decided it was time to let the boys have their night together. Saying goodbye at the door she began yet another warning, having knew these boys too well. "And I mean it you two! Absolutely no! Mischief!" George put a hand on his heart and the other rested on Marcos back. "I solemnly swear" he winked.

Laughing she gave the boys a final hug and began desending the stores stairs when her ears were met with the sound of her sons celebratory cheers and the slap of a high five. Smiling she kept walking till met with the emptiness of Diagon Alley where only few people remained as stores were closing. Casting a loving look to the top window of number 93 she smiled. Everything was going to be okay. She stood contemplating for a moment when the unmistakable flash of fireworks issued from the window and her expression deadpanned. Hadn't been gone 5 minutes. She rolled her eyes. "It's harmless fun" she told herself, going to turn and continue on her way home when the sudden sound of glass breaking and sparks flying pulled her attention back to the top floor window which was now shattered as a firework whizzed down the dark street.

"Awesome!" Came her sons voice in celebration. "MARCOS! GEORGE!" She bellowed. Their heads poked immediately out from the window. [Y/N] threw her arms out wide, brows raised, silently asking the question...

The boys responded in sync "sorrrry Muuumm" "Sorrrry [Y/N/N]" rolling her eyes as she walked off, the firework still in view she laughed to herself.

"We're doomed."

Part II>>

[worldsover]

No More Drowning ft. Olivia Hye

length ✦ 7138

genres ✧ drunk hookup; outercourse; roommate!Olivia

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Perspiration deluges your white Taekwondo uniform. You make it fit loose so that it doesn’t stick to your skin. A refreshing breeze now annoys you as it whistles through your damn window that never sealed completely shut. At least you didn't need to turn on a fan today.

“Hey Captain,” you greet the commander of none. Hyejoo lies on a small blue couch, the only pristine spot in the living room. Her outfit suggests that there would be the usual cool air expected of the season but the fall is humid and stuck in the climate of a couple months past. It’s incredible that there is not a bead of sweat formed on her face. You study her and somehow she’s handsome in your eyes which is probably not a word others would use to describe the stunning woman reclining with her feet up.

“Wassup,” she says.

“You gonna-”

“Clean up?  Yeah, yeah, lemme finish this round.”

Her face is welded to her screen though her eyes dart around maybe holding a hint of remorse at the clothes that litter the cramped living space and the dishes in the sink.

“I’m not an impostor! Ahhh!” Hyejoo shouts into the screen. Certainly none of her actions follow through on that guilt.

“How'd this even happen? You got pyjamas on the floor, shirts on the chairs. You a camgirl or something?"

"I'm a camgirl? I can see your tits dude.” Cover your pectoral cleavage in faux shame. ”Yo, I swear I just saw green-"

"And all these energy drinks? Come on Hyejoo, no way your heart lasts more than a year.”

“Wow, meanie.”

You look at your watch. “It’s like 9:40.”

“Shit, right, the marketing test.” Hyejoo’s fingers show no pretense that she’ll stop playing. She definitely didn't see your disapproving face. “Oh relax, I still got time,” she says anyway.

Finally, she looks up at you and her brows crease. “What?” you ask.

"You look good today."

Your heart floats just a little. You always appreciate the little compliments she gives. They were just ones that friends, good friends, would say but you’ll take anything to keep you going. Well, it’s enough to get you to clean up for her again.

“It’s gonna be a long shower by the way.” She giggles and you step over empty cans and bottles when you walk to the bathroom.

“No prob, I’m heading out soon,” Hyejoo says.

“Sure you are.”

Her exaggerated yawn seems not so exaggerated by how she stretches her entire being before putting her phone away.

“Oh, soon means now. How long’s it going to take?” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders. “One, two? I dunno.”

In a rush to get all her supplies in her bag, a series of metallic clangs sound out when finished beverages fall over like dominoes.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry about that, I really am. I can buy you lunch if you want something?” Hyejoo starts picking up a few of them to set aside in the corner and you help her.

“Nah, I’ll still be in the shower by then.”

Hyejoo scoffs. “If I'm addicted to caffeine, you're addicted to water. A sandwich sound good?”

“Yeah sure. I got a lot on my mind, Captain.”

“That include me?” A dismissive puff of air exits your lips. No, no way. She walks up to smell your uniform. Your acute awareness of her distance or lack thereof causes you to ignore her pupils' subtle drift downwards.

“You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

"Get to your shower stinky."

You wave Hyejoo off then enter the bathroom. The scurry of little steps and a slam from the front door echo the whole apartment. Never any privacy in here. These sounds give way to the jet engine of your shower with its pressure betraying the bargain rate of your rent. Soap washes away your muscles' ache and the sun’s beating on your skin. It's been unusually warm since the leaves turned brown. Water builds up in the tub.

Something's not adding up. There it is again. That plunging in your heart. Sparring always helps a bit after your early morning manual labor carrying bags of sand. However, it does not stop the resurfacing of your every mistake as there's nothing but your mind in the shower. You don't have a plan and your future is void because money and work hours kill you as much as school. You're not even getting all the wages you earn and there's nothing you can do about it. Past choices bubble up in that unkind way. The cup fills and clear blue liquid engulfs you.

Lift yourself out the tub to catch a breath that you don't deserve. Deliberate respirations do nothing to slow down your heart rate. The only thing that can is a captain. You could wander the ocean on a raft with her alone but you have no idea if she felt even close to the same. Maybe she's just the most important friend you've ever had. Light from the small window hits the tiled floor. Unplug the drain. Right, you left your clothes in your room so wrap yourself with a green towel you find hanging from the doorknob.

Shit! There's not a mouse in sight but you shriek like there is one when Hyejoo materializes in the confined kitchen. Hyejoo expresses no surprise herself as she sits cross legged on the miniature wooden dining table playing yet another mobile game. Laundry baskets and garbage bags hold all the previous mess. Your surprise at her appearance transforms into surprise for her proactiveness. You want to give her thanks but no words escape your lips.

"You gonna put on some clothes? Perv. That’s my towel too."

Your hands push off invisible blame. The hands of the wall clock reads five minutes before noon. "Woah, woah, wait a sec. What happened to the midterm?"

"Walked out in the middle of it. Couldn’t deal. Dropped."

"Wait, what about the refund?"

"Sunk cost dude.” Hyejoo sniffs a wide white shirt hanging from a chair next to her. “This yours or mine? Ehh, it's clean either way."

You catch the shirt and smell it. A little vanilla. It's hers. “Thanks Captain.”

“Even sniffing it? Really a perv.” You almost forget a single piece of fabric separates full exposure of your genitals but the realization makes you blush anyway.

“Nah, you smelled it first and. Whoever smelt it, dealt it.”

“That’s not what that saying means.” Hyejoo gets up from her awkward seat.

Incredible how many new ways she can throw you off like when she bumps into you with her eyes are still on her phone. Hyejoo's clumsiness will be your death as the towel slips down and hangs solely from your half erect dick. Cool, you're just a clothing rack now. She turns you around with one hand and snatches the large shirt with the other. Your bare moon is in full view.

"You gonna put this on or just stand there?" she says with no qualms about the absurd sight of your newly cleansed rear. You scramble to wrap the towel tightly around you to tame your erection but there's no way she hasn't noticed by now.

"Y- yep, I, I will do that, for sure." Turn back around and take the shirt to put it on carefully. It’d be oversized for her but it fits you snug. Your ears must have joined your cheek’s redness because your nipples poke through the thin white fabric.

Hyejoo takes a single glance away from her screen at your makeshift towel skirt and laughs. "Actually, you look cute like that. Just keep the towel on, it's less to clean."

Wide-eyed, you say, "What if ahjumma barges in?"

"What if? Whatever, no fun." She sticks her tongue out then gets comfortable on the couch while her diligent and nimble fingers peck at the screen.

Return to the restroom and deal with your erection before it becomes a problem. You’ve seen hints of her comely body before and it helps you undress her layered attire in your imagination. Instead of the black button-up long sleeve and track pants she wore just moments ago, you picture a crop top, her hair tied up and white panties, and it's that latter image that affixes to your mind. On a particularly balmy day, Hyejoo wore only her underwear because she had nothing else to do but game and it hasn't stopped plaguing your fantasies ever since. Your hands are Hyejoo’s, soft and loving just for a moment.

"You taking another shower in there or what?" Hyejoo shouts, “I’d definitely hear from here!”

Reality smacks you in the face. She had no fear of you, no worry that you’d take advantage of her. Were you even a man? Stop your jerking and get up. 

Open the bathroom door absentmindedly and thump. It smacks her head. You don’t even think about why she was standing right next to the door, instead sweeping aside her hair from her face. Red doesn’t come from where you hit her.

Simultaneously, you and Hyejoo say, “You okay?”

“Um, I’m, look-”

Her blush grows but she interrupts your blabbering, “I didn’t hear you respond and thought you, uh, died in there or something.”

Nearly reached la petite mort if that counted but instead you say, “No, I just. Had a lot to consider.”

“Sure.” You’ve never seen her this flustered since it’s enough for her to scurry back to her room. Hopefully things wouldn’t be too awkward.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“I fucking hate you!” Hyejoo yells.

“Oh yeah? Same!” you retort, probably too loud.

Her tone goes down. “Were those the lines?”

“Ehh, as long as we get the gist of the argument down.”

Hyejoo and you stand on the stairway up to your rooftop apartment in your rehearsed spots. She looks a little confused on how to start what she wants to start but you poke at her when you see the landlady walking towards the stairs.

“Chill out!” she yelps.

“Chill out, you’re telling me to chill out?"

"Seriously, oppa," that's about as strained as a human can say a word, "You’re such a slob!”

“Shut up, look at me straight in the eyes and tell me you’re not just as bad,” you say, trying not to laugh but Hyejoo’s punch knocks the wind out of you. Your pain is only half acting. Her sympathetic look does nothing to soothe you.

"Ya!" The elderly woman interrupts and forces you two apart. “That’s enough! I get you’re cousins but even I don’t fight this badly with my family.”

Hyejoo whips her pupils towards you as though to ask the same question you had, if you sold the illusion too hard.

“I get that living with your kin is tough but at the very least, no murders on my property. Not until one of you graduates.” The old lady squints and turns to each of you saying, “Promise me. No hitting. Not in my sight.”

You nod then Hyejoo’s sigh becomes an assenting nod when the landlady smacks her wrist nearly black and blue. Satisfied at her hard work reconciling family matters, she walks back down her stairs to do her usual wandering around the neighborhood. Hyejoo and you take a second to stretch and relax.

“Ha. Do as I say, not as I do,” Hyejoo says as you both sit on the concrete steps.

You caress your tender rib. “Or don't do at all. Ow. You wanna be a Youtuber? They do boxing and gaming, and you'd kill doing both." Hyejoo's laugh is rich and all that it takes for you to forgive her. You exhale. "Hopefully that gets her off our backs for a while.”

“How do you even manage Taekwondo? You’re so fragile and-" Her sentence is interrupted when she looks at your built arms.

"No way they hit as hard as you, Captain." You miss her carnal look when you close your eyes and think about the nickname that you aimlessly threw out one day.

She stands up. Your eyes violently spread open at her “Kya!” Hyejoo’s fighting stance and shouts masquerading kihaps are totally off. As much as Hyejoo could kill you, a Taekwondo fighter since your childhood, she could also be incredibly cute too.

You tsk. "All that power and no technique."

Hyejoo sits back down none the more ashamed and scratches her head. "You think it would’ve been easier if we came clean?”

“Ahjumma could never allow two strangers to live co-ed. No way. I’m still surprised you came up with that so quickly.”

“It just came out so naturally, oppa!” she says in a deriding high pitch. “Yeah right I ever call you that again.”

Ring ring. You answer the call and Hyejoo's quizzical stare turns concerned at your breathlessness from the words that drill into your ear. They slam, they crash and their volume could break your eardrums even though they’re said as calmly as possible. The hole in your raft grows bigger and leaks more so even when you reach the abandoned shore, you're marooned.

"Fuck, fuck, god."

Sprint for the next bus. Pay no heed to the girl chasing you. Dammit, this can't be happening. Every problem gets fucking magnified because you can't have anything good and if you did, never could it last for more than a goddamn millisecond. You embark on the most anxious ride of your life even though you already know exactly what's going to happen. Transfer buses. The skyscrapers hover over you and gloat about how you’ll never enter their doors. Asphalt and glass swelter you when they reflect radiation down the sky. Your skin hurts. You get off the bus and arrive at the headquarters of the construction company. At the front of the building stands your boss.

Slap. "Did you not get the message? Were you under a tunnel?"

You get on your knees and bow. "Sir, I'm sorry."

"No one else is going to hire a goddamn delinquent like you."

"Please. I thought you understood." You nearly prostrate yourself

"I have no idea what you're talking about. There's a lot of assault on your record."

You stop yourself from blurting out that you fucking know. Defending yourself from bullies is assault? He already knew this was bullshit since that's why he hired you in the first place but now he's backtracking like a rat. 

"I'll do anything to work here." He shakes his head while you hold back a tear. "Please. Just. Just tell me why?"

"You got greedy."

"Greedy?" You raise your head and then your tone. "Getting paid for the work that I do is greed?"

"You're on your knees and wanna talk back? Get out."

Bang. A closing door. Your head slumps back down and not a single person on the bus would misunderstand your emotions. You take the longest way home, unsure if you even deserve to go back. Any time, you could give up.  Ponder your choices. Never going to get a job again. Never going to school. Never will have a chance to learn or a chance to improve. Never going to have money and never will have a place to live. Never going to see Hyejoo again. You have to give up.

One missed phone call from your polar opposite. She can do so much better. The longest way home turns longer when it goes straight to the sea as you decide to live life as a fisherman with your uncles. You were always invited. You wasted your time in the city. There's no stress here.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

There's no happiness either. Weeks passed even though only days passed. That’s life on the water. Everything spins. Fortunately, you manage to keep your stomach in not wanting to inconvenience the bus driver, the only other person in the vehicle. 

You look at your watch as you near Hyejoo's home. She must be asleep by now but you carry each foot heavily when you walk up the steps anyway. Apologies, excuses and petitions that you wrote in your head blank away when you open the door when you see a woman asleep on the couch with earbuds on. Her unconscious head bounces to a slow rhythm. Your lungs fail your mouth's movements to form words because of all that creamy skin covered only by a green towel that creates an outline of her captivating curves. Hyejoo's legs beg to be licked and her collarbones direct your gaze to the bulging flesh poking from the top of the towel with her nipples an inch from your sight. Any other day and you’d ravage her on the spot. Stupid brain tells you to leave and stupid you follows.

You're outside when you hear Hyejoo say, "Hey! Motherfucker, where'd you go you son of a bitch?"

She steps out with no regard to her state of dress and you spin around watching for any witness. You notice her hold back when she hits you but her consecutive punches send a message anyway as each strike punctuates her words, "What, makes you think, you can worry me, like that?"

"Woah, you should. You should get back inside your house," your voice breaks and you back away.

"Hold on now, you're really about to go? Like this?" Hyejoo says.

"You. You look busy. I have to go."

"I'm sorry, I was just messing around with you. Come on, you're really telling me-" She notices your tumultuous expression and sighs. “Fuck it, we'll worry about it tomorrow. First of all, come in. With me. Into our home.”

You follow her into her apartment. She quickly returns from her room in a simple white tee and red gym shorts revealing the supple shape of her ass.

“I'm not gonna ask, okay? Tell you what. When you have a problem, the only answer is late night soju, beer and?” she says.

“Chicken, it’s gotta be. Come on, I see the bones right there.” You point to the countertop dishes. “I’m surprised this place isn’t messier."

"I can handle myself, thank you very much. And that. That was leftover, dry, sober chicken. We're going to munch down on that good crispy skin and we're doing it goddamn wasted." You can't help but match her smile, more radiant and genuine than yours.

Hyejoo pulls out all the alcohol from the small fridge while you call for delivery before both of you step outside the home. It’s night but the heat would make you believe the moon disguises the sun with how it shines on the green roof. What a weird fall. Only the trees remind you of the season. A short plastic table as the only furniture easily moved outside means that you’d have to sit close together on the floor, not that you minded.

Her silence confuses you but she becomes her usual self after you both down glasses of mixed beer and soju and especially after she sees the delivery man bringing an absurd amount of plastic bags for two people.

“Let’s. Go!” she shouts sloppily.

The poor worker looks at you so you give him a knowing nod and point to the beer and soju cans strewn about. His thumbs up as he walks away beguiles you. You look at Hyejoo and realize all the cleavage she’s showing with the shirt she chose. It's as revealing as the towel she wore earlier. Did she not put on a bra? Stand up quickly and search for the guy but his motorcycle revs and he’s already out of sight. That fucker probably saw something he shouldn’t have. You’re never gonna order from that chicken spot again. You bite angrily into the spicy crispy wing. Alright, maybe you just won’t order at this hour or whenever that dude works. Hyejoo chows down with drumsticks on each hand and it’s clear she’s responsible for a majority of the finished carcasses. The stains on her shirt would not make her look any less goddamn cute.

“Cheers!” Glasses clink. How many drinks, how many, burp, were you down? She burps too, you burp together. It’s funny. There was a lot of conversation but it slips you.

"I said I wouldn't talk about it, but Doyun and Michael, worried sick. They came here, everything.” Hyejoo garbles her words.

"Just ‘cause I don't show up to the club for a few days?"

"I'm telling you, a lot of people care. For you. I know I do."

It’s been a while since you started your little escape. All the food’s gone. You’re more sober now. You swear. The nighttime is so comfortable that Hyejoo brings out her blanket to lay on, along with a spoon and a watermelon.

"You're gonna have to wash this later," you say.

“Alright fine. Don't. Don’t rest yourself besides a pretty lady.“ Stab. ”On a perfect starry night.” Stab. “And don’t have some of this delicious watermelon."

One more stab at the watermelon she splits it open. Her devilish look suggests she might do the same to your rib cage if you don’t acquiesce. Lie down next to Hyejoo on the flimsy layer of cloth. You share pieces of the fruit and notice water spilling down her mouth. Definitely sober by now. She’s maybe half a meter away.

"Starry's a strong word to use.”  You twirl your finger at the scarce lights in the black backdrop. “Lady too with the way you eat-" She playfully covers your mouth and flicks your forehead.

You don't know when your laughter and banter slow down, or when you start inching closer to her. It doesn't matter.

“Fishing is boring. They make it look all dramatic on shows and you’re just waiting. The night sky’s much clearer though.”

“You gotta. When you do something like that, gotta lemme join in at least.”

“You’re really fine on going on a trip with a man, alone, faraway on the sea?”

“If it’s you.”

“I don’t count, not much of a man at all. I just run away from shit and-”

"Shhh,” she shushes you loudly. “You can count on me.” Hyejoo says and you don’t let her voice project into empty space.

“I will.” It sounds a little forced from you.

“You will,“ she sounds so sure of herself, ”you’ll be okay.”

Your head lays in her neck. A finger in a cup, breaking surface tension so a drop escapes past the rim. You have no outdated sentiments on displaying emotion but you held back often pretending your tenacity was as strong as your body. Not this time. Your cup overflows.

Only moonlight refracts on your tears and Hyejoo wipes them away. You have no idea what she’s thinking as she gazes into the few stars visible in the city. Turn on your side and Hyejoo does likewise to face you then puts a couple of fingers in your hair. Cup her face in return and it wears many emotions, such as impishness, meekness at a few times, and an often impenetrable focus, but above all it’s the standard for beauty in how it assumes no blemish. Her triangle mouth is distinct, welcoming, but you hesitate. Her minute sugary fragrance overwhelms the variety of smells in the air. Crickets and distant occasional traffic. Hyejoo’s head tilts forward then places her lips light on yours and your world is silent. Your heart’s pulse slows so it doesn't interrupt.

“Captain,” you exhale out when she finally retreats her mouth. The name sounds ridiculous in this setting. “Ma’am?”

“Whatever sounds right to you,” she yields, though the subdued caresses on the definition of your arms, and less subtle grabs on your black shirt, convey that she’s in charge even if it’s a gentle direction. "Just Hyejoo is fine."

It's like she’s teaching you how to spar for the first time though neither of you are virgins. Hyejoo gives another kiss then turns you recumbent. You could not and would not stop her now especially when she straddles your denim covered thighs. Take off your shirt and her hands rush to aid you.

“But I’d prefer we don’t think at all.” Is she drooling?

“That’s what got me into trouble. Thoughtlessness.” Your eyes somehow wander away from the woman and her sumptuous yet clothed ass grinding on you.

“What do you think of me?

“Huh?” you say and your eyes snap back to her.

The underside of her shorts warm your groin. “I said, what do you think of me?”

“I think, ugh,” her weight striking a sensitivity in your pants makes you moan, “I think, you’re the most beautiful woman I know.”

“What a player. Well, that’s all you need to think.” Hyejoo rocks back and forth. “Fuck, this is going to be good.”

Lay your hands on her hips and Hyejoo takes your right one, lifting herself just enough to let your dick breathe.

“Why do you need that hand?” you say.

“Feel this.” She takes your hand to knead the thin cloth under her mound and you feel just the tiniest hint of moisture build on your palm.

Pull away to take a base whiff of your slippery fingers. It’ll be a new addiction. The smell of alcohol and the most delicious fried chicken in the world couldn’t compare.

"It's been like this around you since the day we met." Hyejoo bends down and etches every word of the confession into your eardrums, her tone even raspier. "This is all for you."

“Really?” You give her a peck and it turns frisky when tongues join the mix and teeth nibble at lips. 

“Mhm.” Her lips vibrate on yours. Hyejoo gropes your crotch over your jeans. “I know it's going to be perfect.” She unzips and pulls down your pants to your knees. You take them off your legs completely and she searches for your wallet.

"I just lost my job and you're gonna rob me?" She breaks her serious character with a snicker. You sniffle and your mood lightens, “And how’d you know I had a condom in there?”

“Just had a feeling.” She winks.

Not an implausible cold reading but you can't count out the possibility of her snooping through your personal effects. You don't mind her proclivities this time. Hyejoo traces your every muscle’s curve with her index and middle finger and focuses especially around your pecs.

“I have to concede. I love these muscles of yours. Ever since that first day I met you at the open house. Maybe I’m just a simple woman.”

“Simplicity is sophistication.” Her fingers draw a line down your torso.

"Indeed. But I'm most interested in this hunk of meat right," she frees your cock from its confines, "Here." Hyejoo licks her lips.

“How is it?”

You’re already hard but Hyejoo's hands deftly work your shaft stiffer. “It’s so thick and this vein right here. It’ll hit just right.”

"Fuck, Hyejoo," you utter when she spits a little on your cock before she unrolls the condom on your erection. Hyejoo slips aside her shorts.

You don't get a view of her pussy with how she sprawls herself on top of you, but the slickness of her lips and the warmth that she emanates from between her legs immerses your senses enough. The missionary with her on top lets her control by the way she guides your cock and presses down on you.

“Oh god, I was right, fuuck,” Hyejoo proclaims when she sinks herself carefully into you and, on the next bounce, smacks her butt right into your waist. Her snugness clenches and quakes on your cock. Willowy arms share a similar hold of your body when she embraces you. You need her as badly as she needs you. You take heavy breaths, especially through your nose. Even her sweat is so alluring. The velvet texture that surrounds you keeps taut on your dick no matter how forcefully she rides herself on top of you. Squelches and quiet moans to a higher power pepper the warm night air.

Hyejoo removes her shirt and slings it away before bowing back down to lick your ears "God, your tits are perfect," you say even though your hands squeeze her buttcheeks in time to her thrusts. Her perky breasts recoil back and forth as they rub your chest while hard nipples juxtapose their softness.

No chance someone would come up to this little rooftop at this hour or have a good view though your cheeks flush at the thought. What if you had extra chicken coming? Or what if the landlady decided to check in on you two late at night? What if-

Hyejoo nudges her forehead against yours. She knows your habits. Your worried face is too familiar for her not to react so she nuzzles your neck and surrounds you with kisses.

Her husky voice vibrates your whole face. "Just focus on me." She makes out with you before her tongue dips into every crevice of your face the same way your cock does in her pink pussy.

Your dick slips out for a second and you take the time to admire her beauty and your fortune. 

“Telling me not to drown and you’re going to inundate me,” you say in between her smooches, "With all these kisses."

“Well. Mwah.” Another peck. "You're so delectable.”

“So I’m just chicken to you then.” This deep kiss is probably to shut you up. You’re fine with that.

Regret on her mouth that she pulls away from you. One of you rips off her shorts, the last piece of clothing obstructing you two from total symmetry. Who cares who sees. You’re both fully naked with not a woe for the surrounding world. Delicate hands splayed across your upper body grasp tightly and again, your pecs get particular attention while she fondles your nipples. 

She adjusts her back straight up and now she’s on her knees seated on your erection. The cowgirl stance allows her to find a new cusp of your cock head inside her. Hyejoo gyrates on you and you notice the understated lubrication of her pussy begins to overpower everything else in existence. Her musk vaguely reminds you of the ocean while its pheromones have you just as wobbly. It’s enough that, even though you're on your back, you have to hold her waist to avoid keeling over. Nails dig into your chest.

“God, yes, you, your cock, everything, just fuck into me.”

Hyejoo relaxes her body weight and relinquishes the rhythm to you. Pick up a new wind in your sails when you hear her gasp as you pinch her nipples. The momentum has you use all your stamina as though your rigorous fitness had one culminating purpose. You would make Hyejoo cum with only your cock. Rotate and circle your pelvis in pursuit of her most tender spot and an uncharacteristic high pitched wail confirms the location of the treasure. It’s difficult holding yourself up to reach the sensitive wall but she realizes your shared interest.

“That’s, that’s the spot. When I touch myself and think of you, it’s right there, fuck, it’s right there.” There’s no speed or power in your movement, only deliberate jabs and graceful nudges at the softest flesh. Sure it’s work, but damn did you get paid for it since she somehow sops even more between her thighs. Truly the reciprocating delight of friction and silkiness on your dick’s tip is worth it. Your name mixes profanities and wet slapping noises as Hyejoo bucks her hips in climax. Prized juices cascade all over your lap. Her highest vocalizations pierce your ears and her pussy tries its best to milk you but Hyejoo keeps as still as she can to hold your cock’s ideal positioning. Smear the fluids that coat her thighs slick with your hands and lick at your fingers, thirsty like you’re stranded.

Those thighs, by smothering your cock and removing your condom, soothe the pangs of when you pull out. Hyejoo is still in her cowgirl position reeling from her climax and her contorted face is yet more polished than any art you’ve consumed.

Seize the opportunity. Bend your dick forward. The topside of your shaft now rubs on her well-formed ass cheeks, moisturized by the wetness on your cock. Its cradle is different from her pussy's with perfect round cushions in her buns and a tight asshole that greets and tempts your shaft every time you thrust. It’s a siren call you’d have to answer another day. Fucking her bare buttcheeks satisfies you plenty enough.

She lifts up to let your erection return to its idle upward stance and you fuck her thighs in response. Her labia gnaws away at the bottom of your shaft and it begs you to shove it back in especially with how its liquor intoxicates your dick. You don’t forfeit, already overwhelmed by the thickness of her legs and her saliva dribbling from her mouth to help her juices. Hyejoo squirms as you repeat fucking her ass cheeks and fucking her thighs, and it makes the both of you feel heady. Alcohol and lack of sleep would probably do that too.

“Please. Hyejoo,” you implore, flexing your cock to scrape by her pussy lips.

“You want to?” She teases your bare tip but even just the spread of her satin pink on your head makes you shoot just a little. “I. I dunno.”

“Can we?”

“No.” You regret your loud sigh and feel selfish since you already had more satisfaction than one man could ever experience in his life. ”No, not no. No, as in no thinking.”

Plunge back into her wetness. Your cycle in and out continues with you eager to make her climax a second time. Maybe it’s the third time? The only thing you can recall is that this round, you can feel every corner of her pussy on your shaft tensing and relaxing without the latex protection. All of everything is a blur. Hyejoo could be clutching and ogling your muscles. She might be kissing your neck or maybe she’s bobbing up and down to show off her tits and her tummy. God, that midriff would look perfect coated in your cum. You could live forever with Hyejoo mounted on your cock and riding. A ringtone interrupts forever once again. It’s from that number. What was that number? Fuck it, no thinking. Her bouncing tits hypnotize you away from substantiality.

She snaps her fingers. “Hey! Hey. This is, fuck that feels so good, god your cock is just right. Ah fuck, I really think you should answer that.” You take an eternity to slow your boat. Hyejoo points to your phone on the table next to you. Work. She’s right. Both of you take a second to stabilize your breathing. Try to push her off but she refuses, shifting her mass onto your lap and keeping her pussy’s hold tight and warm on you.

“Really?” You groan, “You’re the one who told me to answer it.”

“It’s so late and they haven’t stopped calling.” She rests her head on your chest and yawns. “Your cock is sooo big in me. Don’t even need to move.”

Channel your practice silently jerking off to keep your cool though years of doing that couldn’t prepare you for this. Your hands certainly tried but never could imitate her pussy’s plush tightness. Really wish you didn’t have to but finally, you answer your phone after minutes of ringing. The voice on the other side mumbles a greeting. Didn’t expect to hear him. “Joonho. Why the fuck are you calling now?”

“It’s me! Joonho.”

“Yeah, I know. The hell you calling for?”

“Now that’s no way to speak to your boss, is it?”

“Huh?”

“I said that’s no way to speak.”

“I got that!”

“Hyung. That asshole, management fired him.”

“You telling me-”

“Yeah, they caught him stealing.”

“How the fuck?”

“Dude got too big for his britches and aimed up with his theft too. Mr. Son really didn’t like that shit.”

You cheer in your head. It wakes up the girl resting on you. Guess that wasn’t in your head. “Fuck man.”

"I know right. Fuck him!" You're not on speaker but Hyejoo must’ve heard him say that. You massage your ringing ear.

“Ow. But thank you. Seriously, it’s so late. You could’ve called me tomorrow.”

“I’m drunk as shit man. Sounds like you are too.” You don’t even realize how much you’re slurring your words. “Should I pull up, maybe we drink a little more?”

Stare at the woman still holding your cock in place, fluttering her lashes at you. Hyejoo mouths if you’re gonna take much longer. “I. I don’t think I will. We’ll have to meet up some other time, okay?”

Understanding that you’re winding down your call, she gets back upright and starts bouncing again. “You gonna pass out or something?” Joonho says.

“Something like that” Hyejoo teasingly drops her waist into you and waits, then lifts herself. You purse your lips. “Listen, ah.” And again. Purposeful slams into your cock too loud not to be picked up by a phone. “God. I gotta go, I’ll text you again tomorrow aight goodbye,” you rush your words.

She holds her hair up in pleasure and her profane cries let everyone living below know that you’re fucking the most gorgeous girl with more energy than you’ve ever had. For all the pressure on your sensitive nerves, it’s that image of Hyejoo satisfying her need with your cock that brings you closer.

“I’m almost there! Fuck, fuck.” You pull out and despite her drowsiness, Hyejoo diligently takes your dick with both hands, scoots back and bends down, slobbering on it with her mouth while her fingers stroke the skin of your shaft.

Hyejoo’s lips pop when she releases your cock’s tip. “Where do you wanna-”

“Those fucking perfect abs,” you shudder.

She takes advantage of your previous thrusts’ zeal on her thighs and repositions herself in cowgirl one last time to bend back and choke your cock with her toned legs. One single motion is all it takes. A tsunami and a storm clash. Didn’t remind her that you hadn’t cum at all away at sea as you explode. You call out, “Hyejoo, god, yes, fuck, Hyejoo, yes,” at every wave of pleasure. Shove desperately and Hyejoo’s eyes grow big at how much semen streams out of your slit because the volume of cum nearly rivals the fluid she ejected from her wetness. Her inner thighs, her lap and her stomach all soak in stickiness. She holds onto your arms as she finds enjoyment not only from your cock’s throbbing on her clit, but at your biceps and other curves. An inquisitive pinky takes a sample of your cum to lick up then, to your surprise, she collects all the cum she can with both hands and swallows it down.

“Ahh,” she presents her tongue to you.

Finally, you sit up and no amount of exhaustion would stop you from nibbling her neck as thanks.

“Relax, you hungry beast. You just came all over me and now you’re trying to tell the world we just fucked.” She gives you a little suck on your lips instead.

“I don’t mind.” You clash at her mouth and your teeth click. She smiles and gives you a deep but final smooch. Both of you breathe stiltedly and take time to readjust into the world once again.

“Me neither, if I didn’t have a presentation tomorrow.”

You fall back and feel everything aching in a good way. “Ah shit, school.”

“What did I tell you earlier?”

“Hmm?”

Hyejoo falls flat next to you and clasps her hands into yours. “You will be okay. I called them with an excuse. Speaking of which. You’re gonna find out sooner or later that a certain cool as fuck girl blew the whistle on that son of a bitch.”

This whole thing feels like it should be temporary, like a one-time thing. Any more and it’d be weird, yet her confidence makes you reroute all that anxious energy in your heart’s pace into something good. It’s not love but, “Thanks. I just. Thank you.”

“You are always welcome.” Her lips curl up.

“So. You a snitch now, huh?"

"Relax,” she hisses the end of the word. ”Maybe I snooped through the construction company records, maybe I didn’t. You didn’t hear from me, ‘kay?" She nudges your side with her elbow.

“Hey!” You laugh a little, ticklish in that spot. “Okay, okay. How’d you manage that anyway?”

“Joonho didn’t mention it? Well, I have my connections,” Hyejoo says.

You breathe out and you deserve it. “You really are the Captain.”

“Damn right. Guess you’re stuck on this boat a little.” Yawn. “Longer.” Her eyelids slowly descend.

Watch Hyejoo fall asleep and realize she’s nude and still a little sticky. You decide to make a smart decision just once by putting away all the garbage in your apartment. She giggles reflexively when you clean her up and you struggle but manage to put on her previous outfit.

After you get dressed yourself, you lie next to Hyejoo and watch the few lights in the sky all distanced from each other. You feel a little reticent but the old lady shouldn’t fret if the outdoors is a better bedroom for one night. Close your eyes. Drift away into the best sleep you’ve ever had even if it’s only you and a blanket separate the hard concrete rooftop from the atmosphere. Dreams of water are gracious for once. The ocean lacks bounds and you smile for it. Who cares about tomorrow? It’s made of sticks and rope fashioned from whatever bamboo you could find but the raft holds two. That’s all you need.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

"A college roommate scenario where the male reader is living with LOONA's Olivia Hye and she's attracted to him sexually since he moved in due to his physique. Then one day, he got home all stressed and the two hooked up eventually." - @optimisticwritersworld​

AFF, AO3

Pretty sure this was supposed to be all casual but then I started adding to explain the co-ed living scenario and the stress, so here we are. Watch out for more LOONA though no promises on timelines

[zeppelin-and-unicorns]

what would happen if Jackie got pregnant during season 8 by a one night stand and the dad didn't want to be involved, how do you think the gang would react, I kinda think she would catch a lot of crap from them, especially Hyde and Donna, but I think she would want a stress free pregnancy so she would distance herself from them and maybe after the baby was born she would let them back into her life slow

Okay, I know Hyde and Donna acted like complete pricks on season 8, but I refuse to believe that they would act like pricks if something like this happened.

This is going to be a looong answer, and I even wrote a small ficlet because I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL HELP ME.

We've all seen how they reacted when Kelso didn't want to take responsibility with Brooke. No matter who the girl is, knocking her up and abandoning her is a completely shitty thing to do and they would not be okay with that, especially if the girl in question is Jackie.

This might be a wake-up call for them.

I totally understand why Jackie would be reluctant on telling them or even being around them once the news is out. To be honest, I don't even think she would actually tell them, judging by how they treated her on s8. But I also don't see Jackie not telling anyone, this is a very serious situation, she would need a shoulder to cry on, and I think she would probably tell either Mr. Forman or Mrs. Forman, maybe even Fez, since they're roommates and all that.

But of course, Hyde and Donna would find out eventually. You can't just hide a pregnancy when you live in a small town like Point Place.

Once they find out, they would definitely be shocked and upset. Donna would be upset not only because her friend is in such a crappy situation, but also because Jackie didn't even consider telling her and asking her for advice. That's when she'd notice how shitty of a friend she was.

Hyde would probably have many, many thoughts going through his mind. As I said multiple times, I simply do not believe that Hyde stopped loving her out of nowhere, what he and Jackie had was real, they had a nice, loving relationship and there's no way in hell he got over her in such a short span of time.

At first, he'd be upset because the girl he loves is having a baby with someone that's not him, and being upset about it would make him angry, because he won't be able to keep lying to himself after finding out something like this. This hurts, and this isn't the kind of hurt he can distract himself from with booze, pot, and meaningless sex.

The anger would completely take over once he finds out that the baby's dad wants nothing to do with Jackie and the baby. That's when I believe he'd try and talk to her.

Hyde knocks at Jackie and Fez's apartment, looking nervous and antsy. Jackie opens the door and stares impassively at him.

Jackie: So, you know.

Hyde: Yeah, I know.

Jackie: What? No snippy comments? No 'haha, Jackie's a knocked-up whore'? Aren't you going to laugh at me and say I deserve this?

Hyde ignores her and enters the apartment, he starts pacing nervously through the living room.

Hyde (looking pissed): Who did this to you?

Jackie: It doesn't matter. He wants nothing to do with me and the baby. Look, it's late and...

Hyde: Jackie, you need to tell me who did this to you, so I can find him and set his ass straight.

Jackie: I don't want you to do that!

Hyde: Well, that's too bad, this isn't about you anymore, Jackie! This is about your kid! Now tell me who's the bastard and I swear to God, I'll kill him if...

Jackie: I'm not thinking about myself, Steven! You and I both know how bad it is to be raised by a parent who never wanted you and treats you like crap, so I'd rather raise this baby alone than raise him or her with a father who doesn't care, alright?

Hyde sighs and runs his fingers through his face.

Hyde: Jackie, this isn't right, you can't do this alone, I...

Jackie: No, you don't get to care now. Just leave me alone, I can handle this. I have the Forman's and Fez, I'll be fine.

Hyde: You have me too.

Jackie scoffs and rolls her eyes.

Jackie: Yeah, right.

Hyde: I mean it, we can tell people it's my kid, and...

Jackie: Because getting knocked up by your ex-boyfriend who dumped you for a stripper and completely humiliated you is so much better than getting knocked up by a stranger, right?

Hyde feels the back of his eyes burning. Jackie's right, what he did to her was unforgivable, and he's lucky she's even talking to him. But he doesn't want her to go through this alone, he wants to be there for her like he wasn't in the last few months.

Hyde: I just want to help you, Jackie.

Jackie: You'll help me by leaving me alone. Goodbye, Hyde.

With that, she shoves him out of the apartment and locks the door, hoping he won't hear the sobs that were escaping her.

The next morning, Hyde's sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast with the Forman's and Donna, he looks very mopey and is barely touching his food.

Kitty: Is everything alright, Steven?

Red: Don't tell me you're upset because of the stripper, she left over a week ago!

Donna: Actually, Hyde and I found out about Jackie yesterday. Fez accidentally told us during the cir... during our heart-to-heart talks.

Kitty and Red exchange looks. Kitty looks uncomfortable and sad, Red looks pissed.

Kitty: Oh... Well, you were bound to know eventually

Donna: I don't know what we're going to do

Hyde pushes his plate aside, looking pissed.

Hyde: I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to track this bastard down and I'll kill him with my bare hands, I don't care what Jackie told me, I'll kill him.

Red: Already tried. The loud one won't tell me who it is and I think it's better this way.

Hyde gives Red an incredulous look.

Hyde: How is it better this way? She needs someone to be there for her, someone who'll hold her hand while she's having the kid, someone who'll get her all the weird foods she's going to crave... That kid needs a dad, man! And she won't let me...

He interrupts himself and takes a deep breath, not looking at the other people sitting around him.

Donna: All Hyde's trying to say is that... Jackie needs us right now.

Kitty looked at her husband, who has put his newspaper down and was glaring at the duo. She immediately knew that things were about to get ugly.

Red: She's been needing you for a long time now, but none of you gave a damn! The loud one cries to me ever since this dumbass thought it would be a good idea to get drunk and marry a stripper, leaving his girlfriend of years alone to fend for herself, so I'm going to tell you what to do!

Red stands up angrily and Kitty stands next to him, rubbing his arm in an attempt to calm him down. He points at both Donna and Hyde, who looked scared.

Red: You are going to do what she tells you to do! If she tells you to leave her alone, then you are going to leave her alone! She doesn't need to deal with any of your crap right now!

Red storms off, leaving Hyde and Donna alone with Kitty. Donna has tears in her eyes, and Hyde looks extremely regretful and guilty.

Kitty: Red's just... A little protective of Jackie after everything that happened. I'm sure Jackie will come around eventually, all you two need to do is give her some space and be there for her if she ever needs it, okay? And try not to be so mean with her anymore.

After that lovely talk, Hyde and Donna (who were already feeling like crap) feel extremely guilty, and they try to apologize to Jackie and make up for their mistakes. Jackie fights them at first, but she caves eventually, because the pregnancy was really wearing her out and a few extra hands wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Also, she could tell that they were really sorry for their actions and she didn't feel like punishing them anymore, she has more important things to worry about.

They are both there for her when she needs them, especially Hyde. They developed a really nice friendship, and he proves to her that he's changed. He drives her to all her doctor's appointments, he helps her set up a nursery, and he gets attached to the baby before it's even born. He's in the delivery room with Jackie (and Mrs. Forman) when she's delivering, and the second he heard the baby crying he knew he was a goner.

He still loves Jackie, by the way. Never stopped, and he wants her back. But he held himself back and respected her time, Jackie was too busy with the pregnancy and taking care of her newborn baby, and he didn't want to add more to her plate.

Once the baby's slightly older, Hyde ends up asking Jackie for another chance. He declares himself for her and after a day or two of thinking, Jackie says yes and they get back together.

They eventually get married, he ends up legally adopting the baby, and they raise the kid together. She gets pregnant again after a few years and they have a big, happy, loving family.

Again, another fix-it that no one really asked for, but I can't help myself.

[katefiction]

Hey everyone, when I finished writing Will and Kate nearly 7 years ago now, I felt like there really wasn't anything else I could say about them. And that's still true to an extent. A gave me the request/idea of writing something based on folklore/evermore and I love those albums as much as everyone else. They are incredibly inspiring and made me want to write. But I still didn't know how to make those into a William and Kate story. Until I realised that they didn't have to just be a William and Kate story. For that reason, I've written this without names. When writing it, I was thinking of them some of the time, and fictional characters some of the time. I wasn't going to tell you that because I didn't want people to not read it because of that. In the end I decided to be honest. You can use William and Kate as the characters, but equally you don't have to.

This story imagines what would happen if this couple had been apart for a few years and reunite for a weekend. It's based on 'tis the damn season. I really hope you enjoy and would love to know what you think.

Love, Maria x

Chapter 1 : You can call me babe for the weekend

In a small cottage covered in ivy, she stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. Her hand twitched on the counter as she tried to resist the urge to look at her phone again.

Two days previously, she received a text that had made her heart lurch.

I’m in the area in a couple of days, can I come and see you?, it had said. Short and straight to the point. He hadn’t changed in that regard at least.

She had taken a few hours to reply. Of course she wanted to see him - partly out of sheer curiosity. But it had been three years since they’d last seen each other. And the decision to end things hadn’t been easy.

Eventually, after a few hours deliberation, she had replied with the address of the place that had become her sanctuary. And now she waited.

She poured the boiled water into a mug, added a tea bag and cupped her hands around it. She looked over to the old grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. In half an hour he would be here and she still hadn’t decided what to say to him. Or how to act. Instead of thinking about that, she had busied herself with cleaning the cottage top to bottom until there was not a speck of dirt left to wipe away.

She took her tea upstairs, each step creaking as she went. In her bedroom, she opened her wardrobe. Sitting down on the bed, she stared at the rows of clothes hanging up waiting to be chosen. None of them seemed to convey what she wanted to say.

I’m fine without you.

I still want you to find me pretty.

I don’t care what you think.

No piece of clothing could express that ridiculous combination of feelings. She got up and sighed, looking out of the window. It was 7.45pm now and already dark. The trees outside her cottage swung in the wind, the branches tapping against the window.

Going back to the wardrobe, she closed her eyes and ran her hand along the row of her clothes and pulled one out at random. It was a deep maroon knitted jumper dress.

‘That’ll do’ she said out loud.

Earlier in the day she had decided that she wouldn’t wear any make up. Why should she? But now, looking in the mirror, her face seemed tired and lifeless.

She grabbed some eyeliner out of the drawer and applied a wing onto her eyelids. A curl and a dab of vaseline on her eyelashes, and tint on cheeks and lips made her feel slightly more presentable.

She glanced over at the clock on her bedside table. 7.56pm. He wasn’t usually late. She took her mug downstairs and placed it in the sink, considering washing it to pass the time.

It was then she saw the headlights trail through the kitchen window. Taking a deep breath, she paced the kitchen listening to the sound of the engine switching off and the car door opening and closing. The crunch of his footsteps on the gravel path came closer until finally there was a soft tap at her front door.

*

He was the same as she’d always known him. Strong arms with the sleeves rolled up, piercing eyes that saw right through her.

‘Can I come in?’ he said. She suddenly realised that she hadn’t heard his voice in three years. She hadn't thought she’d missed it until right then.

‘Oh, yeah, come through’ she said, stepping aside.

He had to bend slightly to fit under the doorway. ‘Made for short people’, he said as he closed the door behind him.

‘It’s good to see you’ he said, those eyes surveying her.

‘You too’ she said. ‘Do you want a drink?’.

‘Sure’ he followed her to the kitchen, looking around at the tiny ground floor. A fire crackled under the living room mantlepiece, and cushions and throws were scattered around. ‘Lovely place, very you’.

She grabbed some white wine from the fridge without asking him what he wanted and poured out two glasses.

He took it gratefully and they sipped in an awkward silence. The grandfather clock ticked loudly and he walked over to look at it. Presumably just as something to do.

She followed him into the living room and sat down on the couch, her knees tucked under her. She moved a few cushions around to make space for him, placing one on her lap for comfort. He sat on the other side of it, sinking into it.

‘So why did you text me?’ she said, stroking the stem of her glass, faking nonchalance.

‘I told you, I was in the area’.

‘This isn’t really an area people come to visit’. She looked out of the living room window behind them. Although it was dark, he knew what she was referring to. She lived in a small village technically, but her cottage lay in a secluded area surrounded by woodland.

She had moved here three years ago as an escape and she loved it. It was just cut off enough to be peaceful, but not so far that she didn’t have people to turn to when she needed them.

‘Ok, the surrounding area’ he smiled. ‘The truth is I’ve been thinking about you recently’.

‘I’m sure you have much more interesting things to think about’ she said, looking into her glass to avoid eye contact.

‘Anyway...how have you been?’ he said, changing tack.

‘We don't have to do that’, it pained her to have small talk with him when they used to sit in such comfortable silence.

‘Do what?’ he looked genuinely confused and it occurred to her that maybe he couldn’t read her so easily any more.

‘The small talk thing, you can just tell me why you’re here’.

‘Ok’ he pulled in his lips like he always did when he was thinking about what to say, ‘well, the truth is I was coming to this side of the country for work and I wanted to see you’.

She smiled for the first time that night, ‘this side of the country?’

‘Yes, well I realise I might have come a bit out of my way’.

They paused and looked at each other. Their old dynamic started to shift back into place. The light teasing, the subtle looks.

‘Anyway’ he continued. ‘I guess I just wanted to see if you were ok. I never liked how things ended, you know that’.

Their break up was business-like. When she decided it was over, there were no more tears and arguments. Just a simple acceptance. She had packed her bags, wished him well out of courtesy and built a wall so high that not even he could break it. It had frustrated him to the point of madness. She refused to hug him goodbye. She didn’t even tell him she was moving away.

‘It’s what I needed to do’, she said, holding the cushion closer to her.

‘And now?’ he said, hope etched on his face.

‘Now...nothing. We’ve moved on. There’s no point in reliving it’

‘Have you...moved on with someone?’ he asked.

‘I didn’t mean it like that’ she got up and poured more wine into her glass even though it wasn’t empty.

‘Would you hate me if I said I was happy about that? I was dreading you telling me you had found someone’.

Her heart skipped, realising he was right behind her. She didn’t turn, not wanting his eyes on her.

‘I could never hate you’ she said quietly.

‘I’m not with anyone either, I broke up someone a few months ago, she was -’

‘If I wanted to know who you were hanging out with, I would’ve asked’, she said, breaking him off. When she was uncomfortable, she became curt. He knew that, and he would always challenge her on it by refusing to take offence.

She felt him come closer to her, ‘I’ve missed you’.

It was the words she’d dreaded. ‘Don’t say that’, she replied, tightening the cap on the wine bottle as hard as she could.

‘Why not, it’s the truth’, he placed his glass on the counter. Clearly he was done with the niceties.

‘If you’ve come here to try and mess with my head, don’t bother’, she moved past him and put the wine bottle back in the fridge.

‘Why on earth would I do that?’ he said, trying not to fall for her favoured method of pushing him away.

‘I don’t know, you said you’d broken up with someone, maybe you’re lonely’.

‘I told you, I miss you and wanted to see you. If I was lonely, I could go elsewhere’.

She couldn't help but laugh at his arrogance.

He ran his hand through his hair, ‘how has this turned into an argument?’.

‘We’re not having an argument’, she said plainly.

‘Yes we are, and stop pretending that you don’t care’.

So he could still see through her after all.

The wind was picking up now, battering the branches harder against the cottage. They both knew there was nothing more to say. That they’d just go around in circles if they continued to talk. And she wouldn’t give him an inch.

Instead, they did what they knew they would as soon as he sent that text. What she knew would happen as she applied the colour to her lips earlier.

He reached out and pulled her in by the waist and she clutched at the fabric of his shirt at his stomach. When their lips met, she felt it all over her body. The ache of the last three years passing between them.

*

They lay tangled together in bed staring at the ceiling.

‘Are you ok?’ he said.

‘Yeah’, she turned to look at him. ‘Are you?’

‘Very much so’ he laughed softly, ‘I’ve missed you’.

‘You’ve said that already’, she teased.

‘I thought you might believe it this time’, he placed his hand over hers on the bed covers.

‘This can’t be, you know, a thing again’ she said carefully.

‘I know’, he said. ‘Not much has changed in my life, I didn’t expect to come here and take you home’.

‘Do you ever wonder why we never could make it work?’ she asked him, letting him play with her fingers.

‘Yes...and no. I knew you didn’t want the life I had to offer but I couldn't let you go. If I had stopped it earlier on, it would’ve saved us a lot of hassle’, he looked at the ceiling again as he remembered the two years they had together.

They had been happy, when it was just them. But it would never be just them and they both knew it. He was relentless in finding new ways to keep her close until he couldn’t anymore. Time alone became harder to find and the longer they went on believing they could be a normal couple, the less realistic it became. Eventually, after two months apart, she put an end to it. And she ran as far as she could. She knew he would try to maintain contact so she cut herself off from everyone they knew and stopped taking his calls. It had worked, for three years at least.

‘Do you want me to go?’ he asked, knowing that she would ask him to at some point.

She turned and rested her head on his shoulder, ‘not if you don’t want to’.

‘You know I don’t want to’, he placed his arm above her head and ran his fingers through her hair.

‘Stay...for a day or so if you want to’ she kissed him on the shoulder.

‘I can stay for the weekend’ he said.

She closed her eyes, knowing this would only end in heartache. ‘Then I’ll be yours for the weekend’.

*

The weekend was spent basked in the kind of peace they’d never find in the city. They took long walks around the woods, hand in hand. She pointed out the plants and wildlife and he soaked up every word.

In the afternoon, they just drove around the winding lanes, the mud covering his tyres. Sometimes they would talk, but never about the past, reluctant to let it in. At other times they’d drive in silence, her hand on his knee. Soon enough they’d get back to the cottage, restraining themselves until they shut the cottage door.

Inevitably, they’d end up warm and content under the covers, watching the autumn leaves flutter past her bedroom window and sleeping for the rest of the day.

Afterwards, they’d cook together and drink wine on the rug in front of the fire, her legs laying on top of his, talking about everything and nothing.

But time couldn’t stop for them and as she sat in bed watching him button up his shirt, that ache filled her again. It was an ache he too had in him, put there by her.

‘Am I going to see you again?’ he asked as he tucked in his shirt.

She put on a smile even though she knew he would sense it was a fake one, ‘maybe one day...just promise me something?’

He looked at her wrapped in the covers wanting nothing more to climb back into that warm bed.

‘Don’t wait for me’ she continued.

He bowed his head, looking at the floor, clearing his throat, ‘then don’t ask me to stay’.

She nodded silently.

He knelt on the bed and kissed her on the forehead, taking in the smell of her one last time.

‘I’ll see you out’ she said, running her hand over his forearm.

‘No stay here. It’s better like this’. He got up and opened the bedroom door, taking one last glance at her.

Somehow he knew, whatever road he went down, it would always lead back to her.

The end.

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

ROUND ONE

It’s time to VOTE!!

Hey guys! It’s officially time to vote in Round 1 of Chopped Madness! The structure is simple! The fifteen (15) fics we received this round have been paired up head-to-head. Your job is to go through the eight pairings and select which author of the two fics you think deserves to move on to Round 2! The first poll, you will be asked to rank all 15 fics, the way you did in the Qualifying Round. This will help us to break any ties, and we will use this ranking to reorder the authors for the Bunker Brackets for Round 2.

At the end of the voting period, we will announce the EIGHT (8) authors who have been Chopped!! If you are not Chopped, that means you will be moving on to the next round, so keep an eye out for that post to be sure! If you aren’t sure you can always send us a message to check!

You can vote here at the updated survey!

Updated Voting Link: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/QM5B5TP

---

Unfortunately, one of our authors was unable to write. We have included a “BYE” in the position where their fic would be in the head to head, and informed their bracket partner. The author has been “Chopped”, and their Qualifying Round fic will be revealed in our Chopping Block post after the voting has ended.

---

The 15 fics that we receieved for this round can be found below, or on AO3 here! Each fic follows the Theme [Angst], includes the Tropes [Strangers to Lovers] and [Roadtrip], and has a central Character focus on [Harper McIntyre]! When you vote, please be sure to take into consideration the USE of all these elements, because, as with all other Chopped events, the purpose is to select the authors who best utilize the requirements!

into a cloven pine (Rated T) [Harper/Maya]

Summary: Maya starts sitting with her at meals, shrugging aside the judgmental looks of delinquents and Mountain Men alike. When Harper tries to delicately suggest that she sit somewhere else for her own good, Maya levels her with an icy glare and threatens to kick her under the table.

For some reason, that makes Harper giggle and she figures that someone who makes her giggle must be alright to sit with.

So, she ignores Miller’s warning head shakes and Fox’s teary-eyed frowns and she plays footsie with Maya Vie. Life is weird.

She might as well just go with it.

I Need You (Like I Need a Gaping Head Wound) (Rated T) [Harper/Echo] *Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death*

Summary: “And that was the new track from Lou Bega: ‘Mambo No. 5' off his new album ‘A Little Bit of Mambo'. Stay tuned for Backstreet, Britney Spears, and The Red Hot Chili Peppers comin’ at’cha in the next hour.” 

Harper shuts off the radio and leans back in the driver’s seat, taking her hands off the wheel and rubbing her temples. Traffic is worse than normal today, meaning she’s gonna be late. She’s already 45 minutes late getting back from lunch, meaning that Roan will probably call her into his office. That’s the last thing she needs today. 

Harper nearly jumps out of her skin when the passenger door opens and a tall, brunette woman vaults into the car. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU D--” 

“Drive,” the woman says, voice barely above a whisper.

venus, planet of love was destroyed by global warming (Rated G) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: In a world tainted by darkness, Harper meets Monty.

Take back my life (Prove I’m alright) (Rated T) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: Harper and Monty have been married for ten years and she is beginning to notice the cracks in their marriage.  Will a road trip for a job interview be able to save their marriage?

Like dust behind the wagon (Rated T) [Harper/Monre] *Major Character Death*

Summary: Harper and her family were in search of a better life in Oregon when tragedy struck.  She didn't think she would ever recover, and then she met Monroe, a lone traveler looking for a ride to Fort Bridger.

you can bloom again (Rated T) [Harper/Clarke]

Summary: Harper's always been a survivor.

She's survived an orphaned childhood, kidnapping, and torture. When a wave of fire stretches across the sky, she knows that she'll survive this, too - but when she meets a girl with a smile brighter than the sun, Harper wonders if surviving alone is what she really wants.

The Hardest Thing (Rated T) [Harper/Emori]

Summary: After shooting Baylis and escaping to the woods, Emori was utterly alone. She travelled through the lands of the Coalition, stealing from anyone and everyone. All of that changed when she met the last sky girl after the Mountain Men wiped out the rest of her people.

Harper had a map to a peaceful village across the sea, and Emori had nothing to lose.

Release (Rated T) [Harper/Murphy]

Summary: Her whole body is still tense, but this long habit of distrust has been formed in her, is not native to her, and his lazy, laconic air tempts her to put herself at ease. And she is curious. Behind them, the Detention Center is teeming, yet the desolation of the dim light and barren highway makes Harper feel as if they were the only two on the wide Earth.

Upon being released from the Arkadia Juvenile Detention Center, Harper takes a road trip to California with an old friend, his boyfriend, and another recently released delinquent.

What the Hell is a Pulmonary Embolism? (Rated T) [Harper & Clarke/Murphy]

Summary: Harper McIntyre wasn’t trained for this.

She was just a tour guide, how was she supposed to deal with the bus crashing in the middle of nowhere?

something more than momentary (Rated T) [Harper/Murphy]

Summary: The first rule of working for the Princess Protection Program was, well, keep your princess safe no matter the cost.

The second rule was don't get attached. Agent Murphy had followed that rule to the letter for years and never had an issue.

But now he's stuck in a car for the foreseeable future with a princess and a gunshot wound, and everything he's ever believed in just might be changing.

and the road gets tough (Rated M) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: It’s the end of the world and Harper McIntyre is done running. She’s done fighting against a life that relentlessly keeps pushing her down. But she has her son to worry about and she desperately wants him to have a new life and to experience it all. When they hit the road, she’s helped by a kind stranger who changes the course of things. Monty Green represents a life she wished she had been able to have, but it might still be too late.

everyone’s a different flower (Rated T) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: Harper McIntyre's life on Earth has been a simple one, and she's always been happy with that. But with a single diagnosis, her simple life is completely upended.

Her best friends think that an intergalactic trip across the universe is just what she needs to get her mind off of things. Raven thinks the change in scenery will do Harper some good. Clarke thinks the girl time will help.

(Harper thinks the cute space-botanist she meets might just do the trick.)

I wanna shoot the whole day down (Rated T) [Harper/Monty] *Major Character Death*

Summary:  Tell me why I don't like Mondays...

Or Tuesdays, or Wednesdays, or any day since you left us.

Never Gonna Give You Up (Rated T) [Harper/Raven]

Summary: Unknown: Hey, Monty guilted me into a road trip with those damned puppy dog eyes and seeing as neither of you can be in the same car, I am your road trip Uber. Name's Raven.  

Harper: Rookie mistake, you never look Monty in the eyes. That's how you lose.  

A road trip, huh?

Macushla (Rated T) [Harper/Monty]

Summary: Harper Noelle Margaret McIntyre, Countess of Rothes, must survive the unthinkable, when the unsinkable ship hits an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic

// aka the Titanic AU that isn't Jack and Rose

---

[allsystemsarenotgo]

A friend and I were talking one day, and she shared this with me.

She was much like me, raised with a quarter between the knees, terrified of the things we were taught to avoid and trying to live reasonably noble lives. She wasn't allowed Birth Control for religious reasons (pro-life) as well as to prevent enablism. Her family was much more religious than mile, though I still went to church during my Sophomore, Junior, and Senior years of high school.

She married a guy 10 years older than herself, who was a long-time routine customer of her family's business. They married right after she graduated high school, long before she applied to higher education.

She is a nurse now. She has 3 kids, works long hours at a hospital, and her husband is a successful farmer as he always has been. She struggled at times, but she made it through.

She knows life would have been easier without the first child, but she was innocent and naiive and I think she realizes that she jumped in the deep end of the pool before learning how to swim.

I did the same thing.

All through high school I pledged to abstinence until marriage. I hated everything to do with sex. The topic, the drama, the action, the result. I wanted nothing to do with it.

But I also never dated through grade school at all. I never had a girlfriend. Plenty of crushes (M.S. above being one of them), but just as many denials. Because I didn't drink, smoke, do drugs, have FFA animals, or play athletics, I also wasn't a member of any social group. I was always the kid in the corner of the cafeteria scarfing food down in 5 minutes and sleeping the other 20, or asking to go to a teacher's classroom, where it was serene and quiet.

My freshman year of college, I even wrote an essay on abstinents for English class. That really didn't go over well in regards to having to read it out loud. There might as well have been fruit flying at me.

My dorm was set up such that we had 3 private bedrooms that shared a living space and bathroom. One of the roommates always had girls over, and he never tried to be quiet (or if he did, he failed...badly).

So those two things were my indoctrination to college life. Getting judged and leered at for writing an abstinence essay, and having to listen to a roommate multiple times a week.

Towards the very end of my freshman year, a girl from high school messaged me. We started talking, and she admitted that she had always had a crush on me and was too shy to ever say anything.

Error #1: For no good reason whatsoever, I agreed to formulate a relationship with this female

So when I moved home from the dorms, I hung out with the lass a few times, but my parents were moving out of the country and closer to my school, so I could live at home. That meant that this would now be a 1.5-hour-each-way medium-distance relationship.

So every 4th or 6th weekend during the remainder of that summer and into the fall semester, I would drive up and spend a day with her. Sometimes, I would drive her out of the country and into the city to give her a glimpse of escape (it was very impoverished where we grew up).

Error #2: Doing whatever made her happy

I really enjoyed the time that we spent together. She got me a purity necklace for Christmas that year. She said she understood that my preference meant something to me.

But then, something changed. She would start dropping enuindos and jokes and send me photos that I didn't ask for.

Error #3: Not standing up for myself

She said that I meant something to her, and asked me if she meant something to me. At the time, I did not comprehend that as a trap...but I wanted to make her happy, so I said "yes".

The next thing I know, she is booking a hotel for us for Valentine's day. Wherein, I learned a thing or two or five or ten that I really wasn't interested in learning in the first place.

-Provides Clorox to help scrub the thoughts from your mind-

After that, she wanted me to come see her more and more often. But I was tied up with school and life.

Mind you, we usually had a phone call every night, or at least every other night. Same time, right before bed. Sometimes we would fall asleep on the phone with eachother.

Error #4: Accepting anything as fact

Well one night, I called her, and she answered...but it was noisy in the background, like she was driving. But she never talked while driving, and wouldn't answer the phone with family in the car.

She said she was in a friend's car and they were going to the beach for the night, which was completely reasonable for the time of year and her group of friends. She cut the conversation short saying they had arrive, so we bid our greeting. But she didn't hang up, and something told me that I shouldn't either. So I didn't.

"Who was that?"

"Don't mind him. He was just calling to check on me. He's controlling like that."

"He sounds like a jerk"

"Enough about him. He won't do this."

-Provides more clorox-

And that's how I found out that her primal needs were more important than our "relationship".

Unfortunately, shortly after I broke up with her, I was sent a photo of her quite visibly pregnant. Fortunately, the timetable did not add up to Valentine's day (aside of the fact that it was physically/biologically 95% impossible).

That summer, I started a job at the student newspaper. Right off the bat, one of the graphic artists and I got along very well. We spent way too much time at work talking to eachother and goofing off, instead of working. Enough so that our boss took notice and things got tense for a bit with him. We still cranked out work no problem, but we were both too young to understand workplace policy and procedure when it comes to "dating but not dating", which is basically exactly what we were doing. We spent alot of time together. I would go to her dorm after class and we would watch movies and just goof off or do whatever. We enjoyed time together.

Error #1: So cliché. So, so cliché.

So Valentine's day rolls around, and she asks 'the question'.

So something in biology: There is a term called "Once an animal has the taste of blood, they will always hunt for it." Unfortunately, humans can sometimes be considered a sub-species of the animal kingdom.

Like the dumbass that I am, I accept to the terms and conditions.

And at the end of the night, she asks: "So are we officially dating now?"

"I...I guess?", I answered nervously.

Errors #2 to #457: Not escaping

And just like that, I was suckered into nearly 2.5 years of having a FWB while having to, very creatively at times, mask it as a legitimate relationship.

We enjoyed the time we spent together.

We enjoyed going places together.

My mum liked her, her parents liked me. (Dad was skeptical at best and thought I could do better)

The small issue: I struggled to communicate at times. I didn't know how to find my voice, so there were times that I would have to text her how I felt. Sometimes I would hide in a corner just so I could cry. (I later learned of my autism, and it all made sense and I learned how to resolve this)

The big issue: I was completely burned out on intimacy. After almost 2.5 years of emulating laboratory rabbits, I was done. My usefulness had expired.

The biggest issue: We were both suffering academically. We had no common interests at all anymore, and we had put eachother ahead of our own academics so much that we were both risking academic expulsion.

So we mutually agreed to break up.

She dropped out of university (and never went back or finished her schooling), and I changed majors twice before getting my Bachelor of Science.

My first relationship lasted from June 2009 to April 2010.

My second "relationship" lasted from February 2011 until May 2012 (Although we started spending time together in significant amounts starting August 2010)

I have not had a girlfriend since May 2012.

I had one friend in my senior year of college, who gave me some non-physical affection while also keeping me firmly locked in the friendzone. But quality time, by itself, only goes so far.

I have not had any physical affection since May 2012.

I have not spent quality time with a female since May 2013.

For most of that time, from May 2013 to August 2019, I really didn't mind it at all. I have been so tied up in working, hobbies, and life in general, that I completely ignored women.

But as my birthday loomed near in October 2019, it donned on me....I was on a crash course to being eternally lonely.

So I have tried online dating. I have gone on a few first dates, but no second dates.

Sometimes, I want to give up. The fight just doesn't seem worth the reward.

And honestly?

Sometimes I feel exactly like my friend's remarks at the top of this post. Sometimes I wish I would have been a little more rebellious, a little more care-free, a little more out-there.

But at the same time, ...

Sometimes I wish that neither relationship would have ever happened.

That I would have never learned the true definition of intimacy.

That I would have never done whatever it took to make the other person happy.

That I wouldn't have been such an easy push-over.

That I would have stuck to my initial pledge in life

That I would have spoke up more and defended myself.

All I am now, is damaged product.

I don't truly know how to love.

I don't truly know how to feel.

I don't truly know how to be myself.

I don't truly know how to be intimate.

I am human, I am male, so of course I have my moments. But I don't want that to be the reason for a relationship. I want it to be the least-important factor, or not a factor at all.

I want a relationship founded on trust, honesty, fortitude, common interests, personality, maybe even a little faith.

Not intimacy.

I just want to not be invisible, or to only have one attribute visible.

I want to be seen for all the other attributes.

I am not A-sexual. I still feel emotions and feelings. I just don't want to let them out of the locked box which contains them. Not without lots of context and preparedness.

[skyblue-369]

We are so many on this world, but everybody starts their path here in exact the same way, don't they?

Somehow, that was not my case because I shared my birth with only 42 other children.

On The Twelfth Hour Of The First Day Of October 1989, Forty Three Women Around The World Gave Birth. This Was Unusual Only In The Fact That None Of The Women Had Been Pregnant When The Day First Began.

One of those unfortunate ladies was my mother. I don't know much about her. Just that she happened to pass by a very calm city in Northern Italy when I burst in her life. She didn't even have the time to look at me in the eyes that she decided to leave me by the door of a catholic orphanage. I still don't understand the reason why she didn't at least try to raise me by herself, but it's better like this. I must have caused her a hard trauma, and in addition we would have both lived a sad existence knowing that she didn't want me in the first place.

Anyway, being a religious building, there were nuns to run it. They welcomed me with open arms and named me Maria, even though they saw right away what I was capable of.

They always used to tell me how everytime I cried they had to wear gloves to hold me up because I would cover their hands in musk. Or wait, wait, wait! Also that I created little flower patterns on most of the hall floors when I moved my first steps. Yeah, I can grow plants by the way, but let's move on!

I brought some troubles with me, but they couldn't see a monster through this little girl's laughter. I was just another God's gift that needed care and protection. Actually, precisely because I was special, I was the one to receive it the most.

Besides the common bedroom, I had a space all for myself to practice in. Someone would expect some private garden, maybe a backyard. Now that I think of it, mine looked kinda like a cage, a room whose floor was covered in a thick layer of soil. Only the roof was replaced with a glass one in order to give me access to sunlight. I was supervised for all of my "playtime", when I mostly grew food for our supplies. No high plants were allowed except for fruit trees. Sometimes they'd let me recreate some pictures from my botany books, nothing more. Those brick walls made me frustrated, but I was too superficial at the time to understand they wanted to prevent me from escaping.

People continued to reassure me that I was doing good and that everyone relied on me to survive. They drowned my curiosity with privileges such as eating sweets more often than the others, having a higher education or receiving better gifts at Christmas. I cannot say I was living in luxury, but the nuns did their bests to make me live happily.

On the other side, the only thing they couldn't replace was my lack of affection.

The nuns treated me too well, but the other kids didn't seem happy about it.

It's insane that we've lived under the same roof for so many years, but we felt like acquaintances to each other. Although there was tension between us, they were never mean to me. Or maybe they were just gossiping when no one was watching. As a kid, I didn't understand how true friends are supposed to behave towards you. However, I knew that in friendship there should be a sort of feeling of comfort when staying together, and well, we didn't have it.

At the beginning, I was trying too hard to gain their trust, but then I started repeating to myself "I'm way better than everybody here. I could grow a whole forest in less than a minute if I wanted to. Who needs them? I'll have crowds cheering me one day."

...weird flex but okay

Unfortunately, I hoped to escape my very first failure by finding a family. I insisted and I've had some meetings with nice couples. Even if I couldn't show my powers, I was flawless. Aaand I received total rejection.

Probably it was all just a set up. For once, I envied the other children. Who wouldn't in my position? I had so much love to give and I would have been a good daughter! What have I possibly done wrong? I remember crying on the floor of my private room a few times and getting surrounded by weeds when I got up.

Time passed by and I ended up being eleven and without a family.

I used to dream about moving to the Amazon forest to look for a new species of flower. Maybe I would have found a guy who could talk to animals, who knows?

And then, I fell on a banana peel and slid into a series of unlucky events.

One day, we were having lunch and a silly argument came in. I'm still a teenager, it should be pretty normal at my age, shouldn'it? These two kids were mocking me and they were getting really heavy on me. I wasn't used to insults. Moreover, those words looked more and more like pieces of a bigger truth to me, so much that I hurt myself by pushing my hands over my ears. However, it was a single phrase that started it all.

"How can you even think that someone would love a narcissistic freak like you?"

I remember falling on my knees and closing my eyes, hands still on my ears. I just wanted silence, just for a moment. And I had it, indeed. It's only that when I opened my eyes, I saw them. The boys were lifeless, speared by some big branches all covered in blood. Branches that I made. It was my fault. It was my fault.

I needed to be calmed by those I thought as my loved ones, but I just receieved a shocked stare by every single nun. Some were standing still, while others were taking the children away.

"I can't stay here..." my body finally responded and I started running away. I restrained myself from throwing up. I went out and while I was climbing over the gate my left leg got stuck into a tube full of screws. I took it out right away without caring about my open wounds or how much they were making me suffer. I had to go on, I didn't even know where. I was finally visiting the world I wanted to see so desperately and I didn't even realise it. Eventually, I got to the harbour and both the stress and the seagulls put me to sleep in a ship container.

When I woke up, I didn't expect to be on the other side of the world. A bunch of sailors had brought me to the hospital of a little mountain town in the States called Anise Peak. When the nurse spoke English to me I freaked out. Luckily, I had taken some English classes at the orphanage and I could get away with it. Of course I ran away. They would have called the police and have sent me back to where I was from. I was wandering again, this time in the woods that surrounds the city. I was feeling completely lost. The single thought of the horror I had just committed made me impossible to use my powers in the future, so my chances of dying were higher. Nevertheless, something made me change my mind. Maybe God wanted me to stay longer and decided to bring me to a waterfall. I was taking a cold shower when I slipped on a door of leaves and saw that there was a hidden cave behind the waterfall. Eventually, it became my shelter. I've lived in here for almost three years now. How did I make it?

Well, thanks to my abilities I don't really need money for food. But after a while, when I found out that I couldn't live only on vegetables and fruit, I had to make up something. Almost outside the city old Damien has a supermarket, who unfortunately had a big problem at getting fresh veggies in such a cold area. And here it comes a farmer who lives nearby and is always busy, so sends his daughter to offer the man his services. Every two weeks I magically give him tons of goods in exchange of a little pay and some products such as bread or soap. I know it's not legal at all, but people are simple here and Damien was making a lot of money anyway. For me, it's tiring because I feel dizzy after I grow plants for a long period and because of transport, but at least I could live decently. The problem is that I had to be subtle to people's eyes. At night I have to put out the fire, or if I have to go out aside from work hours I have to climb trees and walk very high. I learned with time, and my scars prove it. Or maybe I can't walk around the town because everyone would recognise a new face.

I cannot call this "life" or "home", but it's fine at the moment. I get lonely from time to time, but I can always spy on families that come here camping. It's not that weird and it improves my language skills.

Oh my! Are those...gunshots? From the woods? What the hell is happening? It's better if I go check...

If you want to know more, go check:

[kirsty585-scottiegirl585]

Lunch Break

Pairing: Lena Luthor/Reader

Summary: The reader surprises Lena on her lunch break. Cue cuteness, fluffy and a bit of making out.

Words: 1,296

A/N: So this is the first story I've written in a couple of months, the first one I've written for Lena and the first one from a reader's perspective so I hope it doesn't suck too much. Started writing it for my good friend @mcgrathandwives and was supposed to be a little bit smutty and revolve around Lena and the boots she wore in 4x02 (I think). This is what it turned into.

As soon as Lena walked into the room, you knew you were fucked. The black and white floral top, tucked into her sinfully tight skirt was one thing. But the thing that made your chest constrict, part your lips and stop the blood flowing to your brain? Those thigh high boots. The one's that were clinging to Lena's soft and supple skin. The very skin that your lips had trailed up, tongue collecting a combination of sweat and salt, the musky scent that could only belong to Lena overpowering your senses.

She brushed into her office, eyes glued to the large stack of paperwork in her hands. Eve had let you in, not twenty minutes ago, stating that Lena was just finishing up a meeting. You could barely even remember the reason you were visiting, the bag of food on the small table completely forgotten about as you watched her hips sway, a little more than normal with the fabric clinging to her legs.

Reaching her desk, she set down the pile of paper, back tensed as she leaned slightly over the piece of furniture. The position causing an arch in the bottom of her back, the material of the skirt clinging that bit more tightly around her ass. You couldn't help yourself as your eyes followed the curve and all you could think about was standing behind her. Hand pressed firmly into the arch, while the other reached down the front of her skirt. Stuttered gasps escaping her mouth as you whispered in her ear all the things you could do to her in this position.

A startled gasp brought you crashing out of your daydreams, a hot blush covering your neck and face, realizing you had been caught. The smirk that lined her face told you that she knew exactly where your mind had drifted off to. Her pupils had widened and her chest was rising and falling ever so slightly quicker, so you knew that she was clearly enjoying your gaze.

“Hey, I wasn't expecting to see you until tonight, “ The soft undertone of an Irish accent did nothing to help the blood flow, currently rushing down your body. It was well-known that Lena had spent a fair bit of time at a boarding school in Ireland during her younger years, but the slight accent was not heard often. She knew what it did to you though, and would often let it slip when teasing you. Just one of the many examples of trust that built the foundations of your relationship.

“I knew you had that big meeting today, figured you probably skipped lunch preparing for it. So I brought you some food from that vegetarian restaurant down the road that you like, “ One hand brushed the back of your neck, slightly embarrassed at the romantic gesture, while the other hand waved vaguely in the direction of the bag.

You knew about Lena's past. How previous lovers had seen Lena as a prize to be won and a trophy to wear on their arms. How in college some had only acted interested, so they could brag later to their friends about how they had spent the night with her. Even as an adult, most of them either just wanted an opportunity to either sell a story to the press or have her as a status symbol. Whether she felt loved or not didn't come into the equation, as she was only supposed to look good while accompanying them to whatever social event was lined up.

You took it upon yourself to show her what a relationship should be like. Sending her flowers, just to brighten her day. Bringing her lunch, when she had busy days because she would often forget to eat. Leaving little notes around her house, each one listing a different thing that you loved about her. It had taken a while before she got comfortable with the sweet gestures.

One night in her house, the two of you curled up on her couch, an open bottle of wine and a roaring fire warming the air. She confessed to you that in the beginning she had worried that all the things you were doing were a trap. Lure her in, thinking you cared, only for you to betray her like everyone else had. She understood now, that you did these things because you truly cared, and she actually looked forward to each gesture now.

A hand stroking the side of your face brought you back into the present. Eyebrows furrowed, concerned she had done something to cause you to go silent. Tilting your head slightly, you were able to bring your lips to hers. A gentle promise that nothing was wrong. Her other hand moved up your neck, finding purchase there as she deepened the kiss.

You brought your hands up to her shoulders, kneading the clenched muscles for a moment, before beginning a descent. They came down the front of her chest, over the supple swell of her breasts before spreading along her sides. A moan slipped through her lips as your fingers splayed across her lower back. Reaching her ass you gripped a bit harder, pulling her more tightly against yourself. Not yet entirely satisfied, you continued down to her thighs, lifting her up with ease.

Long legs wrapped around your waist, both of you groaning as she started to rock against your stomach. The hand at your neck tightened as she got comfortable. Your lips had more of a purpose now and you waited for the right moment to slip your tongue in.

Stumbling backwards, the edge of the sofa met your legs. Somehow you managed to fall back, in a graceful movement and landed squarely on your ass. Lena, being the genius that she is, had the foresight to unwrap her legs as you fell, so her knees rested aside your thighs rather than behind your back. Both of her hands were in your hair, desperately trying to remove any space between the two of you. Her tongue met yours and started a familiar dance.

So caught up in each other, neither of you had noticed the office doors swinging open, nor the ball of sunshine that had swiftly entered.

“Ah my eyes! Stop eating each others faces!” Kara Danvers, also known as Supergirl, squealed. Hands immediately covering her eyes, before she spun around so her back faced you and Lena.

You could feel the heat from Lena's blush as she hid her head in your neck. All you wanted to do was push the Kryptonian back out of the office and continue having your way with your girlfriend.

“I'm not turning around until you both are separated!”

“Well you'll be standing there for an awfully long time then Danvers, “ You savoured the last few minutes in Lena's embrace, knowing that it would be at least several hours before you saw her again. Lena let out a contented sigh, clearly not wanting to let go of you either.

“Guys.....come on.....” Kara whined, normally something like that would annoy you, but the Danvers sisters held a special place in your heart. By now Lena had started unwrapping herself from you anyway.

Getting up, you brushed your uniform, trying to make it a little more presentable before doing the same to your hair.

“I could swing past after work and pick you up if you wanted? Maybe we could even grab a bite to eat?” She simply nodded before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Sounds perfect, “ She strode towards her desk, boss mode reactivated. Though she couldn't help but send you a small smirk before you left.

Passing by Kara, you couldn't help but lean in and whisper jokingly, “Paybacks a bitch Danvers.”

[wittykins]

Art by the lovely @x-scuse-you for the DarkOctober event.

Home

By: WittyKins

Summary: It starts with a phone call and a request that sends her running down to the lair at a breakneck pace. Now, she is stuck in a room with one of her dearest friends, who is coping with some personal demons. Will she be able to help him navigate the darkest corners of his mind or, will his pain affect those around him?

Warnings: Some descriptions of violence.

She was not summoned to the lair under the most desirable of circumstances...

In fact, it was as Michelangelo hysterically squawked over the phone earlier this morning, "a major big fat giant super code purple!" Slamming the phone to the receiver, she wasted no time getting ready for a voyage underground. Tossing her red hair into a messy bun, she quickly tugged on a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. Grabbing her pre-packed backpack, she flew out of the front door of her apartment, making her way to the home of her subterranean friends. Her sneakers slapped against the wet bricks while her steady breathing ricocheted through the damp air. Her clothes and hair were weighed down by the weight of her sweat, and her backpack which clung to her shoulders jostled violently.

As she navigated the endless maze of the underground, she thought the worst.

Had one of them fallen ill?

Or, had been captured by an enemy?

Perhaps one was mortally wounded?

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she pressed onward. Fear seeped into her body. Her blood felt viscous as her heavy heart pumped the fluid towards her flailing limbs. Sliding around a corner, she fell unceremoniously to the floor in a desperate attempt to avoid a collision with a turtle-shaped figure shrouded by shadows. Sitting up slowly, she tenderly rubbed the back of her neck. Out of the darkness, a robust green hand appeared. April, smiling meekly, took it and allowed its owner to hoist her carefully to her feet. Dusting off the seat of her pants while mumbling, she spotted a pair of worn blue mask tails draped lazily across a broad shoulder.

In hindsight, Leo meeting her in the sewer tunnels was the wisest decision. As she babbled off questions with tears in her eyes, he spoke in a hushed tone, much like a mother to her frightened child. He assured her that they were all accounted for and that none had been injured beyond repair. Though he flashed her a gentle smile, she could sense that something was off. Not to mention, he was wearing what looked like the infamous Life Alert device around his neck. His demeanor, which was usually relaxed and confident, seemed tense and rigid.

As they walked the rest of the way back to their lair, Leo occasionally dropped hints as to why April's presence had been summoned. From what she could gather from his calculated statements, something was going on with Donatello, and it seemed like he wanted her to figure it out.

Seemed simple enough.

Their pace slowed to a stop as they reached the entrance to the lair. Leo opened the door with a small smile and motioned for April to enter. Thanking him softly, she adjusted her backpack and wordlessly strode through the entrance. Upon entering the lair, the first thing that April noticed was the deafening silence. It felt like she had left the real world and stepped into a live recreation of a silent film.

Walking further into the lair with wide eyes, April glanced towards the living room. To her right, she could see a large panel of televisions whose screens were as black as the ocean at night. Rubbing the back of her neck, she nervously murmured under her breath. The worn couch, devoid of any form of life, looked strange. She had grown accustomed to seeing at least one of the turtles perched upon its cushions with a remote or video game controller in hand. Pivoting around, she grimaced at the state of the rest of the lair.

There was no one lifting weights while listening to music.

No one was banging pots around in the kitchen while asking anyone within earshot where certain ingredients had been moved.

No sounds of sparing came crawling from under the cracks of the door to the dojo.

No one grumbling about doing chores or completing a set of exercises as a form of punishment.

There was nothing.

For the first time the lair was in complete silence, a ghost town of its former self.

April's eyes swept over her surroundings only to land on Raphael and Michelangelo, who stood near a closed door. To her surprise, she could immediately see that they were wearing the same device around their necks as Leo. Smirking to herself, she made a mental note to ask them about their newest fashion craze after she found out what was ailing Don.

Squinting her eyes, she saw hints of an animated conversation. She could see their lips moving as well as the occasional wild gesture. Still, she heard no sound. Straining her ears, she craned her neck towards the two turtles who were openly discussing some critical matter in hushed tones.

A green blinking light situated above the door caught April's attention. The room was occupied, and the occupant, whom she concluded to be Donatello, was nestled inside. The green light meant the door was unlocked, which came to a relief. April stood in the middle of the lair, taking in the sights. Aside from the lack of noise, everything seemed to be in its place. Getting lost in her thoughts, she tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

The sound of the front door slamming sailed through the lair like a raging freight train. As its roar shot through April, she gasped at the abruptness. The noise filled the deadened space, expelling the suffocating silence that clung to the air. At that moment the metallic screech that sliced through the stillness prompted everything to return to normalcy.

As if on cue, both Raphael and Michelangelo shifted their attention away from each other towards April. They stood against the wall, staring at her with the same calculated expression as Leo when she collided with him in the sewers.

"Hi, guys," she quipped while offering a nervous wave in their direction. After a few moments, Mikey broke the silence that existed between the two parties and awkwardly bounded in her direction. Grabbing her lightly by the wrist, he tugged her towards Don's Lab.

"We're glad you could make it, April," he began slowly, a forced smile creeping to his face. Motioning in the direction of Leo who had quietly joined her he tilted his head towards the closed door. "I'm sure that the good ol' Boy in Blue clued you into what's going on."

"Well, yeah. Sort of. Leo just told me that there is something wrong with Don and he wanted me to talk to him."

Mikey shot a quick glance over his shoulder. Turning his attention back to April, he shrugged. "Pretty much. Sorry that I called your apartment in a panic. I just didn't really know what to do. Normally, um, when one of us is...well...like Don, we'd ask Master Splinter." Shrugging his shoulders, a small whine escaped. "Anyways, he's out of town and us kind of figured you'd be the next best at solving this...little problem."

"Little...problem?"

Furrowing her brow, April exchanged a quizzical look between the three turtles. Everything about their demeanor seemed off. Panic crept into the back of her mind, and she wondered just what they had wanted her to talk to Donatello about. With a shrug, Raphael quickly turned the doorknob. The door crept open with a pained squeak revealing a room illuminated with a faint electronic glow. Turning around, she flashed the other three turtles a quizzical look before shutting the door, the room's darkness consuming her.

For more, please follow this link: