#hating how its not cold enough if i make it & dump it right over ice ive only been drinking hot tea & now i prefer hot tea to iced tea

[ceilingfan5]

Y– It makes me think of you. please?

The low fire crackles and dances, waving its own eulogy on the damp breeze that needles right through Taako’s four layers of clothing, and there’s no way to deny the way it hurts. He didn’t even need it tonight–dinner was a scrounged hunk of cheese and some olives–but no, no, he needed it. It hurts when he doesn’t have one, and it hurts when he does. He feels like a moth, dashing himself among the coals or mourning the shape of it inside him, and he hates this. He hates this so deeply, pitch and sticky, that it threatens to choke him, spill out of his mouth and drown the world, but he swallows it and nudges the fire with a stick instead.

He can’t afford to be noticed, and the light is hard to miss in the depths of the forest so thick it feels like he’s underwater. But he can’t–he can’t go a night without one. 

Taako is a patently unserious person. That makes moments like this even harder to stomach. It’s hard to laugh it off with fear, dripping and cold, in your heart. It’s hard not to freeze like a rabbit at every cracking twig, every rustle, every silence too loud. He never was the kind of guy who prayed, although he’s pretended a time or two, just for a meal or bit of shelter, however temporary.

He talks to himself, sometimes, though. Maybe not himself–a self outside of his self, something realer than he ever was. The kind of person he’d be if he could care. Hardly an angel, but not quite the specter of death on his heels, either. A warm memory of something that almost felt like home, a fiction wrapped in thorns he can’t quite let go… but the pain keeps it from being too sweet to even consider his. Nothing real, nothing he could ever hope to grasp, but the last red coal at the bottom of his fire, the only thing that ever seems to keep his blood from icing over in his veins, anymore.

Stupid, embarrassing. What possible use could a hardened guy like him have for an imaginary friend? He never…he doesn’t think he ever played that sort of thing as a child, but he holds it with white knuckles now, on the run for his life? He doesn’t get it, and it feels foolish, but���

“It makes me think of you,” he whispers, no, barely breathes to the flames. No one can hear this. He doesn’t even want to hear it. He blinks back echoes of the light, eyes aching. “You aren’t even real. I don’t know a thing about you. But it makes me think of you.” 

Obviously she- it- fucking whatever the stupid game he’s playing doesn’t respond. It’s fake. Bullshit. The last swings of a man going down with nothing to show for all of it. 

Then again, why not? What’s stopping him? He opens his mouth and more falls out, words he didn’t think, let alone plan. It numbs his ears to listen, it feels wrong, makes his hair stand on end.

“I cut my hair,” he says. “You’d hate it.” Who? “I couldn’t be me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be me again. But maybe if they don’t hunt me down, it’ll grow back.” 

He stares as the flames get lower, slower. 

“It looked terrible anyway. I don’t want to look at myself anymore. It’s not right. Me! You know how vain I am. But I see my reflection and I want to hurl.”

Imagine if someone answered. Imagine if anyone could answer for this. He’s better off not even hoping. 

“I think I’m headed to Neverwinter.” This is news to him, but it sounds right. “I’ll get a job, or get tried and executed, either way, something will change. Something has to change.”

It starts to rain, and the fire fizzles. Taako throws his hood over his head and stands, staring at it, nearly enchanted, wanting so badly to understand and knowing he wouldn’t be able to even if it did make sense. 

“Something has to change,” he repeats, and he dumps dirt over the fire, smothering it completely. 

He puts his hood up, and tries to forget all that. It’s not doing him any good. Maybe things won’t get better, but at least they won’t stay the same. He wraps his arms tightly around himself, almost hard enough for his ribs to crack. The wanting is heavy on his tongue, poison, and he swallows hard. 

[thebatfamfanatic]

Six Times He Met Her

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, guy taking advantage of a minor in first chap, mention of underage smut in fourth chap, making out?, violence, mentions of blood/injury, main character death, adult language, angst

A/N: First thing I’ve written on Tumblr!! Tell me if anybody likes it, or if I broke your heart. And yes, I know I’m evil.

1-

The first time he saw you was around 2:30 in the morning. Jason was squatting on the edge of a rooftop in Gotham, surveying the dark scenery below him.

Somehow, there was still plenty of traffic on the dirty streets, plenty of cars honking and driving around. Jason always wondered who the fuck needed to be somewhere at 2 am.

He fiddled with a loose seam on the Robin uniform he sported each night, hunting down the assholes of Gotham (pretty much 70% of the city) and putting them in jail, where they belonged.

At 16, Jason Todd technically should have been in bed, maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and doing some rich kid shit during the day. Of course, his adoptive (long story) father, Bruce Wayne, richest playboy in Gotham, employed him to be his little tweety bird sidekick at night, so here he was, at the rendezvous watching the streets. yay. A scream came from an alley nearby. Jason stood, stretched his legs, and leaped down from the roof onto the ground. He pinpointed the alleyway where the noise was coming from and raced into it. A girl, about his age, had been cornered by some bitch dude who thought he could take advantage of this girl. Not on Robin’s watch.

Before the girl could scream again, the guy was on the ground and Jason was helping her up. She shakily took the hand he offered her and looked him in the eye. Shit, she had gorgeous eyes. Jason froze for a second, lost in her beauty, before clearing in his throat.

“Hi. I’m Robin, uh, you probably knew that. Are you okay, ma’am?”

He hated the squeak that came out of his mouth. He sounded like a fucking 5 year old. The girl raised her eyebrow. She had recovered rather quickly. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m not some rich-ass royal whatever from Britain.” Jason liked this one. Sassy, but just so. He inquired where she lived, and she gave him the address. With his grappling hook at the ready, Jason pulled her closer to him. She jumped at the sudden closeness, but seemed to enjoy it. Maybe? He didn’t know shit about girls.

Jason shot the hook, propelling them up in the air, and landed on a rooftop. They continued this routine until he got in front of her house. It was still several seconds before he released her waist.

She started to walk towards her door, before stopping.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Jason blinked.

“I thought you were smart, Robin. Its my name, dumb ass.”

Then Y/N disappeared into her house. Jason stood there foolishly outside on her front lawn for a while, thinking about the girl he had just met. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he realized 10 minutes later that he had forgotten to ask about where her family was and everything.

Oh well. Bruce would be expecting him anyways. Jason shot his grappling hook and started home, still dazed from the encounter.

2-

The second time you guys met was two weeks later. Jason was just Jason Todd, a normal 10th grader living in the shadow of his (adopted) older brother Dick Grayson. Nobody paid much attention to him, and he didn’t really mind. Mostly Jason focused on getting A’s in class and then retreating into the library until Golden Boy’s after school clubs were over.

That is, until you walked in. It sounded as if you had just moved here, and for a minute, Jason felt a little sorry for you. I mean, Gotham wasn’t the greatest place to spend high school, or any grade, in his opinion.

You looked at your schedule from across the hall and then up at the locker next to him. For a second, your eyes met his and Jason was content. Lost in those brilliant colors. And then you looked away and started walking towards him. He realized just in time maybe he should stop leaning over your locker as you stopped next to him.

“Hi. Y/N. Just moved here. Looks like we’re locker neighbors.”

Jason was about to reply with “I know” but restrained himself. “Jason. Nice to meet you. Congrats on moving to this shitshow.”

He managed to not grin like an idiot as you laughed. The sound was music to his ears, like beautiful bells. God, he was being sappy.

“It’s not much of a shitshow when you’re here.” Ooh, she flirts too. Jason smirked as you opened your locker and dumped your stuff inside, pulling out the things you needed for your first class.

The first bell shrieked just as you closed your locker. “See you around, Jason.”

The small smile you gave him made his day, and he almost forgot to get to class. Yes, you were certainly one of a kind, and yes, Jason wanted you. The question was how to get to that point.

3-

You guys had a couple classes together, and frequently sat at the same table during lunch, so it wasn’t long before you were quick friends with Jason. However, the next notable time you met was a little while after he got your number.

Jason was laying on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr as he thought about ways to ask you out.

Y/N, would you grant me the honor of going out with me? No, too Romeo and Juliet.

Hey, want to grab ice cream? He had to make it clear what his intentions were. Then it wouldn’t be weird if he kissed you, right?

Oh, god, if he fucking kissed you….what would that be like? Before Jason could start fantasizing, his fingers were flying across the keyboard and he had sent a text to you. What did he do, what did he-

Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend. It seems like something you would enjoy.

Hm. That was actually pretty good. Where did he come up with that?

Jason had just started inspecting his fingers for some kind of sign of being possessed by smooth-with-girls-syndrome when you responded. He looked up and read it quickly.

Sure, I’d love that! Thanks for thinking of me ❤️

A heart. You had put a heart at the end of it. Did that mean you knew it was a date?

Jason sighed. He certainly hoped so.

4-

The weekend date went good. By the end of it, Jason was sure you knew it was a date. The second one passed, and then the third. The third one was when you hesitantly pecked him on the cheek. The fourth was when he kissed you actually. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was just enough for him to take you on a fourth date. An actual “will you go out with me on a date” kind of thing.

He took you to a restaurant in the fancy part of things. You two ate food that two broke 16 year olds technically shouldn’t have been able to afford, but Bruce helped Jason out.

Jason drove you home afterwards and discussed the topic of the upcoming summer during the car ride. What you were doing, where he was going. The entire time, Jason had butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to act. Was he messing it all up, or were you actually into him?

Once he parked in front of your house and walked you up to the stoop, you looked at him. He noticed you were biting your lip nervously, and god, why did he think that was so hot? “My parents aren’t home.” It was the softest Jason had ever heard you speak, but he knew what you meant. He smiled gently, and kissed you again. This one was destined to last longer, and before either of you realized it, you had opened your door and you were leading him to your bedroom.

That night was one neither of you would forget, and by the end of it, Jason had officially asked out successfully.

5-

You and Jason spent a lot of time together after that. You met his older brother, Dick (who was very happy for Jason, too happy in his opinion) and his dad, Bruce Wayne. Bruce was cool, but very busy all the time.

By two months, Jason still hadn’t told you his identity as Robin, and he was running out of excuses. One day, you confronted him, assuming he was cheating on you. He tried everything, but he had to go out on patrol.

Jason left that night assuming you were broken up. The entire patrol, he wasn’t himself. Truth was, he loved you so much he was afraid of losing you. That had become his greatest fear. It was that night everything went wrong.

6-

You were out taking a late night walk. Down by the pier, a cold wind was blowing, and as you walked past warehouse after warehouse, you pulled your coat tighter.

You were affected as well, and confused about where you and your boyfriend stood. Did you guys just breakup? Did he love you? Did–

A scream echoed from one of the warehouses. You turned, afraid of stepping closer but afraid of leaving the person. Eventually, your curiosity won over and you climbed up several crates to peer into the window.

What you saw inside almost made you scream yourself. Robin, the hero everybody talked about, lay defenseless and bloody on the ground as a tall man-the Joker- whacked him over and over again with a crowbar.

You gasped, wanting to help, but you knew that would be foolish. You would just get in the way for a minute. Tears started to form in your eyes as Robin weakly cried out from the pain. He looked so…helpless.

Joker relentlessly beat him with the crowbar, and Robin’s mask began to come off. You rubbed the tears from your eyes just as the mask fell to the ground.

“No.” was the only thing that you could muster. Jason lay on the ground in the bloody Robin suit. Jason fucking Todd. There was your boyfriend, being beaten to death by the asshole of all assholes. That was why he kept disappearing at night, because he fucking protected the city!

You were mad at yourself for being so cruel to Jason without knowing what was really going on. You barely paid attention as Batman and Nightwing suddenly burst through the windows.

Joker laughed, and said something you couldn’t hear from the outside. Probably taunting Batman as he watched his apprentice get beat to death.

A fight broke out, Batman lunging at Joker as Nightwing rushed to Jason, laying broken on the ground. You had just enough time to duck as a Batarang came swooping out of the hands of the Caped Crusader and straight through the window you were looking through.

It was then you realized how close Jason was to death, and what you needed to do. The window pricked your jacket as you jumped through it, but you didn’t care. Gymnastics back in 6th grade helped when you landed awkwardly. Nightwing spun around, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that was Dick, which meant Bruce was Batman.

However, none of that mattered when Jason was half dead in front of you. Nightwing- Dick- made no effort to stop you as you knelt in front of Jason. “No, no, no.” You cradled his head in your hands, trying hard not to recognize how limp his body was, and how his chest barely moved as he struggled to breathe.

Jason’s eyes were closed, tears running down his face silently. You were crying as well, mumbling curses and things that made no sense.

“Please, don’t be dead. Please, I-I love you.”

You watched Jason make no acknowledgement he could hear you, watched him breathe once more. His chest rose and never fell.

You screamed and buried your head in his costume, not caring about getting blood on your face. Dick pulled you away wordlessly, out of the warehouse. You barely registered that the warehouse exploded behind you a few seconds later.

Dick let you sob into his shoulder for what seemed like hours. Him and Bruce exchanged a short conversation, both riddled with grief.

Six times you and Jason had met, and that was the last.

[lindacreations]

Ghost!Mirabel - I wanted to write a small thing to go with this picture, so here ya go :)

---

Mirabel was cold. 

Ever since she could remember waking up in Castia, she was cold. Her arms would shake and her teeth would clatter as she tried to curl in on herself. When she tried to move it was like being stuck in a solid ice block, her legs did not cooperate with her, she couldn't even open her eyes properly. She hated it. It was like being in the middle of a blizzard, with no other protection than the clothes on her back. 

 It had been horrible, those first few months of being a ghost. It was like only a little of her consciousness was there, drifting, and anytime she had enough strength to pull herself out of the dark void that suffocated her, it would always pull back. It was a constant push and pull, a constant battle of trying to stay conscious. It was colder than anything she could have imagined when she was alive, and it would constantly eat at the tips of her fingers. 

When she had finally gained back the consciousness that she fought so hard for, it was like being dumped out of a tub of icy cold water. She could still feel the cold biting at her, but suddenly it wasn't so unbearable. It still made walking hard, but she could manage. Her blizzard had finally turned into a light snowy drizzle. 

And the candle, it was warm.

She had first discovered this when she was walking around Casita. Mirabel had watched over Antonio the whole day, calming him down when he started to cry, making him laugh when he was bored. She had helped patch up the stuffed Jaguar she had given him before she had left. He was so upset when he accidentally ripped its leg off, but the fix had put back on the bright smile he always had. She was exhausted, or as exhausted as a ghost could get. 

Mirabel was just walking when the little light had caught her eye. When she was alive, looking at it had always made a pit of despair grow inside her stomach, squeezing her insides. But now it called her. Ever since she died, it was like a force was trying to pull her towards it. She always ignored it, though, taking to just stare at it. She wouldn’t usually ever go near it, because the pit in her stomach would become unbearable, and the tears that sprang to her eyes hurt. But tonight, she was so tired, and she could barely control the feet under her which seemed to move of their own accord. 

The moment her hands went above flame, it was like someone had lit a fire inside of her. The chattering of her teeth had stopped and Mirabel was finally able to unravel herself from the hunched position she found herself in so often. It was such a small flicker of warmth, but to someone as cold as her it might as well have been a bonfire. 

Soon she would find herself sitting by the candle every time the sun set and Antonio had gone to bed. She would sit for hours, just basking in the little bit of warmth the candle provided. She never understood how or why it worked when nothing else could warm her. She remembered everything else she had tried. The sun's rays of light, didn’t work. Hiding underneath layers of blankets, nothing. Even standing in a pit of fire didn't help. 

But the candle did. 

So she would stay by it, if only for the nights. And when the sun rose back into the sky, she would reluctantly leave the flame, cold seeping back into her lungs. She would make the long walk back to the nursery, and silently wait for Antonio to wake up to play whatever games he had planned for the day. 

---

Right now I’m writing some story's for this au, and the idea of the candle being the only thing to warm her just sounds like a fun idea. 

[elvish-sky]

The Grumpiness of Uncles Does Not Outweigh the Drunkenness of Nephews {Fíli x Tullaina}

A.N: Ok, so first of all I’m 15 (almost 16 though!) and I have no clue how alcohol or being drunk works. I also don’t know if cold water sobers you up but I decided for the purposes of this fic it didn’t! Also- I had a total blast writing this. Fili and Tullaina are one of my favorite couples, and I loved these prompts because I just got to have so much fun with them! I hope I wrote Tullaina okay, and I really hope you like this!

Requested by @guardianofrivendell for my 1K celebration: 💜 - 1 and 11 from the general prompt list with Fíli (can be x reader or an AU with Tullaina, whatever you prefer!) 1. "I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.” 11. "Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

Summary: Fili gets rather drunk the night the elven delegation arrives. Shenanigans ensue.

Pairing: Fili x Tullaina, mentioned Thorin x Bilbo

Word Count: 1,318, because @guardianofrivendell picks the best prompts so I can’t resist writing longer stuff!

Warnings: Alcohol, Drunken Behavior

*****

The Grumpiness of Uncles Does Not Outweigh the Drunkenness of Nephews {Fíli x Tullaina}

“Fíli! What in Mahal’s name are you doing?”

Tullaina stood in the doorway of the best pub in Erebor, watching her fiancé- the prince of Erebor and heir to the throne- dance along the tabletops.

The issue wasn’t that he was a bad dancer. It wasn’t even the embarrassment this would cause him in the morning (he knew what would happen when he got drunk! It happened every single time). The issue was that, firstly, Fíli had a big meeting in the morning and would not do well hungover, and secondly, the elves were going to be arriving for said meeting any minute (Thorin had grumbled for hours about how Thranduil had “No respect for sleep,” and that “Some of us can’t stay up all night and then look fresh as daisies in the morning.”)

After the fiasco that had happened the last time the elves visited, which had involved Fíli, Kíli, several jugs of ale, and a game of catch, Thorin was determined to keep everything under control for this visit.

“TULLAINA!” Fíli exclaimed, jumping down from the table and drunkenly making his way over to her.

“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Tullaina giggled for a moment, then shook her head and pushed him away. “Tell me that when you’re sober. Now c’mon. The elves should be here any moment.”

“ELVES! Where?” He crouched into a battle-stance and looked around warily.

Tullaina laughed, grabbing his arm and dragging him out the door. She rounded the corner of the pub, entering the alleyway behind it.

“Did you get it?”

“Yes,” said a figure, stepping forward out of the darkness.

“Kíli!!” Fíli greeted his brother with a wave. “Did you know I Love Tulls? I. Love. Tullaina.”

“Oh, wow. He really is drunk,” Kíli said.

Tullaina nodded. “Yup. Now let’s do this so that we can get to the gates and not have Thorin scold us.”

Kíli nodded, reaching down and grabbing a large bucket. Tullaina knew what was in it- ice cold water.

“Ready?”

Tullaina let go of Fíli and backed up. “Ready.”

Kíli hefted the bucket over his head, dumping all the cold water over his brother. Fíli starting shrieking as the cold water rained down over him, jumping and squirming and generally just not looking very pleased as his brother and fiancé both cackled while watching him.

Tullaina waited until Fíli had shaken most of the water off, then approached him. “You at least slightly clear-headed now?”

“Huh? Oh, Tullaina! Kíli, did you know I love Tulls?”

Kíli sighed. “Ok. That didn’t work at all.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” said Tullaina. “We need to figure this out.”

Kíli walked up to his brother, placing a hand on each of Fíli’s shoulders and looking him directly in the eyes.

“Fíli,” he began.

“Yes?”

“Yes, hi. It’s me. We’re about to go see Uncle Thorin and Uncle Bilbo, and we’re going to be greeting the elves. You need to act completely normal. Got it?”

Fíli nodded, suddenly looking very serious. “I’ve got it.”

Tullaina and Kíli let out simultaneous sighs of relief, each grabbing one of Fíli’s arms to frog-march him to the front gates.

As they walked, Fíli asked, “Do you think Thranduil will let me touch his ears?”

“No,” Kíli told him.

“Awwwww,” Fíli pouted. “But they’re so pointy. I want to touch them!!!!!”

The next morning, Tullaina sat on the window seat in her bedroom, watching F​​íli blink his eyes open in the spot he’d collapsed last night- spread eagle on her bed.

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” She asked.

“Tulls?” Fíli shot up to a sitting position, blinking his eyes in confusion.

“You collapsed in here last night because you were very drunk,” she told him. “Anyways, did you know talk in your sleep?”

Fíli looked wary. “I did not know that. May I ask what I said?”

Tullaina giggled. “Let’s see, there may have been a fully formed dream-plan to prank Thranduil’s son for revenge-”

“Did you write it down?”

“I- what?” Tullaina was confused by the sudden interruption.

“Tullaina. Focus. Did you write it down?”

She shook her head, and Fíli’s head sank back in disappointment.

“I remember it, though!”

Fíli’s head shot back up. “Great! We’ll discuss it later. What else did I say?”

“There was also a whole lot of grumbling about ‘the grumpiness of uncles,’ and how ‘ever since Uncle Thorin had married Bilbo he’d gotten supremely worse about manners.’”

Fíli groaned. “I hope I didn’t say anything like that in front of my Uncles!”

Tullaina smirked. “Well, you actually did a whole lot worse.”

Fíli shot out of bed. “What?! What did I do?!”

Tullaina sat back against her pillows with the air of someone who was taking entirely too much delight in telling someone else something.

“Well,” she began. “You started off an abysmal night by commenting on the pointiness of the Elven-Kings ears. In front of the whole elven delegation- and like ninety percent of Erebor.”

Fíli flopped back onto the bed in despair. “I really hate to ask, but… did I touch them?”

“Welllllllll, no.”

He sighed in relief.

“However, you did somehow manage to touch Legolas’s ears. And then Legolas caught a whiff of your breath and commented on how drunk you must have been. And then Thorin… well, let’s just say Thorin was not pleased. Especially not when you started yelling at Legolas.”

“What did I yell at Legolas about?” Fíli looked like he wanted to shrivel up and never be seen again.

The smirk on Tullaina’s face was growing. “You said, and I quote, “C’mon, Leggy!! Bros don’t rat out other bros for being drunk at a diplomatic thingy! And you! I thought you were a bro! How could you?”

“So that’s why I wanted revenge in my dream?” Fíli asked.

Tullaina nodded.

“It’s official,” Fíli declared. “I will never leave this room again.”

“I would say that was a good idea,” Tullaina said. “Except for the fact that as of right now, you are officially late to the ‘crisis management (the crisis being your behavior last night) meeting that Thorin scheduled for this morning. The one that all the elves will be attending.”

Fíli shot into the room where Thorin usually held all important meetings, skidding to a halt in shock as he saw the faces of the people inside.

It was everyone. All the elves, Thorin, Bilbo, even little Frodo! And- was that-

“Tullaina?”

Everyone in the room started laughing.

Fíli stood there in complete bewilderment. “What- what is happening?”

Thorin approached him. “Last night, when you were behaving so ridiculously, we figured out that if dwarven-elven relations could withstand that kind of diplomatic fiasco, we could withstand anything.”

Thranduil stepped forward. “Exactly. However, your Uncle still felt you deserved some punishment for last night. So, your all-too-willing fiancée stepped in.”

Tullaina gave Fíli a little wave.

“So- so I’m not in trouble?”

Thorin laughed. “No. We thought that the fact that everyone, until the end of time, will remember you asking to touch an elf’s ears was enough.”

Fíli was blushing like crazy.

“Fine,” he said. “But my retribution for this will be legendary! They shall mark this day as the day when Fíli, Prince of Erebor, came up with his greatest prank ever!” He spread his arms wide to punctuate the declaration.

And then promptly stopped, holding out his hand. “Now, c’mon, Tulls. I’m hungry. Let’s go to the kitchens.”

As the two left the room, Fíli turned around just long enough to yell one more thing.

“There will still be repercussions for this, never fear! There shall be RE-PER-CUSSIONS!”

The large double doors to the conference room slammed shut in their wake, and everyone in the room could hear them walking down the hallway on the other side, Tullaina giggling as she teased Fíli and him good-naturedly replying.

Everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

Fíli tag: @laurfilijames @claraofthepen

[mosshead-lover]

Fights lead to Confessions as Hate leads to Love.

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Summary: You go over to your Captain’s to submit the work late at night. Only to get caught in the most unexpected turn of events.

Warnings : NSFW, maybe lil wild?

When you woke up from your what was supposed to be a tiny nap, It was already 10:30 PM. You curse yourself for dozing off. Luckily you were almost done with the work. Even so, you knew you had to face the captain's wrath. Lately, he had been dumping an unbelievable amount of paperwork on you. That too, after a whole day of training. Today's combat training was extra hard for you as he made you combat him till your limbs fell apart and this was after a dozen of laps that ware meant as a punishment for being slow during the warm-ups. But then, how could you keep up with the squad? You stayed up late to finish the paperwork that was due the next morning. He had strictly asked you to finish today's work by dinner. Your stomach grumbled. You wish you woke up at least in time for dinner. You bundled the papers and set off to submit them to him.

"Captain Levi"

You call out for him before knocking.

There was no reply. You call out again. Still, there was none.

A ruffle of chill wind moved the door slightly, making you realise that it wasn't locked. You decided to let yourself in, for, you had forgotten to wear your coat and, the slim uniform shirt did no good. Moreover, you couldn't afford to get the bashing in front of everyone in the morning. Better face the consequences in private.

"Um. What are you doing here?"

It was him. He had just gotten out of the shower and wore nothing but a towel around his waist. The reminiscent water droplets on his torso only added to the sexiness of his abs. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. While you were at it, Levi's ice-cold eyes were set on your erect nipples which were the result of the weather(or not).

"Tch."

He let out an annoyed sigh. Immediately aware of what he was implying, you tried to cover your nipples with the suspenders. You were embarrassed. Though, ironically, he was the half-naked one. You quickly set down the file on the desk nearby and saluted.

"The work is done, sir."

"Good, Thought you were dead."

(What an ass!)

"I apologise for being late."

"Whatever. Kitchen duty every night for three weeks."

(Again!?)

You saluted and left. It took you everything you had to not smack him. After Levi shut the door behind you, You leaned back on his door and began thinking how exhausted you have been all these days. Physically and mentally. You didn't understand why he was so hostile towards you when, ever since you joined the cadet corps, all you ever tried to do was gain his appreciation. Heck, in fact, You joined the corps for him. Where did the captain that you had admired as a citizen within the walls go? Amidst all the chaos that went on in your head, You hated yourself for not being able to shake off the image of just-out-of-shower Levi.

Levi must have realised that you were still there. He opens the door without a warning and, you fall back into his arms. You quickly get up and stand straight.

"Were you fantasising having a piece of this, cadet?" He pointed at himself.

You were extremely embarrassed at his remark and couldn't take his shenanigans anymore.

"To me, it looks like the other way around, captain."

You smirked. You had had enough of him and, you spoke before thinking. Although, you immediately regretted it. Levi twisted your hand around and rammed you against the door, with your head sideways and left cheek pressing against the door. He positioned himself closer to your right ear.

"We are talking back now, aren't we?" He growled.

The words that escaped his mouth had nearly no impact on you compared to his breath against your skin.

"Should I punish you the old school way?"

A hint of naughty acquired his voice.

"Is that all you can do? So much for being The Levi Fucking Ackerman."

You kept your composure and pretended unintimidated when your inners went wild thinking of things that might happen.

"What did you just say to me?" He questioned in disbelief and utter shock.

"I SAID, LEVI FU..."

*Slam!* He slapped your buttocks hard.

"Come on, say it!"

He challenged you.

"FU..."

*Slaps you again*

You start taking deep breaths to calm your nerves down. And then your body reacts the way it shouldn't when he squeezes the part that was still hot from the slaps before. A jolt of pleasure passes through your body and, you let out a feeble moan in reflex.

Sufficed with his so called punishment,He lets your hand go and moves away.

"Leave."

He says in an indifferent tone. Although, the bump under his clean white towel was screaming something else. He immediately turns the other side and waits for you to obey him. But you weren't done.

You walk over to him furiously, grip his shoulder and forcefully turn him to face you. You push him against the table and position your dominant hand upon his groin as if to say, ’Move, and I will crush your jewels.'

Deep down, you knew Levi could easily turn the tables down without a scratch on his body. To your surprise, he gave in, resting his arms on the table and waiting for you to speak.

"Oh, Don't you dare imply this is one-sided."

You were perspiring from all the adrenaline rush and caught some breaths before continuing.

"Don't you think I know how you look at my back as I carry out the kitchen duty that you assign? Or when I bend over to clean the dust underneath the table, as you order me to?"

You were a tad satisfied as you began confronting your captain. Looked like he didn't want to take it anymore. He moved away from you in one swift move and used his leg to pull yours forward, making you lose balance and fall on the ground. He pinned you down and wasn't all that neutral anymore.

"It's a shame you think what I have for you is only physical. "

Before you could think, he tore your blouse with his strong arms, exposing more of your chest.

"Let me be what you think I am."

He affirms and holds you by the neck so you can't look away. He then bent down to devour you, as his other hand made its way down to your privates.

Your mind screamed ''It's wrong! Stop him" But, your body had already given in, swaying to the rhythm that his hand created down there. But, before he gained any more control over you, you had to say something. You push him away with all your might and sit up.

"It was you who portrayed my feelings as lust!" You almost scream in a teary voice. You take one deep breath and speak in a calmer tone.

"So, should I be what you see me as? "

You counter him and push him down as you throw his towel away. Levi lay bare naked. You sit on top and undo your remaining clothes, never once looking away. His eyes were locked to yours. You bend down, he meets you halfway and you both share one long kiss followed by several short ones. What started off slow gets hotter and furious with every second that pass. He runs his fingers down your torso as he sucks on your neck. You pull his head closer to your breasts as he began sucking and squeezing them. You lie back, throwing your arms on the ground as Levi pushes your legs apart. He seems proud at the sight of the flood that he solely caused. He resumes his work and goes down on you. This time you are not holding it back. You weren't fighting him anymore nor was he. You let out the most pleasant moans every time he hit the spots. His fingers and tongue worked magic on you. As he leads you to the peak, your legs are throbbing and urge to close down but he holds them away effortlessly. Finally, you release it and are in ecstasy, He trusts his hard rock sex into yours without giving you time to catch up. You didn't expect anything less.

"Oh! captain." You call him out on his move, followed by the sounds that could only be reactions to his thumping.

"Sssh, cadet y/n."

He bends down and kisses to shut you up while his other hand grabs your breasts. As the thumping picked up the phase, Levi groaned at every jerk against your tight walls. The wild noises that he let out only added to your pleasure. It was proof that he too had given in completely. He didn't worry about the thin walls of the camp anymore. You both take it to his bed and reach another climax, and three more before your mortal bundle of fleshes gave up. You stared at the ceiling wondering how tonight turned out. ’Tomorrow is uncertain’ You thought. Things could change or go back to normal. Either way, you will go back to being a superior and underling. This night could never happen again. You drifted to sleep with no expectations. Levi moved a strand of hair away from your face and looked at your peaceful resting face in admiration. He wondered why he was trying to push you away at all. He smiled at the thought of how this night could be the beginning of something new.

[enamoured-x]

My Angel

This story is based on a request from @briannab1234​ , thanks for letting me take your request into a different direction! I hope you enjoy it! (gifs not mine)

Excerpt: “You felt nothing hearing those words. Absolutely nothing. But you felt everything when Angel said them, when he whispered them to you at one in the morning after making love to you all night; when he’d yell them at you from across the junkyard on your way out; when he’d mumble them against your lips when he couldn’t draw his mouth away from yours but he needed to get them out.”

Warnings: Cheating, angst, mentions of violence

It was a regular Tuesday evening for you, you were currently grocery shopping for dinner tonight. You tried your hand at cooking different meals every other day and you knew Rio was loving being your guinea pig. You also kind of liked the domesticity of it all, him coming home to your shared apartment to you cooking dinner. It was nice and it made you think about the future when you’d possibly have a family with him. You loved Marcus like your own but you couldn’t wait to add to the family. You loved Rio and the two years you had been together were the best years of your life. You knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him and you couldn’t wait. You both had talked about marriage, about kids, and you two were on the same page. Only making it that much more exciting. 

You smiled to yourself as you gathered the vegetables you needed. Rio had that effect on you. You pushed your cart as you looked at the produce and suddenly you were crashing into another cart. You pulled back right away. Later on you’d realize that the crash would stand as a sort of symbol, how your world came crashing down. 

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You apologized as you looked at the red headed woman in front of you. She smiled. 

“My fault.” She said. Beth felt slightly bad for what she was about to do but her jealousy got the best of her. What did you have that she didn’t? She was giving Rio everything yet he still went home to you. Still wanted you. 

“You’re dating Rio, right?” You were confused at her words. You had never seen this woman in your life, how did she know about Rio? Who was she? You prayed that she wasn’t with the feds. 

“Excuse me?” You asked.

“I mean, aren’t you? I’m just asking because I thought he dumped you.” Anger stirred within you. Who the hell did she think she was?

“No, me and Rio are still together. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you try to maneuver around her cart but she shoved her cart into yours again. Your mouth dropped open. Before you could say anything she started talking. 

“Really? Honey, he’s been keeping my bed warm for a while now. Kinda thought he’d break it to you.” You scoffed. Why would Rio ever touch her? Sure she had big boobs but she looked almost ten years older than him and judging by the food in her cart, she was most definitely a mom. 

“I think you have me confused.” She definitely had the wrong Rio, you felt bad for the poor girl who was her actual target. Cheating was disgusting. 

“No, I don’t. You know, Rio with the eagle tattoo on his neck? Rio with a son named Marcus?” She was taunting you. It was your Rio. Well she was describing him. She couldn’t be serious about Rio actually sleeping with her. There was no way. But then why did your gut sink just a little bit?

“You’re lying.” You hated that you sounded skeptical. Rio would never cheat on you. 

“I wish I was. Well, actually I don’t. No one’s ever taken me the way he does.” She bit her lip as she looked deep in thought. You grounded your teeth together. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what game you’re playing at but I want no part in it.” You moved around her but she didn’t stop you this time. 

“It’s no game. Ask him where he was two nights ago. Probably made some excuse about taking care of business when he got home late. He was actually taking care of me.” Your heart rate spiked when you thought back to two days ago on Sunday when he came home late. You didn’t think anything of it though, he was always coming and going all kinds of hours because of business. 

“If you still don’t believe me, then how do I know about the scar on his right thigh? Or the tattoo on his stomach?” Your breath hitched at that. There was no way she could know about those unless he was naked in front of her. It was dead of winter, it’s not like Rio was at the damn swimming pool, showing off everything. 

“Ask him. Ask him about Beth, and then send him my way for more fun.” Is all she said before she took off. You stood there frozen, not wanting to believe what you just heard. She had to be messing with you, right? There had to be another way that she knew those things. You took your hands off the cart as you realized they were shaking. You squeezed them into fists and then walked away and out of the store, leaving your cart behind. 

The whole drive home your brain was running through every detail of what she said and every conversation you’ve had with Rio recently. You didn’t know what to even look for. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. But she seemed so smug, so confident. Why else would she demand you ask him so many times if he really wasn’t seeing her? You felt your heart crack at the thought, at the possibility that maybe she wasn’t lying. And you had to know now. 

You pulled into your apartment complex and walked into the building and straight to your door. Your heart was pounding. It can’t be true. There was no way. You and Rio were good, you and Rio were in love. You took a deep breath before entering. He was sitting down on the couch, phone in his hand. He looked up when you walked in and smiled at you. And then he stood up, confusion taking over his features as he walked over to you. 

“Mama? I thought you went to get groceries? What’s wrong?” You knew he could see right through you. He knew something was wrong because he knew you so well. 

“I…” You didn’t even know what to say. He waited for you to speak though. 

You swallowed hard, “who’s Beth?” Coming right out with it. You felt your resolve breaking piece by piece as worry took over his expression briefly before he furrowed his brows. 

“Who?” You could tell he was lying. Oh, god. Oh, god, she wasn’t lying. 

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Rio. Who the hell is Beth?” You crossed your arms. You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from crying. 

He sighed, “she’s just some woman I’ve been doing business with.” 

“Then why deny knowing her.” You were going to see him play this one out. 

“I don’t know.” The fact that he couldn’t even come up with an excuse hit you in your gut. 

“No, you denied it because you’ve been screwing her.” Venom laced in your voice. He shook his head, mouth gaping. 

“What? No, that’s… I…” Tears sprung to your eyes. You were sure they were going to fall any minute. 

“Speak up. Be a fucking man and own up to it.” Your bottom lip shook as you waited. You needed to hear it. You needed to hear it because as much as this conversation was a dead giveaway, you still held on to an inkling of hope. 

“Mama, please…” A tear escaped and he cursed. He tried to pull you into him but you shoved him away. His eyes widened.

“Do not fucking touch me. Did you fucking sleep with her? Yes or no?” 

“...yes, but it didn’t mean anything. She means nothing to me. I love you.” It felt like he had been holding your heart in his hand this whole time, and hearing him say those words, it felt like he was squeezing your heart between his fingers, squeezing so tight you were sure it was going to give out. You covered your mouth as you tried to control your breathing. Everything felt like it was falling apart. That future you so desperately wanted with Rio? You couldn’t see it anymore, couldn’t see past this. 

“How long?”

“Mama, don’t–”

“How fucking long, Rio?” The way he looked at you, told you enough but he looked down at the ground. 

“Two months.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks, you swiped at them but they still kept coming. The anger that rolled through you, the embarrassment, the deep deep grief, it was all just one big tidal wave, catching you in its current, dragging you under. You couldn't breathe. 

“Where?” His eyes were now sparkling with tears. Fuck him. He did this, he didn’t get to be upset. 

“At her house, at–” 

“Here?” If he brought her into your home… If he brought her into your bed… 

“No, fuck no. Of course not.” You scoffed. He has no problem fucking other women but bringing them to your apartment is where he drew the line. You felt sick.

“How many times?” You were only hurting yourself. But you needed to know. 

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry–”

“How many fucking times, Rio?” Two months, how many times out of those two months was he fucking her? How many times did he fuck her while he also came home and fucked you? Yeah, you were going to be sick. 

“I don’t know, a few times a week.” For two fucking months. These past two months when you were still on cloud nine with him. When you were still fucking almost everyday because you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. When you told him you loved him numerous times a day. When you gave him all of you. He was fucking another woman. 

“You’re a piece of shit. God, you’re the fucking worst. How could you? Did I not love you? Did I not fuck you enough? Did I not make you happy?” Tears were sliding down his face now. He shook his head and tried to step closer to you but you stepped back. 

“No, no! You do! God, baby, you do. I love you so fucking much it hurts sometimes and–”

“Don’t you dare say you love me.” Your tone was ice cold and Rio looked like he had been struck. 

“I do! I swear to God I do. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t, mamas. I regret it. I shouldn’t have done it. I love you! Please, you have to know that. It was a mistake.”

“A mistake is when you do something wrong once and then correct it the next time. You’ve been fucking her for two months, Rio.” He shook his head, running his hand down his face. 

“Did you use protection?” You asked as soon as the thought hit you. Not only was he breaking your heart but he was putting you at risk. 

“Yes! I mean there was one time we didn’t but after that…” You were done. His words solidified everything. The fact that they didn’t use protection one time and then made a plan to use it the next time. Like they liked it so much but wanted to make sure they were being safe about it. It showed you that he wanted to do it, there was no regret or mistake about it. You cursed yourself for imagining him coming inside her and then agreeing to use protection next time. It was all planned, he knew what he was doing and he didn’t care. 

“I hope you rot in hell.” Is all you said before turning on your heel and walking toward your bedroom. You felt him hot on your tail.

“Please! I swear it didn’t mean anything!” You weren’t listening to him anymore. It was the same shit he had been saying already and it didn’t mean anything to you. You grabbed your gym bag and started stuffing what you could fit into it. This was the worst part, the fact that you were living with him. You had nowhere else to go besides friends.

“Wait. No, no, no. Please stop. Don’t do this.” He shook his head as he watched you. You still ignored him. You tried to think of who you were going to stay with. You grabbed stuff you’d need from the bathroom cabinet and grabbed all your electronics and chargers. You’d come back for the rest later, you just needed to leave now. He kept rambling on and on but you tuned it out. Then he took your arm in his hand and you turned back. You ripped it out of his grasp. 

“I told you not to fucking touch me! Get the fuck away from me, Rio, or I swear to god…” You shook your head. Tears were still silently falling down your cheeks but Rio was almost full on sobbing. 

“You do not get to fucking cry. You made your bed, now fucking lay in it.” You said as you finally zipped up your bag and carried it out the room. He followed you again. 

“Don’t do this, mama. I can fix this. Please! I swear it won’t happen again.” He begged. 

“Goodbye, Rio. I’ll be over to get the rest of my stuff this week.” Your voice soft, defeated. He kept pleading with you as you walked out the door, but you never turned back.

Four months later

Rio was a wreck. Every damn day dragged on and he didn’t even know what day it was anymore. Four fucking months since you left him and he was still in a rut. He handled his business but everyone could tell he was off. He was even more snappy and a lot tougher on people than he used to be. Everyday it was different, he’d be so damn heart broken and other days he’d see red with all his anger. Angry at himself for what he did to you, even angry at you for not giving him another chance. But he knew he deserved it. He deserved all this pity and self loathing. He broke your heart, the person he loved most in the world. He just wanted you back. You blocked him from everything and even changed your number. But he still saw you around sometimes. You looked better. 

The first month after you left, he had caught a glimpse of you at a coffee shop and you looked terrible. It looked like you hadn’t eaten, your face sunken in and void of any glow. You looked tired, and just...broken. He went home and cried that day because he did that, he made you that way. After two months, he saw you again walking downtown, you looked much better but you still had that hard exterior around you. Three months, and you were laughing with some friends at a bar. And then today, he saw you smiling. But you were with some man. Rio was downtown when he spotted you having lunch outside a restaurant. The man you were sitting across said something to have you letting out a deep laugh. Rio felt his heart twist. He hadn't heard that laugh in so long and then to see it was because of some other man? He felt his heart crack open. And then he wanted to scream and cry again because if this is how he felt by just watching you have a conversation with another man? Then he couldn’t imagine how you felt when you found out he was cheating on you. 

He took in the man that you were so obviously enjoying time with. He was a biker, his vest told him that much, and he had ink all over his skin. He was smiling at you and Rio knew that smile well, he looked at you like that. Like you were the most beautiful thing on the fucking planet. He couldn’t do it, he walked away and went home. You were moving on and it destroyed him inside. 

Four months later (Eight months since the breakup)

“Angel! Put me down!” You laughed as he hoisted you over his shoulder and spun you around. Even placing a sharp slap to your ass that had you laughing through your pleads. 

“PDA much?” Ez groaned from where he was standing. Angel put you down and you made a show of bringing him in for a kiss, your tongue meeting his right away. 

“For fucks sake!” Coco yelled. You laughed into the kiss and pulled away. 

“Let us be, fuckers. Y'all are just jealous.” Angel told them, pulling you into his side and placing a kiss to the side of your head. 

You had met Angel two months after breaking up with Rio. One of your friends was dating Coco at the time and had invited you to the clubhouse for a party. You were hesitant at first. You didn’t know these guys and at first glance, they seemed terrifying. But when you arrived, Coco was a great host and introduced you to everyone. A month later you’d find out that he was definitely trying to hook you up with Angel. But that night you met Angel and you hit it off immediately. You were skeptical at first, about starting a relationship again. Rio fucked you up so bad and although you were now over him, your insecurities and trust issues were still so fragile from when he threw them to the ground and stomped on them. But Angel was so damn sweet and so attentive. He was genuine and he really cared for you, it was hard not to fall back into that kind of love. And so you did. Six months with him and you were in love again. Maybe some would think it was too soon to be in love but you were a goner. And it scared you. And when it scared you, he didn’t accuse you of not trusting him or didn’t remind you that he wasn’t Rio. No, he’d just hold you and would tell you how much he loved you and how he would never do anything to hurt you. How you always put him first when no one else did and he would never let that go. And it worked, and you felt whole again. 

“You staying the night tonight? I was thinking of making dinner?” You ask the man who came into your life at just the right time. He tucked you into his side, your head leaning against his chest.

“Yeah, but how about I make you dinner?” You pulled away, incredulously. 

“I love you, but you’re a shit cook.” 

“Maybe I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” You bit your lip, sliding your hand down his arm. 

“Yeah? Can’t wait to see what you got.” It was hard not to flirt with Angel every chance you got. One look from him and you’d do anything he said. You knew not only was it the attraction but it was the safety you felt when you were with him. You always knew you were in good hands so you’d gladly be at his mercy any day. 

“Oh, mami, there’s still a whole lot of Angel you haven’t seen yet.” He took your ass in his hands and brought you in for a kiss. You sighed into it, losing yourself in all that was Angel. His name was definitely fitting, he was your angel, sent at the perfect time to not just heal your broken heart but mold it into something better, something reserved just for him. 

You didn’t really register what was going on. You were thrown off but you were surprised to know you didn’t feel that sadness again. That deep ache of despair that would creep in every time you thought about him. But you weren’t thinking about him. No, you were staring right at him. Yet you felt indifferent. Actually, no. You felt anger take form, bubbling just under the surface of your skin. You didn’t miss him, or want to cry from seeing him again. No, you didn’t think about all the good times you had with him. You thought about what he did to you. How he so readily threw away everything you had both built together. There wasn’t love there anymore, just despair and anger but those were quickly fading too. 

You were downtown, grabbing a cup of coffee before you were on your way to the bookstore a few blocks down. It was a nice Sunday afternoon and you figured you’d spend it with a good book. Angel was busy with club business today and you were off. It was such a nice damn day. Until you heard your name being called before you could enter the bookstore. You knew that voice, you hadn’t heard it in months. You turned around slowly, knowing you were going to find Rio there. He looked slightly better. You had seen him once or twice within the last couple months and his current state seemed a little better than those times you had seen him. 

“Rio.” Your way of greeting him. Why was he trying to talk to you now? You hadn’t talked since the day you went back to collect your stuff. Why now?

“You, uh, you look good.” He nodded his head, looking you up and down. You shifted on your feet. 

“Thanks.” What more could you say? You had said everything to him that night, you had moved on now. 

“Um, can we maybe go somewhere and talk?” 

“No.” You couldn’t believe he even suggested it. There was nothing to talk about, absolutely nothing. 

“Please, mama, I–”

“Do not call me that. I don’t want to talk, Rio. I’ve moved on and I suggest you do the same.” You turned away and walked into the bookstore. You wished the short interaction didn’t bother you as much as it did. You were angry that he would try to talk to you after all this time, and for what? He had to have known you were with someone else now, if the town didn’t talk well then his lackeys certainly did. You were happy now, happier. You didn’t need him coming back into your life and taking that from you again. But he just couldn’t help himself when he tried to do just that a week later. 

You laughed at Coco and Gilly shoving each other as you walked down the hall. Both boys trailing behind you, Angel, and Ez. 

“You two are children.” You shook your head and placed the key in the lock at your door. 

Before Angel could add his own remark you were talking.

“Don’t even say anything. You and Ez are just as bad.” Both the Reyes men rolled their eyes, but you knew they knew it was true. 

You laughed at them and then walked into your apartment, flipping on the switch. Your heart dropped as you saw the figure standing in your living room, you let out a gasp. Before you knew what was happening, all four Mayans had their guns drawn. Pointing straight at Rio.

He didn’t dare touch his gun, too late to draw it now.

“Who the fuck are you?” Angel was seething. There was a man inside your apartment, waiting for you. He thanked God that you invited the boys over for dinner tonight.

“Rio, what the fuck are you doing here?” You were just as angry as Angel probably was. When Angel heard the name, he was raging beyond belief now. The same Rio who broke your heart was waiting for you, somehow able to enter your home. 

“I came to see you. Didn’t know you’d have company.” He said, eyeing all the men in vests and guns out. 

“How the fuck did you get in? You can’t just break into my home, Rio. What the hell is wrong with you?” The guns barely jarred you. You were around them all the time with Rio so when you met Angel and found out some aspects of what the club did, you didn’t even blink an eye. 

Ez, Coco, and Gilly watched the interaction unfold. They knew who Rio was, they knew he was the asshole who cheated on you. They were just as pissed off as Angel was to see him. They cared for you deeply so quickly and you felt the same for them. They felt the strong need to protect you at all costs, you were Angel’s girl now and anyone who messed with you messed with them. Angel knew this, and he knew how it sounded a lot like old lady status. But that question was for another time. Another time where he wasn’t currently pointing his gun at Rio’s head, wishing he could pull the trigger. 

“I just wanted to talk, please.”

“You have a lot of fucking balls for a man who has four fucking guns on him.” Angel quipped. You were only slightly concerned for Rio’s safety. Yeah, he tore open your heart but he didn’t deserve to die. 

Rio ignored him and turned back to look at you. Angel wasn’t having it and stepped in front of you, pushing you behind him. 

“Nah, don’t even fucking look at her. I’m talking to you.” Angel wasn’t messing around and you felt a sense of security knowing he’d protect you to whatever end even though you knew Rio wouldn’t hurt you. 

“You need to leave.” Ez spoke up. Rio laughed, shaking his head. 

“This is who you hang around now, mama? I thought you were better than that. Better than this trash.” You knew Angel was boiling over with rage but you tugged on his vest and then stepped in front of him. 

“You will not, not talk about them like that. This is my family, you need to fucking leave, Rio.” You were red hot and ready to set everything on fire. Rio didn’t get to disrespect them, he didn’t just get to walk in here and talk shit about them. These guys were your family, your heart. They didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that.

“Can you just let me–” Rio tried but Angel spoke up again.

“She told you to leave, so leave.” 

Rio was about to stupidly open his mouth again so you stepped in. 

“You cheated on me, Rio. I will never forgive that, ever. So there’s nothing you can say or do that will change my mind about it or about you. I’ve moved on. I’m happy now, why do you insist on taking that away again?” Angel refrained from telling you that Rio wasn’t going to take away anything from you ever again, he wouldn’t let him. 

“I still love you, that ain’t gonna change.” You felt nothing hearing those words. Absolutely nothing. But you felt everything when Angel said them, when he whispered them to you at one in the morning after making love to you all night; when he’d yell them at you from across the junkyard on your way out; when he’d mumble them against your lips when he couldn’t draw his mouth away from yours but he needed to get them out. Angel’s love meant something. Rio’s never did. 

“I don’t love you, Rio. That’s never gonna change either. Leave my home and leave me alone. I won’t tell you again and if you try some shit like this again I swear I’ll call the cops on you.” Angel didn’t bother mentioning that if Rio pulled this shit again, he’d put a bullet in his brain. 

“I’ll always be waiting.” Rio said as he started to walk towards the door. 

“And I will never come.” Is all you said before Coco slammed the door shut when he walked out. You took a deep breath. They tucked their guns back into their jeans. 

“You okay, mi dulce?” Angel asked, cupping your cheeks in his hands. You nodded and leaned into his touch.

“Yeah. I can’t believe he broke in.”

“It won’t happen again.” Angel didn’t need to say anything further, you knew he wouldn’t let it.

“Yeah, he tries to come around again and we’ll take care of him.” Gilly said, you huffed out a laugh.

“If he comes around again, I’ll do it myself.” Rio was out of your life. You wanted nothing to do with him. And if he tried to show his face after disrespecting these men, then you’d do something about it. Your fierce loyalty to the Mayans happened so quick, one second you were dating Angel and the next you had a whole other family that you cared for and who cared for you. 

“I love you.” Angel said to you. The boys took it as their cue to go into the kitchen, giving you and Angel space. 

“I love you, Angel. My angel.” You clasped your hands on the back of his neck and his hands slid down to your waist. 

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” He promised, sealing it with a kiss. 

Angel was your hope. Your hope after a dark period, that people could be good. People could be honest and loving. He was what you needed at exactly the time you needed him, and he had told you that you were that for him as well. You were exactly what the other needed. Two bruised hearts healing just to beat in tandem with the other. 

[burnedbyshoto]

love is in the air | bakugou k.

— Different worlds, different stories, different beginnings. It didn’t matter what universe you were in because there was one consistency in these worlds: you and Bakugou were always in love. Was it just a coincidence that love is in the air whenever the two of you were involved? No, it was destiny. —

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: cursing (all), fluff (all), alcohol consumption (story 3)

word count: 3,505

a/n: so this is for my springtime anon for the bnhaclaimedmysoul event!!!! this was written for @brattyquirks​ !!!! anyways, I couldn’t decide what to write you sab, so I decided to hell with it and gave you four little short stories based off your favorite cliches!!!! I hope you enjoy 🌺

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SPIN THE BOTTLE 

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“If you don’t spin the bottle, we’re going to make you kiss Mineta!”

“You can’t make me do shit, raccoon eyes! This’s a fucking brats game anyways, why the hell am I going to play?!”

Your eyes shone with ever-loving glee at the sight of Bakugou, gritting his teeth with his lip pulled up into a snarl. His eyes were focused on Mina, who was waving the bottle in her hand, her face in a full grin while she stared on the peeved ash blond man.

“Because its a staple to a teenager’s life, and apparently no ones played yet!”

“It’s not going to be something I fucking play!”

It often amused you that Mina was one of the only people in the class who wasn’t afraid to play chicken with Bakugou, even more hilarious being that she won the majority of the time.

“Midoriya and Todoroki already took their chances at spinning it once,” Mina sighed, her arms picking up into a shrug while she shook her head. You watched in quiet glee in the way her eyes slowly opened, like some predator corning in on her prey. “But hey, I guess that means you’re not—”

“Give me the fucking bottle!”

And she had won.

Folding your arms, you watched Bakugou break into the circle of students, slamming the glass bottle onto the floor and turning it as quickly as he could, the words “die” announced to the class. You took in the way that his face was set into a frown, the corners of his mouth cemented into this permanent scowl. But you knew that it was for show, even you knew Bakugou better after three years of being his classmate, his eyes always told a different story. 

The two of you were pretty close for what could be considered relationships for Bakugou. While you weren’t apart of his core group of friends, the two of you held mutual respect and trust for each other that transcended that of daily interaction. The bottle spun for what seemed like ages, and you watched in hopefulness that it would land on someone good.

Slowly the lip of the bottle landed on Shoji, and Bakugou raged that it wasn’t fair. 

Much to Bakugou’s unamusement, to Shoji’s prayers that he wouldn’t be killed, and to the rest of your classmates tear-jerking howling laughter they kissed.

“I’m fucking out of here!” Bakugou screamed, throwing himself to his feet, ready to retreat to his room with the hours of night looming in. “Get this shitty game away from me, I never want to play—”

“You can’t leave yet!” Mina cried out, grabbing his wrist before he could escape the circle, “Y/n-chan is the last one to go, and you have to watch!”

“I don’t fucking care if it was All Mights damn turn, I’m not staying!”

“Come on, Bakugou, it’s not like it’ll take more than ten seconds!” you chide, your nose wrinkling at him in your mock disgust. “What’s the worst that’ll happen? I get to kiss your best friend?”

Bakugou’s nostrils flare, a visible indicator that he took in your words as a challenge of sorts and would follow through with staying. So with a grin, you grabbed the bottle and spun it.

You didn’t really care about who it landed on; after all, most of your classmates had already had strange matchups, the worst being a kiss from Kaminari and Mineta. As long as you didn’t land on Mineta, you’d call that a win. The bottle stilled, and you looked down to where it was pointing.

Bakugou.

His eyes widened, pupils were blown, and his jaw to the floor.

“HELL NO, I JUST KISSED OCTOPUS LIKE HELL I’M GOING TWICE!”

“Oh my god, you big baby,” you laugh, standing up. You reach Bakugou, who looks seconds from fighting, moments from running, yet allowed you to approach him regardless. What a rule-abiding nerd he could be.

“Pucker up,” you tease and seal your lips over his while your classmates scream.

After you pulled away, you hated to admit that your heart hammered in your ears, months of denial over your feelings gone up in flames while he stares at you in silence. Your classmates begin to clean up; no one quite aware of how you were both just staring. But when Mina’s arm is thrown around your shoulders, your attention is stolen, and you walk off, ready to help out.

In twenty minutes, you make it back to your room, your lips still tingling in their tiny explosions of the past feeling of his smooth lips against yours. A wistful sigh escaped your lips, you knew better than to expect anything from King Explosion Murder himself.

A knock on the door startled you. Having been caught up in thought, the noise made you curse under your breath. Walking to the door, you opened it up, your eyes widening when you saw Bakugou there, his eyebrows knit, lips pursed.

“You okay, Bakugou?” you asked, concerned for your friend.

He finally meets your gaze, and his stare is intense. Vermillion eyes hold yours without a single waiver in them; it’s intense, almost too intense to the point where you want to look away. But you don’t, you can’t look away. A harsh expel of air escapes his nose, and you’re useless to the way that he surges forward, hands grasping your cheeks and lips crashing against yours.

There’s nothing to say to this, but you can attest to the fact that your hands grabbed his biceps, your lips moving passionately with his until your bedroom door closed behind him.

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BEST FRIENDS BEING IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER

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Days at the lake were something you earnestly enjoyed. The gentle feeling of spring in the air, the sun warm against your skin, and the fresh green plants emerging from the once dead fields. It was perfect, almost tranquil if you were quiet enough.

But if there was anything to know about you and your best friend Bakugou Katsuki, it was that tranquility was something that happened once in a lifetime, and that moment was not now.

“Running away is useless!” Bakugou roared from a distance.

The cold sand flung from your feet while you ran as fast as you possibly could, the oxygen in your veins feeling like fire as you attempted to both run away and laugh at the predicament he was in.

What had started as a fun day at the lake that had finally thawed over from winter winds, turned into something stupidly competitive. You wouldn’t say you were a sore loser because you didn’t lose, but in this case where Bakugou had very obviously beaten you in rock skipping contest because he applied his quirk after you went without using your own. So in your fuming loss, you used your quirk to dump water all over his hair, leaving his hair and shoulder soaked.

His reaction to this was almost feline-like, his back arching, face set in an uproarious hiss while you howled with laughter, already running away. It took him time to respond to your act of war, but with him running like hell was at his heels, it was only a matter of time before he caught up to you.

You screamed for forgiveness, trying with everything you had to escape from his tight and torturous grasp, but you were losing. 

“This is what you get for soaking me with water!” Bakugou exclaims, tossing you into the ice-cold water, your shocked and defeated scream echoing across the water until it was drowned out by you going under. 

“You’re a dick!” you scream when you reemerge from under the water, fake tears pouring from your eyes, the cold water clinging, and stabbing into your body that was now exposed to the sweet air.

Bakugou looks ashamed right away, and you were sure that he hadn’t expected to have flung you so far into the water, or for you to not land on your feet. “Shit, I’m so — hEY!!!”

With your hands on his wrist, you threw him into the water, his angry screams erupting across the land the moment he reemerged from the lake. So there the two of you stood, thigh-deep into the lake, both soaked to the bone. Hands gripping each other, a feeble attempt at wrestling each other. His wet hair was slick to his forehead, the shine on his face from the water, and his heated words only inciting a fire within you that made you forget that you too were cold.

“You’re the worst!” you yell, trying to shove him forward with your interlaced fingers. “A tiny dildo is what you are!”

“A fucking dildo?! Why the ever-loving fuck would I be—?!”

“Cuz, you’re fake like plastic!!!”

“You’re an idiot, fucking dumbass nerd!”

“Oh yeah, well, you like this dumbass nerd!”

“And what if I do?!”

There was a silence that overcame the both of you, his cheeks simmering to the same degree as yours. In this silence, you weren’t sure what to say, and in a moment where you were unsure of the warmth being from your elation of his words or from your cold body hyperventilating from the cold water, you spoke.

“Do something about it then.”

There was no saying as to how this transpired, honestly it was one of the weakest fake arguments you’ve ever had with Bakugou, but with the rebirth of spring, there must have been something in the air to make his lips come crashing against yours. A wild and powerful force that ignited sparks and explosions within you, and a promise for more between both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes wide and wild, you took in Bakugou’s soft and heavy-lidded eyes and watched as his lips perked into a pleasant smile.

“Took you long enough, dumbass…”

“HOW IS THIS MY FAULT, BAKUGOU KATSUKI?!”

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ACCIDENTAL KISS

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The world was blurry while you brought your hand to your mouth. But where you had been expecting a bottle of whatever alcohol you had been drinking, you were met with nothing but your warm hand.

“Where’s my drink?! Oh no, did I drop… did I drop it?! Bakugou is going to kill me!”

Your typical cheerful and chaotic energy while being drunk had become sad and chaotic energy at the realization that you couldn’t find your drink that you knew you had. And even more so at the thought of the man you had a crush on hating on you for dropping it on the floor.

“What the hell are you wailing about, I have your drink right here, idiot.”

You whip to the side and see that Bakugou is the person holding your hand, guiding you back to your apartment. 

“Katsuki, you’re taking me back to my dorm?” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes at the thought of how kind your crush was being to you. “You didn’t have to do this!”

“Yeah, well, your drunk ass was not walking back home alone, especially not this late at night when weirdos and perverts can be out,” he justified, making sure you avoided the bush when you stumbled against a bump on the floor. 

“I’m drunk, huh,” you giggle, pressing into his side, your body warm with the bitter liquid coursing through your veins. “That’s pretty crazy because I distinctly remember only taking… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nineeeeeee shots! That’s not even that much!”

“Nine shots?! I’m going to kill that drunk idiot when I get back!” Bakugou snarls his arm fastening around your waist when you climb up the stairs, something you don’t understand why he does considering, all in all, you were walking just fine.

“Katsuki, can I confess something to ya?” you hum against his warm shoulder, breathing in his caramel scent with a happy sigh. 

“Not if you wouldn’t admit it when you’re sober.”

“Well, that’s no fun to drunken confession and besides!” you slur, slamming your hand against his chest. “I don’t ever make sense.”

“Well, that much is true,” Bakugou sighs, grabbing your keys and opening your apartment door. “Come on, get in.” 

You comply without a fight, skipping into your apartment with a stretch.

“Now, now, you get back home and text me when you get back, no funny business young man!” you exclaim, thrusting a finger into his chest, your lips pulled into a serious pout.

“Ya fucking right dumbass, I’m getting your ass into bed before I leave,” Bakugou grunt turning you towards your bathroom to assist you in getting ready for bed.

Within the next thirty minutes, you nearly succeed in getting Bakugou to rip his hair from his scalp. From first refusing to pee unless he was holding your hand, then forbidding to brush your teeth until he hugged you first. Of course, then it was the fact that you walked out butt naked after claiming you didn’t care if he saw you naked, and that you hated the PJs he chose for you. And how he had to chase you around the apartment to get you into bed.

But finally, Bakugou squatted at the edge of your bed, his face close to yours while you took long blinks, sleep catching up to you quickly.

“Goodnight, pain in my ass,” Bakugou says to your nodding off form.

“Thank you for always taking care of me,” you whimper, your hand stretching out to touch his face, the world slowly spinning. “You might act like a bad boy, but it’s okay, I can handle it for moments like this.”

“I don’t know what you’re — mmph!”

Your lips were pressed against his, a kiss that tasted faintly of alcohol on his own lips and the mint of your toothpaste.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips before pulling away, sleep consuming you before Bakugou could speak.

When you woke up the next morning, your body hangover-free, you were shocked and scared to see Bakugou sitting on your chair fast asleep. It wasn’t until he woke up did you genuinely feel fear crawl and bite you in the throat when he spoke up after staring at you for a minute straight.

“So, about last night.”

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FAKE DATING

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“I can’t believe I got stuck with you,” Bakugou grits while the both of you walk around the mall, your fingers dancing along your chin while you check out the clothes in the window.

“Why’s that? Is it because I make your hands sweat, heart skip beats, and make you stammer more than anyone else in the world?” you tease your focus entirely on the outfit in the window, trying to imagine how it would look like on your body instead of the mannequin.

“You know damn well that’s not the fucking case!”

Laughing, you nodded, turning to look at Bakugou with a grin, “Well, I’m sorry you drew the short end of the stick!”

What had started off as a class after school field trip had become ‘where the fuck is everyone?’

It maybe was your fault for dragging Bakugou into the nearest store because you saw the stupidest skull shirt you wanted him to buy and ended up with the two of you coming out of said store, the black skull shirt folded neatly in a bag that Bakugou held, and your classmates were gone. Bakugou had yelled at you for five minutes while you apologized profusely for separating the two of you from the group. 

A quick text from Kirishima had stated that everyone went their own ways anyway, but that meet up time at the food court would be at 5:30. 

“How do you think that would look on me?” you asked, pointing to the white spring outfit in the window. You had needed more outfits, years of not having anything cute had made you want to try something new with the new spring season.

“Fucking weird,” was Bakugou’s automatic response despite not looking at the outfit.

“Come on, brat, look at it first!”

“Who the hell are you calling brat?” Bakugou grumbled but looked at the white outfit in the window. He was quiet for some time, almost too quiet for how you knew Bakugou was. He looked over at you, his face set seriously, and he sighed. “It would look great on you.”

You smiled widely and nodded, “Okay!”

It took ten minutes for you to find the outfit in your size, to affirm it was a good fit, to buy it, and then to leave the store. Bakugou took the green cream bag from your hand, adding it to the other bags he had been holding for the two of you, and you were grateful.

Grabbing his elbow, you were ready to drag him off to a store he would like better, but you froze when you saw a familiar pair of eyes in the distance.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

It had been a year relationship that started off beautifully and ended disastrously. While you wished you could have concluded that relationship on amicable terms, it ended on something closer to, “I hate you,” and “don’t ever talk to me again,” and “I can find someone better than you any day,” and finally, “you couldn’t find someone to like you back.”

To say the least, you still hadn’t found anyone knew, and your arm firmly locked around Bakugou’s arm, your body stiffening slightly.

Bakugou felt it.

“What the fucks wrong with you?” he asked, his eyebrows knit in confusion, and you looked up at him, your eyes relaying to him everything.

“I see my ex, and I said I would be with someone the next time I saw him,” you whisper, your feet feeling cemented onto the floor as your ex drew nearer and nearer.

Bakugou’s lips twitched, his nose scrunching in his premeditative way of know just what you were going to ask. 

“You fucking owe me,” he hissed under his breath, his hand moving to rest on your hip, keeping you close as only lovers do. 

“Thank you,” you whispered in graciousness, your lips pecking his cheek in a display of affection.

“Y/n!” your ex called, and you look at him, he was standing in front of you, a confident smile on his face. “Long time no see, how have you been?”

“Good,” you answer with a tight smile. “You?”

“Much better now, but I gotta say I do miss you a lot.”

Your face wrinkles in astounded horror, the slightest bit of disgust and disbelief while he seems to ignore Bakugou all together.

“Listen, I know I said a lot of shitty things to you awhile back, but I’m so sorry!” he says, his face nor tone showing regret. “I know you’re not seeing anyone right now, so if you want to have an amazing boyfriend again, I’ll consider taking you back!”

“Fucking horse mouth,” Bakugou snapped, his teeth gritting together while he glared at your ex, his finger digging into your side. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Hm?” he alliterated, his eyes lazily falling onto Bakugou, “Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

“Yeah, and fucking back off before I shove my fist down your throat, asshole,” Bakugou threatened, his eyes squinting, his shoulders stiff.

“And why should I?” he asked, his lips pulled into a taunt. “Even if you’re dating, y/n-chan, it’s not like you’re any better than me, right Bakugou Katsuki? Y/n is grown, and I’m obviously the more mature one of…” he trailed off.

Why exactly?

Well, it seemed both you and Bakugou had the same exact idea. Your fingers thread through the thick hair at the nape of his neck. His fingers slipping under your shirt to rest against your warm back and your lips meeting in a passionate affair. His lips were tantalizing against yours, viciously warm, effortlessly smooth while your mouths moved in synch. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids, electricity emitting through your joined lips while they moved impassioned for each other. 

His hold was tight, and your head tilted with your tongue, obviously coming to sweep at his bottom tongue.

“Do you have any shame?!” a voice broke from your left, and you saw an elder staring at the two of you with obvious shock at the intense PDA the two of you had just shared.

You couldn’t even find the words to apologize, your mind utterly consumed with the need to have Bakugou’s mouth pressed against yours once again. The both of you were blissfully unaware of the fact that your ex had since scurried away the moment the kissing took a sensual turn.

“Um,” Bakugou seemed to be at a loss too, and you studied his face that seemed to be going through a million more emotions than he was used to. “Was that—?”

“If you want,” you tease, bringing your lips once more to the corner of his mouth before grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

[rkived]

drabble #5: the highlight of the day for pediatricsurgeon!jungkook is when generalsurgeon!reader stops by his office with his daily iced americano. except today, someone else has delivered it for him.

or, in which you should be a little more careful to who you tell jungkook’s coffee preferences. (hospitalplaylist!au)

↩ previous | 📍drabbles masterlist

Jungkook likes iced americano. 

He’s not really an avid coffee drinker. Definitely not one of those ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ sort of people, but he does like to drink an iced americano once a day. 

Not because he needs it to survive, but because it’s become part of his daily routine ever since he started working at the hospital. 

A routine you had started for him and that still to this day you continued to feed. 

He can’t complain. 

One of his highlights of the day is when you pop by into his office, whether it be announced or out of the blue, with an iced americano for him. 

He doesn’t even have to ask for one, you just always bring it to him. 

And on the days you can’t bring him his coffee, he just doesn’t drink it. As if there’s no purpose to go down to the hospital’s coffee shop and buy one for himself, because where’s the fun in that if it doesn’t come from you?

But today, surprisingly enough, Jungkook is drinking an iced americano that was not given by you. 

Instead, first year intern Lee Heeyoung was the provider this time. 

And it’s not unusual for interns and residents to give out small gifts to their superiors. Actually, when Jungkook used to be the favorite doctor around, it wasn’t a surprise when someone would shyly knock on his office door and bring a pastry or a drink from the coffee shop, a token of admiration and sometimes as a way to ask a small favor from the pediatrician.

Thing is, no one had ever brought him an iced americano before. 

Maybe because the pediatrician doesn’t seem like the type to drink one or because he always had his in the privacy of his office away from curious eyes, usually the only witnesses around for that were you and Taehyung.

First year intern Heeyoung had come into his office, a shy look on her face and Jungkook had to practically beg her to come in and his eyes widened slightly at the iced americano she was holding on her trembling hand, which Jungkook figured out was due to the coldness of the drink. 

She apologized for interrupting his free time and he assured her it was alright, then she took a deep breath and said:

‘���Dr. Jeon, I don’t want to cross boundaries but I was wondering if, maybe, you could give me the opportunity to go into the O.R next time you have an operation. I know that interns usually don’t get to go in, but I just wanted to see if you would allow me to─’’

Then, Jungkook interrupted her.

‘‘Of course you can, Heeyoung.’’ 

And after she thanked him a dozen times with the biggest smile, she placed the cup of iced americano over his desk as she explained it was a way of thanking him, whether or not he complied to her request. 

She left shortly after, apologizing for the interruption once again and leaving before Jungkook could tell her there was no problem. 

The pediatrician stared at the drink in his desk and wondered what a coincidence it was that this is the one she decided to give him. 

He shrugged his shoulders and sipped the coffee anyway. 

Jungkook’s just about done with the drink when his office’s door opens suddenly, almost making him choke with the liquid in his throat. 

This is how he can tell the difference between an intern or resident with his friends. 

‘‘Oh! Kook, I’m so sorr─’’ 

Your apology at the notice of your coughing friend with an almost done iced americano on his hand makes you stop abruptly. 

Why is he holding an iced americano when you are holding his on your hand? 

Jungkook quickly recovers from his coughing fit and pouts at you ‘‘I’m going to have to start asking you guys to knock before coming in.’’ 

You completely ignore his comment and focus on the cup in his hand. The coffee cup holder you’re carrying feels heavy and…awkward. 

‘‘I didn’t know you went down for coffee,’’ you say with the softest voice possible, concealing whatever confusion you felt ‘‘you could’ve told me.’’

Your coffee cup felt lonely. Usually, you only bought Jungkook’s, but today you decided that you’d make him some company, buying yourself an iced americano as well. 

You didn’t even like the drink, but since Jungkook enjoys it you’d make a small sacrifice. 

Now you have two iced americanos and they don’t look appealing enough to force yourself to drink them. 

‘‘Oh, I didn’t buy this,’’ he clarifies and you look back at him with a raised eyebrow ‘‘one of the interns gave it to me. Lee Heeyoung, you’ve seen her?’’.

There’s a glint of annoyance in your eyes, but you quickly turn to look somewhere else before Jungkook can notice. 

Oh, you’ve seen Lee Heeyoung. 

More importantly, you saw Lee Heeyoung earlier that day when she casually asked you during the waiting line at the hospital’s cafeteria what was your favorite drink to order at the coffee shop.

‘‘Well, I usually go for a latte.’’ you answer with a small smile, it was hard to decide what your favorite drink was, but lattes were your go-to most of the time. 

‘‘Oh, I like that too!’’ she commented and you nodded, turning back around figuring the conversation was over. ‘‘And doctor, do you know what Dr. Jeon’s favorite drink is?’’ she shyly asked, making you turn around again. 

You gave her a quizzical look, but her face displayed nothing but innocence. 

‘‘He likes iced americano.’’ you answered and she nodded as if she had correctly grasped the information you had given her. 

‘‘Thank you, Dr. I won’t bother you any further.’’ she smiled.

You know you shouldn’t feel bothered by this because it’s not strange to receive stuff like that from interns and residents alike. You had gotten plenty of drinks and pastries given to you by the younger interns before.

But it just doesn’t sit right with you that your best friend had practically finished the drink you, and no else but you, have always brought him. 

‘‘Y/N?’’ he calls you over, noticing how you hadn’t answered his question about whether or not you knew Heeyoung. He notices the two drinks sitting on the table ‘‘I can still drink one of those─’’

‘‘No.’’ 

Jungkook is taken aback by your stern tone, he usually only hears it when he’s being scolded by something he did. But Jungkook’s sure he hasn’t done anything wrong. 

Right?

You instantly notice how angry that simple answer came out and you clear your throat ‘‘I mean─no. I bought this for, uhm,’’ you quickly try to think of any of your friends ‘‘Taehyung! Yeah, Taehyung.’’

You’re trying to convince yourself here because the neurosurgeon hates iced americano. He’s more of a cappuccino guy. Also, you’ve never bought Taehyung a drink before. 

‘‘Taehyung?’’ Jungkook asks, surprise hinting in his tone because he can’t believe that. ‘‘Taehyung is scheduled for surgery all night,’’ Jungkook informs you ‘‘and he doesn’t like iced americano, he always makes fun of me for drinking it.’’ 

Oh, right. 

You fake a cough ‘‘Really?’’

Jungkook nods and his gaze is entirely focused on you, waiting to see if you show any signs of this being a total prank. You’re never this oblivious. 

‘‘I didn’t know.’’ you fake chuckle and Jungkook’s head tilts.

If Jungkook knows you as well as he usually tells his other friends he does, he’d realize you’re lying and your facade is slowly fading away. And you’re hoping he does call you out because you’re definitely not bringing it up first. 

But instead, he shrugs his shoulders and decides that he won’t prod any further. 

“Did I tell you that Jin came by a few hours ago?” 

Jungkook changed the topic, retelling how your plastic surgeon friend had come down from his office for what felt like forever. And it was big news, considering Jin rarely leaves his office to exchange pleasantries, but you’re too focused on that damn cup now placed in his desk.

Mocking you with its emptiness, reminding you that Jungkook had drinked it without any second thought.

“He kept shifting in his seat, it was so funny,” Jungkook laughs “I told him not all of us had the privilege of having a leather couch imported from—”

The pediatrician is interrupted by you suddenly grabbing the plastic cup and throwing it in the garbage bin beside his desk. He’s rendered speechless by your action as you heaved with anger. 

“I was gonna throw that out later.” Jungkook mutters as you dust your hands in your lab coat. 

“Your welcome.” you mumble

A silence follows after and it’s not like the ones you usually both have. It’s not comfortable or peaceful, but filled with tension instead. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks carefully, not wanting to push any buttons since it seems you’re a moment away from yelling in frustration.

You don’t do that, however, you do look at him like you’re about to give him a piece of your mind and poor Jungkook is not ready for that at all. 

But you sigh. You close your eyes momentarily as you breathe in again. 

“Nothing.” you answer back with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes “Everything’s peachy.” 

Please call me out, please call me out on my bullshit.

“Alright, Y/N.” he sighs, hand scratching the side of his head “But can I—”

He’s not allowed to finish his request because you dump the two drinks you had bought inside his garbage bin without any further announcement. 

Jungkook is left with his mouth hanging open as he looks at the wasted coffee probably making a mess inside the bin. 

“I gotta go, I’m needed in the E.R.”

You’re not. Your phone didn’t ring with the usual tone you have set it up as whenever you have emergency calls. 

Jungkook is about to tell you that, but the shock of the drinks dies down by the time the door closes and he’s realized you’ve left.

— 

“Ah, fuck, not you again.” 

Taehyung has just finished his six hour surgery. Fresh off of telling the patient’s family members that everything had gone according to plan, but that the patient was to be kept in the I.C.U for further checkups. 

His neck hurts and he’s wishing he could have Yoonah come over to give him a massage. Instead, he’s greeted by the sight of his youngest friend waiting for him at his desk’s chair.

“Why haven’t you gone home? It’s late.” Taehyung asks him, laying down on his couch as he closes his eyes.

Due to his patient being in the intensive care unit, he chooses not to go home and stay in case anything happens. He knows this because of prior experience.

“I want to ask you something.” Jungkook quietly asks, ignoring his friend’s question.  

Taehyung hums “If this is about that boneless wings or regular wings discourse then I don’t wanna hear it.” his friend warns him.

If this wasn’t a serious matter Jungkook would have argued that regular wings are better than boneless ones, unlike what Yoongi had said on the groupchat last night. But he has more important topics to ask about right now.

“No, it’s not that,” he clarifies “I just—I want to know, since you’re the only one who’s dating in the group…” 

“Yeah?” Taehyung encourages him to continue.

“How—uhm, how do you tell when Yoonah’s jealous?”

Jungkook’s question is not one Taehyung had expected, it makes him abruptly switch from laying down to a sitting position. This is actually serious for once.

“Jealous, how? Like, when she’s jealous of other girls?” Taehyung asks, just to make sure this is what his younger friend is referring to. 

Jungkook nods with a stoic expression.

“Well, Yoonah is slightly different in the way she approaches jealousy. Like, with the other girls I dated they would never tell me they were jealous.” Taehyung begins to explain “But Yoonah, on the other hand, she’s up-front about it and like, aggressively so.” 

“Could you explain?” Jungkook shyly asks and Taehyung nods.

“Let’s say that Yoonah sees me talking to—I don’t know, a nurse? I might be having a normal conversation regarding a patient or something, but Yoonah sees it as if I’m telling the girl that I want to move in with her, have five kids and live on a farm.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung chuckles “and she tells me straight away that she doesn’t like the girl, that she doesn’t trust them and that I shouldn’t be talking to her.” Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly “I don’t know, she says she has a sixth sense or something.”

“But she tells you she’s jealous?” 

“Oh, hell no,” Taehyung replies “Yoonah would rather eat glass shards than ever admitting she’s jealous.” 

That must hurt.

“But I just know, y’know?” 

Jungkook looks at him like he’s lost and Taehyung sighs. Sometimes the youngest could be a little too slow for his liking.

“It’s clear when a girl is jealous, dude. Whether they try to make it obvious or not. They get defensive, evade your questions, get a little more irritable.” 

Jungkook gasps slightly and Taehyung cocks an eyebrow at him, wondering what is the matter. But the pediatrician is not telling him anything, especially knowing Taehyung’s a fifth placer who isn’t worthy of knowing information as important as this.

Plus he’s tired of hearing the neurosurgeon bother him with the fact that after all those hypotheticals that Jungkook was sure were never going to happen, they ended up becoming a reality. 

A reality that Jungkook had to put up with because his older friend could not shut up about it.

“I gotta go, thanks.” The youngest quickly excuses himself from Taehyung’s office, leaving the neurosurgeon with a puzzled expression and a few unanswered questions.

There’s a slight bounce to Jungkook’s step as he walks through the hospital’s hallways. 

He’s trying hard not to break into a grin, but he can’t help the slight smirk that appears on his face because now he knows.

a/n: let’s play a fun lil game in where u take a shot every time i mentioned iced americano n yes u should take another one now !! lol i don’t rlly have much to say besides jk n reader r both idiots but we’re making some progress :P hope u enjoyed <3

[kyber-queen]

Cold Feet (Din Djarin x F!reader)

Summary: Reader is a badass medic/bounty hunter who happens to be hopelessly in love with her stoic, metal-clad shipmate. Lil bit of jealous Din, some good old bed sharing, and a little bit of fluff :)

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 2k ope

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, brief mentions of surgery, mentions of alcohol

Author’s Note: Hi guys!! This is my first fic so I’d really appreciate it if you gave it a read and some feedback. I might be writing a part two to this but we’ll see. Enjoy!!

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

You had only been on this ice planet for two rotations, but the chill had already crept its way into your insides. Your bones ached and your joints creaked, and you wondered how the little green child you had been tasked with managing seemed entirely unaffected by the unforgiving cold. You and the kid had holed up quite nicely for the past two days, bundling yourselves in blankets and tucking the child away into its pod, which had been outfitted with a temperature regulation system. Lucky bastard. While it slept peacefully inside its cradle, you had used up nearly all of the water reserve on the Crest. You’d been taking hour-long trips to the refresher, the scalding water providing little relief from the dull, cold ache that gnawed at your shivering limbs. Mando previously explained that successfully catching this bounty would take four rotations, give or take, and you had been too exhausted to ask questions or remember to replenish your food and water reserve. Now, your supplies were running low and you were dreading the mile-long walk into town to restock.

You strapped traction spikes onto your sturdiest boots and wrapped yourself in your warmest layers, stealing one of Mando’s old cloaks for good measure. Once you checked to make sure the child was asleep and comfortable in its pod, you set off across the frozen landscape. Ice rose like a parted sea to your left and right, and in the distance, you saw the gentle flicker of a lantern in the window of a dome-shaped structure. You picked up the pace as you walked; dusk was upon you and although you knew you could take care of yourself, you feared what could be hiding inside the many caves that marked the surrounding ice-walls.

You were an herbalist by trade, first catching Mando’s eye with your skill in preparing poisons. You had taken out two trandoshans with two quick, well-aimed throws of a dart tipped with your poison of choice—it was fast acting and non-lethal, and Mando in his curiosity and awe was just distracted enough for the third trandoshan to slip a dagger through the gap in his beskar. You finished off the third trandoshan easily enough, and Mando quickly became acquainted with your second skill set. You dragged him back to his ship, prepared a hemostatic tincture, stripped him of his beskar chest plate, and stitched up a two-inch laceration to his spleen. You insisted on staying with him until you could confirm that his wound had healed, but it had been three months and the two of you had reached a sort of mutual understanding. You cared for the child and assisted on bounties, and he gave you free room and board and an overly generous 30% of the bounty profit. Somewhere between bandaging his wounds, assisting him on bounties, and caring for his child, you had noticed a certain tightness in your chest whenever your hand brushed his. You would find yourself seeking out his company more and more, relishing in quiet conversation as he piloted you through the stars. You were falling. Hard. And you knew even on the off chance that he returned a fraction of the feelings you were developing for him, it could never happen. You’d never see his face or know his name. It was stupid, really. You were business partners, together purely out of convenience. You needed to get this silly crush out of your system before you managed to screw up the tentative friendship the two of you had grown.

Once you haggled for rations and water, you made up your mind that you would go to the nearest cantina and spend the rest of your credits on forgetting your troubles for a while. Although your plodding pace didn’t seem to carry you any further towards the lantern in the window, you were now only a few yards away from the village outpost. You quickened your stride, rushing into the hemispherical stone building and relishing in the warmth that overwhelmed you as the door slammed shut against the cold. You had been so lost in your thoughts you had nearly forgotten to shiver. You leaned casually over the counter to begin your haggling, the man behind it matching your sorry attempt at negotiating lower prices stride for stride. He was handsome, with an easy smile and a voice that rumbled deep from within his chest.

“I’ll do thirty portions, at three quarters of a credit each, but that’s the highest I can go,” you stated confidently. You fiddled with the ring on your right hand, hoping he couldn’t tell just how little experience you had at this.

The man, Linor, grinned. “I think we can arrange that—but only if you join me for a drink after this. I’ll throw in the water rations on the house.”

A drink couldn’t hurt, right? You were planning on headed to the bar anyways.

“It’s a deal, then,” you smiled, reaching out to shake his hand.

“It’s a deal,”.

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

You were four drinks in, and you were finally feeling warm. Your laughs bubbled in your throat, and the raucous atmosphere of the cantina dulled the cold ache that had settled in your bones. The room had taken on a soft, undulating glow, and your cheeks were flushed and gleaming. Linor was an excellent conversationalist, but the pair of you had been at the cantina for three hours, and you could tell he was itching to take you back to his ship. His hand had migrated from the top of your knee to your upper thigh, and when you laughed his eyes lingered on your parted lips for just a moment too long. You crossed your legs, effectively removing his hand from your thigh, and cleared your throat.

“What time is it? I promised my friend I’d be home by midnight,” a white lie, of course, but Linor didn’t need to know that.

“It’s quarter to eleven—comm them, let ‘em know you’ll be late. You’re coming to my place, right?” You didn’t like the sound of Linor’s tone, it was too confident, too demanding. His hand was back on your upper thigh as well, this time a rough squeeze jarring you fully back to reality. The more aware you became of your situation, the more you mentally kicked yourself for letting yourself end up in the cantina in the first place. You had left the baby in its pod, for maker’s sake. What if someone raided the ship, or the pod shut off, or the child got sick, or—

“Actually, she was just leaving,” a rough voice explained from behind you. A familiar voice. Mando.

You turned quickly to face him, and nearly wobbled off your stool. Maybe you had more to drink than you thought. You gave him a lazy once-over, letting your gaze linger on his armored form, and aptly assessed that he didn’t have the bounty with him.

“Didja get the bounty?”

“He’s in the carbonite freezer on the ship, the baby’s asleep. Let’s go,” He sounded pissed.

You stood from your stool, and promptly tripped face-first into his beskar chest-plate. You definitely had more to drink than you thought. You issued an insincere apology to Linor, who was making some very intense eye contact with the wood grain of the bar. As much as you hated to say it, you loved the effect Mando had on people. Tall, confident Linor wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Mando could be downright scary, and the best part was that he didn’t even seem to realize it. You enjoyed your little train of thought for a moment, until you circled back to the fact that his scary-bounty-hunter-tone was directed at you. His visor had not left your face the entire time you were lost in thought. You wobbled again, against your will.

“You’re drunk,”. His head tilted, the black t of his helmet fixating on your flushed face. He sighed, muttered something about talking about this in the morning, and scooped one arm under your knees and another at the small of your back. He carried you back out into the cold and you shuddered involuntarily as he dumped you onto the cold metal of the speeder. He shuffled in behind you on the speeder, his armored thighs bracketing yours. You lost your balance yet again, and as you steadied yourself against Mando’s chest you were suddenly very grateful that he had seated you in front of him rather than behind. He fired up the engine, and the two of you flew across the frozen landscape back to the ship.

If you thought you were cold before, now you were freezing. The wind bit at your exposed face, and despite bundling yourself in Mando’s old cloak, the icy air slipped in between the grain of the fabric and sapped the residual warmth from your limbs. You shifted further back into Mando’s chest, fixating on the rumble of the engine as you approached the Crest. The speeder skidded to a stop, and Mando slid off and fiddled with his vambrace for a moment before giving you a quiet, “C’mere,” and carrying you through the cold into the Crest. He carried you right past your little blanket pile and set you down in a corner of the ship. He punched a few more buttons on his vambrace, and a door opened behind you, revealing a small room with a bed and—was that a heated blanket?

“It’s warmer in here, I’ll take the cot,” Mando explained.

“Hey, no. Wait, is this your room? I’m not gonna steal your bed,” you crossed your arms defiantly, leaning back on the wall for support.

“I’m asking you to,” his voice betrayed a hint of exasperation, and you remembered the long, exhausting day he most definitely had. “Look, you’re shivering. If you freeze to death in that cot the kid’ll never forgive me,”.

You sensed you were fighting a losing battle.

“But if you freeze to death in that cot, the kid’ll never forgive me,” you mentally patted yourself on the back for that excellent stroke of logic.

“I’ll be fine, just go—”

“Why don’t we just share? Body heat, right?” Did you really just say that? You were sober enough to know that you definitely should have kept your mouth shut. You probably just made him uncomfortable, what if it was against his creed? You were mentally kicking yourself for the second time tonight.

Mando paused a moment before responding.

“Alright—the helmet stays on, though,” He was already stripping himself of his beskar, but his mechanical movements betrayed his exhaustion.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” You made your way over to the bed, shucking off your shoes and quickly slipping under the covers. The thin mattress was softer than the cot, but barely. Was being comfortable against the Way?

You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that tipsy you would be sharing a bed with the man you’d been crushing on for months. With your luck, you’d probably drool on him in your sleep. Mando hit the lights, and moments later you felt a depression on the other side of the mattress, and Mando’s warm, solid body against your back. You scooted further back against him, and as if on instinct, he draped his arm around your waist. You were finally comfortable—you felt warmer than you had at the cantina. You were quickly drifting off to sleep, and by the sound of Mando’s modulated breathing, he was out like a light. A slight snore from under the helmet confirmed your suspicions. The man was like a generator. He practically radiated heat, and you suddenly felt less guilty that you hadn’t taken the cot like you had originally insisted on. You bent your knees, slipping your cold toes in between his calves.

CLANG

His helmet hit the durasteel wall, and you felt his entire body jolt.

“Why the fuck are your feet so cold?”

[imaginedhaven]

In the Bleak Midwinter

a Rowaelin holiday oneshot

Summary:

Aelin Galathynius returns to Orynth for the first time in years after a rough breakup, having promised her cousin that they could spend Yulemas together. She couldn’t have known how much everything in Orynth had changed... or perhaps it was she who had done the changing.

As she runs into old faces and meets a new face as well, she comes to realize that perhaps her life isn’t done changing after all.

Word Count: approx. 15,000

Rating: M

Warnings/Contents: Modern AU, Kidfic, Non-Graphic Sexual Content, Flashbacks

~*~*~

Snow crunched under Aelin’s boot as she stepped onto the corner of a street she’d thought she’d never see again.

It had been five long years since she’d set foot in Orynth at all, much less on this street in particular. She had left the small town behind as soon as she’d graduated from high school, and had never intended to look back. She still wouldn’t have, were it not for an invitation from her cousin at exactly the right time.

A wind blew down the street, picking up snow that lingered in the branches of dormant trees. A child’s laugh rang clear as a bell down the street, and a lower echo came from behind her. “Aelin, you didn’t mention that you used to live in a literal winter wonderland.”

She turned to see her former college roommate and current best friend trying to catch one of the stray flakes on her tongue, more clinging to her chestnut curls, and couldn’t stop herself from smiling despite the hollow feeling in her chest. “Lysandra, I’m sure I complained to you literally every winter break about having to go back home to six feet of snow. There’s a reason I didn’t ask Aedion to pick us up at the train station.”

It was true; though it was no longer actively snowing, there was no way her cousin would’ve made it to the station to greet them. The snow must have only just ended recently, within the past half hour if she had to hazard a guess. No, even with each of them carrying a bag with them it had been safer to walk the short distance between the station and the house on the end of this lane.

The house had once been her uncle’s, and she had lived in that little house for more of her life than she hadn’t. She had moved in when she was only eight, after her parents had died, and she remembered standing on its porch for the first time as a terrified little girl.

Go on, Uncle Gavriel had said then, knowing it had been what she’d needed to hear at the time. It echoed in her mind as clearly as though he were standing behind her now, sensing her hesitation as an adult as readily as he had sensed her childish fear then.

Aelin shook her head, trying to clear the sound from her mind; he was gone now as well, just as her parents were. Aedion had called and written to her two years ago to confirm it, but she had only just started a new job at the time and had chosen to stay in Rifthold pursuing a career she had thought would mean everything. It had turned out that that job meant nothing in the end, but she couldn’t have known that at the time no matter how many times she laid awake at night wondering what had become of all of her dreams.

There was a lot she couldn’t have known then, she supposed.

Something cold and wet hit the back of her head and she gasped, whirling around to see Lysandra scooping more snow from the ground, mischief sparkling bright in her friend’s green eyes. “You’re thinking too hard!” she called, hands cupped together around a small mound of snow to compact it.

“Lysandra,” she tried, “that’s really not—”

The next ball of snow sprayed across her chest, flakes dusting her chin and cheeks as it exploded on impact. Lysandra doubled over, bracing her hands on her knees as she laughed. “Gods, but you should see your face!” she gasped between bouts of mirth.

Oh, it was on. Aelin carefully set her bag down beside her, slowly gathering her own mound of snow. “You have one chance to surrender,” she called back to her friend.

“Why would I do that? We came here to give you a break, Aelin, and I intend to deliver!”

Rather than throw the perfectly-shaped orb she now held in her hands, she set it beside her bag and began to form a second. “You would do that because you know how much I hate to lose,” she pointed out, “and you should know exactly what that’s going to mean for you. Last chance. Surrender.”

“Never!” her friend cried, and then it was on.

Within just a few short minutes both of their wool coats were completely soaked through, though they were still occasionally tossing snow at each other between fits of laughter and bouts of shivering. “Give up, and we can go get warm!” Aelin shouted.

“N-no!” Lysandra gasped. Time to play dirty, then.

Scooping a mound of snow in her left hand where her friend couldn’t see it, Aelin walked up to her…

And dumped the entire handful of snow down the back of her neck.

Lysandra shrieked, fingers clawing at the snow as it melted down her back. “You—”

“I win,” she interjected. “Say what you want, but we both know it.”

Without waiting for Lysandra to respond, she turned and lifted her bag again. This time, she didn’t hesitate as she walked down the lane to the house that stood at the end.

It hadn’t changed one bit from what she remembered, the tree where she’d first learned to climb still standing tall and proud in the center of a snowy yard. A sad-looking wreath was affixed to the door, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile at her cousin’s sorry effort at holiday cheer. If she had to guess, that was definitely a last-minute addition when she’d finally called him back and said she would come after all. She would have to find something lying around to fix it; she wasn’t sure how much of her old crafting supplies he’d kept, but she’d find something. She’d make do if she had to.

She was perhaps three doors away from the house that was her destination when her foot slipped on a patch of particularly slick snow—or perhaps it was already ice, it was hard to tell. With a gasp, she fell forward, and the air left her lungs as she fell on top of her bag. Well, maybe she’d looked like she’d been bracing herself on it for balance. With all the confidence she could muster, she picked herself up and took a single step forward into a firm obstacle that hadn’t been there earlier. Frowning, she glanced up, only to freeze when a pair of green eyes she’d long thought forgotten transported her back in time.

~*~*~

Aelin had just turned fourteen about a month before a new boy moved into the neighborhood, and the commotion was enough that she missed the baseball Aedion had just tossed her way. “Hey, do you have any idea who that is?” she asked him. “He looks like he’s maybe your age, you seen him around before?”

Aedion frowned thoughtfully. “No. He’s going into Maeve’s house. Didn’t think she had any relatives.”

“Oh. Well, maybe we’ll see him around at school? You probably more than me.” Not just because he was a boy, either; at sixteen, Aedion appeared to be closer in age to this newcomer than she was herself, unless she’d guessed terribly wrong. It was hard to guess, though, with his messy hair so light it almost looked silver in the morning sun.

“Maybe. Now are you going to throw that or what?”

Aelin laughed at the impatience of her cousin and obediently tossed the baseball in his direction for him to catch. “What do you think the story is?” she asked. “That’s way too much stuff for just a short visit. Do you think he’s…”

“Do I think he’s what?”

“Like me,” she said quietly. Alone, though she knew she couldn’t say as much to Aedion. She bit back a sigh. Really, she loved Aedion and Uncle Gavriel, and it had been so kind of them to take her in after her parents died, but sometimes…

She was better off not thinking about that right now. Maybe later, when she was alone with her journal and her playlists and her thoughts.

“Maybe,” Aedion replied. He tossed the ball back in her direction, and she caught it and threw it back. It went high, higher than her cousin could catch, and he swore and chased after it. While he was distracted, she took a moment to study the new boy. He was tall, probably even taller than Aedion, and that silvery hair that had caught her eye when she’d first noticed him was offset by lightly tanned skin that suggested he was coming from somewhere where the sun shone brighter and hotter.

He turned, then, and she was immediately drawn in by pine-green eyes before Aedion shoved her shoulder and broke their eye contact. “Hey, leave him be,” he was saying. “I know damn well you know it’s rude to stare.”

“Yeah,” Aelin muttered as he led her back toward the front door. When she turned her head to glance in the strange new boy’s direction again, he was gone.

~*~*~

“R-Rowan?” she stammered. “I thought you’d moved back to Doranelle years ago.” Not terribly long before she’d moved to Rifthold, in fact.

“I did,” he replied in that smooth rolling accent that had so captivated her from the moment they’d first spoken. “And then I moved back here, three years ago.”

“Oh. I see.” Gods, what was there to say after all these years? They’d barely spoken since high school, and had stopped exchanging even the most perfunctory of messages not long after. “How’s, um. Are you still with…?”

“Lyria? No,” he replied. “She… she’s gone. Passed not long before I left Doranelle.”

Oh. Well, shit. As much as she’d unreasonably disliked his girlfriend—his wife? She couldn’t remember now if they’d actually gotten married or not—she hadn’t intended to tread on what was obviously still a bad memory. “I’m sorry,” she managed.

He only shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “Aedion mentioned you stayed in Rifthold, after college. Haven’t come back since you graduated, right? Just like you said you would do.”

She shook her head, still stunned. “I haven’t. But Aedion convinced me to come back for Yulemas, so… here I am, I guess.”

“Here you are, indeed.” Though he still didn’t smile, there was the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I suppose it’ll get a little crowded around Aedion’s table for Yulemas dinner, then.”

Aelin blinked. “You celebrate with him?”

“Most years, yes. It keeps him from being alone, especially now that he and that guy of his have broken it off, and it keeps me… well, at least somewhat sane.”

She supposed that made some amount of sense, given his situation. If she’d expected to not have to spend the holidays alone ever again, and then was suddenly alone once more… well, that’s exactly why she was here now. What a mess.

A throat cleared behind her. “Aelin, you know this guy? Is everyone you know from here this hot?”

Aelin choked, and Rowan finally laughed. She couldn’t even be mad that it was absolutely at her expense, not when it had been so long since she’d heard the sound. “I’ve already answered that,” she replied. “Sorry. Rowan, this is Lysandra. We went to college together. Lysandra, um, this is Rowan. We—” Gods, what could she even say about him?

Thankfully, he stepped forward to fill her sudden silence—a far cry from the awkward teenager she’d once known. “I moved here in high school. We met then.”

“Well, I’m glad I got to meet you before we both awkwardly showed up to her cousin’s Yulemas dinner,” Lysandra smiled, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief at her friend’s easygoing charm. Lysandra made friends so easily wherever she went; she swore it was her skills at reading a room rather than any innate warmth, but Aelin knew better.

Rowan laughed, the sound awkward and stilted, and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

High School Aelin would’ve immediately asked him what was wrong. She would’ve pressed and pressed and not taken no for an answer until this man that had once been her friend had given in and told her everything on his mind. High School Aelin had been so much more confident, though. She hadn’t let what happened to her break her, hadn’t lost faith in all the world had to offer.

Gods, she was getting maudlin and she hadn’t even gotten into the house yet. Maybe coming here had been a mistake, after all.

Finally, she spoke. “Well, um, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon, then.”

“Yeah—shit, hang on,” he interjected as he turned. “Callie, get away from the road.”

Aelin frowned. Callie? Who on earth—

A high-pitched tinkling laugh sounded in reply, and Rowan started jogging away. “Calista Rose Whitethorn, I shouldn’t have to tell you why that’s a bad idea!”

Lysandra shot her a questioning glance, and she only shrugged. Had Rowan found someone else, after Lyria? It was possible, she guessed, though she’d never met anyone around here by that name and people only rarely relocated to Orynth of all places. Maybe it was someone he’d met in Doranelle and brought here?

A little girl, perhaps four or five, ran toward him and tumbled into the snow that had reached her waist by this point. When she righted herself, shrieking with laughter, Aelin noticed her dirty blonde hair that had been clumsily braided back and her hazel eyes. What truly struck her, though, was the angular jaw and determined jut of her chin that was all Rowan.

She was still frozen in place as Rowan hefted the girl into his arms, scolding her for having run into the street with the air of someone who’d given the same lecture a hundred times before and didn’t expect the lesson to stick this time either.

Aelin should have been used to the sensation of the world crashing down around her by now. She had experienced it more times than anyone should be able to count, after all. The feeling never changed, either, from the time she first felt it when she was told her parents wouldn’t be coming home ever again all the way up until her most recent boyfriend had left her to move in with another girl just two weeks later.

The feeling may have never changed, but Aelin never stopped being surprised by it. This was proving to be no exception as Rowan returned to them, the little girl balanced on his hip and his gait adjusting smoothly to the additional weight. “Sorry,” he said as they approached and the little girl buried her face in his coat. “We’re in the phase where listening to grownups is lame and boring, it would seem.”

“I can’t say I blame her,” Aelin managed, hoping it sounded flippant and not as awkward as it felt. “I make a point of listening to as few adults as possible.” She couldn’t bring herself to ask. She wouldn’t.

Though she hadn’t asked, it appeared he was going to tell her anyway. “Aelin, the last thing I need is you encouraging my daughter.”

~*~*~

Though Aelin had done a good job forgetting about the new boy until school started, once they learned their lockers were near each other she had begun a campaign to befriend him. It had taken several weeks to penetrate an aloof shell to reveal a shy and painfully awkward boy who was just as alone as she was, and now she was glad to call him a friend. The fact that he was maybe her only friend except for Aedion only had a little bit to do with it.

Though the status of their relationship had firmly changed from “neighbors” to “friends”, Aelin had recently found herself wondering what it might be like to be more. She’d known, of course, that one day she’d start feeling these kinds of feelings for someone. Uncle Gavriel had been so thorough with “the talk” that she had wanted to shrivel up and die on the spot, but the lessons had stuck.

She had never expected that this boy would be the one that would captivate her so.

At first she had tried to ignore it. After all, he was two whole years older than her, and she was sure she was just some dumb fourteen-year-old kid to him for all they were friends. Besides, Uncle Gavriel had said these kinds of feelings didn’t usually last in high school. She just had to wait it out, and hope she didn’t die of embarrassment if he ever caught her staring at him.

Only it wasn’t going away, and she found herself wasting away entire hours daydreaming about his stupidly perfect hair and his stupidly perfect eyes. Maybe the best way out was to get it out of her system. The only downside to that option was that she would have to actually tell him, and the very idea of that was mortifying.

She was going to do it, though. That afternoon, she’d watched him walk down the hall and she’d just known somehow that this was her day. She just had to wait for the right moment.

The right moment, she knew, would come right at the end of the day when they were both at their lockers—her preparing for the walk home, him stowing his things away to get ready for practice. If he shot her down, she would have plenty of time away from school to lick her wounds in peace.

She watched as he approached, and was prepared to call his name in greeting when his gaze slid past her, eyes widening and jaw dropping slightly.

Gods, but that was how she wished he would look at her sometimes. Should she look too? She was sure it would kill her, but would it be worse not to know? It would have to be worse not to know, right?

She turned and glanced behind herself, and immediately she saw what—or who, rather—had captured his attention.

She couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but she’d seen her around before. She was one of the cheerleaders, chestnut brown curls pulled back in a high ponytail and brown eyes warm as she laughed with one of her friends.

Rowan must have finally reached her, and he quietly asked, “Who’s that? Do you know her?”

“No,” Aelin forced out before walking away like her entire world wasn’t ending.

~*~*~

Aelin wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to break away from Rowan—and his daughter, her mind supplied—and make it into Aedion’s house. Ever since he’d introduced her, her mind had been in a daze. Thankfully, she recalled that Lysandra had done most of the talking; hopefully she’d supplied some kind of excuse for her stupid friend who was in the process of having her world rocked yet again.

But they made it inside and hung their damp coats up to dry, and soon Aedion was guiding them toward the two guest rooms he’d set up for them. Lysandra slipped into hers immediately, citing exhaustion from the trip in a way that meant Aelin absolutely knew she was lying. Aelin, however, followed her cousin back out into the main living space.

“I’m glad you finally managed to make it back,” Aedion said before she could ask the questions that had been burning in her mind.

Aelin bristled at the implicit accusation. “I’ve been busy,” she snapped.

“Gods, Aelin, I’m not upset, okay?” He wrapped her up in a hug that had once been so familiar, and she couldn’t help but relax slightly at the memory. “I really am glad. I know you’ve been busy, and I’ve never blamed you for doing what you needed to do.”

Aelin bit her lip as he spoke the words she’d both longed for and feared. Before she could stop herself, she was confessing one of her darkest secrets to the only person she thought had a chance of understanding her. “What if I blame me?”

As soon as the words rushed out of her, she realized just how true they were. Gods, she was such a mess now in comparison to the girl she had been. She’d left all of this behind, all of her family and the place she’d been raised, and for what? A job she hated in a city she despised, where she’d be working every day with a guy who couldn’t even do her the decency of pretending he hadn’t left her for another coworker? I can’t go back, she’d told herself every day. She’d told herself it was because she was living for the future, but it was becoming evident why she’d actually done it.

If she stayed here for too long, she wouldn’t want to go back to her job and her city and her life.

As nice as it would be, and as willing as Aedion seemed to be to help her with such a transition, she couldn’t come back. Especially not now.

Aedion was talking again, and she struggled to give him her attention. “—blame you, then that’s a different story. I can’t stop you from blaming yourself. But I have a feeling you don’t actually want to have that conversation right now.”

That part was true, at least. “You didn’t mention it wouldn’t be just the three of us on Yulemas,” she said quietly.

He stiffened. “Would you have come if I had?”

“Yes.” Aelin scowled and thought about it more. “No. I don’t know.”

Aedion chuckled. “So decisive. That’s why I didn’t bring it up. You were going through enough when you called as it was.”

“You could’ve at least warned me he was back. Or that he has a kid. Gods, I looked like such an idiot.”

When she looked up at her cousin he was grinning. “So, maybe not as over him as you thought?”

“Aedion!” she shouted, angry and humiliated at his casual mention of her stupid childhood crush. “Of course I am, I was just… surprised. I thought he was still in Doranelle with his…” she vaguely waved her hand in the air, realizing that she still wasn’t sure exactly what Lyria had been to Rowan in the end.

“You really did break off contact with everyone, didn’t you?” he asked, voice soft and eyes softer.

“You were the only one I spoke with at all,” she confessed. “There is—was—is nothing left for me here.”

He frowned. “You know that’s not true.”

“It is true, cousin. It has to be.” And even if it wasn’t true, it wasn’t as if she could simply change everything now.

Aedion sighed. “Well. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me, right?”

She tugged him into a hug before grabbing her coat. “I do.”

“Where are you going? It’ll be dark soon,” he cautioned.

“I know. I’ll be back soon.” Before he could say anything else, she slipped out of the front door, feet leading her to a particular destination.

The little park across the neighborhood stood empty just as it always had, a remnant from when more children had lived here. It had proved a godsend when Aelin entered her teenage years; every time living as the only girl in a house full of boys had gotten to be too much, she had slipped away to this little spot. She had done homework on the little picnic table that was somehow still standing, she had danced and run and laughed in the little field, but mostly she had sat in the grass—or the snow—and watched the little pond.

It was too small to be a good skating pond, even in the coldest part of winter. But there was something so peaceful about this little spot anyway that Aelin had never minded. Besides, if it had been better for skating there might have been more demand on the little area, and she didn’t like to share.

Rowan knew where it was, of course; he had once known almost everything there was to know about her. She wondered if he still came here every now and again, if he brought his daughter to see the pond and feed whatever fish still lived in it.

If he had, there was no sign of it now. The morning’s snow had blanketed everything, wiping away every trace that may have lingered. Now it was a place where she could be alone with her thoughts, and try to come to terms with everything that had been revealed in such a short time.

~*~*~

“Wait, so you’re not going to ask her to the homecoming dance? Why not?” Aelin could hardly believe her ears. After the past three days of hearing nothing but talk of that pretty brunette girl from the hall, maybe he’d finally gotten it all out of his system and they could go back to normal.

“Are you kidding, Aelin? I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He sighed, troubled green eyes staring out over the pond.

Aelin carefully schooled her face into a frown, though her stupid heart was leaping for joy. “Why not?”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t even be able to say hi. I suck at talking to girls.”

“I’m a girl,” she pointed out irritably.

“Yeah, but you’re different,” Rowan argued. “You’re not…”

“What?” Aelin demanded. “What, exactly, am I not that she apparently is?” Gods, just a week ago she would’ve longed to hear him saying she was different, but now… Now it was hitting differently, and she didn’t like it at all.

Finally realizing her sudden annoyance, Rowan began to mumble. “You know.”

“No, I don’t,” she said, tone sickeningly sweet to her own ears. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Gods, Aelin, you don’t have to be such a—”

No. No matter what his next word was going to be, she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not from him. Never from him. “If you’re going to yell at me, get out of my spot,” she snapped. “I was here first.”

He frowned, but something in her expression must have convinced him that this wasn’t a fight worth having right now because rather than snap back he sighed. “See, this is what I mean. I’d only mess it up. You’re already stuck with me.”

If only he knew how true that was. “I guess.”

“Hey,” he said, turning fully so his whole body was facing her rather than just his face. “It’s like you said yourself, we orphans need to stick together.”

She couldn��t even be nearly as mad as she should be at him throwing her own words back in her face. Gods, how pathetic. Finally, she asked, “So, if you’re not going to ask her to the dance, what are you doing instead?”

“What, me? I wasn’t going to go in the first place.” That sounded more like the Rowan she knew, avoiding large events and crowds as much as possible. The boy she had come to befriend tended to stay on the outskirts of any group, quietly observing rather than her own tendency to jump right in.

“But what were you going to do?” she pressed on.

He smiled, though there was something almost wistful about it that made her heart melt all over again. “Assuming you’ll allow it and I’m not actually kicked out, I was going to come here. Enjoy the peace and quiet. Maybe with my only friend, if she’s not going to be the life of the party out there.”

Aelin smiled. “Maybe she’d rather spend time with her only friend than go out, anyway.”

~*~*~

Aelin shook her head as though the motion would dislodge the memory. She had already stayed longer than she’d intended, and the sun had long since set. It was past time that she leave.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and when she checked it she had received a message from Lysandra. OMG, her friend had typed.

She smiled and replied. ????

You didn’t ever tell me your cousin was HOT. Where are you, anyway?

Her smile immediately turned into a scowl. Ew, Lys. That’s my COUSIN, I definitely don’t think he’s hot. He looks like me.

Yeah, maybe, if you were a hunky guy with shoulder muscles for DAYS.

Let’s skip the poetry about Aedion’s muscles, please. I’d like to sleep sometime tonight.

Just tell me if he’s single and we’re good.

I think so, when he invited me he said he’d just broken up with his boyfriend.

Boyfriend????

Aelin grinned. Problem?

Of course not! But does he only go for guys, or…?

Why don’t you ask him?

OMG Aelin you can’t just ask a guy if he’s gay. She could just imagine the scandalized look on Lysandra’s face, and she laughed before replying again.

I mean, I have.

And that’s why I’m the social one and not you.

Ugh, fine. He’s bi.

YESSSSS.

A noise attracted Aelin’s attention then, and she slipped her phone back into her pocket without replying so she could pay closer attention.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” a little girl asked, in a tone that made it obvious she was trying to be quiet but had absolutely no concept of how a whisper could actually be louder than speech when said the wrong way.

She couldn’t quite stop herself from shivering at the accented baritone of Rowan’s reply, though if asked she would immediately blame the cold weather. “That’s Aelin, sweetheart. We met her earlier, remember?”

“Oh. She looks sad.”

Rowan sighed. “Baby girl,” he started to reply, but the child—Callie, her name was Callie—was already darting over to her, a string of faerie lights dragged along in her wake.

Finally, her tiny little legs took her to the bench where Aelin was sitting, and hazel eyes were peering up at her seriously. Aelin blinked. “Um, hi. Callie, right?”

The girl grinned and nodded. “And your name is A… Ae…” Her little face screwed up as she struggled with Aelin’s name, likely due to the tooth that was missing from her smile.

Despite herself, Aelin found herself smiling back. “My name is Aelin, but you can say A if that’s too hard right now.”

Callie’s attention had already gone elsewhere, and with all the energy the gods had seen to give small children she was now attempting to detangle the string of lights she’d dragged through the snow. She seemed to only be making the snarl worse, but the look of determination on her face was so very Rowan that Aelin couldn’t bring herself to interfere. “Daddy said we can put lights up,” she explained.

Rowan finally caught up then, breathless as he tugged the girl into himself. “Calista Rose, what have we said about running off and introducing ourselves to strangers?” he asked, before turning his gaze on Aelin. “Gods, Aelin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for us to—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted, surprised to find that it was the truth. Maybe she’d finally gone crazy, but dealing with Rowan’s daughter sounded far preferable to listening to Lysandra drool over Aedion.

“Yeah, Daddy!” Callie exclaimed, and Aelin laughed at the sight of her lecturing her own father, hands on her little hips. “And she’s not a stranger, you said she’s your friend,” she accused.

Panicked green eyes met hers then, and Rowan grimaced, clearly trying to decide how best to answer. Surprising herself yet again, Aelin spared him from his struggle. “We became friends a looooong time ago,” she whispered conspiratorially. “He might’ve forgotten. Y’know, cause he’s so old.”

She met Rowan’s glare with a wink as Callie considered this information, hand on her chin in a gesture of deep thought. “He is old,” she allowed finally. “Really old.”

“Gee, thanks,” Rowan grumbled. “Anyhow, we can leave if—”

Callie interrupted with a whine. “But Daaaaaad, you promised!”

“Well,” Aelin replied as she pretended to consider the dilemma. “I can’t have you breaking promises to your own daughter. That sounds awful. I guess we’ll just have to help her put lights up.”

Rowan finally smiled as Callie cheered, promptly making an even bigger mess of her little string of lights. “Thank you,” he said softly before turning to help the little girl detangle the lights.

Once the job was done, Aelin carefully took one end of the lights. “So, where are we putting these?”

Callie immediately pointed at the table, dragging the lights over and starting to wrap them around one of the legs of the table in a way that could only make sense to a child her age. Aelin carefully dropped the other end of the lights and let the girl work, taking a few steps back to talk quietly to Rowan.

“Why’d you come back?” he finally asked, quietly.

She sighed. “I had to get away, at least for a little while. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, after…”

After she’d realized her job at Havilliard Industries had stolen her soul, chewed it up, and spat it out. After Chaol had left her for Nesryn. There was no way she’d be able to put those into words, though, so instead she finished with, “I just needed a break, I guess.”

“I guess I can understand that,” he replied slowly. “We moved here after Lyria died. There was nothing left for Callie in Doranelle, and I needed to find a place where I would have the time to take care of her. Orynth… it fit.”

“So, what do you do now?” she asked.

“You’ll laugh.”

“I promise I won’t. Here, I’ll go first. I got a marketing job, of all things. Not what I thought I’d be doing in the big city, for sure.”

“I run the local flower shop,” he finally admitted. “Not what I thought I’d be doing when I got out of the service.”

That was right; she vaguely recalled he had enlisted in Wendlyn’s military for a while. “Maybe not, but… it fits, right? It’s what you needed.”

He nodded before turning his gaze back to the child that was now running around the table to pick up the other end of the string of lights. “It is.”

“How is she going to light those?” she asked, curious. “There’s no power anywhere nearby.”

Rowan grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I gave her a string of battery-powered lights, isn’t it?”

Aelin laughed. “I guess so. How old is she, anyway?”

“Almost five. She’ll be in school this time next year.” A strange mix of pride and terror crossed his face then.

Before Aelin could ask him about it, Callie burst into a fit of triumphant laughter and turned the lights on, illuminating the area around the table with the soft glow of faerie lights. “Pretty!” she cried.

“It is!” Aelin called, before speaking again to Rowan more quietly. “Really takes you back, doesn’t it? Decorating this old place.”

“We do it every year,” he admitted quietly. “Ever since we moved back.”

And just like that, Aelin’s whole world changed again.

~*~*~

“Come on!” she shouted as she dragged Rowan along behind her, a thrill in her chest from the sensation of her own hand wrapped around his wrist. “Hurry up!”

“Where are we going?” he demanded.

“To the park, come on! It’s Yulemas, you’ve got to see this!”

They finally reached the table by the pond, and he crossed his arms across his chest as she finally dropped his hand. “Thanks, Aelin. It looks exactly like it did yesterday.”

“Ugh! Boys.” Aelin shook her head before digging in the bag she’d brought with her and finding the little candles she’d tucked into it.

“What?”

“It’s not about what it is now,” she insisted. “It’s about what it can be. This is maybe the prettiest place in all of Orynth. Even prettier than Main Street.”

“Given how excited you were to drag me to each and every storefront to appreciate the lights from different angles, you’ll have to forgive me for doubting that you actually like this better.”

“Please, it’s not like you were doing anything better that weekend.” It was true; Rowan had never worked up the nerve to talk to that cheerleader girl after all, and their friendship had mostly recovered from that fight they’d had here two months before. “Now help me out,” she demanded.

“What are we even doing?”

“Making a place for these candles.” Carefully, with his help, they leveled off the snow that had gathered on top of the picnic table, and she placed the little tealight candles around the table with a few sprigs of holly.

“Is this even safe?” he asked, though he kept helping anyway, obediently placing candles where she pointed.

“Of course it’s safe! These blow themselves out before they would hurt anything, and it’s not like we’re going to just leave them.” Aelin dug in her bag for the lighter she’d snuck out of Uncle Gavriel’s kitchen, grinning as Rowan’s eyes went wide with nerves.

“Wait, you’re seriously going to light them? Where did you even get that?”

“From Uncle Gavriel. Please, like you’ve never borrowed anything from Aunt Maeve.”

“I’m pretty sure Aunt Maeve would kill me if I took something like that,” he replied seriously. “Look, if we’re actually going to do this, maybe I should…”

“Nope! This is the best part!” Aelin carefully went around the table, lighting each and every candle they’d set out. “Okay. Now sit down and just look at it.”

Rowan obeyed, though he still looked skeptical. “It looks like candles on a table.”

“If you look at them just right, it’s like they’re glimmering out on the ice,” she replied as she joined him. “Do you see it yet?”

From her place beside him, she could tell the moment he finally let himself take in the whole scene. “I guess it’s nice,” he allowed.

“Ugh, you don’t have to be such a boy about it. It’s okay to like things, you know.”

“I know.”

And they sat in silence after that, watching candlelight flicker on the snowy picnic table until each tiny candle blinked back into darkness.

~*~*~

Despite everything that being back in Orynth was stirring up, Aelin woke up the next morning with a smile. As complicated as this place was for her, something about the way the morning sun hit the soft snow blanketing the yard never failed to bring her at least a few moments of peace.

It only rarely snowed in Rifthold, and never to the extent that it regularly did here. Aelin hadn’t seen a setting like the one that was waiting outside her window in years now, and she found she missed it. Of all the complications that Orynth meant to her, this had never been one of them.

Perhaps she’d be able to convince Lysandra to play in the snow later.

Quickly, she got dressed in the layers that living in Orynth required, leggings under her jeans and a sweater over a long sleeved shirt, before slipping down the hall in sock-clad feet. Both of the other bedrooms were completely silent, but she heard noises from the kitchen, so she went to investigate.

It was for the best, really. She was a terrible cook, and if Aedion was awake she could probably con him into making eggs and bacon before her day of frolicking in the snow. She turned the corner into the kitchen…

And froze in the entryway.

Aedion was at the counter next to the stove, wearing his typical morning outfit of plaid pajama pants and a worn shirt. That in itself wasn’t nearly enough to give her pause. But the leg thrown over his hip and the husky laugh of his companion absolutely was. Damn, but Lysandra moved fast. Had she even slept the night in her own guest bed?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know either. It was time to make a quick escape.

Her boots were still beside the door from where she had kicked them off after returning from her unexpected evening with both Rowan and his child. It was the work of a few short minutes to tug them back onto her feet and slip out of the front door, tugging on her coat and winding a scarf around her neck.

High-pitched laughter met her once she had closed the door, and a glance down the lane revealed little Callie having stumbled into a snowbank, large flakes sticking to the twin braids that contained her dirty blonde hair this morning. Rowan wasn’t far behind her, and he was doing his best to hide the grin on his face as he offered to help her free of the snow.

The little girl pulled herself free, only to immediately fall back onto her rear on the sidewalk. The motion had spun her around until she was facing where Aelin stood, and as soon as she saw her she was up again, running toward her and screaming, “Miss A! Miss A!”

Aelin laughed at the child’s enthusiasm, warmed by it in spite of herself. “What are you up to today?”

Callie pointed back at the yard from which she’d run. “Snowman!”

Sure enough, there was a sad little mound of snow standing in the center of the yard. “Are you doing it yourself, or is your dad helping?”

“I’m doing it,” she declared proudly. “I’m not done yet.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you from finishing it,” Aelin said, tweaking one of the girl’s braids.

“Watch me!” she shouted as she ran back toward her own yard and her father.

Well, it was definitely a better idea for her morning than being a third wheel for her friend and her cousin. Mind made up, she marched down the lane behind Callie, much to Rowan’s evident surprise.

“Surely you have better things to do than let my daughter drag you around for your entire vacation,” he said quietly once she reached him.

Aelin shrugged. “My friend and my cousin are probably getting it on in the kitchen. I had to get away.”

“Fair enough.” He grimaced. “I can’t say I’d want to stay for that either.”

And as they watched, Callie determinedly dragged handful after handful of snow to her little mound. “She… does know about rolling a snowball around to make it bigger, right?” Aelin asked.

“Shh. If she does it this way she might actually take her nap today.” Rowan was fighting a grin as he said it. “And if she actually naps, I might be able to finish wrapping presents.”

“Ah.” Not to mention, it was kind of adorable to watch her struggle so much.

Finally, the mound had reached a height Callie seemed to deem acceptable, and she had sculpted it into three rough sections. She darted back to the front porch where a handful of supplies were waiting, tossing a scarf around the snowman’s neck before crying in dismay as the carrot nose flew across the yard and into a deep snowbank.

Aelin took a deep breath and looked at Rowan, expression solemn. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” she said.

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Dive headfirst into a snowbank, of course.” She was doing her best to keep a straight face, but she suspected she was failing miserably by this point.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said immediately, pine-green eyes wary. “In fact, you have a choice available to you that is specifically not doing that.”

“Nope,” she declared. “It’s too late. I’m doing it.”

There was still a small hole where the carrot had entered the snow. If she moved quickly enough this would be easy. “Stay back,” she warned daughter and father alike as she took a few steps back to give herself a running start.

Then she launched herself into the snow with a shout.

~*~*~

Aelin shrieked with laughter as she tumbled off of the sled and into a deep snowbank, giggling as she heard a concerned shout from the top of the hill. Trust Rowan to be a complete worrywart. She was fine; she was better than fine, even. She was high on the thrill of the sled ride and the snow and this time spent with him. In moments like these, she was positive that nothing could bring her down.

A hand dug into the snow beside her, clearly trying to help her up, but instead she took it and tugged Rowan down into the snow beside her, laughing even harder. “Gods, Rowan, your face!”

“Why do you have to be like this?” he demanded. “You terrified me, you know that? I was so afraid that you’d hit your head and I’d have to explain this to your uncle. Or worse, explain it to my aunt.”

“I’m fine!” she assured him.

He ran his hands over her head anyway, clearly checking for any kind of head injury, and she couldn’t hide the shiver from the feel of his hands on her. “Gods, Aelin, you’re freezing! We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, though even to her own ears the words sounded less certain. Maybe she’d hit her head after all, and this was an elaborate fantasy her dizzy and delirious mind had concocted. Or maybe he was going to keep touching her and she’d combust on the spot.

“Come on, Aelin, please,” he pleaded. Gods, he had to know she would do anything for him if he asked her like that. He had to know, and was obviously using it against her right now. There was no other explanation, unless this was all some kind of crazy dream.

She had to try. She had to know.

She reached out a trembling hand toward his face, half-buried in the snow beside her own. Would he let her do this if it wasn’t a dream? What if he did let her touch him? What would happen next?

But it turned out that he didn’t let her after all, instead taking advantage of her outstretched hand to tug her free of the pile of snow. She swayed, dizzy from the sudden change from lying in the snow to standing on her feet, and stumbled into him.

He brushed the remaining snow off her shoulders, glancing at her hair before obviously deciding that was a lost cause. “I think your hat’s still in the snow,” he said quietly. “How mad’s your uncle going to be if you lose it?”

“I can get it,” she protested, but he reached into the snow instead, letting out a soft noise of triumph when he found it. Carefully, he brushed the loose snow off of it and tugged it back onto her head.

“There,” he said. “Good as new, like nothing even happened.”

As they walked back to Uncle Gavriel’s house, those words echoed in her mind over and over. Nothing even happened. Nothing even happened. Nothing even happened.

~*~*~

Aelin jerked herself out of the memory and held the carrot aloft with a triumphant shout. “Got it!”

When she emerged from the snow, it was to the gleeful cheering of a four-year-old and a bemused smile from said four-year-old’s father. “Thanks, Miss A!” Callie shouted, bounding over to take the carrot back from her.

“Miss A?” she asked quietly as Rowan made his way over to them.

Rowan shrugged. “I didn’t tell her to call you that. That was all her.”

“Well, she’s certainly more polite than you ever were,” Aelin teased, watching as Callie carefully centered the carrot in the top part of her snow mound and pressed it in.

“Very funny,” he grumbled. “How long are you staying? I just realized I never asked.”

“I’m leaving the day after Yulemas.” Gods, but it felt awkward to say, throwing in his face that soon she would be walking right back out of their lives forever.

Rowan nodded. “Listen, usually on the night before I send Callie over to Aedion’s to spend the night, so I can finish setting everything up. Then we all come back to mine for Yulemas morning. I know you’re both staying in his spare bedrooms right now, but…”

“Yes?” She leaned closer as his voice got quieter.

“If you wanted to spend one night in my guest room instead, it would keep her routine uninterrupted. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

“I’ll do it,” she said. “It’s just one night, right? And that little girl needs the best Yulemas ever.”

Rowan chuckled, clearly relieved. “That’s a pretty high bar. She wore herself out inside an hour last year.”

“I’m sure we can manage it. Have you decorated yet? I can help—”

He cut her off with a gloved hand over her mouth, mirth shining bright in his eyes. “I’ve already decorated, yes, but I’m positive it’s not yet to your satisfaction. If you want to do more while you’re over, I won’t stop you.”

Heat slammed into Aelin’s face at his words, and she fought to keep the blush off of her face. She supposed she could just blame the cold if she failed, though. As she pulled his hand away from her face, she forced a smile. “It’s settled, then. I’ll go into town today and make sure I’ve got everything I need.” Gods, what was she doing? She needed to take it back, needed to apologize and say she couldn’t do it after all, not dig herself deeper into the hole.

“Thank you,” he said, and she was lost just as readily as she had been as a teenager. Fuck, but she was in trouble.

“Speaking of, actually, I should probably get going.” She glanced back at Aedion’s house. “They’re probably still going at it, and I haven’t eaten. I figured I’d stop by that little café on the corner of Main Street.”

“We can go with you, if you want,” he offered, but she was already shaking her head.

“I appreciate it,” she said, and she meant it. “But she should be able to finish her work here, and if I go alone I can find a few surprises to decorate with.”

He nodded, and she left as quickly as was polite. Once she had turned the corner at the other end of the lane, she pulled her phone out and sent a message to Lysandra.

SOS. Let me know when you’re done banging my cousin, I need girl talk.

She had just reached the little café and seated herself at a small table when her phone buzzed with Lysandra’s reply.

OMG I’m so sorry I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.

Aelin smiled despite herself. I’ll forgive you if you help me now.

This wouldn’t have anything to do with that cute guy we ran into our first day, would it?

LYS. But yes.

What’s stopping you? We’re here for a week and a half, you might as well enjoy it. Was that… Yes, that was an emoji waggling its eyebrows. What the hell, Lysandra.

He has a child, Lys. That complicates it, doesn’t it?

Not if you don’t want it to. I’m not saying you need to elope with the guy, just jump him and get it over with.

You mean like you did?

Harsh. But seriously, it’s Yulemas. Maybe it’ll all work out.

Lysandra, this is not one of your silly Yulemas movies where a girl goes back to her hometown and some muscled guy in plaid teaches her the meaning of the season with his magical healing dick.

Why not? I don’t see anything stopping you but you.

Aelin sighed, giving up on the conversation for a moment as she ordered eggs and coffee. Before long, though, she was back on her phone.

One more thing. What the hell do four year olds like for Yulemas?

Girl you are GONE on this guy, aren’t you? Where are you? I’ll meet you and we can shop together.

That was probably the least painful way this could go, though she was sure to be embarrassed beyond belief by the end of the day. Gods, and she would have to explain their entire history to her friend.

She hadn’t talked about Rowan when she went off to college. She’d left him behind the same as she had everyone else in Orynth. It had felt like the only way to move on, as much as it had hurt at the time and as awkward as it would be now to come clean.

That conversation was likely to happen anyway at this point, but she could at least make sure it was near neither Rowan nor Aedion. Mind made up, she texted Lysandra back with the address of the café and let the waitress know she would have a friend joining her.

As she waited, stirring sugar into her coffee cup, Aelin allowed her mind to wander as it had been so wont to do from the moment they set foot in Orynth.

~*~*~

“You’re never going to believe what happened today,” Rowan said as they began their walk home from school, winding their scarves tight against the early spring chill.

“Aedion finally asked out that boy in your English class,” she guessed.

“What? No. At least, I don’t think he did.”

“That’s a bummer,” she replied. “That means I’ll have to keep hearing Aedion talk about whether or not to do it. Um, Elide finally lost it on that guy in homeroom?” That was a longer shot by far; Elide was one of the sweetest girls Aelin knew, with the patience of a saint.

Rowan snorted. “He’d have it coming if she did. But no.”

Aelin frowned, brows furrowing in thought. “I guess I’m stuck,” she said as they turned a corner. “Fine, I give up. What is it?”

He smiled. “Okay, so we got assigned this group project in history class. You know, the usual thing, pick a topic from the list and do a presentation about it.”

“Okay, but that’s not exactly newsworthy. You guys get projects all the time,” she pointed out, bending down to pick a crocus from the side of the road. She probably shouldn’t be plucking flowers from the community gardens, but she just couldn’t stop herself from picking the first of the crocuses she saw in the spring. The flower itself was nothing special; she far preferred the kingsflame that bloomed later in the season. But it symbolized the turning of the seasons, and for that alone she appreciated it.

Sure enough, when she looked back at Rowan he was frowning. “Are you sure you’re allowed to do that?”

“No. So what happened with this project?” she asked, wanting his attention on the story and not on her tendency toward petty misdemeanors related to flowers.

His ears turned pink, and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Gods, she had thought they were past this. She had just begun to hope, to think she might possibly have the slightest chance with him. Now it looked like all of those hopes were about to be dashed.

Sure enough, his next words confirmed her worst fears. “It’s in partners, and Lyria got assigned as my partner. We’re going to be meeting about it after school tomorrow.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s good, right?” It wasn’t good, not at all, but Aelin had just been forcibly reminded of her place in his life. She was his friend, and friends encouraged each other, right? She could do this, even if it killed her.

“That’s very good. I know it’s just about the project, but maybe she’ll like me, you know?” He bit his lip, and judging from the color it was far from the first time that afternoon he’d done so.

“I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Aelin said honestly. “I mean, you’re… you’re you,” she finished, knowing as she said it just how lame the words sounded.

It seemed to be encouraging enough for Rowan, though, because he smiled at her. “Thanks, Aelin. You’re a good friend.”

And just like that, Aelin’s already-delicate heart shattered.

~*~*~

The rest of the week passed by in a snowy blur, and soon it was the night before Yulemas. She had just vacated the guest room she’d been staying in to allow for Callie to go through her Yulemas tradition of staying with Aedion, and her heart felt like it had lodged in her throat as she knocked on Rowan’s door.

Her breath caught right alongside her heart when he opened the door, wearing a shirt that looked almost impossibly soft with sleeves short enough to reveal the swirling marks of a dark tattoo along his left arm. “Um,” Aelin began. “Aedion’s getting Callie to wind down now. When did you get that?” With the hand that wasn’t holding her bags of decorations and of clothing, she gestured at the marks.

He let her in and closed the door behind her before answering. “After Lyria died,” he said quietly. “It’s in the Old Language of Wendlyn, and it tells both her story and my shame.”

“Shame?” Gods, Aelin shouldn’t be asking this of him. Their newly-rekindled friendship was on shaky enough ground as it was.

Rowan answered anyway. “After we married, but before we had Callie… we weren’t in a good place. I’d joined the military, which I know you know about, and she hated that I could be away for months at a time. We… fought. A lot. So I stayed away longer and longer, only coming back for short leaves here and there. Then we learned we were having a child, and… I couldn’t be there for the birth. She left then, but six months later she was involved in a car accident. I was due to re-enlist then, but I retired instead and took charge of Callie. We moved here not long after.”

“Gods, I’m so sorry,” Aelin replied. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“What about you?” he asked. “What have you been up to in Rifthold?”

This was it. This was what she hadn’t talked about with anyone here, with the exception of Lysandra. She sighed. “Honestly, right now I kind of hate it,” she said, hoping he would leave it at that.

Of course, for once he decided to press further. “What’s so bad about it?”

Just like that, the words began pouring out of her as though they were back in school and she was once more spilling her problems to her closest friend. “I hate my job,” she confessed. “I thought it would be fun and exciting, but… not to mention, my last boyfriend was also a coworker, and so is his new girlfriend, so I have to see them every godsdamned day and pretend like they just moved quickly when they moved in two weeks after he left me. But… I can’t just leave. That would be letting them all win.”

“And we all know how Aelin Galathynius feels about letting other people win.” Where once those words would’ve sounded angry, Rowan must have learned to better hide his feelings. Now the sentence was carefully devoid of emotion, letting her judge the words at face value rather than responding defensively to his tone.

“Maybe Aelin doesn’t know anymore,” she admitted. “But I didn’t come here to talk about all of this, I came here to help you decorate.”

He finally let it drop then, and she walked into their living area.

There was certainly room to place other decorations along the mantle and the stairs, but the Yulemas tree was absolutely stunning. Strings of soft white lights made the branches glow and the ornaments glimmer in shades of the traditional red and gold. On the lower branches, Callie must have helped to decorate, for the placement was haphazard and the ornaments were less fragile and more child-approved.

Rowan chuckled behind her, and she belatedly realized she was just staring at the tree like an idiot who wanted a life she couldn’t have. “The tree is perfect,” she finally managed.

“Really? Because I thought you were going to say the tree looks like it was decorated by a four-year-old and her helpless father. Which is true,” he said with a smile. “But it’s been working for us.”

“It’s perfect,” she declared. “I bet Callie loved helping.”

“That she did,” he laughed. “So, what did you bring with you?”

She grinned, tugging out strands of faerie lights and red ribbons and garlands made to look like pine. “I wondered for maybe five minutes if you’d have a mantle to put all this on, but this is Orynth. If you don’t have a fireplace, winter is suffering.”

“Some of us like the cold,” he replied.

“And some of us are wrong,” she retorted. “Now help me get the lights on this garland.”

About an hour later, more soft white lights were gleaming from the mantle and wrapped around the handrail of the staircase. They had placed a garland over the mantle, and more sprigs of pine and holly were scattered around the room in little wreaths and sprays. “There,” she said as she flopped on the couch. “Now it’s perfect.”

“It is.” He sat beside her, and she turned to see his eyes on her, pine green glimmering in the soft faerie lights.

Aelin glanced away and swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump that had suddenly caught in her throat. Gods, Teenaged Aelin had dreamed and pined for a moment like this, and now that it was within her reach she wasn’t sure what to do with it. It had been so long, so many years and so much distance standing between them, and yet some soft lighting and a softer look in his eyes had her melting as though no time at all had passed.

It had been over ten years since the moment Aelin had come to the decision to let Rowan go, but now she found herself wondering once more what it would be like to finally close the gap between them and let herself have what she’d always wanted.

~*~*~

“Where are you going to go?” Aelin asked from her perch on Rowan’s bed as he packed.

“After graduation, you mean?” He neatly folded some more shirts into a box. “I’m going back to Wendlyn. I can’t stay here forever, you know.”

“Oh.” Maybe she could figure out a way to get to Wendlyn too. He was graduating soon and would be leaving soon thereafter, but she only had two more years of school left herself. Maybe she could look at universities in Wendlyn, see if she could—

“I’m going to ask Lyria to come with me,” he said, and just like that the fragile dream shattered.

It had been so easy, in the two years they had been dating now, to pretend as though nothing had changed between Rowan and his cheerleader girlfriend. Rowan was always so careful to still make time for Aelin, even though it was less time than before, and the couple seemed to avoid public displays of affection for the most part. But Rowan was still in love with a girl who wasn’t Aelin, and no amount of pretending on her part would stop this from happening. There would be no Rowan-and-Aelin, taking on Wendlyn by storm. There would just be Aelin, left behind and left all alone forever as a pretty brunette with warm brown eyes took everything she had ever wanted for herself.

“Do you think she’ll go?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as tight as her throat felt.

“I hope so,” he sighed. “I know it’s a lot to ask, I won’t exactly be around for the first six months or so.”

“What? Why not?”

He turned to face her, pine-green eyes as serious as she had ever seen them. “I’m enlisting in Wendlyn’s military.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, right? If that’s what you want to do, I mean.”

“It is.” And it would be a good fit for him, too, this quiet and serious boy before her. “Lyria isn’t sure she likes it, but she said I should go for it if it’s what I really want.”

“She’s right, you know. You should. I mean, it’s your entire future, right? You’d just regret it if you let someone talk you out of it.”

He nodded slowly. “And I’m sure she’ll understand. It’s an adjustment right now, but after training we’ll be able to stay together if we’re married. I’ve been asking around.”

Gods. Not only was he asking her to move to be with him, he was thinking of proposing to Lyria. “That’s a big step, isn’t it?” she managed to say around the tightening in her throat.

“It is. I’m still thinking about it. But…” his voice trailed off as he picked up one of the pictures of her that decorated his desk.

But he was going to do it. He was going to marry his high school sweetheart. Aelin was sure she would say yes.

And now it was time for Aelin to let go of anything she’d hoped and dreamed would come to pass.

~*~*~

Aelin laid on top of Rowan beside the Yulemas tree, his fingers skimming over the bare skin over her spine, and wondered how on earth she’d gotten to be so lucky.

She didn’t know if it was the look in his eyes or the play of soft white light over his face, but she’d found herself leaning in toward him. Unbeknownst to her, he had been doing the same thing, and before she’d been able to stop and think their lips had met.

It had been absolute heaven. Rowan had kissed her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, soft and tender and dizzying, and before long she had thrown herself at him and slid her hands under that shirt that had turned out to be exactly as soft as it had looked. He had been surprised for a moment, but soon enough he had responded in kind and then they were on the floor beside the tree, her shirt tossed across the room somewhere and his own underneath her.

Aelin could have cried in bliss, the moment he’d pressed himself inside of her. The weight and size of him had been perfection beyond words, and all too soon she had been shuddering into a peak of sensation beneath him despite wishing the moment could have lasted forever.

His own peak had rushed along behind hers, but rather than get up he had simply rolled them so he was supporting her weight as they pressed together. Now he was tracing random patterns along bare skin, looking up at her as though he was seeing something he’d never imagined before. She supposed perhaps he was.

She languidly stretched above him, humming as the motion reawakened the pleasant ache between her thighs. He smiled in reply, his free hand finding its way into her hair, and she happily snuggled into his chest once more, reveling in the sensation.

She wasn’t sure how long they spent like that, cuddled together beside the tree, before her own voice broke the comfortable silence. “I got both of you Yulemas presents,” she revealed with a kiss to his shoulder that sent a thrill through her.

He blinked, rising up onto his elbows, and she rolled to the side to allow him to sit up. “You did?”

She nodded, and from the heat in her face she could tell she was blushing. “I did. I hope you like them, I’ve never really had to shop for a kid before—”

“No.”

Aelin froze where she sat. “What?”

When she looked over at him, his expression was hard, eyes that had been so warm just moments before like ice. “You heard me. No.”

“I don’t understand,” she confessed. What had she done wrong? They had been so happy just moments before.

“You can come back here and play pretend for a little while before you go right back to Rifthold and leave this all behind forever if you want,” he replied. “I certainly can’t stop you. You can even bring me into it. I obviously didn’t mind. But you do not get to play this little game with Callie.”

Gods, he was so angry, his words practically a growl. “I didn’t—”

“Think of it as a game?” He was up now, gathering the clothes they’d discarded and tossing her own shirt back at her. “Of course not. Why would you? It’s not your life you’re playing with. And it’s like I said, if it was just mine I wouldn’t even care. But that little girl has had enough loss. I’m not letting you walk into her life like this and then walk right back out and make her wonder what she’d done wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she slipped back into her shirt. Gods, what had she been thinking? He had every right to be upset, and she was misreading things like always. “I’ll just, um…”

She gestured at the guest room he’d had her set her bags in earlier, and he nodded shortly. She took a deep breath and tried one more time. “Um, good night, I guess.”

“Good night.” Gods, he wasn’t even looking at her anymore. She’d absolutely ruined everything, and now she’d have to live with that.

Quietly, she slipped away, up the stairs they’d decorated earlier and into the darkened room. It must have been a cloudy night, for there was no starlight glimmering off of the snow in the yard.

Not bothering with turning on a light, she dug in her bag for the package that had been meant for Callie and pulled the wrapping paper off of it with trembling fingers. The colored pencils tumbled to the floor, the packaging thankfully staying intact, but she was able to keep a hold of the coloring book full of pages of lively flowers. She bit her lip, tracing along the edge of a kingsflame blossom on the cover with her fingertips.

For a fleeting moment she considered tearing the book apart, or throwing it away. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, though, knowing it would only bring her further grief. Instead, she tucked the book and the pencils alike into one of the empty drawers. Rowan would find it later, and maybe he could give it to his daughter and pretend he’d gotten it for her.

Maybe he’d just throw it out when he found it. But there was a chance his temper would’ve calmed enough by the time he actually saw the book that he would pass it along, even if the little girl never learned the true identity of the gift-giver.

It was for the best, she knew. Callie certainly deserved better than someone who came whenever she pleased and left whenever she felt she had to, regardless of how a child would feel about it. That didn’t stop her from quietly sobbing as her head hit the pillow.

~*~*~

The setting was familiar, Aelin sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter in his aunt’s house, even though the reason they were both back here was one she had never expected. His aunt had passed quietly in the night two months before, and now she was seeing him again for the first time in two years as he cleaned up the house to either sell it or rent it out.

Those two years had treated him well, filling out the muscles of his chest and back and shoulders. He was a man now, twenty years of age to her eighteen, and he certainly looked like one too. It was so hard seeing him like this, when she knew that there was someone else waiting for him back home in Wendlyn. But he’d asked for her presence and her assistance, and she knew she would regret it forever if she’d turned him away when he’d needed her.

They had spent nearly an hour in awkward silence, boxing up Maeve’s china and silverware, before Aelin blurted out, “I’m leaving.”

He turned to look at her, though he didn’t speak, and where once she could’ve told what he was thinking just by looking into those eyes, she found he was now a mystery to her.

She rushed to clarify. “Not right now. After I graduate, I mean. Like you did.”

He just returned his focus to the kitchen cabinets, sorting and organizing the many pots and pans his aunt had gathered over the years.

The sound of soft metallic clanging was the only one to reach her ears for a while. Gods, was he truly not even talking to her? He’d barely spoken since he’d arrived in Orynth, but she’d written that off as him feeling uncomfortable with what he was there to do and not anything to do with her personally. Now, though, it was harder to think that his lack of reaction was unrelated to who he was speaking with. Had they truly grown so far apart?

Perhaps they had. Though he wore no ring on his hand, she realized that she didn’t know if he’d actually proposed to Lyria like he’d been talking about those two years previous. When had they even spoken last, before he’d called her to help with this? She was struggling to remember.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to agree to help. But it wasn’t a decision she could just take back now. He needed her.

That didn’t mean his utter lack of response sat well with her, however. She crouched beside him, pulling more pans out of the cabinet, and continued on. “I’m going to Rifthold. There’s a good college there, lots of job opportunities—”

When he cut her off, his voice was cold. “Do what you want, Aelin. I don’t care.”

This time, as she stumbled out of his aunt’s house fighting off tears once more, she knew she wouldn’t speak to him again. He’d moved on and was living his life without his friend. It was beyond time for her to do the same. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and finally deleted his number before letting the tears fall.

~*~*~

Yulemas day passed in a subdued blur for Aelin, and soon she and Lysandra were boarding their train back to Rifthold. Aedion had accompanied them to the station this time, and Aelin stood awkwardly to one side as they exchanged numbers and shy promises to visit whenever they could.

Aelin was happy for them. Really, she was. Someone should have a happy Yulemas season.

Once they were on board and the train had departed, Lysandra tried to get her to talk about Rowan’s conspicuous absence from their departure, but she found she didn’t quite know what to say. She asked something about her and Aedion instead, though she couldn’t remember what, and Lysandra happily chattered along as Aelin watched the snowy woods pass by the window.

Returning to her shoebox of an apartment after having spent so long in Orynth served as a rude awakening for Aelin, and she sighed as she hauled her bag onto the bed so she could unpack. It took twice as long when she was struggling to hold back tears, but she still managed, and even managed a few hours of fitful sleep before dragging herself back to work the next day.

Lysandra had been smart when she’d requested her leave. She’d allowed a day of rest after arriving home, whereas Aelin had thought she would be glad for the return to routine. As she passed through the doors of Havilliard Enterprises, though, swiping her badge along the way for entry into the building, she fought a sudden rise of bile in her throat. This was what she had left it all behind for? Another day, another handful of dollars clutched in her fist at the exchange of her soul, the art she had studied being used to manipulate people into buying whatever stupid shit they were selling today?

It wasn’t too late to call in sick. She could just back out of the doors, call her boss, explain that she’d thought she could make it in but she was just too unwell to work. It would really be for the best; she obviously needed more time to get over everything that had happened in a short week and a half.

She had just turned to leave the building when she saw a sight that made her freeze.

That was Chaol outside the doors, but it wasn’t Nesryn he was kissing. She didn’t know who this woman was, though she worked at the hospital nearby if the scrub pants peeking out from her jacket were anything to go by. The woman smiled up at him, positively glowing with joy from the season—or, no, from something else entirely, Aelin realized as the woman’s hand strayed to her own abdomen. Gods, had he already…?

He evidently had, as his hand slid to cover hers with an answering smile. How long had they even been seeing each other? She’d thought he was still with Nesryn before she’d left for her little vacation; had he been seeing this woman on the side like she was sure he’d been seeing Nesryn while he was still nominally with Aelin?

Something broke in her then, and she realized with a laugh that it was the last chain holding her back. Why should she care what he did? Why should she care about anything that happened in this stupid city, when she had just realized her entire world lay elsewhere?

Turning on her heel, she marched past her own desk and right into her boss’ office. Dorian Havilliard, heir to the company but currently still her immediate supervisor, blinked up at her. “I don’t think we had a meeting until next week,” he said, eyes bleary with what someone else would think was sleep but she knew was most likely whatever crazed Yulemas party he’d attended.

“We don’t, but I’m here to tell you I won’t be at that meeting.” Gods, her heart was fluttering in her chest, but her mind and gut were both in agreement despite her nerves. She was finally doing the right thing for once in her godsdamned life.

He leaned forward, hands braced on the desk in front of him. “Aelin, as your boss I am telling you to get to the point. As your friend, I am telling you that I am too godsdamned hungover to draw this out and begging you to get to the point.”

She smiled. “I quit, Dorian. I’m leaving.”

He blinked, and then laughed. “If I’m being honest with you, I’m surprised every day you keep showing up. You leaving is the most Aelin decision I’ve seen you make in years.”

“You’re not… upset?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “Now get out of here, you know we never let anyone actually work out their time after their notice and I know your projects are all wrapped up anyway. Clean out your desk and go home.”

Grinning, she turned and walked back to her desk, taking the few things she had ever left there to begin with and leaving forever. On her way out, she tugged her phone out of her pocket and texted Lysandra the news before dialing a different number and pacing nervously as the dial tone began to ring.

The recipient of the call didn’t pick up, but she hadn’t exactly expected him to. Instead, she drove home and began throwing her clothes into suitcases while waiting for him to call back.

It didn’t take long before all of her belongings were packed away; most of what she had was clothing, as well as a few kitchen implements for the oven she admittedly never used. Any food in the refrigerator was neatly bagged so Lysandra could use her spare key and pick it up; she didn’t want it to go to waste, after all. She also left the wine, knowing that her friend would likely demand it in exchange for what she was asking of her.

Finally her phone rang, and she glanced briefly at the caller’s name before picking up with a smile. “Hey, I need a favor,” she said.

~*~*~

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Aedion asked as they loaded the last of her boxes into her car. Soon she would be driving her way down to Rifthold and beginning her first days as a university student, and she couldn’t be more excited. Aedion, on the other hand, was much more hesitant about the situation.

It made sense, in a way. He’d stuck around after he graduated, leaping right into the fire academy like his father before him. He’d never had any desire to leave Orynth, and she couldn’t blame him. It held precious few bad memories for him, after all.

Aelin, on the other hand, was tired of feeling weighed down by ghosts of what might’ve been. No, it was past time that she leave. “I’m ready,” she said. “And it’s not like you’ll never hear from me again. You could even visit.”

Her cousin smiled sadly, and she knew if she asked him to he’d follow her to Rifthold just to make sure she was happy. She couldn’t ask that of him, though. He loved his hometown, loved the people in it, and she had no right to take any of that away from him just because she was miserable here. “And you can visit here, you know that, right?”

She laughed. “I’ll be home on my breaks,” she replied, though already it felt strange to refer to Orynth as home when her whole future was about to unfold in another city. “They close the campus down over Yulemas and during the summer, and I’d have nowhere else to stay.”

“Then I guess I won’t take over your room and turn it into a game room just yet,” he teased.

She hugged him, then, dropping her last bag to the ground in order to get a better grip on her cousin and friend. “I’ll miss you,” she admitted. “You and Uncle Gavriel will probably be the only people I miss from here, you know that?”

He frowned, but by this point he knew better than to bring up the spectacular blowup and fizzling out that had been the end of her friendship with Rowan. “I know,” he finally replied. “It’s weird, I want you to make friends out there, and I know you will. But I don’t want you to make too many, because I want you to come home someday. Is that weird?”

She smiled sadly. “That’s not weird. We’re family, and this is the first time we’re going to be this far apart for this long.” It was quite a distance; Rifthold was two days of driving away. She’d be stopping by the border between Terrasen and Adarlan for the evening before getting the rest of the way to the city the next day.

He tugged at her braid rather than reply. “Okay. Get going, before one of us cries. If it’s you I’ll freak out, and if it’s me that’ll just be embarrassing.”

She laughed, tucking her last bag away before opening the driver’s side door. “Whatever, you big baby.”

“Text me when you get to your hotel tonight!” he called as he backed away from the car.

“Yes, mom!” she shouted, grinning when he doubled over in laughter. Then she was driving away, watching him wave until he faded from view.

~*~*~

Aelin’s heart leapt into her throat as she knocked on Rowan’s door just as it had the night before Yulemas. Gods, what if she was making a terrible mistake after all? What if he opened the door, only to slam it shut again in her face? Worse, what if he never opened it at all?

Arms wrapping around herself, she began to pace on his porch. This had been a terrible idea. She should’ve waited a bit longer, maybe run into him in a public place instead of barging into his home. That would’ve been a safer option. This was risky as hell, and yet deep down she knew it was her best chance. That thought did almost nothing to settle her nerves, though.

The door opened, and she looked back at it, blinking when she saw no one at all before glancing down and seeing it had been opened by Callie instead of Rowan. The little girl opened her mouth on a gleeful shout, but Aelin quickly dropped to her knees and hushed her. “It’s a surprise,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Callie whispered back, and Aelin was once again thrown into amusement at just how loud a four-year-old’s whisper could be. Before she could say anything, though, before she could ask the girl about her day or see if her dad was awake yet, tiny arms were thrown around her in a tight hug.

Fuck, but it would be so easy to love this child. If she was truly honest with herself, Rowan’s daughter had stolen away a piece of her heart the moment she’d first heard her try to say her name. Even more than what she may or may not feel for Rowan, this alone was the best confirmation she could get that she was making the right choice after all. “Aww, I’m so glad to see you again too,” she whispered, tucking a stray lock of dirty-blonde hair back into one of her ever-present braids. “Did your daddy do your hair today?” she grinned, already knowing the answer from the way the braids were falling apart. Rowan’s work was far neater.

“Nope!” Callie replied at full volume. “I did!”

Aelin winced, knowing the shout was sure to attract Rowan’s attention. “It’s pretty,” she said as she heard footsteps approach at a full run.

“What are you doing here, Aelin?” Rowan’s words were cold and angry, but when she looked up at him she realized that he wasn’t speaking from a place of wrath. No, Rowan was afraid. And she knew exactly why; he’d shouted it at her on that night before Yulemas, after all.

“You were right,” she said simply, watching the fight drain out of his shoulders. “What I was doing wasn’t fair to you, to her, or to me.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” he replied, but his face… she hadn’t seen this kind of hope cross his features in a long time, and never directed at her.

With a few murmured words down to the child still in her arms, she sent her back to Rowan before standing as Callie wrapped her arms around her father’s leg instead. “I quit my job,” she blurted out. “I quit my job, I broke the lease on my apartment, and I moved back in with Aedion.”

Rowan quietly ushered Callie into the living room, where she resumed happily coloring in a page of… gods, that was the coloring book she’d left behind for her. With his daughter’s attention otherwise occupied, he turned back to Aelin. “Why?” he said quietly.

She felt the corner of her lips turn up in a crooked smile. “I was wrong, when I left for Rifthold. My life wasn’t there, only my work. My life… it’s here. With my family… with you, if you’ll let me.”

Rowan was silent for a moment, clearly thinking over her answer, and she bit her lip. This was it. She’d said everything she could. Now everything depended on Rowan’s response. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and shook his head, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Gods, she was so nervous. Even if he allowed her back in, they would still have so much to resolve, but if he shut her back out now… well, she didn’t know what she’d do.

He finally laughed, tugging her into a crushing embrace and burying his face against her hair. “You never do anything by halves, do you?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer but a sob came out instead, shocking them both. As hot tears spilled down her cheeks, she fisted her hands in the material of his shirt. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why—”

He only pulled her close once more, urging her head to come to rest against his shoulder. “You’ve had a long week,” he said quietly. “We all have.”

Slowly her shoulders stopped shaking, and she finally looked up at him with a watery smile. “So…”

“We’ll have to go slow,” he cautioned. “I meant what I said about Callie having lost enough.”

Was he really saying…? She had to know. “But…” Her words trailed off. What could she even ask? He had to know he was holding her heart in his hands right now. He had to know that a single word from him was about to alter the course of her life forever.

Rather than respond verbally, Rowan leaned in and kissed her like he first had the night before Yulemas, soft and slow, almost tentative.

As much as she wanted to just melt into his embrace and forget time had any meaning, she knew that this alone wouldn’t fix things. And so she pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to get a good look at his face. “Does this mean we can try?”

He smiled. “This means we can try.”

Before she could kiss him again, the sound of tearing paper reached her ears, and they both turned as one to where they’d left Callie coloring. The child had torn a page out of her book, and now she was running back over to them with a wide grin. Breathlessly, she presented the page to Aelin, who accepted it with a smile and then began tearing up all over again when she saw it was a carefully-colored kingsflame blossom like the one that had been on the cover when she’d seen the book in the shop. “I made it for you!” Callie beamed up at her.

Aelin fell to her knees once more, and she felt Rowan do the same beside her before hugging them both to himself. “It’s perfect,” she told Callie earnestly.

And it was perfect. For once in her life, this was a perfect moment, and she was so looking forward to having more just like this.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @rabodocardan @courtofjurdan

[imaginesbymk]

“There is no Goodbye.”

The Pacific One Shot

Summary: Nothing is more ironic than Eugene breaking up with you just for the sake of sparing you the heartbreak if he were to die at war. But when he’s lucky to return home to Mobile, his first mission is to find you. Will Eugene be able to win you back before someone else does?

Pairing: Eugene Sledge x Fem!Reader

Non Requested

Tags: angst/breakup, swearing, smoking, drinking, mentions of an ethnic slur + mentions of war violence

Word Count: 3,016

Author’s Note: song inspiration for this oneshot is wait by m83!!! i totally recommend this song cos its so beautiful!! pls give this a like/reblog and maybe some feedback!! <333

YOU were sick of crying in your pillow every night. You were aware of how puffy your eyes must have been by now, you acknowledged your friends who called and visited, checking on you, but not even that helped soothe the heartache in you. His name just kept echoing in your mind and replayed, finding their way into your sleep. You wished you hated Eugene Sledge, but deep down in your heart- you just couldn’t.

Three knocks came on your bedroom door. “Y/n, your food’s getting cold,” you heard your mother from the other side.

“I’m not hungry.” You couldn’t remember the amount of times you’ve used that as an excuse to stay where you were, depressed and heartbroken. 

Eugene broke up with you on a Sunday night. You two were dressed for the occasion; a dinner party was held at a grand convention center that was known and popular by several Alabamians. You wore the necklace Eugene got you as a gift, and you loved showing it off. In fact, you wore it every day to remind yourself, your family and your friends that Eugene Sledge was the love of your life. 

Later you noticed how strange he was acting the whole dinner, how quiet and tense he got so suddenly. His hand would slip away whenever you held it while walking, or when they were held under the table. It was like he was trying to hold something back, like a cat catching his tongue. Then, you found him outside, leaning against the stairway. 

“What is it, Eugene?” 

He paused every time he looked at you, how it pained him to say what he needed to say. Whether it was now or never, he leaves for the train in a couple of days.

“Wait a minute, Eugene,” You remembered your body turning cold as ice, but not from the night breeze. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Oh how you wished he was kidding, but the look on his face read that he wasn’t in the slightest. He was joining the marines corps, despite his heart murmur and his father and brother encouraging him to go to college instead. He flunked out of his classes on purpose just to enlist, and since only God knows what fate lies ahead, he felt it was best to put a stop to the relationship.

It wasn’t your right to be angry about his choices sometimes. He was in his twenties now, old enough to make up his mind. He was fighting for everyone’s freedom, after all, which is probably the bravest thing Eugene is doing. However, you didn’t understand why. Eugene was a believer, he believed in God and miracles. He asked God to send him a miracle through prayer in his own time, and they were answered in the form of you. So why couldn’t he believe in the stable relationship you both can still have even when he’s off to fight?

As expected, you didn’t take it too well. Right there, you broke down in front of him. Eugene walked over and reached his hand out to touch your shoulder, but you shoved him away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. You angrily ripped the necklace off of you and threw it at him before running off in tears. He never chased after you.

You dared not to go back inside the dining hall where your family and friends were, as well as his, so you walked home by yourself without waiting for anyone to catch up with you. He was going mad, you bet. Enlisting in the marines was one thing, but calling it quits on your relationship?

That was the last time you saw Eugene. He didn’t wait to see if you would turn up at the train station, begging him to have a change of heart. He never saw you there, and he boarded the train to California.

What were you more upset about: the love of your life dumping you, or the chances of the love of your life dying?

THE year was now 1945, and Eugene sat in the passenger seat in Sid’s mobile when he picked him up from the station. 

The Japanese surrendered, and the boys back at the islands held a celebration with drinking, bonfires and loud music. Eugene, Snafu and Burgin sat on the rocks, watching the night sky, contemplating their return to home.

Victory Day was now nighttime, Eugene blew out smoke from his pipe, counting the stars. His tiny bible that was pocketed in his dungarees was pulled out, using the distant lit fires as a light to read through the tallied marks from the book of Genesis to Thessalonians, then out came a piece of paper that fell onto his lap. 

He picked it up and unfolded it, taking another puff from his pipe. Eugene reads the first two words. 

Dear y/n

The letter was never delivered to you because it was a letter Eugene had never sent, in fact it was never finished. He never got his first sentence down as they were ordered to get their gear ready to move down Okinawa. He never wrote a letter to you at all for the rest of his time serving, because he knew he wouldn’t be receiving one back.

Snafu slapped him awake one night and told him to shut up because he kept saying your name in his sleep. Eugene sounded desperate and panicked when he said it, too, and if the volume increased, it would have given away their spot. The marine was lucky it was a slap in the face rather than a bullet to the skull. 

The next day, Snafu asked Eugene for two things: a light, and who “y/n” was.

“She was my girl,” Eugene handed a lighter to Snafu to light his cigarette.

“Was.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her at home just for a man in uniform to come to her door to tell her I’ve been KIA.”

“Shit, so you dumped her?” Snafu grins. “Should of given her to me, Sledgehammer.”

Eugene didn’t laugh. It was an inappropriate joke, no surprise coming from Snafu himself. He sat in the filth in silence, his bloodied and dirty hands holding your gold necklace that you threw at him. He brought it with him to war, and kept it as a bookmark in his Bible.

Eugene’s home was the same as he had left it, he knew that when Sid pulled up at the long pathway at the gates. Georgia cottage was indeed a sight, and Eugene loved it so much as a child. It was spacious with nature and trees to walk his dog, a forest down the road to go hunting and fishing with his father, a meadow where he would take you on a warm day.

Sid sat in the parked car for a few moments, Eugene hadn't started walking to the front door just yet. “I visited her,” Sid broke the silence. “Just like I promised.”

Eugene had to ask, “How is she?”

“I was starting to think she had forgotten about you... that was until I showed up at her door,” he replies. “It was tense, but she’s doing all right.”

Eugene nods, smiling a bit. He trusted his best friend to check up on you for him. At least you were doing fine, according to Sid’s words. "No crying?”

“She don’t cry no more. I introduced her to Mary Houston and invited her to my wedding- if that’s alright with you.”

He chuckled, making a face. “Why would I not be? It’s your wedding, you greaser.”

“Well one, and you should probably take my word for it, Y/N still hates your guts,” he said. “And two, whether or not she speaks to you at all on my wedding day, at least I’ll have you there as my best man.” Sid noticed the look on his best friend’s face. “There’s the O.O.M ball coming up. Y/n’s gonna be there.”

He smiles at him. “See you later?”

“Welcome home, Eugene.” And he drives off, prompting Eugene to reunite with his parents.

[x]

SHOWING up to the O.O.M ball immediately made you feel bummed. You showed up without a date. You shouldn’t have the right to feel bummed, anyway. You turned down any guy that had asked you. You could have said yes, but something in your heart was telling you no, and you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

Sighing, you suddenly didn’t feel like going to the bar for a second drink, and you just didn’t like waiting until your friends weren’t with their dates to go up to talk to them, so you found yourself heading outside to the front. It’s not like you could escape the guests, as tables and chairs were set outside occupied with more people, and even more people standing around and chatting with their friends.

You leaned over a tree where you felt like no one could see you for approach, being able to hear the loud music from the inside. But for what? You could just leave and say you felt sick. What were you waiting for? 

Several years had gone by since he left, and nothing about you has changed. Your hair grew a bit after a slight trim, and so has your wardrobe. Your dress was pretty expensive, and no one complimented it. You just needed someone to come up to you and say- 

“You look beautiful.” 

You spun around, knowing that Southern accent all too well. Not a lot of alcohol was consumed, so asking yourself if you drank too much that you started to see and hear things was out of the question. How did he know where to find you? How was he able to sneak up on you like how he used to as a surprise? He’d always do that, then pick you up and spin you around with joy. But this time, he stood in front of you, gazing at you like a painting.

Your vision started blurring.

“Y/n?” he thought you were having a stroke in front of him, and he reached out his hand. “Y/n?”

“Gimme a minute.” You breathed heavily, gripping the tree for support. Maybe you were about to faint in shock. After picking up your senses, you were able to respond. “Eugene,” you said softly. “You’re here.”

He nodded. “In the flesh.” You really couldn’t believe it. Maybe you were seeing and hearing things. But he was here. Eugene Sledge was really here, standing before you, and not a scratch on his face. His hair was fixed, too, and you could tell he was now in greater shape.

“How was...” you felt like you shouldn’t ask for so many reasons. “I mean, you made it. You’re home.”

“At last,” he answered, placing his wooden pipe in his mouth. “What are you doing all the way over here? Your date’s probably searching all of Mobile for you.”

“I don’t have a date,” you shook your head. “I mean, I came alone. I didn’t bring anyone.”

“You too?” he blew out smoke.

“Yeah. Um-” all it took was for you to breath in and crunch your nose from the awful stench of nicotine that everyone was so used to. “Since when did you start smoking?” 

He shrugged. “Since I killed my first Jap. Helps me calm down.”

"Well... I’m talking to you and you’re blowing smoke right in my face.”

Eugene nodded, taking the pipe out. “Sorry. How have you been?”

“Good.”

Eugene furrowed his brows. “That’s it? Just good?”

“I mean, what else would you expect me to say?”

“You’ve completed your education, you’re engaged, you and your partner are buying a house?”

“Jesus, Eugene. It’s way too early for that. I can’t even drive.”

“I’m kidding. I can only assume you’re in complete shock. I can’t say I’m not surprised,” Eugene says. “I can also assume you hated me as soon as you threw the necklace I gave you right at me.”

“And I still hate you.”

He looks at you, scoffing. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” you folded your arms. “You dump me and leave to join the marine corps, I wrote you a letter on your birthday and you never wrote back, every time I see your parents at the market they look at me like I’m the face of death. You shouldn’t have come here, I was doing just fine.”

“Really?” Eugene raised his eyebrows. The nonsense coming out that mouth. If only Eugene could kiss them shut. "All right. Heard you spoke with Sid.”

“Yeah, and? He invited me to his wedding."

“And he asked me to be his best man. So you might as well hold in your punch until the wedding is over.”

Your blood started to boil. Maybe you haven’t changed, but the war did indeed change the hell out of him. This attitude he carried wasn’t impressing you one bit. “What the hell’s your problem?”

“My problem? I’m trying to have a conversation with you, y/n.”

“And you’re acting as if I’m the reason you dumped me.”

“I had my reasons,” he spoke back,

“Damn you, Eugene Sledge!” you slapped him repeatedly on his chest and shoulder. “Damn you for hurting me like that! Damn you for not writing to me! Damn you for leaving me!”

You cried out, as he simply stared and did his best to restrain your arms away from hitting him once more. 

He never spoke a word until you calmed down. Then, you realized... “Oh God, Eugene. I’m so sorry,” you gasp. “I would never lay a hand on you.”

“A Jap tried to kill me with a bayonet,” Eugene said. “I kinda had that slap coming.”

You let a tear fall down your cheek, and you looked down so Eugene wouldn’t be able to notice, but he was smart enough to know. “Baby... it’s okay. I’m here now.” He pulled you close and held you. You haven’t felt his touch since that night. You were overcome with the nostalgia during the happy times, and even the sad times. He would hold you like you were gonna slip right out of his hands.

“I’ve missed you so much, y/n. There hasn’t been a night where I haven’t dreamt about you, where I would die, or where I would watch you marry a man who doesn’t know you the way I do.”

“Eugene... you broke my heart and just stomped on it like mud.”

“And you had every right to be hurt, but that was never my intention, I just did what I thought was the right thing.” He played with the curls in your hair and kissed you softly on your temple.

It wasn’t like it was a last minute decision. Regardless his heart murmur was there or not, he wasn’t going to stay home and attend classes. Breaking up with you wasn’t last minute, either. 

“I guess I should have been more understanding,” you admit, leaning back against the tree. 

“I spent nights trying to come up with what I was going to say, and when I was planning on saying it. I used to worry about the murmur, if I’d remember to feed Deacon, or telling my Mother about my plans for the future.”

“You weren’t sure about any of those things, Gene.”

“Seeing your face that night made me realize I’m never going to love anyone else the way I love you,” Eugene shook his head slowly. “I was definitely sure about that.”

“Loved,” you correct him.

“No, y/n. Love. I still love you, more than the stars reach the apex of this goddamn universe. I don’t think I’m ever gonna stop loving you. You’re really the answer God has given me after endless nights of praying for something good.”

“Then why didn’t you write me?”

“I had to find a way to move on. If it distracted me from fighting, I would have been as good as dead. Something in me died from the war, but the feelings I have for you are still here.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit. “I love you more, Eugene.”

“So I hope it’s not too late to ask this,” Eugene said. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N, are you seeing anyone?”

You shook your head.

He raised his brows. “So for nearly four years, you haven’t been seeing anyone? Not one fella?”

“I tried to. I mean, I kept thinking you slept with a nurse.”

“Women weren’t even in my corner of the pacific, and nurses were there to do their jobs. Besides,” Eugene smiled. “I’d rather come home to the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known in Mobile.”

“Mary Houston?”

Eugene laughs. “I was talking about you. At least you’re humble.” He laughed harder when you started playfully slapping him on the chest repeatedly again. “Hey! But there’s no one I’d rather be with. I’m willing to start over, maybe pick up where we left off.”

“I would love that.” 

Eugene reached in his tux pocket, pulling out the golden necklace you loved wearing. “I believe this belongs to you.” He walked behind you, and began wrapping the necklace around your neck, clipping the lock together in place. “Y’know, after throwing it right at my face?”

“Sorry,” you blushed. “Don’t ever do that again; saying goodbye.”

“There is no goodbye.” He turned your head to face him using his finger under your chin. “There never was, just the old hello.”

You smiled again. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” He pulls you close to him. “Is that all right?”

“You can kiss me whenever you feel like it, Gene.” And you wouldn’t mind it one bit.

“Yes, ma’am.” And he leans in, kissing you almost a dozen times now, the overcoming nostalgia of the good time hitting once more. “And once I’m done kissing the daylights outta you, I’m bringing you inside. It’s been a while since I’ve danced with the love of my life.”

the end

[sincerelybubbles]

E,J,T, and U for Bakugo,Izuku, and Todoroki. I LOVE your writing! Thanks in advance

yeah, of course babie :))

Katsuki Bakugo

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’s not going to drag it out

And he’s never going to let anyone see how much that shit tears him up

Honestly, I think he’d let himself cry for maybe two days, but only alone

He wouldn’t be a coward about it though, so never over text or the phone

He’d be standing there, fists clenched, and he would look you dead in the eye

“We’re not working out. We’re done.”

He would try to not sound heartless, but the minute you seem upset, or God forbid cry, he’s turning around

If you try and talk to him while he walks away he’s going to sound like ice

“Don’t be a wimp. It’s over, go away.”

His back would be turned to you and he would one hundred percent be holding back tears but there’s no fucking way he’s letting you know that this upset him as much as it did

He would definitely be the one who couldn’t remain friends

He’s not going to be able to deal with hearing you laugh and be nice and friendly, his heart would literally ache seeing you happy

But he wouldn’t be able to stand being mean to you anymore

He’s not nice, but he doesn’t tease you or make fun of you anymore

Honestly, he’s just empty when it comes to you after you have to end it

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s jealous beyond all belief

Its’ not that he doesn’t trust you, but he also doesn’t want anyone even looking at you in any type of way.

You’re his, nobody elses

He, of course, doesn’t ever accuse you of anything, he knows that you only have eyes for him

But he’s also baring his teeth and cursing out anyone who would dare try to flirt with you

If you ask him to back off, he’ll try his best, he really really will, but in the moment when that due is so obviously hitting on you

Well. . .

He can’t help it

At first, he warns them to get the fuck away from his girlfriend

And then he starts cursing and getting ready to fight

Trust me, if you don’t calm him down or get him away from the situation, then he will fight

If you are attempting to hold you own against unwanted attention, he lets you for a bit, but if it drags on, he’s coming to help you

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He tries, just not in the way that everyone else does 

Bakugo isn’t going to buy you flowers weekly, set up a romantic dinner with lights and shit, take you on a picnic, or anything like that 

. . .unless you ask him to 

He’s going to take note of what you like and do that 

He’s? The? Best? At? Giving? Gifts???

He just listens to you when you talk, and if you mention needing something or liking something, he’ll remember or put it in his phone 

He’s also going to (obviously) pretend that things are less of a big deal then they actually are

So, don’t expect a monthly celebration

He will one hundred percent celebrate the yearly event, and if you ask, he’d be willing to celebrate six months

He’s more into doing small things he knows you’ll enjoy rather then huge, blown out things that you may or may not like

So no slide show of why he loves you complete with pictures and music 

And don’t expect him to dress up

But, be ready for a homecooked meal, your favorite movie (that you swear only mentioning you liked maybe once), a few gifts, and some uninterrupted time together, no hero business (as he tends to get pulled away randomly) 

Now, everyday things? 

He puts in more effort then you would think. 

Like, sending you a playlist of songs he thinks you’ll like randomly

Or doing the small, mundane tasks that you don’t like doing, like dishes or laundry 

He’s not going to proclaim his undying, unending love daily, but he will sure as hell give you a back rub if you want one, you know?

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) 

He has a few

His biggest thing is his pride

So, we all know he has a big mouth and might maybe just sometimes go a bit too far in teasing you

Which is nothing you can’t handle

The issue arises when he can’t admit that he took it too far 

“Don’t be winey, you’re fine.” He scoffs, turning away from you

He doesn’t like to admit that maybe he took this one too far

That’s not to say that he’ll never admit it, but don’t expect it to be easy for him

And if you tell him something was too far, he won’t get close to that subject again, but it is super difficult to get him to say sorry 

Sometimes, all a situation needs is an “I’m sorry.”

And those two words are not his strong-suit

He’d rather just move on, never do it again, and maybe get you something to show he feels bad

He sure as hell doesn’t want to talk about why it upset you

He’s also stubborn and entirely too independent

It takes a while for him to realize he can and should rely on you

And even once he does, he has a nasty habit of just letting his feelings fester rather then tell you that something is bothering him

He is working on it though

Because when he lets things sit for too long, he tends to snap at you for small things, leading both of you to feel like shit 

So, he’s working on that one

Izuku Midoriya 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’s so nervous that he is shaking 

But he refuses to do it over the phone 

He needs to see you and explain why he did it

So he’ll sit you down and explain everything 

He will one hundred percent cry 

And, despite the fact that he is talking about it with you, when the conversation is over, it’s over.

He has thought through every way to avoid this, he knows it won’t work out, and there’s no convincing him otherwise 

He will want to be friends though 

Despite how much it might hurt, he isn’t one to be cold to his ex

Maybe a bit distant, but never cold, he wouldn’t shut you out

And, ever caring, you’ll get an apology text a few days after and a check-in text a month of two later

He refuses to let his feelings interfere with school or hero work, so it almost seems like everything is fine, but if you peer close enough, you can see how forced his smile is and how he is putting much much more effort into training 

Despite it all, this is Izuku, so he’s tearful when talking about it, but he really has though through every other option, so he knows he’s doing the right thing 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s stealth jealous 

Seriously, you don’t even realize it at the beginning

And, even when you do notice, it’s not even often that he gets jealous

He’s far too proud of you and who you are and that you’re his to get possessive or jealous

But when he does?

It’s not a big deal like Bakugo

He just silently takes note of who the person is and everything about them 

He’s ever-so more distant to them and might hold on to you tighter 

After a bit into the relationship, Izuku has quit being so insecure about the two of you, so he’s not nervous that you would leave him anymore 

But he does start mentioning casually all of their flaws 

“Kacchan is always really sweaty because of his quirk.” “I heard that guy from the party has never had a serious relationship.” “They said they hate cats.”

And he’ll keep going until you assure him that you know and tell him he has nothing to be jealous about 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He tries so hard

Izuku Midoriya is a planner, okay?

So anniversaries are a Big Deal™

But, much like Bakugo, they aren’t just surface-value events that he threw together because he saw them on TV

No, they’re packed full of things that you love 

Same with gifts, he has never gotten you anything that you don’t adore

He is nervous though 

He tries so hard to make every anniversary perfect, so he’s on edge right up until he sees your smile and can relax knowing he did a good job

Date though? Dates are where he thrives

He loves every date you’ve planned and loves nothing more then taking you on a small adventure to make you smile on a random Tuesday

These dates, although picked specifically because he knows you’ll enjoy them, hold less weight to him, so he’s completely relaxed as he drives you to a new spot into the forest he found that he thinks you’ll love, a picnic packed in the trunk. 

Izuku is super considerate too

He isn’t over the top in doing things every day for you, be he will do small things when he can 

Like getting your tires changed on your car without you asking, or buying your favorite snacks before you can even notice that you’re running low

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

As hard as he’s trying to become a hero, Izuku can be forgetful 

Never big things, like your birthday or anniversary, but he does tend to forget when you’ve planned to have dinner, often not texting you that he can’t make it until two hours after he was supposed to be home

He really doesn’t mean to, and when he does he tries his hardest to make it up to you, but being a hero is constantly on his mind and sometimes he just can’t help it 

He also stretches himself to thin too often 

There’s no time to cuddle and talk when he’s exhausted himself so much that he crashes the moment he gets home 

You can’t exactly spend a weekend with someone who gladly stays at work longer then he needs to just because he can. 

He is more then receptive when you tell him when he does things wrong, but he also overreacts super often 

Sometimes, you just need to tell him “Please don’t leave your dishes in the sink without rinsing them” without it becoming an entire discussion about how he’ll do better and how sorry he is 

But, Izuku does try really hard, and that’s what counts

Shoto Todoroki 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I hate to be the one to say it, but 

Todoroki would dump you over text 

Not because he want’s to be mean 

he doesn’t even realize it’s mean

But because efficiency, and this way you wouldn’t have to see how much it bothers him 

He would be the one to break up with you but would actually be okay with it if you suggested talking things over 

to a certain extent, if you really messed up, he’s out

But he’s not opposed to meeting you a few days after, when everything has cooled down to talk things through 

But be prepared to be persuasive, because if he went through the entire thought process of breaking up with you, he’s probably pretty set on the idea that there’s no other way

He wouldn’t cry too much, but he also wouldn’t try and hide it

He’s human, he’s upset, but he also tries not to linger 

After, he almost doesn’t act too much different 

He still talks to you and asks questions and is entirely too considerate of you and your feelings for an ex

But Todoroki is just a nice guy

“Why’re you being so nice to me? We just broke up?” “Isn’t it bad enough that we broke up? Why would I be mean?”

He still cares, but wouldn’t smother you and your bond would never be the same, despite how nice he is, he cannot allow himself to be set up to be hurt again

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He just kinda. . .

Doesn’t?

He trusts you, and knows there’s no reason to be

He obviously doesn’t want other guys flirting with you, and if need be, he’ll tell them to stop, but he’s not angry

“Sho, you’re not jealous? They were obviously flirting with me.”

He’d look at you, tilting his head to the side curiously 

“Do I need to be? It didn’t seem like you were interested in them at all.” 

He’s gotten super jealous once

And it was because he was tired, hadn’t seen you in a while, and just kinda. . . snapped

He trapped them in some ice and walked away with you, without saying anything 

But, in general, he doesn’t get jealous

If you send him a look asking for his help though, that’s another story

Now they’ve made you uncomfortable, now they’re going to have to face your boyfriend

He really just gives them an ice-cold look before grabbing your hand and leading you away 

If they follow you two? 

Simple.

Ice time. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Todoroki is. . .

An interesting one, to say the least 

He’s pretty forgetful, to be completely honest 

So he has fifty reminders of your anniversary 

Typically, he likes to just stay in and cook with you, maybe rent a movie, and he’ll give you a few gifts 

He has, on several occasions, just put a bow him his head and sat on the couch until you wake up.

“Uh, Sho?”

“Happy anniversary. I am your present. What do you want to do today?”

It made you laugh the first time, so now he does it any time that his gift is quality time together, because he’s honestly just a sucker for your laugh 

He puts effort into your gifts, but he has to ask around your friends, and sometimes he just straight-up goes to you and says “What do you want for [insert holiday here]

He is somebody who ensures that you always have fresh flowers

He even arranges the bouquets himself 

Every week, you get new flowers, even if the ones from last week aren’t wilted

Even when you live together, he gets you flowers weekly without fail

Catch him going out even when he’s sick to get you roses 

He’s super sweet when he wants to be, and so little dates are always perfect

He somehow turns a two hour road trip to get doughnuts into the most memorable date ever 

Dates he plans out aren’t the biggest , most extravagant thing, but rather, they’re simple, sweet, and centered around a good time.

As for every day things, he tries his hardest

But he really is just forgetful 

He does like to write you little notes whenever he knows hes going to be gone for work before you’re awake

He does often forget dinners with you, but he always makes it up to you 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Alert the press! Shoto Todorki is perfect 

No, in all honesty, Shoto isn’t always the most careful in how he approaches situations 

Sometimes he’ll graze over things that are super important to you, leaving you feeling unimportant 

And, the worst thing is, he isn’t even aware that he does it 

And if you tell him, he corrects himself immediately, but he isn’t able to figure out he’s doing it unless you tell him 

He’s also the driest texter you’ll ever meet

He doesn’t even know that leaving you on read for hours is as rude as it is

Shoto really prefers to call, but when he texts 9/10 of the times end with you upset 

So you two avoid texting 

He’s also the slightest bit inconsiderate about miniscule things, like not moving your things around the house without telling you 

Leading you to be oh so confused as to where the heck your hairbrush is 

He just moves things sometimes without telling you, like the silverware drawer, simply because he wanted to

Hope you enjoyed! I really liked writing these :)) If you didn’t know, these are for my 100 follower celebration, which can be found here! Requests are still open if you’re interested, the sfw alphabet that I am working with is also included in the above link :)))) Thank you for all of your support <3

[angelguk]

→ fine line — a namjoon scenario

member: kim namjoon (rm)

word count: 6.7k

genre: smut + enemies to friends w benefits honestly + everyone is aware if it but them + jimin is annoying + it’s christmas and ppl r horny

warnings: namjoon is big :) / fingering / oral sex (f recieving) / uhh almost fucking in a bathroom / alcohol consumption / dommish namjoon / v long for absolutely no reason

soundtrack: situationship, snoh aalegra

It's an understatement to say that you hate Kim Namjoon. At this point it's not in even hate, it's unadulterated abhorrence. Every time he saunters into a room, the silage of his musky cologne lingering after him, you have to repress the intense need to gag. If you had it your way, you would never be around him. But because he has somehow developed a close relationship with your best-friend Taehyung, he'd gradually wormed his way into your life. It had started slow, causal lunches that he suddenly appeared at, birthday parties he was suddenly invited too and then it was dropping by Taehyung's to find him perched on your friend's floor, fresh from work, reeking of soju and his necktie loosened from its secure knot as if he lived there. 

At first, you paid no attention to him, assuming that he would get the hint that you were not interested in being his friend despite his closeness to Taehyung. Yet, for some reason unbeknown to you, the self-proclaimed genius with a law degree under his belt never took the hit. It's as if he enjoyed getting under your skin, relished the irritation that would warm your checks and set your mouth into a hard line whenever he poked at you with his snarky comments and insincere smiles. It made you want to punch him in throat sometimes. But even you didn't know where this animosity spawned from. You couldn't explain it even to Taehyung when he'd tentatively asked why you didn't click with his closest colleague. You'd blanked at the question actually. It was hard to put it into words, the feelings you held against Namjoon. It wasn't like he was outwardly a terrible person. He had a charming nature about him, was easy to approach and an amiable smile that drew people towards him. It didn't help that he was also tall and large and wore fitted shirts the spread tightly over his wide chest. It made your own feel like it's caving in on itself sometimes. But that's not an observation you would like to dissect, not now. Not ever. And especially when Namjoon's sprawled on the living room couch, legs spread and his thick thighs on display, bulging through the taut fabric of his jeans. He's idly scrolling through his phone, face illuminated by the soft amber light filling the room, a hand ruffling the dusty blonde mane on his head.

The sight itself makes you halt under the doorway, the drinks Jimin had handed to you stagnant in your hands. Something lurches dangerously in your gut when he settles further into the chair, tucking a cushion under his arm. He looks snug, something about that makes you blink very hard.

Yes, you hate Kim Namjoon.

"Stop eye-fucking him," Jimin murmurs as he glides past. You splutter violently, eyebrows kissing your hairline when you lock gaze with him. You don't miss the mischievous glint in his brown eyes.

"I wasn't," You hiss in return, feet suddenly working again.

Jimin gives you a look. It says a lot of things but the general gist is that he knows you're lying out of your ass. "Sure," He drawls, dumping the mugs he's carrying onto the coffee table. "I believe that."

You make sure to kick his knee once you've placed down your own mugs, ignoring the perplexed glance Namjoon throws at the both of you.

"Eggnog?" He says instead of inquiring about your odd behaviour. He peers at the cups like you're offering him poison.

"Yes," Jimin retorts, a bright grin on his face when he notices the scowl gracing your face. "Post dinner shenanigans must ensue immediately. Where's everyone else? We've got Christmas games to play."

"Pretty sure Hoseok and Seoyeon are fucking upstairs, Taehyung's somewhere outside with Jeongguk and Iseul and I think Minhee's in the bathroom."

Jimin makes a face at Namjoon's remark about Hoseok. "Right after dinner? Honestly?"

You give him a sharp glance when Namjoon snorts at his snide. He's acting like he hasn't devoured a whole ice sundae before sucking some dude off in a public restroom. Maybe he can read it in your gaze because he elbows you rather roughly. "Go get the rest of the drinks or I'll leave you with him," Jimin mutters, head turned to avoid Namjoon discerning his comment. You roll your eyes but walk away, glad for the brief break from Namjoon before Jimin insists that everyone convene and you have to pretend to tolerate him for the whole night. The alcohol would certainly help but being in a closed space with Namjoon for longer than thirty minutes made you want to bang your head against a wall. It would be nice if you could just wipe him off your life, but he stuck there like an immovable stain, immune to all your efforts to erase his existence.

Regardless, Namjoon must have been right about Hoseok, because he comes down with his face flushed peach, Seoyeon clinging to his side with a dopey grin spread across her pretty lips. They stay glued together for the rest of evening, not even glancing up with Taehyung, Jeongguk and Iseul saunter in, coated in snow and noses red from the bitter cold raging outside. They don't even notice when Minhee finally emerges from the bathroom. It's only when Jimin forces them apart do they acknowledge anyone else's presence. But at that point you're on your second mug of eggnog, dutifully ignoring Namjoon with your body pressed snugly against Jeongguk's.

That's how your evening pans out, belly gradually filling with the endless stream of eggnog Jimin supplies out of the kitchen, a grin steadily creeping onto your lips with every ridiculous game that sprouts from his head. It's undeniable that he's the life of the party, dragging a loud laugh from your mouth when his charade battle against Iseul, Jeongguk and Minhee turns ugly. At some point, Taehyung stumbles into an argument with Namjoon over whether Home Alone or Elf was the superior Christmas movie which has you cracking up despite the constant stream of Namjoon's rumbling voice filling the air. And then Seoyeon forces everyone to start singing Christmas carols, belting loud and completely out of key but too drunk to care. It's a merry moment, where the hostility you hold against Namjoon briefly falls to the back burner of your brain. Even his jokes make you giggle, something that you're not aware of until Jimin gives you a pointed look, his eyebrow cocked. And then you're forced to stifle your laughter whenever he says something remotely funny which is annoying because underneath the pretty haze of your drunkenness everything is funny. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

It's only when your stomach starts swimming dangerously do you take your leave, wobbling towards the bathroom where you perch yourself on the toilet seat. You rest your head between your knees, fingers despairingly clutching the hem of your dress as you contemplate how you got to this point, the bathroom tiles whirling underneath you. You can hear them through the door, Seoyeon's jubilant squeals (probably a result of something Hoseok did) and the loud baritone of Namjoon's seeping through the wood. There's a carol playing that you can't recall the name of, but you hum it until your queasiness subsides. Maybe, if you hadn't stuffed yourself with an obscene amount of bread pudding during dinner you would be feeling fine. It sits heavy in your gut, threatening to spew itself across the pristine bathroom floor. It gradually ebbs away and when you lift your head, the world isn't moving flying fast anymore.

You take a moment to collect yourself, a silly grin on your face when you finally stagger up to the mirror. It's still evident you're drunk, there's no way to hide it but your pat your face anyway attempting to sober up and breathing slowly. It works, albeit to a minuscule degree.

You don't expect to bump into him when you exit the bathroom, balance still uneven. He's exiting the living room, feet drifting in the direction of the bathroom you'd just popped out from. It's the astonishment that makes you stumble, your feet fumbling over themselves when Namjoon's broad chest collides into yours. The small sound that leaves you mouth makes your cheeks hit up, a dangerous uptick in your heartbeat when his wide palms suddenly clamp down on your shoulders, pulling your closer until your pressed flush against him. You regain your balance so fast that you head spins when you shove him away, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You don't expect to find the concern colouring his honey eyes.

"Are you okay?" He murmurs, hands instinctively coming up to steady you once more.

You lean into it without thinking before immediately taking a sharp step back, a tiny laugh tumbling from your lips. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He eyes the bathroom door behind you. "You were there for a while. You sure you're alright?"

"I'm peachy, Namjoon. Perfectly fine. A little drunk, but fine." Although the fact that he noticed your absence makes your heart clench dangerously in your chest, the look he gives you isn't appreciated in the slightest.

"A little bit drunk? You sure about that?" You read the incredulity in his tone easily enough and the hostility you feel towards him rears it's ugly head immediately.

"Yes," You hiss, trying to slip away but Namjoon's blocking the entrance with his wide shoulders. He stays stagnant, eyes flickering over your face as he attempts to decipher whats ruminating in your head. You're fortunate he's not a mind-reader because you're having a lot of thoughts about the way his navy sweater fits over his chest right now. But for a split second, when he cocks an eyebrow, you think that he's found a way into your thoughts, skin heating up at the mere idea of Namjoon being able to read the things running through your brain right now. But then he opens his mouth, the beginning of a coy smirk tugging at this plump pink lips, and that notion wilts immediately.

"You should learn how to handle your liquor." The comment makes you bristle. Maybe if you just bulldozed him over Namjoon would shut-up and leave you alone.

"And you should learn how to mind your business," You retort, shooting him a hard glare that Namjoon responds to with a sickeningly broad smile.

"I was concerned, can't having you throwing up over everything in the bathroom can we?"

"It's none of your concern if I was, Namjoon. And I'm fully capable of cleaning up my own mess - if I even threw up. You've never even seen me throw up."

He shrugs, irritatingly nonchalant while you bubble with ire. "I've heard stories."

When you find Taehyung and Jeongguk, you'll kill them. Slowly. Painfully slowly.

"Could you just fucking move? I really don't have the energy to entertain you right now." You're on the verge of just roughly pushing him aside, but your palm itches at the prospect of touching his chest, hand involuntarily curling into a fist. Namjoon stays immobile before you, a tiny grin on his lips that you are aching to wipe off.

There's another venomous comment about to tumble from your lips, but the ringing voice of Jimin cuts through it, loud and clear.

"Mistletoe!" At first, you don't get it, staring at his smug face confused. But then you tilt your head, finding the accusing plant dangling above your head. You don't miss the gleeful laugh that bursts from Jeongguk's mouth when he catches Jimin's comment and before long, everyone is looking at the two of you, expectant.

You'd rather shoot yourself in the foot.

But Jimin is relentless, slithering towards you with tumblers of whiskey in his hand, a devious smile gracing his lips. "Come on, you know the rules. Kiss already!"

"Jimin, don't you dare," You seethe. Namjoon doesn't miss that, percipient gaze flickering between the two of you.

"What do you mean?" He's feigning ignorance and you're considering smacking his head. "And what are two waiting for? Kiss!"

Jeongguk jumps in a beat later, immediately followed by rest of your friend group. The chant is accompanied by Taehyung loudly banging the coffee table to the rhythm of the word 'kiss'.

You glance at Namjoon not expecting him to be staring at you so intently.

"So?" He cocks his head.

"No," You firmly retort.

"They aren't going to let us live," He reasons, which is true because your friends are behaving like animals right now over a simple kiss.

"I don't care," You softly murmur.

"Well, okay. But they'd forget about it if we just kissed." You pause, quickly thinking it over as your gaze falters over Jimin and Jeongguk chanting the words like it's their only lifeline. There's no way they would forget it but it would make the rest of the night a lot easier.

"Fine," You mutter. "No tongue. I'll kill you if you use tongue."

"A peck isn't a kiss," Namjoon laughs, already leaning into your space. You hate how your eyes catch on his, locking on his gaze so quick that you reel from it. "But are you sure you didn't throw up?"

"Namjoo-" Your words are swallowed by his mouth, lips swiftly moulding against yours. The sudden touch coaxes a low moan out of your mouth, one that immediately sets your cheeks ablaze. But Namjoon eats it up, a wide palm rising to cup your chin. He tilts your head ever so slightly, following the directive act with a tentative swipe of his tongue against your lips. They part involuntarily, the feeling of Namjoon's mouth softly moving against your own sending a sudden shock straight to your core. He tastes faintly of eggnog, sweet against your lips. Maybe you lean forward, maybe your eyes flutter when his nose bumps against yours. Maybe everything falls away and you can only hear the pounding thump of your heart in your chest as your blood roars violently. It's slow and fast simultaneously. Like time is dragging itself out and running from your fingertips all at once. When his mouth finally parts from yours, the sound in the room comes crashing down on you. Jimin's whooping in the background, his voice barely drowned by the ruckus everyone else is making. But you can't tear your gaze away from Namjoon to throw them a chiding look. You're too entrapped in the warm honey of his eyes to tear yourself away. You can't decipher wants running his head but you're acutely aware of his fingertips still pressed against your chin. And of how violently your lips buzz, warm with the imprint of his mouth.

But then as quickly as it started it's over. Namjoon's suddenly so far away, gaze turned away from you, glancing at Jimin with a bright smile on his face. You despise how your focus zeros in on his pink lips, heartbeat bruising your ribs.

"Jimin," He chides, the baritone of his voice sending a spark through your system. "Take this stupid plant down." There's a gentle chastisement with that comment, but Jimin laughs it off, a sound that makes you finally turn to glance at your friends. Namjoon brushes past you a second later, like you didn't exist. As if his mouth wasn't on yours a moment ago. Maybe your heart sinks to your stomach but that odd feeling of disappointment vanishes when Jimin slings his free arm around your neck, nudging a shot glass into your stationary hands.

"You should thank me," He slyly mumbles into your ear. You focus on the slamming of the bathroom door behind you instead. You snatch up the shot glass a moment that, head full of emotions you're not sure you can work through at the moment. It feels like you've driven into the middle of thick fog, nothing around you clear, not even the odd ache you feel inside your chest.

Jimin gets a sharp elbow to the ribs when he laughs at your perplexed face, your feelings obviously painted on your features. "Shut up," You hiss, trying to escape from his strong grasp. "I can't believe you did that. Take that fucking plant down."

"Nope, I won't," He retorts, securing his grip and you as he tugs you into the living room. The broad grin on his face is plastered on everyone else too, much to your chagrin. It's hard to ignore their side-eyes and sneaky comments. Even after the familiar burn from the shots Jimin keeps handing to you ebb away, you're left folded into yourself in the corner of the couch, gaze hazy. There's too much sitting on your mind that the alcohol fails to wash away. Maybe that's what sets it all in motion, the restlessness you feel. And perhaps, it's also the fact that your mouth is still tingling. You fingers itch to brush them but you can see Taehyung glancing at you from your peripheral vision. Instead they sit pretty on your lap, head too preoccupied to engage with the shenanigans the rest of your friends are participating in. But you're thoughts spiral quickly, and maybe the drinks hit you too hard because you're profoundly aware of Namjoon's missing presence. The fact that he's not emerged from the bathroom has you frowning, and then your thoughts violently spiral.

Why did he kiss? He could have just walked away the moment Jimin started making noise. Why did he do that? He didn't have to do any of it.

You're up on your feet before your brain can convene with your heart. There's the faint sound of Minhee murmuring your name but you're too worked up to listen, moving towards the bathroom with uncharacteristic speed. It's bold to knock on the bathroom door when you know someone' s in there. For all you know Namjoon could be in the middle of taking a shit but you don't care, knuckles rapping sharply against the word.

"Yes?" You don't expect the asperity in his voice, your gaze faltering on his cold one. He's staring at you hard, a slither of his face peeking through the ajar door.

"Oh." The argument you've conjured up in your mind promptly evaporates, tongue sticking onto the roof of your mouth.

"Yes?" Namjoon tries again, his jaw ticking.

"Are you alright in there? You've been in here for a while," You suddenly blurt out. The reiteration rubs him the wrong way, evident by the way his jaw sets, a glint in his eyes that you've never seen before.

"Peachy," He hisses. You flush, recalling your words with your lip caught between your teeth.

"Sorry, I have something to ask you." The admission has the both of you staring at each other in silence, Namjoon clearly trying to read the implication behind those words.

"And it can't wait?" He asks. You shake your head because it truly can't. You won't have the courage to confront him about without the familiar buzz running through your system. It'll probably just sit in the back of your mind, worn from how often you think about that moment.

"Really?" He cocks an eyebrow, but the door opens ever so slightly.

"Really? Are you doing anything in there?"

"Just thinking. You wanna talk in here?"

You nod again, swallowing down the sudden hesitation you feel creeping up your throat. "Yes," It comes out soft. "Let's talk in there."

Namjoon cocks his head, but then the door is pushed open.

The tiles spin underneath your footsteps and your gaze quickly flickers around the bathroom, searching for what you're not sure. The toilet seat is down like Namjoon had been sitting onto it, contemplating similar to how you were earlier. He chooses to perch himself on the bathroom sink though, leaving you to lean against the opposing wall, eyes lingering on the way his thighs spread out for a second too long.

There's a silence in this space, which Namjoon waits for you to fill. All of a sudden the courage you feel evaporates, replaced by a hesitation that makes you bite your lip, shoulders folding in on themselves. But then he coughs, a noise you know is fake by the way he looks at you. He's impatience. It would be better to just say it, rip the question from your throat. You focus on the light above his head as you say it, too nervous to look directly at his waiting gaze.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I wanted to shut you up."

You blanch, leaning hard against the tiled wall. It's cold against your burning skin, cutting through the heat of your embarrassment. "What? You kissed me because you wanted to shut me up?"

Namjoon shrugs like this isn't a pivotal moment in your nonexistent relationship. "Yes. Why are you asking?" He shifts on the counter, long legs spreading out.

"Why? You can't be going around kissing people because you just want to!"

He laughs, a low sound that makes your heart do a funny thing in your chest. "I don't go around kissing people. I just kissed you. And I know you don't like me. You keep running your mouth whenever I'm around, I just wanted to make you shut up for once. So I kissed you. Where's the fault in that? Blame Jimin's mistletoe, love. Or stop acting like I can't hear everything you say about me."

"I don't run my mouth about you," You splutter. He cocks an eyebrow in disbelief, hands settling on the thick muscle of his thighs that your eyes don't linger at. "And it's not that I don't like you. I just don't..."

"You don't what? Don't like me? It's alright you can say it, love. I don't care."

The glare you give him is venomous. "Maybe if you weren't such a cocky bastard I would like you. And stop calling me love."

His back straightens at that, eyebrows raised in challenge. "You think I'm cocky? You know you're friends with Kim Taehyung, right?"

"I'm fully aware, thank you for the useless observation, Namjoon," You snap back. "But I can tolerate him, you on the other hand..."

"Me on the other hand what?" Namjoon is suddenly upright, meandering towards you like a lion slinking up its prey. Your back hurts from the press of the tiles through the flimsy fabric of your dress. "Say it, love. Why can't you stand me?"

"Look Namjoon, some people just don't get along. That's us and that's fine. I'm required to like you because Taehyung does," You snap back.

He quirks an eyebrow, suddenly rising from the counter. You despise how broad he is, but when he sets closer your throat clamps up. "You're deflecting the question, you know that. You haven't answered why you don't like me. And for someone who doesn't like me you have a lot of questions about my intentions. Shouldn't you be yelling at me instead? Not asking why I kissed you. Or did you want there to be a reason other than convenience as to why I kissed you? Is that what you wanted?"

Your heart beats to the tempo of fleeing bird wings flapping in the wind. He's too close now, invading your space with a curious look in his brown eyes that have you folding into yourself. To see for you're liking. But Namjoon doesn't seem to care, staring at you like he read through your blatant lies with ease.

"You keep asking why I kissed you, I have a question for you now. Why do you care why I kissed you? Did you want me to kiss you?" Namjoon's broad chest is right against yours. Your heart is thumping hard against your rib-cage, threatening to shatter the bones with the force it's slamming into them with. You can't meet his steady gaze, cheeks burning from the sudden scrupulous examination of your character. It makes your skin spark like you've brushed by the touch of a thousand stars. The sparks are violent running through your body to settle deep inside your core. There's a heat collecting between your thighs, that turns into a full-fledged furnace with Namjoon's fingertips settle on your chin, tilting your head upwards. The remembrance of the action makes your heart swoops to your gut.

"Did you like it when I kissed you?" There's a field full of butterflies occupying your stomach, flapping around until you're heady with there presence.

"I-I." He smiles at your stutter, taking a sure step forward that results in his body pressed flush against yours.

"Answer the question."

"I'd like it if you got out of my space," You retort instead. Which is a blatant lie. You're positively vibrating from his close presence, skin a live-wire that exploded with every minute moment of contact. Namjoon must read through that false statement because he doesn't budge. Perhaps the small shiver that bolts through your system gives it away.

"Do you really want that?" He hums. You shiver again and Namjoon's lips spread into a glittering smile. The fingertips on your jaw are suddenly firm, ticking your head upwards until your eyes are glued on his. "Would you like it if I kissed you again?"

Your breath is caught in your throat, heart-thumping frenetically inside your chest. The air simmers with static, the humming your blood drowning every opposing thought sprouting in your mind. It's the way that he's looking at you that has you leaning forward on instinct. Dark honey eyes that streel you in, capturing you in the warmth of his gaze. You don't know when your eyes flutter closed. That happens naturally, like the feeling of Namjoon's wide palm gently cupping your chin. The moment your noses bump against each-other, mouths searching, your body bursts, like a burning star, suddenly falling in exhaustion. He still tastes like eggnog, a sweat cream coating his mouth. Your lips part fast, eager to feel him on your tongue. The choked groan that slips from your mouth falls into his easily. There's a buzzing on your lips with every bruising graze of his mouth there. Time falls away as it did before, every fibre of your hazy being focusing on the sure press of Namjoon on your mouth. It's both hard and soft at the same time, light brushes of his lips on you followed by firm kisses that leave you reeling, desperately wanting more. You're not sure when you began clutching the front of his sweater but you're clinging onto him now like he's you're the only lifeline, keeping you afloat from drowning in this vast sea of emotion.

When you finally part, breaths melting into each-other, Namjoon's staring at you with those wide brown eyes that make you lean forward again, your nose brushing against his. He sighs softly, involuntarily pressing another kiss on your lips. Your heart swoops int your gut when he does that, the drunken haze you're lost in turning you giddy.

"Happy now?" You murmur out, noting the way Namjoon's gaze flickers to your lips. "Since you've shut me up."

"You're still talking," He responds. His hand falls from your face, suddenly palming the span of your thighs. "What me to shut you up again?"

You nod quickly, attributing your compliance to how drunk you are. Perhaps the warmth emitting from his hands grasping the back of your thighs contributes to that as well, but know is not the time to analyse the reason behind your behaviour.

When he kisses you again, you dissolve, putty in his hands as his mouth works you open. There's deep groan floating from the back of his throat when you trail your hands down his front, fingertips admiring the broad expanse of his chest. It elicits a sharp spark in your gut, one that has your legs automatically falling open so that Namjoon can mould his body against yours. It doesn't take much to notice how hard he is, bulge nudging against your stomach. The sheer size of it has you moaning into his mouth, hands dropping south with need.

But Namjoon halts you, mouth red from your lips when he draws away. His heart thumping underneath your fingertips as he peppers a myriad of kisses along the hollow of your neck. You cave under them, sighing with every warm print of Namjoon's mouth across your blazing skin. The sound must affect him because you can feel him twitch in his pants, a minute motion that drenches your under in moments. And the Namjoon is pulling you from the wall, twisting you around as he backs you up against the skin, your bodies still clinging to each other desperately.

The counter is cold underneath your bare thighs but that's swiftly replaced by his warm palms clasping as your skin. He knocks your legs apart swiftly, lining your burning core with his crotch in a manner that has the both of gasping as your mouths meet once more, tongues eagerly melting into one. There's a quick roll against your hips that leaves you breathless, his cock nudging right against your clothed core. You shouldn't be this wet, but you can feel it leaking through your panties, underwear coated with your arousal as his hips rock into you.

He shifts away, swearing softly under his breath, you follow him, the sudden space between your legs feeling unbearable. There's a glint in his eyes when he picks up on your neediness, the grip on your thighs squeezing hard.

"Patience, love."

You huff cheeks hot from your embarrassment. "I said don't call me-"

He's on his knees so fast that you reel from it, the sudden nudge of his nose right against your core making your words stick in your throat. There's a gruff laugh at your sudden silence floating from his lips that vibrates against your core, your gaze stagnant on the image of his head between your thighs.

"Sorry," he murmurs, breath tickling your skin. There's a tremor echoing through your body that you refuse to acknowledge when he tilts his head upwards, pretty brown eyes coy. "Can I do this?"

"Yes, yes you can." Even if you wanted to deny it there's too strong of an ache in your core for you to refuse Namjoon. Not when he's on his knees for you, placing light kisses along your inner thigh that leave you clutching the counter edge hard, walls clenching on nothing.

He hums, pleased with the urgency lingering in your voice. But in actuality, he wouldn't have to know what do to do if you said now. His dick hurts from how hard it is right now, pressing violently through the fabric of his jeans. That's why he'd be hiding in the bathroom in the first place, attempting to get rid of the tent in his pants that he popped from kissing you. Kissing you, under a damn mistletoe. It's like his body regressed to being a horny hormonal teenager again. Maybe it was because of the dress you're wearing, stupidly short for the cold weather raging outside but you'd justified the choice of your outfit when Jimin had prodded by insisted that the cabin was obliviously warmer. And that had left Namjoon to try and not gawk at the outline of your body whenever you moved in front of him. It slides up your thighs and he knows you hadn't noticed that because you would have yanked it down. Instead, you'd left him to ruminate how nice it would be to leave that dress on the floor where it belonged, while you were under him.

Even though he reason his behaviour by insisting he would like to keep you quiet, that's not true. The sound of your voice does things to him, even when you're complaining about him all the damn time. He's aware of your stance on him, although he's not quite sure where it spurred from. But he couldn't care less. The countless arguments you'd shared made his day sometimes. You're so adamant, even over the slightest things. It would be infuriating if he didn't admire our passion. Or found the way your cheeks flushed when you were angry cute. Sometimes he started them on purpose, just to see your face heat up when he played the devil's advocate. It was fun, teasing you. But sometimes his mind would wander, eyes lingering on your lips and the sharp cut words that flew from them. Would you be so adamant with his cock deep inside your cunt? What sounds would you make if he fucked you senseless into the sheets?

But those had just been fantasies, locked away in the crevices of his mind. But today had been different. Very different.

When he'd kissed you and you'd just folded over, melted against his mouth like you needed him. Wanted him. It'd set off something in his brain. He'd never popped a boner so quick in his life.

Even now, when he swipes a tentative lick across your clothed cunt, it takes him by surprise how your legs shudder around his head, your wetness damp on the fabric.

"Fuck, you're wet." He can't help but comment on it, gaze captured by the sheen coating your thighs.

"Great observation, genius," You retort with an irritated huff. And just like that Namjoon can feel it creeping back, the defiance you carry like a second skin. He likes it, how sharp you can be, but underneath that he knows how compliant you can be too. And he wants to see that side right, wants you squirming underneath him, the only thing falling from your lips his name.

You panties come off so quickly that you're left speechless, stunned when Namjoon doesn't hesitate to part your fold with his tongue, lapping at your wetness like a starved man. It's quick but deliberate, the steady swipes of his tongue along your core, nose pressed against the apex of your cunt as he spreads you apart. It leaves you grasping at his hair, fingernails scraping against his skull as his tongue fucks you open, steadily toying with your dripping hole in a manner that has your thighs seizing up. It's not your fault when he latches his lips around your clit, licking with purpose, that you keen. A sound that has never come out of your mouth, ever. But it fills the bathroom, bouncing off the walls as your brain short-circuits on the feeling of Namjoon unravelling you with his mouth, his wide palms squeezing at your thighs with every jolt of your hips against his mouth

"Namjoon! Fffuck, could you - fuck!" There's too much going on but your brain can only take in the sound of Namjoon lapping at your core. It's obscene, the sound of his mouth on your cunt. There's slick coating your thighs with every press of Namjoon's lips against your folds. You don't know why you're this wet. It's odd, even for you. Yet, there's a pit in your gut when he glances up, mouth shiny with your arousal and his eyes dark.

"Yes?" Another kiss against your cunt, tongue dipping into your eager hole a moment later. You clench desperately around nothing, a sudden heat burning beneath your skin.

"Fingers," You murmur, throat clogged with moans you're holding back. "You can use your fingers."

He smiles against your cunt, drawing away to look at you. "You want my fingers, love? Want your pretty pussy stuffed with something?"

The 'something' catches your attention because you'd loved for him to flip you over and fuck your senseless right now. But that would change things, your entire dynamic would be shattered. Which it already has been, the cracks from this situation running deep. There's no way you can look at Namjoon again without imagining his mouth covered in your wetness. But having him fuck you, that would be something else entirely. So you settle for his fingers, nodding quickly when he grins at you, even though your aching to feel him stretch you out with his dick. You know it would hurt, he felt massive against your core. But it would be nice, to be stuffed full, fucked hard until you could feel him between your legs tomorrow.

That's not to say Namjoon doesn't have large fingers. He's big all over, a bulky broad man with wide hands that settle on the inside of your thigh, fingertips tracing your eager hole slowly.

It takes him by surprise, the little gasp you let out when he finally slides inside, finger covered in your slick. But then his mind registers how tight and warm you are around him, squeezing so desperately that his mind blanks. His dick jumps in his pants, already imagining how good you'd feel around his cock, wet walls clinging onto him desperately. You swear when he adds a second finger a moment later, a slight sting around your entrance that ebbs away. His fingers are bigger than yours. Much bigger. And they fuck you open with a vigour that has you groaning into the heavy air, legs spread for his vantage. When his mouth returns to your clit, licking with intent, you squeal. The noise has him groaning against your cunt, fingers curved inside you as he searches for that spot inside you, tongue lapping up your wetness. He gets want he wants a moment later, your walls clenching around his fingers hard as a shudder travels through your body, thighs trembling around his head.

"Namjoon! There, there, there. Fuck, pleassee!" You can feel it already, the fire in your gut blazing dangerously as his fingers slam into you. He sighs against you, pressing kisses along your thighs that have you shuddering underneath him again. You're close, the coil in your core threatening to snap with every sure press of his fingers inside you.

"I've got you," He murmurs into your skin. "Cum on my fingers, love. I know you want to."

And you do, desperately so, from the way your walls cling onto his fingers. When his tongue returns to your clit, soft little licks that make you jolt against his mouth you nearly do, the heat in your gut spreading fast along every nerve.

But then there's a sharp rapping on the door.

Namjoon doesn't pull away, but his mouth drops from your clit, the fire in your core dying down instantly. His fingers stay lodged in your cunt, covered with your arousal as the both of you stare at the door, mortified.

"Um." It's Taehyung, that little bitch. "Could the both of you keep it down?" And then there's barely stifled laughter filtering through the wood. You recognise Jeongguk's laugh right away, ringing loud among the giggles of your friends. You hate them. The whole lot of them. Drunken idiots.

When you glance at Namjoon you immediately think the moment is dead. He draws away from your cunt, fingers coated in your wetness and his tan cheeks tinged rouge. But then he slips them his mouth as he rises, leaning into your space, his hard bulge pressed into your open thighs. You watch him clean them off, his eyes locked on yours like your friends aren't falling over themselves outside the bathroom door. The heat in your gut sparks again, quick with the way it consumes you.

"You taste good," He hums, pressing his mouth onto yours again. You don't miss the way his dick twitches when you sigh into it, mind erasing the presence of your friends when his tongue slips into your mouth. There's an emptiness inside you that you vehemently despise, an ache to be filled that overwhelms you. If you don't cum on Namjoon's dick you'll be irritated for the rest of the night. You know it.

Perhaps he reads your mind through the kiss because when he draws away his eyes are dark with want.

"We could go upstairs?" He suggests, fingertips grazing the naked skin of your thighs.

"Yeah," You agree, the desperation to fucked driving your resolution. "We could go upstairs. Will you fuck me if we go upstairs?"

He cocks an eyebrow, smile coy. "Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?" But he's pressing closer into you, eliminating what meagre space was left between your bodies promptly.

"What do you think, genius?"

When he kisses you again, you doubt that you'll even make it upstairs.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 4 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

 July twelfth dawns like any other day, Annabeth wrapped up in Percy’s sheets. She’s spent significantly more nights in his bed than she’s spent in her own apartment over the last two months, but who could blame her? This bed is literally to die for. Therapeutic mattress for the fucking win.

 Percy, to her greatest confusion and chagrin, is a morning person. Well, actually, what he is is someone who runs on very little sleep for three weeks at a time, before crashing headfirst into his bed for thirteen hours. It is a decidedly unhealthy way to live, but it means that Annabeth is used to waking up alone. The nights where she gets to wake up with Percy are the nicer ones, sure, but his presence is suffused in every corner of the room, his smell wafting from every piece of sweaty clothing tossed haphazardly about the floor, so much so that she never feels like she is truly waking up alone.

 Gross? A little. But the smell is oddly sexy, too, especially after he’s just come home from a run, all wet and glistening and flushed, panting hard--

 Ahem.

 The point is, when Annabeth rolls out of bed in one of Percy’s shirts (the one that says “Do You Even Lift, Bro?” with an image of a male dancer raising his partner, courtesy of one Jason Grace) and stumbles into the kitchen for one of Percy’s patented brunch specials, it’s a pretty normal morning. What catches her off guard is the spread: eggs and bacon, obviously, with fruit and granola and yogurt, but also an enormous tray of delicious, flaky croissants, perfectly crescent shaped, with little bowls of every condiment imaginable, multiple flavors of jams and preserves and Nutellas.

 “Bounjour, mademoiselle!” Percy says cheerfully from the oven, perfectly accented, bending over to take out a tray. “Ça va bien?”

 “Um… bonjour…” She pokes a croissant experimentally, and is equally delighted and dismayed to find that it is just as flaky as advertised.

 “Take a seat, these ones just need to cool for a bit and then we can get started.”

 Spring in his step, he opens the refrigerator, taking out the most beautiful cake Annabeth has ever seen in her entire life. Perfectly round, paper white, with little blue borders piped around the edge, but it’s got Annabeth feeling like she’s just been doused in cold water. “How the hell did you know it was my birthday?”

 Immediately, she knows it was the exact wrong thing to say. His eyes go wide as the saucers on the table, mouth open in shock. “It’s your birthday?”

 Goddammit. “Um.”

 “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 Because birthdays were inherently a dumb concept? Because her father had to be reminded of her birthday more often than not? Because her mother had stopped sending her birthday cards after she turned thirteen, calling them a waste of money and resources? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, dipping her finger into the strawberry jam. “I guess I just didn’t think it was a big deal. Ooh, does this have rosemary in it?”

 “Annabeeeeth,” he whines, plopping the cake onto the kitchen island. “I can’t believe you! I love birthdays.”

 “Well,” she flounders, attempting to duck his sudden attention, “what were you originally celebrating? I don’t usually think of cake as a brunch option.”

 He raises an eyebrow, not at all impressed with her attempts to change the topic, but he answers dutifully, “Originally, we were celebrating me being one month cig-free--”

 “Percy!” Annabeth gasps, clapping her hands delightedly, and a little exaggeratedly. “That’s great!”

 “But,” he continues, “now we’re definitely celebrating your birthday instead.”

 “Oh, come on!”

 “Nuh uh,” he chides, grabbing his phone and beginning to type something, “I am asking Nico to pick you up a birthday card as we speak.”

 Oh. “Nico’s coming?”

 “Well, this is his apartment. Part of the deal is that I make him breakfast. I think he’s bringing his boyfriend.”

 “Is… anyone else coming?”

 “Just a couple of people, my friends Frank, Grover, Rachel… I invited Hazel and Thalia, too, but I think Hazel told me she was busy, and you know Thalia. If it’s not at a crappy dive bar then the odds of her showing up are virtually none.” Percy pauses in his text, fixing her with an odd look. “You really don’t want anyone to know, do you?”

 How easily he reads her is a little disconcerting, and also a thought that she just can’t handle right now. “I just don’t like people making a big deal out of it. You know, it’s just another day. I’d much rather celebrate you quitting.”

 He holds her gaze for a beat, before smiling, finishing typing out whatever he was doing on his phone. “Yes, I am officially quitting. Cigarettes are terrible for you, and I do not have the money to keep up the habit. So, I swear,” he holds up a hand, “No cigarettes, no weed, no vaping. Not that I ever vaped before.”

 “Oh, never?” Annabeth teases.

 “Not ever.” He leans in, grinning that devastating grin that is seriously detrimental to her health. “You could not pay me enough.”

 “Good.” She goes to meet him, pressing her mouth to his, sweetly and chastely, but swiftly turning deeper, almost against their higher brain functions, like they only exist to be here in this moment, lips against lips, tongue and tongue. She’s always hated the taste of cigarettes, she prefers edibles to blunts, and anyone who vapes is automatically dropped from her list of potential partners… but she’s never minded the taste of ash on Percy’s tongue. It was just another part of him, another facet of the whole sexy package.

 Now, though, she has the full taste of him, unfettered and unfiltered, his morning coffee and his morning breath. It is disgusting, but again, oddly thrilling. This is Percy, stripped down and divested of all the trappings of blue lipstick and tight pants. She wonders what he thinks when he sees her like this, messy haired, face and ears empty of metal, last night’s mascara smudged all around her eyes. Given the way that he deliberately threads her hair through his fingers, winding the frizzy curls around him, pulling her close enough that the pristine cake is in danger from some serious smushing, she thinks he likes it just as much.

 Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which perspective, either Percy’s, Annabeth’s, Nico’s, or the cake’s, their little impromptu makeout session has cold water dumped on it before they can end up doing it on the kitchen island. The sound of someone unlocking the front door is almost comically loud, and they break apart, equally red and flushing.

 “Gross,” says Nico di Angelo. “No heterosexuality allowed in my kitchen.”

 “Take that back, you biphobic ass,” Percy says. “I have never been heterosexual in my life.”

 “I’m not biphobic, I just don’t want to see you getting it on on my marble countertops.”

 “Speak for yourself,” chimes in Will, setting down a grocery bag right on the spot which would have been ground zero. “Hi, Annabeth.”

 “Hey, Will.”

 “Nice of you to join us today,” he says, as though he doesn’t see her here all the time.

 She offers her assistance in cooking or setting up, knowing full well that she will be firmly rebuffed--domestics are not her strong suit, by any stretch of the imagination--and is sent away with an iced coffee that Will has so thoughtfully bought for her instead of the birthday card she was dreading.

 Soon after, the party is in full swing.

 Well, she uses the term party loosely. It is fairly intimate, even with Nico’s enormous apartment making everything smaller. They have assembled an odd amalgamation of people: “You already know Nico,” Percy says, indicating the goth prince next to, “and Will,” his boyfriend, the perpetually cheery med student, next to, “and this is Frank,” a large, physically imposing man with a shy smile, next to, “Rachel,” a red-headed girl who looked like she just walked out of a paint shower, all making space for, “and my buddy Grover,” the guy in crutches who had immediately dropped into the single, out-of-decor, but extremely comfortable-looking loveseat Nico had placed nearest to the bathroom. All told, they look like the brochure for a community college who really, really wants to publicize how diverse their student body is, but with a kind of natural chemistry and camaraderie that those kids on that brochure could only dream of. “Everyone, this is Annabeth.”

 They greet her, each giving a limp wave.

 Then Percy leaves to attend to his brunch spread, but not before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She can feel all eyes on them, hot and burning.

 Silence.

 “So,” Annabeth says, as awkward as a freshman in an orientation mixer. “What’s up?”

 “Your hair is amazing,” says Rachel.

 Hers is crusted with paint, a deep red that turns pink against the orange in the light, a close cousin to Annabeth’s, which is in dire need of a touchup, curls thrown in disarray by Percy’s grasping fingers. “Thanks, I--”

 “So how do you two know each other?”

 Annabeth blinks. “Friend of Thalia’s,” she says. “You?”

 “Used to do ballet together,” Rachel says, brusque, efficient. “Frank, too.”

 Frank waves again.

 A beat passes.

 Annabeth looks to Grover, who watches, bemused. “You, too, I take it?”

 Another second. Then he laughs, weird, but hearty, a joyful bleat. “Oh, sure,” he says. “I’m a regular Baryshnikov.”

 She can almost feel the room relaxing, heaving a sigh after holding its breath.

 “Are you with NYCB, too?” she turns to Frank, shoving her hands in her pockets, fingers curling around the fabric there.

 Shaking his head, he swallows his orange juice. “I mostly do modern and hip hop, now, music videos and stuff.”

 Objectively, she knows that you don’t have to be skinny as a rake or bodybuilding champion to dance, but Frank is neither of these, a huge, sweet-faced guy with a healthy layer of fat around his face and torso--a strict counterpart to Percy, who could give the Belvedere Apollo a run for its money. “Have I seen you in anything?” Not that she really watches music videos, but she figures it’s the polite thing to ask.

 “Um, maybe,” he shrugs, embarrassed. “I’ve been lucky enough to work with some really big people.” Though he offers no further details.

 “Working on anything cool?” She asks, doing her best not to cajole.

 He nods. “Percy and I have a thing coming out probably in the next month or so, with--ah, well. Can’t say.”

 “Tease,” Rachel grumbles, tossing back her mimosa. “I’ve been trying to get the secret out of him for months.”

 Frank smiles, secretive and a little smug. “Sorry. You’ll find out along with everyone else.”

 “Do you work together a lot?” Annabeth asks. She had thought that Percy was strictly ballet--though, she supposes dancers do crossover work more often these days, if only for the money.

 “Not as much as we used to, sadly,” he replies. “We actually lived together in Paris for a few years while he was contracted with the opera before I decided to come back home. Vancouver,” he adds at her unspoken question.

 “Bit of a hike, from Vancouver to New York,” says Grover.

 Frank shrugs. “I was in town anyway, and I haven’t seen Percy in about a year.”

 Annabeth frowns, doing some mental math. If Frank hadn’t seen him in two years, then that meant… that Percy had been alone in Paris all that time. The man thrives off of friendship and social interaction; no wonder he was jonesing to come back to America.

 “Remind me again how long you two were together?” Rachel asks, red hair bouncing as she cocks her head. A jolt goes down Annabeth’s spine, appraising Frank in an entirely new light.

 “On and off for about two years,” says Frank, thoughtful. “But I just lived with him to save money. The rent in Paris sucks.”

 “And you were the best roommate I ever had,” Percy says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Clean, good cook, better kisser--”

 Frank shoves him away.

 “You’ve only ever had one other roommate, other than Nico or your mom,” Grover points out. “That one guy when you first moved overseas--Frodo? Fedora?”

 “Fyodor,” Percy corrects. “He was terrible. I didn’t know any Russian, he didn’t know any English, and our French wasn’t good enough to actually hash it out, so he just gave me a permanent cold shoulder.”

 “Kind of a low bar, don’t you think?”

 “And there was my roommate in Boston.”

 Sharply, she turns her head. “You lived in Boston?”

 “Yeah, for like a year. I told you I was with Boston Ballet for a little bit, didn’t I?”

 Pretty sure he didn’t. She almost opens her mouth to retort, to ask when and compare notes, to mention that she lived in Boston, too, before remembering who she is with, swallowing her words.

 “Fyodor hated you,” Frank hums, reentering the circle. He’d wandered away and returned with a croissant, dipped in chocolate.

 “Trust, me, the feeling was mutual.”

 “It must have been,” Frank says, “because I saw your new apartment after he kicked you out--that place made a shoebox look luxurious.”

 Something in Percy’s face almost falls when Frank says that. Annabeth is sure there is a story there.

 But Rachel laughs. “Annabeth, you have no idea. It was a      Chambre de bonne    ,” she says, exaggerating the accent, “which might sound super fancy and French and cool, but trust me, it wasn’t at all. It was this size.” She slaps the kitchen island, a little too hard, her third mimosa making her loose-limbed and loud. “When I visited for Thanksgiving that year      I     had to pay for the heating bill, because Percy basically refused.”

 “It was cozy,” Percy mutters, suddenly very preoccupied with the half a croissant on his plate.

 “It was not.” Rachel says. “It was sad and cold and small.”

 Nico looks interested, but not nearly as boisterous as Rachel or Frank, “Was that the place…”

 “Ye,” Percy cuts him off, “Yes it was.” He smiles, Stepford-strained. “But, then Frank came to town, and so did his grandmother’s money.” He slaps Frank on the back. “And I got a bathtub.”

 “I still can’t believe that a ballet dancer lived anywhere for two years without a place to soak,” Frank says, shuddering.

 “I can’t believe you waited until Frank got to Paris to get yourself a sugar daddy,” Grover quips. Percy throws a grape at him. Grover, to her immense surprise, manages to catch it in his mouth.

 Annabeth can’t really be impressed. This is the second time someone has brought up Percy and Frank having a history. Something hot and angry curls in her stomach. But Percy is laughing.

 Rachel laughs too. “Oh, he didn’t wait,” she says. “He had a bevy of sugar mommies for trips to Ibiza and Moscow and Beijing.”

 “It was Tokyo,” Percy says, “and they weren’t my Sugar Mamas.” He turns to Annabeth, sheepish, but not actually shameful. “They weren’t. Honestly.”

 “Uh huh.”

 “They were mostly Kym’s friends, and sometimes we’d go out when they were in town, and if we had fun, they’d invite me wherever they were going next. And if I didn’t have to work, I’d go with.”

 “I have heard rumors,” Will says, popping his head in, Nico attached to his hip, “of Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous of Europe. Is it true?”

 “Yes,” Grover and Rachel say at once.

 “Do you want to hear about that, Will?” Percy asks, “Or would you rather hear about the summer Nico came to stay with me and Frank before he started college, and slept with every single dancer in Europe except Frank?”

 Nico waves him off. “Only because you were already sleeping with him, cause he was your sugar daddy. Not like I needed the money.”

 “It wasn’t like that.” Frank says.

 “And now that we’ve aired all of my dirty laundry,” says Percy, “I need to borrow Annabeth for a second.” Gently, but with force, he tugs her arm, his other hand around her waist, directing her where to go like she’s one of his dance partners. Usually, she minds--a lot. She’s not about to let anyone, let alone a man, tell her where to go--but, you know, it’s Percy. Alone time with him is never a bad thing.

 He pulls her into the hallway, shoving his hand into his pocket. “What’s up?” she asks.

 “So.” Mouth open, he pauses for a moment, just… looking at her. His eyes are soft, warm like the first day of spring.

 “What?”

 “Uh, nothing,” he shakes himself a little, pulling his hand out. “Sorry, I just--I know you said you didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of your birthday…”

 Oh, no. She braces herself for the worst.

 Uncurling his fingers, he reveals his present for her.

 “It’s… a pin?”

 “Yeah,” he smiles. “Remember when I took my sister to the Met a few weeks ago? They were having that thing on Egyptian jewelry? Well, of course we had to stop in the gift shop, and I saw this and just--you know, thought of you.”

 It is a pin--one of those lapel pins that more often than not are added to a collection usually displayed on a backpack. This pin is a silhouette she recognizes instantly: the Parthenon, its columns and angles rendered in sterling silver, little grooves dug into the metal in an approximation of the fluting.

 “Wow,” she breathes. “Thank you.”

 “It was nothing.” His ears are pink. “Happy birthday.”

 And then he hugs her.

 After a moment, she hugs him back.

 It’s amazing how she can have had sex with someone so many times, but feel so awkward giving them a hug.

 “I didn’t, um, tell anyone else,” he says, pulling back. His hands linger on her shoulders, thumb tapping at the base of her neck. “But, I kept meaning to give this to you, so, you know, now was as good a time as any, yeah?”

 “I love it,” she says, honestly. Which surprises her. “Thank you.”

 She slips it into her own pocket, not even minding the sharp corners.

 When they return, Nico has already cut into the cake. “You were taking too long,” he snips.

 It really is delicious. Much, much later, Percy sends her home with a sweet, soft kiss, and one of the last remaining slices, rather than staying for dinner.

 Percy is the kind of boy who goes to his mother’s for dinner every week. She had been invited, but also threatened with the promise of another cake, and his ten year old sister, who would “love to make you a present.”

 It sounded nice, but Annabeth knew when she wasn’t really wanted, and so she demurred, citing a need for some solo downtime.

 She hasn’t heard from Thalia in, like, four days, which meant she had probably gotten a short-term gig. (“You’re lucky, she’s had Jason paying for her phone the whole time you’ve known her. Before that, she was almost impossible to get ahold of.”) Piper would take her out to dinner tomorrow, “just because.” But they would both know it wasn’t true.

 So, to refresh and relax after a long, harrowing day of socializing, Annabeth goes home.

 Or at least to her apartment.

 It doesn’t have a doorman, or the views, or the room, like Nico’s place. Nor does it have any of the people, the energy, the joy. Her furniture doesn’t fill it up. The most appetizing thing in her kitchen are the granola bars Percy had made the week before, or maybe the brownies he made four days ago. She sets her to-go bag of cake and croissants down next to them, a smorgasboard of Percy’s culinary prowess.

 Despite the long hours, her clothes still smell a little like last night’s bar, and her skin has a faint patina of dried sex sweat, and smudged makeup.

 She doesn’t want to start leaving things at Percy’s place--don’t want him to get the wrong idea--but she also occasionally needs to be able to touch up her eyeliner. She’s either going to have to find a bag that isn’t embarrassing to carry, or surreptitiously shove some eyeliner and lipstick next to the condoms in Percy’s nightstand next time they have a sleepover. Or raid Nico’s bathroom.

 Regardless, she needs a wash something bad.

 As she scrubs down, she does her best to focus on the lemon scent of her body wash, and not Percy’s perfect form, dripping with water. She tries to visualize her last trip to Sephora, not blowing him under the hot water.

 It doesn’t really work, so she gets herself clean and gets herself off and considers just spending the rest of the day naked, in case the mood strikes her again. But it's only 5PM, and she doesn’t have Percy to cook her some dinner tonight, so she sucks it up and puts on some pants.

 When she had visited Boston for work a couple of months back, Alex had insisted on taking her shopping, complaining that her sister and her friend Mallory didn’t understand Versace quite like Annabeth did, and that Blitz sucked all the fun out of fashion, anyway. Then, she had bullied Annabeth into buying a set of sweats, claiming it was because of the Grecian patterns, but probably because she thought Annabeth in that much purple would be funny.

 But eventually, she had wheedled, cajoled, and threatened Annabeth into buying a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. After deciding to forgo a bra, because that is just one more area she has always fallen short in, she shoves on a School of Architecture underneath them. The crimson clashes terribly with the lavender and seafoam, but she kind of likes it. Piper would call it “artfully nauseating,” or something.

 Besides, no one is going to see her but her delivery guy. And if someone did see her, someone like Thalia or Percy, well, the clashing colors would be the least of her worries.

 She is folded into her couch, wedged into the corner, very much      not     looking up Paris Ballet clips from the past few years, trying to spot Percy in the background, when there is a knock on her door.

 Not for the first time, she curses her lack of doorman--and then frowns. Who even knows where she lives?

 Piper and Leo? Magnus and Alex?

 Has she already ordered food and just forgotten?

 Is memory loss a side effect of a SK-II mask no one had warned her about?

 Tentatively, she creeps towards the door, opening it slowly. If this were a horror movie, the door would creak open, revealing the villain cast in the shadows of the hallway, holding his weapon of choice.

 She sighs.

 The man is only a few inches taller than her, and dressed impeccably in a t-shirt and jeans that probably cost half a year of her rent-- a big critique coming from her, since she wears a month of her own rent as sweats. His blond hair is impeccably combed, his tennis shoes impeccably white, and his smile the most charming thing you can find this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

 “Happy birthday, girly,” he says, giving her an awkward, one-armed hug, trying to avoid getting any of her facemask on his shirt.

 “What are you doing here?”

 “It's your birthday,” he reminds her, holding up the bag. “I told you I’d stop by last week.”

 Had he? Maybe, and she’d just been too drunk or hung over to really process it. But maybe he’d also meant to, and then failed to follow through. Luke has a bit of a nasty habit of treating his intentions as the same as his actions. His intentions are good, usually, but it means that he often ignored the actual actions. Like how his intention was to support his mother in the best nursing home in the northeast, but his action was to work with Saturn, a very shady hedge fund, to facilitate it. Or how his intention was to have someone at a stuffy party to talk to, but his action was dressing up Annabeth as his arm candy because none of Piper’s models would call him back anymore. He hasn’t asked her to do that since, like, February though, thankfully.

 “Sorry,” Annabeth says. “I just… you know I don’t like my birthday.”

 He also has a bit of a habit of ignoring her distaste in a really blatant way.

 He’s a little like Percy that way, actually.

 She’d only ever told Luke about her birthday back in those embarrassing freshman days, when she’d thought he looked as good on paper as any Harvard MBA student possibly could, with a devastating smile to match. She’d been so convinced that he would be the right boyfriend that might finally get her mother’s approval, and she figured that her future husband should know her birthday.

 “Come in,” she says, reaching for the bag, but he shakes his head and brushes past her, dumping his black back on the coffee table. Graciously, he doesn’t look at her as he starts to empty out its contents, giving her an opportunity to dart back to her bathroom and peel off her facemask. Luke would forgive designer sweats, but they aren't at the “just chilling in a facemask” level of a relationship.

 When she returns, there is a small assembly line arranged on her coffee table: a stack of paper plates, a carton of Haagen Daas, forks and spoons, and a Milk Bar cake, all wrapped in its box.

 “Is Milk Bar still the ‘it’ thing?” she asks. “With locations all over the country, I figured it would be passé by now.”

 “I know it’s your favorite,” Luke says. “I don’t always have to choose the most popular thing.”

 Milk Bar had been her favorite, that is true, right up until she’d started fucking Percy Jackson, and eating his food.

 “Thanks,” she says, cutting herself a slice, and scooping herself some ice cream.

 “That’s all you’re going to get?” he asks, cutting himself a sliver.

 “I have had so much cake today,” she says. Milk Bar really isn’t as good as Percy's, but it reminds her of birthdays in high school, waiting for her mother to visit, sneaking out when she inevitably didn’t, convincing the local bad boy to buy her some alcohol. She eats it, eagerly.

 Luke’s jaw drops. “You had a birthday cake? By choice? On your birthday?”

 She shakes her head, swallowing. “No, I was at a party with some friends. They didn’t even know it was my birthday,” Until she had stupidly revealed it. Whatever. She just has to make sure he’s been excised from her life by this time next year. And maybe freeze some of his baked goods beforehand.

 Luke doesn’t let her go through with her evening plans, which consisted basically of watching      Legally Blonde     for the gazillionth time while she slurped down some pierogies, but he capitulates to      Roman Holiday    , helping her put away the leftover cake and ice cream. “Thanks,” she says, when the movie was done. “I’m glad you came over. “

 No one ever comes over. Thalia is her best friend, but Thalia would have questions about how she could afford the place, Piper never understood why she’d moved out here at all, and Percy… Percy was irrelevant. There is no reason for him to come here.

 “I always like to see my best girl.” He smiles at her, charming and rogueish.

 “If all those models you keep trying to date know that your best girl is an architect who lives in Brooklyn who you actually feed, that’s probably why they don’t want to date you back.”

 Luke laughs, leaning over and knocking his shoulder against her own. “None of those girls could hold a candle to you.”

 “God, you must be a terrible boyfriend.”

 “Probably,” he agrees, sitting up and stretching, before reaching back to the bag he brought the cake in. “After all, you are the one I bring all the nice presents. But I think I’m a pretty good friend.”

 He takes out a box, burnt orange, a black ribbon wrapped around it, because Luke is nothing if not predictable.

 Annabeth sighs internally, quietly reminding herself that money is how Luke shows his love. And that she is wearing Versace sweats.

 “Herm  é  s,” she says, pulling off the ribbon. “This box looks too small for a Birkin.”

 “Do you want a Birkin?” he asks. “I can get you a Birkin.”

 “I probably don’t need a Birkin,” she admits. Though maybe it would be nice to have one in her closet, if her mom ever calls her up for lunch again. She could show up with a Birkin and an eyebrow ring. Sweet revenge.

 Luke waves a hand. “It doesn't matter if you need one, just if you want one.”

 Inside the box is a scarf, the silk soft and smooth between her fingers, a pleasing gradient of oranges and reds and pinks and corals. When she unfolds it, laying it out before her, she finds a sharp, geometric design, columns stacked together like skyscrapers. Luke obviously had her in mind when he picked it out.

 “Thanks,” she says. It’s pretty--perfect for an ambitious young architect with two degrees from Harvard who had moved to New York City with an offer from one of the best architecture firms in the world. And Annabeth has no idea where she could possibly want or need to wear it.

 “Hey,” Luke says, suddenly soft, “don’t cry.”

 Shocked, she reaches her hand up to her face. It’s wet.

 Luke is probably the only person she will let herself cry in front of. She’d spent three years doing that in college. He’d seen her through heartbreak and hangovers, guiding her through it all like an aloof big brother.

 “I’m okay,” she hiccups, wiping her nose.

 He hands her a napkin.

 Annabeth blows her nose, wet and gross. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m alright.”

 “You sure?” He sounds sincere, but she catches him glancing down at his wrist.

 “Do you have a date?”

 “I…” At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “Just some guys at work. You can come, if you want.”

 It could be fun. Hanging out with Luke can be fun. Get a little lit, take a business bro home, screw his brains out, send him on his way. But there’s an unspoken dress code to these things, and Annabeth just doesn’t wear Louboutins anymore. And the idea of fucking a business bro just… doesn’t hold any appeal right now.

 “No thanks,” she nods, using the clean edge of the napkin to wipe her eyes. “I am going to watch      The Search For Elle Woods    , and you're going to strike out with some models, and everyone is going to be happy.”

 “You really are so mean to me.” Luke complains, as she walks him to the door, before giving her another hug. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

 “I am.” She is different and new, but Luke is still her friend. She had survived. It would be okay.

 “Well, call me if you need something.” He kisses her cheek, sweetly, without any heat. Perfectly platonic. “I love you very much. Happy birthday.”

 “Thanks,” she says, “I’ll see you around.”

 “Always.” And he is gone.

 She folds the scarf, going to put it in the dresser in her room, shoving it among a handful of accessories, gathering dust. She realizes, with a start, that she’s left a week’s worth of clothes all over her room on the way to the shower, and, with a sigh of adulthood, and the knowledge that if she doesn’t follow the ADHD gods and pick them up now, they’ll be there for weeks, languishing on her floor and stinking up the place, she goes to at least move them into her hamper. She rifles through ripped jeans and band t-shirts and black socks as she goes, checking each for anything like discarded change or a bus pass she doesn’t want to wash.

 She shakes out the pants she’d worn out the night before, and therefore the entire day until she’d gotten home. There is a rather unfortunate stain on the knee that she can’t quite parse--ketchup? Chocolate?

 Then she reaches into the pockets, touching metal, and she suddenly remembers her other birthday present for the day.

 Pulling out the pin, she feels strange, hot in the face, funny in the belly, tossing the jeans haphazardly in with the dirty laundry. It's small and shiny, cheap metal for mass market production, and yet, she walks it over to the dresser, laying it down on the silk scarf like it's the diamond broach her aunt gave her for her sixteenth birthday.

 She really is beyond Hermès scarves now. But that pin? Well, you never really can get more Annabeth--the middle school know-it-all, teenage debutante, college perfectionist, New York yuppy, or barfly and punk princess--than one of the greatest architectural achievements in human history.

 She is still a little shocked by how much she loves it. How much it means to her that Percy saw that it was perfect for her.

 And like so many times when she is confronted with an emotion she doesn’t like, she slams the door closed, and goes and watches a favorite movie from high school.

 She does order dinner, eventually, setting out her meal in between texting Piper about brunch tomorrow. It's a whole thing, pretending that they’re not going out for her birthday, but eventually they agree on a time and a place, and she can eat her sausage and watch everyone practice the Bend and Snap in peace.  

 So she is very annoyed when her phone buzzes again.

 Maybe the reservation fell through. Or maybe she doesn’t want Annabeth to show up in ripped fishnets, even though that only happened once.

 Her stomach sinks when she checks her phone. It isn’t Piper.

Hello Dear, Happy Birthday. We miss you. Please call anytime. Love Dad, Mary, and the boys.  

 Below the text is a link, leading to a gift certificate for $200 to Sephora, which has Mary’s name written all over it. Aunt Natalie would have suggested Bergdorf Goodman.

 Her hand clenches, momentarily overcome with the urge to hurl her phone against the wall. But there is no one around, so there wouldn’t be any point to it.

 She stabs at a pierogi with a chopstick, and watches the girls dance on screen, humming along.

 She passes out on the couch after midnight.

 Her mother never called.

[straycat-writes]

don’t ever come back (mafia!dazai osamu)

summary: When it comes to Mori, Dazai can just never seem to win.

warning(s): guns, manipulation, (slight) intimidation, Ougai Mori being the sadistic fuck that he is

Dazai had always hated this place, this room that Mori called his office. It always felt too much like a hospttal, too much like death, too much like Mori. Even the walls felt saturated with his cold and deathly calm presence, and that was the most terrifying thing of all. Even now, as he stood in front of the desk, Mori’s steely eyes digging into his skin like icicles, Dazai felt suffocated. He wanted to bolt, to turn and run away and never come back, or better yet, just disappear altogether. But he knew he could do neither of those things.

Dazai had been careless. He had made a mistake, a gross miscalculation, and now he was going to pay the price for it. He simultaneously cursed and laughed at his own recklessness, at how he had allowed himself to relax, to think that Mori wouldn’t find out. It sounded ridiculous to him in hindsight, because Mori always found out. That’s just how it had always been. Dazai would find the smallest, slightest flicker of hope buried somewhere in his world of grey, and Mori would immediately snuff it out. Dazai was his best weapon after all, and he needed to keep his best weapon sharp and…uncompromised.

Everything Dazai had ever loved, Mori had burnt to the ground with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. Over time, he had stopped trying at all, because what’s the point if whatever excuse for happiness he had scraped together was just going to be ripped from his hands anyway? And yet…

And yet, he had gone ahead and deluded himself that for once, just this once, he was allowed to take the love, the care and affection being given to him without feeling guilty or apprehensive. As if everything didn’t come at a price. Spoiler alert: it does, and now they were both going to pay for it.

Dazai clenched his jaw, nails digging painfully into his palms. Mori was saying something to him, but amidst the chaos in his mind, he could only make out a few fragments. Lying…don’t need…get rid…weakness. Even though his voice sent shudders of cold discomfort through his spine, Dazai knew him well enough to get the gist of what he was saying. It’s not fair, he wanted to scream, except when had anything ever been fair when it came to Mori? You can’t do this were the next words that came to mind, but that was a lie too. Mori could do whatever he wanted.

“Well?” his voice felt like a bucket of ice-cold water being dumped on Dazai’s head, breaking him out of his reverie, “Can you?”

Dazai scowled to himself. That’s right, Mori had asked him a question. No…that’s not it. Question would imply that he actually had a choice, and Dazai was much too clever to believe that. Mori had a way of framing his orders in a manner that gave people the illusion of choice where none existed. It was a dirty trick, but one Dazai was too familiar with to fall for.

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, narrowing his eyes and steepling his fingers below his chin, “It’s a simple enough question, Dazai. You say you don’t care about her, so you shouldn’t have any trouble going through with this…right?”

Dazai’s mind was racing, so fast that he was almost having trouble keeping up with it. His head hurt. There’s really no way out of this, is there? If he says no, Mori would simply get someone else to do it. If he says yes, well…At this point, he wasn’t sure which option was worse.

And then, something flipped inside his head like a switch, and his eyes widened. What had he been thinking? How could he think there was ever another way? …I should it. He’s right, he’s right, he’s always right and I’m always wrong and there’s no other way and –

Mori smiled as he watched Dazai turn and walk away wordlessly, a dazed and empty expression on his face. And even though he had never got around to actually answering the question, Mori knew he had won.

Dazai found her just where he had expected to: on a bar stool at Lupin, trying to get drunk after a long day. With Chuuya, of all people. Dazai frowned when he spotted the short redhead sitting beside her, deep in conversation. She laughed when he said something particularly amusing, and took a sip of her drink. Her cheeks were rosy, whether from the alcohol or from the cold, he couldn’t tell. It suited her, though, and – no, this wouldn’t do. He was getting distracted.

He made his way over to where the two of them were sitting and lightly touched her shoulder.

“Oh, Dazai!” she smiled, “I didn’t know you would be here tonight.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chuuya scowl at him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to particularly care. He returned his gaze to the girl sitting in front of him, looking at him with a questioning gaze.

“Can we…can we talk for a while?”

She blinked unsurely, “Uh, yeah, alright.”

Mumbling an apology to Chuuya, she got up to follow Dazai. Together, they stepped out of the safety of the bar and into the cold winter night. The biting wind was unforgiving, and he watched her shrink into herself a little as she pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. His chest ached a little, to see her so trusting and unassuming of him. He could lead her down to hell, and she’d probably follow him there too.

It was late at night, late enough so that the streets were completely deserted. Dazai didn’t stop until they reached the docks. She had told him once that she liked the sea at night, when the moon’s reflection rippled in the waves like silver. There was no moon tonight. He was faintly aware of her asking him something, probably about where they were going, but he couldn’t make out much over the screeching in his head that just won’t stop, like nails on chalkboard.

When he finally did turn to face her, she stopped mid-sentence and the questioning expression on her face immediately turned to that of surprise, then to fear.

That might have had something to do with the gun Dazai was pointing at her now, the barrel inches from her forehead.

“D-Dazai?”

She sounded scared and confused, and why wouldn’t she be? Here she was in the middle of nowhere, with her lover pointing a gun at her head. He hadn’t said anything to her the whole way, and he wanted to say something now, anything at all, if only to break the silence. But what exactly? You can’t exactly apologize to the person whose head you’re pointing a gun at.

And maybe Dazai wasn’t as stone-faced as he believed himself to be, after all. Because she was staring up at him now with wide eyes, and Dazai could see her piecing things together in her head. He faltered a little at that thought. He didn’t want her to know just how weak he really was behind the façade he had put up. Am I really that easy to read? He found himself thinking as he took an unconscious step back. But she had seen enough.

“So that’s how it is.” She whispered, head hung low.

With her shoulders slumped, she looked up and gave him a defeated smile. Then she took a step forward. Whatever Dazai had been expecting her to do, it wasn’t this, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do. She stepped forward further, and soon enough, her forehead was pressed right against the barrel.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Dazai could read her well enough to figure out on his own what she wanted him to know.

Do it. Do it if you have to.

He unlocked the safety, the click sounding unnaturally loud in the silent surroundings, as if sealing both of their fates once and for all. For a moment, his thoughts got so loud that her image started to blur in front of his eyes. I should do it. He’s right, he’s right, he’s always right, this is the only way.

Only way for what, though? What exactly am I trying to achieve?

There were tears streaming down her face now, but she didn’t back off, nor did the smile of resignation leave her face. Dazai knew it was meant to reassure him, to let him know it was okay. Except it wasn’t. Mori had figured out where Dazai’s heart lived, and had found the perfect way to plunge his hand inside and rip it out. Worst of all, he made it seem like a favour, like a gift to him, and he knew it wasn’t but what did he know?

Dazai didn’t remember actually pulling the trigger. He could see his hand tightening around it, pulling it slowly backwards, but it felt like it wasn’t really him doing it, like he was outside his body, watching like a mute spectator. The shot resounded throughout the docks, loud enough to silence everything else, including his mind.

He only realized he had screwed his eyes shut when he tried to open them again. The barrel of the gun was fuming with smoke, the smell of burnt rubber permeating the air. It took him a while to realize he had failed. The bullet had missed its mark.

The gun fell from his hand, and barely a second later, he fell to his knees too. Clutching his head with both hands, he found himself mumbling two words over and over again, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

If Mori were here, Dazai would’ve gone up to him and screamed, “There’s your answer!”

“Sshh, it’s okay, Dazai, It’s fine…” It was only then that he realized that she was kneeling down beside him, whispering softly to him as he shook in her arms.

“I…I almost killed you.” He said in a barely audible voice, a tear sliding down from between his fingers that were still clutching at his face.

She touched his wrist, gently prying his hands away from his head, and even though her hands were cold, it was enough to reassure him. Almost. It’s okay, she’s alive…The relief that flooded through him at that thought almost made him melt. Then came the fear. He had failed. He had failed, and there was no telling what Mori might do now. He wasn’t scared for himself, because what could Mori possibly do to him? The answer to that was a lot, but he didn’t particularly care. No, he was afraid for her, and what would become of her now that he had failed.

Maybe she noticed the shift in his expression, because she softly touched his cheek and made him look at her. That seemed to snap him back to his senses.

He stumbled backwards and immediately got up, swaying a little on his feet. “You need to go.”

“What?” She gave him a confused look as she got to her feet too.

Dazai shook his head vehemently, “There’s no time. You need to go, you need to - ”

“You’re not making any sense, Dazai!” she pleaded, “Go where? Why!?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just leave, go, disappear somewhere.” His voice was frantic, and he had to make an active effort not to yell.

She was silent for a while, before finally saying, “What about you?”

He gave her a watery smile, “Does it really matter?”

“Of course fucking it does!” she yelled, and the sheer anger on her face almost caused Dazai to back off, “We can…we can both leave! Let’s run away!”

Dazai laughed bitterly, “I can’t leave. There’s no place in the world where he won’t find me.” And if he finds me, he finds you.

The look on her face was one of pure distress, “Dazai, please…Don’t do this.”

He sighed, and knew he was going to hate himself for the rest of his life for what he was about to do next. He had picked up the gun that had fallen from his hands earlier, and now he cocked it once again at her head, “Leave. Now. Go somewhere far away where no one can find you.”

Mori always said Dazai didn’t have a heart. But if that was true, what was it that he could feel breaking inside his chest right now, as he looked at her? Her shoulders were slumped downwards, and she was looking at him with eyes that seemed almost liquid. But she knew she had lost.

As she finally turned her back to him, Dazai felt his stomach drop. She was leaving. She was really leaving. He would never see her again, and he’s the only one to blame. For the first time in his life, Dazai’s hand shook while holding a gun. He swallowed hard.

“(Y/n)?”

She turned around to look at him, eyes wary and tinged with the slightest bit of hope. That hope was immediately killed when Dazai gave her a blank stare.

“Don’t ever come back.”