#how lives can be dramatically transformed ; with love n truth n

[noxtivagus]

i'll read "the tempest" soon i'm v excited 🫣

[biggest-stupidhead]

So I was wondering if I could request something like Levi x reader where they get into an argument right before a expedition. The reader gets hurt on that expedition and Levi feels guilty. Kinda thinking angst and a bit of fluff at the end c:

I loved writing this sm! thanks for sending it in anon!

Summary: You grapple with Levi before a stressful mission.

Word Count: 2.3K

__

"Behave yourselves and enjoy this 'cause it cost the corps two months worth of our budget!" The chef announced as plates of meat were uncovered in front of the soldiers. Your mouth watered as you watched Hange slice the thick slabs of meat on the platter.

"Worth every penny." She hummed as she slapped a piece onto her plate. Levi rolled his eyes and looked up at Erwin, who was sat across from him. You elbowed him and shot him a dazzling grin.

"Lighten up cap, it's not often that we get to enjoy this stuff."

"It'll likely be the last for most." Levi grunted and your grin fell from your lips.

"So macabre." Hange snickered as she gnawed on a piece of meat.

"It's the truth." Levi's cold eyes were locked on Erwin who nodded in agreement.

"Well I plan on savoring it." You quipped, popping a piece into your mouth and chewing it dramatically. Levi scoffed and crossed his arms, ignoring his full plate.

"-Sasha! That's my hand!" Jean cried out, you had to cover your mouth in a futile attempt at hiding your amusement. Sasha had her teeth sank into his hand as Connie desperately tried to pry her from Jean.

"Sasha! Don't make me knock you out!" Connie pleaded as he caught her in a choke hold.

"Damn kids." Levi growled, as he glared at the teens from across the room.

"They're having fun! You should try it sometime." Hange kicked Levi under the table and you chuckled around another mouthful of food.

"I'm good." Levi's lip curled in disgust as Sasha was wrestled to the ground, the two boys finally subduing her.

"They're young, let them figure it out themselves." You assured him, gently resting a hand on his elbow. His eyes softened for a fraction of a second at this. Your touch was fleeting before your hand fell onto the bench between the two of you. He sighed loudly, finally grabbing his fork and picking at his potatoes.

The atmosphere was warm and made you feel so...whole. Even if you knew that Levi was right, tonight was likely the last time you and your comrades would dine together. But even if that was the case, you would be grateful for this happy memory. The peace was short lived however. Jean and Eren broke out into a fist fight, a rather pitiful one at that.

Within a few short minutes, the two were a sweaty mess, both huffing and staggering as they held their fists up. Levi got to his feet and stalked towards them, a deep scowl etched on his face.

With only two blows, the pair was on the floor, clutching their stomachs as Levi towered over them.

"Go to bed." He ordered. Jean vomited and Levi's lip curled in disgust.

"And clean that shit up." He added curtly as the dining hall murmured, recovering from the excitement. Sasha whimpered from her post as she struggled against her binds, feet kicking loudly against the wooden floors. As the soldiers filed out of the room, you made your way to her to free her. She sighed in relief as the gag was pulled off her mouth and the ropes slashed.

"Thanks miss." She gushed as she rolled her tense wrists.

"Don't mention it." You smiled as you reached into your pocket and passed her a loaf of bread.

"Did I mention how much I love you?" She grinned as she accepted the food and dove in for a hug.

"Actually, I don't think that you have." You giggled as she began eating the bread behind your shoulder as she hugged you.

"mf, well I sure do!" She exclaimed around a full mouth.

"You'd better go catch up with the others." You suggested with a firm pat on her back. She stood and jogged out of the dining hall, half eaten loaf in hand.

"You're too soft with them." Levi scolded from the doorway. You waved him off as you joined him, walking side by side out of the large room.

"They need it." You assured him, gently brushing your shoulder against his.

"The last thing they need is to be coddled." Levi argued.

"Levi, I think that sometimes you forget that they're fifteen." You paused outside of his office, leaning against the threshold as he unlocked the door.

"I haven't forgotten." He mumbled as he pushed the door open.

"Okay." You rolled your eyes, brushing off his especially sour mood.

"Don't you have formation plans to look over?" He asked as you followed him into his office.

"I thought we could go over them together." You shrugged, dropping down onto his couch.

"I'm not looking at them now."

"Then why should I be? Do you think I can't comprehend a simply formation we've used for years?" You were half teasing, but there was only so much crap you could take from him.

"Sometimes it seems that way." He agreed, falling into his desk chair. Your eyes narrowed and the food that had felt so good in your stomach moments before seemed too heavy.

"Why are you extra shitty tonight?" You asked even though you knew the answer. He always got moody the days leading up to missions.

"I think you know why." He looked up from his papers to shoot you a pointed glare.

"You need a nap." You attempted to rein in the easy banter, but Levi was persistent.

"I need you to get the fuck out of my office." His words stung, and you barely caught the hurt expression before it crossed your face.

"I'll see you in the morning." You said as you stalked across the small room and out of the door, closing it softly behind you. Levi groaned once he was sure you wouldn't hear him, his head hit his desk hard as he tried to fight off the migraine that had been creeping up on him since dinner.

__

As promised, the next morning he saw you. Or rather, he caught glimpses of you as you readied your horse and helped the younger soldiers make last minute preparations. The day ahead was going to be long and taxing. Mostly comprised of traveling out of the safety of the walls. Erwin had allowed for just enough time for the scouts to travel, timing it just so their departure from the gates would be well after sunset.

His morning was shittier than usual, Hange had been annoying, and Erwin had been stubborn as ever, continuing to dismiss his lack of an arm and insisting on joining the corps on the mission. So when you didn't brush up against him and crack one of your shit jokes during the long ride, he knew that he had royally fucked things up.

He still hadn't spoken to you when the lifts hoisted the scouts over the wall and into titan territory, or when the lanterns were the only light that guided them through thick trees.

When the first rays of sunlight fell onto the abandoned city of shiganshina, you stood stoically beside Hange and Moblit. He had missed his window, now it was time to focus on the mission. He could only hope that both himself and you survived.

__

As the morning wore on and the battle turned from bad to worse, you knew that chances of survival became slimmer. The only thing you could do was trust in Hange, Erwin and Armin to form a plan to defeat the Reiner and the beast titan. The colossal had yet to show his face, making you more uneasy. The small victory of bringing down Reiner was short lived as a barrel flew over the wall and the sounds of distance explosions echoed through the walls.

"Bertolt is in there!" Armin screamed as you watched the barrel fly overhead.

"What do we do!?" Connie cried as you flew through the rooftops.

"If he transforms, there will be nothing we can do!" Armin yelled over the wind. Eren's titan jogged ahead as you made your way towards the center of town.

"We have to do something!" You yelled, desperate for a solution. Luckily he didn't immediately transform, instead rushing to Reiner's side and addressing him first.

"I'm going to regroup with Hange!" You said, as Bertolt zipped towards you.

"Hurry!" Jean yelled after you as you flew away, pouring on the speed.

You reached Hange's team to find them struggling with some dysfunctional thunder spears.

"(Y/n)! I'm glad you made it! Was that Bertolt inside of there?" Moblit asked as you landed heavily on the tiled rooftop.

"Yeah, it's him. We don't have long before he transforms. We've got to get back to the kids!" You informed them and they all leapt off of the rooftop, rushing back in the direction that you had come from. You only made it about half way there before a blinding mushroom cloud and a clap of thunder overpowered your senses. Hange reached out for you, snagging your wrist. Moblit pushed the two of you down and you screamed as the blast took him in a blinding light. You and Hange fell down a well, a mess of limbs and tangled gear. You couldn't tell if it was your blood or hers as the two of you laid motionless in the shallow well.

"Hange!" Your ears rang as you shook her desperately. Her face was covered in blood, you could tell that her eye was missing already. You began clawing through your pockets in search of gauze, the taste of iron made you want to gag. With shaky hands, you wrapped her head, covering her exposed eye socket. She woke moments later, hands shooting out to grab you.

"Your face." She groaned, hand falling to rest on your chin as she slowly sat up.

"What's wrong with-" You froze mid sentence when you realized that was why you tasted blood. She dug into her own pocket and produced a needle and some suture. She sewed the large gash, which ran from the apple of your cheek to the corner of your mouth.

"We need to check for survivors." Hange grunted as she bit off the remaining suture, you nodded in agreement.

__

As you stood on the rooftop staring at the two lifeless bodies, you knew immediately who had to be chosen. Hange clutched Mikasa to her chest as the girl cried, tears running off her pale cheeks.

"Levi." You whimpered, his bloodied face turned, eyes wild and tortured.

"Get back, I'm giving the serum to Erwin." He ordered. Floch hauled Eren away from Armin, who's charred skin smoked in the late afternoon sun.

"You can't." You cried, tears stinging the wound on your cheek.

"I will." Levi growled.

"Now leave!" He pulled the syringe out of the case and filled it with the opaque liquid and your chest squeezed painfully.

"But-" Jean's hand closed tightly around your bicep as he began pulling you towards the edge of the roof.

"Let's go." Jean's voice was strangled, and you realized that all of you felt this loss deeply. He needed you to be an adult here, needed some reassurance. So you leaned into him and allowed him to pull you off of the roof, wrapped securely in his arms. As you hugged him and Connie a few rooftops away, the sound of a titan crashing through buildings made you look up. Levi landed near you, head hung low and empty syringe in hand.

The thin beast shoved the screaming boy down its gullet and you gasped when you saw its face. You knew it was Armin, and you felt ashamed at the surge of relief that flowed through you.

__

The sun beat down on your shoulders as you sat beside Sasha on the wall. Levi and Hange had gone with Mikasa and Eren about an hour ago, leaving you in charge of the remaining kids.

"Here they come!" Connie called, pointing excitedly at the group as they used the last of their gas to scale the wall. Levi didn't bother joining the group, instead favoring to walk in the opposite direction. You rushed after him, legs pumping as you ran across the wall. You snagged his wrist and tugged on it gently.

"Levi." You had no words, only able to form his name in a raspy voice.

"I should have chosen Erwin." He said numbly, too weak to even try pulling free of your grasp.

"It's over. We reclaimed Maria. You made a hard choice, I can't say it was the right one but.." Your words failed you as he turned to face you. You had never seen him look so hopeless, lips glued into a frown and eyes searching for validation.

"You did what had to be done." You assured him as you took a step closer, the tips of your boots touching his.

"Did I?" His brows knitted together as your hand slipped into his.

"Yes. You did, you gave us a chance." You slowly leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him. You were surprised when he melted into you, his body pressed close, breath tickling the skin behind your ear. Your hands gripped the harness on his back in an attempt to ground the two of you. He sighed and breathed you in, his own hands coming to rest at the small of your back.

"We'll figure this out." You said into his neck, lips brushing the skin there unintentionally.

"I'm glad....that you survived." He said into your messy hair, which was falling from it's hold. His hand slid from the small of your back to rest between your shoulder blades.

"Me too." You let out a small laugh half sob, allowing a few more tears to slide down your cheeks.

"Let's address those shitty kids." He said as he pulled back, and you nodded, giving him a watery smile as the two of you fell into a matched pace once more.

[ellsbclls]

White Winged Dove

warnings ➛ COUNTRY!TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!! smut, baby! (PLEASE do not interact if you are a minor), hurt/comfort, minor angst, happy ending: guaranteed!, a handful of swear words, and y/n has no choice but to have a country accent, i don’t make the rules here. extended warnings will be under the cut!

word count ➛ 9.5K

authors note ➛ i saw that gifset of tom taking a shower in cherry and my brain short circuited, so here! have a cupcake!

synopsis ➛ Tom feels like his world is falling apart, so he turns to you, the only person that reminds him of home.

extended warnings ➛ nsfw, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected f/m intercourse (please practice safe sex, kiddos! wrap it before you whack it!), a tiny tiny tiny sliver of blood!play if you squint with one eye closed.

You remember the night in waves, docile, fleeting waves that tease the rim of your consciousness before reeling back. Golden whiskey licks at the seam of your lips with each pass of the bottle, and the pond is glittering beneath the blinking trails of all the lightning bugs — tens of hundreds of fireflies, dancing in the night’s misty skyglow, rivaling the pale moonlight.

You remember the night in waves, but he is a mighty current.

You can’t scrub the memory of him from your mind, that bleak, hopeless expression that hollowed out his features. You remember how your heart split into a million little shards the second it appeared, and just when you thought there was nothing left to break, his fragile voice pleaded for you to take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far.

By the time the sun spilled past your window pane, you were nothing but a drowsy amalgamation of lithe limbs, coated in morning glow as it spilled through the glass.

But behind your eyelids lives an imprint of the night before — a shimmering reflection of the night sky, and the moments that unraveled beneath its sweeping gaze.

9:17PM — You’re belting into your hairbrush, not a care in the world, and pouring your heart and soul out to a crowd of none. Somewhere between all of your clumsy twirls and impromptu choreography, you stumble over the shoebox that was poking out from under your bed, and a flurry of damp tresses and musical giggles fan across your comforter.

The walls in your house have always been notoriously thin, but what could you possibly expect from the weathered planks of wood paneling that lined your bedroom? You could hear your father’s creaky footsteps whenever he ransacked the fridge for leftovers in the dead of night, and the heavy thump of laundry that your mother would throw down to the basement, but once your radio crackles to life, and Stevie’s enchanting croon permeates the air, all those subtle nuances fades to a dull, lifeless roar.

With each passing note, the white winged dove becomes you, and you soar above endless miles of  Mississippi wood. There’s not a soul that can drag you back to the outskirts of town, force you to confront what may become of you when you land, there’s no room for trepidation where you go. There, in your own little corner of the woods, it’s just you, Stevie Nicks, and the moon.

And, technically, Thomas.

Minutes have gone by, you still can’t find the strength, nor the energy, to lift yourself up, and as your downy blankets hug your tired frame, you remain blissfully ignorant of your peeping tom.

Thomas, affectionately penned Tommy, has been your best friend, your confidante, since the very first day of kindergarten. You had pulled a pack of scented markers from your tiny, pink barbie backpack during free time, and he had pulled out the empty seat beside you, plucking, sniffing, and ultimately discarding each and every pen until the box was empty. When you asked him which one was his favorite, he asked you the very same in response, just so you’d “coincidentally” have a shared affinity for coconuts. He was oddly endearing, which is a trait that’s always stuck with him. So, even at a young age, you never wondered if he was just using you for your nice possessions, or trying to take advantage of your courtesy — he always offered himself to you at face value, and you never stopped taking as much of him as you could get.

Had you been aware that your childhood friend was waiting expectantly at your window, you may have handled your alone time with a tad more discretion — but you weren’t, and each act of your private concert forces him into an even harder position. To what extent does he let you embarrass yourself before he makes his presence known, and for how long will you bury your head in the sand before the embarrassment mulls over? He sees your stage dive as a golden opportunity, and seizes it before you begin to stir.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three short, mild raps, uttered in quick succession, jostle you from your lavish daydreams like a bucket of ice water, and you have to squint just to make out his fair features amidst all the darkness shrouding them.

“Tommy?” A flash of his soft, earthy hues tame the wild drum of your heart, confirming your suspicions, and you fight the urge to chuckle when he innocently waves at you.

“Well don’t get all shy on me now. Come in.” You open the window just enough for him to slip through its frame, allowing your eyes to graze the sculpted plains of his back, and admire, albeit shamelessly, how his muscles ripple beneath his fitted t-shirt.

Yet, there’s something about him being in your room, towering over fixtures that once towered over him, that makes you feel uneasy. A part of you adores the way he instantly makes himself at home, but the remainder is doused in fear, fretting over his wandering hands and what they may discover, surveying little trinkets and souvenirs that decorate your desk.

“Hasn’t changed much since the last time I was in here, has it?” He notes, absentmindedly shaking the contents of a snowglobe your grandma brought you from New York, a miniature skyline of Manhattan continuously buried in a flurry of snow. Most of your playdates took place in his house, so as your friendship flourished past elementary school, and the time that spanned between your meetings grew shorter and shorter, you’d found yourselves frequenting his home for all of your endeavors. It was just easier that way.

That’s the sole reason you rarely visited your room. It surely wasn’t the suffocating atmosphere that plagued your home, or your hormonal, angst ridden brain convincing you that you’d scare him to the high heavens if he caught a glimpse of your relationship with your family — how dismal it is. How you build entire worlds, cycle through dozens of bountiful lives, in the luxury of your mind in hopes of retreating.

You’d be lying if you said the poster of Zac Efron, now lurking precariously behind his shoulder, wasn’t a glaring reason as well.

“Yeah, couple things here and there, but it’s pretty much the same.” You try to be discreet as you wander around your own room, Destination: Tiger Beat. Once you reach it, you rise up on your tiptoes to cover as much of the poster as humanly possible, but scramble for an excuse once you notice him turning. “You actually left something the last time you were here. It’s on the top shelf.”

RIP! The poster is crumpled in your grasp no sooner than his back turns to you. You’d have to give a formal apology to your wildcat once you were left to your own devices, but until then, he was banished to the most unsuspecting corner of your room.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” His thumb fondly strokes a small, yellowed testament to your friendship, a weathered page of loose leaf etched in awry plumes of ink that perfectly encapsulate his very essence — egregiously passionate, regardless of the outcome. He had written it when he was about seven, intending to give it to the “girl of his dreams” once he met her. You can still hear his sweet, little voice echo between your ears, endearingly mistaking his r’s for w’s. “You kept this?”

“Of course I did.“ Candor coats your tongue before you catch yourself, the tail end of your answer turning to dust as soon as it hits the air. You can’t bring yourself to admit just how many restless nights you’ve allowed yourself to clamber up that oak dresser, just to read that letter over, and over, and over again, praying that if you had stared at it for long enough, his messy scrawl would transform into the words you yearned for most — that it was meant for you, that he’s loved you from the very start. “Wasn’t sure if you were planning to repurpose it for some other lucky gal.”

You lock eyes with him for the first time since he appeared at your window, and stowed beneath his reservation are faint embers of warmth, kindling behind ebony curtains as you indulge in the hearth of his gaze. Lifetimes seemingly pass before his eyes are flickering back down to his hands, and it prompts you to offer him the note. “You can have it back.”

“No, you keep it.” Your brows pinch together, and a thousand questions collect on the tip of your tongue. You wonder if he recalls the same memory you do, if he remembers the significance buried in that little scrap of paper, but ultimately choose not to dwell on it. He knows just how much you love to collect memorabilia — keep cherished memories stowed away for safekeeping — he’s just being thoughtful. “Consider it undeniable proof that I know how to read and write.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in here about knowing how to read.” You tease, catching your tongue between your canines as a smirk conquers your lips.

“Ya got me,” He chuckles, smile reaching for, but never quite meeting, his faraway stare. You are so accustomed to his teasing quips, his usual flair for the dramatics, that this half-hearted attempt at replicating it fills you with discomfort. He tries to punctuate his words by tossing his arms to the sky, but they don’t reach high enough to convince you that he’s okay. Something is plaguing him, and you won’t settle for anything less than the truth.

“Tommy,” His name is sweet on your tongue, all honeyed vowels and soft, descant consonants that command his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothin’, I just-“ he’s avoiding your eyes, which is a clever strategy on his part. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then his are a stained glass mosaic, a vibrant display of all his emotions, and you — you are but an avid observer.

“Hey, look at me,” Two slender digits underline the curve of his jaw, and with a firm grasp of his chin, leave him no choice but to meet your gaze, tender and resolute all the same. “ You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready, but I can tell when someone’s been rode hard and put away wet.”

“I just, I need to get out of here, and I thought I’d ask my favorite distraction to accompany me.” He stumbles over his words, faltering over his messy façade, but you’d rather this over nothing at all.

“And where might we be goin’?” You query. You can tell that this is going to be a long night, but luckily for him, you don’t have any plans that can’t be rescheduled. Your adoring fans will just have to wait another night.

“Somewhere… Anywhere,” He murmurs hopefully, and your heart nearly sinks to the floor. You’ve never seen such a chasm of joy, not in those bright, amber orbs you study so adamantly. You’d almost deem it pain, whatever’s tugging at the frame of his optics, whatever’s depriving them of that usual, warm glow. “as long as it’s far from here.”

9:39PM — “Watch your step.”

“Can you help me?” You whine — one hand reaching out for his assistance, the other firmly clasped around a bottle of Jack Daniels. There is an awkward incline just below you, only a few inches off the ground, but tall enough to make you stumble, and he could already see you bumping your knees on the way down, so he offers his elbow as a point of leverage.

“Atta girl, you’ve got it.” He coos, reluctantly abandoning your grip once you’re safely on the ground.

Mystical, and buzzing with life, you introduce him to the farthest corner of the woodlands. Whenever the walls of your room become suffocating, your legs always give out right about here. 

Your secret hideaway. 

Where you let your most worrisome thoughts roam free, and when those thoughts seemingly wander into nothingness, you chalk it up to wishful thinking, and fail to realize that they haven’t disappeared, they just don’t belong to you anymore. They belong to the babbling brook, constantly replenishing itself and its inhabitants with fresh, spring water, belong to the frogs and crickets as they fill the night with their moonlit ballad, they belong to the night, and it’s reflection, as it wades across the face of the creek; dotted with lightning bugs or the cosmos themself, you weren’t sure. All you know is that you always returned, as if a piece of you was tethered to the very spot.

“Where are we?” He wonders aloud, raking his fingers through his downy, chestnut locks as he explores his surroundings.

“I don’t exactly know.” You confess, making yourself comfortable on the ground. Most nights, you slip off your shoes and sink your feet into the brook, but you know Tom like the back of your hand, know what kind of ideas might venture through that rascally mind of his when he spots you near the water. So, you play it safe, pulling your knees up to your chest as you peer up at him from a safe distance. “It’s nice, though. Quiet. Good place to let your thoughts wander.”

“You ever take a dip in here?” Predictable. You stifle the urge to laugh at his query, sinking ivory veneers into your pillowy bottom lip, and shake your head in response.  “Hell, if I were you, with my own nature-made swimmin’ pool, I’d bring all the boys around.”

“You know I don’t waste my time with no silly boys.” You sigh, sending him a wistful glare. 

“You sure about that?” He counters, mimicking your perked brow with eerie precision.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You huff. God doesn’t build boys the same way he built him, he took his time crafting that statuesque frame, implemented hawk-eyed precision for each and every beguiling detail you’ve come to adore. He is a man, tried and true, from his sharp, angular structure to the neverending bounds of his heart, but rather than inflate his ego moreso, you let him assume the worst. “You can take a dip if you want, though. I wouldn’t mind.”

You wonder if he can tell just how little you’d mind as a mischievous glint highlights his amber hues, but before he can even open his mouth, you’ve already pinpointed the source of his glower, already voicing your adamant refusal. “No, absolutely not. Not a chance, Tommy.”

“But why not?” He whines, bellowing over your feeble chant, conjuring the most convincing set of pleading eyes he can muster. “It’s dark, it’s humid, and ain’t no one around to tell us not to.”

“Sounds like all the more reason to not do that.” You scoff, scooting further away from him and the strength of his hopeful gaze.

“I hate to pull out the big guns, but... what if I told you that it’d make me feel so much better if you accompanied me?” You’re left to wonder what the big guns are supposed to be, if they aren’t the way he is encroaching on your personal space, crawling up the length of your legs until there is only a sliver of space between you. 

“I’d remind you that there are much drier ways to make you feel better.” You could feel your warm breath fanning across his lips, distracting you with the scent of minty toothpaste and your vanilla chapstick, ultimately failing to notice his hands, and how they’re positioned just below your waist.

It would only take one swift move to reach the small of your back, two to scoop you up in his arms, and about six more to drag you into the pond — kicking and screaming, but successfully so.

And he doesn’t chance it.

SPLASH! You’re no sooner submerged in the brooks’ murky depths, reaching out for lily pads and cattails that fail to provide you leverage, and your screams bubble into thick, smothered embers of a once irate flame. He better pray you never emerge from usunder, because he’s merely a howl away from being swept up in the tide — the tide being your arms as they force him to the bottom of the crick.

“Y/N,” your name scrambles between the slosh of the water and the pounding in your ears, but you manage to break the surface and blink spare drops of water from your eyes.

“I was drowning!’ You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water as you kick, and splash, and writhe around in the stygian abyss.

“In two feet of water? I beg to differ.” You can barely make out his comeback over his fit of giggles, but a part of you would rather this bright, teasing version of himself that what you’ve been dreading beforehand. Taking his outstretched hand, you stumble to your feet and, much to your dismay, find yourself standing in about two feet of water (which, in your defense, is a far more daunting threat to someone your size as opposed to his). You cool his inflating ego with a cold splash of water, dispersing tiny droplets from your fingers as they wave in front of his face.

You splash around in the water for what feels like forever, transforming stray lily pads into makeshift hats, dressing to the nines in the latest collection of aquatic couture, and as the moon casts a pale spotlight on the babbling brook, you occupy it’s centre, huddled in one another’s embrace, swaying back and forth amidst the shallow pools.

10:02 — You're still wet.

Drenched, really.

You’ve resorted to wringing out your hair with your bare hands, twisting the dampened locks between your fists until water pours from the follicles. You’d never once pondered the benefits of freshwater landings, but you were about to find out. A glare threatened to slice through the air, but immediately wavered at the sight of him — desolate, void, so lost in his thoughts that you’d wondered if he were even there.

God, you’re worried sick. You’ve dealt with bouts of sadness, sprinkles of melancholy, but this was downright depressing. You wouldn’t even know what to do if you tried, and that’s what worried you the most.

Thomas, your best friend, your crush, your light — the best parts of you all wrapped up in a clumsy little package while the best parts of him threaten to snatch up your heart, as if it wasn’t already his.

“Tommy?” You break him out of his reverie, but press on, scooching closer to his form, dangerously standoffish, like an uncaged animal winding up to attack, until you cross the threshold into his personal space. With a sturdy hold on his bicep, he melts into the palm of your hand, practically leaning all of his weight into you, stealing a reprieve you didn’t know he needed. “You can talk to me, y’know. It’s just us.”

“She left, Y/N.” The evening air seems still, in perfect tandem with your breath as you fear what might come out once you finally exhale. You know he’d shove all of his feelings down if he caught you shedding a single tear, and this isn’t about you, it never has been. So you hold your breath, latching onto the heavy silence that follows his confession, and pray that your chest is strong enough to smother the sob bubbling beneath its surface.

Fortunately, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “The closet was empty, and all her cookbooks were gone. I looked downstairs and there was nothin’ there.” You don’t know if he’s finished, watching as he toys with a loose string on his jeans, but he breaks his own silence with a newfound waver in his voice.  “I had a feelin’ she was ‘bout to leave, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. I thought I had a lil’ bit more time to say goodbye.”

Edie was a good mother, the best of mothers, and never had she drawn a line when it came to who she nurtured. When you were little kids, you’d race each other to his house once the school bell rang, tiny little bodies weaving through the stalks of corn that prefaced the farm. She would follow the shuffling crops with a heavy eye, leading you to the porch with her raspy, whimsical chime, and crouch down to envelop the both of you in a tight hug when you emerged. She was the best of mothers.

But she wasn’t the best of wives. You were both far too young to notice the signs — the nights where you found her sound asleep on the sofa by her own volition, the packed suitcase that hid underneath the stairwell to the basement, the hesitance that laced her tone when she said I love you to his father — and something tells you she wanted to keep it that way. 

Her son didn’t need to worry about his parents, and how fast they were falling out of love, and whether they really loved each other in the first place. Her son just needed to be a kid, and that is a belief she devoted the best years of her life to.

But he isn’t a kid anymore.

That’s why she fled in the middle of night, leaving nothing but a ruby encrusted ring on his dresser — her class ring. The same one he’d snatch from her jewelry box whenever she wasn’t looking. The same one he used to propose to you at the wee age of four, promising you as much of the world as a toddler could imagine.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he recounts every detail, and every fiber of your being yearns to just schoop him up in your arms, hold all his broken pieces together with the strongest embrace you can muster. He doesn’t deserve that type of pain, shouldn’t have to relive it, and yet he takes it upon himself to tell you everything, to relive it for your own selfish gain.

You grow envious of the way the moon trails kisses down the slope of his nose, across the high rise of his cheeks, and over the swell of his bottom lip. There were times where you’d find traces of his mother in Tom’s features, lining the curve of his warm smile or, when the sun hit them just right, speckling his earthy hues with tiny rods of gold. Tonight, he is shrouded in a celestial spotlight, mesmerized by its waning body, and if you squint just enough, you’ll find her longing stare hidden beneath his own.

“And the worst part is that I ain’t even mad at her. Not even a lil’ bit.” He concludes, talking more to the sky than to you. “Not even at all.” When his gaze falls back to you, you can only try to cover up the betrayal, wipe the back of your arm across your tear-stained cheeks before he notices they’re even misty.

You inevitably fail, expelling a wistful sigh as he pulls you into his side, comfortingly running his hand over your bicep as he murmurs sweet nothings into the night.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t want you to find out like this,” You furrow your brows, and wonder just how he would want to break the news to you. Would he let you find out for yourself, or would he bring you out to the plantation, and let you sink into the soil until the news began to blossom in the fields? Would they be cornstalks? And would they reach for the sky just like her?  “I didn’t wanna make you cry, but... I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is a wash of dulcet tones, fingers soothingly raking through his damp tendrils in a silent bid to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can take it.” You’re quick to clamber to your knees, wrapping him up in an airtight embrace, keeping him from wallowing into a puddle of tears. “I’m right here, Tommy.”

“I know,” he sputters, with an edge of sorrow to his tone.

“I’m right here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You promise.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, and shatters any trace of consolation looming over the encounter. Your brow furrows, your heart pounds against your chest, and for a fleeting second, you feel like you're caught in a lie. What if he knows? What if he can tell just how much you’d surrender to be with him? What if he doesn’t want it?  

“Why not?” You’re near hysterics, praying that the intensity in your eyes makes up for the tremor in your voice. “Why not? I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.” 

“I just don’t want you to make a promise you can’t keep, Y/N.” That sullen gaze resurfaces, chills the air with it’s haunting presence — that hollow stare which fosters the remnants of a bright, contagious joy, and carves a pit, just as empty, in the well of your stomach, one that aches to be satiated. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his palm lingers against your cheek, trying to smooth out the heavy creases in your expression with the gentle stroke of his thumb.  “Hell, I don’t want you to promise that in the first place. You deserve more than all this, you deserve the best this life has to offer you, and I’m not gonna keep you from all o’ that.”

You’ve lost track of your heart long ago, it’s dizzying tempo rivaling a hummingbird, nearly undetectable as it flitted uncontrollably, knocking against your ribs until its ultimate descent to the pit of your stomach. 

You pray that he can one day see everything that you see in him, that loving himself is as easy for him as it is for you; you hope that there is a life where he never has to feel as small, or inconvenient, as he confessed, and you wish that this would eventually be that life.

You decide that it’s time to put an end to wishful thinking. 

“Let me make something clear to you, Thomas.” You cup his jaw, firmly, and utter each word without a trace of uncertainty. “I’m not sure exactly what I want from life yet. I don’t know if I wanna spend the rest of it in this little ol’ town, or just pack my things and go as far as the wind will take me. I couldn’t tell you if I tried, but… that’s okay.” Slowly but surely, your lips give way to a sheepish grin, feeling lighter, freer, the further into your declaration. “It’s okay, because there’s one thing that’s for certain, and it’s that I’m all yours. It don’t matter how far I go, I’m always gonna come home to you.”

The silence is deafening. 

All your emotions hang in the air, crippling your air supply with insurmountable regret. But his gaze is what terrifies you the most; just as suffocating, but in a way that sweeps the air from your lungs. You knew that there would always come a time where all the unrequited feelings you’ve harbored would finally boil to the surface, fueled by the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as one sided as you thought; but under the void of his empty gaze, you wonder if you’d made a huge mistake. 

Or maybe there really is nothing — nothing to reciprocate, nothing to subdue you, nothing to salvage what little remained of your friendship after such a loaded confession — and so you scramble to assemble an apology convincing enough to overshadow your lapse in judgement.

But he doesn’t even spare you the chance, swallowing your half-hearted excuses with the firm press of his lips, pouring a lifetime of ardent desire, of longing, into the hollow of your mouth. It’s crystal clear that you’re his, the realization comes borderline cathartic. There has never been a day where your heart has not beat for him, and only him, forever threatening to spring from your chest and return to its rightful owner. The days, the months, the years of back and forth felt like a cruel jest from the fates, but now you were here, bundled in the warmth of his strong embrace, tongues curling against one another in an endless battle for dominance, and you would endure it all over again if this was where it lead

He searches for some sign of absolution, paws up and down your back in hopes of grounding himself, and you reverently provide, mustering what little strength you have left to crawl into his lap, brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans without a trace of subtlety, offering him the most sacred parts of you in hopes of bringing him home.

“Y/N,” he sighs raggedly, a half hearted attempt to gain your attention, one that proves unsuccessful as his pleas whittle into a frail, insipid shadow of what they could be. You’re too busy acquainting yourself with the plains of his body, embedding a trail of deep red marks into the column of his neck as your hands slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He’s built like a greek statue, you don’t even need to discard his shirt to indulge in the taut muscles tensing beneath your fingertips. “Y/N, darlin’, wait.” He interrupts your greedy ministrations by fastening his digits around your wrists. This is the point of no return, you can feel the fragile divide between friends and lovers, splintering beneath the weight of your heart, and yet you fail to concern yourself.

His digits are free to roam the high plains of your cheeks, pioneering the flushed expanse with beacons of soft, arching butterfly kisses until there’s no skin to cover, ultimately pressing his forehead against yours. ”You don’t- I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Seems almost redundant, you muse, to wonder if you want him when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. You are a pillar of salt, and as he showers you in a knee buckling torrent of kisses, you melt into the palm of his hands. If the way you’re draped against his form isn’t evidence enough, then the wetness pooling between your thighs most certainly will be, he’ll come across that confirmation once he tends to the spot you need him most.

You trace the cleft of his chin in delicate pursuit, whining as he tears his lips from their languid path, and peer through your inky lashes to meet his gaze once more. “I want this, Tom. I want you.”

“You have me. I’m all yours.” He echoes your words back to you, reverently, delivering a sacred vow from the hearth of your soul, ove you have, and will continue to, dedicate your humble living to, and you seal that promise with a bruising kiss. 

The weight of his palm melts into the small of your back, pulling your chest flush against his own as it sweeps up your spine, and you moan against his lips when your nipples press up against his sturdy chest, aching to be freed as they strain against their gossamer confines. 

You’ve only had the pleasure of making out with Tom for less than five minutes, but you can already tell that it ranks high on your list of favorite pastimes. Soft, pink petals brush against your own like they’re a flourishing canvas, and he’s trying to even out the brushstrokes, but all he leaves is a scorching flush in his wake, and your clothing, despite being bathed in pond water, do little to ease the blistering heat. It’s suffocating you, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away so that you can rid yourself of the article.

Besides, the less fabric separating you from his anchoring, toned embrace, the better.

“I’m all dirty,” Your meek voice collapses into a fit of giggles, and your feeble attempt to wring out your clothes is thwarted by his hands, venturing up, up, up, and under the hem of your skirt at a teasing pace, savoring the feeling of your warm, silky skin beneath his fingertips. You can tell he’s as desperate as you are, confronted with acres of new terrain to explore, and only so little of his patience to spare.

“I know, I’m sorry angel.” His voice is soft, and soothing, and riddled with mischief. Even if there is even an ounce of truth in his apology, you can still make out the devilish grin that toys at the corner of his mouth. “May I, m’lady?” He croons teasingly, flashing those whiskey glazed hues in a way that you could never refuse. 

“Proceed, good sir.” You counter in the most refined timbre you can dictate, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he bunches the hem of your dress in his palms, hoisting it over your head to expose the breathtaking contours and curves of your body. You can’t remember what compelled you to forego your bra, but the thought is soon pushed to the corner of your mind, making room for the warm, fuzzy feeling that conquers your insides when Tom lays his eyes on you, bared to him and only him. His gaze alone makes you feel like you are a spectacle to behold, the most enchanting vision to ever cross his line of sight. If there was even a speck of insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind, the sight of Tom’s eyes, blown wide with adoration as they worship every sinful inch of your skin, instantly quells those fears. 

He struggles to find his words, to occupy this infinite silence with anything, everything, as his calloused palms caress the sides of your waist, but all he can manage is a husky growl. One that prefaces the reappearance of his tongue, and its feverish descent from the column of your neck to the tops of your breasts, bathing your skin with gluttonous, broad strokes, and coaxing pretty, little whines from the back of your throat.

There is something so unhinged in his actions, so carnal, it summons another wave of arousal to pool against your soiled panties, knowing you have such a strong clutch on his resolve. Though, another branch of your mind races at a mile a minute, consumed by the endless possibilities that come equipped with Tom’s skill. 

You try not to dwell on the little flings that came before you, especially now, in the afterglow of your confession. The taunting, pitious gazes you shared with his hookups in the hallowed halls of your alma mater, toting a reminder that they could indulge in everything you yearned for, scorched you more than the thought of the act itself — but the rumors were just plain inescapable. If even a fraction of them hold a candle to the truth, then you are in for one hell of a night.

“You’re just as sweet as I imagined, angel.” Angel. The nickname sends sparks flying in the well of your stomach. “Can’t wait to taste that perfect little pussy. Just know it’s gonna be even sweeter when you cum all over my fingers.”

You whine softly at his words, but clench hard around nothing, aching to be filled by those unbearably long, slender digits. Nothing could have prepared you for the scene unraveling below you — his lips latched around the stiff peak of your nipple, a husky groan reverberating around the pebbled surface, and head slightly moving against the palm of your hand as your fingers tug at his chestnut locks. The long, covetous laps of his tongue mingling with the vibrations of his contented little hums make you desperate for more, arching, writhing, trembling against him in hopes of finding a semblance of relief for the ache between your thighs.

“Tommy, please.” You plead in the most convincing, fucked out tone you can muster, but he doesn’t budge, showering your other bud with a flurry of quick, relentless kitten licks. Even mother nature joins in his relentless teasing, making you squirm as the gentle breeze blows cool, summer air against the glistening bud.

This is torture, a blissful, euphoric form of torture that, despite your irritability, you would surrender to time and time again. But you fail to notice just how hard your canines puncture the swell of your bottom lip, too immersed in the stroke of his tongue, in the ghost of pleasure that stirs in the pit of your stomach each time you rut against his clothed cock. A sharp, metallic tang seeps into your mouth, hitting the tip of your tongue and forcing a trembling whimper to the front of your mouth.

The pitiful sound piques Tom’s interest, and before you can wipe the blood from your lip, your face is already cradled between his palms. “Fuck, Y/N, look at you,” His eye were wide with concern, and your heart sputters over the blistering scorch of need his compassion arises in you. “C’mere.” Dropping his forehead against your own, his tongue tentatively brushes the curve of your lips, lapping up every last drop of blood that is smeared against it. He applies pressure to the wound, cauterizes it with a searing dance of bloodstained brims, as his one hand weaves into your damp locks. You barely know how to respond, but your body compensates with an untapped sense of hunger, scraping your teeth against his lower lip as you desperately claw at the toned valley of his back.

“Please, Tommy, please. I’m dripping.” You mewl, teetering over the perilous edge of delusion, foraging between your stomachs in search of his free hand. Yet another wave of arousal pools between your thighs at the sight of him, with his puffy, saliva stained lips slightly parted, and his eyes blown wide with the insatiable need to indulge himself, to spoil you. Once your fingers circle around his wrist, you guide his hand to the apex of your thighs and urge him to feel for himself, applying the lightest of pressure against his fingers, urging him to caress your tender lips through the sodden barrier of your panties. To feel what he’s done to you. “You feel that? It’s all for you.”

“All for me,” he echoes back, mesmerized, cognac hues fading into obsidian orbs as he rubs deliberately teasing circles over your covered clit. “And you ask oh so pretty. Let me take care of you, my pretty girl.” Before you even get the chance to reply, he’s pushing your panties to the side, dipping the pad of his middle finger between your silky folds — feeling, exploring, acquainting himself with the tight ring of muscle that he plans on stretching open. 

His hesitation is nothing more than a plight at this point, you are more than willing to take anything he has to offer, and he can gather that much from the wild gleam in your eyes, so he slowly works one finger into your snug, velvety walls and curses under his breath at how heavenly you feel. You’re unlike anything he’s had before, far exceeding the lengths of his imagination as you softly clench around his digit, and it only takes a few seconds to adjust to the lithe intrusion, your walls already twitching against his shallow, testing thrusts, before he adds another.

“So fuckin’ perfect, darlin’. Love the way your pretty little cunt takes me.” A thin sheen of sweat coats your forehead as he rocks his digits at a leisurely pace. Tom is obsessed with the tiny frown forming between your brows, almost like you’re confused by the amount of pleasure building between your legs, struggling to keep your eyes open, your juices spilling past your opening to trickle down the palm of his hand. To say your experience is limited is a bit of an understatement — the whopping two men you’ve slept with prior were merely amateurs in comparison to your lover. Even if there was enough air in your lungs to articulate it, you don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve never been fingerfucked. Period. The embarrassment almost swallows you whole.

But even without anything to compare it to, you’re convinced that you’re receiving the upper echelon of experiences.

As his pace quickens, prodding against your pulsing walls with an onslaught of keen, ravaging thrusts, you’re too busy gasping for air to notice how he’s switched his angle. Now the heel of his hand is rubbing against your bundle of nerves with each stroke, applying just enough pressure to light a spark without ever setting you off, and as the pads of his fingers pound against your sweet spot, you are reduced to a limbless puddle in his hands, doused in an ethereal glow that only he could surface. “God, Y/N, you look like an angel. My pretty little angel— ‘bout to cum all over my fingers.” he panted, voice biting the air with a wolfish gleam, canines peaking past his thin lips.

“Tommy, I’m so close.” You aren’t sure if you can hold on for much longer, dangling on the coattails of insurmountable bliss, finding a new reason to fall apart with each lewd kiss or sharp thrust. Your orgasm is already creeping up, threatening to crash over you each time he plunges into your slick heat, but you know that you want to feel him — all of him — stretching you to unimaginable lengths as he sinks into your tight little hole for the first time. “I wanna feel you. I wanna- I need to cum on your cock.”

Tom’s brows meet in the middle, and you wonder if you’ve strewn too far, surrendered the remainder of your common sense to lust and her shameless palms. “Such a filthy little mouth for such a good girl.” He whispers, wondering aloud, his free hand abandoning the nape of your neck to cup your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to drag it down before letting it spring back to its pouty default. “You will, angel, you will, but I gotta get you ready first.” He reassures you, and you remember just how prominent his length is, straining against the denim cage of his jeans, and attribute his wavering tone to the sheer restraint he’s been exhibiting. But you have to admit — if his fingers are only a fraction of his length, then you are not sure just how much of him you’ll be able to handle. The thought sends you barrelling toward your climax, but not without the help of his thumb, pressing up to rub fervent, clumsy circles against your clit, his husky tenor cooing sweet words of encouragement into the space just below your ear. “I can feel you, angel, let go for me. I’ve got you.”

With one final thrust, he buries his fingers to the hilt, caressing your g-spot with a tentative come hither motion, until you are ridden with overwhelming waves of pleasure. All you can feel are your tender walls tightening around his fingers, and your thighs starting to tremble under the weight of your high. But he is spellbound, mesmerized by the swirling vision of you at your most content, eyelids hanging low over your blown out hues, your hips absentmindedly grinding against his hand, meeting his timid rhythm as he tries to work you through your aftershocks.

Emptiness soon replaces the stretch of his fingers once he slips them out, but a twitch of excitement follows the path of his slick hand, and you can’t stop from outright moaning at his shameless display.

“Just what I thought,” he murmurs. You are too captivated by the sight of his lips — pink, and kiss-weathered, and frankly obscene —  opening wide to welcome his slick fingers, gracing his taste buds with your juices, and humming around them as they coat his tongue in an intoxicating elixir . “Open up, pretty girl,” You‘re torn from your trance by the pressure of his digits, knocking against your bottom lip, begging for entry. “Come taste how sweet you are.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you graciously welcome his fingers, putting on a show as you swirl your tongue between the two digits, moaning softly as the bittersweet taste that hits your tastebuds. You aren’t prepared for the shallow, tentative thrust of his digits, or how he starts up a slow, steady rhythm against the back of your tongue — but god do you welcome it, softly gagging with each steady downstroke, spit already dribbling down your chin as you try to keep up with his quickening pace.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He offers you a ginger smile, one that makes the tears pooling in your eyes worth gagging for. “Good girl. Good, good girl. I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You try to reply over his digits, but your words are muffled and faint as they thud against the wall of your lips. Luckily, he’s coherent enough to notice that you’d like to speak — and who is he to stifle that sweet little voice of yours? “Thank you,” you pant, fluttering your tear-stained lashes up at him as you clamber to fill your lungs, disputing your feverish pleas as you wriggle away from the outline of his cock. The sensation of his waterlogged jeans rubbing against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you keening over him, pushing you further from his crotch, and closer to his embrace, back arched with a near-feline agility.

“Can I?” you ask, kneading your palms over his thighs, feigning innocence as you inch closer and closer to his zipper with each upstroke, and he nods, granting you permission to free him from his denim confines. In one fluid motion, your one hand unzips his fly as the other helps him kick off the remainder of his offending items, and you have to resist the urge to drool at the sight of his cock springing from his boxers, let alone his sinfully perfect, exposed form.

He’s a little bit larger than you expected — what he lacks in length, he makes up in girth, but there isn’t much to make up for in the first place. His shaft is decorated with pretty, ivory veins, ones that would no doubt twitch beneath the hot, heavy weight of your tongue, and the crown of his cock is flushed, glistening with a thin sheen of precum that makes your mouth feel conveniently dry. Your walls twitch at the disheartening reminder of your emptiness, but all out spasm as his fingers eclipse the circumference of his cock, using your juices to leisurely pump himself.

“You’re so pretty.” You sigh, a flurry of giggles floating beneath your words as you reach out to touch him, hovering just above the tip in order to send him a cautionary glance — one he hurriedly accepts, nodding his head fervently as he stutters into his grasp. A rosy hue blooms across the valley of your cheekbones as you encircle him, covering whatever he can’t as he all but bucks into your palm. His heart strains against his chest upon the realization that his hand easily dwarfs your own, watches your smaller fingers barely curl around his engorged shaft and fights the urge to cum right then and there.

No, he needs to feel you.

“Are you sure?” He asks once more, granting you a final chance to salvage what little scraps remain of your childhood friendship, but you are already committed, determined to devour every last, glorious piece of him, to prove that he is the rightful owner of you, all of you, every shimmering shade of you.The sentiment would be almost derisive if not so loving, so noble, and yet you dismiss it with three, chaste kisses upon the outline of his profile — against his forehead, the notch on the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, warm and inviting.

“I’m certain.” You promise, merely a breaths width away from his lips.

You have never been more certain of a decision in your life, desperate to feel him nestled deep inside you, to blur the line where he begins and you end. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, their pressure neither here nor there as they coax a hiss out of him, and you line him up with your entrance, tossing your head back as you waste no time breaching your needy hole with the bulbous head of his cock.

It’s blindingly clear that you have been given the reins, what with Tom’s finger’s seeking refuge in the soil beneath him, a low groan rumbling beneath his chest, his eyes rapt with an unspoken urgency as they survey the spot where you connect, and you relish in your paramount. Your knees dig deeper into the ground as you lower yourself onto him, and with little resistance, your walls steadily welcome inch after inch with a searing embrace, etching every delicious ridge and vein of his length to memory until he bottoms out, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. There is a dull pain laced in the stretch of your opening, intermingling with the remnants of your last orgasm, and as you twitch and pulse around his girth, he appears like an dream before you, sifting through a thick haze of desire, wispy curls clinging to the thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and eyes blown wide with ripples of pleasure, of lust, that long to be indulged.

Once you’ve adjusted to him, you test a few shallow, tentative rolls of your hips, lifting yourself off the tiniest bit before filling yourself up again. He just feels so perfect, like god spent a little extra time molding him just for you, rubbing against parts of you that have never known such ecstasy until now, and you struggle to find a rhythm amidst all these new, dizzying sensations. “Poor little thing, you’re so worked up, you barely know how to take my cock.” It’s funny, how he can make such degrading words sound so sympathetic, and regardless, your body responds long before your brain can register, wildly spasming around his cock. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to return, digging into the curve of your hips to assist you, working you over his length in long, plundering strokes that steal the air from your lungs. “That feel better, angel?”

“Mhmm,” you shakily nod your head, fingers finding purchase in the broad expanse of his shoulders as you dig your nails into the freckled expanse, flooding his senses with the weak little uh, uh, uh’s tumbling from your lips each time you’re impaled on his cock. If he could lap up every hitch of your breath, every wayward sigh, he’d be drunk off the height of your unbridled joy. Hell, he can barely sustain himself as is, ravenously lapping up the beads of sweat clinging to your temple, swirling his tongue around your earlobe in its descent. Yes, yes, he’s swept up in sultry waves of you, and as your pelvis kisses his, as the air is filled with the sounds of your hips snapping against his own, he’s less and less concerned about emerging from your enchanting depths. “You got another one for me, angel? I can feel you squeezing my cock, baby, I know you got another one.” He’s delirious, clawing at the altar of your hips, and nowhere near as close to finishing as you are, but god is he eager to tear another orgasm out of you.

You, on the other hand, are a furnace, taunting flames of embarrassment licking up your insides, pooling in the small of your back, racing up your cheeks, at such arduous lengths as to mix with the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. Tom seizes the opportunity to find some leverage, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of you, planting his feet on the ground so that he can thrust up into your sopping cunt at a punishing pace, and you both can already feel the tell-tale signs of your building pleasure. “It’s okay, Y/N, you can let go.” Nothing more than a faint whisper, you indulge in the way his cock massages your inner walls, how your name sounds so filthy, yet beguiling, as it slips from his slightly ajar lips, how it blends so well with the weak little moans of his own name rolling off your tongue. “Let go for me. I wanna feel that perfect little pussy cum all over me.” His hand dips between your sweat slick forms, firmly swiping his fingers over your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, turning circles into your favorite shape, and his change in position makes the crown of his cock curve into your g-spot each time he pounds into you — so your helpless to the crescendo of pleasure that washes over you. 

A broken, startled shriek tears through your lungs, and you topple over his thighs, digging crescent shaped indents into his knees as you surrender to your climax, walls fluttering and contracting over his length as he works you over the edge.

“Oh, what a good girl.” He coos encouragingly, reaching his hand out to cup the weight of your breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked bud as his pace eases up, and it isn’t until now that you realize he’s leaning back, holding himself up by his forearms while he drinks in your pleasure-ridden form. “My sweet, sweet girl.” You can tell he’s holding back by the way his hips still stutter up into your overstimulated heat, how his cheeks, his forehead, all of his features are set with a heavy flush, how you aren’t filled to the brim with his cum — and you simply won’t allow that. 

“It’s okay, Tommy.” You whisper, carefully lowering yourself until your chest is aligned with his own, sharply exhaling as you feel him push up against your tender core. Your eyes are soft, and dazed, and oh so pretty, glittering beneath a thin layer of unshed tears, but this is about him, it’s always been about him, and as his cock twitches amidst your spasming walls, you firmly believe that you can handle another orgasm if he can coax it from you.  “Keep goin’, it’s okay. I want you to fill me up. I wanna feel all of you.”

“Y/N—” His voice is stern, but your lips are fierce, stealing whatever argument may have been building in the cavern of his mouth as you weakly tilt your hips downward, offering yourself to him once more. When he muscles up enough strength to tear himself away, he only finds a bounty of understanding, of devotion, of love, teeming at the brim of your eyes, and he needs no words to indulge himself, to yield to a mesmerising whirlpool of you, you, shimmering you.

Tom wraps one arm around your back, holding you close to his chest while you scatter soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder, smoothing his palm over your damp tresses as he hoists one leg over his hip, prying your legs even further apart so he can fuck up into you — impossibly tighter, and tormentingly more responsive as he slams into your overstimulated cunt. You can feel every square inch of him now, every long sweeping vein, the tiny sliver of skin hidden beneath his tip, it’s all crystal clear as he plunges into your weepy core, and you’re so cockdrunk, so fucked out of your mind, that you don’t even notice your hips slanting down to meet his thrusts. You’re just that greedy for another orgasm, hellbent on tumbling over yet again as he fills you to the brim.

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to that precipice once again, the coil in his stomach pulled taut with your whimpered chant of his name, with each strong pulse of your cunt tightening over him. He buries himself to the hilt one last time, stuttering into your hips with a loud, frenzied groan, and finally teeters off the edge, dragging you down with him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder blade, pumping his hot seed into you, coating your walls with hot spurts of cum as you milk him for every last drop, the crude sound of your arousal mixing with his own making you shudder.

You both lay there for a second, safe in each other’s warm embrace, basking in the aftermath of your fortuned affair, and you cowered beneath the sky and it’s constellation clad ceiling, feeling infinitesimal, but oh so contented, beneath its glorious gaze. There, wrapped up in one another, two splintered halves mending, healing, into the whole they were destined to become — the sky was but a star in comparison to your light, your bright, everlasting light.

How did we get here? You wonder. How, oh, how is he finally mine?

You follow the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the moon lounges across his curly lashes in a silver chaise — you survey him at his most vulnerable — and determine that you have more than enough time to find the answer. As long as he’s here, by your side, you don’t plan to wander too far.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! PLEASE LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT, IF YOU ENJOYED!

TAGLIST: @devotion @reawritesthings​

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

The Devil and the Mermaid - Chapter Six (Lucifer x Mermaid!Reader)

Author’s Note: The inspiration here came from a dream of mine, also one of my favorite shows “The Legend of the Blue Sea” has some heavy inspiration here as well. Thank you so much for the support of the series! I will also create a tag list for this story since I saw people interested in that. Again I love reading your guys’ comments and if you want to be part of a tag list for this series please let me know :)

Warnings: hospital scenes, heavy makeout session, yelling

Taglist: @th3gl1tt3rgam3roff1c1al, @magnet-girl​ , @roxytheimmortal​, @danielle143​

Prev Chapter

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You woke up to a blinding light reaching your eyes and you felt like you were swimming in the ocean for a brief moment with how dizzy you felt. You tilted your head to the side and felt a jolt in your body as you processed what happened to you. Someone shot you, and it was aimed at Lucifer but you managed to save him, that reminder is what calms you down.

*I saved him, that’s all that matters,* you thought. 

When you have settled back into the hospital bed, that’s when you finally take in the surroundings of where you are. You were in a hospital with a hospital gown on and a needle stuck in you, when you realized that it had started to itch and you reached to pull it out of you.

“Hey don’t mess with that, darling, wouldn’t want to hurt yourself even more,” said an achingly familiar voice.

You looked up and saw his beautiful face looking at you as he entered the room with a Styrofoam cup in his hands.

“Lucifer,” you breathed out. You relaxed much more into the bed now releasing the tension that you hadn’t realized had been as strung up as it was. You felt even better when you saw him with you again.

“Oh, love, why did you have to go and get yourself hurt?” he asks you.

“You shouldn’t have gone and provoked the main suspect,” you teased.

He got flustered for a second while dramatically putting his hand to his chest in a fake offended motion.

“I’m glad you are doing better… To be quite honest with you I was terrified of losing you. I've become quite attached to you, my little mermaid,” he confesses to you.

You felt your get watery and your face heated up at his confession. ‘Maybe he really does love me, but I’m scared, what if he found out I didn’t tell him the whole truth?’

You saw his face scrunch up in thought but when he saw you look at him inquisitively he gave you a small smile.

“Now my dear, what’s inside that head of yours hmm? Your thoughts are getting too loud that I can hear them,” he says.

You get flummoxed at that and you sputter out, “but that’s impossible you can’t hear my thoughts! Can you? Or was that just a human expression?” 

He just smiled at you and said, “You gave me quite a scare, love, the doctor told us that you are surprisingly healthy even with you just being shot. Which we haven’t even started to discuss, but anyway you are already fit to leave by tomorrow.” “Wait really? How long have I been asleep for?”

“A week”

“A week!?”

“Yeah and you had me worried about you the whole time.”

That made you smile slightly because you at least know now that he was thinking about you during your time in the hospital, but the thought of your fate about what might happen to you if he died still haunts your thoughts. 

When you looked up at Lucifer he had a concerned expression on his face.

“Is there something that’s been on your mind the whole time?” Lucifer asked.

You shook your head no and he just hummed in response. The rest of the visit consisted of him filling you in on what happened after you were shot, how the case was closed and how Chloe and Dan were worried about you and how Lucifer was basically stuck by your side during your whole recovery. 

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

The next day came and you were released by a bewildered doctor on your fast recovery and found Lucifer waiting for you at the lobby and you eagerly hugged him tightly as you thanked him for meeting you here and taking you home.

He laughed and replied, “Of course, (Y/N), now let’s go home”

The cheerful exchange had ended at the hospital as when you left the hospital and Lucifer was driving, your mind was drifting back and forth on how you could possibly tell him about what might happen to you if you stayed on land. You noticed Lucifer’s hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel, and you started to get more nervous as you got closer to LUX. 

*What’s happening?* you thought as you followed close behind Lucifer.

Lucifer had escorted you up to his penthouse at LUX and had pulled you towards the balcony of his place. You stood across from him with a worried expression on your face as you hugged yourself waiting for him to talk.

“When are you going to tell me?” Lucifer asked.

You looked at him in surprise as you dropped your arms to your sides and said, “I don’t know what you mean?”

“You’ve been hiding something from me for a while now, I just don't know what it is. What is going to happen to you if I don’t love you the way that you need me to? What would happen if something happened to me? You never explained that part to me. Was there a reason for that?”

You just kept staring at Lucifer thinking of a way to tell him about your fate, and you decided to say it in your thoughts because he couldn’t hear them.

*If anything happens to you, I can’t live on land anymore. My heart only beats for you, that’s how I got to be on land was my love for you, so without you, I will die, that is how the transformation works. My heart has limited time on land, and so if you leave me or this world I will die unless I can return to the ocean. My heart will harden, cool, and stop. Without you, that is how I will end up.*

“Wait, wait, love, what was that? You’ll die?” Lucifer asked.

Your eyes widened in surprise, he wasn’t supposed to hear any of that. “What?” you said.

“Repeat all that you said, your heart will harden and you’ll die?” he tells you.

All you could do was take a step forward and ask him, “You could hear my voice?”

“Tell me, (Y/N). You said your heart will stop. Why?” 

“When did you start hearing my voice?”

“Why are you going to die?” He yelled at you with tears in his eyes. 

“You! When did you start hearing my voice? Tell me!” You yelled back. 

“Since the beginning! So please just tell me, if anything happens to me, if I die, you’ll die?” 

“If you can really hear my true voice then you already know the answer to that, Lucifer. I’ll die if you die, so I can’t make any promise to you that I will live happily with you gone. I can’t. Since I got my legs I was also given a new heart, a heart that beats on land, a heart that beats for you,” you told him.

He let out a sharp laugh at that and he turned his back to you and ruffled his hair as he turned back to you as tears fell down his face. 

“So then why did you get shot by me? I would’ve been fine! I can't be hurt by mundane weapons! I told you already I wasn’t human!”

“I couldn’t take the chance, I love you! You know this already, but I’m in love with you! I love you, Lucifer, and so I couldn’t take the chance to see you get hurt,” you explained to him as you stepped closer to him.

His eyes got wild and you saw a flash of red in his usual dark brown eyes as he then lowered his voice as he said, “And what made you think I could?”

You got taken aback by that as you dropped your gaze from him and just whispered, “What?”

“Oh my dear, (Y/N), what made you think I was able to see you broken like that? I was so scared, I was petrified, I didn’t know what to do, I even prayed to Dad! For hell’s sake, I am in love with you, my darling (Y/N), I had begun to realize that a while ago but I was too scared to put what I was feeling into words, but when I saw you collapse and hurt to protect me, I realized that I had nothing else to lose to put what I felt into words.”

You felt tears pool up in your eyes but you didn’t want him to see you like that, so stared at the floor still as you asked, “Really? Do you mean what you said?”

He puts his hands on either side of your face as he gently lifts your face up to meet his gaze. 

“My love, my darling (Y/N), I love you, I love you (Y/N),” he says with a tearful smile.

You let out a nervous smile as you felt the tears stream down your face but Lucifer wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. 

“Oh Lucifer, thank you, I love you too,” you say to him. 

“Can I kiss you now, my love?” he asks you. 

You nodded and you met in a sweet and loving kiss. You felt him everywhere on you as he closed the edistance and you felt so loved and safe in his arms. He moved his arms down to rest at your waist and your kiss became more intense as one of his hands came to caress and entangle his fingers in your hair scraping your scalp. With all these different sensations you let out a tiny moan escape your lips and you flushed in embarrassment with that. You parted from him and you tried to hide your embarrassment from him but he stopped you before you got too far. 

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? Where are you going?” Lucifer asked.

“I don’t know what that sound was,” you replied.

“Oh don’t worry love, that’s completely natural, now why don’t we go back to that kiss, hmm? Let me hear all those lovely, cute, sounds, too,” he answered.

He kissed you again, this time with a renewed sense of fervor and it almost winded you if your whole weight wasn’t being supported by him. His hands were all over you making you moan in his mouth again as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He tentatively bit your bottom lip making you gasp and letting him have his tongue enter your mouth, he was sucking and licking and making you moan like crazy. You had an inkling what this was doing to you, but you didn’t realize how intense he would be.

He then put his arms on your thighs, gripped them and lifted you in air, promptly carrying you back inside the apartment. You gasped at that which allowed him to thrust his tongue further into your mouth making you moan again and smile into the kiss. 

Lucifer threw you down on the bed making you bounce on it and he started to climb on top you which made you start to giggle and smile widely at him. In turn he just smiled lovingly at you as he patted your hair and then bumped your nose with his finger making your face scrunch up and going into another giggle fit. 

As you started to calm down, Lucifer was still on top of you with a goofy smile and a loving expression on his face. He leaned down and kissed you softly and kept repeating that making you feel like you were back in the ocean again, floating, free and protected.

 You are so in love with this Devil and you knew you would do anything you could in your powers to protect him. Hopefully that promise to yourself wouldn’t be met again for awhile.

[siennahrobek]

“He’s holding me back,” Anakin snarled as Obi-Wan carefully paced a cup of steaming tea in front of him. He had come to the older master quite readily after he and Qui-Gon had joined their crew. Getting picked up by a fleet of venator class destroyers could either be incredibly embarrassing or quite impressive. Obi-Wan isn’t entirely sure which Anakin thinks. He had steeped Anakin something sweet and calming; exactly what the young knight needed. It was pretty much what he needed all the time, to be honest. The boy had more than just a bit of a temper.

Being around Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t exactly help.

The man rather indulged him.

Obi-Wan shrugged as he sat down on the opposite side of the thin table, shifting the cup towards Anakin and pulling his own closer. He made direct eye contact as he took a sip. Usually, it would prompt Anakin to do the same. In the company of certain people, Anakin sometimes mirrored others’ actions. Obi-Wan was one of those people. “Perhaps. But you are no longer a padawan. A knight in your own right,” he assured gently. He honestly doubted that Qui-Gon was actually holding Anakin back; Obi-Wan was fairly certain no one could really hold him back.

Sometimes however, he could be convinced to step back once in a while. It was a rare occurrence, but it had happened before.

“He’s jealous of my power,” Anakin snapped, nearly cracking the mug his fingers were laced around. Obi-Wan gently put a hand over his to stop it and pull it away. Anakin’s fingers were trembling in the jedi’s own and Obi-Wan gave a gentle, assuring squeeze before he pushed the mug a little further into Anakin’s purview.

In the end, Obi-Wan had actually snorted. The concept was rather ridiculous, his master being anything of the sort. Anakin was thinking things, perhaps even told things like this, but it couldn’t be the truth. “Doubtfully,” he muttered, something low but able for the younger man to hear rather clearly. He cleared his voice to continue. “Qui-Gon Jinn isn’t jealous of anyone, least of all you, Anakin. Take a sip, you will feel better.”

He hesitated but Anakin did so, mirroring Obi-Wan. They drank in silence, but the air was turning more comfortable. Tension bled from his shoulders as they released, and he slumped down a little bit. Anakin’s temper always seemed to be running high these days and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he could help in a way that Anakin really needed. He only, currently, had momentarily solutions to a bigger issue.

“A bit better?” he asked. He knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Anakin admitted begrudgingly with a sigh, shaking his head. He glanced over down below the balcony and then back at Obi-Wan, something sad but fiery in his eyes. It was a rather strange combination, Obi-Wan had to admit. “I should be out here, with you. In the war. Fighting.”

“It is not as glamorous as you are thinking it is,” the older jedi just hummed, taking a sip of his own tea and once again, Anakin took his own sip. He wondered if the younger man realized what he did.

“I know that.”

“You don’t,” Obi-Wan refuted but it was kind and patient, shooting a look to project that when Anakin stared at him, a bit angry at his counter. He didn’t like people contradicting him or telling him what he knew. Usually he wouldn’t, but Obi-Wan knew that Anakin had no idea what war was actually like. Not like this. Obi-Wan just tried to keep himself as serene and enduring as ever, to deal with Anakin’s irritated and frustrated disagreements. “I would not expect you too, either. Master Jinn is right about one thing, we shouldn’t be fighting a war.”

“You agree with him?” Anakin sputtered, surprised. The concept was befuddling to him and Obi-Wan wondered what exactly he knew about the war. Master Jinn was certainly not favorable; he couldn’t imagine the older master saying anything nice about it. Perhaps he even spun falsehoods. “Then why do you?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan looked over the ledge that sat about the rest of the mess hall, off to the side. Down below them was the rest of the mess hall and cafeteria, littered and crawling with troopers. Obi-Wan could feel them, he could always feel them. They filled him with such warmth and care, it made it just a bit easier to get up each morning and fight in a war that he could not stand being in. Yes, it was to protect innocents, but he reminded himself everyday that he could do what he had to protect as many as them as well. “Reach out and tell me what you feel,” he added. It was more of a suggestion than a demand but rarely did Anakin see that kind of difference.

Anakin sighed and rolled his eyes, staring at him intently. “You are not my master, Obi-Wan.” This much was true. Anakin was a knight, he no longer needed – or wanted for that matter – a master telling him what to do, but Obi-Wan had a point. At his core, he always knew he would be a bit of a teacher. He always had a point.

“Humor me,” Obi-Wan glanced at him with a kind smile.

The younger man just sighed again, loud and dramatic, and eventually complied. He looked over, beyond the railing, down in the large room that harbored so many soldiers. Some of them were in their amor uniform, usually sans helmet and others in blacks. Officers had their own uniforms that they were hardly out of, whether they were clone or not. A minute passed. Two.

Obi-Wan just waited patiently.

But then. “What do you feel?”

“They are warm,” Anakin acknowledged, his voice starting to soften, just as Obi-Wan spotted his eyes doing the same. “Brighter than I expected them to be. “They are strong, loyal, determined. Doing their best and being their best. They care about one another such certainty and persistence.” His smile was gentle and kind, lacking the fiery passion that usually inhabited him.

He could make friends here, Obi-Wan thought.

But Obi-Wan just nodded and Anakin looked back at him. He was still in a bit of a daze, probably from seeing and feeling all that warmth and light, but he was still listening, probably expecting Obi-Wan to tell him his point for the exercise. Whether or not Obi-Wan would say anything, he knew that Anakin didn’t quite regret what the older master had asked of him. “They are living and breathing beings. Sentients with hopes and dreams, whether they admit it or not. Whether they consciously know it or not,” he started. Many times, had he heard that the soldiers only dreamed of the survival of themselves and their brothers from one day to the next and didn’t think of the future that they may have afterwards. Although Obi-Wan believed them, when they said such things, he also thought they had subconscious desires and dreams for that future. Hopes for it. Even if they hadn’t been able to quite realize them yet. He truly hoped he could help them get to that point.

“I know they are,” Anakin added quietly, staring down at his tea before taking a small sip, unprompted. Obi-Wan counted it as a win. It was hard enough for Anakin to drink tea, even when he knew it helped him.

“They are a large reason why I do this. Why I must,” Obi-Wan responded, just as soft, staring down at the gently swirling liquid in his cup.

Anakin glanced up at him, his head turning a bit. “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan pointed to the corner of the mess hall, a small table inhabited by non-clones and non-jedi. There weren’t many of them, but Anakin had a thought that it was rather on purpose. They packed together, rather tightly and did not move away from their specific table, keeping together and not milling with anyone else around. “What do you feel from them?” he asked, a bit abruptly.

Anakin groaned again but it was light and only half-hearted, but did so, taking a breath before letting his eyes sweep over the room and then settle on the table in the corner. He closed his eyes briefly and reached. With a frown, he started to speak, to explain what he felt. It didn’t appear that he liked what he was feeling, what he found in them. “They…aren’t happy. But…not in the sense of war, not in grief or sadness but like, they are dim, displeased, annoyed. They feel…disgust? Indifference?”

Obi-Wan nodded. He had felt it.

“Do they…are their feelings because of the clones?” Anakin asked, startled at the thought and pending realization.

“Sometimes, yes. Those few right there think of the troopers much like the rest of the galaxy sees them. As though they are droids encased in flesh; worthy only to be cannon fodder,” Obi-Wan explain, only sparing those men a quick glance. He looked back at the troopers that made up most of the room and Anakin could feel him softening again.

Anakin’s lip curled as a snarl escaped out. The thought made him angry.

“They do not care so much for casualties, only absolute victory, no matter the cost,” Obi-Wan continued. “If they jedi were not here to use tactics and ideas that wouldn’t decimate the numbers…I imagine it would be much worse,” he sighed, shaking his head with a deepening frown. “The clones are so willing, so eager, so loyal. I do not quite understand how anyone can meet them and not love them.”

“You are trying to save them,” Anakin said and felt pushed around by the appreciation and care for the troopers. It was interesting to feel. Jedi were known for their compassion and kindness, their wiliness to help others, sometimes even at the cost of their own lives, but it felt a bit different with the troopers. Anakin was beginning to understand why the jedi may have chosen to enter the war; if only to try and help in any way they could. There was something different about these beings. Like they were somehow intertwined with the jedi. Made to be friends, to work together, made for one another in a way that was profound, and one Anakin couldn’t quite understand or comprehend in words. He wondered if others had noticed this.

“I am not so naïve to think I can do so,” Obi-Wan replied, breaking through Anakin’s thoughts. “But I want to get at least as many as I can through this war. They…care about us in a way we don’t generally see associated with the jedi. The least we can do is try to get them through this and return the favor the best we can.”

“Do other jedi feel this way?” Anakin hadn’t even realized he had spoke for a moment, verbally saying what he had been thinking just seconds prior. Sometimes he felt so different than others, like he was the only one who could connect on the level that he did. Like he was an exception.

Master Qui-Gon thought he was an exception.

Obi-Wan nodded and there was absolutely no hesitation to it. “Not everyone of course, but most, at the very least. Even if we hadn’t been drafted into the war, I think the Council would have done the same.”

“Drafted?” Anakin blinked.

“Yes.”

“Wait. So, the Order was forced to join the war?” Anakin asked incredulously because…that was not what he had heard. Over a year in and this was the first he had heard of such a thing.

Obi-Wan hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should be the one giving this information, like he wasn’t sure if he should be the one having this conversation, but his brows furrowed, and he nodded. “Yes, Anakin,” he replied slowly. He had to be careful with how he spoke. Anakin’s friendship with the leader of the Republic was not exactly a secret and everyone knew how protective Anakin was of his friends. “The Chancellor made it…very clear we did not have much of a choice.”

“Master Qui-Gon said you chose it,” Anakin responded, and he sounded numb, his voice just kind of dropping off in surprise.

You, Obi-Wan mused with darkening thoughts. Had Qui-Gon meant Obi-Wanspecifically chose this or was Qui-Gon distancing himself from the jedi already? Had his old master turned Anakin against the jedi; made him see himself an exception for everything? Chosen one or not, Anakin was a jedi. That was not to change unless Anakin chose to change it. But one could not continue to truly be a jedi if they thought of themselves as exceptions to the rules, to the guidelines, to the faith of their culture.

“No, Anakin,” his voice came out nearly as a croak. “The Order was drafted.”

“But Master Jinn…” Anakin drifted off, staring down at his tea. There was barely any of it left. “If the Jedi were drafted, not everyone is involved. Master Jinn, he…he’s not a part of it.”

“We found a loophole for him,” Obi-Wan confessed and it felt a bit different when he spoke it. He found a loophole for his former master; to ease the mess. He couldn’t imagine what Qui-Gon would have done or said if they hadn’t kept him out of it. Whether or not it was the right choice, Obi-Wan knew, even if they could get Qui-Gon to work within the confines of the war, he would almost certainly have become Obi-Wan’s problem. And Obi-Wan dealt with his old master enough as it was. “He was rather vehement in his stance on the war, so we claimed his injury and ability would make quote useless on the battle field,” he explained.

“His injury?” Anakin echoed.

“From Naboo.”

Anakin nodded in sudden understanding but his gaze was far off, nearly vacant, like there was something happening in his mind, wheels turning that not even Obi-Wan could fathom or comprehend. “I guess that is smart. He wouldn’t have listened anyways,” he confessed. It sounded rather fond, which wasn’t surprising. Anakin’s soft and often blind spot when it came to Master Jinn was always apparent. He loved Master Jinn’s blatant disregard for rules, to follow what he thought and believed was the will of the Force. Whether or not it actually was the Will of the Force, it hardly mattered. It was the will of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Qui-Gon often seemed to believe that he was the only one who really understood the will of the Force.

At this point, everyone was too tired and too busy to even try to argue with him. Not that anyone wanted to argue with him because it never did anything, never got anywhere. One could not change Jinn’s mind, could not shift his perspective or make him think in any other ways.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“I wasn’t forced,” Anakin realized quietly after a long moment of the two sitting in silence, sipping what was left of their tea, not lukewarm. “I wasn’t even asked,” he added.

“That is partially my doing,” Obi-Wan confessed. He knew he would have to have this conversation at some point, and he had been dreading it ever since it had been done.

Anakin surged in anger and Obi-Wan could feel it. It was fairly certain everyone could feel it. The troopers in particular seemed rather sensitive and knowing of a jedi’s moods and projections. “Why?” Anakin demanded. “Did you not think I’d be good enough for-?”

“Anakin, calm down,” Obi-Wan said, quickly slipping in his own before things could get any worse and his projections stronger. “Take a sip of your tea.”

There was not much left but there was enough. Scowling, he complied.

“Qui-Gon was already going to disown me, and I knew how you feel about him, and you were still a padawan at the time…I didn’t want the same to happen to you,” Obi-Wan started. He wasn’t sure how to explain this but he would do his best with what he had on hand.

“I’m not you.”

Ouch, that stung. It was true, of course, in many more ways than Anakin knew, but that hardly made it hurt any less.

“That came out wrong,” Anakin nearly winced.

“You aren’t wrong. You aren’t me,” Obi-Wan said, which, of course, was always true. Lucky him, the master thought. He didn’t say that Qui-Gon loved Anakin in a way that he was still incapable of caring for Obi-Wan. It wasn’t either of their faults and Obi-Wan knew a lot of the blame could be found on Xanatos and the Chosen One prophecy, but that hardly made it any easier to live and deal with. It could very much be exhausting. Anakin didn’t see it, not yet, and Obi-Wan still isn’t entirely sure if he ever would. “But that does not mean he would be happy with it. You know how he feels about the war, about my part in it. About the jedi’s part in it. I didn’t want you to have to go through that. Something even remotely like that. My apologies, I wanted to keep you out of the war best I could. You are so young.”

“I am an adult! A knight!” Anakin’s voice rose into a near screech. So ready, so adamant to prove that he is mature and capable and an adult. Of course, he was capable, but his maturity wasn’t nearly as rounded as he liked to believe, and he often just did not think. He reminded Obi-Wan of Master Jinn this way. It was his way or no way at all. But unlike Master Jinn, at least in the present some of the times, Anakin was also just a bit more inclined to listen to Obi-Wan. Not all the time, of course, because Anakin always thought he was right, but with the right care and nudging and so much patience, Obi-Wan, on occasion, could get through to him on certain subjects.

“Anakin,” he said his name with as much fondness and softness and patience as he could muster. Which, when it came to this boy, was quite a bit. “War is….it is not like any mission you have been on. It is constant and it does not end. There is a goal, but it does not finish there. There is always something else, something so time sensitive. You don’t get to go home after one mission is done, there is always another, linked swinging from one to another. There is so much more violence and death, and it chips off pieces of yourself every moment. It stays with you, long, long after the conflict may be resolved,” he said, and Anakin seemed rather enraptured in what Obi-Wan was saying. He couldn’t understand all of what Obi-Wan was referencing and he wouldn’t understand how this would stay with those who fought in it. Conflict like this, although not to scale, was something Obi-Wan knew, at times, rather intimately. “It is an experience, a pain, a dirt you can never be clean of,” he insisted, swallowing hard. “War is messy, and nothing is so clean cut as people often make it out to be. You keep giving things up; your ability, your mind, your emotions, your morals, your soul, loyalty, trust…. until there is nothing left of you to give. It becomes written in your bones until it is hard to imagine you were anything else. It takes the best things of life, of ourselves, and only gives back the worst and most destructive for us to figure out how to live with.”

[speechlessxx]

Mailing Back The Memories

(Chris Evans x Reader)

Summary: In which the reader reminisces on what was…  

Warnings: self-serve fic, breakup, emotions, slight nudity (but SFW)

Word Count: 2.6k

I hope you guys enjoy!

Your newly purchased bed – that was a full instead of the queen that you grew accustomed to sleeping in – felt too big. Your apartment felt emptier now that his things had been packed up into boxes (that you put off mailing). You never realized how much of his things essentially became yours when he left them behind. He’d always say “keep ‘em, what’s mine is yours” when you brought them up.

You remembered when you came home to your apartment for the first time without him. His jacket that was hung on a kitchen chair welcomed you. Photographs framed were hung on the wall. Polaroids strung through twine like the Pinterest posts you copied. Your cabinets and fridge stored his favorite foods and snacks – that soon became your favorites when your relationship transformed from a fling to a promising future. Even your queen-sized mattress had a Chris-sized impression.

For the first few months, you wallowed in your sorrows. No one could blame you. The relationship was strong, healthy. Neither you nor Chris brought in any toxic traits that nipped at your bond as time went on. Your bond was strong and it felt unbreakable. Communication was effective. Emotions were pure. The intention was to end up at the altar although the question was never officially asked – but everyone knew that’s where you both wanted to go with each other.

None of your friends or family wanted to ask about what led to the relationship’s demise. They were curious, but no one wanted to pry. It wasn’t their business after all. Of course, there were assumptions, but no one truly believed infidelity or toxicity was the cause of the breakup. You and Chris loved each other – anyone could tell just by the way you both would look at one another.

But in truth, every good thing comes to an end. The phone calls became shorter. The getaways were always interrupted. The prying eye of the public wasn’t an issue in your relationship’s earlier days, but when they poked and prodded at your insecurities, it just became too much. When the “I love you”’s felt clipped and forced, you both had to admit something was off. The fire that glowed bright between you slowly faded. And as much as both of you tried to reignite it, the damage was done. And like perfect matches, the relationship had burned out.

It hurt to live in your own apartment, to be surrounded by the memories – his clothes in your dresser and closet, his cologne in your sheets. Hell, even your body didn’t feel like yours. You could still feel his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. Your heart still called out his name on those lonely nights.

But eventually, you found the courage or a faux sense of it – whatever could get you by. With shaky hands, you cleaned up your apartment. You scrubbed at the tiles of the bathroom until they gleamed. You wiped down the wooden floors until they sparkled in the sunlight. You took out the photos in the frames that reminded you of a happier time. The frames were now empty, hanging pictureless on your walls. The twine of Polaroids was taken down completely. The snapshots stored away in a shoebox under the bed. You bought a new mattress – telling yourself you were due for a new one anyway. You opted for a smaller bed, so that it wouldn’t feel as empty (not that it worked. You still felt alone).

You even packed everything that was his into those boxes that sat dauntingly in the corner of your apartment. And although you could fake the confidence – you could tell your friends and family you were doing fine, you could post on Instagram and tweet about new beginnings – you just couldn’t mail back the memories.

It felt like you were closing the door on Chris forever by giving back the pieces of him that you still had.

Like his Red Sox baseball cap –

You laughed and gently slapped the visor of the cap down after Chris made an attempt at a stupid joke. “Hey, hey! Watch it I’m driving!” He retaliated, letting go of your hand to fix the hat. “I’ve already got speeding tickets to pay off. I can’t get into an accident, especially with you in the car.”

You reached over and took his hand in yours, fiddling with his fingers. “You know the hat is a really stupid disguise, right?” You asked. You had the urge to flip the cap off just to annoy him but decided against it, knowing he’d overreact.

“That’s why I’ve got sunglasses,” he said.

“That you don’t wear?”

“There’s no sun.” He clicked his tongue. “I could get you the same hat. We can match!”

You scoffed. “I prefer the Yankees.” You honestly didn’t. You just liked to push his buttons.

He gasped with mock offense. “I think I should just pull over and tell you to walk home.”  He pushed your hand away. You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join your hysterics.

Chris looked over at you. The moonlight was hitting you in a way that made your skin gleam. Your head was thrown back as you laughed, and your eyes squinted from your smiles. You didn’t realize he was still staring at you when you had calmed down. You looked forward and gasped. “Chris, red light!”

His head snapped back towards the road as he passed up the streetlight that glowed the angry color. Thankfully, there were no cars or pedestrians. No one but you and Chris (and maybe the street camera) witnessed it.

“I’m gonna pretend you never said that because I love you.” He told you.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t run the red because I love you … and the Yankees.”

“Ignoring you.”

Or the Montblanc timepiece you bought him for his birthday that he left the very last time he was over –

“You didn’t have to!” He shook his head as he stared down at the watch in awe. “Seriously, babe!”

“No, no! I wanted to get this for you!” You beamed and kissed his cheek.

It was a simple watch. A chestnut brown leather band with gold hardware. It was simple, versatile. Something he could wear on his day to day or for formal events.

“Look on the back!” You urged as he unboxed the watch.

He shook his head and gave you a look of disbelief. He wasn’t into overly flashy things and he didn’t like to put down thousands of dollars on material goods – like a watch. (He owned the same sweatshirt in 2 different colors). Chris loved to spoil his loved ones – he loved to spoil you – but he didn’t know how to react when the tables were turned and he was on the receiving end of expensive gifts.

On the back of the watch, was a small engraving. The man at the store told you that they didn’t do message engravings – “only names and initials,” he told you – but you insisted even when he said that the message would barely be seen.

I love you forever and a day.

It was a stupid, cheesy saying that Chris drunkenly confessed to you one night over the phone back when you two were barely serious. As the relationship heated up, it became a catchphrase, sometimes an apology, a promise. Words that meant the world to both of you.

He began to tear up. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. “Chris, baby, noo! Don’t cry!” You pleaded. “I didn’t think you’d cry!”

He put down the watch and turned his body towards you so that he can engulf you in his arms. You felt wet tears on the skin of your neck where his head took shelter in. You shushed him and robbed the back of his head, soothingly as he cried. You loved how emotional Chris was. He was never afraid to be vulnerable in front of you.

“I love you.” He murmured.

“I love you, baby… Forever and a day.”

Or the painting of you he painted which you had hung over your bed –

“Stay still, (Y/N)!” Chris scolded.

You groaned. “I’ve been posing for the last 2 hours. Are you done, yet?”

“Painting takes time.” He told you. “Stay where you are!”

“The sun’s going down, Christopher.”

Chris had mentioned that he wanted to be a painter when he was younger. You teasingly asked if he was any good – you knew he was (he was good at almost everything). Of course, he never backed down from a challenge.

You regretted saying yes to becoming his personal art model. You didn’t realize you were signing up to sit on an uncomfortable stool nearly stark naked for hours on end. Your arms were aching from holding up the thin scarf that teasingly covered your breasts and draped over your front. Your bottom was sore from sitting on the wooden stool. “I’m getting tired,” you whined. “Couldn’t we just take pictures?”

“No, you wanted to know if I was any good, and besides, painting you in only a scarf is much more intimate.”

“But pictures are intimate, too!” You argued. You had several explicit, teasingly explicit, intimate Polaroids stashed away in your room to prove that. “Plus, I feel like you’re making a Picasso-esque painting and I’m going to be very offended when I take a look.”

“I’m almost done.” He laughed. “And you’re not going to be offended. I promise.” You gave him a playful glare. He seemed a little too confident.

“So, if you’re almost done, can I put on clothes now?” You muttered.

Chris laughed as he glanced up at you from his canvas that was propped up on an easel. He looked you up and down then licked his lips before smirking. “I think I prefer you like this.”

“Perv.”

“Only for you, babe,” he winked before picking up his paintbrush again. He swiped for a few more minutes despite your complaints before dramatically throwing his hands up in the air. “Magnifique!” He exclaimed in – what you assumed to be – a fake French accent. “Come look!”

You hesitantly got up from the stool. Your legs had fallen asleep several times throughout the two hours you were sitting. You covered yourself as best as you could with the sheer scarf – not that Chris minded the view. You made your way over and gasped when you looked over your boyfriend’s shoulder.

Saying that it was “magnifique” was an understatement. No words could describe the artwork in front of you. In fact, you weren’t even sure if Chris had painted you or if Chris painted it at all. He could’ve just bought a painting and had you sit naked in front of him for two hours.

“You did this?” You gaped.

“Duh.” He laughed. “I need to add a few finishing touches. A couple shading here and there. But it’s done. And my poor baby,” he pulled you over to sit on his paint covered lap, “was getting sore and tired.” He kissed your shoulder. “You like?”

“I love!” You said. “I don’t even look like that!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you do. You’re a goddess.” He kissed the part of your neck where it met with your shoulder. “You should model for me more often.”

“I think I just might. It’ll boost my ego.” You joked. “I love it, Chris, really.”

“I love you.”

The boxes were full of memories. Memories you couldn’t just ship off. You couldn’t just let them go.

But months after the breakup and several encouraging speeches from your friends, you finally caved. With a nervous sigh and shaky hands, you put the shipping labels on the boxes. You weren’t sure if you should’ve added a letter – a piece of closure for you and maybe for him – but you decided against it. You weren’t sure if you could write down how you felt without breaking down again and backing out of sending them off.

You needed to do this. If not for him but for you.

-=+=-

When the packages arrived, he was very confused. Who sent him boxes? Did he order anything and just forgot? But when he read the labels, his heart sunk. Your name and address printed in small letters on the corner of the label.

He slowly went through the things. The memories unfolding before him as he unpacked. The baseball cap he thought he had lost, the watch he was desperately looking for days ago to wear for a red carpet (it brought him a sense of comfort. It soothed his anxiety knowing he had a part of you with him during big events – during anything really.), the painting of the goddess that ruled over his heart – and still did.

It hurt him thinking that you spent months probably packing away things he had left in your apartment. It hurt him thinking about you crying as you rediscovered each item again. It hurt him staring at the watch that boldly read the promise you both swore to keep.

Dodger, as if sensing his dad’s anxiousness, nestled against his leg. He looked up at Chris with sad eyes and nudged his leg as if to tell him it’s okay, dad, don’t be sad.

“I should call her, huh, bud?” Chris asked his dog. It’s been months. Months since the relationship ended, since the story was over. The pain should’ve dulled by now – for both of you. But it was still there. A sharp, ache that raged in your hearts.

Chris fumbled with his phone. His finger hovered above the telephone icon with mobile written underneath it. Your contact picture smiled brightly up at him.

Don’t do it. Your picture said to him. Let us heal.

Chris sighed and locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he should shoot you a text and thank you for his things back. He wasn’t sure if he should call you and ask for a second chance – would you even want a second chance?

But instead, Chris decided to do the same.

In the next few days, he packed up each and every one of your items that you left in his house. Toothbrush, hairbrush, clothes, Polaroids that you took of him, of you, of both of you. Everything. He shipped them off with a letter thanking you for sending his things back, telling you that if you ever needed him that he was one phone call or text away. He thanked you for your time together, telling you that it was, truthfully, the best time of his life. He ended it with an I love you forever and a day although he wasn’t sure if he should’ve – if you would’ve wanted to be reminded of your sacred promise to each other.

When he shipped it off, he felt as if his home was hollow. He didn’t realize how much of you he still kept around. But he took a deep breath and nodded to himself. It needed to be done.

Chris walked back up to his bedroom. But he didn’t send everything away… He wasn’t ready to shut the door on forever and a day just yet. He pulled the top drawer of his dresser open and pulled out the scarf from the painting. He inhaled. Your perfume was still strong. It still smelled like you – like happier times. He couldn’t let go of every part of you – not yet.

Similarly, you kept one of his sweatshirts. It was an old one that he slept in. It was years old – you often joked it was older than you. You sometimes slept in it. It still carried his scent. A part of Chris you still kept. Similarly, you weren’t dead set on goodbye either. Perhaps – and you hoped – that this was just a see you later.

But nevertheless, this was a new chapter – for both of you. And if the story were to bring you back together, then you would both welcome that. And if not, you’d welcome that, too.

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Idiot — Sokka x Fem!Reader

Genre: not sure...crack/fluff?

Warnings: none

Words: 2.1k

Summary: after spotting you in the marketplace, Sokka is head-over-heals for you and makes several foolish attempts to woo you.

A/N: I had to do it. This is yet another contribution to @fromthewatertribe’s 1k event! But this time I decided to write something a little silly with my boy Sokka. I used prompt #16: “you are like sunlight.” Enjoy :)

Masterlist

“Wow this marketplace is huge despite being such a small town,” Katara commented.

“Yeah, and it has so many cool things. Look at those pink lemons!” Aang exclaimed, pointing to one of the fruit stalls.

“And these Earth Kingdom hairpieces!” Katara added.

“And that bag over there!” Sokka said. Then, he saw you. “And her...” he said dreamily. Quickly, he approached your stall. Okay, be cool, Sokka. Be cool! he chanted in his mind.

You were organizing your products and making sure everything looked neat, when you heard someone cough to get your attention.

“Helloooo there!” Sokka greeted you in a lower sounding voice. He gave you a smug look and leaned his elbow on the countertop.

Ugh, not one of these guys again, you thought. It didn’t happen often, but it was still annoying when some customers would try to hit on you. Still, you had a job to do, so you put on your customer service smile and played nice. “Hi! How can I help you?”

“Well, I was just…inquiring what wares you were selling in this boutique here,” Sokka replied, still faking his voice.

Seriously?

Katara overheard her brother and stepped in to save you—and him—from an awkward conversation. “Pardon my idiot brother. He’s just interested in that bag over there,” she said, pointing to one of the bags on display. Sokka glared at her.

“Oh! Ahaha, sure thing. That bag is 10 silver pieces.”

“I’ll take it!” Sokka said enthusiastically. As he handed you the money, he tried to think of something clever to say to you. Come on, Sokka, think! Say something that’ll make her fall for you! When you handed him the bag, he got an idea.

With the bag in his hands, he admired it saying “this bag sure is fine, don’t you think?”

“It’s nice, yes,” you simply replied.

“So fine…just like yo—"

“Ugh, for crying out loud!” Katara suddenly groaned. She grabbed Sokka’s arm and dragged him away. “Quit hitting on her and let’s get going, will ya?” You chuckled as the siblings mocked and grumbled at each other while walking away.

“Why did you do that?” Sokka cried.

“Do what? Save you from embarrassing yourself?”

He scoffed, “if anything you embarrassed me!”

Katara groaned and pinched the bridge of her noise. She couldn’t believe how utterly stupid her brother was.

“She was totally into me!” Sokka continued, “didn’t you see the way she looked at me? We were connecting...and then you ruined it!”

“Or maybe she was looking at you, because you were being a complete weirdo.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Idiot,” Katara muttered.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Sokka jeered.

“Spirits, Sokka!” Katara cried, throwing her hands in the air.

The next day, the trio returned to the marketplace to do some more window shopping. Sokka snuck away from the group to talk to you again. He was determined to impress you and win his heart. As he approached your stall again, he devised a plan. Alright, here’s what you’re going to do, Sokka. You’re going to go up to her, introduce yourself, get her name, and then ask her out. Easy peasy!

Whistling as he walked, Sokka went up to your stall. “Oh heyyyy,” he said with a grin on his face.

“Hey,” you greeted. He leaned on the countertop just like he did yesterday. You noticed he was sporting the bag he had bought from you.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

You giggled. “I do actually. You’re the silly guy who bought that bag from me yesterday,” you remarked, pointing to the bag.

“Yeah! Yeah...uh, the name’s Sokka. I’m from the Southern Water Tribe,” he said, extending his hand. You reluctantly shook it.

“I’m [y/n]. I live here.”

“That makes sense! Uh, you work here; therefore, you live here!” he commented awkwardly. He was trying to make conversation, but was clearly failing at it. You actually found it funny, not his comment, but the fact that he was making such a fool of himself again. None of the guys who hit on you were like this. You decided to play along purely for entertainment.

“Yes, that’s right. I’ve lived here all my life,” you said.

“Wow, that’s amazing!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! You know what else is amazing?”

“What?”

“You,” he said with a wink.

Okay, that was kind of smooth…but I’m not giving in just yet, you thought. “Why? Because I sell bags every day?” you playfully asked.

“Yeah!” Sokka immediately responded without thinking. Then, he dreadfully realized what you said. “Well, I mean, um…that is interesting, yes. But uh…” Sokka stuttered, trailing off. His plan wasn’t working out so well. You didn’t respond the way he expected you too. By now he should’ve asked you out, but now he was off track, and didn’t know how to recover.

“So, uh, are you here to buy something? Or…” you asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Shoot! I’m losing her. I need to think of something quick! He racked his brain, trying to come up with something witty or funny to say. “No, no...I’m, uh...um...” he scratched his head. Nothing came to mind. It was time to abort mission. “You know what? I forget. Bye!”

And he bolted. You kind of felt bad for him. That Water Tribe boy was trying his best to flirt with you. It was too bad he sucked at it. But at the same time, it was funny.

Sokka ran through the streets of Shí Zhèn. He needed a new plan, but he couldn’t think of anything. He needed help, but he couldn’t ask his sister for advice, because he knew Katara would tell him to leave you alone. That left only one other person: the 12-year-old, very inexperienced Avatar. I’m so screwed! he groaned. But he had no choice; he needed to find Aang.

At last, he spotted him at one of the marketplace stalls.

“Hey, Aang!” he shouted.

“Hi, Sokka! Check out this tiny sweater I found. I think it’s supposed to be for babies, but it fits Momo perfectly!” Aang smiled. He held up Momo to show off the little green sweater wrapped around Momo’s small body. Momo chirped happily.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fantastic,” Sokka quickly said, unimpressed. “Listen, you have no game, but you’re also a wise guy. I need your help.”

“Um, thanks, I guess? What’s up?” asked Aang.

Sokka sighed, lovestruck. “This girl at the marketplace...her name’s [y/n]. Everything about her is stunning: her face, her hair, her voice…so stunning that I keep making a fool of myself in front of her.”

“Aw, that’s so cute Sokka! Isn’t love a wonderful thing?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, so how do I impress her without being an idiot?” Sokka wanted to get straight to the point.

Aang thought for a moment. He had virtually no experience in the dating world. In fact, he was struggling with his own crush on Katara. “Well, the advice you once gave me was to not be too nice and act aloof, but—”

“That’s it! Thanks, Aang!” shouted Sokka as he ran off.

Sokka rushed back to your stall. When he got within sight of it, he slowed to a stroll. Then, he proceeded to walk past your stall multiple times while acting aloof. Every time he did, he would look at you from a safe distance to see if he caught your attention.

To him, it seemed you hadn’t noticed him. The truth was that his new tactic was so painfully obvious and cringey that you pretended not to see him.

Still determined, Sokka approached your stall and pretended to look at the bags on display. Well, if he’s going to play pretend, then I will too, you decided. And so, you put on that customer service smile again and acted oblivious to him.

“Welcome back,” you greeted him.

“Hi,” Sokka said curtly. He didn’t even look up at you.

This’ll be good, you thought. “What brings you here again?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just looking, I guess,” he stated in a bored tone.

“Okay. Well, I see you’re looking at the wicker bag. That one’s pretty popular.” He merely grunted as a reply. You continued. “It’s made of rattan. Very durable, water resistant, easy to clean, and holds a lot. What do you think?”

“Meh, it seems alright.”

“Just alright? Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“Eh, nothing really.”

At this point, you were entertained enough. You were done playing around. “You’re funny, you know.”

“Huh?” Sokka was completely caught off guard.

“Yeah! Flirting with me, and then suddenly acting like you don’t have a care in the world. I think it’s funny.”

“Oh...” was all Sokka could say. I’ve screwed myself again, haven’t I? he worried.

You leaned on the countertop, getting closer to Sokka. “Want to know what else I think?”

“Uh...”

“I think you’re trying too hard. I don’t normally let guys hit on me, because they’re usually creepy about it, but you’re actually nice and funny. Instead of pretending to be someone you’re not, I think you should just be yourself when you ask me out.”

“Wow,” Sokka muttered in astonishment, “even when you call me idiot, it’s amazing.”

You burst out laughing. “See? You’re funny! And, yeah, I didn’t want to say that out loud, but...you read my mind.”

“Alright, I’m going to start over!” Sokka decided. Dramatically, he did a jump and spin, then threw his hands in the air and beamed as if he transformed into his true self.

“Hi there! My name’s Sokka,” he said with newfound confidence. “Has anyone ever told you that you are like sunlight?”

You threw your head back and laughed again. He gave you look of confusion.

“You’re so goofy!” you laughed, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s really sweet though, keep going!” you begged him.

“Okay,” he chuckled, “well, I think you and me should hang out tonight. What do you think? We could walk through the streets, eat dinner, stargaze,” he said, hands waving in the air as he spoke.

You put your finger to your chin, pretending to deeply consider his offer. “Hmm, I don’t know, goofball,” you mumbled sarcastically, while dramatically rolling your eyes.

Sokka smirked knowingly. “Oh, come on, sunshine. You know you can’t resist silly Sokka!” he said playfully. To top it off, he scrunched up his sleeves and flex his arms. When he gave you a cheeky grin and bounced his eyebrows up and down, you cracked up once more.

“Pft, okay, goofball. You’ve won my heart. Meet me here at sunset!” you cheered.

“YES!” Sokka shouted before jumping in the air and clicking his heals victoriously. If he could do a backflip, he probably would’ve done one right then and there. “Uh, I mean...great! I’ll see you then,” he said, pointing finger guns at you as he backed away into the crowds.

Tired from wandering and shopping, Katara and Aang relaxed in their room at the local inn. Suddenly, the door was forcefully kicked opened.

“Guys, I did it!” Sokka announced as he leaped into the room. Katara and Aang stared at him wide-eyed like a startled deer-dog. Then, they glanced at each other, unsure of what he was talking about.

“Did what?” they both asked.

“I have a date with [y/n],” he sighed dreamily. If heart eyes were real, they would be popping up on his face.

“That’s great, Sokka! I’m so glad everything worked out for you,” Aang smiled.

At first, Katara felt out of the loop, then she realized who he must’ve been talking about. “Oh, don’t tell me you harassed and that poor girl again!” she facepalmed.

“Oh, no, no, we chatted for a bit. She thinks I’m hilarious!” Sokka exclaimed.

“She must’ve lied,” Katara concluded.

“Nuh-uh, she was cracking up at my jokes,” Sokka assured. “By the way, Aang, your advice sucked.”

“Actually, it was your own advice...which you gave to me,” Aang carefully explained.

“Well...ugh, whatever! It doesn’t matter anymore. I have a date tonight that I need to get ready for. Later, losers!”

After the door closed, Katara shook her head and sighed, “why is my brother like this?”

[horanghaechan]

Freedom (Johnny) - final

pairing: Demon!Johnny x Dancer!You (female character)

word count: around 6k

synopsis: After dancing at NCT’s party and having a private session with Johnny, you find yourself in a different situation. 

Inspired by Freedom - Kris Wu ft Jhené Aiko.

(Part 1 here)

[a/n]: i actually had a side-blog once and posted it there but i got author’s block and deleted everything. anyway, i’m rather proud of this scenario so i decided to post it again lol

You say you want some freedom You ain't got a leash on, you ain't coming home But where you wanna go You already know We can blow a creeper on the low I’ll be on my throne Tryna take it slow Guess you can control, let's play

 On rainy days, Y/N would rant about having to go to college in such a weather, then she would eat a schwarma and watch a good “Vines Compilation” until her mood was slightly better. Chances were that, if the “Bewitched boy vine” or the Mexican kid screaming "Alguien se comió mi torta” were in them, she’d smile.

However, since Johnny Seo happened, Y/N didn’t do any of that.

And that was three months ago.

“You’re really refusing a ride for college in this shitty weather?!” Yuta rolled his eyes.

“I’m refusing dying for a second time, Yuta.” Y/N chuckled.

“I won’t pick you up if the storm gets stronger, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She opened the door of her apartment. “Before you leave, turn  the lights off.”

“Why don’t you move back to our house?”

“Because I can’t stand Youngho.” Y/N quipped. “Don’t forget the lights, dear!”

“I’ll pick you up at 9PM, college’s main door. One minute late and you’ll go back home all alone and in the rain.” Yuta yelled while she was leaving.

“Thank you.” She grinned, knowing he would always play hard to get.

  Later that night…

When Johnny heard a loud – excited – scream coming from Lucas, he knew she was there. It took her almost two months to come back... But who was counting, huh?

He pushed the girl out of his lap and barely looked at her while he dressed back.

“You gotta leave.”

“What?” The blonde beauty glared at him, shocked.

“You gotta leave. I need to address to an important matter right now.”

“B-but you said you didn’t have any business today!”

“Turns out I do.” He sighed. “Hurry up, I’ll escort you to the door.”

The girl pouted, but it didn’t make him change his mind. His attention drifted to the new female demon that had entered his property, the one that made his blood boil. He checked himself in the big mirror, feeling extremely hypnotising and sensual. Obviously, Y/N would pretend not to feel a thing, but he wanted her to be a bit shaken by his appearance. They didn’t part in good terms, so Johnny decided to give her a sample of the life she lost by gently telling him “to fuck off” and storming out of the room like a crazy ex-girlfriend. While closing his door, he made sure the sound was loud. When he walked to the stairs, he could hear Taeyong and Yuta saying something about ‘kitchen’ and there was a small silence. Perfect for his dramatic entrance.

Y/N looked up to the foyer at the sound of steps, her insides tightening at the sight of Seo Youngho. Then, right behind him, there was a tall, golden-haired lady that looked like a model.

“Cassiopeia is leaving.” Johnny announced in that hypnotic voice of his.

“I thought she had just arrived?!” Lucas frowned.

“Turns out she has some stuff to do.”

The girl looked so offended by his remark but didn’t object to any of it.

“Oh, ok then.” Lucas shrugged. “Y/N, Doyoung and I are going up to play some games, she’ll sleep over. Yuta and Tae are cooking dinner. Wanna join us?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “Bye, Cassiopeia.”

And without a word, he left her alone in the staircase. She made an ‘I’m offended’ sound and came to the main floor, looking at Y/N and Lucas in pure annoyance.

“Johnny said he didn’t have anything to do, but then he kicks me out… What is happening, Lucas?” She inquired, trying to pout cutely.

“How would I know that, dear?” Lucas ventured, dismissing her with a soft grin. “C’mon Y/N, I’ve bought the French deck so you can teach me that truco game.”

Truco is a card game for two, four or six players, who shout a lot and make signs to tell their partner what cards they had. It’s a popular game in Latin American countries, with some regional differences, but funny either way. She was used to play that with her friends, Inez being the one that taught them how to. Since she couldn’t see the girls ever so often, Y/N decided that she would teach the boys, so whenever she felt like playing, she’d have company.

When Lucas opened his bedroom door, Johnny was there – his silky black hair parted in the middle and the white button-up shirt with the three first ones unbuttoned. Y/N felt as if she was punched in the stomach, his beauty too much for her own good.

“What are we playing?” Johnny asked.

“Nothing.” She replied. “Actually, I’ll go to the kitchen to help Yuta and Taeyong.”

“Are you really going to run away every time we meet?” Johnny pouted. “I didn’t take you as a coward, mei fortuna.”

“And I didn’t take you as a joke, Youngho, but look at where we are now?!” She spat.

“Ok, I’m gonna get Doyoung and when I come back, I want everyone behaving politely and pretending to be friends, huh?!” Lucas spoke slowly, as if he was talking to small, naughty children.

He left the room, closing the door with a dry sound. Y/N sighed, throwing herself on his bed and facing the ceiling in a stupid attempt to ignore the male demon.

“So, how’s life?” Johnny tried going for a small talk.

“Pretty good.” Y/N muttered. She intended to sound rude.

“Did Yuta tell you about the party this weekend?”

“He did, yes.”

“You coming?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” She looked at her nails, pretending to be uninterested.

“You can’t possible think about living only with your friends’ sins, Y/N. What if they notice you’re always the reason they start gossiping?”

“I don’t live off of only gossips. People commit sins every hour, duh.”

“You manipulate them to commit small sins, then?” Johnny laughed. “That isn’t enough.”

“Well, you should’ve thought better before ruining my life and turning me into a demon. I prefer doing things this way, it’s easier and doesn’t make my conscience ashamed.”

“Are you kidding me? You make your friends sin! What type of conscience is that?”

“And what about you? Do you even have one? You, I quote again, ruined my fucking life!”

“Aw, don’t be petty. At least I did it for myself and never pretended to have done with for something or someone else.” The corner of his mouth quirked up and she rolled her eyes. 

What was she expecting, to begin with? That he killed her to save his friends?! To save the world?! Ha, ha.

“See? And I’m doing this for myself too.”

“You won’t be powerful enough if you keep doing it.”

“I don’t intend to be powerful enough.”

“Are you sure?” Youngho tilted his head to the side, only the tiniest bit, but it drove her crazy.  That horrible man was so sarcastic and so arrogant… Ugh! She wanted to choke him!

Doyoung walked in with Lucas, automatically putting an end to their discussion.

“Let the games begin!” He shouted happily.

Y/N really tried not to get affected by Johnny’s presence, but it was impossible. She couldn’t stop remembering everything. Every fucking thing.

The tension when they met, how she was so hypnotised by him at first glance. Her dance and his eyes on her all the time. When they flirted. When she rejected him. The lap dance. When they kissed. When they fucked and how amazing, ethereal, unique that was… Then she died because of him. Fuck, it was so hard to accept the truth! Only being able to live because she took advantage of others and made them sin… She even brought her loved ones into the mess! What kind of disgusting creature would even do that?

But demons were like that and the faster she learned to deal with it, the better.

Also, there was one more thing bothering her: if she hadn’t arrived, Johnny would’ve slept with that Cassiopeia girl… Right? She said he kicked her out when they arrived.

Y/N felt the need to vomit.

“You seem a bit off, dear.” She was surprised by Doyoung’s soothing voice and the petname. Normally, Lucas was the one to be affectionate (and caring).

“I’m tired from college, so I can’t get into my competitive mode and make the game funnier.”

“How many months until it ends?”

“Two, thank God.” She chuckled, earning three smirks in response.

“You’re really a believer now.” Johnny teased her, knowing she would get annoyed.

“I actually had no other option.” Y/N’s tone was dry and she refused to look at him.

“Well, I’m sure the supper is almost ready, so what about we stop the game for now and go to the kitchen? If you eat you’ll get a boost of energy.” Doyoung held her hand, shocking her even more. 

Did the boys actually feel sorry for her having to put up with Johnny?!

“Agreed.” Lucas shook his head. “Let’s go, princess.”

Youngho was frowning due to Doyoung’s odd behaviour, but it got unbearable thanks to Lucas’ boldness. What the fuck was wrong with his friends? Did Y/N need to be pampered and treated as the most delicate flower now?

If he was going to be honest with himself – which he was not –, he'd admit that he was a bit jealous. Y/N didn’t need sugar-coated treatment; she liked things rough, she was tough and cold when she needed to be, and knew how to put people in their place. A woman like her should be treated as a goddess, not as a fragile lady. And, well, Johnny knew how to treat her right. He knew exactly what to do to make her squirm, to capture all of her attention, to crawl under her skin. Unfortunately, since they were connected by her transformation, he was sure Y/N knew what to do to him as well…

Even though she never seemed interested in using it to her favour.

That was the saddest thing about turning people into demons: you created a bond with them; so you could feel when they are struggling, when they’re excited, when they’re mad or happy... That’s why less and less demons offered or agreed to do so; it was too much trouble. When Y/N woke after “dying” and they talked, Johnny went out to find more experienced demons who could help him figure out what really had happened, but there wasn’t much information about what happened when someone becomes demon without selling their soul and requesting to come back as one of them. Then, he wasn’t able to answer all of her questions and Y/N freaked out, deciding she had enough and was wasting her time... So she left him.

Him.

She didn’t leave Yuta, Taeyong, Lucas or Doyoung.

She left just him.

Moreover, it was a hard punch on his ego. No one ever left him, he left them.

When they sat down for dinner, Y/N was between Yuta and Lucas, looking more relaxed than before. She loved Taeyong’s food because it was always homemade and he usually cooked dishes she could use as “comfort food”; besides, that’s what eating meant to her: comfort. He had prepared dough soup (sujibae), mushrooms, courgettes and garlic bread as sides, and for dessert chocolate lava cake. 

Yuta poured her some soup while she devoured in one bite the bread.

“Do you live in hunger?” He joked.

“Only when the weather is shitty.” Y/N stated. “Oh God, Tae, I love your food!”

“I’m glad I can help.” The leader smiled lovingly. “Did you have fun playing cards?”

“No, dear, not at all.” She shook her head. “Would you ever be so kind to pass me the mushrooms, Dodo?” The adorable smile she gave Doyoung (and that hideous petname) made Johnny scow. 

What the fuck was happening there?

“Should we start with the British accent as well?! Maybe some Regency outfits and a full decoration?” Doyoung joked, handling her the mushroom bowl.

“Capital! That would be precious.” Y/N leaned forward, a hand on her heart and eyes twinkling. “I’d like to be called ‘Your Grace’ or ‘milady’.”

“Holy fuck!” Lucas tried to muffled a laugh. “Suits you perfectly, tho. However, since I’ve always been calling you ‘princess’ I might have to stick with ‘Your Highness’, huh?”

“The higher the better.” She winked.

“Damn, you’re still here but I’m already missing you so much!” Yuta bawled. “Please, come back home! You’ll be safer and happier here, I swear.”

“Agreed.” Lucas and Doyoung said at the same time.

She felt her heart warm up with that. It was awesome living together with them – unfortunately, she didn’t want to put up with all the trouble Johnny brought her, and he sure would. Also, what would she do if he showed up with girls night after night? She couldn’t spend the whole day in the bedroom and the boys would think she was sick or going officially crazy… Yes, of course she could talk about Johnny with any of them, but she didn’t want to. Talking about him would make things more real… And she preferred to ignore it.

“You know I can’t, Yuta.” She was about to change subjects when she earned the puppiest ‘puppy eyes’ look of all them: Taeyong. “Stop, Tae! Don’t look at me like that! It’s not good for the baby.”

“Which baby?” He paled.

“Me.” Her mouth twitched.

Lucas chuckle soon turned into a laugh and soon everyone started laughing too… Everyone but Johnny. His eyes were bored into her, trying to tore her skin and uncover all truth she had hidden – sincerely, with the intensity of that gaze, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was naked.

  Johnny left her mouth, his strong body hovering over her and his hand kept its work. Y/N felt her heart beating loudly thanks to the pleasure.

It had to be the pleasure.

‘We’re not doing things your way.’ She moaned.

‘Are you sure?’ There he was again, being the stupidly arrogant man he was.

‘We’re not.’ Y/N tried to assure her own head.

‘Aw, I think we will.’ His long digit eased its way inside her, making Y/N’s eyes shut automatically. The hideous man! ‘What do you say?’

‘Stop, Youngho, that’s what I say. Stop.’

He paused as instructed but his finger was still in her.

Y/N abruptly shifted on the bed, the wet dream still painfully alive on her memory. She looked to the side – Lucas, as the heavy sleeper he was, didn’t even flinch at her agony. Leaving the mattress, she grabbed her night-robe and decided that the kitchen was the best place to deal with frustrations… Or whatever “wet dreams” should be classified.

  She was in the middle of preparing hot chocolate when she heard steps.

“Oh, you’re here.” Johnny’s voice sent shivers down her spine.

“Youngho.” Y/N breathed in.

“Y/N.”

“Why are you here?”

“Am I not allowed to enter my own kitchen?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m here because I was hungry and smelled chocolate, so I thought Tae was having a midnight-crisis and wanted to bake something to chill out.” He shrugged. “Anyway, mei fortuna, what about you? What made you wake up so early? A wet dream?” He smiled innocently at her, doing his best to look uninterested.

“How the fuck did you know?”

“I’m connected to you, I told you already.”

“Yeah, in a really dumb and weak way.” She sneered. “Stop reading my mind, then.”

“I’m not reading it; what the fuck do you take us for?! We’re not in Twilight!” Johnny crinkled his nose. “You died in lust and greed, that’s why these are more intense in your life now. And, not to be nosy, you need to fuck often.”

“Oh my fucking God.” She rolled her eyes, turning off the stove.

“You’ve been calling Him a lot.”

“Yeah, I found out He’s the only one listening to my complaints, currently.”

“Aren’t your soldiers working hard to grant each one of your wishes?”

“My soldiers?”

“Lucas, Yuta, Taeyong and Doyoung. I’ve never seen them this devoted.”

“They aren’t my soldiers, but I won’t apologize for the way they treat me.” She smiled coyly. “If it bothers you, I suggest you mind your own business, then.”

“It is quite hard to mind my own business when they’ve been all petnames and sugar-coated actions on you.” Johnny stated matter-of-factly. “You don’t need this.”

“What are you trying to suggest? That I don’t deserve to be pampered?!”

“Precisely.” He agreed. “You don’t like that.”

“Do you even listen to yourself sometimes?” She scoffed, offended.

“Mei fortuna, you like roughness and choking, you like playing the femme fatale and you like the idea of being in control even when you know that it ain’t true.” Johnny raised a brow. “Or am I wrong? Do you really enjoy those ‘princesses’ and ‘dears’ and ‘sweethearts’?”

“Judging by this I suppose you call me a whore when you go on with your ‘Mei fortuna’ thing, right?!”

Johnny’s eyes lighted up in surprise. He thought she would know by now, but that wasn’t the case.

“Actually it’s a Latin expression that means ‘My luck’… Since you’re my lucky charm.”

She didn’t mean to be touched by it. She didn’t even like what it represented… But she, somehow, felt her heart getting warm and small.

Oh, for fuck sakes, the man was hideous!

“Hmpf. Well.” She stuck her nose in the air, dismissing him. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Without your hot chocolate?”

“You can have it.”

“Are you coming to the party this Saturday?”

“Perhaps I will.” Y/N disappeared into the hall, leaving Johnny with a smug smile.

It was flattering that she had a wet dream with him and felt bothered by it. He couldn’t wait to put his hands on her again… And he would make sure to do it on Saturday.

  ●●●

Yuta had showed Y/N all the possible souls she could buy or feed off. He knew how to handle her and how to make it all seem less horrible – which she preferred.

“You have to feed yourself, love. Properly.” He had told her, compassion shining on his dark eyes.

Yuta was right, as expected. After corrupting two souls, her body felt stronger, alive. And the feeling was addictive; she wanted to keep doing that for ages.

Congrats Y/N, you’re a hideous being. – her conscience screamed.

A tall man walked past the group she was talking to, the dark blue suit so beautiful and shiny that it caught her attention. Her eyes went straight up to the man’s face… Just to find out he wasn’t a stranger at all. Of course Seo Youngho would be walking around as if he was God himself. They exchanged glances and Y/N felt another type of hunger.

Damn, she would give everything to get dicked down by him (again).

With a handshake, she dismissed her targets and approached Devil.

“Youngho.”

“Y/N. You came.”

“Not really.” She couldn’t help but rejoice in his grin.

“That can be arranged.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it can.” She shook her head positively. “These guys are really easy to convince. In fact, Yuta showed me some of them, and the rest happened almost automatically.”

“So no more gossips? Are you eating properly?”

“Wanna check out?”

“No, no. I might get jealous.” He gave her a half smile. “But I’m glad you’re finally doing it right.” His eyes turned slowly into the devilish cognac colour, shining with wickedness and proudness, and Y/N felt her throat burn with desire.

That man was impossible.

“Isn’t Cassandra around?” Right after asking, Y/N felt stupid and childish.

“Cassiopeia?” Johnny looked at her with humour. “I don’t think she will come. She’s mad at me and I’m not in the mood to deal with humans.”

“But are you in the mood for demons?”

“It depends. Are they female?”

“Maybe…”

“Interesting. What else?”

“It’s just a possibility, though.” Y/N started cautiously. “I mean, you’re really arrogant and I’m still fed up with all that happened months ago – but maybe, and I stress it, maybe, I want us to fuck.” She blushed. “The wet dream and all…”

Johnny smirked.

“Wanna discuss it somewhere private?”

“Please.” She agreed.

  They got inside Johnny’s chamber and Y/N remembered the day she went there for the first time. Apparently, even though she didn’t sleep with him that night, it was bound to happen. And now, luckily, she would lay on that wicked bed and do wicked things with Mr. Wicked.

“Why are you still mad?”

“I’m having a hard time concealing my demon shit with my previous life. Now that I’m eating properly, it downed on me it’s real, you know?!”

“Yeah, it is tricky in the beginning.” He chuckled. “But I don’t see why you should stay mad at that, nor at me.”

“Oh, of course you only turned me into this, but where’s the problem, huh?!”

“Are we having this conversation again?”

“Well, I apologize for not fully adapting into a life I didn’t ask for!” Her tone was sarcastic, but the way her brows knotted together made her just cute.

He could feel her anger and her lust… Oh, she was so adorable! He couldn’t help himself.

“Y/N, look, I know you didn’t ask for it and I know you’re annoyed by what happened but there’s no way to reverse it. So, instead of being bitter and petty forever, why don’t you enjoy what was given to you? You have powers, you can manipulate lives and destinies… And you have me.”

“What?” Her jaw dropped.

“Well, I’m here to fuck you senseless, aren’t I?”

“I-I kinda hope so… I guess.”

“Then let’s close the topic. After I'll fuck your brains out, I think you’ll be able to see things clearer, alright?” Johnny locked the door. “Now be a good girl and strip for me. This skirt is driving me nuts.” He gestured to her leather skirt.

Her hands went to the clothing piece, but she stopped mid-way.

“What?” Johnny inquired.

“I was thinking… I’ve stripped for you once and did a lap dance.” She tilted her head to the side. “Would it be too greedy of me if I ask you to take them off yourself?”

He hesitated for a brief second, then smirked.

“It would be a pleasure.”

Y/N felt her heart beating fast while he approached her – those long fingers going straight to her cropped top. Her boobs fell down, free from the fabric, and Johnny’s mouth watered at the sight. He played with one nipple, feather touches, just to tease. Y/N was too focused on his alcoholic yellow eyes to try to make him stop with the teasing.

“You make me so thirsty, Youngho.”

Something in the way she said his name – as if it was a prayer – ignited him inside.

“For what?” One of his hands travelled up to her chin, cupping it.

“For cognac.” She closed her eyes and breathed in. “For kisses.” And then when she looked at him again, her irises were also yellow. “For you.”

He kissed her urgently, passionately, violently. It had been months since he felt something like that… Something so right. It couldn’t be just because he transformed her; he had that feeling long before. However, Johnny didn’t want to analyse anything but her body… Well, not yet. He tugged on her skirt, pulling it down slowly. Stopping the kiss to look at her in her burgundy lace set, he sighed contently. Oh, he would devour her.

“What?” Y/N questioned.

“Nothing. It’s just that you are too pretty for your own good.”

“And you’re too dressed for my own good.” She giggled.

“Well, do you want me to strip?” His voice was pure mockery, but his eyes were predatory.

“If you’d ever be so kind, sir.”

“Oh.” He smiled, his body beginning to withdraw from hers. “Then if you allow me to be greedy too, I have a request.”

“I thought you were the boss here.”

“Normally, yes. But once in a lifetime I can let someone else play the role… That being said, can you call me ‘Youngho’ or ‘Johnny’ as for tonight? Nothing about ‘sir’ or ‘Devil’.”

“That’s an odd request coming from you, sir, but I can comply.”

“Alright. Now that we’re settled, maybe you should sit down… I won’t be able to catch you if you faint while I strip.” He blinked in fake innocence, which made Y/N grin.

She didn’t want to argue with him right now. They were teasing each other and it felt good, not resentful like it has been for the past months. Even though calling him by his name would make things way more intimate, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Also, she needed a proper fuck. She needed someone like Johnny; and she didn’t want to ruin everything before she had an orgasm. 

When Y/N sat down on his bed and it was as if she was embraced by pure lust. She touched the black satin sheets and smiled to herself… She had a set that looked like that, and it was her favourite one. Then she looked up and forgot how to breathe. Handsome boys undressing from their suits should be elected as the first of the Seven Wonders of the World. After taking out his jacket, Johnny started unbuttoning his shirt, loving the way Y/N followed his fingers as if she was under hypnosis. He threw it aside, hands now on his belt, and Y/N licked her lips.

“Holy fuck, let me do it.” She reached out for him, but he slapped her hand.

“No, no. This is my time to shine, mei fortuna. You asked for a strip and you’ll get one.”

“You’re taking too long!”

“You took two months and a whole ass song! I’m not even gonna take four minutes.”

“My tongue is impatient.” She nagged. “Please, Youngho.”

“What does your tongue have to do with it?”

“I want to lick every inch of you, that’s the problem!”

He chuckled, finding her eagerness so adorable that he gave up. “Oh, ok then. Guess you can control now.”

Y/N wanted to take her time with his body, so she started from his neck. Getting up, she let her hands touch his shoulders while her mouth went to his chin and collarbones. Oh, he was delicious and addictive! What a horrible, hideous man! Johnny’s chest rose, breathing in, closing his eyes to enjoy the caress properly. Her tongue left small licks all over his torso, getting lazier with every step further down, next to his belt. One warm hand got rid of his trousers in a quick move, leaving him with his underwear. Y/N smiled to herself, undressing him from his last piece of clothes. Without warning, she swirled her tongue over his shaft, receiving a raspy grunt in response. She looked up, repeating the movement, slower. Youngho sighed, feeling shivers run through his body. He watched, mesmerised, Y/N start to suck him off, swallowing him as far as she could handle. He tightened the grip on her head, but not moving at all, because it was her time to dictate the rhythm. Her large nails clawed at his thighs and the shivers intensified. He let out a loud groan as Y/N squeezed her testicles lightly, testing them. Johnny leaned against the wall, succumbing to the pleasure, but his attention remained on her, unable to take his eyes off the wonderful scene that Y/N was sucking his dick.

She guided his wrist to her hair, not really needing to “be in control” to make him cum. Johnny accepted it as if he needed to be tugging on her hair tightly for his life. He kept her head still and started to fuck her mouth. Y/N looked up again, and her eyes were so lustful that it was more than he could bear; Youngho was never prepared to see her as beautiful and disposed as she was in sex. He really wanted her to be in Louvre, the most precious paint to ever be shown.

“Can I cum in your mouth, mei fortuna?” He asked, wiping a small tear from her eye, his thumb caressing her cheekbone while he kept thrusting inside.

She shook her head positively the best she could, due to their position. It didn’t take much to make Johnny cum – he got out slightly, so he could see his seed filling her mouth. It was all too erotic, too lustful, so right. He watched Y/N eagerly lick her mouth, giggling. Without giving him more time to take enjoy of the scene, Y/N stood up.

“I think you should lay down, Youngho.”

“Anything you want, love.” Johnny mocked her, doing as she suggested. “What are you going to ride tonight?”

Y/N tried to pretend she wasn’t surprised he guessed what was going to happen. “Your face, and then your cock... If you behave.”

Johnny chuckled. “The only noise you’re going to listen from me is my mouth devouring you, I promise.”

It took her a deep breath to start moving. Her heart was beating so fast and she was so anxious to have his mouth on hers that she, for a moment, thought she wouldn’t handle it. Y/N passed one leg on either side of his face, slowly going down before sitting on that pretty mouth. His tongue began to move, the friction and speed so wonderful that it made her moan loudly. That was so much better than what she had imagined. Holding on the headboard, Y/N tried to focus entirely on the sensations. Youngho licked her like a lazy cat, sucking ever so often on her clit and letting one hand rest on her thigh. When she felt fully enchanted, her hips started moving slightly, riding his face as she had warned before. Johnny growled, his tongue speeding up.

“If you suffocate, please just throw me aside.”

He pushed his face further on her pussy, as a response. Y/N’s eyes flew shut, the orgasm building quickly. Oh, the hideous man he was! Her body just couldn’t get enough of him! She gasped, tipping her head back, enjoying the tight grip on her stomach. Somehow, he smacked her butt and it was everything she needed to fall into the pool of pleasure.

Johnny didn’t wait for Y/N to calm down. He gently pushed her to the side and sat down, bringing her to his lap, kissing her hungrily. In a matter of second, she was already aligning herself in his member. His eyes brightened in anticipation. It was incredible how anything made by her became an intense erotic act. Her breasts arched forward while she sunk on his dick, and he took them in his hands, squeezed them, sucking her nipples and leaving little bites that made Y/N moan loudly. He stared at the spot where they met, feeling pure bliss. The first thrust was so precise that she ran out of air. Only Johnny could touch her in the right way, make her feel right. At that moment, while the two were together, Y/N did not think about her problems or their complicated relationship; she concentrated only on Youngho and all the wonderful things that made her feel. How desperate she had been for him, and it seemed to get worse over time. Staring into his alcoholic eyes, Y/N began rock against him, increasing their pleasure. She was still sensitive from the past orgasm and that was enough to make her hungry for another. Johnny grabbed her hip, the noise of thrusts being louder than the grunts and gasps they let loose. She ran her hands down his tanned backs then wrapped them around his neck, still grinding, but she lost some speed as he lowered his face and sucked one of her nipples. It was hard to focus on only one place in her burning body. She began to quiver, her nails digging into his shoulder and indicating her orgasm.

“Here.” Youngho took her hands on his, intertwining their fingers. “To keep you steady, love.”

The petname was too much.

He should come back with ‘Mei fortuna’ or anything that remembered her of who they truly was… But ‘Love’ was too much. ‘Love’ made her heart feel warm and melt. ‘Love’ made her think she could never stay a day without looking at those yellow eyes.

Y/N gave in to the spasms and searched for air as she reached her high – she was far away, plunged into absolute delight. No more than a minute later, she felt Johnny's arms hold her down, laying her on her back while he climbed up and shoved into her again. Y/N let out a little shriek from the surprise thrust. The strength in which he held her would leave marks, but Youngho was too eager for release to care. When he came, he moaned loud his hips slowing down only a bit. He grinned, sticking his forehead to hers and opened his eyes.

“One time I heard Lucifer is the prettiest being alive.” She murmured, hypnotised. “Are you sure your name is Youngho?”

“I am, Y/N.”

“Damn, if he is prettier than you than I hope to never meet him.”

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s good when you don’t die after we fuck.”

“It only happened once.” She groaned. “Are you really going to ruin the mood?”

“It keeps me from doing something crazy.”

“Such as?”

“Asking you to move back home… Asking you to stay.” He shrugged, getting out of her.

Y/N sat down, shocked. “What to do you mean?”

“I thought fucking you would make you come to your senses, but turns out it backfired.”

“Youngho, I don’t have time for metaphors.”

“Maybe demons do fall in love, Y/N, and maybe I’ve fallen for you.”

She choked, too surprised to answer or pretend to be fine with what he said.

“And maybe that’s why you didn’t officially die when I corrupted you.” Youngho ruffled his hair, wiping a bit of the sweat off. “I don’t know, honestly. Nothing like this happened to my friends that corrupted beings of light, but none of them felt this drawn into their victims.” He approached her, holding her chin up and looking into her now yellow eyes. “When we met… When you left two months ago… It was you from the beginning, Just Y/N, not your light.”

Oh, the hideous, horrible man!

And just like that, he had her heart wrapped around his finger.

[chelsfic]

Part Six - Wish You Weren’t Here - Diego Jiménez x Reader - Starz Power

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

A/N: Here is some much needed smut. Along with some friendship fluff with Julio!

Warnings: Smut

Julio sends you a text when he gets to your building. You peer down through the sheer curtains of your living room window. The shiny, black Cadillac SUV sticks out like a sore thumb on your street. Your neighbors probably think you’re in witness protection or something. If they only knew the truth…

You send him thirty heart emojis in response. It’s been a week since Julio started driving you and you think you’ve managed to successfully weasel into his good graces. The key is to annoy him with friendship. A talent of yours, luckily.

You press a kiss to Pig’s head on your way out the door. 

“Bye, my baby!” you whisper into her calico fur. She blinks up at you and stretches out on the couch in luxury as you leave. 

It’s flurrying outside and now that you don’t have to walk in it you can appreciate how pretty the city looks under a fresh blanket of snow. You hop up into the passenger seat--literally hopping, you’re short and this vehicle is giant--and take pleasure in the heated leather seats. 

“Hey,” Julio greets you, handing you a cup of coffee.

You stare at it like he’s just handed you the Olympic torch. Then he gestures to the box on the center console and you squawk in joy.

“Julio! You got me coffee?? And...and--” you open the box--“Croissants! You went to The Usual Place? For me? I knew you liked me. Now we’re friends forever!”

Julio rolls his eyes and groans dramatically but you spot the tiniest indentation of his lips, the smallest hint of a smile. 

“Just don’t eat all the chocolate ones,” he grumbles.

You smile and warm your hands on the coffee cup as he pulls away from the curb. You’re really getting spoiled having him drive you to and from work every day. How will you be able to deal when you have to get yourself to the store to buy groceries this weekend? Unthinkable! You laugh a little under your breath. How quickly the snobbery becomes you.

Julio watches you from the corner of his eye and smiles sadly. He went out of his way this morning to make you happy. He’s still pissed at Diego. Julio has watched his boss pull you into passing kisses and embraces all week long. He doesn’t think anything else has happened yet--God knows Diego’ll let him know when it does. But he sees how you can’t stop smiling after Diego kisses you. And--despite his best efforts to remain aloof--you’ve somehow managed to make Julio like you. So he was pissed when his boss asked him to pick up Francesca and two of her friends last and bring them to the penthouse. He loves Diego but the boy can be stupid. And unintentionally cruel. He just prays you don’t find out. And he prays Diego isn’t stupid enough to continue his exhibitionist shit with you now that everything is...changing.

“Julio?” 

You startle him from his musings and he arches an eyebrow at you comically, watching you stuff the last bite of croissant into your mouth.

You take a sip of coffee to wash it down and continue, “Has...has Diego ever had a--girlfriend?”

Oh. God. You are thirteen years old. You’re starring in your own dumbass rom com Thirty Going On Thirteen. You slap your hand over your eyes so you don’t have to watch Julio’s face as he answers.

Julio clears his throat but he doesn’t succeed in covering the short laugh at your antics, “Diego? I’ve known him almost ten years. I’ve never seen him with a...girlfriend.”

You let your hand fall away from your eyes and look over at Julio earnestly, “So...he’s never had anything...serious?”

Julio turns to look at you as he stops the car at a red light. The pity in his eyes forces you to look away.

His voice is soft and you want to punch him. “His life just makes it...hard. You shouldn’t…”

His voice trails off. He wants to warn you. To help you. He likes you, damn it. You’re a little weirdo and it’s hilarious that his boss is so enthralled with you, but he knows Diego is going to hurt you. Still...it’s Diego. His boy. And he can’t bring himself to say something that would feel like a betrayal. You decide to save him.

“I know, Julio,” you offer him a fake smile. “Thanks.”

You do know. Really…

***

...It’s so easy to forget when Diego’s lips are trailing fiery kisses over your mouth, your jaw, the crook of your neck. You forget all the reasons this isn’t a good idea--all of Julio’s unspoken warnings. Your mind is given over to your body’s needs, overcome with the pulsing secret inside you, the yearning to ride Diego’s love into a blinding light that will doubtlessly eclipse all others. 

The mop clatters to the floor beside you and you launch yourself into Diego’s arms, forcing him to support you or buckle beneath the sudden attack. He perches you up on the kitchen counter, never letting his lips leave yours. If you had room to think you might marvel at how quickly this man has conquered your shyness, your reserve, your logic. 

He breaks the kiss to whisper into your ear, “Would it kill you to wear something with a little more...access?”

He grinds his hips against you for emphasis. Even through the denim fabric of your jeans you can feel the sweet bulge of his erection and you mewl in wanton need, pressing your mouth into his stubbled cheek to muffle the mortifying sound. 

“Sorry,” you huff, your breath shaky and short, “mini dresses with holes cut out the sides aren’t really p-practical…”

The words stutter to a stop when Diego’s fingers go to the waist of your pants, popping the button open and lowering the zipper. He shoves his huge hand inside, cupping your sex in his warm palm. All thoughts of Francesca and her ridiculous outfits fly from your head. You grind against him with a needy wail, burying your face into his shoulder in embarrassment as pleas fall from your lips. 

“Oh...my god, Diego. Please, please, please…” 

Diego smirks and lets his fingers drag through your folds, circling your mound with a feather-light touch that forces you to thrust your hips to gain any friction. You groan in frustration against his shoulder. He uses his free hand to grasp your ponytail, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling it back until your upturned face is exposed to him. He eyes glint and he grins arrogantly as he increases the pressure against your clit, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers, all the while watching your face as you come undone. You’re sure you look pathetic--mouth hung open in lust, eyes dazed and half-lidded--you wish you could hide from his knowing gaze but when you try it, Diego tightens his grip on your hair and shakes his head slightly.

“I’m gonna watch you come on my fingers, guapa,” he hisses and laughs when the words evoke another lustful moan from you. “You like that, huh?”

He keeps his thumb rubbing relentlessly against your clit as his fingers dive down to plunge inside you, thrusting away into your wet cunt until you’re quivering around him and nearly sobbing with your coming orgasm.

You suddenly hear Julio clearing his throat from the elevator entrance and your body immediately tenses in alarm. Diego’s hand stills and you give the smallest cry of protest. Oh, god, you’re so close. But this--being watched--might be Diego’s thing... but it is definitely not yours. You lock eyes with him and you see the realization in his.

“Julio!” he growls, looking over his shoulder, “Turn around!”

Diego turns back to you. He releases his grip on your hair and lets you hide your face against his shoulder, cradling your head and ducking down to whisper, “Come for me, now.”

He starts up again, rubbing, circling and pulsing his hand against your wet sex. His movements are frenzied but expert and you’re crashing into your orgasm in seconds, swallowing your cry and clinging with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a baby koala. He rubs his hands over your back soothingly and ducks down to kiss you.

Julio pipes up apologetically, “Jefe...we have that thing…”

Diego lets out a ferocious growl and nips your lower lip sharply enough to make you gasp, “Ouch, Diego!”

His eyes go soft and molten and he kisses you gently to make up for it. He leans back and your arms fall away from his shoulders, you’re both out of breath and flushed. 

“Okay,” Diego grunts, running his hands through his hair. He’s already transforming before your eyes into the steely, dangerous version of himself that he wears out into the world. His eyes fall back to yours and soften a bit as he says, “We probably won’t be back until after you leave for the day...”

Quelle romantique. You’re sitting there, looking utterly debauched with your hair a mess and your pants undone, smelling of sex… Diego really has drawn you into something whether you like it or not. Julio’s unspoken warning lingers in your mind. There’s no room in Diego’s life for a serious relationship. If that’s true then you’ll just have to learn to accept it. But you don’t want what this is to be entirely on his terms--frenzied exchanges between murders and business meetings. You guess if you want something more you’re going to have to ask for it.

“Maybe--” your voice sounds high and squeaky in your ears-- “afterwards you can come by my place. I’ll order some Chinese food and…”

Diego looks up from tucking his gun into the waist of his pants. His face is a comical blank.

“Your place?” he repeats.

“Yeah…” you smile playfully, letting your hand brush up the length of his muscled arm and resting your palm against the back of his neck. You can see Julio’s guarded, worried expression from the corner of your eye but you ignore him. “My place.”

My rules.

Diego looks half intrigued, half reluctant. In the end all he’ll give you is, “Maybe. If we don’t get done too late.”

You try not to look too deflated, certain you’ll be spending another night alone. 

“Well...text me if you’re coming and I’ll order the food.”

Diego looks unnerved as he leaves the penthouse. Julio casts you an exasperated look and you shrug your shoulders with a grimace of apology. You don’t know what’s wrong with you either.

***

Walking home from the train station that afternoon you have to shake your head and laugh at yourself for reveling in the luxury of being driven around this morning. You’re still a poor girl even if your bank account is looking a little healthier lately and you may or may not have a millionaire drug lord coming over later for snuggles and...you know. A giggle erupts from your throat and an elderly lady passing by gives you a mean glance. Whatever...your life is so weird you might as well go with it.

As you’re skipping up the steps to your apartment something shiny a little down the street catches your eye. You glance over and do a double take. Dang--someone must’ve won the lottery. A gleaming, midnight blue muscle car is parked a few cars down from your building.

Well...good for them, you think and forget all about it.

A/N: Omg! Whose car is that?? It’s Tommy’s!

Tag List:

@lockedoutofmyotherblog @1zashreena1​ @lannister-slings-and-arrows @glowingpena​ @flower-petal-blooming​ @symbiont13​ @pullthedamnlever​ @sparrows-books​ @joalsglasses​ @ishqinbbc​ @pre-schoolervengance​ @skys-luce-stellare @popculturepriestess​ @nolongertwo​ @ughwhyareyoulikethist​ @squidlywiddly87​ @damndamer0n​ @xboxdudett​ @khicks3

[astrology-with-charu]

April to November 2020 -

The Summer of Stormy Eclipses & Jupiter Pluto Conjunction

==========================

“Chipping around, kick my brains around the floor, These are the days it never rains but it pours” ...

~ Under Pressure

It’s like David Bowie had seen the future we live today. It’s the title song of my Aries season as this Jupiter Pluto conjunction starts playing it’s tangible role meeting Sun and Mercury till 25/26 April in harsh aspect with Pluto standing still at its full potency about to go retrograde on 25th April.

Can you feel the pressure ? Everyone can ... from pressure come truth bombs & real growth, so let’s see what comes out of this for us. We will go into each sign as usual in part 2 of this post but let’s get clear on what it is cause there is an astrological aspect soup in the Sky right now.

I apologise this report was tough to write & I am sure it will be tough to hear, I rarely post these kind of reports. But looking at expectations for global events we would see how at an individual level we can contribute to growth that comes through this crisis and hopefully together we see deeper meaning of what’s about to come.

Jupiter meets Pluto every 12.5 years like any outer planets meeting in their path around Sun (synod) - this meeting defines global events but especially economic events.

Economic events have been historically clearly linked with this cycle, the conjunction being catalyst for growth that comes through popping of a bubble - truth coming to light, draining fake accomplishments & then becoming catalysts of growth away from previous cycle, away from our comfort zone. I had written about this in the 2020 introduction note along with the 12 Jan event on New Years - the note is pinned on the Facebook page for you to see sign specific focus of this aspect.

https://www.facebook.com/595133057621535/posts/770204786781027/?d=n

I had mentioned both US shifting it’s stance on severity of virus before the spread & further emphasise on economic crisis in my March note.

https://www.facebook.com/595133057621535/posts/818486065286232/

Do see April video if you haven’t on views of upcoming aspects on timelines of year ahead.

https://youtu.be/T8G-tgqcd4s

While these two planets will meet three times between April to November- the heliocentric meeting of 31 July will reflect a clear transition of global events. This would be critical moment in economy & a marker of financial markets bubble popping. First meeting which is in April usually stokes ambition and even greed - we see corporations & markets take a bullish outlook and stoke the bubble expanding it bigger. Seeds are sown of growth but with objective to gain power over resources by a few - rich become richer essentially & social disparity grows. At personal level despite the obvious signs, we try to gain growth & more control over the life that’s over - life as we know is shifted so we must look to reinvent our growth channels putting seeds of new way of doing things versus sticking to doing what we have been doing. The things that used to make us feel in power & control won’t appeal to us anymore - definition of growth will be reinvented in our individual capacities.

Central banks throwing money at the problem for example fuelling the junk bubble of large corporates & defunct industries is lower manifestation. We will see unfounded optimism on old crutches in markets possibly in May due to that. Instead of working on evolution to new way of growth.

This all goes out of the window in summer when it becomes starkly clear that it isn’t going to function for future - second meeting geocentrically is on 30th June, smack in middle of eclipse season and right after Venus Retrograde when Goddess of love transforms to Goddess of war. Mayans used to use this transition of Venus to time wars.

Truth has no way to hide. Mars would have just entered Aries then and clashed with the karmic nodes (26/27 June) springing us into action cause we have just seen the gap between what we truly want and what we are getting with Venus Retrograde - at individual level we would want to rage a war to change the course of life - it will be a summer of people totally shifting what they do & who they want to become and ofcourse of shifts in post quarantine relationships.

This second meeting usually comes with a crisis of faith, belief & question - is this worth it ? A stark U-Turn!

This period in June we would see loss of faith in leadership, it will be time of failure of leaders & resignations, people’s opinion of the heads of companies and administration will shift enormously as possibly how many have been benefiting from the crisis will be revealed & power hungry identities will be brought to light. This period can be marked with severe storms & accidents as well especially transport or airline related.

Travel should be avoided even if allowed in June, especially around 5 June eclipse.

Pluto rules oil & the few rich elite with power and money - the mafia elite or real. Jupiter rules airline, trade & education industry and we have already seen that bubble burst of artificial high prices in oil and industry coming to a crashing halt but we are trying to still live the same way by strengthening the oil cartel and bandaging airline industry and pretending that trade truce exists. We would see another round of crash in June July when the leaders will move back on their economic promises during Venus Retrograde in first ten days of June. We could see the oil cartel walk back on their promises at the time - as well as trade treaties being broken. Overall Venus Retrograde in Gemini - we would see people walking back on their contracts & promises. Don’t take promises made right now on the word - Venus is walking the flaky degrees it will walk back on between 13 May to 25 June - people will reconsider giving you what they promised in life & money. Bailouts of oil industry & airline wouldn’t work and possibly fire back.

As the Jupiter Pluto conjunction is happening in zodiac sign of Capricorn opposing Cancer zodiac (tropical), industries which could be impacted include - Real Estate, mortgage debt, stone work, ceramic, building / construction & supplies for it, large corporations, small businesses, women rights, women run businesses, children linked businesses, small farms, milk products, sheep, goats, water linked services & ports.

We would see CEOs stepping down, ruling class & high society disclosures, loss of religious leaders & bubble bursts in terms of truth and this will come with a slew of bankruptcy of industries with over leverage / debt in July. We would see truth of the multi trillions bail outs as well.

Capitalism requires failures - bailouts only delay them so what’s going on right now & will continue in May is just bandaging & greed - there is no getting away from this cycle of fluff moving out of financial markets with over exaggerated stock prices - unfortunately Cancer industries opposite to Capricorn could suffer but only briefly - Capricorn archetype represents big industries and Cancer small businesses, small Farmers, families, child education businesses which will suffer briefly in the process. But with north node solar eclipse in Cancer small businesses, women & children linked businesses, small farms have opportunity to reinvent themselves & save themselves whereas large corporations wouldn’t have any short term solutions to do so and would see a structural breakup or breakdown.

Also small businesses would receive some levels of additional support with north node solar eclipse in June as it gives a new start while south node Capricorn eclipse in July will ask big corporates & administration to release something as truths come to surface especially in United States as the 5 July lunar eclipse falls on Sun of United States in 8th house of crisis & transformation.

June July will be a very volatile time for US due to loss of diplomacy & international affairs crisis as well during Venus Retrograde going between natal Uranus & Mars in 7th house of partnerships diplomacy of US chart. This is triggered by the first eclipse of the season on 5 June which is a Lunar eclipse at 15° Sag square Mars in Pisces - t square of underhanded actions. International diplomatic affairs will go through a wringer in early June in wake of Venus retrograde and this very volatile eclipse of 5th June - which we would start feeling from end May.

This would be followed by 21 June solar eclipse at 0°21’ Cancer which is is conjunct Ascendant & Uranus of North Korea pointing to escalation in that direction. We would see a warning shot fired as early as 25/26 April when this eclipse of 21 June is getting activated by the nodes. But it would not be taken seriously.

Pluto is also going retrograde on 25/26 Apr within orb of natal Pluto in house of resources of United States - that’s why I believe both the diplomatic crisis & financial will strike together during summer with a trigger seen now in last week of April which would be ignored in noise of current moment. Bubbles in Pluto Jupiter burst not because of it being a surprise but more due to greed & complacency or overconfidence.

Pluto rules nuclear energy and July heliocentric conjunction in aftermath of unstable eclipses can be a dramatic. This along with 5 July eclipse were part of astrological configuration involved in 9/11. Though nothing is exactly same but this time between the eclipse of 21 June is happening within one degree of karmic nodes - this is instant event which isn’t long pronged but what would brew in this short period between 25 April to 21 June with diplomatic escalation in first ten days of June.

5 July lunar eclipse eclipse at 13°38’ Capricorn as I mentioned opposes Sun of United States square natal Saturn - this would be a tough eclipse on incumbent President and administration of US. Activation of this eclipse happened in September 2019 with the start of impeachment process in that month. This was the eclipse involved in events leading upto 9/11 as well. But this eclipse has repercussions way beyond United States as charts of major countries are engaged in this eclipse - UK, Russia, Germany for sure bringing pressure on Euro, Canada, Russia, Australia. I am not in politics so not sure what’s the common threat between these nations.

The eclipses don’t directly interact with China but they are very much leading from Jupiter Pluto conjunction in 12th house Jupiter of China’s chart. That’s where Covid began with Saturn Pluto conjunction Nov-Feb. Jupiter meeting this point will clearly bring out how China in a hidden fashion whether willingly or not are benefiting from this unfortunate crisis. This crisis will tilt the balance of power between the two Super powers. Pluto return of United States will threaten it’s position as largest economy in the world and these events have the power to shift that position.

I know I am taking this call when trillions are being thrown to ensure economic recovery & we will see some of it in May but as I have mentioned in my previous posts - Jupiter Pluto heliocentric(as seen from Sun) conjunction in July burst bubbles & Pluto is within orb of natal Pluto of United States in house of finances & value system.

This will hurt American economy very differently than China, where in US chart Saturn conjuncts natal south node all the way to 2021 in house of finances and in 2021 it will square Uranus in 6th - prolonged financial troubles and social divide. We will talk of Saturn square Uranus in 2021 separately though we are seeing preview of it right now as both planets are in loose square. All tangible strides that human civilisation has taken in name of advancement has engaged Saturn-Uranus cycle. Magna Carta - all men are created equal, American Revolution, World Wide Web, Euro, Napster as well as Putin & Harvey Weinstein were birthed under Saturn Uranus cycle. We will have a society revolution at our doors in 2021 and you would see a preview of it while Saturn is in Aquarius till 1 July as it’s in loose square to Uranus right now. Questioning boundaries, restrictions, people shaming each other for having different opinions, division like a chasm forming in a society but at same time ground breaking inventions & biggest tech breakthroughs which would be made available to large set of population.

That’s all for 2021 taking roots now.

In this unrest people who invent or espouse solutions to blend the past with future will gain - pairing the offbeat ahead of time ideas with new way of living new rules. Have an eye on your contribution to society in face of volatility as Saturn in Aquarius will take our vision through the wringer as a preview till July.

This cycle will possibly break up Euro which was birthed in the last square. We could see a civil war in America next year along with clear division in society, driver being the 14 December eclipse which is key for Trump and would be a catalyst. We could only do our part in these cycles - which is follow the principles of North Node in Gemini & South Node in Sagittarius as I mentioned in our videos - stick to concrete data & stay off extreme belief system, prejudice, stay in present moment, concrete practical commercial skills come into play & use versus generic ideologies. Upgrade your practical skills, Street smart skills, language skills, tech skills & your communication devices - stay with what you know in name of data without attachment to a specific belief system. Don’t listen to gurus, don’t listen to me, don’t listen to astrology if it feels like a cult or blind faith without use of concrete data & rules - stay with what you know in data & facts not perceived facts & belief system.

Unsubscribe to news or channels that pollute your thinking as I mentioned in the video - through north node in Gemini we manifest our destiny to existence through our mind & talk. Stand guard of your mind & learn practical stuff that can be implemented quickly and now. Stick to simple, local businesses using real life skills & talents versus generic global concepts - think of time following 9/11 and how globalisation went out of the window as did global travel.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLv3tUTLu8-MSgPM9mLoblQ7YErDkX6tYu

Coming back to current moment.

Pluto is lord of underworld and brings rebirth through disruption, storms, crisis & acts through our subconscious. Usually an external catalyst causes deep emotional reaction which drives us to bring a big shift in our life. Gut gnawing emotions become our source of growth when Jupiter & Pluto meet. It’s disruptive, it’s raw, it’s real - everything that’s safe is violated by this invasive planet (Pluto) touching our knowledge & faith (Jupiter) in a way freeing us from our own self even if that’s not perceived as such in that moment.

Pluto standing still brings the crisis & fear part of this cycle to obvious external display especially as its standing in connection with Mercury & Sun - fear of survival, death, change, transformation, of letting go yet subconscious drive to not wanting to accept limitations, control issues anymore. That’s the moment where we stand today to early May.

Old is being demolished but what “new” needs to be build isn’t clear yet - in this first contact of Jupiter Pluto cycle. Most cycles only have one contact - back in Dec 1994 we had one, then Dec 2007 we had one - but as unique 2020 is we got 8 months of this with exact contacts in April then in June & lastly in Nov. But as I mentioned July heliocentric meeting would normally bring a global economic event to pass & its usually burst of an economic bubble - fallen angels as it’s called in financial markets.

At personal level we would also feel clear markation of transition from one cycle to another & we would be bursting our own bubbles to see some truths which would ultimately become source of power & strength for us.

Pallas Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom is a key participant in this cycle. She is a Greek warrior Goddess who represents win of diplomacy & strategy over conflict and shows us a way. Greek myth goes as Gods decreed Sea God Poseidon and Wise Goddess Pallas to present a gift to the city to earn guardianship. Who will be the protector? Poseidon gifted Horse and Pallas Athena gifted Olive tree. Horse was majestic royal show piece but did nothing in name of usefulness for stony ground of the city. Olive tree on the other hand would benefit larger set of citizens and will flourish over time.

She sets a different example - she is a woman in the man’s world. She is a warrior without hostility & brutality - she is cerebral, the weaver of patterns, she knows how to link ideas together , see the pattern of current times and create a war strategy.

She points to claiming your power through wisdom in crisis & conflict - keeping your head, objectivity is strength here & it’s going to be tough to come by as we are all being put through the wringer. She is represented as a diamond on top of a cross - purity, clarity, impartial to emotional pull of either side cause there will be two warring sides - what did you expect we have six months of Mars in Aries and we are reaching Saturn Uranus square of 2021 - revolution is knocking on our doorsteps just look around at the divided society we are living in - key raw material for it. But I digress from the solution -

She sees patterns of human behaviour in current moment - reads the direction of wind - understands that world is shifting & instead of fighting it - creates new strategies for it. She is a brain child literally born out of the brain of Zeus / Jupiter - she is a brain wave, she is non judgmental intuition - do you see it ? Can we try to stay objective & see it ? A heavenly flash pointing to a talent, an opportunity, a pattern we have been missing before.

This brain wave in the current moment can help us plant a seed of growth provided we stay objective & see what the current moment is showing us - it’s popping a bubble - can we take it, can we see beyond the pain of it so see the writing on the wall of what’s ahead for us so we can take right strategic move.

It will get easier - once the Sun and Mercury are done squaring Pluto Jupiter till end Apr along with conjunction to Uranus. Mid May these will be trines - easier to execute but squares in April create stress enough for us to do something about it. It’s a gift of obsession that needs to be productively channeled. End goal is more prosperity & mastery but through dogged determination but more importantly through adaptability.

Growth comes from crisis that gets rid of fluff & pretence. But growth comes with the intention to have more power & control (Pluto). Sense of expansion is strongly attached to sense of power over others - we see that clearly in chart of people who have Jupiter Pluto conjunction provided they interact with their personal planet else a whole set of people born in those years would be billionaires and power hungry.

Month of July will bring us closer to truth through a crisis or realisation - it will come after Venus & Mercury retrogrades in June - is it worth it - quintessential question - we would try to see our life path through the veil of happiness and many of us will take a total u turn in what we do for our living, it will provoke a crisis of faith & belief globally in July in administration & big corps as it happens in Capricorn

Through this gut wrenching feeling will come the intensity to doggedly pursue expansion of power in specific area of our life though underlying theme is career, life path & abundance - having more power over own time & resources as well as happiness in having it. It’s restructuring our life for power, autonomy, seeking prosperity - it’s obsession of something we truly want.

Focus on a life change - a project of consequence to shift your status for long term, change the structure of your body, your knowledge your thinking, your inner wiring. It’s going to introduce you to you - it will make you own your own desires - channel the intensity you are feeling - the passion, the rage, the anger, the jealousy - all the things we are told we shouldn’t feel but we would feel - our so called shadow side - to get what your soul desires. Don’t waste it in trying to convince anyone else about the validity of your dream or about the value of you - it’s an obsession but it’s yours - you have the ability to propel it in right direction.

So now in part 2 let’s see where would you feel the intensity to make something big happen, where some truth bombs will drop in releasing you to expand authentically with more power organisationally / mentally / physically ! Remember it’s all happening in zodiac sign of Capricorn - so we go cautiously optimistic & with a plan.

It’s the same area by sign that I covered in the 2020 post on New Years by sign -

https://www.facebook.com/595133057621535/posts/770204786781027/?d=n

Disclaimer - Views presented here are not equivalent to investment advice for professional or non professional investors, they are purely based on historic synods of Saturn Pluto Jupiter

[candyshua]

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 10 (Finale)

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 2k

The world unfolded before your meek eyes. What was happening soon sunk in, and you immediately ripped your already bitten arm from "Joshua's" grasp. Looking down, you noticed a bite mark was there.

But then, like magic, it disappeared. It faded off of your skin gradually within the course of a few seconds, and you displayed no signs of turning any time soon. The moment your blood touched Joshua's tongue, a series of gargles elicited from his mouth and then he fell, clutching his chest. The Doctor watched intently, and Minghao merely rushed over to help you. "Are you okay?" He stuttered, and you just nodded emptily. You paid no mind to Minghao, your attention was on the dramatic scene happening in front of you.

The first thing you noticed about Joshua was his eyes. Soon, a familiar brown coated the white vastness, and pupils sprouted like a sudden unexpected rainstorm. Color returned to his face, and his flesh tightened and cleansed itself. The reverse transformation was surreal, along with extremely satisfying. His teeth whitened, his lips weren't a pale blue anymore; he was Joshua.

Clutching his chest with both of his hands, he fell to the ground and passed out in front of you. If somebody would've walked in at this very moment, they would've seen four humans.

Soon, your eyes widened and the tears on your cheeks dried. Your eyes wandered to the open cut on your arm, no signs of being bitten near. It was just a cut, like being sliced with a knife.

You were immune.

And you were the cure.

-

Time blended together in a haziness. Days felt like weeks, as your mind swam in and out on consciousness. The reality of the power you held kind of drove you mad temporarily, but any heated haziness can be replenished with a sweep of ice cold reality.

It started when Joshua would wake up in the middle of the night, in the hospital of Fort Lockwood of course, and then he'd puke up blood. You assumed it was just his body getting rid of the infection, but to be fair you had no idea how to react in this situation. Any medically experienced fellow would have been absolutely stumped. Slowly, Fort Lockwood was rebuilt and The Doctor was under constant surveillance. You helped revive the fort to what it used to be, along with taking care of the excess scientists.

You had felt heaps of guilt, knowing many people died due to their mere inconvenience. So many souls succumbed to the title of "Collateral Damage". They were executed because they were in the way - and that was that.

Truth be told, it had been four days since your attack on Fort Lockwood, but it felt like four months. Everything was so slow, worry tended to drag things out until the final show - where everything all comes crashing down. It was like you were in a play, and the end was near.

But one more plot twist was in store, just to mess with you.

Today, you would finally talk to The Doctor - face to face. Alone.

You walked into the dimly lit basement where Joshua was once constricted, that thought being enough to stimulate an anger deep inside you. You strode over to the beaten down man, who once reigned down upon his own miniature civilization. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Now, he was under the control of somebody he used to own, somebody he used to control.

You could do whatever you wanted to him. You could torture him like he did to you, you could let him starve to death, hell - you could untie him and let him walk out a free man. You weren't foolish enough to do so, but you knew you could have.

You were powerful. This time, you were mighty and great, you were no longer the girl subject to a glory-desiring genius or her amnesic self. You were the one with the good hand, it was like showing your royal flush to fellow poker players. The prize was so close, yet so far. But, was it as glorious and magnificent as it was prophesied to be? Was power what you wanted?

You knew you wanted to make him suffer, like he did to you.

Alas, you were a living example of it - you had won.

And, The Doctor had many answers you needed. But, you wanted his name to be forever tainted - not glorified as he had wanted. So, when you walked in that room, you had a vision in your mind.

"Hello." You hissed, the pure rage burning inside of you. The Doctor scoffed, his ragged, pale skin and scruffy grey beard only adding to his pathetic and defeated nature. His icy blue eyes were no longer sparking with the evil dreams that blew inside of him, instead they were hollowed out with the harsh winds of you. You played with the gun in your waistband, until you pulled it out and pointed it directly at his head.

"I'm making it quick. Have fun rotting in Hell, buddy." You grumbled.

And then you squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot rang through out the room, but you didn't care. The incessant ring in your ears was overpowered by your triumphant smile. Victory was yours, and it tasted oh so sweet.

-

A week later, Joshua's puking wouldn't stop. You had talked to Seungkwan about it, but his blood loss was extremely risky and potentially fatal. You didn't have the technology nor the staff to figure out what was happening.

Yet, you didn't really need that. Joshua called you to his room one day, and he knew exactly what was happening to him. The thick quiet atmosphere spoke louder than so many things you wanted to say, the air impregnated with a poignant awkwardness. You two had talked over the course of this week, but there was something gone. He wasn't the Josh he was before, but did you expect him to be?

"He did horrible things to me." Joshua mentioned oddly, the once quiet air now drowning in those sad words. You didn't need to be told, for you knew the horrible extensiveness of The Doctor's actions. You just nodded and let him talk.

"He told me why he did it...How he created the virus, how you were immune...And then he fucking injected me with it- and you saved me." He continued, and you just nodded solemnly. "I don't think your blood cured me though, Y/N. I think your blood reversed whatever happened...I think it's poisoning me."

The cruel reality of fate was quite entertaining at times. It was obvious -- if your blood was the cure, then why didn't The Doctor have you hooked up to a machine? Of course he had tested your blood before. And, of course, it didn't work.

What were you supposed to do? Pretend to be shocked at the inevitability? You and Seungkwan had tried everything in your power to end Joshua's sickness, but it was no use. You knew - you god damn knew - that Joshua was going to die. And it was your fault.

You wanted to cry, but it was like you were dried out from the insurmountable amount of tears you have cried this week. You just sighed, and then laughed.

You laughed hysterically, to the point where tears rolled down your face endlessly. Joshua didn't react, he knew it was an odd reaction of some sort. Soon, your laughs surprisingly turned into tears, and then choking sobs. "I'm so sorry!" You wailed, and Joshua just held you like he used to, before everything went to shit.

You weren't at home when you in Joshua's arms. Joshua wasn't himself anymore, and you both knew that. "It isn't your fault." Joshua soothed. Truth be told, it really wasn't. He would've continued to be a mindless infected buffoon if you hadn't tried to save him with your blood. You had given him a little more time.

"I fucking poisoned you..." You shakily sobbed, as he stroked your hair and bit his lip. He wanted to cry, but he had accepted his fate. The pain of knowing that Joshua couldn't hold on to his love for you is what troubled him the most. For your love was a flame, but eventually it dwindled and burned out.

Now, just ashes were remaining. And here in the pile of ashes, you cried for what could have been.

"You gave me more time, Y/N."

"I shouldn't have killed The Doctor. He could've fixed this-"

"You did what was understandable." Joshua interrupted, hushing you softly. Soon, a comfortable silence engulfed you two, and all that could be heard were your quiet sobs or Josh's soft, slowing breaths.

"I want you to be happy, Y/N." Joshua mumbled, and you knew what he was getting at. You knew he knew, but you refused to believe it. Denial was a strong force after all.

"What do you mean?" You questioned dumbly.

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't guilt yourself into being alone forever. I can rest happily knowing that you'll be happy." Joshua mumbled, and you just sucked in a sharp breath.

You wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he shouldn't give up because you loved him, but that wasn't true. You weren't at home with Joshua, there was no warmth. The love was gone, and it rekindled for the man who had been waiting for you. Joshua had still loved you, and he would die loving you. And in another life, he would be happy with you.

Just not in this one, for you would be happy with someone else. And Joshua? Well Joshua would be dead.

-

That night, Joshua had died beside you. And soon you learned that your blood wasn't the cure.

Not only that, you had discovered everybody from the ship you were previously on came down to Earth, and your father was no where found. And now, you lie in bed next to Minghao, a year later, still in Fort Lockwood. The world would continue on, and The Doctor's name would forever be cursed.

You and Minghao sat on top of the watch towers, looking over the forest that surrounded Fort Lockwood. It was around 2 AM, and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence. You wanted to say something, like that your period was late -- or that it had been a year since Joshua died.

But you just sat there, in silence. It was like Minghao knew the sound of the silence, he could listen to it.

During this past year, you and Seungkwan had worked endlessly with samples of your blood. No cure had surfaced.

Not only that, but no word from your father had been heard either. And as you stared into the dwindling dawn, you realized some questions would never be answered. Then, the sun rose and everything went on, like it always had.

And for a split second, you were again that girl who was confused with herself, who didn't know who she was or what she wanted, but then the feeling died. You lied in bed next to Minghao, resting after your night shift, and stared at his closed eyes.

A new passion erupted in you, a passion that was fueled from your love and experiences. It made you want to protect Minghao, it made you regret not being able to protect Joshua, and it made you you.

It was like a new reality was discovered -- a clearer more dense one. You weren't one of the good guys -- you had killed, stolen, and lied. You did all of those things because you thought you were right.

Yet looking back at it, you were so wrong. And an even harsher reality sunk in once you realized you could never make it right. You would forever be a killer, and a burglar, and a liar.

Your eyes sunk into Minghao's closed ones, and tears fell out of your eyes before you could stop them. Everyday, you would try to find a cure to help the fucked up world you lived in. You had no time to think about your happiness, because the world sat in your hands.

In another life you would be just another normal girl -- but not in this one.

THE END.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Legend

Summary: Legend says the river was cursed by a monster lurking under the surface. Though Taekwoon was no monster, and with you he could finally set the record straight.

Pairing: Jung Taekwoon x reader

Genre: dragon hybrid au / angst/ strangers to lovers / fluff

Warnings: talk of death and attempted drowning

A/N: My second Dark Depths story and probably my favourite of the two! Admittedly, I didn’t plan for a story like this. It was meant to be something far simpler and with another idol but when I started writing it, I knew it had to be this way and with Taekwoon too! I really hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2905

[Frightful October Masterlist]

“Molly, don’t go near the edge of that water.”

“Oh why not, it’s just a river. It even looks peaceful!”

“Don’t you know what happens in there?” Jack, another from the group of teens camping by the water asked everyone, leaning forward as if he had some dramatic story to share. Molly listened, stopping before she got any closer. “There’s a monster that lurks in the water, just below the surface. Legend says that no one comes out alive if they go in there.”

“Ey, Jack, you’re just stirring us up! There’s nothing scary about that water!”

“It looks so inviting!”

Jack shrugged, leaning back in his camp chair. “It’s true. Seven people have drowned in there, and none of their bodies were ever found. Go on Molly, in you go. You can be number eight.”

“Don’t be such a jerk!” Kasey announced, reaching out to comfort her friend who rushed away from the clear waters immediately.

But there was no one who would comfort Taekwoon from this story.

Looking on from under the water’s edge, he sighed, swimming away back down river to his home. Once inside the underwater cove, Taekwoon climbed upon the largest rock and began to brood.

He should have known better than to get his hopes up that someone would come into his river to play.

Years passed by and the cursed legend followed despite no new proof to back it up. The forest along the riverside was thinned out and large holiday homes lined the water’s edge instead. The township that Taekwoon’s water lorded over had tripled in size over the last four decades.

Still, no one braved his waters.

“What is so wrong with coming in here?!” he cried outlandishly to the moon, surfacing now that no one would see him. Although Taekwoon craved people to come and spend their days frolicking in the refreshing water instead of basking beside it, he didn’t wish to give further ammunition to the legend.

After all, there was some truth in it.

As a water dragon, he had been tasked with the protection of this river. It was his own for as long as he could remember and there was once a time in this world where the townspeople saw the water as good fortune. They would fish in there, swim and bathe and even use his water to feed the lands nearby. It was a prosperous area and Taekwoon had been the happiest he had ever been.

Until one summer when a child drowned in his waters.

It was by accident, Taekwoon had been up river, playing with the other children and not aware the current had swept the child away. When he heard the frantic screaming, he realised he had lost track of the child and swam as fast as he could to retrieve her. Unfortunately, he had been too late and decided the best he could do was carry the body back to her loved ones to be buried.

The image of their friendly dragon carrying the now limp child in his mouth had ruined his reputation forever.

Soon, no one entered his river. The fish abandoned him for better waters and the best he could do was wait for someone to reach out for him. To remember he existed.

No one had died in his waters since, yet the number seemed to change every few years with the legend.

Taekwoon was certain he would live the rest of his existence alone.

Until you turned up.

In the beginning, you would just sit and stare at the water, silent tears running down your cheeks, following the ones that had already fallen to your lap. Time was immeasurable for you it seemed, sitting there, without eating, moving, doing a thing. The sun would set and still you would stare at the body of water, sometimes blankly, others searching the surface for more than what was before you. Eventually, the moon would guide you away to your home somewhere out of his sight, Taekwoon following you along the riverside until he could no longer do so. And each morning, you would be back, repeating the same pattern as if it were all you could fathom doing with your life.

You intrigued Taekwoon.

And then, after a month of sitting and crying each day, you braved the water’s edge. No hesitant dips of your toes, no, you marched towards it with purpose, gasping with the coldness of the water. Still, it didn’t deter you, moving in faster, deeper, until you could no longer hold your head above the water.

It was then that Taekwoon realised you planned to taint his waters with the end of your life. You had closed your eyes when he had reached your side, his tail curling around you, making them open to see what was there. You came face to face with the dragon, your surprise making you inhale a mouthful of water.

And you spluttered when he pushed you up out of what was beginning to weigh you down. Lifting his head out of the water, Taekwoon growled at you. “What do you think you’re attempting?!”

“I must have died,” you breathed, still stunned by the beautiful creature before you. His silver fur and pearlescent horns seemed to impress you enough to smile. “That was swift.”

“You are alive.”

“Nonsense, you’re a dragon. Why, a water dragon! The legend is true; there is a monster in these waters!”

“The only monster in here is you,” he corrected gruffly, pushing you back towards the mouth of the river, water surging around you both with his haste. “And I want you out of here. You will not taint these waters and add to the misinformed legend. I am a peaceful water dragon and do not seek the company of someone such as yourself.”

With a gentle shove, you stumbled out of his waters, landing on your sodden bottom with a thud. Taekwoon watched you carefully, guarding his river in case you tried to enter once more.

Confused, you got up and ambled away, turning every so often to look into the dragon’s eyes before you could no longer see him.

Yet, you returned the next day.

And the next, until a week had gone by with you rushing into his waters and Taekwoon promptly dumping you back onto the earth. Each time, you were more desperate, cunning and quite frankly, you were rubbing him the wrong way.

“Why do you wish to die so earnestly?!” he cried after you whined at his less than gentle approach in placing you out of his waters. He lifted a clawed hand and waved it around in frustration. “If you must, do it elsewhere!”

“You wouldn’t understand the loss I’ve faced, dragon.”

“You know nothing of me. Until a week ago, I was a mere myth to you.”

You nodded, standing up and coming as close to the water as he would allow you. “I have no reason to live anymore.”

“Sure you do. You have youth, you have strength and you have forgiveness all on your side. Whatever troubles you face you will overcome.”

“My husband was killed in an accident. Our unborn child died in my stomach. Must I forgive the world for handing me out such wicked cards to make my way through? There’s nothing left on this Earth for me anymore. Why live when I could go and spend my afterlife with those who departed before me?”

Taekwoon’s expression softened, your story paining him. Why must someone so young be cursed with such a fate? He sympathised with you, hearing your lonely heart’s pleas match his own. He had no one.

Except you.

Perhaps your words had impacted his judgement too quickly because before he knew it, you were in the water again, swimming as fast as you could from him. The current had picked up with his sombre mood, swiftly carrying you down river and now you didn’t even need to attempt to use the water as a weapon, it was already taking you away, weighing you down. Taekwoon raced after you, collecting your now unconscious self and hastily taking you into his cove. There, he placed you down on the flat rock he slept upon, trying to bring you back to this life.

He knew in his dragon form, he would be too much, too rough with such a fragile life. It had been years since he had transformed to that of a human and yet he managed to do so, just in time to help clear the water from your lungs. You spluttered and then stabled, Taekwoon slumping against the rock breathing heavily.

Eyes now open, you stared curiously at Taekwoon, wondering who he was. Your gaze moved to his silver hair and then smiled lazily, before drifting back out of consciousness.

He kept you in the cove until you came to again. Still in his human form, you were startled by the man watching over you, groaning as you slowly sat up. Taekwoon edged closer. “Do you feel alright?”

“You’re the dragon? Surely, I’ve died now.”

He chuckled darkly. “You wish to see me as the first person after death? Wouldn’t you prefer your husband?”

“I’m still alive?” you wondered, shaking your head slowly. Then you frowned. “How are you so…so–?”

“Human?” he offered and you nodded. “I’m a water dragon. Whilst I cannot leave my waters for long, in my home, I can take on the form you see before you if I wish to. You’re the first person to see this side of me.”

He felt apprehensive after announcing that, swallowing roughly. He was connected to you now, more so since his water had carried you, had entered your body. Yet, you had very pressing desires to leave this world behind. Making a friend in you sounded too dangerous.

Getting up, you looked around his lair, smiling at some of the crystals embedded in the wall before turning back to him. “Your home is beautiful.”

“It’s fit for a dragon, nothing more.”

“How do you eat? Do you need to?” you asked, now curious. Taekwoon turned away, feeling bashful at such a question.

“Of course I eat, doesn’t everyone?”

“Can you eat human foods?”

He paused. “Well, I’ve never been offered any.”

“Not even once?”

Taekwoon thought over his years of existence, soon shaking his head. Even in the height of his happiness, everyone had just seen him as the water dragon. They would throw money into his waters, but gold was worthless to him.

“No,” he answered simply, smiling weakly at you. “Not even once.” 

He had helped you to the shore when you were strong enough to, and you had thanked him before heading on your way. It saddened Taekwoon to be without your company overnight, staring forlornly up at the moon. Morning came and you didn’t arrive.

As much as he had hoped for you to find a new resolve, it still hurt to have lost your company.

“Taekwoon!” a voice called around midday and he woke up from his slumber, dashing to the water’s edge eagerly. You grinned upon seeing him. “Here, I made you some food.”

“But I don’t know if I can eat any.”

“At least try, won’t you? I’ve not shared a meal with anyone in so long now.”

Your human-sized portions were quick to devour, but he had enjoyed the taste and soon it became a habit to share a meal each day with one another. You no longer tried to enter his waters any further than to knee-deep, soon frolicking in the waters with him on the sunnier days. Warmth returned to his waters thanks to you and time passed harmoniously. Some days you would only stop by for lunch, now having a part-time job at the town’s library. Others you would return at night, and talk with him until the sky was littered with stars.

“I’ve bought a home,” you announced a year into the friendship, smiling at Taekwoon fondly. “Would you like to see it?”

“Where is it?” he wondered, trailing along in the water as you picked up a brisk pace, marching along the river’s edge towards the area that was still heavily wooded. It was near his cove, and before you even reached it, he knew of what homestead you had purchased. It was the little cabin nestled on the curve of the river.

You were immensely proud of your new home. “Do you like it?”

“You’ll have further to go to get to work now,” he told you, trying to hide his excitement.

Reaching out to pet his fur on his long and graceful neck, you smiled. “I’m closer to you though.”

Taekwoon thoroughly enjoyed waking each morning to your call across the river. He would leap out from under the water and come to the very edge, your legs entering his waters eagerly, arms reaching out to curl around his neck. Your companionship meant everything to him.

“Do you ever wish you could be human more often?” you asked one evening after work and Taekwoon sighed, nodding. “Is it only in the cove that you can do it?”

Over the past year and a half, you had seen him as a human three further times. Each with your request when you had visited his home. He no longer felt vulnerable before you, in fact, he longed to embrace you in such a form.

He nodded once more. “I cannot leave the water and only in the cove can I be my other self.”

“Do you know why?” you asked, already trying to think of the answer.

“The crystals in the wall. They hold my powers.”

“If you broke a crystal off and tied it to your neck, could you leave the water?”

He shook his head. This was something he had tried when he wished to explain himself to the townspeople when the child died. Once earthside, he had almost stopped breathing, crawling until he met the water he had hastily left behind.

He dared not try since.

Still, you were determined to help him try to.

“What are you building?” he wondered, watching intently as you added an extension to the cabin.

Looking up from the dirt and wiping away your sweat, you grinned. “Your new entrance to my home.”

“My what?” he replied, gaze narrowing. “Y/N, I can’t go out there, my water only feeds the trees.”

“We’ll bring the water up here,” you announced, continuing with your plans.

Over several weeks, and with the help of a couple of friends in town, you managed to build on the extension. And now you had turned to Taekwoon. “Start using those claws of yours. The river changes every year. Build a fork in the pathway up to here.”

It didn’t take more than a week to sufficiently run water up to your home. The extension was far enough away from your main living quarters to not be worried about flooding, not that he would allow for such a thing. It was then when Taekwoon saw what you had created.

“Is this a pool for me?”

“I thought about it. If you need the use of your crystals, you could carry one up here and enter through this pool, you could relax up here as a human. And then, I’m hopeful that if we can remove more crystal and place them within my home that you could, well, live with me.”

He was so touched by your gesture, that he didn’t quite notice the flush of colour that invaded your cheeks, preoccupied with his own rush of emotions.

Tentatively, Taekwoon eased himself into the project. Carrying one of his finest crystals, he swam the length of the pathway to your home, going under the building and up into his pool. You waited there, surprised to see the man before you when he surfaced.

He didn’t have long in his human form most days. He would opt to watch over his waters during the day, and over time, and with the help of more crystals, he spent his nights in your bed.

Love had blossomed in a way he never thought would be possible.

“I’m glad you saved me all those years ago, Taekwoon,” you murmured, lips brushing over his collarbone as you moved to nestle into his neck. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t let you die; you were too beautiful to drown by my waters.”

“You didn’t want me to taint your waters,” you reminded teasingly and Taekwoon smiled, brushing the hair away from your face.

“My love, you tainted my heart long before you entered my river,” he announced, caressing your lips tenderly.

“Don’t you ever wonder which side of you that I love more?” you wondered and Taekwoon shook his head. You giggled. “What if I’m selfish and like this side to you more than the dragon spirit?”

“Dragon, man, you can’t separate me from either. But having the ability to spend my hours with you like this makes all the effort worth it.”

There was a saying about the river that ran alongside the township. Under the surface lurked a dragon who had the ability to shift into a man. His waters were tranquil and prosperous to all those who used them.

And he could often be seen walking through the forest hand in hand with the woman who changed his legend forever.

_________________

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5 Netflix Films for the Week, set before the 21st c.

How’s quarantine going? Yeah, same here. But it’s Monday after all, and you still have over 150 hours to kill if you’re dealing with this quarantine via a week-by-week approach. I can help you kill around 8%, 12 of those hours. Here are five must-watch films set before the twenty-first century. Don’t watch them all at once, that’s lame. 

No spoilers. 

5.  The Revenant (1823)

Main Cast:  Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy 

“Revenge is in the Creator's hands.”

Many of you will know of this film as the one which finally gave LDC his first Oscar, for Best Actor, at the 88th Academy Awards. Unfortunately, you would have stopped at that information and not bothered to watch the film. Released in 2015, the film is based on a novel of the same name. The definition of ‘Revenant’  is “a person who has returned, especially supposedly from the dead.” The story-line does not deviate from the title, as an American frontiersman named Hugh Glass is engulfed in a bear attack and is left for dead by his hunting crew. But he survives. And he’s fucking pissed. The novel is called The Revenant: A Novel of Revenge, and yeah, the film is pretty vengeful too. Interestingly, even though Hugh Glass was indeed a real person, and it is mostly believed that the film and novel are based on a story, there exist no writings from the man himself to verify the description of his story. His story was first published in a Philadelphia literary journal known as The Port Folio. Some say that it is no more than a legendary tale. Nevertheless, a brilliant film, don’t miss out. 

4. Before Sunrise (1994)

Only Cast (LOL): Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy

“If there's any kind of magic in this world…it must be in the attempt of understanding someone.”

If you’re a fan of love stories/romantic films, and if you haven’t come across the��Before Trilogy, I don’t know what kind of love stories you watch. Why is this film unique? In technical terms, it’s minimalist. In simple words, there’s no real plot. There’s no action or drama or horror. These two just walk and talk. Then they talk some more while walking, and when they’ve nothing to talk about, they just walk quietly. So why watch the film? For starters, it’s very peaceful and relaxing, unlike The Revenant, which is fucking intense. Secondly, the conversations in the film constitute some of the best dialogue-exchanges in the history of cinema. Their characters are very carefully crafted, as their varying perspectives on living and loving bring out some deep AF points throughout the film. It is a slow film no doubt, but I promise you that the blandness is worth it, and the ending is too nice. Don’t get bored, give the film some time and thank me later. 

3. Django Unchained (1858)

Main Cast: Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, and Leonardo DiCaprio

“Sold! To the man with the exceptional beard and his unexceptional nigga!”

Django Unchained is Tarantino’s highest-grossing film ever, for good reason. Although it has been criticized for historical inaccuracies, violence, and unprecedented high use of the N-word, Tarantino delivered one of the most dramatic and entertaining films from the era of plantation slavery. While the image above portrays Foxx, a slave, and LDC, a rich plantation owner, the highlight of the film was the German dentist-turned-bounty hunter, Dr. King Schultz, played by Christoph Waltz. Waltz’s performance is impeccable, only matched by his portrayal of Standartenführer Hans Landa in Inglourious Basterds (also directed by Tarantino). While the film starts off with Dr. Schultz hunting for his bounties, it eventually goes on to become a rescue mission, where Django and Schultz look for the former’s estranged wife, Broomhilda von Shaft. TW; extreme cursing and racism. But the film is a work of art. In fact, Jamie Foxx has revealed that LDC was pretty uncomfortable on the set, as his character had to use extremely racial slurs. But boy, he pulled off that role brilliantly.

2. Zodiac (1969 - 1980s)

Main Cast: Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, and Robert Downey Jr.

“I wanna report a double murder. If you go one mile east on Columbus Parkway, to a public park, you'll find kids in a brown car. They were shot with a 9mm Luger. I also killed those kids last year. Goodbye.” 

What happens when Iron Man, Hulk and Mysterio gang-up against one of America’s most notorious serial-killers? For now, I can only tell you that it was a pretty uneven contest. Based on a true story, this film depicts the useless San Francisco Police Department’s hunt for the Zodiac Killer, led by Dave Toschi (Ruffalo), and aided by political cartoonist Robert Graysmith (Gyllenhaal) and crime reporter Paul Avery (Downey). In case you’re wondering if they’re fictional characters, they’re not. They became pretty famous while the Zodiac Killer was running havoc, and have multiple articles and Wikipedia pages dedicated to all three of them. The Zodiac Killer remains unidentified by the way, and the cases are still officially open. Why watch the film then? Because the mysteriousness of it will blow your mind. Note that the film is directed by David Fincher, the same guy who directed Seven, Fight Club, Gone Girl and Mindhunter, among many other murder mysteries and thrillers. Don’t be surprised if you spend the rest of the day investigating the case yourself, happens to the best of us. 

Consolation Prize: The Irishman (1950s - 1970s)

Main (legendary) Cast: Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, and Joe Pesci

“I work hard for them when I ain't stealing from them.”

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking how can a film with a cast of three actors who redefined cinema in the late twentieth century earn only a consolation prize on this list? The truth is, that such crime/mafia/gangster films, no matter how legendary the cast is, only appeal to a particular audience. A lot of film buffs who truly appreciate cinema and actors are simply not enticed by this genre, which is okay. Nevertheless, this film, which spans over 200 minutes, is one of Martin Scorsese’s best works, along with other mob movies like Goodfellas and The Departed. Based on a true story, it follows the adventures of ordinary truck driver-turned-assassin Frank ‘Irishman’ Sheeran (De Niro), who gets mixed up in some extraordinary business with mobster Russell Bufalino (Pesci), his Pennsylvania crime family and American labor union leader Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino). The punchline of the film is “I heard you paint houses” - a mob code implying: I heard you murder people for money, the paint being the symbol of the blood that splatters when bullets are riddled into the target. Typical Scorsese, mesmerizing direction. The punchline is also the name of the novel the film is based on, in case you love reading about organized crime. 

1. Dallas Buyers Club (1985)

Main Cast: Matthew McConaughey, Jennifer Garner and Jared Leto

“Sometimes, I feel I'm fighting for a life that I just ain't got the time to live. I want it all to mean something.”

On the day of the 86th Academy Awards, Facebook and Twitter erupted in outrage. LDC had not been awarded the Oscar for Best Actor for his portrayal of  Jordan Belfort in The Wolf of Wall Street, also known as The Film You Must Never Watch With Your Family. I merely asked every hot-tempered schmucks who posted that LDC had been snubbed, “Have you watched Dallas Buyers Club?” Either the answer was no, or the answer never came. The point being, Dallas Buyers Club is one of the best films ever made. Based on the true story of Ron Woodroof, a once homophobic, junkie cowboy diagnosed with AIDS, co-starring Jared Leto (who won best supporting actor) as Rayon, a fictional trans-woman with HIV, this film tells us an extraordinary tale of friendship, hope and empathy. When Ron discovers that the Federal Drug Administration has been systematically banning cheap drugs that can improve the condition of existing HIV-AIDS patients, he opens a ‘buyers club’, that enabled sick people to make drug purchases at lower prices. Things get more interesting with the role of  Dr. Eve Saks, an AIDS doctor, who recognizes the villainous role of the state, but wants to remain within the ambit of the law. Ron’s character development might be the highlight of the film, as he transforms from a selfish, homophobic asshole to a dying man waging war against the American government, fighting for the healthcare of the underprivileged. Very few equally magnificent films have come out post Dallas Buyers Club. Don’t miss out. 

So that’s it folks. Make good use of your quarantine by immersing yourself in good quality cinema. I’ll come up with some more suggestions on films and TV shows soon enough. Till then, Netflix and Don’t Chill. 

[madpanda75]

“You look so comfy, and cuddle-able.” Maybe for Rafael, inspired by Raùl in all those cozy sweaters we see him in? 😍 Thank you!

 Thanks for your request! OMG, Raúl in those cozy sweaters…..ugh, I turn into a puddle every time I see a pic (so fluffy, so cuddly) 🤤 Wooo anyways, changing the subject, I hope you like this story, I had fun writing it (I’ve always wanted someone to kiss me in airport, just like in the movies 😉😘)!

“Cuddles and Confessions”

The ADA sat in his office, jotting down notes when he spied his cell phone out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and stared at the offending device, knowing he should be preparing for his opening statements rather than checking his phone for the tenth time that hour. But temptation got the better of him. He checked the screen, only to be disappointed when there were no new messages from you.

Rafael was your older brother’s roommate at Harvard, the two becoming good friends all throughout their college years. You grew up with Rafael. He was the one who inspired you to pursue a law degree, even helping with your application to Stanford Law School. After passing the bar, you wanted to move back to the East Coast and since you had several job interviews lined up in one week, Rafael agreed to let you stay with him while you tried to jumpstart your career.

Today was a big day. You had a job interview for a prestigious civil rights law firm. Rafael knew how important this interview was. Ever since you graduated law school, you had wanted to work there. The interview should have been over by now and the ADA was dying to know how it went. You both had spent hours prepping the night before.

He was just about to call you when as fate would have it, there was a knock on the door. You poked your head into his office. “Hey, Raf. Is this a bad time?” You tentatively asked.

“Not at all,” Rafael practically leapt from his chair, leading you over to the couch. He sat next to you, studying your face, trying to gauge the outcome of the interview by your expression. “So, how did it go?”

You took a deep breath and looked down at your hands before meeting his gaze. A smile slowly spread over your face. “I got the job!” You exclaimed.

“Congratulations! I knew you could do it!” He pulled you into a tight hug. “When do you start?”

“Next month. I have thirty days to sublet my apartment back in California and find a new place here.”

Rafael shook his head and smiled. It was hard to believe that only a few years ago he was watching you receive your diploma, now here you were about to work at one of the top firms in Manhattan. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You deserve this.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you so much for everything,” you softly said, placing your hand on top of his.

A spark shot through him at the contact. He turned his palm up, interlocking your fingers with his. “You’re welcome.”

You bit your lip and blushed, looking down at your joined hands when your phone buzzed. All too soon, you let go to check your texts. “That’s my friend, Mel. She wants to go out and celebrate tonight. You should come with us!”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure you don’t want some old man tagging along with you,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, “Ok, first of all, you are NOT an old man. You’re only a few years older than me. Second of all, I’ve seen how you move those hips, Raf. You could dance circles around me and my friends.” You nudged his shoulder.

He snorted a laugh, his cheeks turning pink, “Well, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” you said with a wink.

After a long day, Rafael opened the door to his apartment carrying a bouquet of white roses, grinning when he heard you singing from the guest room. He shrugged off his coat, moving to the kitchen and setting the flowers on the counter. “Y/N, I’m home.”

“I’ll be right there,” you shouted. Already running late, you scurried out of your room, struggling to zip up your dress only to stop when you noticed Rafael sifting through takeout menus. Biting your lip, you tried not to stare too hard at his backside. “Rafi?”

Rafael turned around at the sound of your voice, his jaw practically dropping to the floor when he saw you in a short skimpy emerald green dress that left little to the imagination.

Could you help me, please?” You asked, motioning towards the zipper on your dress.

For the first time in a long time, Rafael was at a loss for words, unable to form a coherent thought let alone a sentence at the sight of you. It’s not like he had never seen a girl in a dress before, in fact he’d seen girls wear even more revealing dresses. No, it wasn’t the dress. It was you in the dress. This young girl who overnight had transformed into a beautiful woman. You disarmed him completely.

“Ummmm sure,” he managed to squeak out, brushing your hair off your back as he zipped you up. A shiver ran down your spine feeling Rafael’s fingertips on your skin.

You turned around with pink tinged cheeks, “Thanks.”

He nodded his head, rocking back on his heels before remembering the bouquet on the counter. “Here, these are for you,” he said, handing you the white flowers.

“Raf, they’re beautiful. Thank you!” You closed your eyes and inhaled the roses’ sweet scent. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You just landed your dream job. Of course I had to,” he replied.

While Rafael placed the flowers in a vase with some water, you finished getting ready. “Alright, I’m off. You sure you don’t want to come along?” You asked, swiping some lipstick on and grabbing your heels.

“Thanks, but I have some work to catch up on. Go out and enjoy your freedom cause pretty soon you’ll be like me, working on a Friday night.”

You huffed out a laugh, “Ok, text me if you change your mind.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in concern when he noticed you without a jacket. “It’s pretty cold out there. You sure you don’t want to take your coat or something.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m going straight from an Uber into a crowded bar. Besides I don’t want to lug my jacket around. Don’t wait up and try not to work too hard. It is Friday night.” You waved him off, shutting the door and leaving the ADA alone in the foyer.

After you left, Rafael changed into a sweater and jeans. Just because he was working on a Friday night, didn’t mean he couldn’t be comfortable. As the hours wore on, work evaded him. Pushing a half empty carton of Chinese food off to the side, he sighed, running a hand over his face. How was he supposed to concentrate now with thoughts of you running through his brain?

Although he had known you for years, something changed this week. Rafael was beginning to see you in a different light. It was as if someone adjusted the antenna on top of a television, making the picture clearer. You both had grown close over such a short amount of time.

Rafael knew this was short lived. You would be going back to California tomorrow and he felt his heart sink at the thought. With you in his life, he didn’t feel so lonely. He would miss coming home to you, hearing about your day, having someone to share the evening with and help him forget the darkness he encountered at his job. You had maneuvered your way into his heart and Rafael never wanted to let you go.

Unable to focus, Rafael grabbed his coat and shoes, deciding a walk might help clear his head. Stepping outside, he pulled his coat tighter around him, the cold air stinging his cheeks. He had only walked down the block when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Seeing your name flash on the screen, Rafael didn’t hesitate to answer, “Y/N?”

“Raaaaaaf?” You whined, your voice sounding strange.

“Y/N, are you ok?”

“No,” you sniffled. “Mel took off with a guy she met at the club so I grabbed an Uber but the driver was giving me the creeps so I got out and now I’m lost wandering around and freezing. I’ll never get home. I’ll be like that little match girl, dead in an alley, frozen to death!” You sobbed, having a bit of a flair for the dramatics when you had been drinking.

“Ok, don’t panic. I’ll come pick you up. What’s around you? Can you tell me the cross streets.”

You drunkenly described where you were while he quickly hopped into a cab. When Rafael reached your location, his eyes scanned the street in search of you, finally spying you in the window of a bar, laughing with the bartender and downing shot of tequila.

“If you wouldn’t mind waiting right here. I’ll be right back,” he instructed the driver. Walking into the bar, he made a beeline towards you.

“Rafi! You look so comfy and cuddle-able!” You exclaimed, practically tripping over your own legs as you wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face against his soft sweater. “Mmm, you’re so warm.”

“God, you’re freezing,” he said pulling his coat around your body.

You wiggled out of his grasp, moving back to the bar so you could finish your drink. “Hey there, mister! Alcohol keeps your body warm. Just look at the baker from the Titanic. He survived in frigid cold water for over two hours all by drinking,” you said in a slurring voice.

“Actually, large quantities of alcohol increase the risk of hypothermia,” Rafael replied.

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever, Counselor Smarty Pants.”

“Come on, cariño. Let’s go home,” he gently coaxed you off the bar stool, leading you to the exit.

“Cariño? Home?” You stopped in your tracks, looking Rafael over from head to toe. “You know what I think. I think you like me,” you smirked and sauntered up to him. “Yep, I even think you like like me. In fact, I think you loooooove me,” you walked your fingers up his chest before booping his nose with your index finger.

Rafael blushed, his breath caught in his throat, “Y/N, let’s go. Please,” he pleaded.

“No!” You shook out his grasp. “I’m not moving from this spot until you tell me the truth. Tell me how you feel Rafael. Tell me you love me.” Your eyes bore into his, staring right into his tortured soul.

When it came to you, Rafael was completely transparent. You could see clear through him down to his spine because he allowed you to. You were the one he felt safe with, even though his instincts right now were screaming at him to shield himself, Rafael knew he could no longer hide from his feelings. “I love you,” he softly said, running a hand through your hair.

You leaned into his touch, moving even closer to him, “I love you too.” The world seemed to fade away, leaving only you and him. Your lips practically brushing up against his, your warm breath against his skin. For as cold as you had been, you felt hot, overheated almost, the room beginning to spin. As soon as you were about to kiss him, you stumbled back, feeling dizzy.

“Woah! Easy now!” Rafael managed to catch you, scooping you up in his arms as he walked out to the taxi.

You laid your head on his shoulder the entire ride back home, snuggling against him, mumbling incoherently, “You smell so good, like coffee….and the woods….and leather bound law books.” Listening to your olfactory observations, the taxi driver caught Rafael’s eye in the rear view mirror. The ADA only shrugging in response.

Rafael had never been so relieved to see his apartment building when the taxi finally pulled up. Hoisting you over his shoulder, he walked through the lobby towards the elevator, ignoring the shocked disapproving faces of his neighbors.

He jumped in surprise, nearly dropping you when he felt you grab his ass. “Sorry,” you giggled. “It’s such a cute butt. I couldn’t resist.” You poked each of his cheeks.

He snorted a laugh, “Try to restrain yourself back there.”

Finally, you both made it to his apartment. “Gracias a Dios. We’re home. We did it,” he sighed, opening the door, still carrying you over his shoulder.

“Yay, teamwork!” You mumbled, slapping his ass again. “Rafi….all the blood is rushing to my head.”

“We’re almost there,” He cooed, heading into the guest bedroom. Once he laid you on the bed, you melted into the mattress. Rafael took off your shoes, his eyes wandering up your long legs. Your dress had ridden up, revealing your lace panties. He cleared his throat, blushing a bit as he tried to tug your dress back down before covering you with a blanket. Looking down at you, his lips tugged into a smile, even drunk you were still absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous.

Just as he was about to leave, your hand found his, pulling him back. “Will you stay with me, please?” You whimpered.

“Sure,” he said, kicking off his shoes and getting into bed. You cuddled up to him, resting your head on his chest, clutching a part of his sweater in your fist. He reached to turn off the lamp light, winding his arm around you and gently kissing the top of your head. “Good night, Rafi. I love you,” you murmured.

“Good night. Te amo tambien,” he softly whispered, watching you sleep for a while before his eyelids began to grow heavy.

The next morning you woke with a groan, your head about to split in two with what you believed to be the world’s worst hangover headache. With your eyes still partially closed, you blindly shuffled towards the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar and laying your head down with a thud.

Rafael was already in the kitchen making coffee, “Good morning!”

You groaned in response, “Not so loud.”

He chuckled, placing a bottle of water and two asprin in front of you.

“Coffee,” you whimpered pathetically, reaching for a mug.

“First, water, then coffee,” he instructed.

You guzzled down the water, the bottle crinkling and folding in on itself as you emptied it. Once you finished, he handed you a cup of coffee and a plate full of pancakes and bacon before coming to join you with his own stack of flapjacks.

The two of you ate in total silence, the sound of forks clinking against the plate being the only noise in the room. Rafael sipped his coffee, studying your profile, wondering if you even remembered what had happened last night.

“It’s rude to stare ya’ know,” you announced. “Especially when someone is hungover with a mouth full of pancakes.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking that since your flight isn’t until tonight. Maybe you would want to take it easy today. Relax? Watch a movie?” Rafael internally cringed at his pathetic excuse for staring. Besides watching a movie was one of the last things he wanted to do with you, but he wasn’t about to let you know that.

“A movie?” You gifted him a deadpan stare. After everything that was said and done the night before, he wanted to watch a movie. Maybe you were wrong, maybe he didn’t reciprocate your feelings for him. You swallowed down the sting, deciding it was better to be friends and forget last night ever happened. “Can we watch Sixteen Candles?”

“Only if we get to watch Ghostbusters afterwards.”

“You got yourself a deal, Mr. Barba.”

While watching the movie, you sat a respectable distance away from Rafael on the couch, the two of you stealing glances at each other as Samantha Baker swooned over Jake Ryan. By the time the Marshmallow Man exploded and the Ghostbusters banished Gozer back to his dimension, it was time for you to pack up your things and catch your flight.

At his insistence, Rafael drove with you to the airport. You looked out the window of the taxi, drinking in the city that you would soon call home when you looked down and saw your hand only centimeters away from Rafael.

You flexed your fingers, silently willing yourself not to reach out and touch him. Those thoughts abruptly ended as soon as the car pulled up to the terminal. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” He asked, handing you your suitcase.

“No, I’m ok. I’ve taken up enough of your time already. You probably have way more important things to do.”

He shook his head, “Nothing as important as you.”

You blushed and looked down at your feet before wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Rafael closed his eyes, melting into your touch as he inhaled the scent of your strawberry shampoo. The hug seemed to last forever, neither of you wanting to be the first one to let go.

“Thank you for everything,” you whispered, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, pulling away from him.

The ADA said nothing, only nodding his head, a lump formed in his throat preventing him from speaking. “Stay with me. Don’t leave me. I love you,” he thought to himself.

With a final wave, you were gone. Rafael stood there watching you walk into the airport when he realized that sometimes you have to take chances. It was better to take risks than live with regret. It was now or never. “Wait here. I’ll be right back,” he told the taxi driver.

He ran into the terminal, hoping you hadn’t gone too far. “Y/N!” He shouted when he saw you walking towards the security checkpoint.

You stopped and looked at him in total confusion as he strode up to you, “Raf? What are you–”

Rafael cut you off with a kiss, his hands cupping your face as his lips crashed into yours, kissing you with such intensity it made you weak in the knees. You froze for a second in surprise before giving yourself up to that passion fueled moment. Afraid your legs would give out, you clung to him, allowing his tongue to part your lips, your mouth moving a little more insistently over his. An electric jolt ran through your body as fireworks exploded and popped all around you.

Some of the other travelers cheered as they walked passed. “Holy shit! That’s what I call a kiss!” An older woman exclaimed before turning to the man next to her, slapping him on the shoulder. “How come you never kiss me like that anymore?”

Reluctantly, he pulled away, panting. “Wow,” you whispered breathlessly, your face flushed as you tried to collect yourself.

“Sorry, it took me so long to do that,” he softly said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Better late than never,” you leaned your forehead against his.

“How about when you move here next month, I take you out on a date?” He held you close, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“I’d like that,” you said, kissing him again. “I’ll see you in 30 days.” You walked away only to have him tug you back for yet another soft sweet kiss before finally letting you go.

“30 days,” he sighed, watching you go through security, only walking away when he could no longer see you. Rafael left the airport floating on a cloud, a smile firmly planted on his face. Thirty days never seemed so far away.

@obfuscateyummy @southern-magnolia @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sweetsummertime99 @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @burningsorr0ws @katmstanton @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @eclecticminded @delia26 @glimmerglittergirl @sweetcannolicarisi @babypink224221 @amirightcounsellor @livxrafa

[stoopsbookstore]

Thirteen Princes Masterlist

Inspired by a post @dahyunmingyu made about Seungkwan being Mrs. Potts and Chan being Chip

Hello, reader. I'm the narrator, you may call me The Bookkeeper. I'm here to tell you the stories of 13 boys, all of whom I witnessed firsthand. I'll be by your side as you read about the story of each prince, no matter how twistedly heartbreaking, how teeth-melting fluffy, how virigious smutty or terrifying horrific it gets. I remember each story like it was yesterday. The thirteen princes of Pledis Kingdom are famous for being a tightly knit group, they're rarely seen in a group less than 4. Each prince has his own cut of the land and their families are known throughout the island for their synchronization when it comes to wars and battles. Each prince has his own story to tell, maybe a story never told, one you saw in a theatre or one you used to be read at night. You may be used to seeing the colorful images, hearing the vivid songs, but some may be more, how you say, dramatic or violent. The thirteen princes are eager to tell their stories and here's where you begin.

Fluff - 🧁

Angst - 🙁

Smut - 😳

Horror - 👻

Seungcheol (Robin Hood)

The eldest prince has a secret, he's the vigilante the resident head of knights is after. He's been taking a small portion of the goods and money that had been seized by the knights and giving it back to the poor, the children and the ones who struggle from time to time. To hoard this gold and not help the village pissed him off. When he starts to fall for a maiden, he's torn between his feelings and her safety. A smut/angst loosely based on Robin Hood.

Seungcheol is the first in line for the throne, a good prince. Maybe he should be careful of his little secret.

Jeonghan (Beauty and the Beast)

A horrible curse was placed on the prince of the Yoon kingdom. One cold night, a witch attempts to tricks the young Jeonghan to letting her in the castle. He rejected as he didn't know who was standing in front of him. Feeling hurt and betrayed by the so-called nice, charming prince Yoon, she cursed him to look like a unlovable beast until someone loved him for true or when the last petal fell of a rose colored blue. No one dared to go near the castle until the local inventor is kidnapped and the town blames the beast who may not even exist. The daughter of the inventor decides to investigate herself and meets the beast and his way of living. A horror story based on Beauty and the Beast.

Joshua (Snow White)

A hunter who was sent on a mission by the queen to kill a girl, the queen's envy of her beauty the cause of the heinous crime. But when he came back empty-handed, the queen sent her son, Joshua, to kill the girl, to toughen him up, teach him the world is cruel and unfair. When the two meet, it was love at first sight and Joshua helps the girl hide until his mother catches wind of the girl being seen on the outskirts of town. Clearly the rule "don't take candy from a stranger" doesn't exist in the Pledis kingdom as the girl is soon kidnapped after eating a poisoned apple. An angst/smut based on Snow White.

Jun (Sleeping Beauty)

The section of Pledis ran by the Wen family falls under a deep sleep when the curse placed upon Prince Jun when he was born finally comes true. A mysterious girl sent by her mother bearing gifts soon finds the ghost town, vacant of life, any bodies to be seen were in a death-like sleep. Her heart too fragile to experience the destruction finds the prince, a familiar face she thinks, and tries to awaken him. A horror/smut story based on Sleeping Beauty.

Hoshi (Cinderella)

The dance was supposed to bring everyone together, not tear them apart. A shoe found by the prince, a show belonging to the girl he danced with, the girl who would become his princess and eventually his queen. Families tore apart because their daughter's foot wouldn't fit, daughters disowned because they're not the next queen, girls cutting off their heels and toes to impress Prince Hoshi. All the girls in the kingdom are accounted for, except one who is known by her family as Cinderella, but she hasn't been seen in years. Hoshi feels this is his future wife and he's determined to find where she is and what her family is covering. A horror story based on Cinderella.

Wonwoo (Tangled)

Prince Wonwoo has been meeting a girl in a tower for years, ever since they were children. He never knew her name for she doesn't have one, at least she think she doesn't have one. One day, while they were playing, her caretaker called out for her, Wonwoo hiding under the bed, seeing the girl with magical hair helping the woman through the window. The woman started to beat the little girl, Wonwoo struggling to keep his anger back. As the woman left, he came out, telling his friend that he will rescue her one day and they'll go to the Lantern festival held by the Pledis kingdom every year. An angst based on Tangled/Rapunzel.

Woozi (Atlantis)

Only rivaled by Wonwoo as the kingdom's booknerd, the determined prince is ready to find a hidden city, long believed to be lost. He reads stories of Queen Kahi and the Pristin Princesses, fascinated by how an entire city can just vanish. His friends think he is foolish, except for the aforementioned Wonwoo, but he is convinced that there is a surviving kingdom under their very own. His expedition drags him and his 12 friends into a wild adventure. A mashup of all 4 genres, most likely a multi-part.

You know this story is a mash-up of everything, it may not be contained to just one story, there's simply too much to his adventures and misdeeds.

DK (The Little Mermaid)

He would always sing to anyone who would listen, children, elderly, even animals that passed by. His favorite place was the pier behind the kingdom, hidden in the forest. He liked to think the fish below the surface could hear and enjoy his music, and it was true. A mermaid started to leave him little gifts and notes as trinkets from under the sea. He has only caught a glimpse of her face, but he remembers the tail vividly, rose quartz, a pale pink representing love and healing and a light blue the kingdom dubbed Serenity. Unfortunately, he also attracted the worst type of sea creature. The sea witch, Ursula, wanted his voice as her own, so she tricked into being her own personal singer in hopes that he will find the girl. With time running low, what can Dokyeom do with no voice? A horror/fluff story based on the Little Mermaid.

Mingyu (Aladdin)

Growing up, Mingyu had to do some things he wasn't proud of. Steal a loaf of bread here, stab this man over there, yeet that guard to the kingdom over, you know... normal boy stuff. When Mingyu finds a lamp and is given a chance to impress the one girl he has had his eyes on for years, he discovers that maybe it's not your past or how you present yourself, but maybe it's what's on the inside that counts. A fluff/angst story loosely based on Aladdin

Minghao (Mulan)

When his father discovers that Minghao refuses to teach a local townsgirl because his admittedly sexist views, he tells the young prince the story of two lovers who were thrown for a whirlwind when a sudden war threatens to destroy the kingdom. An angst/fluff story based on Mulan

Seungkwan (Emperor's New Groove)

Cocky, brash, aggressive, flamboyant, loud, all these words can describe Boo Seungkwan. He has that type of personality that can make you love him or will make you want to rip his throat out. The villagers get fed up, and when one deranged kingdom workers attempts to poison him and he goes missing, no one seems to notice. It's not until a local girl, Y/N, finds a lost llama in the wild that Seungkwan realizes that maybe he is a bit too much. An angst based on Emperor's New Groove.

Vernon (The Princess and The Frog)

You would think the first time Vernon almost got cursed, he would stop asking strange people for his fortune, but no. The 2nd youngest prince asked for his future from a voodoo doctor and was transformed into a frog, the curse only to be broken by a kiss from a princess. When he convinced a girl who he thought was a princess to kiss him, the two are dragged into a trip where they must figure out how to get cured and avoid being found by the voodoo doctor. An angst/fluff based on The Princess and The Frog.

Dino (Frozen)

The youngest prince had a brother, it's rumored that the brother is dead or a traitor to the Pledis Kingdom. The truth is much more heartbreaking. The boy was locked up after accidentally injuring Dino with his ice powers. Dino was confused as to why his brother was locked up, so he constantly visited the door his brother was held captive behind, trying to talk to him, day after day, month after month, year after year. When the town is submerged into an endless winter, Dino has to figure out the cause with the help of a strange townsgirl before his brother is killed or the town is destroyed. A horror/angst based on Frozen.

[sesamestreep]

with a little love, a little love, a little love

(read on Ao3)

SUMMARY: Cassian can honestly say that he hadn't imagined how he and Jyn might get engaged someday. He just didn't think they were there yet. But even if he'd imagined the weirdest scenario possible, he feels pretty confident in saying he never could have predicted the proposal would involve the phrase "insider trading". [AKA Jyn and Cassian and a little bit of season 3 of The Newsroom]

A/N: Another day, another installment of The Newsroom AU. But seriously, I think the series is done after this, for sure. I actually wrote this for my dear @taxicabsandcupcakes​ for her birthday celebration! She’s the best and she’s my favorite person to talk about writing (and basically anything else) with. Happy birthday, my dear!

Jyn has been perusing her menu in almost complete silence—with the exception of the sound her butter knife is making as she taps it against an empty plate—for going on five minutes when Cassian finally snaps.

“Jyn,” he says, suddenly enough that she actually startles, “what is the matter?”

“Nothing,” she replies, too casually. “Have you decided what you want yet?”

“I’m still thinking it over. Am I holding you up?”

“Take your time,” she says, waving a hand at him but not quite making eye contact.

Cassian sighs and reaches across the table for her hand, which just makes her look at him in alarm, but at least she’s looking at him. “I thought we agreed not to let this ruin our entire day,” he says, quietly.

“It’s just—” Jyn starts to say, before cutting herself off with a frustrated noise. “The last time we had an emergency staff meeting was when we had to retract Scarif.”

“I know. But the bright side is, there’s no way this meeting can be worse than that one.”

“Are you sure about that?” She asks, seriously, and the truth is, he isn’t.

They’d both gotten an email from Mon this morning, addressed to the entire news division, asking them all to attend an emergency staff meeting at 1:30. This would have been concerning enough even if it hadn’t been followed by an immediate group text message from Leia to most of the senior staff, asking them to check their emails, but the text really pushed the situation into a new level of stress. Clearly, everything was not alright. 

It didn’t make for an auspicious start to their Saturday, especially when he and Jyn had barely seen each other all week and were supposed to be making up for that lost time. He’d spent more time at his own apartment in Queens this week than he had in months, because they had each been working crazy hours chasing down sources for rapidly developing stories and, even though it would have been easier to crash at Jyn’s place, he didn’t want her to feel like he was just using her for her conveniently-located Midtown apartment. Barely a year ago, he would have said he couldn’t imagine living in Manhattan; he likes to think the physical distance between him and the office helps create some semblance of work-life balance. But this week—and much longer than that, if he’s being completely honest—he’s been trying to figure out how to broach the subject of their living situation with Jyn. Because he’s, quite frankly, of living without her. 

Today was supposed to be their chance to finally spend time together, leave the insanity of the office behind, and maybe actually have that discussion, but Mon’s email had successfully ruined any chance of that happening. It would be a bad time to bring up a subject that might stress Jyn out even more, so Cassian is just trying to salvage any of the relaxation they had planned. They still have a few hours before the meeting, after all, but putting it out of their minds is proving more difficult than they’d hoped.

“I don’t know,” he says, once he’s thought about it. “But I know that if Mon were at liberty to tell us what’s going on, she would have done it already.”

“And that doesn’t worry you at all? That she hasn’t told us anything?”

“Of course it worries me. But I can worry and have a meal with my beautiful girlfriend who I’ve hardly seen at all this week at the same time,” he says. “I’m capable of multitasking.”

Jyn smiles at that, somewhat reluctantly. “I know you are,” she says, looking down at her menu again. “I’ve had sex with you, remember? It was, like, an hour ago?”

Cassian squeezes her hand that he’s still holding once before letting go. “Keep it PG,” he says, under his breath. “We’re in public.”

“Sorry, honey,” Jyn replies, but she laughs when she says it, so she’s clearly not that sorry.

He takes the opportunity, while she’s distracted reading her menu again, to really look at her, in the way she never allows him to when she’s paying attention. Her hair is still damp from the shower they’d taken that morning—Mon’s email had forced them to speed up their morning plans and Jyn had insisted that showering together would make things go faster, which Cassian didn’t think was true but he also wasn’t going to argue about it—and curling a little at the ends, which reach about to her chin. It’s so rare for her to wear her hair down instead of pulling it back and it’s taking a lot of self-control on Cassian’s part not to reach across and run his fingers through it, for all it would be a crazy thing to do when they’re at a restaurant. He catches himself wishing they were seated at a booth, so he could do it inconspicuously, and then realizes, with considerable horror, that he’s becoming one of those people who wants to sit on the same side of the booth as his date and when exactly did that transformation happen?

Jyn tilts her head as she’s reading and brushes a lock of hair out of her face, giving him a better look at the freckles that have appeared on the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks and forehead since she went to Leia’s bachelorette weekend in the Hamptons and got too much sun. She’d shown up at his apartment the Sunday night she got back, not even stopping at her place first in her hurry to see him, and tried to smack his hand away when, later in his bed, he’d attempted to count all the freckles she’d gotten that weekend. She didn’t stop him, though, when he kissed all the ones on her shoulders and he told her she could still taste the sun on her skin. He can see them now, too, thanks to the cut of her dress and he wants to do the same thing, but again, they’re in a restaurant.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Jyn says, without looking away from her menu.

“I’m not staring at you. I’m gazing at you. Lovingly. It’s different.”

“Idiot,” she says, shaking her head and finally looking up. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks now too, which Cassian takes as a sign of victory. “You’re supposed to be deciding what you want.”

“I know what I want.”

“I meant, to eat,” Jyn says, and then cringes. “For breakfast. I mean—you said—what happened to keeping things PG?”

“Sorry,” he says, laughing as he takes her hand again and kisses her knuckles. “You know how I get when you blush.”

“I’m not blushing!”

“My mistake. Must be the lighting in here.”

“You know, the waitress is going to come back any minute now and you’re going to have to be that jerk who asks for another few minutes to look over the menu and then she won’t come back for another twenty minutes and we will starve to death,” Jyn says, petulantly.

“Okay, okay,��� Cassian responds, consolingly. “I’m deciding, I promise.”

“Good.”

“What are you getting?”

“Oh, um,” Jyn says, sounding odd. “Uh, I was just thinking I would maybe get their fruit salad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just something light, you know?”

Cassian watches her suspiciously. “You’ve been wanting to try this place all week...for their fruit salad?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s, uh, really good,” Jyn says, looking anywhere but at him.

“Really? People everywhere are raving about this place’s fruit salad? Like it’s their big recommendation for brunch here?”

“It comes with organic yogurt,” she says, reading from the menu. “Where else are you going to get that?”

“Anywhere else,” Cassian replies, unimpressed. “We could have gotten breakfast at a bodega if that’s all you wanted. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just not that hungry,” Jyn says, shrugging in a way that tells him immediately that she’s lying.

“You went for a six-mile run this morning, Jyn. Please eat something with actual protein in it.”

“Yogurt has protein!”

“Jyn, come on,” he says, seriously. “What’s wrong?”

She sighs dramatically and then reaches for her phone. After a few seconds of searching, she hands it over to him to read what’s on the screen. It’s an article from some trashy gossip site Cassian’s never even heard of that’s just a collection of celebrity baby bump sightings and, after he’s scrolled through a few of them in confusion, suddenly he sees what Jyn is upset about.

“This better not be your way of telling me you’re pregnant,” he says, gesturing at her with the phone.

Jyn reaches out and snatches it back. “Of course not!”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I apparently look pregnant enough that this site published that article with pictures of me in it!”

“In their defense, they did say that there had been no confirmation from your people about the matter,” Cassian says, and gets a scowl for his trouble.

“I don’t have ‘people’! It’s just me, and I’m not pregnant!”

“So what? You’re not going to eat now?”

Jyn shrugs. “I’m just trying to lose a few pounds.”

“From where?” He asks, more indignant about this than he realized. “Jyn, it’s a grainy photograph taken from a distance and at a very weird angle. You do not look pregnant and, even if you did, you don’t need to lose weight. And I’m not just saying that to placate you, as the theoretical father of your non-existent baby. Unless there’s someone else.”

Jyn laughs and rolls her eyes simultaneously, which is her trademark move when he’s successfully made her feel better about something but she’s not ready to admit it yet. “Of course not,” she says. “You’re the only person who could hypothetically impregnate me.”

“Thank God.”

“It’s just—” Jyn starts to say, but hesitates and reconsiders. “I’ve been in the gossip pages a lot lately, and it’s stressing me out.”

“That’s understandable,” Cassian says, nodding. “But maybe, in the future, just complain to me about it, and I’ll let you know that it’s all bullshit?”

“What if it isn’t bullshit?” She asks, as she puts her phone away. “What if I show you an article from one of these sites and it’s true?”

“Then I assume that there will also be pigs flying through the skies and the apocalypse will be near, so I think we’ll have bigger issues to worry about than you wearing something unflattering in a gossip column.”

Jyn scrunches up her nose. “You thought the dress was unflattering?”

“Come on!”

“I bought it that morning because I forgot to bring a change of clothes to your place! My options were limited to what I could find at Nordstrom in a hurry before work!”

“I always think you look great,” Cassian says, taking her hand again briefly.

“And that’s why you can’t be trusted,” Jyn says, pointing at him emphatically. “You’re blinded by lust!”

He laughs at that, surprised. “Is that so?”

“Yes! I bet our waitress has seen the article, and when I order waffles with a side of bacon, she’ll think it’s a pregnancy craving!”

“Or she will think, ‘this woman is at a restaurant for brunch and her order seems totally normal, under those circumstances,’” Cassian says.

“It’s too risky. It’s much safer to just order the fruit salad and suffer,” Jyn says, closing her menu as if to close the discussion.

Cassian sighs, frustrated. “Do you want me to act like a douchebag boyfriend and order for you?” He asks. “That way she’ll judge me and not your order?”

“You’d do that for me?” Jyn asks, eyes bright.

“Anything for the mother of my fictitious child,” he says, closing his menu too.

“I love you a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”

Their waitress appears a moment later, as if she’s been waiting for them to put aside their menus before she approached them again. Cassian didn’t get the vibe from her that she recognized Jyn when they first sat down but she seems a little more nervous now, so it’s possible one of her co-workers said something to her while they were figuring out their orders. If she finds it weird or patronizing that Cassian orders for himself and for Jyn, she hides it well, which either means it’s not that odd, or she’s a seasoned professional who is used to hiding her true feelings about her customer’s choices. Whichever it is, she takes their order and departs without any apparent judgement of Jyn’s eating habits, for which Cassian is eternally grateful.

While they wait for their food, they talk about their week at work, catching each other up on everything that happened behind the scenes of their respective shows. Cassian would have thought one of the advantages of dating someone he works with would be seeing them as much as he wanted, but he and Jyn have whole days at ACN where they don’t actually see each other at all, not even in passing. He doesn’t really worry that they’d get sick of each other if they spent all their time at ACN together—at least, he doesn’t worry that he would get sick of Jyn—but it is nice to still be able to talk about their work when it’s just the two of them, away from everyone else. He wouldn’t know what to do if Jyn insisted on leaving their work at the office each night and he’s relieved he doesn’t have to find out. They’re both intense and passionate about their jobs in a way that not everyone would find charming or easy to deal with, and it’s nice to be with someone who gets it, who gets him.

When their food arrives, Jyn is in the middle of a story about fighting with Kay over a story from the Wednesday edition of Market Wrap-Up and Cassian is reminded of something.

“Before I forget,” he says, as their waitress departs, “I wanted to tell you I took your advice.”

“About what?”

“The Sprint stock. You were talking about it being a good buy earlier this week, and I bought a few shares.”

“You did?” Jyn asks, looking stunned.

“Yeah. You made me like two hundred dollars.”

“I wasn’t giving you advice,” Jyn says, leaning across the table and speaking to him urgently under her breath.

Cassian looks around in bewilderment, wondering what’s gotten into her. “What do you mean? You went on Market Wrap-Up that same afternoon and told your viewers it was a good stock to buy!”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jyn says, leaning back. “And when did you buy the stocks? Before my show or after?”

“Uh, before.”

“Great! So you bought the stocks with information from the early forecast that I gave you before it was public knowledge?”

“I guess so…?”

“Excellent!” Jyn picks up her glass, as though to toast him. “Congratulations, that’s called insider trading! We’re white collar criminals now!”

Cassian just blinks at her in response. “That’s not what insider trading is,” he says, without any conviction. “Is it?”

Jyn just looks at him like he’s a moron, which he might very well be. “If for some reason the SEC started looking into your trading history, they could pick up a clear pattern, tie it back to the fact that you’re in a relationship with me, a person who gets information about publicly-traded companies before the general public does, and yes, that would be considered insider trading.”

“Well, I didn’t know I couldn’t use the information until after you told everyone else about it,” Cassian says, putting his head in his hands. “How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Because it’s fucking obvious!”

“Maybe to you,” he says, miserably. “I thought you were telling me for a reason.”

“Not so you could make extra money on the stock market,” Jyn shouts, and then makes a face when she realizes how loud it was. “I was just having a casual conversation with my boyfriend about work.”

“I’m sorry, okay? From now on, I won’t listen when you talk,” Cassian says, and Jyn glares at him. “That came out wrong. I just won’t buy any more stocks on your advice.”

“Are you sure this is the first time you’ve done this?” She asks. In thinking it over, he clearly takes too long to respond, because Jyn curses under her breath.

“It’s not like I’m making billions here, Jyn,” he finally says. “Why would the SEC investigate me?”

“I don’t know! Maybe because you’re dating one of the most prominent financial journalists in the country!”

“Okay, relax,” he says, holding out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “We have to go to ACN this afternoon for this meeting anyway. While we’re there, we can just ask legal if we’re in violation of any laws. It’ll be no big deal.”

“We should get married,” Jyn says, suddenly, suggesting she hasn’t been listening to his speech at all.

Cassian is almost certain it takes him a full minute to respond, which he mostly blames on the rushing noise in his ears making it hard to think. “I’m sorry, what?” He asks, weakly.

“We should get married,” she repeats, as if he’s terribly slow. “So we can’t be forced to testify against each other in court.”

“I—that’s why you want to get married?”

“Well, if it’s a choice between that and going to prison, then yes.”

Cassian runs a hand over his face, as if that will magically clear his head of all of the thoughts warring for his attention at the moment. How did they even get here?

“I’m glad that on a list of things you might have to do someday,” he says, carefully, “marrying me outranks going to prison, if only just barely.”

Jyn blinks at him for a moment before realization dawns on her face. “That’s not what I meant,” she says. “Besides, you’re the one who hasn’t said anything.”

“What?!”

“I asked you to marry me and all you’ve done is ask me questions,” Jyn says, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. “So, if anyone here doesn’t want to get married, it’s you.”

“I never said that,” Cassian fires back, but Jyn remains unimpressed. “I just—are you actually proposing?”

“No! Not now that I know how you’ll react!”

Cassian can feel tension pooling in his forehead and he’s surely going to have a headache in a matter of moments. “I’m going to get the check,” he says, rising out of his seat, but Jyn catches him by the arm before he can get anywhere. 

“No,” she says, pulling him back to the table. “I’m starving and I know this is meeting is going to suck, so I’m going to sit here and eat my feelings in preparation for it. And I’m not doing it alone.”

“Fine,” Cassian says, dropping back into his seat dramatically. “What do we—?”

Jyn holds up her knife to silence him. “We don’t have to talk,” she says, and proceeds to eat her waffles without so much as looking at him.

They finish the rest of their meal in silence, waiting until they’ve paid their tab and left the restaurant before they say anything more to each other. They’re standing on the sidewalk out front, and Cassian can tell Jyn feels just as unsure as he does in this moment.

“So, what are we doing?” He finally asks, when the awkwardness becomes unbearable. “Should we—?”

“Are you serious right now?!” Jyn shouts. “You want to have this out in public? Where anyone could hear us?”

Cassian turns, mid-way through Jyn’s tirade, and heads for the side of the road. 

“You’re not seriously walking away from me while we’re having a fight, are you?” She asks, and she still sounds furious but her eyes betray the worry underneath it.

Cassian holds an arm out in the direction of the road. “I’m hailing a cab,” he says, calmly. “I was going to ask if you wanted to walk to ACN but you seem upset, so I thought we’d just take a cab there.”

“Oh,” Jyn says, softly. “Well, fine.”

A cab pulls up at that moment, and Cassian opens the door, gesturing for Jyn to get in and then following her inside. He gives the driver the address and settles in. It’s only a five minute ride at the most, but Jyn spends it squished into her corner of the backseat, resolutely ignoring him. Cassian would be more upset about it if the alternative didn’t involve them having a screaming fight in front of a cab driver, which he definitely doesn’t want, so he tolerates the silent treatment until they get to the ACN building. 

He gets out first and goes to the front passenger door to pay the driver, while Jyn gets out too. Cassian turns around when he’s finished paying, only to find Jyn already several feet ahead of him, making a beeline for the front entrance of the building. He jogs to catch up with her—she can really move when she’s angry—but he resists the impulse to take her hand in his own. It’s a bad idea not only because they’re going into the office right now—and they do normally try to be discreet at work—but also because Jyn usually needs space when she’s upset. It’s almost like she can’t process her feelings if he’s trying to comfort her by touching her. He wants nothing more in the world than to pull her close and be reassured himself that this is just some silly argument, but it’s not just about him and what he needs right now. So he settles for walking into the lobby of the building by her side and sneaking glances at her, trying to ascertain her mood at the moment.

After a second, she turns to glare at him. “What did I say about staring at me?” she asks, sharply.

“I’m not. I’m just—”

“Gazing?” She suggests, and there's no missing the sarcasm in her tone. “Lovingly?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on, Jyn,” he says, ignoring the jab at him.

“Nothing is going on,” she says, as she swipes her card to let them past security. “We’re just two pals, having a casual, fun time together.”

“Oh, is that what we are?” 

“Yep,” Jyn replies, stretching the word out to ridiculous proportions.

She then presses the button to call the elevator with more force than is probably necessary. The doors open immediately, and they both get on and stand in opposite corners, not looking at each other.

“Just two buddies, who have casual sex and share stock tips and who aren’t getting married,” she continues, almost to herself.

Cassian looks at the ceiling, trying to rein in his frustration. “I thought you said I couldn’t use the stock tips!”

“Well, how about the sex?!”

The elevator doors, which were in the process of closing, jerk to a stop as someone sticks an arm into the elevator. The doors part all the way to reveal Bodhi, waiting to board and looking extremely uncomfortable. He clears his throat awkwardly and steps onto the elevator, taking the only spot that is available to him, standing between Cassian and Jyn. He leans forward to press the button for the fifth floor.

“You know you’ve got to hit the button for it to go anywhere, right?” He asks, looking back and forth between the two of them. Jyn looks resolutely ahead of her, refusing to make eye contact and leaving Cassian to respond. 

“I always forget to do that,” he says, trying to sound conversational and pleasant.

Bodhi nods in response but says nothing. The elevator starts to move, even as its occupants remain silent.

“I don’t know what you heard—” Cassian starts to say, but Bodhi cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“Nothing,” he says, not looking at Cassian. “I heard absolutely nothing.”

“Okay,” Cassian agrees, nodding. They don’t have to talk about it. That’s fine. That’s perfect. “Because whatever you might have heard—”

“Cassian,” Jyn snaps, from Bodhi’s other side. “He said he didn’t hear anything.”

“I know,” he says. “I understand.”

“Good,” she says, going back to staring into the distance.

A moment passes in silence, but Cassian can’t stop himself from saying, “I’m just trying to say that, if he did hear anything just now, well, it would be great to keep it between us, you know?”

Both Bodhi and Jyn turn to look at him as if he’s lost his mind, but he can’t help it. He keeps talking, leaning over to get closer to Bodhi.

“We try to keep this—our personal lives—out of the office. You understand that, right?”

Bodhi nods patronizingly at him. “Sure,” he says. “I mean, literally everyone knows, but—”

“Sorry, what?” Jyn asks.

“Everyone knows,” Bodhi says, calmly. “About you two. It’s not a secret.”

“There’s no way that everyone knows,” Cassian says, feeling somewhat horrified.

“I mean, I guess there’s maybe, theoretically speaking, somebody who doesn’t. One of the janitors, maybe,” Bodhi says, with a shrug. “But pretty much everyone knows, yeah.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean...you two are not subtle,” Bodhi replies, easily. “Kay texts me to complain about it all the time.”

“He does?” Jyn asks, annoyed.

“Uh, yeah.”

“And what do you say?”

“Nothing,” Bodhi says, too quickly, holding up his hands defensively in a way that makes it obvious he’s lying. “I think you two are great together. I just don’t want to get involved.”

Luckily for Bodhi, the elevator reaches their floor at that moment and he ducks out as soon as the doors open. Jyn goes to follow him but Cassian stops her with a hand on her elbow before she can leave the elevator bay. She turns around to look at him, but her expression is still closed off, as if she doesn’t really want to have this conversation.

“Just listen to me for one minute,” he says, when he’s sure Bodhi is gone. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted at the restaurant, okay? I understand why you’re upset.” He takes a deep breath, to keep his voice steady. “But I just couldn’t imagine us getting engaged without you meeting my mother first.”

Jyn’s eyes widen in alarm, but she doesn’t say anything in response, so Cassian continues. “It’s just that she’d be so upset if she didn’t meet the woman I was going to marry with enough time before the wedding to really get to know you, and I just didn’t know how to say that, in the moment.”

He watches her carefully, trying to keep a straight face while Jyn visibly starts to panic. He manages well enough for about twenty seconds, but he can feel the corners of his mouth turning up even as he tries not to smile, and then Jyn’s face clears as she realizes what’s happening.

“You asshole!” She shouts, looking away from him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jyn,” he says, feigning sincerity. “Did I just throw something extremely intimidating at you without warning? Are you maybe not ready to meet my mother right now, at this stage of our relationship?”

“That sucked,” Jyn says, pointing a finger at him. “I can’t believe you just did that to me.”

“How was that any different than that little test you gave me at the restaurant?” Cassian asks.

“Because mine wasn’t supposed to be a test! I was just—”

“Genuinely asking me to marry you?”

“No! Of course not! I was just—“

Cassian doesn’t get to find out, then, what Jyn was just doing, because Bodhi comes back around the corner into the elevator bay from the ACN offices in a hurry.

“You both need to come to the conference room, right away,” he says, and there’s no levity or friendliness whatsoever in his tone. He looks terrified. “Like, right now!”

Jyn looks back at Cassian, a million questions written over her face, and he inclines his head in the direction of Bodhi and their offices and whatever the hell is going on. They can figure their shit out later, he thinks, hoping she somehow gets that just from his expression. She nods, in comprehension, and even in the middle of a fight, he’s relieved at how well they can read each other. As they follow Bodhi and head afor the conference room, Cassian puts his hand on Jyn’s back, to guide her and to steady himself, and she doesn’t pull away.

————

Something like six hours and an attempted FBI raid of the newsroom later, Cassian walks out of a meeting with Draven and Mon with a mercifully receding headache and some papers he needs to put on his desk for Monday before he can go home. He’s not sure how he’s going to relax and take his mind off of work for the evening once he leaves—it’s not every day that one of the junior staffers violates the Espionage Act and has to flee the country—but that’s what he was told to do by Mon. She claims she and Leia and Han, along with their legal department, are dealing with it and that the rest of the staff should get some rest and prepare themselves for next week, which is sure to be a shitshow—his wording, not hers.

As he walks through the bullpen towards his office, he reminds himself to text Jyn. Hopefully, she’s already gone home, but he hasn’t seen her for a few hours. When he last saw her, she was in a corner with Kay, their heads put together over something, which is the real sign things are bad, if those two are getting along. Then the almost-raid of the newsroom almost happened and in the aftermath, everyone had gone off to put out separate fires and he’d lost track of her. He doesn’t know if she’ll want to see him right now, since he’s fairly certain that, in spite of the work crisis, they’re still fighting, but he figures a text just to check in and see if she’s alright would probably be okay.

As he pushes the door to his office open, he realizes that texting her won’t be necessary because she’s already waiting for him. She’d been looking at her phone when he came in, but she turns her attention to him immediately, and even in the semi-darkness of the room, he can see the worry and exhaustion in her features. 

“Hey,” he says, and it comes out like an exhale. He didn’t realize how badly he needed to see her until she was right in front of him.

“Hi,” she says, offering him a weak smile.

“Are you waiting for me?”

That sort of obvious question would normally get him an eye roll and a sarcastic response, but it’s been a weird day and everyone is a little off their game, so Jyn just nods, looking nervous.

“Yeah, Leia told me to go home for the night, so I thought I’d see what was going on with you before I left.”

“I’m heading out, as well,” he says, and it feels like they’ve never had a conversation before. It’s not their style to be this careful around each other, and it never has been, not even when they first met. It just doesn’t feel right. “Mon’s orders,” he adds, trying for a joking tone to get them back to normal.

Jyn nods, distracted, but doesn’t laugh or otherwise indicate that his attempt to lighten the mood worked at all. He’s about to try again, to say anything that will make this conversation more natural and easy, like things almost always are with them, when Jyn sighs, loudly, startling him.

“What are we supposed to do now?” She asks, despondently. 

Cassian clears his throat, not sure if she’s talking about everything that’s happened at ACN today or if she’s talking about them and their relationship. It seems safer to focus on work, at the moment, though, so that’s what he does.

“I think we’re supposed to go home and get some rest and hope for the best,” he says, not sounding fully convinced himself. When Jyn just gives him an unimpressed look, he adds, more seriously, “We have to trust that the people we work with know what they’re doing, and that they’ll take care of it for us.”

“It’s not us I’m worried about,” Jyn says, bitterly.

“I meant the collective ‘us.’ Not just you and me.”

Jyn looks at him, then, watching him carefully. “And what about you and me?” She asks, quietly, her tone guarded. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Like I said, we go home and—”

“But are we—?” She asks, and then stops herself. She gestures at him, frustrated by her inability to articulate her question. “Do we go—?”

“I’m not going to Queens tonight unless you expressly ask me to, Jyn,” he says, saving her the trouble of finding the right way to phrase it. “I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you.”

She wrings her hands, not quite looking at him. “Even after everything that happened today?” She asks tentatively.

Cassian just barely suppresses a laugh at that. It would be the wrong thing to do right now, to laugh at her, but the idea she’s presenting is absurd. “Especially after everything that happened today,” he says.

“But I—”

He holds up a hand to stop her. “Not here,” he says.

“We have to talk, Cassian.”

“I know,” he agrees. “Let’s talk about it on our way home. I just...I need to get out of here.”

Jyn makes a face as if she’s considering arguing with him about this, but she apparently reconsiders. Why she would want to spend any more time at the office on a Saturday they were supposed to have off is beyond him, but he can also admit that the prospect of actually talking through everything that’s happened today and figuring out what it means for them, as a couple, is pretty daunting. That’s why, when she finally nods her acquiescence, he holds out a hand to her and breathes a sigh of relief when she takes it. Things always work out so much better when they’re on the same side.

Walking out through the bullpen, most of the staff has already gone home, thankfully. There’s not much else they can do right now, anyways. In one of the conference rooms, Mon and Leia are having an intense discussion, which is only possible to see because whoever designed this building made the inexplicable decision to only use glass walls and doors. There are very few secrets at ACN, Cassian thinks, and squeezes Jyn’s hand. She gives him a small smile back, before waving goodbye with her free hand to Bodhi and Poe, who are talking in hushed tones at their desks while Bodhi also clicks around furiously on his computer, eyebrows drawn together in either concern, or concentration, or both.

“What are they—?” Jyn starts to ask.

“Some twitter fiasco created by another junior staffer,” Cassian answers before she can finish. Jyn gives him an alarmed look, so he continues his explanation. “They sent out some insensitive tweet in the middle of the night and then had the good sense to delete it, but apparently not quickly enough. Somebody screenshotted it, they got fired, and now Bodhi and Poe are cleaning up the whole mess.”

“How did I not hear about this?” She asks, astonished.

“In terms of disasters happening at ACN today, I don’t even think this one even qualified for the top three, so it didn’t make the rounds. And you know how Bodhi hates firing people. He probably didn’t want to talk about it.”

Jyn tsks in understanding. “Poor Bodhi.”

“Not exactly a banner day for the network in general,” Cassian says, as they arrive at the elevators.

That makes Jyn laugh, for whatever reason. “No, not exactly.”

They take the elevator down to the lobby in silence, in sharp contrast with their elevator ride earlier, back when they’d been arguing in front of Bodhi and had no idea what sort of drama awaited them in that meeting. Cassian knows that the things they were arguing about matter in the long run, but they don’t feel particularly important right now. Not compared to everything else that they’re dealing with at work. Not compared to how nice it is to be holding Jyn’s hand and going home with her after a long day.

They pause when they finally exit the building, standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide what to do next. It’s been one of those rare, wonderful summer days, where it was hot and humid earlier, but everything cooled off when the sun set. There’s even a nice breeze blowing and Jyn lets go of his hand so she can put on her jacket. When she’s finished, instead of taking her hand again, Cassian puts his arm around her shoulders and she happily leans into his embrace. 

“Should we walk back to your place?” He asks, after pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Sure. It’s a nice night for it,” Jyn says, and after the day they’ve had, there’s no room for exuberance, but she seems content enough by his side.

They start making their way back to Jyn’s apartment without saying anything else. For all they love to talk, it’s nice that they can also be quiet together and not feel like anything is missing, Cassian thinks to himself as they walk. It would be a lot more enjoyable, though, if he wasn't worried about what happened between them earlier and trying to talk about it without everything going to hell all over again. Then, suddenly, what he wants to say becomes perfectly clear to him. He can’t believe he didn’t realize it sooner.

“Jyn,” he says, without looking at her, not wanting to break the spell, “if you really want to get married, we can go to City Hall tomorrow.”

Jyn is quiet for a long moment, processing what he’s said. “Tomorrow is Sunday, Cassian,” she finally says. “City Hall isn’t open.”

“Monday morning, then. Whatever,” he says, and when he glances over at her, she looks like she’s going to argue with him, so he keeps going. “‘Tomorrow’ was just supposed to mean, ‘whenever you want.’”

“I don’t want to strong arm you into it,” she says, giving him a searching look.

“You’re not. You couldn’t.”

“I couldn’t?”

“You can’t ‘strong arm’ me into doing something that I want to do,” he says, pulling her closer into his side. “I want to marry you someday. I just didn’t think it was going to be eight months into our relationship, that’s all.”

“Because you want me to meet your family first?” Jyn asks, cautiously.

“I was actually just trying to trip you up with that—”

“So, you don’t want me to meet your family?”

“I’d prefer to marry you first, honestly,” Cassian replies. “That way, when you see how crazy my family is, you’ll already be stuck with me.”

Jyn smiles at that, a small, hesitant thing. “I’m already stuck with you,” she says, softly, and his heart honestly skips a beat.

“Spoken like someone who’s never met my family,” he jokes, rather than addressing what she just said.

“They can’t be that bad,” she says.

“I have these two cousins—they’re twin brothers—and they have all these ideas for weird businesses they want to start and they will ask you to invest.”

“Cassian—”

“My abuela is definitely going to call you by my high school girlfriend’s name,” he continues, ignoring her interruption.

“Is that the last time you had a serious girlfriend?” Jyn asks, caught somewhere between concerned and amused.

“The last one she remembers, at least,” Cassian says. “She’s pretty senile. And my mom—well, she’s going to love you.”

Jyn laughs, burying her face in his shirt. “No, she’s not,” she says, once she’s recovered.

“She will,” he says. “Eventually.”

“I have been told that I grow on people. Like a fungus.”

“Or a vine, maybe?”

“Vines don’t grow on people, Cassian,” Jyn points out, needlessly. 

“That’s why you have the PhDs in this relationship,” he says, kissing her hair. “And my family will love you, because I love you. I’m not worried.”

“You should be,” she says. “If I have to meet your family, you have to meet mine and my family is Saw.”

“I’ve met Saw before.”

“Asking him a single question at a press conference one time seven years ago is not the same as meeting him, especially when you’re sleeping with his goddaughter now.”

“I’m doing a lot more than sleeping with his goddaughter,” Cassian interrupts, petulantly.

“Don’t say that when you meet him!” Jyn cries, swatting his arm.

“I just meant…we’re serious! We’re not friends with benefits, or something casual like that. I’m not just sleeping with you. I’m in love with you.”

“That won’t impress Saw.”

“From what I can tell, nothing impresses Saw,” he says. “He’s terrifying.”

“Yeah but he’s family,” Jyn says, with a shrug that jostles Cassian’s arm. 

“I notice you’re not reassuring me that Saw will love me eventually, the way I did for you with my family.”

“I want you to meet him, because he’s important to me. But he doesn’t get a vote when it comes to my love life. If he doesn’t love you, too bad. I do. You’re permanent. He can get used to it.”

Cassian makes a big show of looking at his watch. “Where was that romantic speech eight hours ago when you first proposed?” He asks, and Jyn bumps him with her shoulder in retaliation.

“Shut up,” she says, looking at her feet. “I wasn’t actually proposing.”

“Did we not just agree to get married?”

“Yeah, someday.”

“But not soon?” He asks, confused.

“Whenever we feel like it,” Jyn says, shrugging again but there’s nothing feigned about it. “We have the rest of our lives, after all.”

Cassian stops them on the sidewalk, and turns Jyn to look at him. “I think that still technically makes me your fiancé,” he says, sliding his hands up to frame her face. “Since we’re getting married someday.” 

Jyn rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too. “I guess. Technically,” she says. “But I want all the credit for proposing, then.”

“We can’t tell anyone our actual proposal story,” he says, laughing. “Ever.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t have people knowing that I tricked you into marrying me by accidentally committing a white collar crime.”

Jyn scrunches up her nose, realizing how that sounds. “Good point,” she agrees. “I feel like other people aren’t going to understand how romantic that is.”

At that, he finally gives in and kisses her, not caring that they’re in public and this is exactly the sort of thing Jyn doesn’t want the paparazzi catching her doing. She doesn’t seem to mind right now, though, because she presses up onto her toes and kisses him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. They probably shouldn’t carry on like this where anyone could potentially see them, but it’s not that thought that actually stops Cassian. It’s something else entirely.

“Wait,” he says, pulling back. “Should I buy you a ring?”

Jyn looks perplexed by the question, or maybe just annoyed that he’s not still kissing her. “You don’t have to,” she says, finally.

“I mean, I know how much you hate diamonds.”

“Do you know the markup on diamonds? It’s ridiculous. They are so cheap, and yet they’ve been marketed so well—”

“Jyn, honey. I’ve heard this speech before,” Cassian says, kissing her forehead.

“I know. I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head a little, as if to clear her thoughts. “I don’t want an engagement ring.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am,” Jyn says, and he doesn’t think she’s pretending. “Besides, I’m the one who proposed. I should get you a ring.”

Cassian laughs. “I also don’t want an engagement ring.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he says, kissing her again. “I have everything I want already.”

“So corny,” Jyn says, laughing, but she kisses him back anyway, and that’s what matters.

———

In the end, it’s Han and Leia who have the City Hall wedding at a moment’s notice, and it’s perfect for them, Cassian thinks, as he watches the ceremony with Jyn by his side. He hasn’t even slipped up and called her his fiancée at the office yet, which is astonishing because, according to their friends and coworkers, subtlety is not their strong suit. Their discretion is even more impressive considering that Jyn ultimately did find something shiny she could give him to celebrate their engagement: a key.