#i ran out of time to do the garden any justice but those are of course chilli plants

[daily-rika]

Daily Rika #3

Rika waters the garden

[golden-risuto]

CW: This particular character is mentally unstable. I will do my best to make her realistic, but please let me know of any flaws. I would appreciate it very much.

Delilah Mun-Ime the Tlacuache

“It's still a dream worth keeping.”

Gender: Woman.

Orientation: Straight.

Nicknames: Del, Luna, Yuè (Father and brother).

Species: Fairy Opossum, part moon creature (Normal form showed).

Physique: Chubby, less than average height (4'11")

MBTI: INFJ 9w8.

Occupation: Art teacher, artist.

Neurotype: Autistic and BPD.

Elemental Alignments: Water and Dark.

Song: A Dream Worth Keeping · Sheena Easton (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I61G6qPM_yQ)

Background:

A 34 years old Tlacuache who lives the dream that many would like to have: A powerful husband, living off her art, a good reputation within her village, and two fantastic children... If only that reflected reality. Her life is far from perfect, since Delilah has been the victim of a forced marriage at the age of 19 to the son of the previous chief of Sigilla Village, Zechariah Demirkan, whom she detests with all her being. A fate Del wouldn't wish even on her worst enemy.

She hasn't had peace since her childhood, after that fateful day where her older brother, Stanford Mun-Ime the Coyote, ran away from home to save himself from a terrible future. Certain superior figures have been and continue to be very strict on her so she never thinks to almost go out of line again, against her wishes. Delilah, due to her reserved nature and fatigue at this point, avoids conflict to maintain the little inner peace she maintains... Although, sometimes, that flame that existed in her youth is fanned, seeking justice in short-lived explosive ways.

Despite all the bad things in her life, Delilah finds passion in her work as an Art Teacher in Sigilla Village, as well as in artistic, alchemical and gardening hobbies at home. She feels a lot of appreciation for her students and some members of the community, who see her as a stubborn, yet wise woman for her choices. However, she finds greater satisfaction in the relationship she has with her father and firstborn, Delilah wouldn't know what to do without them.

Special Info:

- A little known talent, inherited from lunar ancestors, is her ability to absorb moonlight and transfer it to a liquid as a potent ingredient for potions. The residents know of the existence of those potions and buy them to cure their illnesses, but they do not know the true origin of some components.

- Feels a huge emptiness for what could have been if the first escape plan had worked out, her life would have taken a big turn and perhaps Delilah would be very happy, even though she'd had little. However, it is still a dream worth keeping, even if the years have gradually diminished hopes.

- Delilah was in love with another man when she got married and Zechariah, at the beginning of the marriage, tried to make her fall in love with his qualities, but time proved that it would never happen between them and they currently live together like two strangers who detest each other.

- The abandonment of two significant figures has triggered an intense fear of being abandoned again, regardless of whether it is real or imaginary. She's even tried to convince herself not to have connections with others to avoid the pain... If only she didn't crave it at the same time.

- Has a hidden fairy form, but she prefers to stay normal for comfort and not to attract so much attention when it's already combined with her lunar form, whether good or bad.

- Cannot control her emotions and impulses a lot of times, the most benign of all being buying a lot of art supplies and one of the most harmful being alcohol, especially wine.

- After a long day of being overloaded with stimuli, there is nothing better for her than eating comfort food, cooking, reading a book or taking care of the garden. Likewise, she teaches her child Bastion the magic of art and do activities together.

- A faithful follower of the fairy demigod, Faunus, Delilah has felt their presence so many times that she cannot help but feel excited for his return and it's one of the few things that keeps her sane. She was proud of Bastion the day they decided to serve as an assistant in the Church of the Sacred Fruit.

- Her parents are recognized figures, she had a childhood free of economic worries thanks to the work of her father and his puppet... Enchanted shows and her mother, attending to the needs of the place. Delilah has a huge collection of books ranging from books from her childhood, art, culture, alchemy, outer space and even forbidden books on moon magic.

- Has a complicated relationship with her second child, Zebereo Demirkan the Red Panda, since he has a very similar attitude to his father. She loves him, but at the same time she finds it difficult to connect with him, which adds seeds of resentment between the Demirkan siblings.

[semperanneboleyn]

   Ill-assimilated as the two were in sex, age and opinions on romantic pursuits, Anne and William always found a great deal to say to one another. Perhaps it was pride which saw Anne to remark her son was not quite as other boys were; he was capable of intervals of contemplation, he displayed glimmers of instinctive taste - all of his delight did not lay in decisive action. His fair English cheek was high-coloured, his brow bore severe and tender meanings, as every Boleyn supercillium was bade to. Anne smiled; there was often accusation of the Boleyn blood was mixed with French phlegm; paling besides other glib fictions which ran from insincere to heartless. To do all parties justice, the Boleyn's had a hypocrisy of their own; but it was of a higher order, few could deceive. "I shall not field your tears when you cry your English bride lacks the charms required of a Queen; lest of course, you shall seize upon the English reared Marguerite." She lay a lash of sarcasm with an unsparing hand; William who knew her best, did not wince beneath such an attack. "You shall be spared accordingly, should your second born, a daughter in possession of fine eyes, be named in my honour. Thus you cannot wed a Grey - you shall agree? Those sisters would not tolerate such an indignity as to have their flesh bearing my honour." 

His present business was to enjoy youth, and not to think of fettering himself by promise or vow, to any strategic woman in want of a crown. "Elizabeth bestows upon them virtues to make them as good as saints; shall they forfeit goodness, for your kiss?" Anne had no doubts that any young lady was susceptible to share William's flame in its purity; for when he spoke, his spirit seemed wholly new - with this fire he harangued his listeners, and was never in wont for praise of a woman's heart. "Does the court of his majesty then decree all fine ladies to be unobstructed in their gaiety, and unbound to duties - save for those entailed by the King? I shall petition you to give me fair warning of these proclamations, so that I may secure a comfortable chair to observe your sisters response." 

She could have, in French, rolled out readily phrases stigmatising and flavoured bitterness on Lady Suffolk and her labours; but she took stock of the woman, whom she deemed could be easily managed. And it was not to be forgotten Anne carried fondness for the girl, whom time forced her to regard as wholly a woman. "I have ceased to look at Lady Suffolk in such circumstances; she is not interesting. Our detractors are numerous, but has a challenger to your Uncle, in both cleverness and villainy, emerged?"" Anne had endured may women in her time; those beautiful in the fragile existence of a garden rose - little would be to remain after their bloom had vacated. "Not from lack of efforts, if the rumours regarding her husband's occupation as a milquetoast is to believed. Still, there is ample time for you to beat her to the finish line - on your wedded bed, which I should hear no whispers of your premature begetting."  

Although the King’s visage was lionised for its marked resemblance to his late father, few could deny the similarity held between mother and son, in blood, demeanour, and appearance. From the very moment Wills was ushered into the world, blinking in the vast, curtained chambers of Greenwich Palace with eyes of ink-black onyx, he proved an unmistakable Boleyn . ‘He looks like Brother George,’ his aunt, Mistress Carey, cooed as she swaddled the newborn prince in silk of heaven-blue – unaware of just how prescient, and potentially insidious, her words would prove. But, to his father’s delight, as Will grew into his own his Boleyn traits steadily bleached and bled away like a stone in the sun; his shock of rust-red hair, broad shoulders, tallow complexion, slight hunch, and kingly confidence the mark of his majestic Tudor forebears, leaving only his eyes and the sulky curve of his mouth as proof of his matrilenial lineage. It was Elizabeth who now conveyed their mother’s likeness, their mother’s pride: but still, even in her, Henry’s royal blood ran amok. Pumping and clogging and gritting against every vein, etched in blue-indigo rivers beneath the princess’ translucent skin.

It was a constant temptation to smirk at his mother’s wayward tongue, eliciting a worshipful murmur from her ladies clustered behind the dais. But if he spoke out of turn, his words would be passed from mouth to mouth like ulcers, travelling from London to the pale-yellow fields of the countryside and beyond England’s diaphanous borders, and Wills had learned to bite his tongue. But what more could they expect from a man who was half Boleyn? The Boleyns provoked tempers; courted scandal. His father’s first wife had never spoken the way Anne did, with language one wouldn’t use to command a dog. ‘Which is why, mother, I am in no rush to take a French bride from the crop.’ He tilts his head curiously, a whiff of amber-scented fur wafting into his nostrils. ‘Will you forgive me if my children are not sufficiently French-blooded?’

Like the low-ebbs of the Thames shrinking away from its muddy banks, Wills burrows into his coat, the heat of his mother’s interrogation evoking a blush. ‘She has, and she will,’ He said pointedly, ‘But what lady of hers would not crave the attention of a King? They are all so stilted by her harsh demands. You must tell her not to behave so sternly. Court is a happy place again – and we must not tread into the bleakness of the past once more.’ His hands form a steeple, composed of the finest rubies and richest silver, fingertips pressed flush against one another, callous-to-callous. ‘I am sure that there are those around us – perhaps even closer than we think – who would be all too glad to have my throne. Did you see the Lady Suffolk is among us again?’

He leans conspiratorially toward his mother, remarking: ‘consider ourselves lucky, madam, that her head is as empty as her belly.’

[shimmeringlights44]

Strawberry Wine

part two

warnings: sexual content, fem receiving oral, mentions of alcohol

minors DNI

word count: 3k (she's hefty omg)

AN: hiiiii!!! here's part two of my beloved cowboy!Austin series!! I hope you enjoy and I will link part one here if you want to go read that one!

The summer days were passing by. Later in the month Momma started inviting him to dinner with us. Getting to see him in a more natural and recurring setting helped me feel a little more comfortable around him. He seemed reserved but interested in talking to me. 

I usually tried to avoid any one on one moments with him as I'm still trying this ‘me myself and I’ thing. It never failed though he would always find a way by me, finding a reason to come in the garage when i'm there or pulling weeds by the pond when i'm out sunbathing. I can't lie and say I didn't like the attention but he made it so hard to truly avoid him. 

This particular morning his truck was gone so I figured I could go get some alone time in the garden.

I padded to the garden and gandered at my towering sunflowers when I felt a somewhat familiar presence behind me. I turned around to find Austin looking around at all my flowers when he asked-

“How big are they supposed to get?” I think he just wanted a reason to talk to me. 

“Uhhh well they're already about 6 or 7 feet so I think they're pretty much done. I'm just waiting for the heads to finish opening.” “Should be any day now huh?” “Yea…” 

With a chuckle he asked “Well I-.. I was wondering if you'd like to help me paint your shed over there. I managed all the dirty work but it sure could use a pretty girl's touch on the paint.”

 I couldn't tell if he was being sweet or trying to genuinely flirt with me. Playing along I decided to say

 “So, you think I'm pretty?” 

He smiles and says “I do, so will you help me or not?” 

So was I supposed to just gloss over the fact that he called me pretty? Okay.

 “Oh, yea sure!” I started marching over to the shed ahead of Austin to try and hide the giddy smile forming on my face.

I came upon the shed, it looking almost brand new at this point.

 “You really out did yourself Austin! It hasn't looked this nice since daddy first built it.” I said while reminiscing on the memories of helping him put it together. 

He rubbed the back of his neck and said “Well, I'm glad I could do it justice for y'all. Now, your momma told me you specifically wanted ‘Ruby Red’ paint-”

“And that's exactly what you got!!” I exclaimed while opening the cans. 

I picked up one of the cans and grabbed a brush while saying “Well let's get going!”

 I decided to start on the front of the shed while Austin took the right side. I was focusing pretty intently on the brush strokes when once again I felt those blue eyes bore into me from around the corner of the building.

 It was endearing but still a little off putting. 

Not peeling my eyes from my work, I asked “Can I help you?” All I heard after that were some weird coughs that made me chuckle. 

After a bit of silent work I decided to go to the same side as Austin. 

Why not?

As I walked over he gave me a little smile and I shot one back. We worked for a little while before his voice broke the silence.

“Do you like to go dancing?” After thinking for a second I responded.

 “Uh I wouldn't say I'm too good at it but I enjoy it when I get to do it.”  With a gulp he asked “Well uh…Would you like to go dancing.. With me?”

 “Uh-” I dropped the brush in my hand from the surprise his question caused me. I Quickly bent down to pick it up and wavered 

“Uh yea I, I would like that.” My cheeks burned with nervousness. 

He grinned at me, his pearly whites flashing before he said “Okay, I'll pick you up at 8 tonight.” 

“Okay”

 We worked in silence again for another 20 minutes before I decided to end the day. I left him to clean everything up after I ran inside to make sense of what just happened.

Is this a date? Maybe? It's only a date if I make it one.

I kinda want to make it one.  

-

That evening I showered and barely managed to eat dinner on account of my nerves. I told momma Austin had invited me to go dancing with him and she didn't seem too surprised. She just told me to be safe and to have a good time.

 I was gonna try to.

I decided on a black dress that made me feel empowered and a pair of black cowboy boots that had been dying to be worn. I did my favorite style of hair and make up and surprisingly felt good. 

Still very nervous, but good.

Checking the clock on the wall it was just about to hit 8pm. I figured he would be right on time only coming from a couple hundred yards away. 

I walked outside to find him pulling up in that old yellow ford of his. He got out of the truck and looked me up and down.

 “You look mighty fine this evening.” He said with a smirk. 

This man I swear.

 I walked around to the side of the truck for him to open the door for me and said “Well you look mighty fine yourself.” 

He really did though. He closed my door and I took the opportunity to check him out as he walked to the driver side of the truck.

He had on a long sleeve jean shirt with the sleeves rolled up a bit and his chest peeking out. I could see a bit of his chest hair now.  Paired with light wash jeans and some alligator skin boots. And topped off with the nicest cream Stedson hat I'd ever seen. 

He had to know what he was doing. 

After he hopped in his truck the smell of his cologne hit me. I squeezed my legs together in reflex, and hoped he didn't notice. He turned the radio on softly and started driving us down the road. It was quiet but it was nice, it didn't feel awkward. 

After a little time we pulled up to the honky tonk and I started getting excited to see where the night would take us. It was loud and rowdy but it seemed like the perfect place to really break the ice with him. 

Following Austin inside he led me to the bartop and pulled out a chair for me to hop into.

Such a gentleman. 

He walked around to sit by me and asked me what I'd like to drink.

“Uh I guess a dirty shirley!” I half yelled back to him trying to converse over the music. “Alright” He flagged down the bartender and got our order in.

I started looking around the bar taking in my surroundings. The dance floor was full of people dancing and swaying to the music. I smiled to myself at the thought of everyone having a good time. I felt something cold and wet hit my hand which prompted me to whip my head back around. I looked over to Austin with a smile and thanked him for the drink. 

We sat together just drinking for a little while. He had a glass of whiskey, neat. I wondered what that said about him. 

We chatted about the bar and the people here and laughed at the expense of some of them. At this point in the night I started to feel a little more loose and warm from the liquor. It was around the beginning of our third drink when things got exciting.

Josh Turner’s ‘Why Don't We Just Dance’ started playing throughout the dance hall. I couldn't help but tap my foot along as this was one of my favorite songs. I felt Austin's eyes on me again, burning, with a want I could really feel. He placed his hand over mine on the bar and grabbed it. I finally caved and looked up at him, his eyes looking quite lustful with a blush creeping onto his cheeks and ears from the alcohol. 

Now, im not sure if it was the liquor giving us both courage, or the amount of sexual tension between us that prompted us to finally act on our needs.

He pulled me from the barstool with a haste I've never known onto the wooden dance floor. He laid his hand on my waist and I let out a gasp when he pulled me closer. So close in fact that I was straddling his thigh. Really straddling his thigh.

He held me so tight while he started whirling us around the dance floor. Leading me in every way. I've never felt so enamored before, so in a trance with the way this man was moving my body. He had to have felt me on his thigh, moving it ever so slightly as we two stepped. It felt so good. 

I was having so much fun giggling and laughing under the boom of the music, having the time of my life. I looked up to see Austin smiling at me when suddenly the song came to an end entirely too soon. As tradition calls for, he spun me around slowly then dipped me. 

“I've never danced with anybody that way before. it -.. It was amazing!” I said basically out of breath. 

We were on the floor standing still but oh-so-close to each other. I could practically feel his breath on my face. 

“I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I'm glad I had the might to pull you out here.” he said with a lick of confidence. 

All of a sudden, Tennessee Whiskey starts playing. 

As the song started, the lights went down and the DJ said  “We're gonna slow it down for you lovers out there tonight.” 

I looked up at Austin expectantly. Wondering what his next move would be.

His eyes trailed down to mine and with a small smile he grabbed my hand and placed it on his heart. He wrapped his arm around my waist once again. This time softer… as if I was delicate.

He started moving us in a slower movement, prompting me to lay my head on his broad, strong chest. In this moment I felt so safe, so cared for, by the ranch hand. 

I'm pretty sure I was drunk to be having these thoughts. I had to be.

 Drunk on Austin.

As I was caught up in the smell of his chest I could quietly hear him start to sing along to the song. 

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey i stay stoned on your love all the time

His deep husky voice sent goosebumps down my spine as we swayed to the song.

-

The night started to come to a close shortly after that last dance. He led me out of the bar to his truck once again. 

This time, on the ride home I sat close to him, thankful for no console in his old truck. He threw his arm around me as I leaned into him. The whole ride home his thumb rubbed my shoulder. 

The drive was entirely too short for my liking. He had pulled us up to the main house and I sat up to look over at him. 

I bit my lip and said “I had the best time with you tonight Austin. I didn't know I could have so much fun.”

“I did too y/n… I-... I was wonderin if I could ask ya something?

“Yea what is it?”

“I was wonderin if it'd be okay if I got to know ya better. Tonight I got a taste of you, and I'd like more of that.” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, nervous.

He wants more of a taste… of me? His words sent that oh-so-familiar feeling down into the pit of my belly. 

Not being able to help myself, I leaned into him and whispered “I think I would like a taste as well.” 

My words caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

I watched him lick his lips, my mouth watering at the thought of connecting with them. Then I looked up to see his eyes already on mine. With haste he closed the distance between us, grabbing my face and latching his lips to mine. 

He tasted so sweet with a hint of jack daniels.

His hands slowly trailed down my body feeling all that he could when he swiftly pulled me on top of him, sitting me in his lap. I took the opportunity to knock his hat off and tangle my hands in his hair and pull. I heard a soft moan emit from his throat. He squeezed my ass in approval, making me sigh in pleasure.

I could feel his bulge growing, his jeans getting tighter by the second. He released another moan after I grinded down onto him

“God you taste so good y/n.” He said between kisses. His hand reached up to my jaw, slightly pulling my head back, exposing my neck. 

He moaned into it saying “I'd love to taste you elsewhere…” 

Holy shit.

“We can't here, but I know where to go.”

I peeled myself off of him and jumped out his truck before grabbing his hand and leading him back behind the house. I stopped at the shed to grab one of the thick blankets we kept in there for the winter  before continuing further away from the house.

 I settled on the other side of the pond thinking it was far enough away from the house where we wouldn't be interrupted. He helped me spread the blanket out before laying down and pulling me to the ground on top of him in the process. 

I straddled his lap on top of him, kissing him passionately before he pulled me away.

“Are you sure this is okay baby? I don't wanna be making you uncomfortable now.” he asked with sincerity in his voice.

“Absolutely, I think I've been wanting this for a long time.”

He smirked at me before pulling me in for another kiss. I started dragging my hands down his body, trying to feel every inch of him. I lifted his shirt up to touch the taught skin underneath. As I felt around, my hands wandered down to the buckle of his jeans when he suddenly flipped us over.

“Uh uh baby, tonight is about you.” he cooed into my chest leaving kisses all around.

He breathed down my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps. When he got to the hem of my dress his eyes flicked up to mine, pleading to continue. Granting his wish I smiled and started pulling my dress up.

I could hear a deep hum of pleasure come from him as he undressed me, noticing I decided to skip a bra tonight. 

“God y/n… you’re gorgeous. Have been since I first laid eyes on you.” he said against the skin of my belly. His hands caressed the outline of my shape, landing on my thighs. 

“I've never been a man of many words so Ihope I can show you just how I feel tonight” he practically whispered onto my heat.

My eyes rolled into the back of my head at the thought.

“Please Austin, I want you” I moaned at this point. 

At the sound of my words he moaned into my underwear, it getting wetter and hotter underneath. He planted a kiss on my pussy before coming up to latch onto one of my breasts, his fingers twisting the nipple of the other one.

He’s barely touching me and I feel like cumming, he’s too powerful. 

He decided to leave a few marks before trailing his mouth south. He looped his fingers into the sides of my panties and slowly pulled them down my legs and threw them to the side. 

I looked down at him. He was almost drooling onto my core. He looked hungry. His now dark eyes flicked up to me one last time before I tangled my hands in his hair and pushed his mouth onto my pussy.

The feeling of his lips on mine was euphoric. 

Laying on his stomach he looped his arms around my thighs keeping me in an iron tight grip. He lapped at my juices and welcomed the sweet taste they brought. 

I knew I wasn't going to last long.

“Au- Austin .. slow- slow down!” I pleaded with him, but that just caused him to continue, adding a finger inside me. 

The feeling of his long finger pumping in and out of me sent me over the edge. Everything became hot and my orgasm washed over me in waves. Hearing me moan through my climax, he continued to pump and lick me bringing me to tears.

I pulled his hand from me, wincing from the empty feeling it left. He sucked on his finger, drawing every last drop of me he could. 

As I twitched, recovering, he crawled up my body to kiss me again, allowing me to taste myself on his lips.

“ Austin-“ 

“I know baby, I know.”

After laying with me and kissing me, he helped me get dressed and walked me back to the house.

“I wanted to thank you for everything tonight. I've been a little apprehensive around you, but I'm so glad you asked me out. I'm ready for more of you.” I said, gazing up to his beautiful blue eyes.

“I'm glad I did too. I've never met anyone like you.” he said back to me looking almost puzzled.

“Well, I hope not.” I coyly said with a smile. 

Since deciding to leave the night on a sweet note, I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before turning inside to revel in the night I'd just had.

[justanobsessedfangirl]

The Sound of Silence - The Maze Runner Newt Imagine

Request from @ausblack: was wondering if you could write a newt x reader where she’s like the new greenie and the only girl. Everyone think she’s mute because she never talked and Newt decides to take care of her since he’s the only one she seems comfortable with. One day another glader attacks her making her scream and for some reason Newt recognizes that it’s her, he gets protective and helps her out. Eventually she speaks her first words to him and they both get together in the end 

Masterlist

Warning: Some mature language

Author’s Note: Sorry I haven’t posted in...a while. If it helps, you can think of me as a turtle. I’m damn slow and it’s pretty frustrating to wait but I’ll get there in the end! I hope I did this idea some justice because I thought it was pretty cool. Thank you for the request, I’m always open! (just remember the turtle analogy.) 

:)

Word Count: 3.6k

You stood in darkness. There was nothing in the darkness except for a quiet hum that rumbled the floor and the walls and the ceiling. It was power, some type of power that was running through this room and making it rise.

You stood in darkness. And you waited.

You weren’t alone, because your fear was so strong it had formed an icy hand, which wrapped around your throat, so tight it was hard to breathe. It took every ounce of your concentration to inhale, and exhale, and inhale again, and all the while the box hummed and rose, and you stood in darkness.

The hum cut off abruptly, the room halting with it. You strained your ears, and, through the loud beating of your heart, you could hear voices. Four heartbeats passed before the roof opened and the room was flooded with light.

You cringed away, raising a hand to block the brightness. Through squinted eyes, you saw boys encircling the room, level with where the roof would have been. Their voices floated down, gasps and shouts of “It’s a girl!”, and the sounds of shoving, bodies against bodies.

You took a step back, but there were boys above you there too. They were everywhere. One jumped down, making the whole box shake, and then you were turning around and around, looking for a break in the boys, a spot you could run through, someone to help, anything, anything, anything--

“It’s alright, love. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You whipped around to face the boy. He had his hands raised, and his eyebrows were knit together in sympathy. He had a kind face, with soft brown eyes.

Even so, any words you had were caught in your throat, caught by fear’s hand, trapped. Trapped, just like you. Your breaths came faster, your heartbeat quicker. Your hands trembled.

Across from you, the boy took a step back and looked up at the others. “Right, all you bloody slintheads need to back up!” He looked at one of the boys closest to the box. “Alby?”

The boy, Alby, nodded, then shouted, “Everyone, back to work!”

The crowd didn’t move. Your heart stopped. Your blood went cold.

Then, with a chorus of grumblings, the mob slowly dispersed. Boys peeled off this way and that, revealing grassy fields and large mountains in the distance. You peered closer. No, not mountains. 

Walls.

“It’s a strange story, love, but we’ll tell you all of it,” the first boy said. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the walls.

“I’m Newt. D’you remember your name?”

No. You’d realized in the darkness that you couldn’t remember anything. You felt strangely detached, like you were watching some other girl with no memories who was abducted and brought to a strange place. You felt pity for her. You felt sad for her. And you kept drifting along, only half-listening to the boy next to her, the one who said his name was Newt.

Newt stepped closer. You watched the girl watch him, watched his mouth move, watched the girl take light, careful steps to the edge of the box and climb out. You watched her stumble.

It was the feeling of Newt’s hand on your back, steadying you, that brought you back to reality.

“I’ll take you on the tour, love,” he said to you, pulling his hand back. In a soft voice, he added, “Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

Your lips parted. Words sat on the tip of your tongue. Are you sure and How do you know and Please be right. And, also, lingering in the back, Thank you.

You swallowed and looked away from Newt.

He started walking. He kept a slow pace, both because of his limp and so he could intermittently point out buildings and people. “That’s Frypan, he’s the cook, and there’s the kitchen. Next to that’s the Homestead. You’ll be sleeping there.”

He spoke with such authority that you wanted to ask what his role in this little society was. If there was a cook, there must be a leader, and you hadn’t seen any adults around. But your tongue wouldn’t move, so all you could do was tilt your head to the side and look at Newt.

He scanned your face, then nodded. “I’m Second-in-Command. Alby’s in charge, but he won’t raise a fuss about you sleeping in the Homestead. We…” Newt ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before making eye contact again. “We haven’t…” He sighed. “You’re the only girl here. We don’t really know how the rest of those shanks will react.” Noticing your instinctive recoil, Newt hastened to say, “But you’ll be okay. Most of these lot are good guys. And the ones that aren’t...Well, they know the consequences. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

There was that fear again, running its hands along your arms, past your shoulders, to your neck. It squeezed painfully around your throat, so painfully that tears threatened to spring up in your eyes. You gave Newt a quick nod and looked away, into the fields he was leading you toward.

He read you like a book and quickly switched topics. “These are the Gardens. When I don’t have other duties, I like to come out here. It’s good work, but it’s also just a good place to be. It’s peaceful.” 

A short, round boy darted out of a row of tomato plants, cackling madly. Lumbering behind him was a tall boy with a shock of curly blond hair, who shouted, “Come back here, Chuck!” The younger boy, Chuck, gave no indication that he’d heard. He disappeared back into the plants, with the tall boy following him.

Newt sighed. “It’s mostly bloody peaceful,” he grumbled.

The smallest of smiles twitched your lips up. You forced them back down, reminding yourself that you were scared, that you couldn’t trust anyone here, and that the way Newt grinned down at you did not make you feel safe.

“We’ll have you start working here tomorrow, all right, love?” Newt asked.

You chewed on your lip, staring over the plants. Your eyes landed on the tomatoes, right where the boisterous duo had gone through. Flutters of anxiety filled your stomach.

“I’ll be with you. There won’t be anything to worry about.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Besides waking up with no memory, that is,” Newt added.

Your lips betrayed you again. Newt grinned, and the butterflies that had been flying inside your chest slowly started to settle down.

Newt led you through the rest of the Glade. You saw the Deadheads and the Blood House, learned about the various jobs and Keepers, and, through it all, you didn’t say a single word. Newt never pushed you. Instead, he watched for facial expressions. He responded to any tap on the arm or flick of your chin. He lingered in the comfortable silences.

As you sat in your room in the Homestead that night, knowing that Newt was asleep in the next room over, you felt your shoulders loosen, just a little. The fear was still there. It still held your throat tightly in its grasp. But you felt a trickle of hope springing in the cracks.

You woke the next morning to a knock on your door. Opening it, you saw Newt.

“Ready to get to work, love?”

You nodded. The smile you gave him was uneasy and weak, nervous and gone in a flash, but it made Newt’s eyes shine with happiness. He smiled the whole way to the Gardens. Under the shining sun, you weeded plants, hoed new rows, and picked vegetables.

Newt stuck by your side. He explained more about the Glade; all you had to do was point to a person or a place and he’d run through it, even if he’d already explained the other day. A few times, you found yourself picking out things you already knew, just so you could keep hearing his voice.

“And then Chuck convinced Minho and Thomas,” Newt said between laughs. Behind him, the sun sat heavy on the horizon, haloing him in gold. “He convinced Minho and Thomas to take the rest of Gally’s clothes and--” Newt broke off, devolving into laughter.

You hadn’t met Minho and Thomas yet -- they’d been busy in the Maze all day yesterday and in the Runner’s Hut all last night -- but you’d heard a lot about them from Newt by now. You’d also heard about “Captain” Gally, and you figured he probably deserved whatever ended up happening to his clothes.

Beneath the cover of Newt’s voice, you felt comfortable letting out a small laugh. It was the first noise you’d made in the Glade.

Slowly, Newt’s laughter stopped. He stared at you, eyes soft, his lips pulled up in a small, pleased smile. He didn’t say anything.

You looked down at the basket in your hands, trying to stop yourself from blushing.

After a second, Newt said, “Before we go to dinner, there’s one last place I want to show you.” He took the basket from you and handed it off to Zart, the Keeper of the Gardens.

The pair of you headed off towards the far wall, away from the buggy Gardens, the dark woods, and the noisy kitchen, where a hungry horde of Gladers clamored to get their dinner.

“It’s not one of the really important places,” Newt said as you walked, “so I didn’t show it to you yesterday.” His hands swung awkwardly at his sides, as though he wanted to reach one out, maybe to guide you, maybe to hold you, but couldn’t decide whether he should or not. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted him to or not.

All you did was nod.

Newt continued, “But I think, maybe, it could be good.”

As you neared the wall, you felt your stomach drop at the sheer size. You craned your head back and back and back, trying to see the top, trying to see if any ivy led all the way up. How could there ever be a way out of those walls?

A warm hand touched your arm.

Your head shot back down, eyes landing on Newt’s. The faintest pink burned on his cheeks, a glow from the sunset, maybe, or... You shook the thought out of your mind as he pointed to the wall.

Carved into the wall in front of you were names. Immediately, your gaze landed on Newt’s. Next to his, Alby’s name was done in blocky letters. Thomas and Minho had made their marks. Chuck’s name was squeezed between the two, as he often was in real life, when he’d inject himself into their days. You recognized enough names to figure out that every Glader had been here once and had left a permanent memento of themselves. Some of those mementos, like the ones with a single sharp line running through them, had already outlasted their creators.

“I thought, I don’t know...I thought maybe seeing other names would help you remember yours.” Newt rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. 

Your heart felt warm in your chest. Yearning took over. You reached a hand out, tracing the closest names, looping through the letters, dotting the i’s, crossing the t’s. You wanted to remember.

Please remember. Remember for Newt. Remember for me.

You pulled your hand away and pointed to Newt’s side, where his knife was strapped. He unsheathed it out without a moment’s hesitation. When he handed it to you, his fingers brushed over yours and you could swear your heart stopped. You had to fight to keep your composure, especially with the feeling of his intense stare as he watched you carve the first letter of your name into the wall.

You felt, rather than saw, Newt step closer to you. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his smile almost took the breath out of you. Your hand stilled as you finished the first letter.

Newt repeated it, sounding almost awed. “Keep going, love.”

Forcing your eyes away from him, you continued carving. Each letter of your name was done with precision, right below Newt’s. It felt fitting to do it there, like he was some guardian angel looking over you, keeping you safe. Being around him made you feel...the English language wasn’t sophisticated enough to describe it. You felt warm. And calm. And the kind of happiness that made your cheeks hurt and your jaw ache, even when you weren’t smiling.

When you finished, Newt said your name, his voice reverent. “Y/N.” He repeated it. He glanced down at you. “Am I saying it right, love?”

He’d gotten closer than you’d thought. His breath nearly hit the tips of your eyelashes. If you moved only a few inches you’d be touching him.

You nodded.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded again. He was so close you felt dizzy. You would’ve agreed to just about anything he said at that point.

“Are you able to speak?”

Your nod was more hesitant this time, slowed by dread for his next question.

“Why don’t you?”

You wanted to look away but his eyes had a hypnotic hold on you. You shrugged half-heartedly. How could you explain that every time you tried to speak your throat closed up? That your mouth went dry and you forgot every word you knew? That your heart started beating erratically, and your palms began to sweat, and it felt like walls were closing in, and you felt the fear again?

Newt nodded. He took a step back, the tension in the air dissolving. Jutting his chin at the wall, he said your name again. A smile crept onto his face. It was that soft, sweet smile that had gotten you through your first days in the Glade.

It got you through the next week, too. A week spent trying other jobs, where your lack of communication proved rage-inducing for a certain captain and ultimately landed you back in the Gardens.

It was rare that Newt wasn’t by your side. Today, though, he and Alby were caught up in meetings with the other Keepers, trying to figure out how to discipline a Glader who’d been making inappropriate comments and trying to instigate fights.

Newt had told you the basics the other day. You hadn’t wanted him to go into detail. He’d seen that on your face and quickly switched to telling you about the first crops they’d tried to plant, which had been such a disaster that the Creators sent up multiple books on farming the next month. The conversation was much lighter from then on.

Being with Newt was so easy. Most of the others pushed you too hard to talk, which only made your throat dry up and your tongue feel like lead. You wanted to talk with them, sometimes, but...you couldn’t get the words out. You couldn’t think of them when it came time to speak. You had a mental block, barricades set up to keep you from feeling too comfortable here. Part of you needed to feel the fear that came with trying to speak. If you stopped being afraid, you’d start getting complacent.

The sound of the Walls grating to a close struck the same feeling in you, even though you were safe in the Gardens, well away from the terrors of the Maze.

“Y/N.” Zart’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “Good job today. Some of the other shanks left a bunch of tools out, could you bring them to the shed? I have to track down Chuck.” His normally placid expression morphed into a scowl as he shook his head, his blond mop of hair flopping over his forehead.

You nodded. The two of you split off among the rows, Zart’s cursing fading as you approached a scattering of trowels and rakes.

You pursed your lips in disappointment before stooping down and trying to gather everything. You ended up with two rakes and a hoe tucked under your right arm, a few trowels held close to your chest, and a sharp hand pruner held carefully in your left hand.

Boys.

You huffed as you headed for the shed. It was a crudely constructed building that was made in the first few weeks of the Glade’s existence. You’d heard some other boys say that the first Gladers originally slept here, but Newt hadn’t mentioned it so you weren’t sure how true that was. If they had slept there, you didn’t envy them. It was smaller than your room in the Homestead, which was a far cry from large. You supposed it was in a nice enough location, though; it stood on the edge of the Gardens, close enough to the woods to catch some shade, but not so deep that you were alone.

As you neared the shed, you saw that you actually weren’t alone. A figure paced next to it, head bent low, features hard to make out.

You purposely tried to walk louder as you came closer, hoping you wouldn’t scare him. At the sound of a twig crunching under your foot, his head shot up.

You’d definitely seen him before; he had thick, dark eyebrows and a strong jaw. The bruise forming under one of his eyes was new, as was his now crooked nose. You were pretty sure his name was Connor.

“Y/N,” he said, stilling in his tracks. He made no move to help you carry the tools.

You nodded, gave him a tight smile, and headed for the door. One of the rakes almost slipped from under your arm, but you squeezed it tightly and took a few hurried steps.

Connor crossed in front of you. You veered to the side. His arm shot out and grabbed your shoulder, hard enough to jostle it and send the rakes and hoe tumbling to the ground.

“You think you’re better than me or something?” He was speaking quickly, too quickly, you didn’t have a chance to respond or adjust the trowels that were slipping through your grasp or push him away. In one quick movement, he turned and slammed you into the shed wall. Two trowels dropped. You clutched the rest closer, your breaths turning into nervous pants.

“Is that why you don’t talk? You think you’re better than me? Than us?” Conor loomed over you. He glowered at you, his eyes afire with rage. “Answer me.” He slammed you back again. Your head cracked into the wall and you let out a soft whimper.

“So you can talk.” His grip was vice-like on your shoulders. His nails dug into your flesh like he wanted to tear you apart. “So why don’t you talk? Why don’t you fucking talk?” Again, he slammed you into the wall.

Were you crying? Were you talking? Were you making any noise at all?

Were you even breathing?

“You make this place even harder to be in. We don’t need some fucking mysterious mute bitch when we have to solve the Maze. Don’t you get it? You’re a distraction!” Every few words were punctuated with a slam. The air whooshed out of your lungs in a pathetic cry for help.

You’d never tried harder to talk.

But now there was so much fear in you. Not existential fear -- real, in-your-face danger.

One of Connor’s hands released your shoulder. It ached in relief until his fingers wrapped around your throat and he leaned in close to say, “Fine. Don’t talk.” And he squeezed.

Each second was an eon. Your lungs screamed for air. Blackness lingered on the edges of your vision, closing in, closing in, closing in, leaving only a pinprick of light. Your legs went numb, as if they’d just fallen asleep, and the feeling worked its way up your body, down your arms, to your hands, where the last trowel and the hand pruner were about to fall.

Hand pruner.

You had no more air, you had no more energy, and yet your body was moving and you were thrusting the sharp end of the hand pruner into Connor’s gut.

He let you go with a cry, curling over and holding his stomach. Air rushed into your lungs, only to leave a second later as you screamed, “Help!”

Connor groaned and straightened up enough to launch a clumsy fist at you. You twisted to the side. Your foot caught on a gardening tool, sending you sprawling to the ground, clambering away on hands and knees, still gasping for air.

A wet hand grabbed your ankle. You kicked, connecting with something solid, and yelled out, “Someone help!” The hand left your ankle for a second, then you heard something heavy moving in the grass, and the hand clamped down on your calf.

You tried to wriggle away. People were coming from the Gardens, you could see their black silhouettes as the sun set behind them. You heard your name, shouted by your rescuers and growled by Connor. You kicked at him again. His other hand caught your foot, using you to pull his body further onto your legs.

He was heavy. He slammed a fist into your back, knocking you flat.

“Get off of her!” Your rescuers closed in. They wrenched Connor off and surrounded him. Warm hands, soft hands, gentle hands, helped you stand. Connor’s blood rolled down the backs of your legs.

“Are you okay?” Newt asked, his voice frantic. He held you, his touch like feathers on your arms, as he scanned your body up and down, looking for any injuries. “Is that--” he started to ask, staring at your legs. Mid-sentence, Newt turned away, calling for a Med-jack.

“It’s not mine,” you interrupted him. The words were hoarse and quiet but audible, and Newt whipped back around to face you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

His touch slid down your arms, his hands enveloping your own. “I knew that was you yelling,” he said. His eyebrows lowered and his face grew serious. “I knew it was your voice. I knew it was you, love.”

Words hung on the tip of your tongue. Words you’d meant to say your first day in the Glade. Words you’d wanted to say every day since. Words that you could never get out. “Thank you,” you finally said.

Newt smiled, so wide and so bright that your heart started beating like you were sprinting. “I’ll always be here for you, love.”

The distance between the two of you was quickly fading. “I know you will,” you said, and then, again, “Thank you.” A second later, your lips met. And you felt like thanking him all over again.

[justkending]

Moral of the Story. Chapter 12.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N

Word Count: 5600+

A/N: Ya’ll have waited so patiently, and now it’s here. I hope I did it justice! Please let me know what you think as this was a chapter I was somewhat unsure of my writing...

Chapter Twelve:

The next morning came sooner than either was ready for. 

For the most part, yesterday was actually quite civil. They had a small argument, but eventually had a good conversation, caught up some, and in a domestic manner, they set up a time to have ‘the talk’.

But now the talk was here and both their nerves were shot. 

Y/N scheduled the talk later so she could sleep in and prepare herself for it, but who was she kidding? She wasn’t getting any sleep. 

She got up at 7 and decided to go for a jog in hopes it would clear her mind some. False, that didn’t happen. When she got back to the house, Sherri was already gone on shift and her father was out in the garage working on whatever project he had going at the time. 

So she went to the garden and decided she would snip some roses for a rose tea later. She was going to need the stress relief. Lucky for her, a bouquet of roses and other miscellaneous flowers were already wilting from a vase in the living room, so she plucked and chopped those for the tea and replaced them with the new ones she had cut. 

By then, it was only 8:30. She still had an hour and a half before she needed to be there and it was a 15 minute drive at most. 

She let out a groan as she grabbed her computer and decided to check her emails. Low and behold that kept her distracted as some of the people from the farmers market had reached out with questions. By the time she looked at the clock again, it was 9:30.

“Better early than late,” she sighed, grabbing her things and saying a quick bye to her dad before she took his spare car out.

Sure enough, she got there with 15 minutes to spare and sat in her car. Eventually, she made her way upstairs and knocked on the door.

Bucky opened it as if he had been standing by it the entire time. 

“Hey,” he smiled softly. 

“Hey,” she replied. 

“Um, come on in. I have some coffee brewing,” he moved out of the way and motioned in. 

Though she had been there once already thanks to the mishap Saturday, she hadn’t actually been inside the apartment. She had said her goodbyes to Steve outside the door. 

But inside, was not what she expected. Bucky was a pretty messy guy back in highschool. His room was always cluttered and nothing was ever organized. That was Y/N’s area. She would come over and organize his clothes and stuff voluntarily because she liked doing it and it was a stress relief. 

But this. This was closer to Y/N’s kind of living than highschool Bucky. There was a blanket ladder to the side where blankets were folded on it and cascading down in a neat manner. The coffee table had a small stack of books on it with a candle and small plant for decor. The furniture was mainly navy blue with accents or grey and leather kind of brown around the room. 

It was nice and clean. Oddly perfectly organized too. The remotes were in a calculated line next to each other and coasters stacked precisely. 

“Doesn’t look like I live here, does it?” Bucky laughed from the kitchen that opened up to the living room. “Teenage Bucky and 30 year old Buck are a little different. Military does that to ya.”

“I can see that,” she chuckled, moving into the room more and taking note of the full bookshelves framing the TV on both sides. “You have a whole library here.” She ran her fingers over the spinals and saw The Hobbit. “Not that I’m surprised,” she grinned at the specific book. 

Bucky used to read to her all the time. It was one of her favorite ways to spend time with him. It would always be when they just wanted to be around the other, but not necessarily do anything. He would always have a book on hand and pull it out and begin reading out loud while she cleaned, did crafts or homework, was in the garden, or even if she was just driving and he was so engrossed in it and he couldn’t put it down. 

“Yeah, well, you should see the guest room Steve’s staying in. That’s my actual library,” he chuckled, handing her a mug as he came into the room and stood by her. “I’m not sure if you still take your coffee the same way,” he said with a small smile.

“I do,” she smiled back, before kindly taking it and looking back at his collection. “You got quite the array of genres going on here.”

“I try to broaden my horizons where I’m comfortable,” he said, taking a sip and watching her as she scanned each book individually and moved to the next book shelf. 

“And where you’re not comfortable?” she countered, looking back at him with a mischievous smirk before going back to her investigating.

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lip. She still had that effect on him.

“Baby steps,” he answered. 

There was a silence as she perused the library and eventually moved to the window where he had a nice view of the neighborhood and the city off in the distance. 

“Chloe was headed to school this morning and told me her and Becca are helping with the prom committee this year.”

“Right, Bec mentioned something like that to me,” Bucky nodded, moving to one of the single chairs and sitting on the arm of it. 

 “Did they tell you the theme?” Y/N asked, turning back and holding the mug in both her hands as she took a sip.

“It’s a decade theme, right?” 

“Roaring 20’s. Quite original, huh?” Y/N laughed before moving and taking a seat at the couch across from him. 

“Wasn’t our Junior year one Great Gatsby theme?” Bucky chuckled. 

“No, it was 40’s theme, and thank God it got canceled, because I’m not too sure how you would do decorations for that,” Y/N said, crossing her legs. “I mean it was the start of WWI. How do you make that prom related?”

“Eh, I’m sure they would have gotten the decade details wrong anyway,” he shrugged. “What was our senior year?”

“Moulin Rouge. Loved it, but I’m surprised it was passed by the admin considering it was based on-”

“A play about a prostitute,” Bucky finished. “Great movie, but probably not the best theme for high school kids.”

“Eh, maybe 5% of the kids actually knew what it was about though.”

“That’s true.”

And now the awkward silence set in. The lingering wake that was their past was waiting at the door to be the next guest let in. But neither was quite ready to answer the knock. 

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Bucky breathed out eventually, looking down at his already half empty mug. 

“I don’t know either…” 

“We could just rip the bandaid off…”

“I feel like there’s more than just one bandaid, but that could just be my end,” she said blankly. 

Bucky noticed just a pinch of bitterness in her words and knew she was holding back to keep things civil. Screw it. Things were going to be ugly, so might as well jump the gun.

“Just say it Y/N,” he said with his eyes closed, preparing for the punch to the gut.

She didn’t say it right away like he had been expecting her to throw it in his face. Instead, he heard pure sadness with her next comment. 

“Why’d you kiss her Bucky?” 

When he looked up, it wasn’t anger. It wasn’t rage. It was heartbreak. 

He didn’t even realize he had moved close to her until he placed a hand on the couch that they both sat on now, and saw just how close to hers he was. But he was careful and didn’t close the gap. 

“Doll,” he breathed out, but nothing followed. 

“No, don’t drop those little pet names. I just want an answer,” she sniffled and stood up abruptly. Her resentment now surfacing like a coping mechanism. For one second. One second! She let it fall and she didn’t notice. Now, she was putting up the front. 

He knew how this went. She was like this thanks to her mother. Always having to be the protector of someone’s feelings because of how use she was to someone constantly trying to hurt hers or someone she cared about. 

He knew it was a front and it just took the right words and mannerisms to keep her from putting up her armor. It had just been so long since he was the one doing it.

“Just why? I just want to know why you took something we had since we were kids, and threw it out the window.” She now had her back turned toward him not showing her vulnerability, but he could hear the pain in her words. 

“Y/N, please look at me,” he begged, standing and staying behind her at a safe distance. 

“I can’t. I-I,” she sighed. He knew. She didn’t want him to see her cry. “Please just say why.”

He gave in.

“I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me,” he said in a breath. He got a scoff in response and he wasn’t surprised as this happened every time he tried to explain this to her.

“You’re going with that story again,” she let out a bitter laugh and finally turned.

She wasn’t crying yet, but her eyes had a small red rim to them and her lips always seemed to grow red too when she was on the brink of tears. 

“If you mean the truth, then yes,” he sassed back. 

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, moving back to the couch and getting situated again. This time crossing her legs and placing a throw pillow in her lap as she sat her coffee down. “I said I would be civil and give you a chance so please continue. Whether I like the story or not, I need to hear it.”

Bucky let out a soft groan before moving back to his side of the couch. The distance further now. 

“I was invited to my first college party by a guy in my chemistry class,” Bucky began.

______________

“It’s going to be a good one dude,” a guy named Darren smacked Bucky’s shoulder a little too hard and in an arrogant manner. “All the hot girls from that chem class will be there and a ton more.”

“Is it on campus?” Bucky asked, concerned. He’d done parties before, even college parties when he was in highschool, but he was anxious about getting caught after learning how intense campus security was. He could get kicked out of school for underage drinking and what not, and he worked really hard to get into this college. 

“No, it’s at one of the old frat alums' houses down on 15th. He’s got a sick house and pays for half the drinks he gives us,” Justin shook his head. “He definitely is still trying to be a college kid and that’s why he does it all. What a sad life…”

“Right, um. Well, I’ll see. I got a test coming up in another class, so-”

“Don’t be that loser. One party night isn’t going to kill you.” A group of loud boys walked by and Darren seemed to want to be a part of their clique and quickly took off. “Just text me if you want the address. I’ll send it your way when you decide to not be a prude.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the annoying classmate and went back to his dorm. Steve and him got matched with different people, but were lucky enough to be on the same floor. 

Bucky was busy going over some notes for his upcoming exam since his roommate was out and was relishing in the quiet. He looked down at his phone and noticed Y/N and him hadn’t talked much today. 

That wasn’t uncommon nowadays. With constant classes and college life, they texted here and there, but at night is when they would actually call and have long catch ups. 

It was getting close to 8 o’clock in New York, so that meant it was about 6 for her. She usually called within the next hour or so, but Bucky was debating on going to this party so he figured he call earlier. 

But when he called her phone, there was no answer. Strange. One more call and the same outcome. He decided to call her house she was renting by campus since her and her roommates had a landline. 

It rang a few times, and when it did get picked up, it wasn’t a woman's voice. No guys lived there, and from what Bucky knew, none of her roommates had a boyfriend. 

“Hello?” a voice sounded on the other end.

“Hello, who is this?” Bucky asked wearily. 

“Uh, this is Reed,” he responded. “Who’s this?”

Reed… Reed Richards.

Reed happened to be one of Y/N’s new guy friends at school. He was a nerdy little thing, and supposedly he was just a study buddy, but Bucky had gone to visit her a few times and the guy seemed to be smitten toward her. She seemed oblivious to it, but Bucky was now getting other ideas. 

“Reed, it’s Bucky,” Bucky gritted out. “Why are you at Y/N’s house?”

“Oh, hey Buck!” Reed said sweetly, clearly missing the envious tone of her husband. Yes, they were married at this point. “Um, I’m studying.” 

“Studying?” Bucky scoffed. “Where’s Y/N? Can I talk to her please?” 

“Um,” there was a pause as if he turned to look for her. “She can’t come to the phone right now.”

“Excuse me…”

“She’s indisposed at the moment,” he said almost nervously, and Bucky was seeing red.

“Reed, I’m going to need you to hand the phone to Y/N please,” Buck practically growled, but reeled it in not wanting to show he was as worked up as he was. 

“I really can’t do that,” Reed gulped. “Um, how about I have her call you back when she can. I’ll let her know!”

“Let me talk to her, Richards.”

“Gotta go. Sorry!” 

Like that, the phone hung up and Bucky pulled it back seeing the “Call Ended” pop up on his screen. Oh, he was pissed. He had a bad feeling about that Richards kid. He didn’t like the way he looked at Y/N. Like a love struck puppy. And said, love struck puppy, was fawning after a girl he couldn’t have. His girl.

Y/N was sweet about it, but oblivious like stated before. She had told Bucky he was over thinking it and he had nothing to worry about. She was Bucky’s and he was hers. No questions asked. 

And though Bucky knew this deep down, Y/N was someone a lot of guys wanted in a girlfriend. He had hit the jackpot and because of that, he always felt that there was slight competition for her. Even when there wasn’t. But the thought of other guys looking and wanting her, made him a jealous man. 

And jealous men do stupid things...

He tried calling Y/N again and no answer. 

He sat there bouncing his leg and running a hand through his hair for the hundredth time in the past minute. A few seconds later, Steve walked in with his roommate, Sam, behind him.

“Hey, Buck,” he said kindly before noticing his mood. “You have any plans tonight?”

Bucky snapped his head in his direction and a mischievous smirk appeared on his face. 

“Yeah, actually. How do you guys feel about a party?”

                                                      ____________

Maybe a party with a messy mindset wasn’t the best idea for Bucky. He tended to make rash decisions when he was upset about something and it never played out well for him. 

While at the party, he got a little more drunk than he was planning and didn’t notice that one girl there, Dolores, was all over him. He hadn’t been paying mind to her all night, but he also wasn’t trying to escape her either. 

She was in the chemistry class that Darren and him shared and now realized that she had a small crush on him. Ok, maybe not so small. She was being handsy which he had pushed her away, but at one point he was so drunk he hadn’t realized she had followed him home. 

He had somehow escaped Steve who noticed his disheveled state and was worried about him, but he was tired of being questioned and hovered over so he left. Clearly, not alone like he hoped he wanted.

He got back to his dorm housing, she kept thanking him for walking her home since she was the building over, but the whole time his mind wasn’t on her at all. He barely even heard her talking as they walked or even noticed that she had wrapped her arm through his and was leaning on him for support in her drunken mess as well. 

But once he reached the entrance of the building, he really really wanted to be alone and this leech was still on him. 

“Dolores,” he started, trying to blink away the alcohol that was slowly starting to turn into a headache. 

“Don’t be silly, Buck. I told you to call me Dot,” she giggled still attached to his arm. 

“Yeah, ok,” he brushed off. “Listen, I need to go call someone and you need to go home. I don’t know what ideas you’re getting, but-”

“Oh, I know, I just want to say thank you for walking me home,” she blushed, batting her eyelashes up at him. 

“Right,” he dragged out, confused since they were at his dorm building and not hers. “So, I’m going to go now…”

“M’kay,” she hummed before leaning up and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. 

He could taste the alcohol on her lips… Or maybe it was his lips. He couldn’t tell because of how disoriented he was. A part of him knew he was supposed to pull away, but the drunken part of him began to imagine Y/N’s lips and how much he missed them. He didn’t get to kiss them like he used to. They were halfway across the states now. It was a millisecond worth of kissing her back, not even realizing it wasn’t actually his wife.

“Bucky?” a soft and little voice came from behind them. 

Bucky quickly pulled away and spun in his spot at it. That was the voice he was trying to call earlier, but never heard. 

“Y/N?” he questioned with a tilt of his head, like a lost dog. Then it registered. Oh shit… “Y/N, wait!” 

“Who the hell is Y/N?” Dot said in a drunken manner as she slumped on him some. 

“His wife,” Y/N gritted out bitterly. “But how would you know he was married?” she huffed, looking down at his left hand seeing it bare. “Hard to tell when he’s not wearing a ring.” She let out a short breath out of her nose and her eyes began to gleam under the moonlight from the water pooling in them. She was quick to turn on her heels and start stomping the direction far away from the two. 

“Y/N stop!” Bucky reached out for her chasing after her, but he was stopped for a second as Dot latched onto his arm. 

“Where are you going?” she pouted. 

“Dot, let go of me and go home,” he said sternly before pulling away and running in a sloppy manner to Y/N.

He didn’t hear the protest behind him as his vision tunneled in on the one person he was worried about, who was practically in a jog with how fast she was walking. 

“Y/N, please stop!” he shouted trying to catch up with her. “Y/N!” Eventually, he caught her and wrapped a hand around her forearm. 

“Ow, let go of me!” she said yanking her arm away, but his grasp was too strong. 

“What you just saw is not what you think at all. I promise,” he pleaded with big doe eyes. His vision was still swimming. 

“Wow, what a cliche thing for you to say,” she rolled her eyes before tugging her arm again. “Seriously Bucky. Let me go,” she grunted. “You’re going to leave fucking bruises.”

He let go quickly at that and watched as she rubbed at her arm. He didn’t mean to hurt her. God, now he had done it twice in less than a minute of seeing her. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, moving in front of her and hovering a hand over her arm. “I-I didn’t mean to-”

“I don’t care. Just get out of my way,” she sniffled, angrily rubbing her arm before stepping to the side and trying to walk past him. He matched her step though and kept his hands out in defense showing he wasn’t going to touch her, but she also wasn’t leaving. “James-”

He hated when she called him that because it always meant she was angry or disappointed with him. 

“Please, please. You have to let me explain,” he begged, his eyes never leaving hers no matter how much she fought looking at him. 

“I’m not about to play out a romance movie with you where you cheat on me and we go back and forth about giving you a chance to explain yourself. This is reality. I know what I saw and I don’t need you to try and explain it,” she sobbed and ran a hand down her face trying to hide the tears that were working their way down her cheeks. 

“But it’s really not what you think you saw. She kissed me!”

“You didn’t pull away Bucky,” she countered. 

“I-I,” he stuttered. 

“You-You?” she mocked. “Yeah, see right there. That just proved to me I’m right,” she laughed in a not comical way. “Now move out of the way and let me go.” When she finally got around him, she began mumbling to herself. “God, and to think I booked a surprise visit for our anniversary and this is the surprise I get in return,” she said bitterly, new tears escaping.

Bucky heard it and once again ran back in front of her to keep her from moving anymore. 

“You came here to surprise me?” he asked. 

She scoffed again and popped her hip. “Yes, Bucky, I was trying to be a good wife and surprise you. We haven’t seen each other face to face in almost 2 months and I wanted to do something special.”

“I didn’t know-”

“Of course you didn’t. That’s what surprises are,” she sassed. “And clearly you didn’t even expect it because you had your little side hoe out in the open,” she said sharply. 

“She’s not a side hoe. I don’t have those,” Bucky replied in equal frustration at her not hearing him out. “I told you, she kissed me. I was walking her home from a party because she was drunk. She has a crush on me apparently, and kissed me when I told her to go home.”

Y/N looked at him and studied his features for lies. Even if he was telling the truth, the idea he didn’t pull back and actually kissed her back was what was hurting her. 

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is you didn’t stop it. You messed up, James. Accept it.” She shook her head in disappointment and gently pushed him to the side and started to walk away again. “Just give me some space.”

Not having a clear mind, Bucky shouted the next thing he thought in anger at her not believing him.

“Yeah, well, I hope you and Reed have a great time ‘studying’. He seems like a nice guy,” he shouted in spite. 

She turned slowly around and looked at him in disbelief. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“I called earlier tonight to talk to you, and that Richards kid picked up the phone.”

“Yeah, and?” she crossed her arms looking at him with a glare. 

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me. You don’t think I can’t see the longing looks he sends you?” Bucky said with a disgusted face as he walked toward her. 

“We’ve been over this. He doesn’t like me like that-”

“Bull shit!”

“Excuse me?!”

And here we have fire and fire playing a dangerous game ladies and gentlemen. 

“He’d take any chance to get you to himself. Which would explain that when I called he didn’t hand the phone over to you. Hell, for all I know, you two get all close and cuddly whenever I’m not there,” he said in a savage way. “But of course you wouldn’t notice that would you, Y/N? Cause you’re too naive to see those damn heart eyes he throws at you.”

Y/N took a step toward him and Bucky could see the rage burning in those Y/E/C orbs. If he wasn’t so wasted, he would have been smart enough to step back and learn that he was overstepping a boundary. 

“Are you seriously accusing me of cheating on you just because you got caught?” she scoffed. 

He didn’t respond but instead shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips. 

“You piece of shit bastard! You have one a hell of a nerve-”

“Do I? Or do you not like being called out?” he said, matching her step, the two now nose to nose practically. 

She shook her head and let out a bitter laugh before looking back into his eyes. 

“You wanna know why he wouldn’t let me talk? I was outside packing a cab to leave for the airport. He was covering for me because he knew I was surprising you,” she began. “He actually helped me plan the trip and got me a good deal because his family friend is a pilot and pulled some strings. I wasn’t going to be able to do it without him due to money crunches, but he was nice enough to help me out so I could visit you after 2 months of not seeing each other. So no. You’re not calling me out on anything because your facts are askew.”

Bucky deflated at that some. Shit. He just dug himself into a bigger hole.

“And you know what? He told me you called. I tried calling you back and you didn’t answer. Even tried calling you when I landed and no answer there either. So you can understand why I don’t want to stand here and listen to your excuses after I got a cab and drove all the way to campus to surprise you at your dorm, but instead see you making out with another girl!”

Again, no answer. Bucky’s eyes were just wide in disbelief. How the hell could he have messed this us up so bad?

“What? Out of comebacks now?” she mocked. He didn’t respond and she saw that she successfully put out the fire in his eyes. Nothing but lingering smoke left over from being drowned in realization. “Great. In that case, I’m headed home.”

She turned on her heel and though Bucky should and would have ran after her once again, he was glued to his spot. So many things just went down the drain...

______________

Present Time

“I know how the story goes,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the memory she hated revisiting. “My question was why? Why did you kiss her back?”

“Because I was jealous and I was thinking of you,” Bucky shouted without looking at her. 

“What?” she said softly after a second.

“I went to the party cause I was upset about Reed and the phone call, and I was drunk off my ass when she kissed me, and I imagined you. It had been too long since I saw you and when she kissed me, I was picturing you,” he explained, letting out a breath. 

“But it wasn’t me Bucky…”

“I know. My brain even knew, but I wasn’t in the right mind…”

“And the accusation about Reed?”

“Like I said, I was jealous,” he mumbled. 

The two were on other sides of the couch. Bucky with his head hung low in guilt and Y/N staring at him intently. 

“Did you really think I would do something like that to you though? Throw all of our time spent knowing and loving each other because a guy may or may not have had a crush on me?” she questioned, finally getting him to raise his head. 

“He definitely had a crush on you,” Bucky pouted. 

“Again, even if he did, you think I would just up and leave, God forbid cheat on you, with some guy I knew for maybe 6 months?” Y/N rubbed her temple. 

“Well, no…” he finally came to the conclusion of. 

“Then why Bucky? Why did you even feed yourself that kind of misinformation?” she sighed. 

“I-I don’t know,” he answered. “I still haven’t forgiven myself of it to this day. I hate myself for why I sabotage our relationship like that.”

“Was it something I could have prevented? Did I not show you I loved you enough?” she said saddened and putting some of the guilt on her. 

“Did you think that after all these years, that you didn’t give me enough?” Bucky asked, shocked and moving just an inch forward in his seat.

“I mean after some time, you start to wonder if it’s something you did wrong,” she shook her head in embarrassment.

“Can I be honest?” he asked, deciding to close the gap and sit to where their knees were touching. 

“I would hope so,” she replied. 

“Don’t hate me for what I’m about to say,” he warned, but cut her off from what he knew would be sassing him. “I think we were both young and weren't ready or matured enough for marriage. We thought it was the mandatory next step in our life and we rushed it.” He paused looking at her as she fiddled with a string on the pillow in her lap.

“College is the time people find themselves and new pieces of their personality and life, and we were trying to force a very important part of a relationship between two people who didn’t even really know who they were yet. Then you add in almost 2,000 miles apart too... And well... ”

“People don’t change that drastically,” Y/N said quietly. 

“No, they don’t. Clearly you still have your hard head,” he noted and got a glare from her which was his intention. “And clearly I still never handle a situation well with a foggy mindset. Guess some things people don’t really grow out of,” he winked, getting a laugh out of her. “What I’m saying is, we shouldn’t be angry at ourselves for breaking it off in the end. Now, with how we handled it, yeah. That was bad.”

“Very bad,” she agreed. 

“But I’ve come to believe that things happen for a reason, and life likes to play out in funny ways.” He carefully and slowly placed a hand on top of her own and silently asked her to look at him, which she did. “I have to admit, I do miss my best friend after all these years. And it’s been quite the impressive journey to see what you’ve done for yourself after all this time.”

“You’ve done some pretty impressive things too, Bucky,” she said back. 

He froze. She called him Bucky. 

“Y-You called me Bucky,” he said, looking back and forth between her eyes. 

“Yeah, it is your name,” she chuckled awkwardly, noticing her slip up. 

“Not coming from you,” he said. “At least since that night.”

“Listen, I’m not happy about how this is still a thing from our past,” she sighed, straightening. “But it’s there and there’s no changing it. It’s impossible.”

“If I could go back and change it, I would in a heartbeat. I never wanted to hurt you like that,” Bucky shook his head. 

“I believe you,” she said after a minute. Bucky sat stunned by that. “But lingering on this has done nothing but hurt me. And now I’m old enough to accept the fact that, though it was a shitty thing to happen, it wasn’t truly your fault...”

Bucky froze as he could tell she was moving on... At least he hoped that’s what she was hinting at. 

“So, well…” she paused, lightly squeezing his hand that encased hers. “I think I’m ready to move on from our petty teenage miscommunication.”

“Wait, really?” he was shocked and squeezed her hand without noticing. 

“Hey easy muscleman,” she chided pinching his hand back. “I’m still not happy about the whole kiss thing, but I at least know your thought process behind it and realize it was a mistake.” He grinned really wide and couldn’t believe what was happening. “A really big mistake.”

“A really stupid and naive mistake. There’s no denying that,” he shook his head. “Does this mean we can be friends again?” he asked hopefully. 

It took her a second as she weighed her thoughts. 

It wasn’t something she could ever see herself forgiving him 100%, but she also realized that it wasn’t at all what she thought it was. Clearly, the girl had thrown herself at him and clearly he was taken advantage of as he was not in the right mindset to know what was happening. 

He even admitted that he had kissed her back because he pictured Y/N in the moment. His brain was too clouded by alcohol to layout the actual mess that was happening. Still, it wasn’t an excuse, but he really was pretty innocent in the manner. That, and he accepted his wrongs.

“Yes, we can be friends again,” she nodded.

It took but two seconds before he had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. 

“I missed you so much, Everest,” he mumbled into her hair.

“I can tell,” she squeaked at the tight hold he had on her. “And honestly, I’ve missed you too. Even if I’ve been trying to lie to myself and say I didn’t.”

Tags are closed for this series. Please turn on notifications if you would like updates:)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley​ @ximaginx​ @vicmc624​ @leyannrae​ @lonerlovescompany​ @jessyballet​ @angstysebfan​ @tita127​ @semistablecentenarian​ @im-a-light-child​ @alyssahowden​ @studiesinspanish​ @natyvwe​ @rebekahdawkins​ @fanfictionjunkie1112​ @millennial-teenybopper​ @scotlandasshole​ @aquariusbarnes​ @shinykoalacat​ @wayward-river​ @buckyswillows​ @natdrunk​ @caxtainamerica @iloveangstposts​ @fanngirl19​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @lizzymacy555​  @srrymydood​​ @xa-dia​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​ @morganclaire4​​ @connie326​​ @captain-asguard​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​ @teenagedreams-bucky​​ @shower-me-with-roses​​ @livstilinski​​ @basicallylool​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose  @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please​ @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu

[sehunniepotwrites]

sakura kiss | n.yt

PART III OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION

🌸 synopsis—the four times you noticed yuta’s love for flowers and the one time you realized it was not the flowers he was in love with

🌸 genre—  would you be so kind? universe ; hanahaki!au, university!au, flower shop!au, angst, romance, slight fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers!au 🌸 pairing— art student/florist!yuta x art student!reader (f) 🌸 word count— 9000+

🌸 warnings — cursing; mentions of coughing, vomiting, hospital visits, death (no one dies!!), two idiots in love

🌸 author’s note—so i finished a fic with my favorite trope in time for my birthday today (dec 11th) and i’m posting to celebrate! it all started with this tweet that said yuta used to work at a flower shop and enjoyed drawing the plants during his free time! 

this was a fun write and it takes place in the same verse as wybsk, which is linked above! you can read sakura kiss as a stand alone or after wybsk to get a better understanding of two scenes! to those you came from my mark fic, i gave yn a name (kira)!

but here she is! enjoy and be sure to tell me what you think!! i love feedback uwu

Nakamoto Yuta, you noticed, was an unusual fellow. He was your senior in the art department, a fourth-year preparing for his graduation while you were a couple of semesters behind him. Other than his small circle of friends, the foreign exchange student kept to himself, burying his handsome face in his sketchbook. You had classes together before but those were large lectures with over fifty students in the room— this was the first time you shared a small studio lab with him.

Barely interacting with him in the past, you were determined to change that no matter how intimidating Yuta was.

Were you intimidated by his extremely good looks or his unmatched talents in the fine arts? Both. Definitely both. He turned heads without fail and when he smiled, oh my god, you thought he was the sun. Yuta was pretty, beyond pretty even, with his striking face, brown eyes, and perfect body proportions. 

To add on top of his perfection, his art style was immaculate. The artist never failed to steal your breath away with a couple of strokes and a swipe of his blessed hand. Anything he touched turned to gold. Never sharing those thoughts with him in the past, you made a firm decision to tell your senior this coming semester.

Yuta sat at the easel next to you, barely two feet away from your station. His sketchbook and drawing utensils were already splayed out on the holder. He was fiddling with his phone to pass the time, his painted nails rapidly hitting his touchscreen. How did Yuta make something so mundane as checking his phone look so ethereal? The inner most thoughts in your head cursed whatever beings lived in the beyond for not endowing you with such looks. 

You gulped, gathering up the courage to talk to him. “Hey,” you greeted shyly. 

Hey? That was the best you could do?

Yuta turned towards you, gaze shifting away from his phone. “Hey,” he said back with a slight curve of the lip. 

“I don’t know if you remember me but we had a couple of classes together last semester,” you forced yourself to say with an awkward smile.

He grinned and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Yeah, no, of course, I remember you.” Your name slips from his mouth, causing your awkward smile to turn into a genuine one. His tone is kind and his voice is low, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried your best to keep the conversation going, wanting to finally compliment him on his work but your professor entered the room and called for everyone’s attention. He handed out the syllabus to a student upfront and around the papers went, signifying the start of your first class. Yuta shot you an apologetic look, conveying that you could always continue the conversation later. 

The overview of the course’s syllabus was always the boring part of the first days. Your eyes glazed over, still not fully awake from rising early, and you tried to shake the sleepiness away. Stealing a glance at Yuta, you almost laughed at how his easel was angled in a way to hide that he wasn’t paying any attention. His syllabus outline was discarded off to the side and Yuta’s hands were moving rapidly, sketching out a large tree in full bloom in a page of his notebook.

It looked like flower petals raining from the branches and a person leaning against the tree trunk, hiding underneath the shade. His sketching speed and quality amazed you— how exactly did he sketch that fast and that beautifully?

You made sure your professor wasn’t looking in your direction before nudging Yuta’s side to grab his attention. He snapped out of his drawing daze and turned to you with widened eyes. A red seeped into his ears and pale cheeks, but you missed it completely, eyes zoned in on his quick draw.

“Hm?”

“That’s really good,” you whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck at your compliment. “It’s just a quick sketch,” Yuta tried to play it off. He was never one to take compliments so well.

You leaned over to get a closer look. Noticing you almost falling off your stool, Yuta shifted his easel slightly closer to yours. “Is that a cherry blossom tree?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot.”

“Do they remind you of home?” you asked. You couldn’t imagine being an exchange student in a foreign country— you would miss home too much.

“Yeah but that’s not really the reason why I’m drawing them,” he replied. His eyes shifted to a look of pain or discomfort as if he was reminded of a scarring memory. You watched him closely to make sure he was okay. He cleared his throat before letting out a couple of concealed coughs, face digging into his shoulder. 

“You alright, Nakamoto?” You were too embarrassed to call him by his first name.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little cough.” Yuta gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “And you can just call me Yuta, you know?”

“Right, noted,” the name felt so foreign on your tongue. 

“I have cough drops in my bag if you want some,” you offered, already reaching down to grab your backpack. He quickly dismissed you, telling you it wasn’t necessary. 

Continuing to watch him sketch, you admired the way Yuta fussed over the smallest details— the lining, the shading, etc. It was nothing more than a simple sketch but if it was gifted to you, it would be framed and hung for the world to see. 

He really was an artistic genius. 

“Cherry blossoms are my favorite flowers,” you said.

You were too absorbed in his drawing to hear him mutter, “I know.”

“You say something?” 

Yuta cleared his throat again with a pained expression. His hand held his neck for a second before shaking his head. “I said, they used to be mine too.”

Huh, you never really picked him as the flower loving type. 

—🌸—

This was the third time Nakamoto Yuta had flowers growing in his chest and he hated it. 

It was less painful the first two times around, probably because they were nothing more than fleeting crushes. He was in high school then, wholly infatuated with two different students during those years. Yuta followed them around like a lovesick puppy, all smiles and waiting on their hands and feet. He coughed a couple of petals out and it caused some uneasiness, but after being rejected harshly, Yuta pushed himself to move on. 

The pain of high school rejection could never compare to the dull ache he was feeling as he looked at you. There you were, the person he secretly admired for the past two semesters, merely two feet away at your own easel. 

You looked so in your element, eyebrows knitted and pencil in hand as you sketched away. A sight so captivating, Yuta almost forgot to breathe. Being an artist himself, he wanted to preserve that image on a canvas but he didn’t think his hand could do you justice. No pencil sketch, no painted canvas, no marble or clay sculpture could even compare to you. 

This was more than puppy love. More than infatuation. Yuta was sure of it but how was he to let you know? You barely knew each other and a confession out of nowhere wouldn’t be the best way to get acquainted. 

Perhaps another time, he thought to himself, before turning back to his sketch. 

You would’ve never guessed that Yuta Nakamoto had a thing for flowers but he did.

Then again, you didn’t really know what he had a thing for to begin with— your friendship just started to bloom. It was like a bud barely opening under the sunlight; with each interaction, there was something new you learned about the quiet yet charismatic art major. 

You knew he was a Japanese exchange student that majored in art, that was a given. You recently learned he loved cherry blossoms and that watercolor was his favorite art medium yet you still wanted to learn more. 

The first time you ran into him outside of class was in the university library. Yuta sat at one of the tables, his space surrounded by books on flowers. There were books on the language, arrangements, and gardening tips. His face was deep into his sketchbook once again, back bent over the desk but his focused eyes darted back and forth between his drawing and his page of reference. 

Yuta didn’t even notice as you hovered over him, debating on whether you should say hi. Even with your shadow casting over his body, his deep concentration never faltered. 

His page was filled with various plants and flowers, little notes in a messy scrawl right under their pictures. He was currently drawing cherry blossoms, the page he was referring to showcasing the anatomy of the famous flower.

“Cherry blossoms again, Yuta?” you broke the silence.

Your voice startled him, causing his pencil to slip from the artist’s grip. It made an accidental mark and you whispered an apology as he clicked his tongue. 

“Don’t worry about it, nothing an eraser can’t fix,” Yuta reassured you as he rid his paper of the unwanted mark. He blew the eraser bits of his page, hand sweeping his surface clean. He offered you the seat next to him and you gladly took it.

“So, why are you always sketching flowers?” you posed as your hand gestured to all the books he had on his person. 

“They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” he answered with another question. He gave you a cheeky little grin, his lips widening to show off his beautiful pearly whites.

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s a shame they die so easily,” Yuta said, fingers running over his sketches. “Beautiful but fleeting.”

“But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

You hummed at his answer. “You’re really passionate about flowers, aren’t you?” 

“Something like that. I actually work at a flower shop nearby, maybe you’ve seen it?” Yuta fiddled with the front pocket of his backpack to pull out a business card. “I like learning about the meanings to help the customers in the shop, amongst other things.”

You took the card from his grip, examining it. For You in Full Bloom was printed largely on the thin piece of cardboard. Staring at the name, you wondered why it sounded so familiar until it hit you.

“Oh, I pass by it everyday while walking to campus! I live two blocks away from the shop.” Your smile grew wider and he smiled back for a second before his face contorted into one that conveyed pain.

Yuta turned away from you to cough into his hand, his free one hastily digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to cough into that. Shocked by his sudden sick fit, you quickly patted him on the back, hoping it would help him hack out whatever was lodged in his throat.

You saw him peek into the small square of fabric and wince at whatever it caught. He cleared his throat before turning back to you. “Sorry,” Yuta muttered, rubbing the front of his neck to soothe it. Placing a cough drop in his hand, he took it without complaint and popped it in his mouth. The relieved sigh he let out made you feel slightly less worried. 

“You’re still sick?” you frowned. “You should really get that checked out, you know?”

He waved you off, “It’s nothing serious, I swear. What were we talking about again?”

“Cherry blossoms?”

“Your favorite flower.”

“And yours,” you added.

He hummed, “And mine.” There was a solemn tone behind his words but before you could press on the subject, he coughed again.

“Did you know that they’re also a symbol of renewal?”

Shaking your head, you urged your classmate to continue.

“Cherry blossoms hold the bittersweet meaning of life and death but they also bring the message of new beginnings.”

—🌸—

Yuta just wished when it came to you and him, the flowers meant the start of something new but no— instead, they just reminded him of the ache in his chest. 

They reminded Yuta of how alive he was but also how he was one step closer to his grave. 

Yes, you were merely classmates but he felt like he knew you solely from all the stories that were shared by your mutual friends in the art department. Ten and Taeyong sang praises on how thoughtful you were, always helping professors clean their studios after hours. Sicheng brought up how passionate you were about your major— Yuta himself bore witness to this many times during lectures and he wanted to know more about you. 

A lot of charm filled your figure and it was enchanting, it really wasn’t that hard for him to fall. 

Yuta fell for you much like the blossoms from the cherry trees. 

And just like the blossoms, his time was fleeting but you were so completely unaware.

You left the library first, having forgotten that you had office hours with a professor. He watched you leave, eyes fixed onto your back.

Someone once said that you become miserable if you love someone too much. Yuta believed that to be true. There was a pang in his chest, heart racing against his rib cage as a stronger nausea attack hit him. 

He gasped for air as his weakened stomach turned with sickness. Something was rising, working its way up his body. Yuta quickly slapped his hand over his lips as he hurled. Instead of bile, cherry blossom petals rained out of his mouth and into his palm.

He chuckled under his breath. Was it sad that he found beauty in his suffering? 

Yuta thought himself to be crazy as he quickly shoved away the pain to begin sketching the petals in his hand.

For You in Full Bloom— what a nice name, you thought to yourself as you entered the shop with your friend Sicheng right behind you. The light ringing of the bell attached to the front entrance alerted the people at the counter of your presence. You picked up on harsh whispers before the tall male worker rushed to the back, forcing the young girl to assist you.

“Hi, welcome in!” the girl smiled brightly at you. “How can I help you today?”

Before you could reply, Sicheng stepped forward to answer, “Kira, we’re looking for Yuta— is he here?”

“Oh, Sicheng, hey! I didn’t even see you,” Kira exclaimed. “He’s, uh, not here right now.” Kira shot Sicheng a frustrated look, eyes darting to the back. Your companion sighed, done with his friend’s stupidity. You missed the quiet interaction, being too preoccupied with your surroundings. 

“We’ll catch him another time then,” you answered her.

The small and quaint store was filled to the brim with flowers and your hands ghosted against the magnificent displays in the front window. The petals felt soft and the pleasing smells overwhelmed your senses in a good way. There was beauty all around you— there was no wonder why people loved visiting flower shops.

Various watercolor pieces were framed on the wall and you examined every artwork displayed. They were simple paintings of the plants that found a temporary home in the store. Some pieces were the flowers by themselves and others were of the many arrangements offered. They were vibrant, bright, and so incredibly detailed.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she paused to ask for your name. You replied with a smile before turning back to take in the art. 

“The paintings are a nice touch,” you commented, finally turning to look at her. 

“Oh those? Yuta painted them,” Kira grinned, her body straightening up with pride. “He paints a lot when the shop is slow and my mom, the owner, loves to hang them up.”

“I should’ve known.” You took a closer look and spotted Yuta’s signature at the bottom of every picture.

“He’s very talented, isn’t he?” Kira hummed. Sicheng snorted for some unknown reason and you slapped his shoulder in response. There was nothing funny about Yuta’s skills and he knew that.

“Yeah, his skill is unmatched. I admire him for that.” 

“Have you ever told him that?”

“God, no!”

“Why not?” Kira pressed. Sicheng joined in on the pressing and you moaned, an embarrassing heat creeping up your face,

“I don’t know. We talk but I find him to be a little intimidating,” you leaned against Sicheng’s shoulder and looped your arm through his. “I can’t just go up to him and fangirl over his work, can I?”

“But you want to,” he groaned. “And I’m tired of hearing you go on about it. Just tell him.” 

A whine left your lips and you pinched your friend’s arm at the comment. He yelped and Kira just watched as the bickering continued. 

“Yuta looks intimidating, yeah, but it’s just his resting bitch face, I promise. He’s just a softie,” Kira laughed and Sicheng agreed. “You should definitely tell him. He would love hearing it, especially from you.”

There was this knowing smile on both of their lips and it just seemed like they knew something you didn’t. You tugged on Sicheng’s arm as an attempt to ask him the florist meant by the last bit of her sentence and he tried to shrug you away.  You just clung on tighter to your friend with a playful smile with Kira keeping a close eye on you.

You heard a cough come from the back of the store, causing both Sicheng and Kira to look up with concern. The coughing fit grew louder and louder, leaving Kira to excuse herself for a bit. 

“If the other florist is sick, they should be at home resting,” you tutted with a frown. 

“Some people are stubborn,” Sicheng threw back with a bit of distaste. Picking up on your friend’s bitterness, you wondered why he felt so strongly about it. You waved it off when a small display of sunflowers and red roses together captured your attention. Holding it in your hands, you admired how the two vibrant colors compliment each other.

Kira swung her way around the counter, “You like that bouquet?”

“It would be really pretty to paint,” you say, still spinning it around in awe. 

“Yuta put it together himself yesterday, he’s pretty good at arrangements,” the florist beamed.

“What can’t he do?” you scoffed.

“Apparently, open his mouth and say what he needs to say,” Sicheng muttered beside you. Kira elbowed his stomach and he lurched over in pain. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” Kira laughed nervously. She worked her way to you and gestured towards the flowers, “It’s yours, on the house.”

You rejected the offer right away. “Oh no, I couldn’t,” is what you reply, attempting to shove the arrangement into her hands. With a kind grin, she persisted for you to take it and just asked you to buy from them the next time you visited. “I’m sure Yuta would love it if you took this one off our hands.”

With a promise, you hesitantly accepted the bouquet. Sicheng was snickering in the background and you had to hold yourself back from whacking him with the flowers. Thinking you’d taken too much of the florist’s time, you quickly said your thanks and headed out the door with a coy Sicheng trailing behind you.

—🌸—

“They’re gone,” Kira yelled towards the back of the shop. Yuta made his way back to his spot at the cash register while wiping at his mouth with his uniform sleeve. He quickly pulled out his art supplies from underneath the counter, setting everything up to resume his painting. Taking a seat on the stool, his body was slumped over his makeshift desk as he messed with his pencils. 

His coworker rolled her eyes at him as she began to work on a bouquet of blue cornflowers and daisies— good fortune and new beginnings. Her nimble hands hastily worked their magic with ease as if she’s done it a million times before. Yuta observed her, quickly sketching her hands at work. 

“You’re ridiculous, I don’t get why you had to hide.” 

“I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Yuta said, his pained eyes covered by the long bangs that drooped down over his sketchbook. 

“Like what?” Her hands went to her hips. “Sick and hopelessly in love?”

“Yeah, let’s put it that way.”

“There’s a solution to this, you know,” Kira pressed with furrowed brows. “You don’t have to keep suffering.”

This. Hanahaki is what she meant— the disease of unrequited love.

“I’m fine, Kira,” Yuta hissed with a bit more annoyance than he intended to. She flinched at the tone but still pushed on when he coughed again. He felt the discomfort of something being lodged in his throat and his body had the urge to hack it out. Suddenly, he was leaning over the counter with cherry blossom petals littering the cash register. 

Yuta practically hacked up a storm, body curling in pain. One hand was clutching his stomach while the other had a death grip on the edge of the counter. The dizziness returned and he felt lightheaded as the retching subsided. A weakness took over his athletic body and Kira rushed to assist him back onto the stool. There was a bottle of soothing eucalyptus oil sitting right on the counter and she scrambled to open it before shoving it under his nose. 

“You’re obviously not fine. You need to go to the hospital to get checked,” she said as Yuta took the small bottle from her grip. He dabbed a couple of drops onto his hands and rubbed it on his nose and throat. “Why won’t you accept any help that’s offered to you at the hospital?”

“I’ve gone through this before, Kira. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sometimes you forget I’ve gone through this, too!” she yelled. “I don’t want you to end up on your deathbed like I was at one point.” 

Yuta couldn’t argue with that. He was hired back when she was in the hospital recovering from the final stage of the dreaded disease. 

“We’re all worried about you here. Mom, Jongin, Mark? And your friends— Sicheng, Ten, and Taeyong? We all hate seeing you like this!” her voice grew louder and louder with each word, causing him to flinch at the shrill tone. Deafening noises plus nausea and headaches never meshed well with him.

“You don’t see how much it hurts seeing someone you care about suffer like this, Yuta. It hurts even more when we can’t do anything to help you go through this.”

Silence filled the room.

“Have you seen Dr. Kim lately?” Dr. Junmyeon Kim was the Hanahaki specialist that Kira recommended. He eased her back into normalcy after her scare.

“I will soon, I promise,” he said through haggard breaths. She guided him through a couple of breathing exercises and it calmed his racing heart down. 

Kira sighed. With a quieter tone, she said, “It’s a shame the world made us experience heartbreak this way, isn’t it?”

Yuta smiled sadly at her— it was a shame.

The front door of the shop opened and the bell rang. They both turned to see Kira’s boyfriend Mark walk in with a cute grin. He clumsily hopped over the counter to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Well, at least you got your happy ending,” he muttered too low for his coworker to hear. 

Yuta knew there was a chance of having it too, he was just too afraid to speak. 

If one were to look at him at that moment, his features hid nothing. Nakamoto Yuta was slowly ripping at the seams with the sakura branches poking their way out of his built figure and although multiple options were given to him, he still felt so unbelievably helpless.

It was the middle of the semester when you caught Yuta wandering the halls of the main art building. A grin found its way to your lips as you saw him with his messenger bag and a tubed container slung over his shoulder. Running to catch up with him, you slipped your arm into his free one. Your classmate yelped at the sudden contact and you let out a loud giggled that echoed in the empty hallway.

You finally felt close enough to initiate contact after sharing supplies with him during one studio session. That being said, it didn’t mean you were comfortable with revealing the feelings you harbored towards him— you wanted to keep that a secret for a little bit longer. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have classes in here today,” you asked.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Yuta sighed. You felt your heart drop at his words but you played it off with a scrunch of the nose and a teasing tone. 

“Were you expecting someone else, Nakamoto?” you nudged his stomach and he avoided it, already predicting your actions. Yuta held back another series of coughs, quick turning away from you to cough into the handkerchief always kept on hand. He looked in pain as he continued to hack into the small piece of cloth and you brought a comforting hand to rub at his back.

“Every time I see you, you’re coughing,” you frowned. “You really need to get yourself checked, it’s been months.”

“No, no, I promise you I’m fine,” he replied with the shake of the head, his dark hair moving along with him. Even when ruffled and out of sorts, he looked good. He attempted to clear his throat by downing some water. 

Your lips pursed at his words, not satisfied with his dismissive answer. “If you say so. Promise me you’ll see someone if it gets worse though.”

He agreed but you suspected it was to stop you from nagging. “To answer your question before you went all mom on me, I was here to talk to the department about my senior project.”

“Have you decided on your theme for your exhibit yet?” 

Yuta smiled wistfully, “Flowers.” 

“Should’ve known— it’s always flowers with you. It’s like you’re in love with them or something.” 

He let out a scoff at your words. When you shot him a questioning look, he dismissed the act completely. 

Time spent with Yuta always passed so quickly; one moment you were on the top floor of the building and the next, you were already at the bottom of the staircase. Ever the gentleman, he held the front door open for you and you thanked him with a smile. His brown eyes shrunk into little slits and whiskers appeared at the corners as he grinned back with a little chuckle.

How you longed to sketch that image.

A strong breeze blew through, causing a couple of leaves and fallen petals to fly around your figures. You crossed your arms around your front to keep the cold from seeping in and shut your eyes to keep debris out. Peeking at Yuta, you saw him cover his eyes with a calloused hand and he gently pushed you behind him to use his body as a makeshift shield. As soon as the breeze stopped, his grip on your arm loosened but the grip he had on your heart was still as strong as ever.

He whirled around to make sure you were alright and next thing you knew, his hand was lingering above your head. “You have something in your hair, do you want me to take it out?” 

Yuta looked down at you with cautious eyes and you just noticed how close you were. Heat radiated off his body and your cheeks as you nod in approval. One dry hand moved to delicately clutch the side of your head as the other plucked a leaf out of your hair. 

Your breath hitched as his fingers ran against your skin and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. There was a sudden pounding in your ears that matched the drumming rhythm of your heart.

“There,” he whispered as he let you go. With a smile, Yuta added, “good as new and pretty as a picture.” 

“Pretty enough to paint?” you fired back with sarcasm.

“Definitely worthy of being displayed for the world to see,” he winked.

Was he flirting? It seemed like he was. 

Maybe, Sicheng was right— Yuta could have feelings for you. But it could also just be wishful thinking.

Were you flirting? Is this how flirting works? 

“Speaking of displays,” Yuta started nervously as he walked you to your car. He slowed down his walking pace and you easily matched it, your steps moving in time with his. The main walkway on campus was devoid of people, seeing how it was later in the school day. The path from the art building to the lot you parked in was short and you wished there was some way to extend it so you could spend more time with him.

“Will you, uh, come to my show?” he asked, his hand scratching the back of his head. His hair flopped with the wind and his unsure grin made him look so incredibly endearing. “I know it’s still too early to give you a set date but I’d love to see you there.”

“What? Of course I’ll come!” you said, stopping to slap his arm. 

He winced at the contact. “Ow?”

“I would’ve gone even if you didn’t ask me,” you proceeded on the path with a smile. “I have to go and support my friends.”

There was a coughing fit coming from behind you and you whirled around to see Yuta hacking into his handkerchief again. It looked more painful than the last attack he had a few minutes ago. His breathing was shallow and he clutched his chest as the coughs continued. 

“Oh my god, Yuta!” You were pretty sure you heard him gag as you rubbed his back. “Okay, I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re clearly not alright.”

He lifted a hand to tell you to stop. “No, no. I’m fine. I just—I gotta go,” was all he said with his hoarse voice before jolting away.

Staring at his strong back as grew smaller and smaller, you almost missed the fallen piece of cloth on the ground. Keyword: almost.

“Wait, Yuta!” you shouted, bending down to pick it up. “You dropped your hanke—” As soon as you lifted the handkerchief, perfectly preserved cherry blossom petals fell out of its hold. They rained towards the ground, decorating the sidewalk with the prettiest shade of pink.

Yuta was long forgotten. You were too lost in your confusion of the flowers. 

“Cherry blossoms?” you asked yourself. “They’re not in season yet.”

—🌸—

Yuta heard you calling for him but he refused to turn around. He pushed himself to keep running despite the tight pain in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he sent quick text messages to Sicheng and Kira with his location, asking them to stop by and help him. The disorientation hit faster this time, causing him to tumble into a bench. He gripped the iron lining as he hurled and for the first time, it was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes. His mouth trembled as he let out a cry.

Yuta tasted the bit of blood that poured out of his lips. 

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Yuta ignored how the crimson stained the fabric. A butter chuckle escaped him. 

“Pink goes good with red,” he whispered to himself as another stinging pain made its way up his body. 

He felt the branches slowly poking his lungs, climbing a path up his chest. It was just as Kira described— it was piercing like a sharp arrow to the heart. The arrow pressed and pressed and pressed until he was exploding with petals, blood, sweat, and tears.  It was aimed to kill. He thought arrows to the heart were supposed to fill him with love, not a heart-wrenching pain that tempted him to rip the beating organ out of his chest.

This was all too much to bear.

The full flowers and the scratching of wood tickling his throat. 

The lack of oxygen and struggle for air.

He felt it all. He wished he didn’t. 

Yuta wished he was one of the people that found their soulmate with that ridiculous red string of fate tied to the end of his pinky. They were blessed with a lifetime of happiness while he was cursed with what felt like an eternity of agony that his weakening body could no longer withstand. 

Yuta knew you didn’t love him but he adored you anyway. 

This wasn’t a shoujo manga, Yuta knew that. This was real life. No one was going to kiss, kiss, fall in love with the blink of an eye.

Picking petals off of flowers wouldn’t solve his problem. He wished it did, though.

If only it was that easy.

The rest of the semester flew by quickly with midterms and mid-semester projects keeping you at bay. You barely saw Yuta, yet alone the rest of your friends, if not for your classes. All of you shared the same appearance: dark circles, eye bags, sunken cheeks, hunched backs, and glazed over eyes. Your group survived the weeks with a crazy amount of caffeine and not enough food.

 With the school year finally over and graduation season starting, that meant one thing for the college of fine arts at your university— exhibitions. The music and dance departments already had their concerts and showcases. Final showings of the theatre department’s newest production just wrapped up yesterday; the only thing left were the senior art exhibits.

Dressed to the nines and not at all like a struggling artist, you paced back and forth at the entrance of the student art gallery with a bouquet of irises in your hand. Sicheng, your emotional support for the day, stood as you walked the same path with annoyance. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why you felt nervous— it wasn’t even your exhibit, it was Yuta’s. 

Ten and Taeyong wrapped up their exhibits the week prior; Yuta’s was the last one.

“Are you done freaking out? Can we go in now?” Sicheng cocked a brow at you with his phone in hand. “The others are already inside.”

Wringing your hands together, you took in a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

Sicheng rolled his eyes before opening the doors to the gallery. Stepping inside, you were immediately welcomed by paper flowers of all sorts hanging from the ceiling and the quiet chatter of the gallery’s visitors. To the right, you saw a sign displaying the exhibit’s name: Efflorescence. A brief description of the exhibit was placed below it and you took the time to read it before stepping further in.

Snapshots of his life told through the appearance and language of flowers.

Ten and Taeyong, your seniors and close friends, were waiting for you off to the side. 

“Sorry for the wait, you guys.”

Sicheng grumbled, “Took her long enough to calm down.”

Ten laughed, “Were you nervous for him? You weren’t like this for our final exhibits.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Taeyong hushed the other two. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you close, “She’s nervous because this is her crush we’re talking about.”

“For heaven’s sake, say that any louder and he’ll hear you!” you screeched. The boys chuckled at your embarrassed state as you went ahead of them, ready to walk your way through the large room. From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta smiling by the exit, surrounded by people singing praises about his work.

You weren’t in a rush— you wanted to take the time to appreciate every piece before talking to him about why he chose to display each work. Talking to the object of your affection could wait.

The first few paintings were of his childhood and the flowers that accompanied each scene all had similar meanings— innocence, purity, etc. You noticed that most of his paintings were done with watercolor, which made complete sense. 

It seemed like he was always prepared to paint something, brush and paint always at the ready. The genius basically carried his foldable watercolor palette and pad everywhere he went, not wanting to miss an opportunity to paint a beautiful picture if he were to pass by one. That was another thing you admire about him— Nakamoto Yuta saw beauty in everything.

Deeper into the gallery, you found more familiar scenes and faces. There was a landscape of the fine arts department, with daffodil petals scattered across the canvas and it was titled New Beginnings. You passed various portraits of your friends, their beauty rivaling that of their birth flowers that shared the same space. Marveling at how realistic his paintings looked, you made a note in your brain to relay that thought to the artist later. He captured the essence of each person perfectly in a painting, breathing life into it, and you honestly couldn’t understand how one could do that. 

Spotting Kira’s familiar face admiring a painting up ahead, you quickened your pace to catch up to her. Feeling the light tap you placed on her shoulder, she turned around with a surprised look that turned into a genuine smile upon seeing your face. She released her hold on her companion, a cute boy with doe eyes and bright smile, before giving you a hug. 

“You’re here!” she squealed. Taking notice of the flowers in your hand, she winked, “Irises, huh? Nice touch.” 

“I stopped by your shop beforehand looking for you and an older guy wrapped them up for me,” you smiled sheepishly. “Should’ve known you would be here and not working.”

“My brother, Jongin,” Kira said. “And of course, I wouldn't miss Yuta’s exhibit for the world. He’s done a lot for me and my family.” She shared a fond look with the boy next to her and he squeezed her hand in return.

“This is my boyfriend, Mark, by the way,” Kira gestured to the boy next to her. 

“Yo, nice to meet you, dude,” Mark extended his arm out towards you and you gladly took in your hands to give it a shake. You laughed at his casual greeting; it was charming. 

“Back at you, dude,” you giggled back. 

Turning to take a peek at the picture they were admiring, you couldn’t help but break out into a wide grin. It was the two of them with the flower shop as their background. Yuta had painted Kira seated on top on the counter, eyes closed with glee and hands clutching a small bouquet of blue flowers. Mark, on the other hand, leaned towards her with fingers gripping the table top and looking at her with a loving smile. 

You could feel the love pouring out of it and it warmed your lonely heart. “Wow,” you whispered.

Kira leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder and he placed a tiny kiss to her temple. “I’m buying it from him once this is all over,” she said.

Knowing each flower played a part in Yuta’s paintings, you tried to distinguish what flowers she clutched in her hand. “They’re cornflowers,” Mark answered the question that lingered in your head.

“Why cornflowers?”

“Oh those things put us through a lot— a little pain sprinkled in with their beauty,” Kira smiled, leaving Mark to chuckle lovingly at her comment. It felt like a secret between the two of them and you were invading in their space. “They were what got us together in the first place.”

Her  sentence made you cock a brow. How could flowers be painful? That was awfully cryptic, even a little unsettling but it sounded a little familiar to you; it was on the tip of your tongue. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty special,” the boy grinned, gaze still glued to the person wrapped under his arm. “Cornflowers are my favorite.”

“They’re starting to become one of mine, too,” she returned the look. 

Mark’s bright brown eyes were shining with the love you wish someone had for you. It was a sweet sight, to see such a young couple in love. A part of you was jealous that they found a love like that so early in their lives while you pined after an artist that was so infatuated with flowers and their meanings. 

Wanting to leave them in their moment, you excused yourself with a smile. There were only four paintings left to see.

The first was a design you recognized. It was a more detailed painting of the sketch you had seen Yuta draw on the first day of the semester. A girl was seated on the grass, leaning her back on a trunk of a cherry blossom tree. Her hands were outstretched to the sky, trying to catch the falling petals in her hand. Stealing a glance at the title, Yuta titled the piece, Wishful Thinking. 

Moving to the next piece, it was a close up of Yuta’s hands. His palms were pressed together, cupping cherry blossoms in his hand. Petals and full flowers were scattered around the canvas, filling out all the empty spaces. The bright pink stood out against the color of his skin. You admired the amount of detail this piece had— the wrinkles on his skin, the gradient found on the petals. It held your interest, leaving you to wonder what this piece titled Inside meant to him. 

Yuta’s self-portrait was showstopping. He borrowed the flower shop’s name, calling this piece For You in Full Bloom. The painting brilliantly depicted him in all white, his eyes closed with pain and hands clutching at his throat. The blossoms were spilling out of his mouth, the petals tainted with a blood red. You could feel the sadness and the suffering emitting from the picture and it pained you to see such a vulnerable depiction of him. 

Putting two and two together, you figured it out. 

Hanahaki. You had read about the disease before, one of the artists you admired had it. They created art as a way to tell their story. It was their escape from the suffering, a way to ease their pain, and the one course of action they took to be remembered after their death.

The only piece of information you lacked was who made him tolerate such pain.

Skipping the last painting of the exhibit, you made your way through the crowd to find Yuta. He stood at the end with a polite smile, thanking everyone who attended his exhibit. Onlookers were showering him with compliments, leaving you to wait until the small crowd cleared out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” you breathed out with a concerned look. You couldn’t even spit out the name of the disease.

His smile widened into a genuine one, eyes gone soft at the sight of you. “You made it.”

Spotting the irises in your hand, he gestured towards the bouquet. “Are those for me?”

Still in shock that the person you were in love with was suffering all this time, you handed them to him without a word.

“Irises mean ‘congratulations,’ nice choice,” he laughed, trying to steer the topic away from his illness.

“Who?” you asked. “Who is it?”

Cocking his head, he answered you with another question. “You didn’t see the last one, did you?”

Shaking your head negatively, Yuta took you by the hand and the feeling made fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly as he led you a few steps away. Nodding his head towards the last frame, he whispered, “Take a look.” 

You felt his hand break out into a sweat and you wondered why this last one made him so nervous. Glancing at the title, you read the words Love Me Now. 

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself to see the person who had a hold on Yuta’s heart. Unlike him, you thought yourself strong enough to take the heartbreak— after all, you weren’t the one with flowers blooming inside you. Shifting your eyes over, you gasped as soon as you spotted whose face was framed on the wall. 

Staring back at you was the most beautiful painting of yourself. It was a you that you had never seen before. He painted you in flourishing pastels to match the happy look on your face. He captured your smile lines, the curve of your eyes, and the scrunch of your nose in such detail; it amazed you beyond belief. 

There was movement in your hair, the strands swaying in the wind along with the petals behind you. Your hands held a branch of your favorite flowers, half of them covering part of your face.

Captivated by seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

“Your smile makes flowers grow in my chest,” Yuta’s voice came from your side. You turned to see him wear a strained smile. Yuta’s huge eyes that were usually filled with kindness were taken over by something else— pain. 

There was pain in his words and you hear the ache in his voice. His tone is hoarse, like his throat is unbelievably dry or irritated. 

“I— I don’t know what to say.” 

Everything was extremely overwhelming. 

He shook his head to tell you that it was okay; he just needed to get the words off his chest. “It’s so beautiful and enchanting and it makes my heart clench and flowers take over my lungs.”

“Cherry blossoms,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t believe this was happening. There were words you wanted to say but you were struggling to find them.

“Sakura,” he repeated in his native language.

“My favorite flowers.”

“Your favorite flowers.” 

“You were never in love with flowers,” you stated, still in a state of shock. 

Yuta released this low, almost bitter sounding chuckle that comes from deep within his chest. “Never.”

“Then, you’re in love with—”

“You.”

“—me.”

Just like the artist you admired, Yuta painted his way through his pain of loving you. 

Nakamoto Yuta felt like he had been in love with you for the longest time. He had loved you before he could even muster the guts to let you know it, to invite you to this exhibit that displayed art dedicated to you.

He really hoped that you would show so he could take the chance to confess. Sure, you had promised but sometimes, people never intended to keep them. If he didn’t get it off his chest, he would never be able to breathe and Yuta desperately wanted to.

Yuta wanted to fill his lungs with breaths of fresh air and just breathe you in. That was all he longed for. 

“Oh,” was all you could breathe out.

“It’s okay that you don’t feel the same,” Yuta tried to comfort you, getting the wrong idea from your lack of words. “I just needed to let you know.”

The sharpening ache that became so familiar to him was building up in his chest again, preparing him for the worst. Yuta swallowed thickly, already feeling the petals working their way to his mouth. His airways began restricting, his breaths growing more haggard by the second. He had so many things to say and he was determined to let it out before the petals escaped. The words spilled out his mouth, his lips running like a motor, “I used to be afraid of being in love and being happy with a person that I loved because it hurts.”

“Yuta—”

He stopped you with a lifted palm. 

“Happiness never lasted with me, the flowers always ripped it away,” he explained, his trembling eyes focusing on your portrait and not the real person beside him. 

“But then I met you and felt things I have never experienced before. So, I pushed my way through the pain just to be with you because I felt like I reached for the stars and touched the sky when we were together.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe someone would sit through the pain just to spend time with you nor thought you were worth it but here Yuta was, proving you wrong.

“There were times I wanted to beg you to love me, just so the hurting and the bleeding—just everything— could stop but I was too much of a coward and it led me to this.”

Here he was, pouring his heart out to you with his images and words, and you couldn’t let out a single noise. You forced yourself to move forward, to slip your hand into his. The sensation of your fingers intertwining with his brought Yuta out of his daze to look at you.

“Yuta,” you said with trembling lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied with a sullen tone. You squeezed his palm and he gave you a light one in return. “If I don’t get this off my chest now, I’ll never be able to breathe and I really want to.”

“There’s no reason for you to lose your breath over me.” A sniffle escaped you and Yuta turned to see you crying. He bent down to wipe your tears away, his finger swiping against your skin ever so gently. 

“Why are you crying?” 

“Because you suffered because of me and you didn’t have to,” you shot back with a whimper.

“You couldn’t have known, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“No, no,” you interrupted him to his confusion. “It’s not that.”

Your voice was so soft under your quivers, he could barely hear you over the loud chattering of the other guests in the room. Yuta guided you just outside his exhibit to a bench and dried your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“What’s wrong?”

Yuta’s question made you laugh through your tears and at all the time wasted. He had been in pain for so long because he was yearning for you just as you were for him. The mutual yet silent pining took you down this route and it could have been avoided if you had just stopped being a coward and spoken up like Sicheng pushed you to.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you said with the dismissing wave. You willed yourself to look him in the eyes and bring a hand to his cheek. “It’s just that I think I’ve been in love with you as long as you have been in love with me.”

Your confession caused him to freeze in his seat. His brown eyes were blown out wide and mouth dropping in shock. Giggling as more tears fell, you quickly slide the hand cupping his cheek down to his jaw to shut his mouth closed. Running a thumb against his lips, you felt his pulse quickening at your touch. 

“You’re in love with me?” he asked, voice as gentle as the breeze. There was uncertainty and disbelief behind it. Yuta wanted to hear you say it again.

—🌸—

“I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” Your earnest words were music to his ears. 

He felt this comforting rush take over this body and it sent tingles down his spine, traveling all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Your confession worked like magic, spelling him with this high that made him soar to the skies. 

Yuta thought you were a witch, entrancing him with a love charm so strong that it brought instant relief to his pain. His heart was trying to fight its way out of his chest and the ache of his airways dulled. The muscle was pounding so loudly against his ribcage, he could hear it in his ears, and he swore you could hear it too. 

His lips upturned into the biggest grin, he felt like his cheeks were about to burst. 

Was this how a requited love felt? If it was, he never wanted to go without it again. 

Yuta rushed to pull you in his arms and sighed when you nuzzled your head into his neck. He shivered when he felt them whisper the three words he longed to hear into his skin. His body shook with laughter as he placed a lingering kiss at the crown of your head, reveling at the feeling of you encased in his hold. 

You tried to fight your way out of his grip but he only tightened his arms, not wanting to let you go. The action left you giggling into his neck, causing him to squirm until his hold loosened. Your hands trailed their way from his waist up to cup his face and suddenly, his eyes were locked onto yours. Just as you were getting lost in the deep sea of brown, his gaze flickered to your lips before looking back at you. His lips quirked up as you did the same. 

He felt your breath hitch as he leaned in to slot his lips against yours and the overwhelming rush returned. It seemed like his heart was racing against time, beating erratically as you kissed him so tenderly. Your lips were so soft and they tasted like the vanilla flavoring of your color, leaving him to chase after you every time you pulled away for a breath. 

Yuta fought the strain in his airways as he pursued your lips again and again, loving the way you felt and tasted. He picked up the smell of your cherry blossom shampoo and laughed into the kiss. The feeling of having you was so addicting— your love was his drug and he was forever hooked on you. He would devote himself to nothing else but you.

The sensation of Yuta kissing you and smiling against your lips sent you into overdrive. There were butterflies in your stomach, fireworks going off in your head, tingles down your spine and you loved it all. 

In the past, you only noticed Nakamoto Yuta’s undying love and admiration for flowers but this was the first time you finally noticed his love for you and it was nothing short of wonderful. 

It was the start of something new. 

🌸 author’s note— that’s it! it came out a bit more angst than i intended, definitely lacked the fluff i was expecting but i’m still satisfied with the ending uwu  i loved writing my little markie and kira in the fic, i’ve missed them! but yes!! that’s the end of my little bday present to myself! i hope y’all loved it! please leave some feedback; i would love to hear what you thought of it!! i think i literally fell in love with yuta while writing this.

🌸 taglist— @danishmiilk​ @hyunjins--laugh​ @littleflowercrown13​ @orange-nimon-cross​ @radiorenjun​ @ncteaxhoe​ @chancrispy​

[silkylious]

Limbo (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: bakugo katsuki x female reader warnings: heavy angst, eventual tiny bit of fluff at the end

omf this request is so nice i feel so bad that my writing is literally garbage in this, but thank you sm for requesting this!! <3 and im so sorry if i didn’t do your request justice (i legit hate my writing here :’))

To say the state of your relationship was unbearable would be the euphemism of the century.

Your thoughts often ran amuck, always hopelessly crawling back to that one despaired curiosity; wondering if he shared the same sentiment about your wishy-washy “friends” status as you did. He probably didn’t. That’s the seemingly unshakable brick wall that would inevitably dead-end your lovesick daydreams, each and every time. Though when his roughed-up hands linger on your skin a millisecond too long, when his steeled stare melts, hard rubies morphing into blazing lava pits, threatening to mar your very heart and soul with their scorching intensity –you’re not exactly certain you’d mind that– that’s when a flicker of something ignites within you. Hope, longing, doubt. Whatever it is, it terrifies you. Because you’re agonizingly aware of what that entails. He’s got you hook, line and sinker, but torturously he refuses to do anything with that. Almost like pulling someone in for a hug then abruptly and without explanation stopping midway, he keeps you at arm’s length. Not too far, not too close. And how that cycle destroyed you.

Katsuki was the type to jump into action and ask questions later. Except a lot of the times when these questions pertain to his own emotions, he didn’t even try to answer them, opting to shove them to the corners of his psyche, collecting dust, steadily accumulating until they become too much to ignore and he (sometimes quite literally) explodes. It’s a vicious loop that he could never break away from, he’d even come to find a sordid comfort in it. His coping mechanism was by no means healthy, far from it, but he’d grown familiar to the toxicity.

Katsuki couldn’t make heads nor tails of his feelings for you. Whenever he impulsively threw himself into the lion’s den that was your affection, caught in the moment, in the glimmer of genuine adoration in your eyes, he never came back the same. A piece of his heart would irreversibly split off and reside in the palm of your hand, he was scared that nothing would be left of it, that he wouldn’t be able to regain his bearings until it was too late. You so effortlessly juggled with his feelings, all with a single smile, it scared him that you had so much power over the fluttery sensation in his chest and yet, in the moment, it felt good. It felt so good to indulge in whatever fucky feeling was messing with his head, to let you hold him in the depths of obscurity with all prying eyes shut and what little words exchanged hushed. It felt so alleviating to feel skin on his own (for once not in battle), gentle, comforting but not coddling. It was unspoken between you that you were both more than friends. You knew it, he knew it. Neither of you ever mentioned it. What neither of you knew, however, was how far the other’s feelings ran.

But as high as your silent love made him feel, he crashed back down into the concrete when he was left to his own devices. Without your intoxicating scent, distracting touches fogging his rationality, Katsuki had all the time in the world to overthink. And overthink he did. His pride picked apart the delicate flowering in his heart, ripping it petal by petal until nothing was left but a garden of beautifully withered leaves, a condemnation to what he considered a weakness.

Katsuki was a taker by every sense of the word. Basking in your wispy adoration, only to brush you aside in favor of focusing on academics once he’d had his fill of your love. It was sickening.

Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t outright confessed to him, maybe that’s what soothed the overbearing guilt that crawled up his throat whenever he saw that dejected face of yours, the one you made because of him. If your feelings for him ran deep, surely you would have said something by now, at least that’s what he thought. Or more precisely, that’s the excuse his mind conjured up in hopes of easing his conscious, trying to convince himself that self that yes, he was hurting you, but at least he wasn’t hurting you that bad. He was infinitely aware that this doesn’t put him in any sort of moral high ground, nor does it justify his actions, but, again, it was a last-ditch effort to relieve his anguish if just by a little bit, even if he knew that excuse was bullshit.    

Surely he knew, there’s no way in hell someone as hawk-eyed as him didn’t notice the tyranny he held over the porcelain pitter-pattering of your heart, didn’t notice the fleeting, love-filled glances you sent his way. This was getting ridiculous, you were starting to believe he was taking some twisted sense of pleasure from your heartache, but he wouldn’t do that, right? He didn’t derive some sick kick out of having you indefinitely under his thumb, at his beck and call… right? A few months ago, you would have answered those uncertainties with a resounding “No!” defending his cruel behavior till the bitter end. But now…

Now you weren’t so sure.

And yet you still found yourself in his dorm, on his bed. It was supposed to be another study gathering, but one thing was glaringly missing. Y’know… the gathering. Kirishima was out training and he hadn’t bothered to invite the rest of his brain-dead, self-proclaimed squad. And that’s how you found yourself alone. With your best friend and secret crush. Just dandy.

Your hands were restless. Pulling at the seams of his blanket, cracking your own fingers, picking up your pencil for a brief moment of concentration, answering one or two questions only to drop it back on the mattress again and fidget some more. Katsuki wasn’t fucking blind, and your unease was ticking him off. Though he surprisingly hadn’t said a thing about it just yet, he was clearly nearing his wit’s end. His silence didn’t prevail for much longer, the meek sigh and not so subtle glance you chanced his way being his tipping point.

“What.” It came out as a statement, a demand rather than a question. What was he demanding? He hadn’t thought of that yet, his temperamental limbs already taking the wheel and pressing on the gas without a destination in mind, just being short fused for the sake of it. Was it even his place to be making demands in this situation? Katsuki knew the answer to this one like the back of his hand, a solid no.

“What…?” You really had no idea what Bakugo was expecting with a question like that. He still had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“The hell’s got you so jumpy?”

“It’s nothing…” It was a lot more than nothing, that’s for sure.

“Don’t lie to me, (name). What the fuck is up with you?” Ah, there it is again. That look. His words were as cut-throat as ever, and his mouth was still pulled into that seemingly permanent scowl. But his eyes conveyed something that was whole worlds asunder from his harsh tone. Golden brows furrowed as they usually were, though unusually upturned just the slightest bit. You despised that look. It ensured that you’ll forever be caught in his grasp, forever there for him when he never spared you the time of day.

Your lungs constricted by a force of gorgeously wretched agony. Katsuki wasn’t fair when he bared his soul to you like this, it filled you with such fervent euphoria that torrefied its way through your being, singeing your veins with luminous infatuation. And it hurt. Because you knew he’d cage himself right up as soon as the moment of vulnerability perished.

A crystalline sheen permeated your vision. This wasn’t going to end well.  

“I said it’s nothing,” Your voice raised. You hadn’t meant for the words to be as frosty as they came out, but it seemed like your subconscious was utterly done with the tedium of heartbreak he keeps putting you through.

“What is fucking wrong with you? I was literally just asking why you were being so goddamn obnoxious today and then you go and make a big fuckin’ deal out of nothing!”

“Well, maybe I’m just fucking tired of giving you everything I have and getting nothing in return, Katsuki!”

Your chest rose and fell with each scalding breath that entered your lungs. The blood through your veins was pumping. Never had you been confrontational, and your sudden outburst wasn’t exactly welcome to your system. You wanted to vomit. This was not how you wanted things to turn out, you absolutely needed to leave, distance yourself from the emotional strain he was inflicting on you.  

Without taking notice of the panicked glint in the cherry red of his irises, you bolted out of the suddenly claustrophobic room, leaving Katsuki to stare at his agape door before flickering his unfocused attention to your supplies still laying on his bed.

Katsuki erupted time and time again, with you being as patient as a receiving end could ever be. It’s specifically because of your godly patience that he never considered what he would do once you erupted.

With your back sliding down your dorm room door, and little friction stopping your descent, you wondered and maybe even wished he’d call after you, come banging on your door with bristling apologies on the tip of his tongue. However, the jarring reality was very clear to you. You’d decided on that day, with your head buried in your tear-stained pillow, that these were the last tears you’d ever shed on him, that you were going to put him through the same wringing hell he’d put you through.

You were going to ignore Bakugo Katsuki’s existence just like he’d periodically ignored yours.

The following week had been bleak at best and excruciatingly bitter at its worst for the both of you. It was so strange having to adjust to the absence of the other, even if your company more often than not had been a quiet one, it was company nevertheless. The most grueling part though, was your shared friend group. They’d noticed that something was obviously awry, but since neither of you said a thing about it, they decided it would be best if they didn’t either. The awkward dead silences during lunch were still purgatory to behold. But after a few more slow paced days, the sun seemed to shine bright again. For you, that is.

You didn’t realize how much of your schedule revolved around Bakugo until he was completely out of it. How much time you spent with him, dreading him, thinking about him… him, him, him. He’d consumed your thoughts from the first sparks of dawn till the hallows of dusk. You had so much free time now that he was out of the picture, it was crazy. The more time you spent on yourself, on your hobbies, getting to know other classmates outside of your immediate friend circle, the duller the ache in your chest. Until it was but a static buzz. Yet you couldn’t deny that, with time, your fury had mellowed out, leaving behind a cold loneliness you couldn’t elude whenever your aimless stare landed on him, almost like it was drawn to him by muscle memory.

He was the exact opposite.

You’d think the throbbing within him whenever you finally gazed his way then instantaneously looked in the opposite direction would knock come modicum of sense into his stubborn head. But nope. And seeing you thrive without him only cemented what he already knew. He really was no good for you. So much so that it barely took anytime for you to readjust to the lack of him in your life, and not only did you adjust, you were the best he’s ever seen you both mentally and academically. In the first week of you ditching him completely, his bruised ego kept him for reaching out to you, but now, seeing that elated grin on your face –the one that had been gradually dwindling over the past few months– he didn’t want to take your newfound happiness away, he’d figured he’d done you more than enough harm already.

Heart heavy with reluctance, Katsuki made the decision to give up on your relationship. Deciding to wordlessly cheer you on from the sidelines and watch you bloom, flourishing into the person he robbed you of being for a chunk of your life, though whenever your spring hit, it would be without him. Until some day in the future where his pride wasn’t as suffocating, where he could genuinely, wholeheartedly repent his grievances and only hope for your forgiveness.

Kirishima never took Bakugo for a quitter, hell would freeze over before he even thought such a thing. So this was certainly a shock. What was even more shocking ­– and overwhelmingly concerning– was the fact that Katsuki had willingly, on his own accord confided in him, and he’d, in his own roundabout way, taken accountability for being a gigantic douche to you. As much as the redhead respected his friend’s decision to stay clear of you, he couldn’t help but wish you’d just talk to one another for once. Kirishima really was a saint, having to listen to two idiots ramble about how much they miss the other.

“Listen, man. I know you feel bad and all that, but maybe you should just talk to her? I’m sure she’d like some closure on this just as you do, even if that doesn’t mean things will go back to the way they were.” Eijirou tried to reason, praying to whatever higher being out there that Katsuki would just get the fuck over himself and communicate with you.

“Fuck no. That’s not fucking happening, shitty hair,” Kirishima rolled his eyes at the oh so affectionate nickname, thoroughly done with his best friend’s melodrama. Welp, I guess there’s only one thing left to try. He heaved internally, mentally and physically preparing himself for Bakugo’s tantrum.

“Well, you know that if you won’t talk to her, others will, right? I heard some guys saying they’re gonna ask her ou–”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a rat’s ass who asks her out!” He definitely did. Eijirou hid his smile. Checkmate.

“Whatever you say, dude.”

Later that day, three distinctly powerful knocks woke you up. Needless to say, you didn’t think that night would end up with you and Katsuki staring each other down, seated on your bed at one in the morning. Words got stuck in his throat, so he just… noiselessly watched your face, as if trying to telepathically ram his constipated emotions into you, in hopes that you’d make sense of them. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“Did you come banging on my door at one in the morning just to stare at me, Bakugo? I mean I know I’m pretty but still–”

“Shuddup.” Not really the best thing to say to you after weeks of radio silence. You were about to make another salty remark, but he opened his mouth first.

“I fucked up,” The fact that he was acknowledging he was at fault was… something. But that wasn’t nearly enough to pay off the debt off turmoil he’d caused you.

“No shit.” You replied without missing a beat. The ice that tinged your words caught him off guard, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He sighed, knowing he’d have to strip himself of everything, including his pride (especially his pride) down to his very core, to have a go at a second chance.

And so, he did.

He poured his everything out for you to observe, without an ego film distorting his words. Syllables reeked of muted agony, he really had rid himself of anything and everything that wasn’t his deepest soul. He finally offered you himself just as you had done countless times before. Katsuki swore that his heart would –and always has been– explicitly yours, he’d roar that fact at the constellations above if you so wished him to. And while it would take a while to heal from coruscating blisters he’d inflicted, you were more than content mending and welting your heart with his.  

[eveningstar1516]

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 7

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

As he walked through the halls towards his next class, he made a vow to himself to try and feel that unfamiliar emotion until he could name it, then keep feeling it, because, for Satan, it felt like Y/N was right next to them, with their signature smile on their face, proud of him for focusing on a feeling opposite of his wrath. Should he start to feel his wrath taking over, he would picture Y/N, holding his hand, encouraging him to feel that unfamiliar emotion. One he soon learned was called ‘Philia Love’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 7 - Virtue of Loyalty (4265 words)

Our trip to the palace was a quiet one. Michael didn’t seem to want anything to do with me since he flew quite fast and left me behind multiple times as I'd never flown before and flying was extremely difficult. No one offered any assistance so I tucked my wings away, which I managed to figure out how to do after I accidentally did so mid flight, and ran under him. Looking straight ahead after confirming that I was keeping pace with Michael, I spotted the Celestial Palace. My jaw dropped in awe as I ran. The thing was massive! At least 2.5 times the size of Diavolo’s castle and even more decorative. The white walls were adorned with varying shades of golden accents making the palace seem larger than it really was. As I got closer, I learned that it was sitting in the middle of a massive garden that was overflowing with different kinds of celestial plants and trees. Although both the palace and garden seemed to be overflowing with decorations, everything still fit perfectly and was quite pleasing to the eyes.

Approaching the marble steps of the palace as Michael landed in front of me, greeting some gardeners as they stopped and bowed their heads to him. Signalling for them to resume their work, he continued up the steps motioning for me to follow. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I followed him looking as unfazed as possible. Upon entering I found that the outside of the palace does no justice to the massive interior. Abandoning plan to remain as neutral and unfazed as possible, I gazed in absolute awe at the decor, my mouth opening slightly. There were no lighting fixtures as massive windows lined the wall letting in more than enough sunlight through. A massive chandelier was located in the center of the room with golden and silver chains decorating it. The marbled floor also had silver and gold accents as a beautiful floral pattern was outlined. Hearing a chuckle behind me, I turned to see Michael looking at me with a smug smile on his face.

“Well how can you not expect me to be amazed by all this?!” I countered while spinning and gesturing around the room.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your smug smile said it all Mike” I flashed him a wicked smirk of my own as I called him by the nickname. His face darkened significantly as his tone dropped to what would have been a dangerous level had I not have spent my life with demons. It just didn’t have the same undertones as Devilish.

“Watch yourself child”

Giving him an exaggerated mock bow I responded.

“My humble apologies Sir Michael. I will be sure not to repeat the same error in the future.”

“Very funny.” He scoffed and walked off. I got up and followed him through the palace until we stopped between two massive golden doors to what I assumed to be the throne room. Michael addressed himself and stated that he brought me with him. 2 angels donning Celestial armour opened the doors. Michael walked in with his head slightly bowed and his gaze lowered. I walked looking straight ahead as I subtly took the room in. It wasn’t as big as I expected it to be. A golden carpet leading from the door to the throne was the most extravagant thing in the room. In contrast to the rest of the palace, the throne room was quite modest. Even the throne wasn’t extravagant, built for comfort instead of elegance. God himself looked to be a 6’8 man in his late fifties with chestnut coloured hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a simple white robe with gold accents. His eyes, a light blue colour, were emitting a slight white glow as we approached. Michael stopped a short distance from the throne and kneeled.

“Father, I have brought Y/N on your orders.”

“Thank you my son.” He turned to look at me.

“Y/N, you have caused quite the commotion in the 3 realms.”

I kept my tone playful as a polite smile made itself home on my face as I spoke with God.

“What can I say Father, trouble likes to follow me, wherever I may be.”

“That may be my child, although I am quite confused as to how you ended up here especially as a seraph. In case you didn’t know, that position must be earned here in heaven, so please explain to me, why I shouldn’t forsake you and have you fall to the Devildom?” He raised his right eyebrow and relaxed into his throne as he asked his question.

“Oh make no mistake, I didn’t want to come here in the first place, had I actually had a choice, I would have gone to the Devildom where I belong. Unfortunately, circumstances never seem to be on my side.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you came to be here, in that attire nonetheless.”

“Does it upset you that I come donning Lucifer's clothing and wings? I assure you, I didn’t have a say in my appearance. I am only staying here as long as necessary after all. I still wish to fall and return to my family.”

“Tell me child, how is it that a human finds comfort in the likes of demons rather than angels?”

“Whoever said I didn’t find comfort in angels? I find Simeon and Luke to be quite comforting whenever I get stressed with this whole 3 realms stuff. I just find the darkness of the Devildom more appealing as you and I both know what lurks underneath this “bright” soul of mine.”

“And yet you came here to me, why?”

“I presume you know the details regarding my untimely end?”

“Yes I am, although you weren’t due to perish yet, I do not dictate the souls within the Devildom realm. What of it?”

“I sacrificed myself for the brothers whom I have grown to call family so that they may continue to live despite being ruled by a tyrant whom you rivel for the title of “Devil””

“Watch what you say child! You are still addressing Father and not some random person off the street!” Ignoring Michael, I continued.

“I do not wish to return to the Devildom while it is ruled by King Abandon.”

“Child, I am aware of your relationship to the brothers as well as your loyalty to those you call family. I am also aware of the feelings you have for my eldest son. I ask you, has anyone told you about his duties while he was serving me?”

“Yes, Simeon and his brothers would speak about his time here as the leader of the council. Lucifer himself preferred not to talk about it but he answered my questions whenever I asked. I have also learned his work habits and often aided him whenever an overflow of work had come in due on a short notice.” God seemed to contemplate something. With a thoughtful look on his face, he addressed me.

“I have a proposition for you. You wish to fall and reunite with your family in the Devildom. I do not wish to have you up here, although you do not want to serve King Abandon.”

“That is correct.”

“I will grant your wish on one condition. I will allow you to return to the Devildom after Abandon’s reign is over, on the condition that you take Samael’s position on the council. You are to take over his responsibilities without attempting to sabotage the realm or abuse your power. Should you not be able to meet my expectations, or should you abuse your position, I will cast you out regardless of who is currently ruling the Devildom.”

Michael, who had stayed silent while his Father was speaking, was shocked by God's proposition.

“Father, are you sure this is the right way to go? Y/N doesn’t even belong here. Are you sure trusting them with Samael’s old position is a good idea?”

“Do you disagree with my judgment Michael? Do you believe me incapable of determining Y/N’s fate in my realm?”

Michaels face visibly paled as he realized the implications of his words. Bowing his head in mortification he answered his Father.

“‘O-of course not Father! I just don’t think that Y/N is qualified or ready to lead the council. They are unaware of how the Celestial realm operates and doesn’t have the experience that Samael possessed.”

Scratching his chin, God thought about Michael's words.

“You’re right Michael, you and the rest of the council as well as Simeon and Luke shall serve as their guide during their time here. You are to teach them how we operate and train them as to how to properly fulfill Samael’s role. You are to step down as the leader of the council once they have learned how to fill in the role themselves.”

Not being able to object to his Father's words, Michael agreed, although he tried to hide it, you could see how he clenched his teeth, obviously disapproving the entire idea and his new role as your babysitter.

“How about it Y/N, will you accept my proposal?”

“I have a few conditions of my own I’d like to add. I will accept on the condition that I return as soon as Diavolo is crowned king, no later and that other than the obvious changes that come with falling, no other changes will be made to me. I will follow your rules while I am up here and will serve you as long as it doesn’t result in any harm coming to the Devildom or Earth and their inhabitants. I will fulfill my role as Lucifer’s replacement during my time here, no more, no less.”

“Of course, that goes without saying. I will also add that you are to have no contact with any being outside my realm during your time here. We wouldn’t want anyone coming up here to retrieve you before our deal has ended now would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t. I accept your proposal to be Lucifer’s replacement until the time comes for Diavolo's crowning. Until then, I shall serve you and the council to the best of my abilities.” I stepped closer and kneeled before him as he sealed the deal.

“Alright then, as you are no doubt aware, each angel on my council represents a virtue. You shall as well. While Humility does not suit you quite right, I shall grant you a new virtue. One that could be considered a sin should it be applied incorrectly. I think you’d like that. Rise Y/N, Virtue of Loyalty.”

I rose to my feet as an invisible force caused my wings and halo to appear. They glowed a light blue as whatever magic God was using to tie me to the Celestial realm ran its course. Once the glowing dimmed down, I tucked my wings back in and bowed my head once more towards the being I now served for the time being and exited the throne room, making my way back to the House of Honors with Michael close behind. As we reached the front door, Michael turned me around. A hard and unforgiving expression on his face. A look of outright hatred in his eyes.

“Listen Y/N, just because Father has accepted you into the Celestial realm, doesn’t mean the rest of us have. You are still an outsider and I frankly do not trust anyone who has spent so much time around demons. I will follow Father’s orders in training you, but know this, Y/N, if I so much as suspect you of doing anything to upset the balance in the Celestial realm, if you hurt any of the angels here, I will take matters into my own hands. I will not allow a being as tainted as you to wreak havoc among the angels. Am I understood?”

Meeting his gaze, a smile made its way to my face as I responded.

“I will hold you to that.”

He took one last hard look at me and walked through the door. Left alone on the steps, I thought to myself, ‘Soon my demons, I’ll be back, soon’. I walked to the gardens and spent the next few hours tending to it until dinner.

In the Devildom. After they lost Y/N

As soon as they got home, Mammon went straight to Y/N’s room. How could he let this happen? He was their first damn it! He should have protected them, he should have stopped Lucifer, he should have done something! He entered Y/N’s room and immediately sat on their bed, made messily in their excitement to meet the king. He held their pillow, hugging to his chest as he started crying. Too lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear Asmo following him. Upon entering the room and seeing the state his older brother was in, Asmo put aside his own grievances and sat next to Mammon and embraced him, letting him cry on his shoulder. This reminded Asmo of a time in the Celestial realm. They were playing with Levi in the gardens when Levi tried to show off his tree climbing skills. As he was nearing the top, Mammon noticed the branch Levi was climbing looked ready to snap. He tried to warn Levi but was too late as the branch snapped and Levi fell. Mammon wasn’t fast enough to catch him. Levi ended up dislocating a wing and spraining his right shoulder. Asmo remembered walking by Mammon's room that night and heard quiet sobs, he knocked and opened the door revealing Mammon sitting on his bed, hugging his pillow crying. He sat next to his older brother and hugged him, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault and that Levi would be just fine. Coming out of the memory, Asmo did the same now, hugging Mammon and reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have stopped Y/N from giving that order and that everything will be ok.

“Will it be though? It just won’t be the same without them.”

“I know. It will be hard, Y/N was our family, but we’ll be there for each other.”

They slept together, holding each other in Y/N’s bed comforting each other until they fell asleep.

Present

It was an ordinary day for Mammon. He had just gotten back from a modelling gig at Majolish and was thinking up ways to spend the money he just earned. He was thinking of treating himself to a night out as he’d also gotten a math test back that day and passed with a 90%! Just as he was thinking about where to go, he felt the pull of a summoning. Mammon opened his eyes to find himself in an old cold basement. He scanned the room noting that the only lighting provided was a small bulb with a pull down string in the middle of the room and 3 small candles near the summoning circle. He found that the room was practically empty save for a thin mattress in a corner and some stairs leading to a door. He then spotted the one who summoned him, a little girl. She looked to be no older than 5. She was wearing stained and ripped overalls, one of the straps was missing. A light pink t-shirt underneath. Her brown hair was relatively short, only reaching her shoulders and was a tangled mess. Upon looking closer, Mammon noticed that she was covered head to toe in bruises and there were deep scratch marks on her arms and legs. He looked at the hastily drawn circle under him and found out that she drew it with some chalked rocks. She held an old summoning book close to her chest. Her big brown eyes looked so scared, yet if he looked closer, he could see what looked to be hope sparkling in the background. He could tell by looking at her that she held vast magical potential. Whoever put her here obviously knew the same.

“A-are you Mammon?” By Diavolo, she sounded so broken, like if he spoke too loud, she would shatter. Kneeling down to her level, Mammon put a soft smile on his face.

“Yes I am. What’s your name?”

“Cynthia”

“Ok Cynthia, what can I help you with.” Mammon doesn’t know what it was about the little girl, but he found himself genuinely wanting to help her. Maybe it was the way they looked at him with hope. Maybe it was because they were just a kid, or maybe, it was because her eyes reminded him of Y/N’s.

“I want to leave. My parents locked me in here. They don’t care about me. They only use me for their spells. Please Mammon, help me. I’ll give you my soul if you want, just please!” Tears came to her eyes as she pleaded with him to help her. Mammon upon hearing what these sorcerers were doing with their daughter, became enraged. He held his hand out to Cynthia with a smile on his face. He took the book from her hands and put it on the ground next to him.

“No, no, no. I won’t take your soul. It’s alright Cynthia, I’ll help ya. Why did you think I’d need your soul to help you?” “That’s what my parents said. They’ve been using me to try and summon you. I heard them arguing about who’s soul they would give to form a pact. Then they decided that they would give you mine.” Mammon didn’t think he could get madder, but by now, he was seeing red. Not only did her parents lock her up, they used her to try and summon him thinking he’d just accept a child’s soul to form a pact with them! Mammon was beyond angry.

“Don’t worry Cynthia, the Great Mammon will take care of your parents! You’ll be out of here in no time.” Sensing his rage Cynthia grabbed onto his legs before he made it to the stairs.

“No, don’t hurt them!” Mammon looked down at the girl in shock.

“Please don’t hurt them. They may have done all these awful things to me but they’re still my mom and dad! I don’t want you to hurt them, just get me out of here!” Mammon looked at the girl like she’d gone crazy. Her parents, who have locked her up in a basement, used her for spells, hell even tried summoning him in exchange for her own soul, she wanted them alive?! He saw how genuine she was being and he couldn’t find the heart to say no to her. Instead, Mammon knelt down to her level and took her hand. Cynthia looked at him with tears threatening to overflow. Mammon brought his other hand to cup her face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“Ok Cynthia, I won’t hurt them. I am mad at your parents for doing this to you, but if you don’t want me to hurt them, I won’t.” Mammon then brought Cynthia’s right hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it gently. A yellow seal formed on the back of her right hand and a matching pink one on the palm of Mammon's right.

“Now we have a pact Cynthia. I didn’t take your soul, I took your sadness. Did you know that demons could also take emotions to form a pact?”

“N-no. Does this mean you’ll take me far away from here?”

“Yes, and it also means that you won’t ever feel sad again. I know a nice witch who can take care of you. She will teach you how to use and call me with the pact. This way, whenever you’re in trouble, you will be able to summon me without drawing the circle again and I can come protect ya.”

“O-ok.” Mammon then picked Cynthia up and walked up the stairs, kicking the basement door down he walked through the house towards the front door. Before he reached it though, he heard a scream behind him. He noticed that Cynthia tensed considerably in his arms as he set her down, hiding her behind his legs. He turned around coming face to face with a middle aged couple who he preserved to be Cynthia’s parents. Her mom then yelled at Cynthia.

“Cynthia Maxwell Daemon! You come here right this instant!”

“Shut your mouth lady. She doesn't belong to you anymore.”

“Nonsense! She’s my daughter. She is mine to do with what I want!” Mammon's patience was running out. A scowl appeared on his face as he growled out.

“Listen here lady, I’ve got some choice words for you two that I wouldn’t care to say in front of the girl, but the fact that you thought you could summon me and exchange her soul for a pact with you? You're crazy to think I’d ever accept that kind of pact. Now Cynthia and I are leaving and you ain’t ever using her again!”

Cynthia’s parents then realized who they were talking to and their attitudes immediately changed.

“Please forgive us, Lord Mammon. We hadn’t planned for the girl to summon you. We apologize for the inconvenience the child caused you. If you would stay, we could reimburse you for your troubles.” Cynthia’s father bowed his head as he addressed Mammon. Mammon on the other hand outright laughed at that statement. Turning into his demon form he barked out

“You think her summoning me was an inconvenience?! You two are crazier than I thought! Now listen here and listen closely, neither of you are to come near or look for her. None of you are going to use her again. We are leaving and don’t ever bother trying to summon me again. Ya know, you should thank Cynthia. If she didn’t plead with me not to hurt either of you, you’d both be dead. Make no mistake, if either of you try to summon me or if I find you anywhere near her again, I will rip your hearts out and feed you to Cerberus. Kapeesh?” The dark undertones of Mammon’s voice got through to Cynthia’s parents as their faces paled in fear and they quickly agreed. They begged for his forgiveness and promised not to harm Cynthia again if he could just stay awhile. Not bothering with them anymore, Mammon picked Cynthia up and walked out, flying towards the one witch he’d ever trusted. When he landed, he realized that Cynthia was crying.

“Sorry Cyn, I didn’t scare ya, did I?”

“A-a little, but these aren’t scared tears. I’m happy. Thank you for getting me away from them and for letting them live.”

“Of course. The Great Mammon keeps his promises.” Mammon walked up to the door of the small cottage. He knocked and a young witch with long blond hair, green eyes, and freckles answered the door.

“Mammon what a surprise! What brings you here?” She opened the door gesturing for him to come in.

“Sorry, not today Kelly. I’m actually here for her.” Mammon stepped aside, revealing a scared Cynthia behind him.

“Oh my Diavolo! What happened to you, you poor girl?!” Kelly rushed forward cupping Cynthia’s chin as she inspected her body, taking in all the bruises and cuts.

“Kelly, this is Cynthia. She summoned me to save her from her parents. I was wondering if ya could take care of her. I know ya've always wanted a kid, so…”

“Of course! I could never turn someone in need away, especially a girl as cute as her.” She said while pinching Cynthia’s cheeks. Cynthia giggled in response.

“Ok then, Cynthia, Kelly here’s gonna take care of you. I promise that she won’t act like your mom and she will help you learn how to use both your magic and your pact.” Reaching into his pocket, Mammon pulled out the Grimm he’d earned that day. He then put them into Cynthia’s palm.

“Here ya go kid. Now if you ever visit me, you’ll have some money to spend.” Mammon turned to leave when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Cynthia pulling him down to the ground. He crouched down. Cynthia then kissed his cheek, giving him one of the Grimm he’d given her.

“Thank you Mammon.” She then ran behind Kelly’s legs and waved goodbye with a massive smile on her face.

It’s been a couple years since Mammon saved Cynthia. She’d grown to be a strong and skilful sorcerer. He’d visit her often over the years with something in tow for her. Mammon never spent the Grimm that Cynthia gave back to him on that day. Whenever Mammon had a tough time with the numerous witches he’d find himself in debt with, he’d always find his way to her, and she comforted him, never asking for more than his company, something he was more than happy to give. His brothers would always know whenever he went to see her as he’d always come back with a content smile on his face. Deep down, he wished that Y/N could’ve met Cynthia. They would have made great friends as they were the only 2 people who could make him smile like this. Mammon may not have been able to save Y/N, but he swore that he would protect Cynthia, no matter the cost.

[enhyupn]

the perfect date! four

masterlist | previous | next

a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks.

paring: 02s x gn!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: fluff, angst, high school!au, someone’s gonna end up heartbroken

warnings: swearing, violence is mentioned, jealousy, arguments + there might be grammatical and spelling errors in this 😞

ask to be on taglist, updates are irregular

a/n i should really make a masterlist BUT!!! okay i’ll edit this properly soon my eyes aren’t working rn since i’m on the road also it’s taking a while to get to the actual date 😩 Bit so wait for that everyone

taglist: @dchannie17 @simluvbot @jaeyuni @neocrush @penghoons @min-arya @sunooflowerss @badroseee @cha-raena @ghjasksdk @strawr @jaypen @nanachuu @nikisboxysmile @softkons @kisshoons-main @enha-woodzies

you had felt as if your feet were about to fall off by the time you had reached the gate of your well loved home. with heavy breaths you could see the outline of a figure standing almost a meter away from you. a scowl on your face when you saw the almost semi-permanent smirk placed on jay’s face as he stood proudly in front of your home. you let an exasperated sigh out as you lean against the cold metal gate, not able to find the energy to open it up. the lack of daylight surrounding you only really added to your draining energy. you roll your eyes before fixing your school blazer into it’s proper appearance and adjusting your school bag to fit comfortably on your shoulder. you look up once again, your eyes meeting the blonde dyed boy’s eyes. a smile placed in his eyes, something that showed you that had been waiting for you.

your mind couldn’t help but remind you that this was one of the few moments where you had really taken the time to look at jay’s face. your time in middle school didn’t really give you any opportunities due to the fact you were so shy and bashful in front of the boy that you couldn’t even properly look at him. you just so barely properly spoke to him and exchanged messages to even form some sort of connection. you never really questioned until then why he had a crush on you in middle school, a time in your life where you had thought you were going to be alone forever. as much as you wanted to question him you knew you’d accidentally expose your own past crush, something you desperately didn’t want to explain.

“are you gonna greet me or are you just gonna keep staring at my face?” he teased, letting out a hearty laugh. you shook your head, not approving of his statement. you unlock your gate as you send him another glare. the wind added to the already dramatic yet heart warming scene, loose cherry blossom petals from a nearby tree flying around you almost romantically.

“i was not” you murmured as you had gotten closer to him, the sound of the grass lightly flattening as you walked over it with care. you might of even stepped on a bug in the process, none of the surrounding light exposing itself onto the lawn meaning your vision was very little. “as if i’d willingly do that”. the boy only laughed in response as you leaned against the wall, very eerily close to him. you eyes dart to the small space in between the two of you, unexplainable heat rushing to your cheeks. the boy sends you a look with his eyebrow raised, unsure what the problem was. “anyways, what was that call even for?” you manage to shift the attention back into your words.

“hmmmm” he pretended to think, the joke only causing you to snort quietly to yourself. his head suddenly twists towards you, the previous view of your sad looking garden not doing him any justice in your conversation. from your point of view, your eyes only widened in surprise when you had realised just how close your faces were together. his nose was almost touching yours and, if you wanted to, you could of even touched foreheads together. “i don’t know”.

“what do you mean i don’t know?” you move your face back, jay not noticing the small movement from your sudden bashfulness. “who calls saying i’m at your house, come home quickly before i break in without a reason?” you continue, hands flying around you as you try and theatrically explain his excuse.

“maybe i do?” jay laughed in between his words. you roll your eyes at his playfulness, a small smile forming on your lips when you looked down at your feet. as much as you wanted an explanation, hearing jay finally for the first time in years joke around with you simply just felt better.

“veeerry funny jay” you spoke breathily, leaning further against the wall of your home. you knew your parents were waiting for your arrival, probably sitting in their room asking themselves when you’ll eat your dinner. however, you weren’t entirely really sure if they knew about jay’s sudden visit outside your door. with a quick sigh out you turn to him once again, the boy only mirroring your action with a grin spread across his face. “how did you know where i live? or remembered my number?”.

“jake, for both of your answers” you seem raise an eyebrow at the mention of your best friend’s name, suspicious on what had happened between the two of them.

“you two are buddy-buddy now?” you tease, your fingers wiggling in front of his face playfully as you let a squeaky laugh out. jay lightly swatted your hands away, a low chuckle escaping him mouth as he turned away from you to look at the bland scenery in front of him.

“not exactly, we just both relate to things i guess” he replied quietly, the sound of crickets chirping and wind slightly breezing through following the sound of his voice. your lips morph into a small smile when you had listened to his words.

“that’s nice to hear” you sigh out blissfully, your head nodded in agreement while turning to the front of you too to look at the same scenery his eyes were trained on. “no more fighting then, i suppose?”.

“can’t promise that one” jay awkwardly let out, his head replaying the memory of earlier that evening. he bit his lip in guilt, feeling yet again apologetic about the whole situation. “hey i’m sorry—”

“—it’s fine” you interrupt him abruptly. you had already predicted what he was about to say, knowing jay’s personality you knew he would feel incredibly guilty about it. you knew it wasn’t either of their faults, from every way you’ve looked at the situation you understood that the two of weren’t the best with handling any sort of feelings they felt. “you two were just emotional, plus i wasn’t giving you enough attention today too”.

“give me attention?” he laughed, a growing blush scattering across his face. his brain almost blew up at your slightly affectionate comment. “why would you say it like that?”.

“oh shut up” you nudge him lightly, biting your lip in slight embarrassment when you had realised what you had said. “you know what i mean! i haven’t seen you in forever and of course you would wanna catch up with me”. you glance at him while your feet tapped slightly, “right?”.

“how cocky of you to think i missed you” jay jokingly rolled his eyes. you could tell from his playful tone that he was just teasing you, although it didn’t stop you from lightly elbowing him in the side.

it felt nice, talking so freely with the boy you’ve probably spent a good chunk of your life thinking about and as well as even missing. the brain of middle school you would of never even thought this would of happened, with you thinking then that the two of you were on two completely different levels (with jay being on the significantly higher level, even during those middle school years). you wish you could of told your younger self that those times spent silently admiring your school crush wasn’t a one sided thing as much as you had thought.

“don’t go thinking i missed you either too then!” you pout. the action setting jay’s brain into haywire, you had such an affect on him but you were the only one who couldn’t realise it.

he abruptly swivels his head forward, not wanting you to catch his embarrassing slip up. your own action caused him to clear his head completely blank, not having any snarky comebacks for your reply.

“remember the jeju day trip in middle school?” jay changed the subject, it caused you to raise an eyebrow before taking a glimpse at him.

you didn’t really understand why he had brought it up, it wasn’t anything significant. you can vaguely even remember the day, the only real memory you had of that day was your aunt dressing you up for it. she had wanted you to look your best, you can’t really thank her for anything since that whole night was truly just unmemorable.

“no” you paused to rack your brain in hopes to find anything to add to his question. “why? was there something worth remembering?”, yet another pout formed on your face from his puzzling question.

“the plane ride there?” he mentioned, trying to jog your memory in hopes to find what he was trying to say. “do you seriously not remember?” he laughs unexpectedly, his voice only sending your heart beating rapidly.

“n-no” a stutter had caught up to your words. you had no idea why he was still giving you this affect. i mean you’ve gotten over him over the course of his absence, right?

“well, remember earlier today, what i told you in front of sunghoon and jake” he rambles on, completely ignoring your embarrassed state. you glance back at him, noticing he was awkwardly playing with his fingers with tinted red ears. you smile to yourself, the boy setting your cheeks on fire with small actions that you didn’t think would even affect you.

“yeah, what about it?”

“i said i had a crush on you” he continued, his words only sending butterflies to your stomach as you tried to put on a calm smile. you only nodded silently, unable to find the correct answer to reply to him with. “on the plan ride to jeju, we sat beside each other” you watched from his side his hands ran through his hair, “you were so talkative and just so bright— happy? something like that. i remember only wanting to talk to you that whole day after we got off the plane, my friends kept teasing me about it and wouldn’t stop asking why i kept glancing at you throughout our whole trip”.

“you’ve liked me since then?” you let out; quietly questioning his comment, your hands cupping your mouth in realisation at your slight mixup of words. “i mean— you started liking me then? up until whenever you’ve stopped liking me? you get what i’m trying to say—”.

“who said i stopped liking you?”

if words could kill, his would of definitely made you drop stone cold onto the ground. you open your mouth, and without surprise nothing came out due to your speechless state of mind. did he really just— was he being serious? that’s all you could think as you blankly stared at his face, eyes slightly widening as a small smirk laced through his lips. you would of comically checked your pulse in front of him as a way to ease this tension but you were too star struck to even move an inch. what was going on?

“h-huh?” only a noise came out of your mouth, desperately yelling at yourself to just even let out a single word. jay only seemed to find humour in this situation, chuckling at your frozen state as he straightened his back. with a step forward he looked back at you, his face being illuminated by the cheap porch light in front of your door. you could only gulp at his figure, somehow looking more like a pictorial pose than a casual pose regular people would normally do.

“you heard me” with his head whipping back to the front of him. he placed both of this hands behind his head, an audible yawn coming out of his mouth to express his drowsiness. “it’s getting late isn’t it?” he had professed quite randomly, a completely different choice of topic than your original one.

“well, yeah...” you replied, your words sounding confused. if someone had asked you what the two of you had been talking about that whole evening, you wouldn’t of been able to tell them anything.

“i should get going then” he stretched his arms gently, an action now raising your eyebrow in suspicion. with your arms crossed you watched as he took a step further away from you, his figure almost disappearing in the darkness of your garden.

“you’re just not gonna explain your last sentence?” you nervously informed the boy of his previous words. the boy only continued his walk down the small pathway in front of the two of you, a laugh being heard even with the distance.

“what do you mean explain?” he taunted, finally reaching the cold metal gate you had earlier made in contact with. the creak of the gate caused you to flinch in shock, you watched as he swiftly made his way past your gate, his feet stopping as he closed it again. staring back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “the explanation’s right there”.

“but—”

“see you tomorrow y/n” he put a stop to your attempt, a small smile dancing happily upon his face as he took off on his journey home. “sweet dreams!” you could faintly hear him as he made his way deeper down your street.

“what— what was that about...” you spoke hesitantly. your words coming out quietly unable to really understand what had happened, something that was happening far too often that day. you understood what he said definitely, but at the same time what did he say? he said the explanation was there but as much as you wanted your brain to believe his words, you couldn’t allow yourself.

you stood there for a good few minutes, your brain trying to come up with reasonable answers; ones that weren’t pointing towards the conclusion that jay park could possibly like you. as in like—like romantically! there was no way you were going to let yourself believe in something as unbelievable as that. letting out a loud sigh you finally make up your mind to go inside your house, not having the energy to even try and make up an excuse to your parents on why you were arriving home so late.

with your hand on the door handle you felt a surprising quick vibration coming from your right pocket. you sweat instantly on the spot, your brain instantly scattering the word jay in the blank spaces in your mind. cautiously, you dipped your hand into your pocket, bracing yourself for a very awkward message from the blond boy.

park sunghoon (3-A) added you to “booth @ festival”

you sighed happily at the notification, until you had realised the previously mentioned boy was also in this group chat. your eyes drifted at sunghoon’s contact name, the formality of it almost begging you to change it into something more casual.

sunghoon: Meeting tomorrow at 7:30AM sharp, please be there on time.

jakey: sure! no promises though

jakey: the bus run’s on it’s own time sometimes

sunghoon: I can excuse that.

jay: why do you type so stiff

you couldn’t help but agree at jay’s off topic tease, sunghoon’s way of typing seemed very formal for a group chat with your classmates. a quiet giggle escaped your mouth as you walked into your house, “i’m home!” you informed your family as you raised your voice one step into your home.

sunghoon: What do you mean?

jay: ok nvm

y/n: i’ll be there!! see you three tmr 🤍

with your hand forcefully taking your shoes off, you lazily typed your reply with one hand with little to no attention on your screen. you felt your heart race rapidly when you realised, out of habit, you send a white heart to the group of boys. cursing to yourself you threw your shoes onto your shoe rack, the position of them awkwardly almost falling off the shelf they were on. you swiftly typed out a reply, trying to explain your small accident without further embarrassing yourself.

y/n: i didn’t mean the heart .

jay: sureee you didn’t

y/n: shut up

jakey: this is like the third time you’ve done that

y/n: STOP IT PLEASE FOR MY OWN SAKE

sunghoon: I think we should stop embarrassing Y/N.

y/n: thank you sunghoon

y/n: ummmm anyways goodnight!

you groaned loudly, knowing it was more than likely that jake and jay would tease you about it the following morning. you felt yourself dramatically falling on your bed, your face being engulfed by your bed sheets as you ran your hands through your head in frustration. the only thing stopping you from screaming your embarrassment out was the fact someone in the room beside you scolded you for making noise so late in the night.

“sorry!” you replied back, your face warm from your burst of energy. “can’t wait for tomorrow” you sarcastically whispered to yourself, bringing yourself to sit properly at the edge of your bed.

in the whole course of a day, nothing had gone to plan. first jay showing up? jake confessing to you? sunghoon (kind of) walking you home? all of this just on day one, you couldn’t even imagine what day two was going to be like.

“cannot wait!”

[rowyn-writes]

Inner Demons (Jack Kline x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, violence, self-loathing, mentions of death, smidge of fluff, small spoilers for 13x23

Pairings: Jack Kline x Reader

Characters: Reader, Jack, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Mary, Bobby.

Word Count: 2k

AU: Soulmates

Summary: When Jack runs away after accidentally hurting you, you run after him.

Requested by: @ivyyie

You sat in the bunker, chatting happily with the survivors of apocalypse world. You loved meeting new people, and this was no exception.

You were 22, and had been hunting since you were little. Your parents had known Sam and Dean, two of the greatest hunters of all time. So when they passed away, the Winchester's swore to look after you. Although, you had said repeatedly that you didn't need their help. That was a lie, of course; you loved living with them. They were like the older brothers you never had.

Dean came up to you, a grim look on his face. "C'mon, kiddo. We need your help with something."

· · ·

You stood underneath Mary's umbrella as you looked at the dead body of Maggie. You felt your heart break at the sight. She had been an awfully sweet girl, and you knew that Jack had been close friends with her. You squeezed his hand gently, trying to give him a little bit of comfort.

"I - I-" Jack mumbled, shaking his head. I said I'd protect her, and, Sam. . ."

"Stop, Jack." Sam interjected. "This isn't your fault.'

"Sammy's right." You agreed gently. "There's no way you could have stopped this."

"What happened to her?" Dean questioned.

"I don't know." Mary said with furrowed eyebrows. "Doesn't look supernatural"

"Looks like some son of a bitch beat on her until. . ." Bobby broke off, not being able to finish his sentence. You looked away from Maggie, seeing her like this was too hard for you.

"Who would do something like this?" Castiel growled

On the way back to the bunker, Jack was silent. You could tell he was blaming himself for what happened to Maggie. He was so angry.

"Jack." You whispered. "You can't blame yourself. There's sick people out in the world that aim to hurt people. Not just monsters are capable of killing someone like that."

"I promised that I would protect her." Jack insisted. "I promised that I would protect all of them. That they wouldn't have to worry about Michael and his army. And they come back here just to be killed? How is that fair, Y/n?"

"I never said it was fair, Jack. Nothing's fair. Good people die all the time, and the worst ones stick around for the longest time. It's infuriating, but that's just how it is."

"But why? I don't understand. Bad people are supposed to be punished." Jack's voice shook in anger.

"I used to say that when I was younger. I would ask my mom why that would happen, and she would say, 'When you're picking a flower, do you pick the beautiful one, or the one that's wilted?' Of course I would say the beautiful one. And she would reply with, 'That's how God works. He picks to most beautiful ones for his garden.'"

"Your mother sounds like a good woman." Jack noted.

"Yeah, she was." You nodded. "We're going to find out who did this to Maggie and make sure she finds justice." You assured Jack.

You decided to help Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack interview people who were close with Maggie.

"Word is, you're friends with Maggie." Dean inquired as he entered the library.

"Um, yeah, since we came over." The girl said. You didn't have a chance to speak with her prior to this, so you had no clue what her name was. "Me and her, we didn't have anybody else, so we kinda stuck together."

"So I'm sure you know she went out last night." Sam raised an eyebrow at the girl. She nodded. "Well, she didn't come home."

"Um. . . Is Maggie in trouble?"

You looked down at your hands, not sure how to tell her what happened. Although, Cas seemed to be prepared.

"She's dead." He spoke up, rather nonchalantly. You smacked your palm against your forehead. Castiel could be really insensitive at times.

"She. . . No, that's not. . ." The girl was obviously in shock. Her only friend was dead. "We were supposed to be safe here."

"We need to know where Maggie went," Sam pushed. "Who she was talking to."

The girl shook her head. "I don't. . . There was a boy."

"What boy?" Jack demanded, looking up.

"Nate." She informed him. "He works at that store out on Route 281. Maggie, she had a crush. That's why she snuck out last night. She was going to meet him."

"All right." Dean grumbled, running a hand over his face. "Well, let's go talk to this boy, Jack-"

You all turned to see that Jack was now gone. "Shit." You mumbled, grabbing your jacket and bolting out the door.

You knew how Jack could get when he was upset or when someone he cared about was hurt. It never ended well.

You, Cas, Sam and Dean hopped into the Impala, driving like mad to the store that Nate worked at.

You were worried, not only for Nate, but for Jack as well. If this kid didn't murder Maggie, and Jack hurt him, it would kill Jack. Hurting innocent people was one of Jack's worst fears.

You were the first one out of the car, bolting inside the store. To your horror, Jack was holding Nate against the wall by his throat.

"Jack!" You exclaimed, running up to him. "Jack! Stop!" You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to leave Nate alone.

Jack whipped around, his eyes glowing orange. The next thing you knew, you were sent flying back into a shelf.

You gave out a grown, holding your injured arm. "Y/n!" Dean called, running up to you. "Are you okay?" You nodded, very visibly in pain.

Jack continued his assault on Nate, refusing to let up.

"Jack?" Sam pleaded. "Let him go!"

"Alright," Dean muttered, pulling his gun out of his waistband. "Jack!" Three loud shots rang out, making you flinch. You slowly got to your feet with the help of Cas. The Nephilim dropped Nate and turned around, and as he did so,

Jack had a look of surprise on his face as he gazed at the four of you. "You. . . Shot me?"

"To get your attention!" Dean yelled. "You're acting like a psychopath!"

"Jack," You said, limping to him.

"He killed Maggie!" He growled.

"Maggie? Maggie's dead?" Nate whimpered.

"Jack, Nate didn't do it. Look at him." You whispered. "He's destroyed. He would have never hurt Maggie. Not in a million years."

"Y-you're hurt." Jack noted, looking at you. "I did that. I made you bleed."

"Jack, it's okay, you didn't kn-"

"I'm so sorry." He cried, running out the door.

"Jack!" Castiel called out.

Dean put a hand on his chest, stopping him from following after Jack. "No, hey, just – let him go."

"Yeah," You huffed. "Fat chance." You pushed past Dean and ran after the Nephilim.

You looked around, not seeing him anywhere. "C'mon, Jack." You mumbled. "Where are you?" You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You knew you could find him, you just had to use the bond that you shared.

You figured out a long time ago that Jack Kline was your soulmate. You felt what he was feeling, whether it be sad, happy, angry or confused. And all you could feel right now was self loathing. If you could just get a feel of where he is right now, then you would be able to find him.

There were trees surrounding him, and it all seemed oddly familiar. You knew the forests of Kansas like the back of your hand. You would often go exploring around there whenever you were bored and Sam and Dean were off on a hunt. You recognized the large oak tree that sat in the middle of a clearing. You knew exactly where Jack was.

You ran as fast as your hurt ankle would let you. It was probably just sprained, but it was going to hurt a hell of a lot worse when all of this was over.

As you approached the clearing, you could hear Jack talking to himself. He kept hitting his chest, as a way of hurting himself. Your heart broke as he continued talking.

"You keep hurting people!" He yelled. "You keep. . ." His voice cracked as he cried. "Hurting. . . Why do you keep hurting people?!"

"Jack?" You said timidly.

Jack turned around, clearly horrified to see that you followed him. "Y/n! D-don't come any closer. I don't want to hurt you!"

"You're not going to hurt me, Jack." You held your hands out, trying to show that you wouldn't harm him.

"I already have!" He pointed out, seeing your limp, your bruising wrist and your cut cheek. "I did that to you. You're in pain because of me."

"Jack, I'm a hunter. I've felt things ten times worse than this. I'm not in pain. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, you were just startled is all."

"But I almost killed Nate!" He yelled. "He was innocent. He never murdered Maggie and I almost -" He broke off into sobs. You came closer to him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. He refused to look up. "I'm a monster. I'm just like him."

"Jack Kline." You said sternly, drawing his attention up to your face. "You are not a monster. Do you hear me?" He stayed silent. "And you aren't like Lucifer either."

"You don't know that." He whispered.

"Yes, I do. I've met Lucifer, and I've met you. Jack, you are the most compassionate person I know. You feel everyone's pain and you feel emotion on a completely different scale than other people. You brought those people from Apocalypse World here and gave them another chance. Lucifer wouldn't have done that. But you cared enough to do that." You cupped Jack's face in your hands. "You are good, Jack. Something that Lucifer's not. He will never have your compassion, and he will never know what it feels like to love and be loved."

You felt Jack's tears hit your fingers. You gently brushed them away. "It's okay." You assured him.

"But it's not." He insisted quietly. "I've hurt people, Y/n. People are dead because of me. What I've done is unforgivable."

"Jack, we've all made mistakes. And yes, some are worse than others, but we've all been where you are. Me, Sam, Dean, Cas, we all know what it's like. We are here for you, because we are your family."

"You haven't made a mistake where someone's gotten killed though." Jack took a hold of your hands and lowered them to your sides.

You swallowed hard. You had to tell him. That was the only way to get through to him. "Jack, when I was younger, I made a mistake. A mistake that got two people killed." Jack looked at you in surprised. "I was on a hunt with them, and I was supposed to be a lookout. I had been awake for days because I had been having nightmares and refused to sleep. So while I was supposed to warn them if I saw anything, I fell asleep and they were both killed by vampires." He stayed silent as you continued to talk. "They were my parents. I'm the reason they're dead." You were now crying. "We make mistakes Jack, and some of them get people killed. It's a fact of life and it's what happens when you're a hunter. I've made peace with my inner demons, and I can help you do that too. Just let me help, Jack."

"I'm sorry." Jack whimpered as you both continued to cry. "I'm so sorry."

You shook your head as you brought him in for a hug. "It's okay. It's all gonna be okay, I promise." You buried your head in his chest, breathing in his scent. "I love you."

Jack shifted slightly, making you look up at him. "You. . . Love me?" He questioned.

"Yes. I love you, Jack." You repeated yourself. "I love you like Dean loves Cas. I love you like you like Sam loved Eileen. I love you, Jack Kline."

Jack gave you a weak smile as he looked down at you. He hesitantly pressed his lips to yours, obviously unsure if what he was doing was right. Your mouth moved against his, your tears mingling together.

"I love you, Y/n Y/l/n." He mumbled against your mouth.

The two of you stood there, holding each other, completely content.

[reciprocityfic]

passing afternoons

title: passing afternoons fandom: little women pairing: theodore laurence x amy march  rating: m summary: “did you have any dalliances after me?” she asks.

he blinks hard as his brain reels for a moment, as he struggles to comprehend what she’s saying. after her? there is no after her. there never will be.

then, he stops. thinks. she means...oh. oh.

she means after that time in the garden, in paris. when he’d first revealed his feelings for her, and she’d rejected him. left him standing there alone and feeling like an utter, hopeless idiot.

oh.

(laurie and amy spend a late summer afternoon talking about the past.)

author’s note: i've literally shipped laurie and amy since like fourth grade. so when i saw little women (2019) and found out it did my bbs justice, i basically cried. i've been meaning to write fic ever since, but alas, here we are almost a year later. i hope you enjoy it anyways.

i have another fic in the works that's longer and definitely more angsty, which i hope to post relatively soon. i also hope to write more fluff (also maybe smut???) for them in the coming months bc GOD i just love imagining these two together. in the meantime, i hope you enjoyed this!

xoxo, rebekah

passing afternoons

They enjoy being lazy after sex.

They’re not always afforded the opportunity, of course.  At night, they tend to fall asleep rather quickly afterwards, exhausted and sated and tangled together.  And the occasional forbidden interlude - when they’re some party or gathering wholly bland or pretentious and the two of them (sometimes tipsy, sometimes bored, always and perpetually desperate for each other) run off to some dark corner or isolated room where he lifts the skirt of her dress and the too-many layers underneath and uses his body to press hers against the wall as he sinks into her from behind and they pray their moans and the sounds of their bodies together won’t be heard - must be short and altogether swift, no time to dwell in the aura of the sensations and feelings between them.

But then, there are days when Grandfather is occupied with the business and the Marches are busy and they dismiss the servants.  It’s just the two of them in their grand house with time that seems to stretch on and on.  Sometimes they’ll make it a game of sorts, shamelessly flirt and tempt each other to see who will break first, but oftentimes they’ll share a look and a smile and then they’re off in a race to their horizontal surface of choice.

Today is one of those days, when they’ve nowhere to be, nothing to do, and are all alone.  It’s an unusually hot day in late September, and when Amy had complained about the warmth, he’d suggested she take her blouse off.  She’d raised an eyebrow and told him to go first, and then one thing led to another and now they’re naked and sore and satisfied, laying on their bed as the early afternoon sun shines in through their open windows.

He lays on top of the sheets on his back, head at the foot of the bed and hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling and trying to find imaginary patterns in swirling paint.  She lays parallel to him, but leans against the headboard, her long blonde hair falling around her face as she sketches him.  He hadn’t seen her take out the pad and pencil she keeps in the dresser near their bed, but he can hear the sound of graphite moving against paper as she draws.  He grins as he imagines her face, lips pursed and brow furrowed, wide green eyes focused and the movement of her hand knowing nothing but purpose even with the most casual of sketches.

They do not touch and do not talk.  Still, the intimacy of the situation - of being together and completely safe and comfortable with the person you love most in the world - is overwhelming.  Its warmth cocoons him, and he feels his eyes getting heavy as he lies there, a breeze blowing in from the open window and caressing his skin.

“You had your many dalliances after Jo, yes?”

His eyes snap open when he hears her question, his stomach lurching slightly and his mood dampening.

He ran away to Europe and drowned himself in alcohol, drugs, and women after Jo broke his heart, and he admits this.  Amy knows it, too.  And it’s not that he’s ashamed of that period of time, exactly - while he wishes he had, indeed, bore it better, he finds himself sympathetic to the plight of people scorned by love, however misguided that love might be.

He just doesn’t often talk about it.  Doesn’t like to.  In his mind and in his heart, it is only Amy.  Has always been, and always will be.

Amy doesn’t really like to talk about it, either.  He finds her inquiry curious, but answers anyway.

“Yes,” he tells her, although the word comes out sounding more like a question than an answer.

He waits for her to explain her line of thought, but she simply hums to herself.  He stares at the ceiling a moment longer, then leans up, resting his weight on his elbows.

She’s staring down at her drawing, her face just as he pictured it, pencil grasped between her lips as she swipes her thumb against the paper.  He watches as she takes the pencil out of her mouth and starts at it again, and he watches her for nearly a minute before opening his mouth to speak.

She beats him to it, though.

“Did you have any dalliances after me?” she asks.

He blinks hard as his brain reels for a moment, as he struggles to comprehend what she’s saying.  After her?  There is no after her.  There never will be.

Then, he stops.  Thinks.  She means...oh.  Oh.

She means after that time in the garden, in Paris.  When he’d first revealed his feelings for her, and she’d rejected him.  Left him standing there alone and feeling like an utter, hopeless idiot.

Oh.

He shifts on the bed, drops his eyes from her face.  He can feel his skin begin to flush from embarrassment.

They’ve never talked about this before.

Not that there’s much to talk about, he supposes.  He still hesitates to tell her - not because he fears she’ll be angry with him, but because he doesn’t like to talk about it.  If it were up to him, he would erase from his mind the memory of every woman he’d ever been with until only his wife remained.

But she’s asked, and he’ll be honest with her.

“One, I suppose,” he murmurs.

“You suppose?” she questions.  She’s still staring down at her artwork, but her pencil doesn’t move.

“Sort of, yes,” he confirms.

She finally looks at him, her eyebrows pulled together and a frown on her face.

“How do you sort of have a dalliance?”

She looks genuinely confused, and he laughs lightly at the crease between her brows, sits up fully and reaches out to her.  He cups her face and uses his thumb to rub at the wrinkle of skin.

“Shall I explain?” he asks her.

She nods.

“I...tried to be angry after you left.  Just think - to be turned down by not just one, but two March girls!” he gasps playfully, and she snickers, pushing against his shoulder playfully before dropping her hand to run over the sparse hair on his chest.

“But?” she prompts.

"But I couldn’t make myself angry.  Not at you.  But I also knew I couldn’t just stay there in France and watch you and Fred Vaughn…”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“We’re speaking of all your affairs, and you want to tease about Fred?”

“It’s part of my story!” he insists with a wink, and she rolls her eyes again.

“Well, keep telling it.”

He smiles, and continues.

“I couldn’t stay, so I did what you told me to.  I went to London, as you know.  And when I first got there, there was a woman staying at the same hotel as I was.  We got to talking one evening at dinner, and one thing…”

He trails off, feeling himself flush again.

“...led to another,” Amy finishes.  “I understand.  I don’t need the details.”

She’s frowning now, even though her fingers still run over his chest, and he despises it.  He has half a mind to drop the subject, to kiss her lips and make her happy and forget life before, but he can’t.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

“Laurie, I don’t need to hear any more.  You had your dalliance, I’m not upset, and we can stop - “

“I couldn’t do it,” he interrupts.  “It didn’t work.”

She pulls back from him slightly, her eyes wide and curious.  She looks down his body.

“You mean you couldn’t...?”

He follows her gaze, and then snorts.

“Not like that.  It - it didn’t even get to that.  Amy, my dear.”

He lifts her chin, and she gazes at him.  He can tell she’s still confused.

“Every time I closed my eyes,” he explains, “I saw you - the face you made in the garden before you turned away and left.  It broke my heart.  It still breaks my heart.  And when my eyes were open, all I could think about was how her skin wasn’t as soft and her hair wasn’t as fair and her eyes were brown instead of green and she just...wasn’t you.”

“But with Jo...”

“It was different with Jo.  I could make Jo into anyone.  I could always pick out the tiniest thing that reminded me of her, in any woman, and then pretend that woman was her.  I couldn’t...do that with you.  Or maybe I didn’t want to.  In any case, being with that woman didn’t make me forget.  She made me remember all the more.  And I only kissed her for about a minute before I realized it was worthless.”

He stops and grabs one of her hands, brings it to his mouth so he can kiss her fingertips, before holding it over his heart.

“And that’s when I knew that this was different.  You weren’t Jo, and I wasn’t going to be able to just...drink and fuck you away.”

She’d normally gasp and swat him playfully for his use of the coarse word, but now she stays silent and presses her hand more firmly against his chest.

“I was in love with you.  Hopelessly and completely.  And I realized that all I could do was stay in London and toil away and... pray that somehow you would change your mind.”

Then, everything had changed.  Beth died, and then he knew he had to be with her.  It didn’t matter if she despised him, or if Fred was there.  He needed to be with her.  But before that, he had been rather resigned to his fate - to work for his grandfather and forever pine after Amy March.

God had smiled upon him, though.  And now, here he sits with his wife, Amy Laurence.  Married, in love, and happy.

“So does that explain how one can have a single, sort-of dalliance?” he asks her.

But she stares at him, eyes shining, almost with tears.

“You were going to wait your whole life for me?” she whispers.

He smirks slightly, turning away from her and shrugging, somehow embarrassed.  But she grabs his face, turns it back to her, and locks their gazes.

“What else would you have me do, my lady?”

“Oh, my lord,” she breathes, and kisses him deeply, until his toes curl and he can feel himself begin to harden once again.  When she pulls away, they’re both panting.  He wants to grab her, to gather her up in his arms again, but her pad and pencil remains between them.

He motions to the picture.

“Still working on that, Raphaella?”

“Maybe later,” she remarks, taking the paper and all but throwing it on the floor beside the bed.  She pushes him back so he’s laying once again, and climbs on top of him, straddling his waist.  “I have another idea how we can pass time this afternoon.”

She leans down and kisses his smiling mouth.

Yes, God had smiled upon him.  Had given him back his love.  And he’s married, in love, and happy.

Achingly happy.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hello lovely mods! I was wondering if any of you could write a scenario where MC protects Piama from a jerk insult her flowers? And maybe afterwards MC compliments her? Thank you in advance! Love a wonderful week - Aquarius

The sun shone bright over the busy streets of Attadellys. An array of brilliant colors, flawlessly meshing together, as Spring seemed to blossom everywhere. The mood in the Spring Quarter was joyous with the recent coronation - warmly welcoming in their new Spring Queen.

"You'd think some of these people had never seen royalty before." Piama scoffed, holding her hand tightly in mine, as we weaved through the crowded cobblestone streets. "Ruelle, stay close and keep your eyes out for anything suspicious."

"I know how to do my job, Princess Flower Power, thank you." The whispered voice of Ruelle said from the other side of Piama. I laughed as I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. The slight blush to Piama's face only making me laugh harder.

"O-of course." She said, clearing her throat, as she averted her eyes from mine. "I meant no offense, Ruelle!"

She whispered the last part in flustered annoyance. Shaking my head with a chuckle, I placed a small kiss to the inside of Piama's wrist. I knew she would never admit her feelings for Ruelle to me, but I saw the way that they looked at each other. The stolen glances, the blush that spilled so beautifully across her warm skin, every time that Ruelle was close - and I knew I should be jealous - worried, even - but if there was anyone in Attadellys that I would share my love for Piama with, it would be Ruelle.

"Frost, Piama.. where is this place?" I groaned, her eyes cutting me short before I could say another word.

"Has being a Queen taught you no patience at all?" She replied with a smirk. "Does her majesty wish to retire already?"

I rolled my eyes, and gave her an exasperated look - swearing that just for a moment, I could hear a small chuckle coming from the direction of Ruelle.

"You are so very humorous Piama of the Spring. It's not my fault that you put me in the most uncomfortable shoes in all of Lysend!" I replied.

"Ah well, the shoes do make the dress, do they not?" Storm blue eyes tracing me over, as she gave me a heated smirk.

It was not an easy thing, to keep your composure, when dear Piama made you her main focus. The way her eyes seemed to study and learn every inch of you - like there was something just beneath the surface, that she wasn't quite seeing. It never failed to fluster me - to disarm me - to cause me to lose all train of coherent thought. She ran her fingers through the long tangles of her hair. The length of it cascading down her back, brilliant against her warm skin.

"Have I told you how much I like it when you wear your hair down like this?" I asked, taking a strand of her soft hair, and twisting it between two fingers.

"Only about a hundred times, yes." She replied, rolling her eyes - a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

I let out a sigh of relief, making sure to be as dramatic as possible, when we finally arrived at the shop that Piama had insisted we go to.

"Oh hush, Llewellyn! It did not take us that long to get here." She exclaimed, firmly swatting me on the arm before she took off towards a particularly beautiful dress. The sheer, white fabric, almost reaching the floor in the back, while the front would just barely covers Piama's thighs. The purple and yellow flower inlay that adorned the neckline, almost identical the ones in her hair.

"Slush, Piama.. You would look absolutely stunning in that." I said.

"That is the plan, my Queen." She replied with a smirk. "I have been staring at this dress for weeks, it seems like."

As she calls over the clerk, I immediately notice a shift in energy. The tall women's dark eyes, narrowing as they traced over Piama. Her lips almost perched, as she reluctantly made her way over to the dress.

"I would like to get this fitted, if you please."

The tall women just stood there for a minute, staring at Piama.

"In this span, preferably..." Piama added, giving me a look.

"Of course, Miss." The clerk finally answered, taking the dress off of it's stand.

"You might be more inclined to try something like this." A sharp voice from behind me, thick with judgment, rings through. A long arm holding out an extremely chaste style dress in Piama's direction.

"Apologies, but were we talking to you?" Piama snapped back, as I turned to face the person who had interrupted us. A tall woman, with hair as dark as Ruelle’s cloak, and green eyes that could cut their way through a moonless night, stood next to us. Her lips almost twisted into a snarl as she spoke.

"Obviously, you did not, and I am thankful for that, truly." She scoffed.

"Is there something that we can maybe help you with, then?" I asked the seemingly unpleasant woman.

"Yeah, like a stabbing." I heard Ruelle's sarcastic tone muttered under her breath.

"Oh, I was just looking at this dress your friend was planning on buying.. and well, I think we can all agree that this one here.. " She shoved the heavy fabric of the dress in our direction. ".. would suit her, and those unsightly flowers of her, much better. Do you not agree?"

I could feel a blush of embarrassment spilling over Piama's beautiful face without even looking at it. The woman's green eyes boring into her, waiting for a reply.

"And just what is that supposed to mean!" Piama barked back, her emotions starting to run high.

"It means, dear, that you look like a lost garden, that someone forgot to tend to." The woman laughed. "At least this dress, will help with mostly everything.. except for your face, that is."

I could see the tears welling up in sweet Piama's eyes, the vibrant flowers that so perfectly accentuated her warm skin, almost wilting at the harsh words. Anger surged through me like a tidal wave of fire. I clenched my fists, moving closer to Piama, as I took a deep steadying breath.

"Just who the frost do you think you are, speaking to her like that!?" I said, seething.

"Ha.. and just what's so special about her? Hm? Or you, for that matter" She rolled her eyes - her nose sticking straight up into the air, like a physical ailment of her own ignorance.

"Well I, for one, just happen to be Queen Llewellyn of Lysend... " I paused, watching as horror and realization began to paint it's way across the unpleasant woman's face. "And this.. this is Piama of the Spring. The Queen's consort, and my new wife."

I stood a little taller, justice flowing through me like a bolt of lightning.

"Oh.. I am.. so-!" I waved my hand firmly, cutting the woman’s words short.

"I could care less for your apologies, and even less for whatever excuse you'd deem to come up with."

"Y-yes, my Queen."

"And further more.. to answer your question - What makes her so special? The way her voice cracks slightly in the morning, when she's just woken up. How vulnerable she can be, when she’s finally let you into her beautiful soul. The brilliant way her skin flushes over, when I tell her how gorgeous she is. She's incredible - perfectly imperfect, in every way - A fierce and shining light in a world, that you insist on making darker, with your own ugly words."

I could feel my body shaking with anger. Ready to rip this woman apart right where she stood. Only stopping when I felt a shadow of a hand on my arm.

"That is enough for now, my Queen. Let us worry about getting Piama out of here." Ruelle's voice whispered behind me. "If she follows us, I will be more than glad to stab her. "

I gave a small nod, unable to help myself from smiling before clearing my throat.

"Now, I suggest you take you, and your opinions, back to wherever they came from."

"Yes, my Queen." The woman gave Piama one last sneering look, before bowing, and hurrying back to her friends.

"That lady was nothing but a rotting corpse." Ruelle spits out, causing Piama to laugh.

"T-truly."

I took Piama's hand in mine, bringing her attention back to me.

"Hey.. don't listen to a single word that closed minded slush-hole said about you. You are beautiful, Piama." I said, rubbing the back of hand across the supple part of her cheek. Her storm blue eyes slightly averting from mine, as she blushed.

"Th-thank you for saying so, Llewellyn... and thank you for sticking up for me. Ruelle and Lyris are the only one's who have ever done that before."

I placed a small kiss to the inside of her palm, before bringing her in for a hug. My arms wrapping tightly around her, only letting go when I felt her breath start to steady.

"I will always stick up for you, Piama. Always." I replied, as I pulled back, a fond smile on my face. 'Now, let's go buy this dress of yours, and head back to the palace. I'm famished, and the longer we stay out here, the greater chance we have of Ruelle stabbing someone."

"And for good reason." I heard come from the other side of Piama.

"That sounds like a very good plan, my Queen." Piama replied with a laugh, looping one of her arms around my own, the other resting on the empty space next to her. Her smile outshining the bright Spring sun itself, when we exited the shop. Three seasons blended imperfectly together - bonded by nothing more than fate, love, and friendship.

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Great Upheaval of Percy Weasley: Mirrors

Percy Weasley x OC

Summary: Defense Against the Dark Arts takes a turn for the worst.

Warnings: angst, fluff

MASTERLIST

mirrors -n- eyes that stare back haunt me, but when you join the reflection becomes clear.

***

Professor Lupin quickly became Elle’s favorite teacher. It wasn’t difficult when the rest of her favorites had raging flaws.

Professor Sprout was incessantly bubbly. She never had anything bad to say about anyone, ever. And while many students found that to be a blessing, Elle couldn’t stand it. Nothing said lack of a challenge like a teacher who never gave bad marks. Some days she messed up purpose, begging for a snap, but one never came. She was always full of sweet, encouraging words that never seemed to do Elle’s work justice. Her sole saving grace was that she allowed Elle to wander around the greenhouse after hours if only to understand her garden’s magical properties and the way they could be combined and altered.

Professor McGonagall cared far too much for technique and not enough about creativity. The lion for example, a beautiful display of transfiguration and she was being punished for it. Didn’t matter that no one had ever been able to accomplish that as sixth year, all that mattered was that her technique was off.

And it goes without saying Professor Snape hated her. The only teacher who managed to keep her challenged while still allowing for creativity hated her for the color of her tie. It’s not to say that in the beginning she didn’t try to make him love her work, and she had certainly succeeded, but that didn’t stop him from hating her every being.

Professor Lupin was the wonder of all three. Creative, challenging, and without the obsession of technique, plus he didn’t seem to hate anyone. Her certainly tolerated her and her temper towards her partner.

It didn’t matter that Percy kept her company in empty classrooms, she still wanted nothing more than embarrass in front of everyone who dared to watch. And as she walked into class that beautiful Wednesday morning that was all she had on her mind, beating Percy Weasley into the ground while wide blue eyes asked why.

However, that didn’t seem to be the plan for this particular Wednesday.

Desks were pushed to the sides and a large shaking wardrobe sat in the center.

Clouds were covering her Wednesday morning.

Percy fell into place beside her, a single finger drawing down her arm alerting her to his presence. She would have flinched a month ago, but a month ago she didn’t have the Head Boy touching her whenever he got close enough. There was no romance to it, neither them were stupid enough to fall for that, but it certainly was edging on addiction. When she had first suggested it she had assumed it was simply an attempt to keep her mind busy and to relieve herself of the incessant drive to kiss him again.

Instead of relieving she only wanted more, and from the number of times he had dragged her into the Restricted Section of the library he had once dubbed to pure, she was sure he was suffering from the same craving.

His finger never left her arm until Lupin stepped in from his office, and then he was back to being the perfect child. It was a good thing he did too, because when Lupin announced the creature hiding in that wardrobe, she might have ended anyone who touched her.

The dreaded Boggart.

She considered refusing, storming away and hiding until class was over. But that would be defeat, and she would let Percy Weasley face the thing he feared very most if she wasn’t going to do the same. That would be cowardice and just as her tie stated, she was not a coward.

Lupin reminded that it was just for fun, one last go around before he had it destroyed. There would be no grade, it was just a bit of relaxer, he assured them.

Elle felt anything but relaxed.

She made her way as close to the end as she could manage, head held high. She thought she had gotten past the lesson of Boggarts in her third year without a hitch. Quirrell was too much of a coward to bring live creatures into the classroom so it had been nothing more than bookwork and theory. Now the shaking wardrobe was standing before her, mocking her and Percy, who had somehow ended up behind her, was going to see her fail for the first time ever.

She gnawed her black nails as she drew closer to the front, biting off the carefully grown ends. Five people, then three, and then one. It turned into a ghost, and then as she cast the spell is dropped to the floor like a forgotten bedsheet. She closed her eyes and took a step forward, breathing deeply.

The sheet rose, a body forming beneath it and then with familiar fingers, it pulled the sheet away revealing something that was almost a mirror. She looked the way she should have, the way her mother would have liked it. Classic, a beige two-piece set, nude pumps, no eyeliner. She didn’t have braids, her mother hated those too. Instead it was let loose, long curls, she could imagine a ribbon tying them back She was longer, more fluid this way. And her grey eyes, the ones that always stared back at her in the mirror, were looking at her the same way she looked at Percy Weasley. Her mirror’s wand was out before she could react, and she was flying across the classroom into the desks that had been placed against the wall.

That dreaded fear of the what-could-have-beens. A stronger, more respected witch stared down at her, mocking her as she advanced. Elle yanked her wand out.

“R-riddikulus,” she stuttered, but there was no fun idea to trade out for the fear that kept inching closer. And then, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight Percy, watching with something that fell between terror and apt fascination. She uttered the spell again, determined to beat him, but her mirror kept advancing. “Riddikulus, Riddikulus, Riddikulus,” she screamed until someone stepped in front of her.

She thought it was Lupin at first, until her mirror image turned to Percy’s. The Head Boy stared down his mirror, and with only a slight tremor to his voice raised his wand and uttered the magical words. It dashed into a thousand pieces like she wished it had done for her.

Lupin was speaking but she couldn’t hear a thing. The blood rushing through her ears made her dizzy as Percy turned, and without a hint of arrogance helped her to her feet. She stumbled a little, catching his shoulder as she tipped forwards.

He caught his hand on her waist. It slid beneath her robe and to the small of her back, a small comfort.

“Meet me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” she gasped before pulling away and gathering her things. Lupin tried to talk to her, as did Dinah, but all she wanted to do was run, and that’s what she did. She relished in the sounds of her boots hitting the floor, grateful they weren’t heels.

How could she be so stupid?

She could already hear the rumors they would make about her. The first time she had encountered a boggart she had been eleven. She had whispered the same things to herself that they would whisper to each other. It hadn’t attacked her that first time, it hadn’t felt threatened, not when she terrified at the sight of herself climbing out of an old trunk. She thought she had been going crazy, she had cried to Madam Pomfrey for what seemed like hours, unable to articulate the sight. Eventually everything was explained, and she was excused to go to her room, but she had vowed to beat it, whatever it meant, the next she encountered a boggart it was going to be different.

It clearly wasn’t.

She ran a hand over a braid and charged into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, throwing her book bag against the wall, and staring into the mirror. That was who she wanted to see, this was her, not that preppy priss who managed to tower over her with a single raised eyebrow.

Her grey eyes were still lined with black liner and her hair was still tied in two long braids. That mirage was just that, an illusion that existed only within her mind. She punched the mirror, watching as it shattered upon impact. Carelessly, she watched her knuckles bleed before whirling around at the sound of a girlish laugh. Myrtle was peering over a stall, resting her head on her folded arms. Couldn’t she leave someone to angst in peace?

“Fuck off.”

“It’s my bathroom,” she reminded indignantly.

“Fine, I’ll leave.” She huffed and gathered the books that had spilled across the floor during her tantrum. Blood soaked onto the pages and she swore violently. Could this day really get any fucking worse? She slammed open the door again, ignoring the whispers of the girls who had watched her enter the bathroom in the first place.

“I’d be scared if I looked like that too,” one whispered and Elle rolled her eyes. Fucking fourth years. She allowed her gaze to meet the girl who had spoke and pulled out her wand.

“Want to say that to my fucking face?” The fourth year squeaked as she advanced. Elle was convinced she would have ruined those gossiping pricks entire week had Percy not walked around the corner looking for her.

“Elle!” She considered ignoring him but decided snogging in some dark corner would be better for her mood than removing femurs from insolent children. She sent them one last fiery glare before stalking towards Weasley.

If he wanted anything other than snog her, she was going to explode.

She followed him silently, itching to get her hands on that cocky ginger. The moment they turned the corner into an empty corridor, she pounced. He pulled her into a broom cupboard, locking it behind them as she attacked him with lustful ferocity. She ripped open his shirt, black nails raking along pale skin.

“Elle, you’re bleeding,” he muttered breathlessly.

“Fuck, sorry,” she swore. Truth be told, she had forgotten the moment he had stepped into view. She pulled out her wand to heal the cuts, but he had already beat her to it. With soft movements the cuts closed, and the stains disappeared until there was no evidence of the injury. She sucked in a deep breath as he watched her, already itching to kiss him again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as she grabbed him.

“No,” she mumbled against his lips, but he pushed her away, hands pressing against her shoulders. “Percy, I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She leaped forward again, but he shoved her against the wall. A mop or two clattered to the ground at the impact and she swallowed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, loosening his grip. She wished he hadn’t apologized. “It’s just, you’re not the only one who saw yourself today.” Elle blinked as she thought back to the moments when he had stepped in front of her. He had seemed without fear then, but now he was shifting nervously, unable to meet her eyes. She reached out and took his face more tenderly than she had anticipated. Blue met grey and her stomach rolled uncomfortably.

“Thank you,” she muttered before kissing him. That was uncharacteristically tender too. When she pulled away, he was smiling softly. “And I’m sorry I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Elle, I’m not saying you have to. I just want you to know you’re not the only one who had to face yourself today.” Behind sharp eyes, Elle could feel herself welling up. From the first time she had seen herself staring back she had felt like an enigma that couldn’t be solved. She had been a solitary being, but now Percy, who couldn’t be more different was the same. Her stomach turned again, and she nodded, quickly kissing him before he noticed the tears building in her eyes.

This time he didn’t try to push her away but pulled her closer. She dug her fingers through his hair and didn’t hesitate to respond as he wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing her up against the wall. Fingers slipped beneath her skirt, denting soft skin with hunger.

“Fuck,” she growled as he wrapped a braid around his fist, tugging it until her neck was exposed to soft lips and harsh teeth. She grabbed his shoulders, holding on tightly as he almost hesitantly nipped at her pulse. He ran his mouth up her neck and along her jaw, nipping at her ear until she was moaning his name. He found her lips again to quiet her soft whispers, catching the taste of his name leaving her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lowered her legs, pulling him tighter against her lips.

“Good talk,” he muttered when they pulled away for air and she laughed.

“Excellent talk, best one we’ve had yet.”

“Shall we talk some more?”

“McGonagall’s going to hang us.”

“I’ve already explained it to her. You’ve ran off and I’ve gone to check on you, it’s terribly tragic really,” he whispered, and she grinned before pressing herself against him once more.

“I knew I was snogging a genius.” And then they proceeded to talk much, much more.

Taglist: @andromedasstarship​ @danadeacon​

[lysissisyl]

A different world

This is the story I wrote for “The Goddess Messenger” zine.

___________________________________

The war had ended. Edelgard had only planned until then. Part of her probably didn’t even expect to survive it, at least not as Edelgard. Even if she won, even if she lived, the Emperor would have lived. She would have taken care of the reforms needed to truly reach her goals, she would have made sure no one ever faced what she had to face. She would have been the leader Fodlan needed, until she wasn’t needed anymore. Emperor and the justice they embodied. (She was born a rebel and she was now dealing with that herself, as ironic as it sounded.)

She was sitting in her study, a pile of unsigned documents to her right, the pile of the signed ones to her left definitely too high for the edge of dawn. According to her schedule, she was expected to sit there until lunch, reading letters, drafts of decrees and laws, spies reports, nobles’ complaints... She looked out of the window and sighed. It was such a nice day... In a different world, in a different life, she could have been having tea in the gardens with Byleth or seeing her laugh because she was putting too much effort choosing her outfit to go to the opera and wondering what flowers Dorothea would have liked the most. She shook her head. In another life she would have more probably been dead or in chains again. She shivered at the thought. Who knew, perhaps Dimitri would have ruled over Fodlan and people would have called her a tyrant. Byleth would have had a role in the church, under Rhea’s guidance. Another sigh. This wasn’t a different world, this wasn’t a different life. Luckily. She would have read and signed 3000 more boring papers to know she was going to see Byleth’s smile in the evening, the love in her eyes... She clenched her fists. What was wrong with her? She was prepared to walk that path alone, to fight alone, to sit in that study alone in the best scenario, to die alone in the worst. And now? Now she couldn’t stand an entire morning alone. No, she couldn’t stand an entire morning without Byleth. It wasn’t just about focusing. Of course her thoughts ran to her given the smallest chance. She was annoyed, but it was also comforting somehow. The problem was the tight knot in her stomach, the cold that made her shiver and shake sometimes, even with the fireplace just a few feet away. The problem was that painful feeling that made her crave for her voice, her smile, even just a moment of her presence. She felt like screaming. She signed another paper. Sure Ferdinand could call his school “the Von Aegir foundation for equal opportunities and enlightenment”. She took the paper back: maybe it would have been better to submit it to Hubert... Byleth would have found it funny. She laughed now. She wanted that laugh... She took the paper again, crumpled it in a ball and threw it in the fire. She could deal with one damn morning! But it was every morning. It had been every morning from the day she had realized Byleth had chosen to walk with her. And she rationally knew that didn’t mean they were going to be together all the time. She was totally fine with that. Each of them had things to take care of. She would have never asked anything like that. But...every time she wasn’t there, that feeling came back. And she hated herself for that. She could feel her eyes burning. Right, another thing that had changed. She remembered how to cry now. That didn’t mean she had any intention to. Luckily, because she heard the door opening a moment later. She hadn’t heard a knock, but she was...distracted. And Hubert didn’t always knock. Nor did Ferdinand. Or Caspar. Too many people didn’t fucking knock. But most of them weren’t up that early in the morning, except for Hubert, who could either be already up or not yet asleep. She sat straight on the chair, ready to discuss any urgency that had presented. To her surprise, it wasn’t Hubert coming in, but Byleth. “Weren’t you going to train? You love the training grounds at dawn, because they’re all yours. Did something happen?” But she was smiling. “Why are you here? We were supposed to meet for lunch.” Byleth slipped her weight on the other feet, pensive, then shrugged. “I missed you.” All the tears Edelgard had been holding came out, her solemn posture turned into stiffness, then breaking completely and letting her collapse on the chair and desk.

“El?” Byleth was confused. Emotions were still unfamiliar to her, something she struggled to unravel. She knew she had gotten better in those few months, but this reaction was something she couldn’t comprehend. Did she say anything wrong? Did she make Edelgard sad? She remembered crying when she was in pain, the day her father died and she remembered Edelgard crying when she thought she was dead. She moved carefully, sitting on the chair in front of her. “Did I cause you pain?” Edelgard’s eyes met hers, while she partially regained control. “No. No. You chase the pain away, my love. The pain and cold.” Byleth turned to the fireplace, already half standing, with the clear intention of starting a fire that was already going. Another small way to love her. But it wasn’t the sight of the fire that stopped her, it was Edelgard’s hand, grabbing hers. “Stay...” She was smiling, but there was a need in her eyes. She looked away an instant later and let go hesitantly. “Apologies.” “What for?” “I’m truly not myself today. Feel free to go back to your training and errands.” Byleth tilted her head in the way she often did when she was pondering something. “Why?” “Because it isn’t fair to as otherwise. It’s...selfish.” Byleth looked at her again, giving her another confused look. “But I want to stay.” Edelgard laughed, a small laugh, but her voice was clearly cracking again. No tears though, just her eyes sparkling for a moment. Then she looked at the papers and her attitude changed. Her posture stiffened, she grabbed the sheet on top and sighed. “Will you stay with me while I work then?” Byleth looked at her for a long moment. She was in control again, but she could see her lower lip tremble slightly from time to time, her grip on the paper a little too strong. In her mind she looked like an overzealous rookie who kept swinging their sword for days, until their hands were so in blisters they couldn’t even hold it anymore. “You need a break.” “I need to work.” “Is there anything urgent among those papers?” “If anything was urgent, Hubert would report it or bring the documents to me personally.” “Then you don’t need to work.” “I worked everyday from dawn to sunset since the war started. No, it’s been much, much longer.” “You definitely need a break.” “You’re not listening. I’m used to it. I know I can do it. I just need you here. I can’t waste an hour.” “I wasn’t thinking about an hour.” Edelgard smiled. “Then I suppose I can take a few more minutes.” “I was thinking about a day.” Edelgard froze. “A day?” Foolish. She couldn’t. She needed every minute to study and sign all those papers before the end of the day. She had responsibilities. She had...very intrusive thoughts of her and Byleth drinking tea in the gardens, eating cookies, chatting and smiling. It was such a nice day... Maybe it could be a different world, just for today... “El...?” It. Wasn’t. A. Different. World. “I wish it was...” “What?” “I wish it was a different world, a world I can spend the day with you, relaxing and having fun, drinking tea and laughing together. I wish, but I have to take care of it all, I must. I can do it now, so I must.” Another image came to Byleth’s mind. Edelgard dealing with reports during the war, messengers running back and forth, reports held by bloody hands, men and women and children risking their lives for words to reach her. She stayed up at night to read and study everything, send replies. Everyday she wasn’t fighting or studying strategies, she was reading and writing papers, the silent side of the war people always forget. Some days sleeping was a luxury she couldn’t afford, because someone else needed orders, because a new territory needed laws, because she had treaties and negotiations ongoing. She understood. “You can now, you can tomorrow. El, there won’t be a battle forcing you to postpone it, there won’t be an assassination interruption, a fire burning your documents down. “This is another world: the world you dreamed of, the world we fought for, the world we created together. The war has ended.” “The war has ended.” Edelgard repeated those words, as a reminder, as something to cling to. She felt lost. She had kept thinking, acting as it hadn’t, because she didn’t know what else to do. But the war had ended. “So...what now?” “Whatever we want.” Edelgard just stared back at her, the vastness in those words both beautiful and scary. Byleth could see it, she could feel it. “What do you want today, El?” An easier question. She still felt stupid answering. “I want to go to the gardens, enjoy the cool air, drinking tea and eating sweets with you.” Stupid. The first thing the mighty emperor could think of was tea and cookies, a child’s desire. “I’ll ask for everything to be prepared.” “Ask?” Edelgard raised her eyebrow. “This sure is a change. I was starting to worry a lot of people in the palace would have started complaining about not being able to do their job anymore.” Byleth giggled. “I usually prefer to do most things by myself, exactly like you do, but I told you, El: I want to stay.” She paused. “I’m still going to brew the tea myself, though. I have my limits.” Edelgard laughed.

Edelgard loved the way Byleth brewed her favorite bergamot tea. Ferdinand could go on rambling about times and temperatures as long as he wanted to (he sure did more than once), but Byleth had sort of a natural talent for making tea. If she wasn’t so rational, she would have said she could taste the love. She let her pour some in her cup, then watched her while she got some in her own. There was a calm, a comfortable calm in Byleth’s way of handling tea that had always fascinated her. There was a gentleness in her gestures so unusual for a mercenary... Now she knew that gentleness well. She smiled, a silent thank you, took a cautious sip. It was hot, but not enough to burn. She could feel the warmth spreading on her body, forcing her shoulders to relax. Byleth’s tea was the most similar thing to a hug she knew. Her voice was as gentle and warm now. It made her feel like purring.  “I understand, El.” Byleth leaning forward, fingers gently caressing her cheeks, another kind of warmth. Soothing... Edelgard closed her eyes for a moment, absorbed by that lingering feeling. Then a serious note joined the sweet kindness in Byleth’s voice and she focused on it again. “New beginnings aren’t easy. Even when they are nice, even when things change for the better, even when there is hope and happiness awaiting, when you reach them after a long fight...new beginnings aren’t easy. Your mind has to learn to believe, it has to learn to let go, to relax. There is a difference between knowing that things will be alright and feeling it. “You saw me running to you, sword in hand, because I heard a noise, even if I knew the palace was safe; the other day I almost hit a kid playing a prank on me in the streets, then I had go back to the market, because I hadn’t bought anything that wasn’t dry and easy to preserve while traveling. My brain momentarily forgot I have a home now. And...sometimes, when my emotions are stronger than usual, when you smile to me in the morning and I’m still half asleep and my heart races... I freeze for a moment, because I forgot it bites now. I do understand, El.” She did. She always did... “Can we do this every day?” Childish. “A free day?” Byleth teased her. She blushed and stuttered. “You know that’s not what I meant. The tea. A moment for tea. A break. Sharing.” “We can, El. This or anything you desire. You don’t need to plan. You can, but you don’t need to. You can think about what you want everyday. Tea, walking in the gardens, a game of chess, sitting in front of the fireplace, hand in hand. Just something you want, every day, small precious things.” “Small precious things...and days off when I need them...reaching out when I need you...” She bit her lip: she didn’t mean to say it out loud. Byleth smiled. “Good girl, El. And remember that when you fought for everyone’s future you fought for yours too.” Edelgard wanted to say ‘thank you’, but it didn’t seem enough. She moved slowly, resting her head against Byleth’s chest, listening to that beating heart... A new beginning. Together.

[julemmaes]

“If I go on a date with you, will you bring the dog from your profile picture?” for Rowaelin or Elorcan maybe? 🙂

Puppies - October 15th

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre

A/N: I think I’m running a fever and I’m pissed cause it’s not the ideal right now, don’t you all think? But still, I wanted to post this and PP chapter 6, but I cannot for the love of god try and translate that too, so I hope I can do it for tomorrow, in the meantime enjoy this fluffy/cute thing since I’m always giving you just angst.

Enjoy:)

Oh and I think I’m gonna write a part two to this, just like for the Rowaelin one when I get the time and I finish every prompt. Also, again, I’m sorry if this is taking so fucking long, I do understand it’s December and this thing is called October Something so yeah

Word count: 3,883

Lorcan could not get over the fact that a beautiful girl like Elide had agreed to go out with him. Or rather, he could not understand how a beautiful girl like her had asked him out on a date.

A hint of panic crept into his mind, causing his smile to waver when he remembered his best friend's mocking words. "She didn't ask you out, she just wants to see your dogs." Rowan had joked when he had explained why he was taking the dogs for a walk dressed so elegantly.

Lorcan had eyed his black skinny and his beige sweater with an arched eyebrow, feeling sorry for Aelin if Rowan thought that outfit was elegant. He told him he had to meet a girl and his friend demanded to see some photos and Lorcan knew he would never let him out until he pulled out her tinder profile.

Rowan had opened his eyes wide in front of Elide's black-haired, pearly-skinned beauty, then burst out laughing, slamming his hand on his back and telling him he didn't stand a chance with someone like that.

Now, as he walked with Opal by his side with Maya pulling them both way too excitedly, he felt the anxiety grow with every step.

They had exchanged numbers almost immediately and talked for a week, sending pictures of what they were doing and eating, and when Elide had sent him a picture of a meat plate with rice, he had asked her where she was. She had gone out with some friends to her favorite restaurant in town and from there a conversation about their favorite places had started and Lorcan had mentioned that he should try the dish she had ordered, because it was as if he could smell it through the phone. At that point Elide had told him that she would gladly accompany him and Lorcan, like the idiot he was, had asked her if she was serious and she had sent him a message: "If I go on a date with you, will you bring the dogs from your profile picture?"

He had grinned like an idiot, happy to know that she didn't think they were vicious beasts. His two little dogs, two sisters, had entered his life when they were only a few weeks old and now he couldn't imagine his life without them, but sometimes it was difficult to convince other people, especially strangers, that they weren't aggressive and wouldn't tear them to pieces.

They had decided to meet at the Gardens of Orynth so that his two pitbulls could run a little bit free, instead of having to walk around the city with muzzles all the time and Elide had sent him a short video of her jumping happily at the idea of meeting him.

He was looking around for the girl, when he heard someone calling for him and his head snapped in the direction of the Turtle Fountain.

He opened his eyes wide, chuckling in dismay when he realized that Elide was dressed almost exactly like him. A beige sweater tucked on the front of her black pants, torn at the knees, which did absolutely no justice to the legs he had seen her show on her tinder profile. Even the shoes were the same, simple black lumberjack ankle boots, years old in appearance. The only thing differentiating them was the religiously black jacket she wore, which enveloped her figure perfectly.

That moment of distraction in which he admired her cost him the grip on Maya's leash, which with a sudden snap managed to pull him forward and free herself. The pitch black dog ran up to the girl and Elide smiled widely, crouching on the ground and opening her arms. The little dog immediately started to welcome her, licking her face and getting up on her hind paws, scratching her legs with those in front.

Lorcan cursed loudly and ran towards them, Opal looked up at him for a moment, starting to toddle next to him a second later, to keep up.

"Hello you beautiful," Elide was saying, rubbing her hand on the dark fur, "you must be Maya." When the dog started whining, wagging her tail even more, she giggled, "Yes, it's you."

Lorcan was sincerely surprised by the scene, but when Elide looked up, smiling at him with bright eyes, he remembered that he should speak. "I'm so sorry, normally I can hold her." He apologized, scratching the back of his neck.

She shrugged, "Don't worry about it." Then she went back to the dogs, extending her hand to Opal, who seemed just as excited as Maya, but sat next to him.  When she sniffed Elide's hand without approaching, she stood up and Lorcan saw with horror that she had mud marks on her pants. He felt himself blush, "Fuck, I'm sorry," and then she handed him Maya's leash, shaking her head. He touched her hand and his brain short-circuited.

"Don't worry," she said smiling and showing her teeth, "really." she repeated when Lorcan glared at the dog. Then she tilted her head to the side, "Hi."

Lorcan smiled in turn, looking at her. God, she was so beautiful.

"Hi."

She leaned towards him, leaving a light kiss on his cheek and immediately returning to her place, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, "I like the way you are dressed, excellent choice."

He was dumbfounded for a moment by her spontaneous gesture. Not that no girl had ever kissed his cheek, but her lips had been so soft and warm against his skin and at the same time so confident and solid. He quickly recovered, pointing to her clothes, "Yes, I must say that your taste is impeccable too."

She smiled at him, shifting her gaze to the dogs for a few seconds, then those black puddles locked on him, "So, how's your day going so far?"

Maya kept circling around her and Opal seemed less and less uncomfortable, her ears now low and her tail moving slightly behind her. The most excitement she would show for a stranger, Lorcan knew. But he was still happy that she was not hiding behind his legs.

He grinned at her, "Very well, I was looking forward to going out with a certain girl," he joked.

Elide snickered, looking him in the eye, "Yes, I was quite excited to meet this new friend of mine too." Then she turned to the dog pen - a huge section of the park reserved for animals, so that people wouldn't bother them while they too were running free. "Shall we go there?" she asked, pointing with one hand.

Lorcan nodded, urging the puppies to walk.

The second he released the leash to both of them, the dogs snapped forward, starting to run in the area. The two of them sat down on a bench just right by the fence and when he turned towards her, Elide was giving him a bright smile.

"What?" he asked her, arching an eyebrow.

She shrugged, "Nothing," she muttered, "I just thought you'd be a lot more chatty, you know."

Lorcan felt himself blush again. It was true, by message and the few times they had called each other, Lorcan had talked a lot and there had never been a second he hadn't had his line ready, but now it was almost as if he no longer had the ability to have a normal conversation. He gave her a frustrated look, "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," she giggled and Lorcan felt his chest tighten to that sound. She turned to the dogs when she heard Opal barking and he was breathless when her smile widened even further, seeing the silvery dog running in their direction, "What did you do this morning that was so important that you couldn't answer me?"

He forced his body to relax under her inquisitive eyes, "I had to convince my roommate that calling a plumber to fix the toilet was a much better idea than trying to solve the problem on our own and-". Lorcan puffed, passing a hand through his hair, "Sometimes he can be difficult."

Elide became pensive, "Are you talking about Rowan?"

He nodded, surprised that she remembered the name of his best friend.

"If it's any consolation, my roommates are headstrong too," she said as she opened her eyes wide, "and most of the time it's just as hard as childbirth to have someone else help us around the house," she sighed, "Asterin drives me crazy, too, for other reasons."

Lorcan raised an eyebrow, asking tentatively, "How come?"

He had heard about her roommates, Asterin and Manon, only a couple of times and Elide hardly ever answered his messages when the two girls were present, she always found an excuse to end the conversation.

Initially, Lorcan had thought that Elide simply wanted to spend time with them, but the more days passed the more she avoided him when they were home. He started to think that she didn't want them to know that she was talking to a loser like him, which hurt him more than it should. He was used to people avoiding him on the street and judging him too soon because of his grumpy attitude and the grimace always present on his face, but Elide had found out more about him than any other person had ever done in twice the time and he believed there was a connection between the two of them.

Perhaps it was not the same for her.

When she took a while to respond, he looked closely at her, seeing that she was biting her lip.  Maybe he shouldn't have asked. He should have left it alone.

Before he could tell her that they didn't need to talk about it, she said, "She always brings new people home and" she made a noise that sounded more like a grunt than a laugh, "I have absolutely nothing against having a different partner every night," she said.

Lorcan stiffened beside her and saw her eyes open wide. Now that he thought about it, she was hardly ever free in the evening to call him or to stay on face time.

She carried her hand to her mouth, snorting, "Oh God, I didn't mean it that way -" she stopped, "I don't do- I never- Shit." She cursed out loud and took a deep breath, "I meant Asterin is big and vaccinated and can do whatever she wants, I'd just rather she was less noisy." she concluded sighing and carrying a hand to her chest.

Lorcan looked at her gently, "You know," he offered to comfort her, "there would be nothing wrong with it if you had a-" he choked on his words and coughed, "a different partner every night."

The idea disturbed him more than expected. Not because he saw such a thing as distasteful - he, too, had had his golden days when he was younger by Rowan's side - but because the idea of someone else touching Elide as he had only once dared to dream about, gave him chills.

She looked at him carefully, frowning, and he had to shift his gaze to the dogs because he couldn't stand the emotion on her face. He could not decipher it.

He spoke in a low voice when he said, "But I'm not looking for something temporary or a fling, Elide." he gave her a thoughtful look, letting her see the sincerity in his eyes, "I'm quite tired of the occasional stories I find myself in every time."

His mind went straight to Maeve and a shiver ran down his spine.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, she was smiling, "I've never dated anyone, Lorcan," she whispered, as if she was afraid of his reaction. Her hand slipped away from his body and he missed that touch immediately, "I'm serious." Then she grimaced, "I've never even had a boyfriend, but that's a story for another date. Definitely not for our first time out."

Lorcan studied her carefully as Opal approached them and let herself be pampered by Elide. Maya somewhere playing with the other dogs.

She seemed upset and if the deep frown between her eyebrows was not enough to let him realize it, her bouncing leg confirmed his doubts.

Whatever they would talk about that night, neither of them would bring up the subject of relationships, and he felt relieved, if only slightly.

"I didn't want to meddle in your affairs, I just wanted to make it clear that I don't want anything casual." he bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees and crossing his fingers.

He was surprised when she murmured, "Neither do I."

He threw a stunned smile over his shoulder and she took a deep breath. Then she chuckled, scratching behind the dog's ears and making her mumble, "And not to mention Manon." She closed her eyes and dropped her head backwards, without letting go of her grip on Opal's snout, "That girl will be the end of me."

This time he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"She's been dating a guy for years and it seems like their fucking honeymoon phase never ends." she grunted, "Between the two of them I don't know which one makes me feel worse about my non-existent sex life."

Lorcan laughed, covering his face with his hands. He liked how comfortable she was talking about such things with him. All the girls he had dated up to that point had been uneasy just because he used bad words in his daily life, but Elide seemed to use them in turn, so she certainly wouldn't dump him and tell him she couldn't be with a longshoreman.

He leaned against the backrest, extending an arm behind her and maybe it was his imagination or maybe not, but it seemed to him that Elide moved closer to him. "I feel you, Rowan and Aelin, his girlfriend, are the loudest couple I know and it's so agonizing sometimes that I have to go to sleep at our neighbors' house. And even there I can still hear them, but at least I can fall asleep." she looked at him amused and shocked at the same time, "They have been our friends for years too," he explained quickly.

Elide nodded, "I have no neighbor to seek shelter from."

He caressed her shoulder lightly, "You can always camp in my living room, they tell me that the sofa is very comfortable."

She laughed, "Thank you," then looked at him, licking her lower lip, "I will consider your offer the next time Dorian or the stranger number two thousand will be our guest."

They didn't notice Maya running towards them until a big heavy black hairy ball threw itself between the two of them and Elide let go a noisy breath, laughing, when the dog gave her a muzzle against her chest with all her strength.

"Maya!" Lorcan scolded her, gasping. The dog wagged his tail on their legs, hitting them both in the face as she turned to lick his face first and then hers. Lorcan tried several times to push her away to prevent her from ruining Elide's light makeup, but the girl didn't seem to care at all and when Opal got on the bench, laying her snout on her leg, Lorcan gave up completely.

They played for more than half an hour with the dogs, even getting up at a certain point to throw sticks and balls and when the sun began to set, Elide turned towards him, short of breath for the various races made to chase the dogs, "What do you say if we head towards the restaurant?"

Lorcan sniffed, trying to catch his breath, "I'd love to."

Putting the leashes back on Maya and Opal, Elide asked him if she could carry one. He didn't even think as he passed her Opal's. Surely if he had let her carry Maya, it would have ended badly and she would have fallen over and he didn't feel like finishing the night in the emergency room at all.

They were walking along the perimeter of the park and Maya was pulling as usual, dictating the pace and Lorcan tried as much as possible to pull her back so they wouldn't have to run, but it seemed impossible.  He tried to slow down every time Elide started talking and by the sixth time she had to stop mid-sentence to catch her breath, Lorcan wondered if everything was alright.

At one point, she had taken his hand and now, while they were talking about this and that, he was trying not to squeeze her fingers too hard every time he had to squeeze the leash. The gesture was a spontaneous reaction of his body.

When Maya made them speed up one more time, Elide whimpered and stopped talking, stumbling slightly in her footsteps. Opal turned around in a flash towards her, stopping a few steps in front of them.

Lorcan halted, taking his hand away from Elide's and turning completely towards her. Her breath was wheezing and her forehead was sweating and he could see she was suffering. Panic poured into his stomach.

"El," he murmured that nickname silently, opening his eyes wide in front of her pained expression, "what is it?"

He, too, had been out of breath, but it was already twenty minutes they were walking along quietly, and even though Maya seemed to want to give them a slimming workout, she shouldn't have been so tired.

She closed her eyes, shifting her weight to her left leg and jerked, grunting, "It's nothing." she breathed, looking at him with blurred eyes, "Don't worry," she smiled slightly.

Nothing-

"I shouldn't worry?" he put his hand on her arm, pushing her gently toward a bench nearby, "It looks like you're about to die." the fear was clear in his voice. Elide held back another groan, but Lorcan heard her gasp under his grasp. "Are you having an asthma attack?"

He said the first thing that came to his mind and was surprised to hear Elide giggling beside him.

The second she sat down, her expression changed completely and she seemed to relax. She stretched her right leg forward and his eyes fell on her ankle. Only then, with her pants pulled up slightly and her shoe shifted, did he see the scars that marked her skin. He held his breath.

When he met Elide's gaze again, she had a guilty grimace on her face.

"I'm sorry," she murmured to him.

Lorcan shook his head, closing his eyes, "Sorry, mh, why are you apologizing?"

Elide sighed, passing her hand over her face, "Normally I can walk on it for more than an hour without any problem, but with running before and Maya pulling now, I think I strained it too much and it's really hurting me." In the meantime she had leaned forward, her hands stretched out on her leg while she was massaging her calf going further and further down towards her ankle.

He sat down next to her, making sure that both dogs were sitting on the opposite side of her, so as not to risk worsening her already difficult situation.

He didn't know what to say, too many questions were going through his head.

"Why didn't you tell me? We could have taken a cab or we could have met directly at the restaurant," he told her, putting his hand on her back when, touching the swollen part of her ankle, she whined.

Elide looked at him from under her eyelashes, "Because guys normally don't want to go out with cripples. Or a girl with a cane." Then she turned down again, "And I really wanted to go out with you tonight."

It warmed Lorcan's heart, but he was still annoyed that he made her think he was that kind of person and that she didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth - or hide it from him. Then he felt sick at the thought of how many more times Elide had had to face that conversation and who knows how many more times someone had told her that they were no longer interested after finding out the truth.

He swallowed, choosing his next words wisely, "I don't care if you have scars or if you have difficulty walking without support, Elide." He told her sincerely, "I understand why you didn't tell me, but I'd rather you didn't hide these things from me from now on."

He would not ask her questions about how or why her leg was damaged in such a way.

Elide sat up, covering her face with her hands, "Do you think you could slow Maya down a little bit?" the sound muffled by her fingers, "The restaurant is right on that street." she pointed out a road only a hundred meters ahead. Then she looked at him and her eyes were shiny and Lorcan's throat tightened.

"Are you alright?"

He immediately regretted the question. It was obvious she wasn't.

It didn't seem to bother Elide in the slightest. She nodded, then moved her foot in a circular pattern, biting her lower lip so hard that Lorcan thought she was going to tear it off. "Yes, I'm fine," she said with wheezing breath.

Lorcan looked at her with worried eyes, "You don't look well though."

Elide stared at him taking deep breaths, "Because the bones in my ankle are rubbing against each other and I have no water behind me to take painkillers," she said honestly, "But I can make it to the restaurant and on the way back I'll take a cab or call Manon or Asterin to pick me up."

Lorcan looked at her and then the restaurant, then her again, "Are you sure you can make it?"

"What other options do I have?" she smiled at him.

He nodded, "You're right."

She sighed and put her forehead over his shoulder. It seemed so familiar to Lorcan that he risked tearing the skin off his face so quickly he smiled.

"Can we rest for five minutes?" she asked him in a tired voice.

Lorcan put his arm around her shoulders and held her closer, feeling brave and kissing her temple, "We can rest all night as far as I am concerned."

Elide made a verse of approval and when Lorcan looked at her, he noticed that her eyes were closed and although she still had a sweaty forehead and a grieving expression, she was smiling.

They sat down for more than five minutes and only when Elide was able to take more than five steps without flinching, Lorcan decided that they could go to the restaurant. An arm tied around her hips to support her and the two leashes tightened in his free hand.

He did not know for what grace of God, but even Maya seemed to have realized the situation, and had slowed down her pace drastically, trotting alongside Opal undisturbed.

Inay, the owner of the place, had made them sit inside, near the large window overlooking the river, and there, Elide and Lorcan enjoyed the first of a thousand other dinners they would share.

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