#i shit you not i started him last night and its not even noon and hes done

[hardrockshrimp]

I hope the jermites enjoy this

[kingkat12]

fuck you (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, angry sex, oral sex, extremely foul language, angst, toxic relationship, accidental creampie, reader should run

summary: being in a relationship with Roman Godfrey has its perks, but is he really telling the truth?

word count: 5,304

a/n: this is part 2 of long legs (link here), enjoy!! wrote this over a span of three hours because this idea has been stuck in my head lol

I didn’t take Roman for a liar until recently. 

Because up until now, everything had been perfect these past few months; I’d spend every Saturday at his place, sleeping next to him, having breakfast with him, and then taking our routine stroll through Clifford Park just for the shits and giggles. I loved that more than anything in the world— At one point, I had to stand on the look-out for park patrols, holding my laugh while he etched our initials into the lamp we had stood beneath that night we became official. 

Our time together had been incredible so far. He had taken me out on elaborate dinners, and then refused to let me get out of bed the next morning before twelve because of his new ‘closeness-rule’; “I’m not detaching from you until noon,”

And who was I to say no? Especially not when it felt this good.

Now that I had his undivided attention, was the centre of all his affection and his designated person to call at midnight, I felt like I was floating. 

Up until last week.

Roman had showed up on my front door with his signature smirk to pick me up for dinner, dressed in his classic Armani suit, hair styled back. “Ready to go?”

I couldn’t help but smile, getting up on my tippy-toes to kiss his cheek— I was always so damn happy to see him. “Yeah, I just have to grab my shoes. Come in,”

A soft blush became apparent in Roman’s cheeks, stepping into my apartment as I disappeared back into my room. “The place is right around the corner, so don’t stress,” 

“Yeah, I know!” I said from the other room, rummaging through my collection of shoes. “We could stay at my place tonight, actually, so we don’t have to grab a cab to yours! Thoughts?”

Roman hummed, leaning against the wall in the hallway. Something told me he wasn’t so into that idea.

I stopped in my tracks, grabbing a pair of shoes before I came back out. "... No?”

Roman ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a slight chuckle. “I don’t know, I just… I like my bed,”

I couldn’t help but feel confused, but I brushed it off— maybe this was just a Roman quirk I hadn’t seen yet? It was probably not that deep. Right? Shrugging, I put on my shoes, grabbing my keys and my purse on the dresser. “Alright...? Cab fare’s on you, then, because I lent the rest of my spare cash to a friend earlier—“

In a swift motion, Roman snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him as I yelped in surprise. He let out a warm chuckle at the look on my face, leaning down to capture my lips in a sweet kiss. “Either we get going now, or I eat you for dinner. I’m fucking starving,”

Giggling, I pulled him in for another kiss. “Fine. I’ll be dessert, then,”

Roman let out a satisfied sigh against my lips, excitement shimmering in his green eyes as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the apartment.

However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something weird was going on. As he led me through the restaurant with a hand on my back, I realized this was the moment where the wheel in my head had started to turn. Even as we sat down to eat, the question of why he didn’t want to stay over at my place started gnawing at me. 

I had all my things at my place— My makeup, my shampoo against frizz, my clothes. I always had to walk around with my stuff if I was planning to sleep over at Roman’s place, feeling a bit like a nomad because... he hadn’t given me a drawer at his place yet. 

The mind-wheel continued to turn; why hadn’t he offered me a drawer? We had been official for months. For a man that was so damn adamant about being okay with a committed relationship, the more I thought about it, the more I started to see the cracks in the facade. Was he inadvertently telling me he didn't want to be in a commitment anymore?

Roman’s voice brought me back to reality; “What?”

Fuck. Had I been so swept up in my thoughts? “Pardon?”

“You’re not saying anything,” he said, putting his elbows on the table as he leaned forward. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

This is where my guilt started gnawing at me as well. Why was I even thinking these thoughts about the sweetest boyfriend I had ever had? “Oh, nothing, just...” And suddenly, it dawned on me that there was one thing that would ease my mind about this issue; “Just wondering if you’d want to meet my friends soon. I’ve met some of yours, but you’ve never met any of mine.”

Roman’s eyes widened slightly— I wouldn’t have caught it if I wasn’t watching his reaction like a hawk. With a chuckle, he pulled away from the table, wrapping his long, slender fingers around the cutlery once more; “I’ve met your friends,”

“Only in passing,” I mumbled, reaching out for my glass of water. “I’d like them to know the man I’ve been talking about for months. And I think you’d like them.”

Roman nodded, turning rather quiet. Something about it made my pulse quicken.

“Okay,” he eventually said. “I’ll meet your girls.”

I let out a shaky breath of relief, sipping my water with a bright smile on my face. Maybe I was just overthinking this, as always? “What do you say about next week?”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

And next week rolled along— today was the day. I had told my girls that Roman said yes to meeting them at our favourite bar downtown, and I was now checking my makeup in the elevator up to his penthouse. I couldn’t wait for them to finally get to know the man I was so crazy about, because honestly? I was dead tired of having to defend our relationship to them.

And I also didn’t like that it was starting to sound like they were right about him all along.

As the elevator doors opened and I knocked at the entrance, I held back a jump of excitement— I couldn’t wait. However, my excitement quickly died down when Roman opened the door, dressed in…

A white t-shirt and his pyjama pants?

At first, I let out a short chuckle, leaning up to give him a kiss. “Rome, get dressed! Silly man,” I made my way past him, putting away my stuff on the dresser nearby. “We’re supposed to meet my friends in, like, twenty minutes!”

The sigh Roman let out had my heart dropping in seconds. “Yeah, about that...” Something about the dead expression on his face gave me a hint about his next words; “Is it okay if we take a rain check? I don’t really feel like going anywhere tonight.”

My smile fell. “... Are you serious?”

Roman shrugged, reaching out to pull me into a hug, leaning his head on top of mine. “Well, they’re your friends, I think they’ll be fine if you just show up,"

I didn’t hug him back— I stood still, holding back the urge to push him off of me. “But... you didn't even have work today,”

“So?” Roman kissed the top of my head, stroking through my hair. Was he perhaps hoping that the affection would dull my disappointment? “It’s been a bit of a lazy day, sure. Everyone needs those. But don’t let me stop you from having fun with your friends, you should go!”

I put my hands on his shoulders, prying him off of me. It felt as though my heart had sunk all the way down into my heels. “You... said you’d meet them,” 

Had this been any other instance, I wouldn’t have cared— I’d have told him to stay in, that it was okay, but it was really bothering me now. Maybe Roman hadn’t changed after all? Had I deluded myself into thinking he had just for the sake of being with him?

“I know, but we can take it another time. Right?” With a sigh, Roman reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Why are you getting so upset about this?”

No— this was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you really asking me that?”

Roman didn’t even look confused, just... annoyed. “Yeah?”

I had to put a lot of energy into not letting my lower lip give in to a quiver. Standing in front of the man I loved, feeling shut down and upset, I finally let it out; “Do you know I don’t even have a key to your place?”

Roman furrowed his brows, clearly not expecting those words out of my mouth. “What does that have to do with anything?—"

“The one time I left a toothbrush here, you returned it to me!” I balled my fists, hating that this was making me feel like a whiny child. “You don’t want to sleep over at my place, you don’t want to meet my friends, and the one time we ran into your mother, you introduced me as your friend!” Saying it out loud only made it more clear to me. This was not okay, nor was it normal.

Roman’s eye twitched— it was obvious that he didn’t like to be confronted about this head-on. He shook his head, looking further annoyed and uncomfortable as his gaze wandered around the room, refusing to meet mine.

“The only thing that has changed, is that you’re no longer fucking those women with the ridiculously long legs!” I said, feeling my tears press up on me. 

This was it for Roman— he groaned, turning to me with a rather angry look on his face; “What the fuck is up with you and your hang-up on the long legs?—“

“Because, Roman, those women were beautiful!” I cried, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “And maybe you’d let them keep their toothbrushes here, because maybe it would be easier for you to embrace someone you think is on your level!” 

Seeing the stunned expression on his face, I angrily wiped away the tear that had rolled down my cheek, grabbing my stuff. I reached for the door, taking one last jab before making my leave; “I should’ve left with Peter when I had the chance,”

It was in this moment that Roman put his hand on the door, slamming it shut with all his might. The bang echoed through the apartment, making me jump and look back at him with wide eyes of shock; the look on his face made my heart threaten to beat out of my chest.

Roman’s breath came out in short, ragged motions, chest heaving with anger. The way his eyes widened with fury had me worried, and his lips shut tightly into a line as his jaw clenched— I had to take a step back. I should’ve known better than to provoke a man like this. 

“If you need a key to know that I’m crazy about you, then I might have to rethink what I’m doing here with you,” he said, his words coming out like a low growl. “Are you that fucking insecure?”

“You make me insecure!” I let in a big heave of air, flailing my arms around as I tried to find the right words. 

“Yeah?” Roman snarked. “Well, if I’m so fucking horrible, maybe you should go back to Peter! Go ahead!”

Had I not been so terrified, I would’ve cried all over again. “Fuck you,”

Roman’s eye twitched once more— “Fuck you, too,”

“Fuck you!” I couldn’t help but grow more and more agitated; I had never been this hurt in my life. “Fuck you and your snoring!”

Roman’s lips parted in confusion, quickly retaliating; “Oh, yeah? Fuck you and your incessant need to be late to everything!”

“Am not!” This was starting to make my blood boil. “Fuck you and your stupid suits!”

Roman seemed to be feeling the same; “Fuck you and your heels!”

“Fuck you and your hair!” 

Somehow, I felt like this fight was shifting into something else.

“Yeah? Well, fuck you and your short fuck-me dresses!” Roman took a step away from the door, nearing me with dangerous steps. “That’s just not appropriate to wear in my fucking office!”

It didn’t take long until this had turned into a screaming match. “Fine, I will wear nothing but baggy jeans and enormous sweaters, even during the summer! Would that make you happy, asshole?” 

Roman groaned; “You’re such a fucking bitch, do you know that?” he yelled, nearly hovering above me. “Of course it wouldn’t, you know that’s not what I meant!”

“What the fuck do you want me to wear, then?!—“

A beat. “What about nothing?”

It didn’t take long for the both of us to understand what was happening, our eyes widening at the same time as it dawned upon us. It also didn’t take long until I flung myself around his neck, our lips meeting in a fiery, angry kiss. Roman lifted me up in no time, my legs wrapping around him. 

“Fuck you,” I breathed in between kisses, feeling my heart beat against his as he carried me further into the apartment.

“Will do,” he said, reaching his bedroom in no time with his long steps. Roman laid me down on the bed, wasting no time crawling on top of me. 

I was still unbelievably angry at him— but somehow, those emotions had turned into flashes of passion. Something told me that our relationship wouldn’t last at this rate, and it only made me more desperate for him. With tears in both our eyes, we somehow managed to get out of our clothes in between hungry kisses, not wanting to be apart even for just a second.

I let out a tiny sob as he kissed down my stomach, feeling my anger simmer in my chest, raging through me like a storm. Roman was so damn infuriating, but I couldn’t bring myself to let him go. I really, really didn’t want to let him go— was this how we would end?

My back arched off the bed and I let out a soft gasp as I felt him lick a wet stripe up my sex; somehow, the pleasure was starting to feel like a relief from the tornado of feelings ravaging my insides. Feeling his tongue trace tight circles around my clit was way too damn overwhelming at this moment, making me want to cry out in more ways than one. “Rome—“ I breathed, feeling another sob bubble up in my chest.

However, it quickly died out as he sucked down on my clit, lapping me up, making me feel like I was on the brink of pure ecstasy. 

Roman knew how to dull down my brain. He knew, and he knew it very well. Right now, that was more of a blessing than a curse.

“Rome, come back here,” I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his soft hair. “I can’t— I want you close.”

Roman hummed, his wet lips never leaving me as he made his way back up my body with kisses along my stomach, my chest, my collarbones and my neck. “Thought you hated me,”

I looked up at him, meeting his hard gaze as his lips hovered inches above mine. “Not fully,” I whispered, reaching forward to touch his face. Sometimes, it was hard to believe someone so beautiful could be real. “Only a little.” My hands traced his brows, the curve of his nose, the hollow of his cheeks, touching him as though he was made of glass.

And something about my softness seemed to affect Roman— his green eyes rounded out, looking down at me with an unintelligible emotion I hadn’t seen in him before. Leaning back down, he kissed me once more, no longer able to hold back.

With his chest pressed against mine like this, I couldn’t help but feel soothed from the absolute agony coursing through my veins. I was so, so scared that this would be it, that this night would determine whether or not we stayed together or not— and right now, I put away all our differences, all our hiccups, everything that was damn right infuriating about him, because at the end of the day... I loved this man.

And I hated myself for it.

I let out a gasp as he entered me, giving in to a sigh of relief against his lips. Nothing could ever top this feeling, nothing and no one could ever make me feel this good, and I knew it.

“Fuck you,” Roman whispered against my lips, his breathing further challenged by the feeling of being engulfed by my wet heat in this moment, rolling his hips against mine. “Fuck you for driving me crazy like this.”

Feeling his cock deep inside of me like this was enough to make me submit, my fingers going into his hair as I let out a shaky moan. “Fuck you, too,” I wrapped my legs around him, wanting him closer, feeling my breath hitch in my throat as his thrusts soon enough grew more rough. 

Roman reached down to grab my hips, making me meet the harshness of his thrusts. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood for being gentle— he wanted to take his anger out on me, and I was going to let him, whether I wanted to or not. 

A deeper, darker part of me loved this. Loved this feeling of having no control, knowing I had no say in what he was doing whatsoever. I could only tighten my fist in his hair, holding on as he continuously thrust his cock deep into me, letting out a string of breathy curses and moans. 

I could feel my legs getting sore as Roman suddenly said something that made my heart stop; “I love you,” he breathed, his grip on my hips tightening. “Stay with me.”

What? What was going on? I let out a cry, letting my body go limp to take his thrusts. My eyes widened as I realized that in this moment, I suddenly had power over our relationship, probably for the first time ever. I could decide whether or not I wanted to stay— he was begging me.

However, it was incredibly hard to make such an important decision when my legs were trembling and my whole lower body was in a state of the highest euphoric feeling on earth. “Liar,” I eventually said, my anger flaring up again at the memory of the events this past month. “You don’t love me, Rome... A-Aah—“

Angered, Roman pulled out of me without warning, flipping me over on my stomach. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, making me wince, as he used his other hand to prop me up to make it easier for him to enter me again. I let out another cry of both pleasure and anger, grabbing at the bedding beneath me as he spoke; “It’s you... For me, it’s only you... Shit,”

Roman let go of my hair, allowing my body to go limp beneath him. With the little power I had left, I instinctually moved my hips to meet his thrusts, wanting more. 

This was possibly the biggest mind-fuck I had ever been through, my brain shutting down as I felt his dick slide in and out of me continuously. My tears continued to press up on my eyes as I felt my orgasm building. “I loved you,” I breathed, feeling his hot, laboured breath against my shoulder and his hair brushing up against the crook of my neck. “I loved you, so, so much…”

It dawned on me that I really, truly did. I had loved him, but I couldn’t love him anymore. 

As Roman grabbed my hips, somehow shifting the angle of his thrusts, I let out a cry as he brushed up against my sweet spot— this was enough to drive me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before. I muffled my string of moans against the bedding beneath me, feeling a tear roll down my cheek, completely spent and overwhelmed.

It didn’t take long before Roman came as well, the harshness of his thrusts coming to a halt as he spilled into me. My eyes widened at the feeling— we’d been so swept up in the moment that we forgot about the condom. Fuck.

I heard Roman’s breath hitch as he pulled out of me, taking in the sight of his cum slowly leaking out of me.

It made me shudder— crap. I rolled over on my back, feeling how much my thighs and hips ached. It was a strange feeling, accompanying the satisfaction of post-coital rapture. I also couldn't piece together whether I liked the feeling of his cum seeping out of me or not. Had the relationship not been in this state, I probably would've found it rather... hot. 

I watched Roman’s chest raise up and sink, his green eyes meeting mine. None of us knew what to say, the sound of our panting filling the room. 

As everything started to dawn on me, I wiped away my remaining tears, sitting up in the bed despite knowing the cum might stain his sheets. Fuck the sheets. “I should go,” I mumbled, not meeting his eyes anymore. “My friends are probably waiting...”

With a sigh, Roman shifted on the bed, laying down next to me. His fingers reached for my arm, hoping to pull me back down and into his embrace. “Stay,”

I looked back at him, unsure what to feel. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say; “No,”

Roman’s expression remained unchanged, possibly expecting that answer. “I’ll go with you, then,”

“No,” I got up, looking for my clothes that had been scattered somewhere on the floor. “I need to go the pharmacy, get a plan B, and then meet my friends. I don’t have time for you anymore.”

That was definitely something he hadn’t expected. Roman sat up, lips parted in confusion as he watched me get dressed; “What is that supposed to mean?”

I felt my lower lip tremble as I got hit with a newfound sense of clarity. “I’m not getting what I want in this relationship. This isn’t good for me. So until you get your priorities straight, I’m leaving you,” As I finished getting dressed, I turned to him. “Thanks for this, Rome... Have a good night.”

Leaving the bedroom with tears in my eyes, I did my best to hold back yet another sob. I quickly put my shoes on, not wanting to waste another second in his ridiculously big penthouse. I wiped away the mascara stains on my cheeks in the hallway mirror when Roman appeared, back in his clothes.

“Just... Let’s talk about this, okay? Let’s not make a rash decision,” he said, nearing me. “We can make this work. Give it some time.”

It was hard to look at him right now, especially when he looked this sexed-up. I didn’t even want to answer him, making my way to the door.

“Come on!” Roman was starting to sound more desperate, reaching out for my wrist. “This can work!—“

I turned around, my gaze hardening. It was so damn hard to resist him, and I needed to get my decision confirmed. “Say it again,” I said, knowing what would ensue.

Confused, Roman’s brows furrowed; “This can work...?”

“No,” This was it. This was the moment. “Tell me you love me, now that we’re not in bed. Mean it.”

Roman froze, and it was clear that his mind was working overtime. I held my breath, hoping that I would be proven wrong, that this was something we could overcome. However, with a shaky breath, Roman let go of my wrist, taking a step back. He lowered his head in newfound shame, giving me a silent approval to leave.

Sighing, I felt as though my heart had broken into a thousand tiny pieces.  How was it possible that I had let him disappoint me over and over? “Thought so,” I took one last look at him, feeling a sob build in my throat. “Bye, Roman.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It had been a week since I had seen Roman, and it had been a week of pure agony. I hadn't stopped crying, having to take a week off of work, buying takeaway dinners every day because I didn't have the energy to get out of bed most of the time. 

Agony. Pure agony. 

Quite frankly, it made me feel ridiculous. I couldn't believe that I had let myself fall apart because of a man. But this wasn't an ordinary man— This was Roman. The previous-love-of-my-life Roman. Man-of-my-dreams Roman. How could I expect myself to be okay after a breakup like that?

Waking up on Saturday was even worse. The day I would usually have to follow his ridiculously cute 'closeness-rule'. The day we would take our stroll in the park. 

However, a small voice in my head asked me; why can't you just do that yourself? And that was exactly how I ended up back in Clifford Park under that same lamp as usual. A small part of me hoped he would show up, but another part of me went into a tiny panic over that thought. 

I stretched out my hand to let my fingers run over the cold metal where Roman had etched in our initials. In truth, I had found it quite stupid when he had suggested to do it— it was something kids did, teenagers, not grown adults? However, in this moment, I couldn't help but realize how romantic it was. That we were eternally etched onto something, a tiny memory of us and what we used to be. 

The lamp was starting to feel like a tombstone for a beloved, and I wiped away the tear that rolled down my cheek, not necessarily loving the thought of crying in public. Forcing myself to leave, I lowered my head as I passed by a man with a rather familiar scent, trying not to think too much about it. But my curiosity got the best of me— I turned around, watching the man in the familiar coat turn back around. Had he looked at me too? Was that who I thought it was?

I immediately sped up. I shouldn't be here.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Another week had almost passed, and I was starting to feel better. I had found out that the ache in my heart could easily be subsided by a glass of wine or a day out with my friends, but nothing could fill the hole Roman had left in my soul.

However, I had hoped that I would feel better about the whole ordeal at this point. Who needed a man that couldn't commit? Definitely not me.

... Definitely not. 

It was a Friday now, and I had just gotten off of work. I was getting ready to leave for drinks with my friends once more, seeing as that was the best remedy. And when I heard a knock at my door, I opened it without a second thought— it was probably one of my girlfriends asking to borrow a pair of shoes, as always. 

Meaning, when I saw who it was, I completely froze as my lips parted in shock.

There he was; Roman let out a shaky breath as he met my gaze. His hair wasn't styled, lying in soft waves over his forehead, and he had ditched his usual suits for a casual, formal look. Typical Roman— he couldn't even show up looking like a normal human being. Ever. 

However, I wasn't about to complain. I held my breath, unsure what to say or do. 

And suddenly, he spoke up; “Did you know I failed math class?”

I couldn’t help but let my jaw fall, giving him a look. "... What?” Is this really what he chose to say right now? It was definitely not what I had expected. 

Roman shrugged, not meeting my gaze anymore. “I had to redo it over and over again, probably up to three times,” he mumbled, putting his hands into his pockets. "When it comes to important things, I usually fuck it up. Majorly. And it seems to apply with... this as well."

My knuckles were turning white by the sheer force I was holding onto the door. It felt as though I couldn't breathe, turning to stone. 

"I'm also bad at sharing," Roman continued, looking up from the floor. "Really bad. And I'm sort of legally not allowed to give out spare keys to anyone, because of security reasons my company has put in place. So I'm sorry that it didn't cross my mind. But, wait, hold on—" He pulled one hand out of his pockets, reaching out his palm to me. 

And there it was. A key. With a shaky hand, I took it into mine, trying not to pay too much attention to the feeling of his hand against mine after so much time apart. 

Roman let out a relieved sigh, nodding to himself. "The thing about the toothbrush... Fuck, I've been thinking about it endlessly, and I see how it looks now. I genuinely thought you'd probably want it back, it didn't even hit me that you might've wanted a toothbrush at my place, and I have nothing against that. It's... cute, actually,"

I let go of the door with my other hand, putting the keys into my front pocket. I did my best to steady my breathing; I hadn't been this overwhelmed in a while. "Roman, I didn't expect you here—"

"—And the thing about my mother," Roman was practically rambling on at this point. Was he nervous? "She's insane. I don't introduce her to anyone, actually. If she found out we were dating, she'd probably put you through hell and back to see if you'd be the right fit for the 'future of the company', as she says. I wanted to spare you. So, again, sorry. Should've cleared that up."

Another shaky breath escaped me, not knowing what to say. 

Roman nodded to himself, glancing around the hallway to check that we were still alone. "And... I freaked out about meeting your friends. I have an inkling that they hate me, which they sort of have all the right to do," 

"Oh, Roman," I took a step forward, mostly out of pure habit. I had to stop myself from reaching up to his face and stroke through his hair. "Why didn't you just... tell me?"

Roman shrugged, looking rather embarrassed. "You didn't tell me that it bothered you,"

I sighed— he was right. "I'm getting a deja vu. I thought we were supposed to better at communicating, now," 

"I know," Without being invited in, Roman stepped into my apartment, checking it out. It was so typical of him to assume that he would be welcome despite our fight, but I couldn't help but find it sort of... attractive. Arrogant man. I closed the door behind us as I watched him, crossing my arms over my chest. It looked like he wasn't planning on leaving any time soon, sticking out his hand to bump the lamp on my ceiling as though he was bored; "Did I ever tell you I love this place?"

Grimacing, I rolled my eyes. The time he didn't want to stay over at my place was still lingering in the back of my mind. "As if,"

"No, I do," He turned to me, a tiny hint of his signature smirk appearing on his lips. "It's just that your bed is ridiculously tiny. Did you ever notice that I'm longer than your bed?" 

I scoured my brain for that information, flustered. How was it possible for someone to be so charming? Giving up, I shook my head and admitted defeat. I wasn't going to win this mental battle against myself, and I knew it. I wanted him here, whether I admitted to it or not.

Allowing his smirk to grow, Roman's green eyes shimmered with hope. "It seems this will take a while.... Looks like I might have to spend the night,"

I bit back a smile— bastard.

[dsireland86]

Hi! Could I request something with Matt? Where the reader and Matt always dance the line between friends and something more and it irritates the others that they keep denying it?

Thanks!

Another Matt One-Shot! Thank you 😊

Denial

Tags: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey

The box fell over, dumping most of its contents onto the floor. Y/N growled, frustrated with how the day was already going, and it wasn't even noon yet. She was starting to rethink her decision in helping Matt declutter the warehouse, thinking it would have been best if she'd just stayed in bed and shut the world out.

"Hey, let me help," came a soft voice. Matt bent down and helped Y/N toss the cables and extra pieces back into the box. 

"You alright? You seem a little stressed this morning." 

"Yeah," Y/N sighed. "Well, no. The water in my apartment building got turned off last night because of a busted pipe, leaving me with no shower, no coffee, and little tolerance."

"Shit, I'm sorry! Why didn't you say anything?"

Y/N shrugged. "Didn't want to complain, I guess. There's nothing you can do about it, unless you know how to fix a busted water pipe."

Matt grinned, draping an arm over her shoulder. He pulled her close, running his hand up and down the side of her shoulder. The sweet, affectionate gesture made Y/N's body shiver, stirring the pot of swirling emotions for Matt inside her.

"No, I can't, but I can offer you a hot shower and a hot cup of coffee over at my place once we're done here, if that'll help."

Y/N blushed, lowering her head to escape embarrassment.

"Sorry, was that too much?"

"No, no, no, it's fine!" she assured him with a smile. "I really appreciate the offer."

Her fingers found Matt's fingers that were around her shoulder, briefly lacing them together. The way her touch made Matt feel was insatiable, causing him to shift from the increased pressure against his shorts.

"Yeah?" Matt's stomach flipped inside him, and his heart was pounding.

"Yeah," she smiled again.

Y/N picked up the box and carried it over to Matt's work table, sitting it down. She glanced Matt's way once more, grinning like a schoolgirl, before turning and walking away with the brightest smile on her face.

"Man, you've got to tell her, Matt. It's obvious she's into you," Noah stated, coming up behind him. He clamped his hand down on Matt's shoulder.

"Tell her what?"

Noah gawked at Matt. "Really?"

Matt shrugged.

"You like her. You know you do. She likes you. Why are you both denying it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Noah. I don't like her like that. Y/N and I are just friends. She's been talking to some other guy anyway, so yeah."

"So," Noah shrugged. "Doesn't mean anything."

Matt's face fell.

"Whatever. I'm not discussing my personal life with you right now. I've got too much on my mind.

"Dude, she likes you. You like her. Just admit it."

Matt sighed loudly.

"Whatever. Go," shooing Noah away.

Matt did like Y/N, a lot, but he was scared as hell to admit it. She didn't feel the same about him. There was no way. He was her boss and had been for almost a year, never picking up on any of the same vibes that he felt towards her. He was just trying to be nice, regardless of how crazy she made him feel.

Throughout the day, Y/N and Matt continued their weird awkwardness around each other. Whether it was apologizing to the other if they had accidently knocked into each other or hands brushing against hands as they reached for the same thing, Matt and Y/N were fighting the truth like a bull, choosing to stay in complete denial about their feelings for one another

"If they don't kiss or do something, soon, I'm gonna lose it," Jolly commented to Noah and Nick. "Have you seen the two of them today? What hell is up with that?"

The three looked over at Matt and Y/N, who were working through a box of computer parts together. Her giggles and his smiles were giving all of them tooth aches.

"God. Matt is being ridiculous," Nick chuckled.

Noah sighed, plopping down on the couch and stretching his long arms over the back. "Just wait. Something's going to happen. Knowing Matt, he won't be able to handle it much longer."

"Why do you say that?"

Noah raised an eyebrow, twisting the ring on his right hand.

"Matt's an impatient person. When he wants something, he'll just take it."

Jolly hummed. "So, what you're saying is that by tomorrow, Matt and Y/N will have slept together?"

Noah grinned, cocking an eyebrow.

"No way." Jolly disagreed.

"You wanna make a bet?"

Jolly narrowed his eyes, staring at Noah.

"Fifty dollars says she doesn't."

Noah stuck his hand out. "Deal."

"Hey, Y/N, you want this last Celsius in here," Folio asked, buried in the refrigerator.

"Mmm, I think that's Matt's. Doesn't he get really mad when people take his drinks, especially if it's the last one?"

Folio peered at her from around the side of the fridge. "Well, yeah, but it's you. He won't care."

"Who won't care about what?" Matt asked, casually forcing his way into the conversation.

"You won't care if Y/N takes your last can of Celsius."

"Oh, no, go ahead. Maybe it'll make up for that missing cup of coffee this morning." Matt winked at Y/N, making her smile.

"See," Folio noted. Y/N chuckled.

Matt stopped next to her and just stared at her for a moment.

"You okay?" she asked, skeptically.

He nodded as a small smile spread over his lips. Y/N grinned, looking down again.

"God, the two of you are ridiculous," Folio groaned, closing the fridge and handing Y/N the energy drink.

"Just fucking sleep together, already and put us all out of misery."

"Folio, what the fuck, dude!"

"What! It's obvious you two like each other."

"Oh, no," Y/N denied, shaking her head. Matt looked at her as if her words stung.

"Well," she shrugged nervously, "you're my boss. That's all."

Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, looking away.

"See, I'm her boss. Sleeping together would be out of the question," he stated, glancing over at Y/N, who opened the can of Celsius and took a long sip.

"These are the last two freaking boxes," Y/N sighed, dropping the ones in her arms with a thud. Matt gave her a stern look, raising an eyebrow.

"Hopefully, there's nothing valuable in there."

"Really? Matt, we've gone through forty boxes, and not one thing in any of them is valuable."

"Well, maybe forty-one and forty-two will be different."

"Make that forty-three," Nicholas corrected, dropping one more box on top of the other two.

"Ugh," Y/N groaned, scowling at Matt. "I just want to shower."

"Alright, look, take my keys," Matt said, pulling them from his pocket. "Take my car, go to your apartment and get whatever you need for your shower, then go to my house and take one. Use all the hot water if you want to, I don't care. I'll get one of the guys to bring me home."

Y/N stared at Matt, her eyes etched with curiosity.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to inconvenience you or anything."

"You're not. Honest," Matt assured her, with a soft grin.

Y/N's lips curled into a sweet smile, graciously accepting the offer.

"I won't make a mess. And I won't use all your hot water. You won't even know I was there."

Matt nodded, watching as Y/N turned around and walked out of the warehouse, silently hoping she would wreck his entire house.

Matt pulled the spare key out from the small box behind the planter, unlocking the door. His two boys greeted him with wagging tails and hand licks, so excited that dad was home and after plenty of pets, kisses, and outside potty breaks, Matt finally climbed the stairs to check if Y/N was still in the shower. It was quiet, not a trace of running water.

"Y/N?"

Matt checked the spare bathroom first, hoping Y/N didn't choose to use it; not when he had the huge walk in one in his bathroom. To his disappointment, she had, which honestly didn't surprise him.

"Y/N?" Matt called out again. Her stuff was still in the bathroom, so she had to be here somewhere.

Going back downstairs, Matt checked the kitchen and the living room, stopping immediately when he glanced over the couch. Y/N was curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. She was a beautiful sight to see, so relaxed and at peace, making Matt's heart race.Kneeling down next to her and gently brushing strands of hair away from her face, Matt watched Y/N sleep, focusing on all the pretty little things about her he had never noticed before. After a few minutes, he decided that a bed would better suit Y/N than the couch. Carefully lifting her, he carried her upstairs and laid her down gently in the comfort of his bed.

It was pitch black when Y/N awoke to the sound of silence. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she looked around, trying to figure out where she was. The touch of a hand on her lower back startled her, but the voice did not.

"Hey," came the sleepy voice of Matt as he rolled over on his side. By now the dim light from the hall seeped into the darkness, creating the right amount of light for them to see each other.

"Hey."

"You fell asleep on the couch."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to. I just,"

"It's fine, Y/N," Matt said, scooting closer to her. "You don't have to apologize."

"You sure?" Y/N sounded so uncertain that Matt was being honest and it bothered him.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why do you always question me when I say it's okay?"

Matt sat up next to her, their shoulders touching. Her being this close to him was really messing with his head and his heart.

"I don't know," Y/N, huffed a laugh looking away. But Matt stopped her.

"And why do you always look away from me when I'm trying to be nice to you," laying his hand over her cheek to pull her back so that he could look at her.

Through the soft glow of the moon and the hall lights, Y/N never looked more beautiful to Matt than she did right now, with messy hair and sleepy eyes. He was captivated by her, afraid to look anywhere else but at her. His thumb trailed back and forth over her lips as they continued staring at one another and the utter silence was the perfect setting for the light sound of only their heartbeats.

Matt's eyes darted between Y/N's.

"How have I never noticed how beautiful you are?"

Y/N shrugged. "I'm pretty average."

"Whatever. Don't even pretend you don't know how incredibly sexy and amazing you are."

Y/N just stared at Matt. "If you say so."

"I do. You're pretty perfect."

"Oh god, Matt! I'm a ridiculous mess," Y/N groaned, bringing her hands to her face.

"Hey, no you're not. Come here." Matt pulled Y/N towards him, shifting their bodies until she was sitting between his legs, up against his chest.

"Good?" 

Y/N nodded, leaning all the way back against him. Matt was warm and comfortable, making it even better when his arms came around and wrapped around her.

"Is this okay?"

... "Better than okay," she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder.

Matt leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the side of her temple. The feeling of his lips on her skin made Y/N shiver.

"Goosebumps," Matt whispered against her ear, his hands trailing up and down her arms.

"Matt," she whimpered in the dark, her voice trembling.

He kissed the side of her face and this time she tilted her head so he could get a better angle. The feeling of Matt's lips gliding along her skin made Y/N clench her thighs together. This was wrong. He was her boss, her friend. But why did it feel so right?

"Matt, what are we?" she softly asked as his hands found hers.

"We don't have to be anything. I'm tired of people trying to label us."

"You know the others already think we're something, right?

"I had a feeling."

"Are they right?"

"You tell me, Y/N," Matt answered, lacing his fingers through hers. She shifted, turning around and facing him.

"I think you know what we are, Matt. I think you just want me to be the first to say it."

Matt clenched his jaw tight, unable to hide the way his body was reacting towards her. He was dying to tell her the truth, yet scared she'd run away. But then she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing her legs on either side of him, pulling herself up into his lap. Y/N gasped lightly the moment she felt his hard length press against her core, causing Matt to grunt.

"Then say it, Y/N. Tell me what we are, what you want, and I'll give it to you, whatever it is."

The desperate, yet promising look in Matt's eyes was enough for Y/N. With her arms around his neck, she leaned into him and kissed him, softly at first, hoping this wasn't a mistake. She pulled back, looking at Matt's reaction. His eyes were blown wide with surprise yet with a hungry need for more.

"I can't lie anymore, Matt. I want you, and not just as a one night stand."

Matt smiled, slipping his hands around her face, pulling her back in for another heated kiss, this time harder.

"I'm all yours baby. I'm not going anywhere," he promised, pulling back for a moment to look at her. "And fuck, don't ever stop looking at me like the way you are right now."

Y/N giggled, throwing herself back into another kiss with Matt.

"Baby, I can't hold back anymore," Matt groaned the second she pressed her core harder against his erection. "I want you, right here, now," he panted between her kisses.

"Then take me, Matt. I'm yours."

Matt gazed at her for a moment, hoping that what she was saying was true.

"You're serious? No fucking with my head?"

Y/N smiled, grabbing the waistband of her shorts and pulling them off her. Because it was dark, Matt couldn't see her, but he didn't have to. Y/N took his hand and placed it directly between her legs, letting him feel how wet she was for him.

"I'm yours, Matthew. Only yours."

With neither one of them denying their feelings any longer, her promise was all Matt needed. Slipping two fingers instantly inside her, he claimed Y/N as his by making her cum on just his fingers alone. It was unlike anything Matt had ever felt before. She made him feel powerful, fully in charge and capable of anything. Their love making for the first time changed everything for both of them. There was no fear, no questions, just wanting and love, neither one of them able to get enough of the other. The room was filled with nothing but moonlight and moans, cries of passion and groans of ecstasy mixed with the smell of sweat and sex. It was unlike anything they had ever experienced. It was love; pure, undoubting, unwavering love.

[wave2tyun]

cool hot sweet love (beomgyu's ending)

word count: about 1k

a/n: don't read this if you haven't read cool hot sweet love first :0

you woke up at noon with a pounding headache, barely gathering the strength to roll out of bed. it seemed like you didn’t know your alcohol limit that well after all. yeji, however, took notice of how wasted you looked once you got back home, and left some water and hangover medicine on your nightstand, which you gladly took.

you did your usual morning routine to make yourself look presentable again, then started cleaning up the big mess you created in your room while being in a rush yesterday. you gathered the clothes on the floor, spotting a white button-up shirt thrown on your desk chair. confused, you picked it up, memories from last night coming back in an instant, making your cheeks burn again. ‘shit. i should probably return this to beomgyu’. you folded the shirt, feeling something strange in its pocket. putting your hand inside, you discovered a small piece of paper with text on it:

‘meet me at sunset? -beomgyu :)’

you frowned, feeling both excited and nervous about facing him again. still, you wanted to know what this was about, and went to search him at the bar at the appointed time.

the beach was deserted, no tourists around and no workers either. your shoulders slumped; you stopped in your tracks, worrying whether that note was really meant for you, or for today. you took a step back, about to go back, when suddenly the instrumental of a song started softly playing through the speakers around you. so there was someone here after all. you leaned forward, eyes spotting a familiar mop of red hair behind the counter at the bar. unconsciously, your feet led you towards it. you were anxiously playing with your fingers, not knowing what to expect.

“you’re here.” beomgyu smiled once he saw you “i was afraid you wouldn’t notice my note” he tilted his head down, scratching his neck nervously. the fairy lights scattered around the beach started to light up.

“what’s all this about?” you asked, in awe beomgyu’s preparations.

“just come with me.” beomgyu answered shortly. his fingers wrapped around your wrist, guiding you towards a picnic blanket, carefully placed on the shore. there was a plate full of the vanilla cupcakes you adored, with 2 glasses of the famous cherry daiquiri on the side.

“i noticed you liked these, so i wanted to make you more” beomgyu said, pointing at the cupcakes “don’t worry, soobin taught me how to make them.” he added bashfully.

you sat down next to him, still a bit unsure about the context behind this. beomgyu handed you the sweet treats which you both ate in silence. it was a comfortable silence though, there was something about beomgyu that always made you feel at ease around him.

beomgyu played with your fingers, occasionally placing small bits of the fine white sand on your arm, then brushing it off. “could you close your eyes for a bit? there’s this song i really want to show you.”

you nodded, closing your eyes to take in the music as beomgyu pressed play.

you nervously bit your lips ‘was that soren-?’

And if there was a place that I had to choose

Or a memory that fades that I cannot lose

If there was a place that I could call home

Before I die, you oughta know

It’d be in your arms tonight

you felt beomgyu’s gaze on you, heart fluttering as you continued to pay attention to the lyrics.

The green in your eyes

Are like the leaves in the summer

And it changes with the weather

The pink in your cheeks

When you slightly lose your temper

Makes me love you even more

the chorus played once more, the instrumental at the end of the song slowly fading away into the night. you opened your eyes, making eye contact with the boy that has been relentlessly tugging at your heart all summer.

“no one’s got me feeling quite like you” beomgyu spoke softly, wanting his words to be heard by you, and only you “you don’t have to give me an answer right now, maybe it was the push of the alcohol, but i just wanted to get these words out before my heart got captured by my own worries again-“ you cut him off, grabbing his face and giving him a kiss on the lips “is this enough to relieve your worries?“ you slightly pulled away, whispering against his lips “more than enough” he answered back in a daze, eyes full of sweet desire looking into yours. you could feel his hot breath on your skin, his lips were open, softly grazing yours. he grabbed the back of your neck, bringing you closer for another kiss. he kissed you slow and tenderly, taking his time to feel you, to show you all of his emotions, his adoration towards you. you both smiled into the kiss, stopping just for a second to breathe before he gently caressed your lips again, too impatient to feel them once more. his tongue grazed your bottom lip, the taste heady and familiar.

cherry daiquiri.

you couldn’t help but let out a gasp when he gently bit it, nibbling on it. “gyu-“ you wrapped your hands in the strands of hair sitting at the base of his neck. beomgyu left a trail of kissed on your jaw “you’re so pretty, did you know that?” he whispered as he moved to make his way down your neck to leave more kisses. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hair tickled you as he was busy nipping on your skin,“wait-“ you took his face in your hands and lifted his head up to make him look at you “i want to kiss you too” beomgyu’s cheeks burned at the mere thought of your touch on his body. he put his hand over yours, speaking in a hushed tone “i want to be the one to take care of you tonight.”

taglist: @huekalover3000 @maybabe00 @sunoooism

[kylorengarbagedump]

Playing Soldier: Chapter 10

Read on AO3. Part 9 here. Part 11 here.

Summary: You're starting to think you're never getting back home.

Words: 6800

Warnings: Serious attempts at historical war nerdery

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Co-written with @bastillia

Hi, quick note here - we are not following the timeline of the film, since it's completely fucky and doesn't really adhere to any of the major battles closely enough for our nerd-brains to enjoy. As such, please note that the Battle of Camden occurred on August 16th, 1780, not whatever time the movie made up in 1778.

HELLO, WELCOME BACK. Sorry for the delay! We've had an insanely busy two weeks with family visiting, work being insane, and just generally having way-too-much-shit going on. However, we plan to have a new chapter out next week (though the one after that might be... uh, LONG), so please keep in mind we're doing our best to keep to a schedule of every 1-2 weeks!

(I used to write shit that was like, 2k words per chapter. What happened to that??? lmao how did I even do that. I don't even know)

THANK YOU EVERYONE for your very kind words and thoughts for last chapter. We were SO excited to write it and honestly I have been thinking about it non-stop? Idk I just want his cock so bad.

ANYWAY CHAT SOON <3

William.

William.

He’d asked you to call him William.

It had been about forty-two hours (not that you were counting) since your thoroughly unwise, thoroughly unfinished tryst with the colonel of the Green Dragoons. You had spent that time trying to purge yourself of his scent, his touch, his taste. So far, your greatest measure of success had been in slapping your hand whenever it crawled to relieve the pressure between your legs.

You cupped your hands in the creek, splashed your face cold.

Your thoughts needed to be clearer than the damn creek. To even offer this desire a place in your mind would encourage it. And the memory of his name in your ear continued to invite it to stay.

Another palms-worth of water, another splash.

Even more infuriatingly, it had managed to wriggle its way into your thoughts. Most of the time, he passed through your mind as Tavington, or Colonel, or both of them together. But there were moments. Weak, inane moments, wherein the only representation of him bore the name William.

William, as if he were a man who had introduced himself with a bow, a man who might call on your father and ask permission to write, a man who’d done anything other than everything he had done.

William, a name so representative of nothing William Tavington was to you.

And yet, in the dark of night, your fingers itching to chase away lust, that name drifted like foam on the sea of your thoughts; a word whispered in your voice; a soft, reluctant plea; a fantasy of a fantasy—that not only was he your relief, but a man who deserved his name at all.

You groaned, thrust your face in the creek and screamed into the rocks. A voice called your name from beyond the surface, and you jerked back to sit on your heels. Panting, water dripping down your face, you turned to see Lottie.

“Is everything all right?” She studied your expression. “This is, what, the third time you’ve dunked your face in there today?”

You exhaled, waving her off dismissively. “Oh, yes, I’m fine,” you replied, wiping the remaining drops from your face. “Warm day, isn’t it?”

She nodded, gazing back toward camp, squinting in the sun. “I suppose we’d best try to enjoy it before autumn comes.” Her attention turned back to you. “Did you want to play cards before dinner? Best out of seven?”

“Seven?” You grinned, pushing yourself to your feet. “Omitting last night, are you? Fairly certain I recall a winning streak.”

“I don’t know at all what you mean,” she replied with a smile. “Come! I’ve grown weary of stitching circles and gossip.”

You looked to the sky. The sun was cresting away from high noon. Daylight was in waning supply, and this was the first time since the storm that Tavington had left camp—your first chance to venture off without fearing him heeling at your shadow. There was no telling when he'd return, but you'd already spent at least thirty minutes of that time trying to wash him from your thoughts. You needed to get going.

“I thought I’d eat a bit later, actually.” You offered an apologetic smile. “I wanted to forage for some supplies before the day is out.”

“Later?” Lottie tried and failed to conceal a grimace. “With, er, everyone else?”

“Yes.” You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Oh, well I…” She looked at her shoes, rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet. “It just may be uncomfortable. With Alice.” When you replied with only a confused blink, she continued, “She’s still, ah, a bit upset.”

“Still?” You scowled, folding your arms. “Why?”

A sigh escaped her as she searched the ground. “I don't suppose it's that strange,” she said, and then lowered her voice. “Her miscarriage was only a month ago.”

“So?” Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “I said I was sorry. To her face, even.”

Lottie nodded sympathetically. “You did,” she said. “But—”

“But nothing,” you said. “I apologized. It’s done with. She needs to gather her skirts and start anew.”

“Perhaps…” Lottie pursed her lips, regarding you as she considered her words. “Though I'm sure she feels differently.”

“Perhaps she shouldn't have started it, then.” You shrugged. “I certainly don't start arguments that I don't plan on winning.”

“As I've come to learn.” Lottie smiled wryly. “Give her time. Alice clings to her grudges even tighter than she does to her Bible, I think.”

You nodded. “Precisely,” you said, comforted in your knowledge that Alice was the problem and definitely not you, or anything you’d done. “She won’t disturb me. I’ll scrounge some food and find you afterwards.”

“Lovely,” Lottie replied. “Don’t stay out too late. Benedict said we’ll be moving to Camden soon, and you know how the colonel is about giving notice for such things.”

“Camden?” You frowned. “Did he say why?”

Lottie shrugged. “Apparently we are to meet the general and his men there.” She wrung her hands. “Do you suppose it’s to do with those rebels who attacked us?”

“Most likely.” You sighed, forcing down a disquieted squirm. “Though if they know what’s good for them, they’ll have long since turned tail by now.”

If only you didn’t suspect that to be a false hope.

“Might they still be in the area, though?” A little line of concern folded along Lottie’s brow, and she glanced out toward the woods. “Planning an… an ambush, or something?”

“I doubt it,” you said. “Those men got a whipping they shan’t soon forget.”

Lottie let out a relieved half-laugh. “They did, didn’t they?” Skipping forward, she took your hands in hers. “Still. Do promise to be careful.”

“Of course.” You offered a small smile. “I’ll not allow Alice the satisfaction of my abduction.”

She grinned and pinched your arm. “Don’t say such things!”

“You’re right,” you said through a giggle, flinching from her. “Far more likely I’ll be tarred and feathered.”

“Oh, you!” Lottie swatted at you as you retreated, lip pinched between your teeth.

“Strung up as a warning,” you said, pantomiming your own hanging as you flounced away.

“Cards. Tonight.” Lottie shot you a final, quelling look as she began to turn back. “This time you’re done for!”

“You’re on,” you said, and watched as she departed toward camp.

Smile withering on your lips, you breathed deeply, turned your head north. Continentals were not only patrolling the road that direction, you knew militia were stationed toward that way as well. If the Wilksburg company had joined up with them, then that would be the best opportunity you had to find someone—anyone—who knew anything about your father.

In an ideal world, of course, he would be there when you arrived. But you knew better than to practice idealism.

After casting around to ensure that you weren’t being watched, you started down the road. Keeping to the sides, in the grass, was the best strategy for now. It gave you plausible deniability if someone from Tavington’s legion did happen across you.

You hadn’t considered, yet, what you’d even do if and when you found the Continentals. You just knew you needed to do something, anything to peel the guilt from behind your eyes. Kissing Tavington had been an incredible mistake that would require incredible redress. Providing the Continentals with whatever knowledge you possessed was your first attempt to achieve that.

The sun dripped down the sky as you walked, a bead of honey making its way to the horizon. Its heat had gathered sweat at your temples by the time you reached the bridge crossing. With a strange pang of disappointment, you found it deserted, the ground scarred by boot and hoof. The Continentals must have made good on their plans to fall back, spooked by the numbers they encountered at Tavington’s camp.

Huffing a sigh, you hiked your skirts and started over the bridge, reveling for a moment in the rush of cool air above the river.

There was always the possibility that you wouldn’t find the Continentals at all. That they had retreated all the way back to North Carolina, and you were following their long-cold trail. That no trace of them would be found by the time evening fell and forced you to circle back.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t circle back. It would be so simple. All you would have to do is continue walking. Forever. You would never have to see or touch or taste or dwell upon thoughts of William Tavington ever again.

And without you, your home would be burned.

And without you, Grace would be killed.

And you would never know if your father would live to learn of any of it.

Anger lashed you, quickened your steps. It settled into its chosen home of late: a dull, scraping throb in the back of your skull.

No, such whispers of despair would not seduce you. You would keep its lips just as far from your ear as you would keep Colonel Tavington’s lips from your own.

Continentals had to be here. You would find them. And this cacophonous discord in your mind would finally cease, so long as you could affix your sights upon—

“Madam? Madam, can I help you?”

To the west, a nearly-familiar voice. You turned to meet a mounted horse trotting over the hill. As the rider drew closer, you recognized his face.

“Wilson?” you said. “Is that you?”

Wilson gaped, kicking the horse to a canter until he reached you. Your heart was torn between relief and elation, tempered by confusion, since the last time you’d seen Wilson he was waiting out a hanging in Dorchester. Given his appearance now—closer to a bedraggled, bearded orphan than a soldier—you would’ve thought he’d just escaped.

“By God, it’s you,” he said, examining you. He glanced around. “What are you doing out here?”

You grimaced. Perhaps Wilson was trustworthy. But this wasn’t something you wanted to bet your safety on. You needed someone of higher rank.

“There’s a lot I need to explain,” you said. “How did you manage to get out of Dorchester? Do you know anything about my father?”

“Your…” Wilson frowned for a moment before realization dawned across his face.. “Of course. Your father broke us out of that lobster pit. He’s back at camp.”

“What?” It was definitely elation, now. You sidled up to the horse, grabbing at the cantle. “I must see him.”

“Indeed you must.” Wilson held out a hand and vacated his stirrup, letting you clamber onto the back of his mount. “We’re only a couple miles over the valley.” He urged his horse into a trot and laughed. “Oh, he’s going to be thrilled to see you, kid.”

Your chest tightened with excitement. “I know,” you replied, smiling.

You explained on the short ride to camp that you’d been paroled, but omitted anything about working for the British in the encampment down the way. And obviously omitted anything having to do with any superior officers or your attraction to them and how that potentially endangered everyone in your life.

Guilt trailed the horse’s stride. You’d be rid of it soon. Your father—your father—was at the camp. Safe. Alive. You brought your focus to that and that alone. It didn’t matter, the weeks of struggle, the fear and torment over your family’s well-being, the weight of it on your shoulders. It would all be worth it to hear your father’s voice.

A white mass of canvas bloomed into your field of vision, split into distinguished tents as you rode nearer. When you were close enough to shout at them, you could restrain yourself no longer. Squealing, you hopped off the horse, stumbling to the grass and nearly grinding your face into the dirt. You didn’t care. You scrambled to your feet and ran, ran toward the camp, waving your arms above your head, calling a single word out to the air.

“Papa!” you cried. “Papa!”

A dozen heads poked out of or around the side of the tents, squinting in the direction of the wild running woman. Realizing you weren’t their daughter, they dismissed you, nudging their comrades to look in your direction. It wasn’t until a head crowned in a tricorn hat emerged from the crowd that you met recognition in someone’s eyes.

First it was disbelief. Then a yielding, laughing shake of his head. Then he stepped, ambled, bounded toward you, his arms outspread in joy. To see his face was to see a mirror etched with age. He called out your name.

“My girl!” your father hollered. “It’s my girl!”

In long, loping seconds, you crashed together, your arms curling around him, his own embrace crushing your shoulders and head against his chest. You laughed, burying your face in his shoulder, every single shred of shame, panic, and fear withering to the ground. He was warm. He smelled like home.

Papa. Papa was here.

“Papa,” you mumbled. “I’m so glad you’re faring well.”

Papa squeezed you again before holding you at arm’s length, and looking you over. “No worse for wear, yourself.” He met your eyes. “Now what in God’s holy blessed green-and-blue earth are you doing here, cub?” His attention fell to Wilson, riding up behind you. “Where did you find this rascal?”

“She was looking for us, Captain,” Wilson replied with a sheepish shrug.

You fought off a grin, tilting your chin to the sky. “I found him,” you said, fixing your hands on your hips. “And we have much to discuss, Papa.”

“Oh-ho.” A laugh broke out of him, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into another hug. “Of course you did. Of course we do.” He rubbed your back before guiding you around to face the camp. “But first—let me introduce you to everyone!” Papa led you forward, hand raised triumphantly in the air. “My girl is here!”

As you entered the Continental campground, men parted for you, greeted you, tipped their hats in your direction. Miss, missus, good day, pleased to meet you, pleasant to make your acquaintance; all floated in your ears, the words melting together in unfamiliar groups of sound. Never had you been treated with such deference. And never had men seemed so interested in earning your favor.

Even back in Catawba, where Papa was well-known and well-regarded, the local boys had grown up with you. Knew you too well to try speaking to you any more often than courtesy demanded To the Continental men, you were a potentially pretty stranger exposed only through anecdotes shared by a respected, impressive man.

Unfortunately for them (and, given your recent inclinations, perhaps you as well) not one of them impressed you. Though they were, potentially, not at fault for that.

Men shambled through the camp without shoes, without trousers. Handfuls waddled in mud only draped by blankets. Those who sought you to introduce themselves appeared to have gone without shaving—or washing, given the crescents of dirt under their nails—for days. Wilson had not been unique in his swamp-mongrel regalia, you realized.

The condition of the Continental encampment was abominable.

You looked to your father. Glee beamed from him like sunlight. If he was concerned about the deplorable circumstances of his soldiers, it didn’t show. He directed you toward a fire, where several men were seated in a circle, all of them outfitted in some sort of blue coat. They each eyed you as you approached, their gazes flitting between you and your father in confusion.

“Gentlemen,” he said, gesturing toward you, “this is my daughter.”

You gave them your name, bowing your head toward them. One of the men shot to his feet, his eyes wide and locked onto you. The rest of the men followed, standing and nodding toward you as they introduced themselves with names you didn't remember. The first man to stand tipped his cap in your direction.

“Miss.” He was dressed in an outfit that resembled your father’s and stood tall, with tawny hair and high cheekbones. “Captain Pearce. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Your heart stalled. Pearce. That name pierced your memory in a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning. Your eyes widened, and you offered him a tight smile in the most normal manner you could possibly muster.

It had been dark. Storming. He hadn’t been the one speaking to you, and no hint of recognition stirred within his gaze. When you met his eyes, he grinned and returned to a seat around the fire. Your chest fell in relief.

You planned to tell your father what you’d been doing, but involving anyone else seemed foolhardy. If Tavington learned from some desperate Patriot soldier that you’d been dipping between camps with the desire to undermine him, you didn’t think you’d be able to get to Grace before he strung you up on the nearest tree.

Besides, the thought of even considering, let alone explaining, what sort of game you’d been playing with him made your stomach sink. Now that you knew your father was alive and occupied by the war, you could even dare to hope you might never play that game again.

The thought sparkled like a distant star. You imagined bidding your father farewell, escaping back to Catawba, whisking Grace away to Pennsylvania and never seeing William—Colonel—Tavington again.

Why, oh why did some awful, craven piece of you wilt at the very thought of it?

“Cub?” Papa said. “Everything all right?”

You blinked alive. You’d been staring into the fire. “Oh!” you said, laughing. “Yes, yes, Papa, sorry.”

“Go ahead and have a seat, my girl.” He sat on one of the benches by the fire and patted the spot next to him. “You said we have much to discuss.”

Nodding, you took the seat. Your hands folded into the fabric of your dress, your palms sweat onto your knees. You weren’t sure why you were nervous.

“I have information. About the British Army.” There was something important Lottie had mentioned earlier, too. “And about Camden.”

One of the named-but-forgotten men sat forward. “You know about the attempt—”

“Hold on.” Pearce extended his arm as if to quiet him. “Hold on, now.” He met your eyes before setting his jaw, sitting up taller. “By what means did you attain this information?”

You stiffened, looked toward Papa. “I’d rather reveal that to only my father, thank you.”

“Is there a reason you refuse?” Pearce sat forward, gesturing to his uniform. “I’m a captain, just like your father.”

“That’s evident,” you replied, “but my father you are not.”

Pearce glanced at Papa before continuing. “Well, yes, miss. I understand. But I can assure you that I, too, can be provided with sensitive information. My accomplishments in the war—”

You frowned. “I care little for your achievements, Captain Pearce,” you said. “Your behavior is what engenders my trust, and I have seen nothing of that thus far.”

Papa held up a calming hand. “Pearce, it’s all right. She’s a skeptical type. As well she should be.” He grinned at you. “We can talk in a moment.”

“Thank you, Papa.” You folded your arms over your chest.

Pearce huffed, but relinquished, easing back and glancing around. “Very well, then,” he said. “Should we gather the militia?”

“No need,” Papa said. “I’ll inform Colonel Martin later. He and his boy went out scouting a couple of hours ago.” He nodded toward you. “Go on.”

You took a breath, glanced around the circle of men, then at the fire. Your chest tightened. You swallowed the feeling.

“First,” you began, “how long since your forces returned to South Carolina?”

Papa pursed his lips, glanced at Pearce. “Six days, I believe,” he said. Pearce nodded in agreement.

“And how far out have you managed to scout in that time?”

Pearce straightened, shifted where he sat. “Well…”

“Not as far as we’d have liked, cub,” Papa said, raising a hand to the back of his neck. “Our General, you see—”

“Our resources are occupied elsewhere at this time,” said Pearce, a hint of what almost resembled distrust flickering over his face as he regarded you.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yes,” Papa said, and you caught a mote of frustration in his tone. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Show me the most current map you have,” you said. “Much has changed, even since you were last here, Papa.”

Papa nodded, then gestured to a man seated across from him, who sprang to his feet and made for one of the surrounding tents.

“Changed, how?” Papa asked, turning back to you.

“Well,” you sighed. “The British have not rested a day since taking Charleston. They fan the flames of Loyalism across the colony as we speak. By force, or by…” You swallowed. “Enticement.”

Papa frowned. “This land has more backbone than that, surely.”

“Evidently not,” you returned, perhaps too sharply. “More towns pledge fealty to the crown by the day. Lord Cornwallis has dispatched entire legions of men to sweep the countryside and ensure it.”

“Perhaps they lie,” offered Pearce. “Swear whatever oath they must to be left in peace, while their allegiances truly lie elsewhere.”

“Precisely,” said Papa, holding a hand out as if to showcase Pearce. “The soul of liberty is not so easily snuffed.”

You met Pearce’s eyes. His shoulders rolled back. Words of doubt on your lips were distracted by the soldier returning with the requested map. He held it out to your father.

Papa frowned. “I wasn’t the one who asked for it, Private.”

The private’s back hunched in submission and he handed it over to you. As you spread it on your lap, he retreated to his seat around the fire, and you shot him a glare for good measure.

“So.” Your finger swirled over a swath of land in the backcountry. “All of these towns have sworn loyalty to the Crown over the past months.”

Scrutinizing the map, you hummed, leaned forward, and plucked an old charred stick from the edge of the fire pit.

“And there’s a road you’ve not accounted for. Here.” You scratched a charcoal line into the map. “It’s part of what they’re calling the King’s Highway. Supplies move from Charleston to be disseminated to outposts across the backcountry. These seem to be their primary fortifications, as far as I know.” With each new trail, you drew a new, black line. “Fort Ninety-Six, to the west. Stono Ferry, in the south. And Fort Carolina, here in the north.”

“New points of attack,” Papa said, staring into the map. “They’ll be vulnerable along those routes.” He gazed at you, face splitting with a smile before he slapped your back so hard he earned a small oof. “That’s my girl!” He looked to Pearce. “I told you that she was quite a woman, didn’t I?” Before you could begin to question that that meant, he continued, “Do you have anything else, cub?”

“What about the movements of their officers?” Pearce asked.

Your mouth parted as your pulse skipped. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Captain.”

Pearce sighed. “We believe colonel of the Green Dragoons—William Tavington, if you know him—”

If only he knew how well.

“—was spotted here not more than a couple of days ago after our patrols encountered a redcoat encampment. We nearly captured him.”

Papa nodded. “Too bad, too,” he said. “Would’ve been excellent information for Gates.”

“General Gates continues to resist suggestions for the procurement of further intelligence,” Pearce said, partly to you, partly to your father.

“Well.” Papa scoffed. “Gates is a damn fool.”

Pearce gave a commiserating look before turning back to you. “We have reason to believe Tavington’s legion is in the area.” Grey eyes scrutinized you, flicked over your face and hands before meeting your gaze again. “Do you know anything about that?”

Had it been Papa asking, your answer would have been instant. But this was something you didn’t want to confirm for a stranger who could sell you out with the right amount of pressure. And you couldn’t discern Pearce’s intention, couldn’t figure if he already knew the answer to the question he was asking. He was studying you in a way that made your skin want to flutter off in flakes.

“No.” You spun to face your father. “I have something I want to discuss with you.” You glanced at Pearce. “Privately.”

Pearce frowned, looking between you and Papa like he was lost. Papa scanned your expression, chewed his lip before acknowledging Pearce, nodding at him and the other men around the fire to dismiss them. Exhaling, Pearce’s shoulders sank. He stole a final glimpse of you before tipping his hat again and following the rest of the soldiers to the tents.

Before he could speak, you lowered your voice. “Papa, how are you men surviving?” you said. “The state of this camp is horrific.”

Papa grinned, shaking his head. “Don’t be preposterous! No, it isn’t.”

“It’s atrocious.”

“What do you mean?” Papa craned his head, surveying the grid of tents. “Can you not see the fervor here? The thirst for revolution?” Like a poor boy on the eve of Christmas, the reality of his circumstances were obscured by delirious thrill. “These men are Patriots! They believe in something.”

From your perspective, it was difficult to identify what they believed in other than not being fully dressed. Perhaps the British encampment wasn’t possessed by passion, but they at least had the provisions to make it through a single battle. You weren’t sure how the Continentals had gotten this far.

“I’m just a bit concerned with the state of your men right now, is all.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “The colonel of our militia is a legend from the French and Indian war. If I could only tell you of his feats at Fort Wilderness.” He looked at you with utter conviction. “A word from that man could stir even the most phlegmatic hearts to fervor.”

You nodded. “All right then. Perhaps I need time to see it.” Giving him a sly grin, you added, “As of now, I see no such stirring man.”

“Not one?”

“Not one.”

“Ah…” Papa rubbed his knees, shooting you a rueful grin. “So, Captain Pearce didn’t impress you?”

Your brow furrowed. “No, he didn’t,” you replied. “Speak your meaning plainly, Papa. From where did this question arrive?”

He leaned back, sucking in air through his teeth. “Oh, I don’t know, cub,” he said. “He’s been a great help to me, and he’s around your age. He’s intelligent. Ambitious. I know you’re not easily impressed, so I thought maybe…” He waved you off. “Forget it, forget it.”

“Wait.” Your jaw dropped. “Were you trying to…” A laugh of disbelief escaped you. That’s why Pearce had been acting so strangely in front of you. “You were trying to arrange something with him?”

Papa threw up his hands defensively. “No!” he insisted. “No, no, no. Nothing like that. I just thought perhaps if you met him…”

“What, he’d—he’d… wing me away in a fit of infatuation?”

“Not a fit—no!” He clapped to silence further discussion. “Anyway. Just. Forget all of that.”

You grumbled, but nodded along anyway. Papa had never cared if you were married and had never tried to foist a man into your arms regardless. The romance of war had swept him in flight. He’d simply hoped to pass it on to you, as he’d done with all of his other idealistic aspirations.

The relics of your rage from a couple of nights prior resurrected themselves. If it hadn’t been for these very idealistic, romantic aspirations over something incredibly dangerous, you wouldn’t even be sitting in this camp. The three of you could have fled the encroaching war together, could have done something sensible for once.

Instead, just one of you was left with obligation.

Just one of you was left to put out the candles, to sweep the porch, to lock the doors, to tuck the sheets under the mattresses.

What had Tavington said, that first night you’d met him?

Is your father so thoughtless, leaving his daughters vulnerable while he dies in war?

You ground your teeth together. He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be. He wasn’t allowed to be.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” you said, shaking off all thoughts of the colonel and how right or wrong or whatever he was. You dropped your volume to a whisper. “I’ve been traveling with the British army since mid-June. Grace and I were taken—”

Papa’s eyes widened. “You—cub, you’ve been what?”

“That’s where I came from!” You inched closer to him. “Tavington’s legion is just south of the river. That’s where I’ve been. Papa…” You glanced around. “Do your men mean to advance on Camden?”

His face fell. He drew in a long inhale, gazing into the fire. “Dammit. So they know, do they?”

“You must withdraw,” you said. “Cornwallis is on his way north to defend it. Whatever you’ve got planned, it won’t be enough.”

Papa nodded, silent, chewing on his cheek in thought. “Thank you,” he said, finally. “Though I’m not sure what good it will do with this fool Gates commanding us. I doubt he’ll hear a word of it.”

“Then you must make him hear. Relief though it brings me to have informed you of it.” You could let the load of this war die in its own wake. After seeing the state of the Continental camp, you were more determined than ever to get home and get Grace out of South Carolina. “More relief still to know you’re alive. I’ve spent all of these weeks thinking you might have been dead. Or hurt, or… I don’t know. Worse.”

“And that’s what had you out here staying in… did you say Tavington's legion?”

“I did.”

He hummed, giving another knowing shake of his head. “Tavington isn't known for being obtuse. Or charitable.” He laughed. “You might have gotten yourself killed.”

Or worse—deflowered. “I can handle myself,” you said. “Besides—”

“I know you can,” Papa said. “Just don’t give them too much hell when you get back there.”

Your fingers wound around each other. There, as in return to the British encampment. Not head home. You swallowed, panic creeping up your neck and bringing a wave of sweat with it. You’d thought it would be clear for you to abandon this entire charade and put the devilish whims of war—and Tavington—behind you.

Had you been neglecting some duty when considering your plan? Was there some important piece of information you’d omitted?

“But…” The word sounded wrong on your tongue. “How will I… what will I be doing?”

“What you’ve already been doing,” he said. “We need Tavington crippled. He’s been slaughtering us.”

“But how will I get you information?”

He shrugged. “Write letters to Grace, if you’d like. She can keep them for me. But I’m not worried about the information. I trust you to do what’s right.”

It wanted to leave again. “But I…”

You would never do that. There was no way you’d even accidentally implicate her anything. The fact that he’d even suggested it irritated you.

“Of course.” And then, with far more acidity than you realized you’d been holding, “Grace is well, by the way, since you asked.”

Papa frowned, face drawn with concern. “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he said, “I’m glad she is. But I never doubted she would be with you there.” He paused, considering you. “Everything all right, cub?” He nudged you playfully. “Aren’t you inspired?”

Shame consumed you. Your stomach fell to your feet. You hadn’t been careful. You’d been selfish. That was the problem.

You held importance to people like your father, who was clearly awe-struck by the vigor of rebellion. You served a crucial point in preventing him from coming to harm. At least with the information you’d given him today, he might stand a chance in escaping certain death from a confrontation at Camden.

This was your father. Of course he trusted you, of course he assumed the best in you. How was it possible you considered doing anything but what he hoped for?

You’d been so stupid.

Nodding, you looked at Papa. Forced a smile just like you had when he told you he was heading off to join the Wilksburg company.

“Yes, Papa,” you replied. “I’m going to do my best for you. I promise.”

Papa smiled and pulled you into a strong, close hug. You closed your eyes, a knot bubbling in your throat and escaping as a pained laugh. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck.

“I lost your boots,” you whimpered.

His body shook with a chuckle. “My boots?”

You nodded. “Redcoats took them.” Your voice strained the words. “I’m sorry.”

“Damn the boots,” Papa said, holding you closer. “Damn the redcoats, too. It’s hardly the most consequential thing they’d take from us, given the chance.”

Warmth spread through you. Your father was right.

Tavington hadn’t been, wasn’t, and would never be right.

You allowed yourself to feel safety in your father’s arms for a few more moments. The sun was painting purple streaks through the sky, and you needed to return to camp with at least a few plants in your pocket. But for just a few seconds, none of that mattered.

After you bid Papa farewell with another long embrace, you waved at the Continental officers and their poorly-clothed subordinates. Wilson offered a ride at least to the bridge, but you declined it. You were not going to put yourself or anyone else at greater risk than you were already in.

The walk back to camp was long, but helped to soothe your racing mind. And at least it gave you the opportunity to collect whatever vegetation you could find. You managed to snatch a handful of a few different prophylactics for swelling along the way—the sumac and plantain would be best for that—and added in some dogwood to help reduce fever.

By the time you returned to camp, the sun had tucked itself into the trees, the eastern skyline bleeding black into the dying day. You neared the perimeter, and a couple of soldiers seated by a tent spotted you. Their eyes widened. One stood and slipped into camp.

Your mouth dried. Instead of waiting to find out what that was about, you scurried to the hospital tent, hoping to make yourself appear very busy instead of very delinquent. It was empty when you entered. You couldn’t decide if that was a relief or a disappointment.

Holding your breath, you hovered over one of the work tables and grabbed your mortar and pestle along with a few bottles. There had to be something you could start on that would allow you to perform innocence. If William—Colonel, dammit—

The flap to the hospital tent parted. Colonel Tavington stalked through.

You turned to see his brow relax when he saw you, only for his jaw to shift and tighten when his eyes met yours. His lip twitched.

You looked at your hands. “Good evening, Col—”

“Where were you?” He stepped toward you, hands behind his back.

“Sir?” You gave him a placating smile, gesturing to your bottles. “I was out gathering supplies.”

Tavington raised a brow. “Is that so?” Nodding toward the table, he said, “Show me, then.”

“What I gathered?”

“Unless you believe there’s something else I’d rather see as proof of your reason for absence.”

You pulled your lips in over your teeth and retrieved the vegetation from your pockets, spreading them all on the table. They sprinkled across the surface like a handful of hay on a pig’s belly. The amount now seemed pitiably inadequate for the time you’d been gone. Heat flushed your neck.

He stepped closer to you, looming over your shoulder. A slow breath left him as he examined them.

“This,” he said, pitch lower and quieter than you anticipated, “is all you managed to find?”

Ignoring the twist in your lower abdomen, you shrugged. “This was all that was worthwhile. And they’re all that I needed.”

He reached around you, lifting one of the crimson sumac clusters from the table and spinning it in his fingers. “Tell me about this, then.”

“That’s staghorn sumac.” You forced a small grin. The breadth of his chest, the rumble of his voice there almost unsteadied you. Almost. “Helpful for inflammation.”

“Sumac,” he said, twirling it again. “I remember you asking me if I could identify it.”

Your heart thumped against your chest. “I did.”

“Does it always look like this?” He slid his thumb up the tender stem, flicked it across the base of the fruits. “This color.”

“It does.” Your chin quivered, your insides writhing in a knot. The very fact he’d even asked made you want to hop on the table and wrap your legs around his waist. “You'll…” You exhaled a steadying breath. “You'll know it, now.”

“I should hope I never need to.” You didn’t reply. Only watched as he laid the sumac on the table and cradled one of the white flowers in his palm. “What does this do?”

“Dogwood,” you murmured. The heat from his body was not distracting. You were not thinking about how his palms would feel on your hips, your breasts. “For. Ah. For fever.”

“I see.” He brought the flower—and his arm—closer to your waist. “Have you noticed any…” he said, the next word hanging on his tongue, “neglected instances of feverish behavior recently?”

“No.” You swallowed. “Just preparation.”

“Ah.” Returning the dogwood, he picked up a plantain leaf, humming thoughtfully. “And this?”

“It’s good for insect bites,” you murmured. The memory of his lips, the moan he’d made into your mouth stole the stability from your knees, and you braced yourself on the table. “I know the men have been complaining of mosquitoes recently.”

“How thoughtful.” He stepped closer, hips grazing yours. “And unlike you.”

“Perhaps so,” you said quickly, stupidly. You needed him out of your space. “But I’ve found them bothersome as well.”

His tone grew cold. “I believe that’s the first honest sentence out of your mouth all evening.”

You straightened, moving to the side. “I really must ask—”

Tavington gripped the table, barring your escape with his arm. Spinning to face him, you found his chest an inch from yours, his gaze boring into you. Every good intention you had to tell him to leave chilled to ice.

“Where were you?” His tongue rolled in his mouth. “This,” he said, crushing a handful of the flowers in his palm, “did not take you hours.”

“We’ve been camped here for weeks. I’ve picked these woods bare,” you replied. “I had to go far out into the field.”

His eyes narrowed. “To find scraps?”

The wicked edge in his tone cut a shiver up your spine. You could almost taste his lips again, could feel the yearning to dissolve against him. Clearing your throat of need, you lifted your chin to the air.

“I’m being honest,” you lied.

“Honest, are you?” That smirk that you found so irritating, so devastatingly irresistible, quirked on the mouth you did not want to kiss. “Then tell me this, my little soldier.” Tavington’s hand drew close to your hip, found the edges of your skirts, tugged at them by only an inch. You flinched. “Do I detect the vestiges…” He leaned close to whisper with soft, trembling rage. “... Of desire?”

Your nails dug into the table. Finding his eyes, you did the only thing you could think to do.

“Lottie!” you shouted. “Lottie, come quick! I want to show you something!”

Tavington’s brows rose, and his jaw stiffened.

“I knew you to be a liar,” he muttered. “But I did not take you for a coward.”

With a short exhale through his nose, he withdrew from you. Seconds later, Charlotte Goddard charged into the tent.

“I’m here! I’m here!” She was heaving. “What, what is it? When did you get back?” Spotting Tavington, she stood tall. “Oh, Colonel! Excuse me, sir.” She bowed her head. “Good evening.”

Colonel—yes, Colonel, thank you very much—Tavington’s attention flipped between the two of you. He marched out of the tent without a word. Lottie looked to the table, then at you.

“About as good as that’s going to get,” she said, walking over toward you. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

A long, heavy breath slid from your nose. An ache lingered between your legs. There were so many things you could have shown her, could have told her. All of them had to remain secret to your grave. So instead, you scooped up the sumac, dangling the clusters from your hands.

“Look,” you said, half-grinning. “It matches your hair.”

[babybulls15]

(Carlos Sainz Jr./Max Verstappen, 2.1k, rated T, 1/1)

(Tooth-Rotting Fluff, the fluffiest of all the fluffy things that have ever entered my brain, Morning Cuddles, rated T because swearing just happens to me I don't control it)

Summary:

The best mornings are slow. Even when they probably shouldn't be.

Read it on Ao3 or below. :))

(made possible by the loveliest of beta readers @leversainz)

(I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts! :3)

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

Max comes to slowly at first.

His mind takes its due time to tether back to reality and enter a state that can be considered awake – making several detours through barely-there thoughts and dream-like visions.

There is sunshine falling on his face, warm and welcoming. Max is not yet conscious enough for the rays to register as bright, so he relishes in the warmth until the comfortable blank of his vision becomes more and more orange, threatening to tip him too far into wakefulness.

Languidly stretching, he turns around and away from the light, not tuning into the waking world enough to open his eyes. Crisis averted.

The other side registers as less bright, but not lacking any of the warmth previously supplied by the morning sun. Max smiles at this almost-thought, as he burrows his head into the chest of his own personal burning star. Intending to bask in the provided body heat for at least another hour, he wraps himself around his human ray of sunshine, feeling arms envelope him in turn and almost slips back into full unconsciousness.

However all the movement and bursts of nearly-thinking have seemingly set something in motion within Max’s brain, as he realises two things in quick succession.

One, he should be alone. There should not be another person here. Least of all the one that he is currently wrapped around. And two, all windows in his room are facing west.

Max comes to with a start then.

Memories of the night before flood his mind - sitting in his room, texting Carlos, complaining about being alone (Carlos), tempting (also Carlos), throwing all caution to the wind and sneaking out in the middle of the night (Max), yada yada yada (both of them).

Max should not be here. He is not where he is supposed to be. He needs to get back to his room now or Victoria is going to have him hung, drawn and quartered by noon. Shit.

He must look wild, eyes thrown wide open and darting across the room, quickly scanning his surroundings for any indication of the time. Carlos’ chest, that Max is still very much pressed against, rumbles with barely contained laughter. “Relax cariño, it is still early.”

Not even slightly soothed by that, Max tries to disentangle himself from the embrace, to catch a glimpse at the alarm clock on the nightstand. But the more he struggles, the tighter the hold on him becomes. Still not quite awake enough for words, Max lets out a protesting whine. Carlos only chuckles. Asshole.

“Calm down, mi vida. No one is even up yet.”, Carlos tries again. This time the reassurance is paired with feather-light kisses to the top of Max’s head and all over his face. “And besides, I would’ve woken you on time. Can’t have you start such an important day by panicking, no?” He places one last kiss to Max’s brow, giving him a look that makes any objection pointless. So Max sighs and lets himself sink back fully into the strong arms wrapped around him.

Closing his eyes and focusing on Carlos’ hands running up and down his back, he tries to channel the serenity that had enveloped him just a few minutes ago. Carlos says they have time, so he is going to use it.

But, turns out, being shocked awake kind of prevents one from fully relaxing back into blissful unawareness so soon. Like someone flipped a switch, Max’s mind is suddenly full of thoughts. Less severe realisations bouncing around freely, keeping him awake and stacking up nervous energy. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying not to think about the day ahead, he caves and takes a deep breath – preparing himself for the real world, plans and responsibilities. Okay, next try.

He squints up at Carlos, knowing it makes him look slightly sleep-addled and cute (not Max’s words). “Would you at least tell me what time it actually is?”, Max pleads, “Are you sure no one is awake and scheming our murder right now?” He adds a pained yet sweet smile (he hopes) to complete the package, but only gets an amused look and a raised eyebrow in return. So time for the big guns.

Max stretches to look directly into warm, chocolate brown eyes, blinking slowly. “Schatje”, he almost-whispers, “you know I trust your judgement on the schedule.” Another blink. “And if it was up to me I’d say screw everything and stay in bed with you until the actual ceremony.” Leaning closer, Max presses a barely-there kiss to Carlos’ lips, savouring the way they’re chasing after him when he pulls away slowly. He sighs. “But I also don’t want to give Vicky any tangible excuse to kill me on my wedding day. And being caught in your hotel room on said wedding day, when we were explicitly asked to stay apart, does place very high on the list of things she considers such reasons.”

Max can anticipate the protest from the way Carlos’ arms tighten around him once more and the groan he feels more than hears.

“But all of this is such outdated superstition!” Here it comes.

Carlos is, by all means, not someone who whines. He really isn’t. This is a close call though. If he wasn’t holding Max so tightly, the Dutchman is sure, he would even throw his hands up for emphasis.They’ve been through this before.

“No one except your sister actually believes in it. I certainly don’t and you don’t either.” Carlos rolls onto his back, letting his head fall onto the pillow with a thump. Max follows the movement and settles with his arms crossed on Carlos’ chest, head resting on them. The Spaniard takes a deep breath and meets Max’s eyes. His gaze looks slightly desperate. Huh, this is new.

“I thought I could do this. For you. Because I love you and I know how important your sister is to you. But it is different now that the day is actually here.” Carlos takes another breath, like he is steeling himself for something. “We already have to sneak around all the time, so I refuse to be pressured into doing so, on the one day that we shouldn’t need to. We are getting married for fucks sake. That should mean something. That is supposed to stop all the hiding, all the secrecy.” Carlos now sounds as desperate as he looks and Max is getting slightly worried. Neither of them had been thrilled when Victoria had proposed (read: demanded) they stick to the ‘tradition’ of not seeing each other the night before the wedding, agreeing only to appease her. However, this is an entirely different tone. This is a big deal.

Why has this not come up sooner? They’ve been together for so many years, but with both of them still active in F1 and the sport being what it is, actually coming out has so far been shelved for after they retire. All the people that really matter know anyway. And even though they both regularly voice their frustrations over certain details, they know the only real solution remains one neither of them wants to consider yet. Or is Carlos considering it? Is that what this is about? Does he want to retire? Max tenses. Carlos continues.

“We shouldn’t have to worry about being seen coming out of each other’s hotel room today. We already have that enough during the season. I hate it then and I hate it now. We shouldn’t have to worry about not being seen in the hallway of a hotel, that is entirely booked with guests for our wedding. Why do we even have two rooms? That is such a waste of money and space for such a bullshit superstition.” Carlos huffs, slightly out of breath and Max uses the opportunity to pull him into a deeper kiss. Both to placate Carlos and to calm himself down. He knows they need to have a proper conversation about this. But for what it’s worth, Max thinks that can wait until after they are properly married. It’s only the beginning of summer break. If they choose to, they’ve got enough time to make a real plan for going public or find a way to make the situation more bearable in the future. Today is not about that though. Today is about them and their love, no matter who knows about it. And Max is going to make sure that all the work they put in, to make this whole thing as private and relaxing as possible, is not going to waste. Let’s fix this.

“You’re right.”, he says firmly, when they break apart for long enough to get a word in, “We are getting married and that means something. It means that for once, we call all the shots. No more hiding. No more sneaking.” He smiles brightly at Carlos, who seems to relax more with every word and starts to smile back. Good.

Max sighs again. “I know my sister can be overbearing, but she means well. It’s just that she’s not big on taking risks when it comes to relationships and apparently that includes superstition.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I am very glad I let you tempt me into not spending the night apart.” Max leans in, locking their gazes and whispers: “Because we are getting married today and I could not imagine a better start to married life than waking up next to you, Liefje.” He means to emphasize his point with a small peck, barely long enough to register, but Carlos catches him and they get lost in each other for a while.

“I love you.”, Max breathes against Carlos’ lips when they pull apart. The smile he gets back is almost blinding. “I love you too, mi vida. And today I am going to make sure everyone we meet knows it.” For a moment Max lets himself bask in that and the vision of it maybe becoming the norm someday, before he leans closer again and winks at Carlos conspiratorially. “That sounds lovely. Let’s do that. Of course, I am also going to need you as my personal security against Vicky.”, he says. Carlos rolls his eyes, but Max continues undeterred. “Though I am not going to sneak around, I am also not strong enough to face her wrath. She is my little sister, sure, and this is technically our wedding, but you know as well as I do, that flew out of her head, the moment I made her my maid of honour.” His weak attempt at a joke draws a small chuckle from Carlos.“I would never let anything happen to you, mi amor. You are safe with me, do not worry.”, Carlos grins at Max, who mimics swooning into his arms, “My knight in shining armour.” They both giggle. Better.

There’s little conversation after that, the two of them just lying together, basking in the morning sunlight and the comfortable silence that envelopes the room.

This is probably going to be the last real silence of the day, Max realises. Contentment and excitement are mixing in his gut, forming a cocktail that makes his head spin a little. He doesn’t want this to end. Ever. Never wants to leave this room, this little cocoon of happiness, that they always seem to be able to build. No matter where they are.

But at the same time he can’t wait to get married. Can’t wait to walk down the aisle with his soulmate. Can’t wait to make everything official. Not that 8 years of a dedicated relationship and shared real estate are not official, but there is a small possessive side of him, that puts some more weight into getting to call his boyfriend of 8 years his husband. Husband. Yeah that sounds about right.

Another realisation makes Max perk up. “About the rooms. You know we are paying for the whole hotel, even though not all the rooms are booked. So technically, we are just properly using the otherwise wasted space. This is actively making us waste less money, you see.”, he says. With the words out of his mouth, he’s briefly afraid it’s going to ruin the mood again. But Carlos doesn’t seem to think so, as he just starts laughing loudly. And Max is a weak, weak man when it comes to that laugh, so although he doesn’t really see the joke, he has no choice but to join in.

They have just come down a bit, when Carlos clears his throat. “So, seeing as we don’t like wasting money, maybe we should use up some of the other empty rooms tonight?”, he proposes, scratching his chin like he is trying to solve a very difficult problem. Max emphatically nods. “To keep the wasted money to a minimum of course.”, he agrees.

They burst out laughing again. The best.

[souglias]

TWILIGHT - [Kaveh]

Both you and Kaveh work on your respective creative projects into the night. However, things don't go as smoothly as both of you wish.

Kaveh x gn!reader. Fluff.

Word count: 2.9k

c/w: alcohol consumption (on Kaveh's part), may be slightly self-indulgent

note: inspired by with my hand in yours (Kaveh's part) by @monocaelia , please go support her!!! Also, thank you sm to @dinoshimaaa for the beta mwah mwah

Dusk, Dawn, Twilight Masterlist

--

TWILIGHT in the wee hours speaks of a magical liminality that many miss. You are awake even before then, but you do not get to enjoy the serenity that such a quiet hour is supposed to bring. Instead, you are hunched over your easel with your final art assignment. It’s three in the morning, and the assignment is due at noon. You’ve barely slept the night before. Your third cup of coffee for the night is placed on the table beside you. An incomplete painting sits haphazardly on an easel by the table. Various paintbrushes sprawl all over the table. 

On the other side of the table, Kaveh pores over his architecture project, due for discussion with the client at the same hour as yours. His writing materials and tools are dumped atop one another on his side of the table. Instead of a cup of coffee on the table, he has a small cup of alcohol on the empty stool beside him. 

You tell him that it is counterproductive to drink alcohol for all-nighters because it makes him sleepy, especially since he’s a lightweight. But he protests that a small cup helps keep him loose. You don’t try to refute that, knowing that some classmates of yours do that.

Upbeat music plays in the background. Absent-mindedly, you tap your foot according to its beat. You wish you could turn the volume up higher. The higher the volume, the more sane it’ll keep you. However, that would lead to angry neighbours and you have no time to deal with such trouble.

As for Kaveh, he pays no mind to the music. His eyes are kept trained on his workspace, not even minding the beetle that crawls past his wine cup. His hands move as if they have minds of their own, moving his feathered pen gracefully. 

You’re kind of envious of him.

Kaveh knows what he’s doing. He knows what he wants. All the steps are already laid out in his head and they only need to be materialised on paper. You think he’s just a little careless, failing to set aside sufficient time to work on his project at a comfortable pace. 

With his eyebrows furrowed, he reaches out to his wine cup and takes a gulp. You’re pretty sure his cup isn’t gonna last the night and he’s going to head to the kitchen for a refill. It’s going to become multiple ‘small cups’. But seeing how focused he is, you don’t wish to break his concentration with any brief teasing.

The world around Kaveh is blurred out, his focus only zeroes in on the project in front of him. He stays this way for a long time until you let out an exasperated shout. Thank the Archons that both of you decided against working in Al Haitham’s home. 

His home would have been ideal with its proximity to the Akademiya. However, Al Haitham would go ballistic with the music. The last straw would probably be one of your (or possibly even Kaveh’s) eventual exasperated yells. 

Your head abruptly turns and you find Kaveh looking at you. “Oh shit, I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

Kaveh shakes his head and smiles instead. “Hit a roadblock? You can talk to me about it.”

“You sure?”

Kaveh nods. “I’d listen to you any day.”

Your eyes dart around your workspace, unsure where to start, as you turn your body towards him. After mulling over the question for a while, you start, “First off, my references don’t seem to be working very well? I took photographs for my references, but I only realised not long ago that the angles are all off. So I don’t know if this-” you pause to gesture at your painting, “is accurate.”

“Then, we have the issue of the paint. I can’t seem to get the colour I want! I spend so much time mixing the paint. If I could figure out the portion of colours I need to mix right off the bat, I could have saved so much time. Archons, I don’t know if I can finish.”

After throwing a glance at your painting, you start swearing. “Archons, what the fuck is this? What the fuck am I doing?”

Kaveh scrutinises your painting. Some parts of the canvas have been covered with paint while the parts unpainted only have draft lines. However, he still manages to discern two people near a window. One in the house with their back facing the viewer, the other on the other side of the window. Outside the window, the subject situated there has his body facing the one inside. However, Kaveh notices that his body is slightly turned away as if the subject is going away eventually. He guesses that a beautiful sea of stars expands out behind them, but there is still a large focus on the two people looking at each other. 

“Want to share what your assignment is about? Talking about it might help.”

You start fiddling with your paintbrush. 

“Our assignment was to create a painting and use it to convey a message to someone. It could be any message to anyone. Some wanted to make paintings to tell the upper echelons of the Akademiya about how insane the workload was. A few others wanted to advocate to just about everyone about our ever-warming climate…”

Your voice trails off and your eyes dart away from Kaveh. He raises an eyebrow at you and asks. “So, what’s the message you want to send and who are you sending it to?”

“It’s about the distance between… someone and I.”

Kaveh slightly leans towards you without realising. “Who might that be…?”

When you make eye contact with him again, you catch the intensity in his gaze and try not to flinch in your stool. The air becomes slightly charged and you hurriedly scoff to dissipate the tension, “Well, that’s not for you to know.”

You stick your tongue out at him and you turn away from him to face your canvas again. 

The urge to ask you who in the world this person consumes Kaveh. Who is it that has troubled you so much, that you have to make a painting for them to express yourself? 

He plays with the thought of this person being him. It feels slightly dangerous as if he’s walking a tightrope. Even this mere thought feels forbidden.

However, Kaveh cannot seem to disregard the little things that occurred between the two of you. The times both of you shared a drink with the same cup. The moments of accidental grazes of his skin on yours that cause him to flinch. The way you always listened to him talk about his designs, even if there were things you were not too familiar with. Kaveh cannot forget how his heart soars whenever you praise his design. 

On top of that, you always pick him up from the Tavern whenever he is too drunk to go home by himself. Without fail or complaint, you always come if Lambad sends someone looking for you.

Though, Kaveh would say that the two of you have been long-time good friends. There are some things that no longer matter when the two of you have been such good friends. 

Watching your back, he suppresses his desire to know. Kaveh isn’t ready to hear the name of the person you’ve been looking at. If he does, he thinks he’ll lose all the rights to relish the moments solely between the two of you. And what if he ruins the friendship between the two of you?

Kaveh takes a deep breath. He reaches out for his cup to take a sip of wine, but he realises that he’s empty. After making a quick refill, he dives back into his project. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed before he hears a sudden thud from your side. You’re standing up in front of your canvas with your stool toppled over behind you. Without turning to him, you say, “I’m going out.”

Kaveh’s grip on his pen loosens. He glances at your unfinished painting. In that one glance, he sees that you’ve added details, but he can tell it’s not done yet. Then, he checks the time. A little over 5.30 am. You’re already halfway out of the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll just be outside. I… need a breather.”

Kaveh watches you close the door without waiting for his reply. It is pretty normal for designers and artists like both of you to get overwhelmed. Space is a common need for creative minds. Perhaps that is all that you need, so he should let you be. However, Kaveh doesn’t feel at ease leaving you alone. It takes a few moments for Kaveh to navigate through his dilemma for him to decide to follow you.

When Kaveh finds you sitting on the porch, he heaves a silent sigh of relief. You’re gazing up at the navy blue sky. His eyes follow your gaze and he makes out a few blinking stars. 

Kaveh sits down beside you, not uttering a word. There’s only the sound of animals in the distant forest in the space between both of you until you break the silence.

“You know, I’ve never understood why people cry when they see art they admire so much. Maybe everyone has their reasons, but I think I finally found mine. Some of my classmates were sharing their mostly completed artworks. One of theirs made me want to cry.”

Kaveh keeps his eyes on you, noticing your lip quivering. You turn away from him when you continue speaking.

“It was so beautiful. So beautiful and I found myself fighting against tears. That artwork encapsulated everything I wanted to make. How? How does he make it so mesmerising? And why… Why can’t I do that? Why do I always have to come to despise my own work?”

Such feelings were not foreign to Kaveh. As a fellow creative, he knew you would feel this inevitable pain. Yet it makes his heart throb when he sees you doubt yourself.

“[name], look at me.”

You don’t move, keeping your body turned away from him. Oh, how you vex him.

Kaveh cups your cheeks with both his hands and he gently turns your head towards him. He watches a few tears roll down your cheeks and this sight claws at his chest.

“[name], I haven’t seen any of your friends’ works and I know you won’t believe me if I say your work is good. But from the bottom of my heart, the idea of making your painting a message for your… certain someone is wonderfully romantic.”

His voice becomes louder. His hands have started squishing your cheeks, yet his touch remains tender. “In the end, even if you feel like your painting hasn’t gone the way you wanted it to, I know your feelings will reach them. Sometimes my designs don’t turn out the ideal way I want them, but that’s okay. We’ll always nitpick on our work because we care about our craft. Your ideas are already amazing, so even if you hate the final product, take this as a step towards making better art.”

He inhales, not registering what he’s about to say. “And I like you! I don’t just like anyone out there, they should be artistic and creative! They should be brave to try new things too. So, you’re creative and artistic! And yes, you are brave to try new things too. You’ve never seriously dabbled in the arts before, and this is the first time the Akademiya is running classes for art. Enrolling into the Akademiya again for art is a huge leap of faith you’re taking!”

At this point, Kaveh’s ruby eyes are shining against the now violet sky. You see the stars you were looking at earlier in his eyes. “You’re not just anyone. You’re [name], the person I like! Do you understand?”

Kaveh watches as your face slowly turns red. You recall the countless moments he’s helped you to tide through your art assignments. The times the both of you spent together as a result of these art assignments and his client work. Of course, you caught feelings for him at some point, but you always thought you’d have to give him up someday and learn to cope on your own. The thought of having to go on without him haunts you like a ghost for countless days. Its presence looms heavily behind you on the long nights you have to finish your work alone. 

But with his slender and soft hands that hold your face, it’s as if he’s protectively encapsulating your weary soul within those two hands. The grasp of this presence on you loosens. Leaning into his touch, you mumble, “Kaveh, what will I do without you?”

When he notices you tear up again, the first thing he thinks is that he might have said something wrong. He tries to recall what he said, navigating through his hazy mind. When he realises that he’s confessed to you, all the lethargy leaves his body and more heat rushes into his face. He also becomes hyper-aware of the distance between your faces and his hands on your cheeks. 

Apologies come tumbling off his lips as he pulls himself back, “Oh no Archons, [name]. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say that while you’re in a stressful-”

Kaveh notices the ink smudges he left on your cheek and more apologies come your way. “The smudges on your cheek! Oh shit, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s alright,” a tender smile plays on your lips and a giggle escapes your lips, despite a tear that falls from your eyes. Your heart flutters thinking about your next words for the flustered architect. You take a deep breath to calm your hammering heart.

You confess, “The painting is meant as a message for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you properly after it was completed.”

Kaveh’s jaw drops, your words replaying in his mind. 

“Me…?”

A chuckle, music to his ears, escapes from your lips, “Yes, you. Renowned architect, Light of the Kshahrewar, Kaveh.”

“Holy Archons, I-”

Kaveh clasps his hand over his mouth and abruptly turns away from you. He recalls your painting in its most recent state earlier. There was one minute detail that didn’t escape him. The person in the house had been reaching onto the windowsill. 

You have been trying to reach him all along, and you didn’t know if he’d leave for a faraway glorious place.

Kaveh feels a lump in his throat, but he suppresses it and he faces you again. “It’s- I’m honoured to be the recipient of your message. I hope that you’ll be happy with me- No, I will make you happy, [name]. I won’t leave you.”

You reach out and brush a stray tear on his cheek away. The dried acrylic paint on your fingers does not stain his cheek, but you selfishly wished it did. It would have been your mark on him. Just like how he has left his mark on you.

An idea hits you, and you rub your finger against the spots where Kaveh’s fingertips touched your cheek earlier. You find some ink on your fingertips and you smear them on his cheek.

Smiling at your work, you say, “And I will make you happy too, my muse.” 

A soft smile appears on Kaveh’s lips and you wish you could capture him in this moment with the coming sunrise behind him. However, realising what time it may be, you straighten the feather in his hair and suggest, “Okay… I think we should finish our work and we will talk more after.”

Heading back into the house, both of you press on to finish up your respective tasks till this twilight passes and after. It’s not until after you’ve submitted your work that you feel fatigue kick in. 

You meet Kaveh near the location where he’s meeting his client. The meeting goes smoothly and quickly, it’s not long before you find his hands intertwined with yours. The sunlight feels unbearably harsh after the restless nights, so the two of you can’t wait to head into your cool homes to rest.

However, an immeasurable pull between the two of you makes the thought of going home without each other unbearable. 

“Say, could I crash at your place instead, since it’s nearer…? Would Al Haitham mind?”

Kaveh could care less about Al Haitham. Plus, he thinks the both of you will awaken before Al Haitham returns. Hooking his arm around yours, he proclaims, “Of course! Who cares about Al Haitham?” 

Both of you head to his house and settle on the sofa. With a heart filled with love, you drift off to sleep and you dream. You have not dreamt for a long time, but now, you dream of a confession that both morning and night have witnessed.

(When Al Haitham returns, he finds the both of you asleep on the sofa. Your head rests on Kaveh’s shoulder and his head leans on yours. His hands rest protectively atop yours. Al Haitham lets out an inaudible chuckle, finding relief in no longer needing to listen to Kaveh complain about his hopeless situation with you.)

--

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this! All likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[scoonsalicious]

hi pookie its meee🩷🩷

I just wanna tell im sorry that i havent been spamming lately😂. Part of it is because im busy preparing for my sis engagement day which is tomorrow (WHO KNEW ENGAGEMENT WOULD BE VERY CHAOTIC?!)

Unwanted updates has been my alarm clock early in the morning (around 6-8)😂. Usually I would wake up at 12 in the afternoon but since then, early it is.

Somehow my brain knows when you’ll update.

OKKAY Let’s rewind to chpter 23. Of all things… SHEAR A SHEEP?!😂😂😂😂 Thinking about it, I might actually do it too😂 Tony and Pocket clicked right away. I love their dynamic. He cares for her since the beginning and for someone like Pocket, she needs him. That chapter is wholesome.

Next, even if it’s only 1 part, we got to see Sam and Pocket in action and I can’t wait for more. Sam calling himself dark chocolate is just😂😂😂😂. Also a glimpse of Pocket’s childhood/backstory😔 She’s a tough one which makes me even more worried. The ‘plan’. Buying drugs from Kozlov sounds BAD. This makes me think that they will force her to take some kind of new drugs that made her really vulnerable and kidnapped her. (and i really REALLY think, will be the work of fucker cunthage).

Last but not least, I miss Bucket😂 I miss his stupid head. I cant wait for him to be the knight in shining armor, saving his beloved Pocket and beat the shit out of Jeremiah. I trust Pookie will build him to the manly man he needed to be.

Anyways, as always, loads of love for u Pookie. Ur work r the best.😭🩷 I cant wait for the upcoming new story.🔥

Hi, Bestie!!! I love getting your messages! And no need to apologize, because 1) they are *never* spam, and 2) you're busy! Congratulations to your sister, by the way! I hope she has a very long, happy, and healthy marriage! I'm glad I can be your personal alarm clock, lol; though, if I could sleep until noon, that's all I'd be doing! So, the shearing a sheep thing-- I was having a convo with @mrsbuckybarnes1917 and was talking about how I think RDJ and I could be besties, just hanging out and shooting the shit and going on ridiculous adventures, then I was like "he seems like the kind of guy I could shear a sheep with in the middle of the night." And BOOM! An origin story was born! It ended up working out better than I expected. I love writing them together so very much. He really is the solid foundation of her life, and if not for him, who knows where she'd be right now?

Sam calling himself 'Dark Chocolate' was loosely based on Marshall from How I Met Your Mother calling himself 'Big Fudge.' I dunno, as I was writing, I just saw Sam saying it, and I was like 'Bingpot!'

I miss Bucket, too. He has a teeny, tiny over-the-phone cameo in the next part, but they won't be 'on screen' again together until Chapter 25. I should have kept them apart for longer, honestly, but I couldn't resist.

Three parts coming out today, since they're all relatively short, and I'll be leaving you on a bit of cliff hanger to start your weekend. In the meantime, I'm off to work on With Friends Like These which, part way through chapter four, is already 19.5k words. Brevity is not my strong suit, apparently, lol.

As always, Pookie loves you so much, and the cat-kiss gifs give me life! There's nothing I love more than a kitten smooch!

[imtryingmybeskar]

Come Home Chapter Thirteen

Joel Miller x F! Reader.

Word count - 4359

Well, it's finally springtime and you and Joel take that trip out to the museum. If you're still reading then you know what Joel's plans for Ellie's sixteenth birthday are by now. I adore the museum scene, its so wholesome.

Also given that Ellie calls Joel a dinosaur in that scene, I had to make some double entendre about riding them. Entirely necessary.

Come Home

Chapter Thirteen - Feel

SPRING

Gentle, tinkling, tiny, joyful sounds. Warmth that is undeniably sunlight across your arm. Freshness and dew cut with an undercurrent of Joel as you inhale deeply and come back to yourself. Your eyes flutter open and are met with cool, blue surroundings, dappled above with patches of sunshine and shadow.

You sit up abruptly, your sleeping bag rustling as it falls away from your body, and you suddenly realise what this all means.

“Goddamnit Joel,” you huff as you scrub the sleep from your eyes, extricate yourself from your bedding and crawl toward the tent opening.

He’s sitting on a log stump outside and tuning his guitar, long fingers plucking softly at the strings and the sounds mixing with the sweeping birdsong that's heralding the morning. A pot sizzles over a flame and two cups wait to be filled next to a thermos.

“Mornin’” he greets you, briefly looking up from his task with a knowing smile.

“Joel-“ you begin in a warning tone.

“Yeah, I know, I know. But I figured you needed the rest after yesterday.”

You busy yourself with the cups, pouring each of you a small measure of coffee that had been hot twenty four hours ago and was now merely lukewarm.

“We’re gonna have to boil some water if we want more of this,” you remark offhandedly. “And I’m fine after yesterday.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow and you try not to wince at the ache between your thighs.

“Sure didn’t seem like it the amount of noise you were makin’ last night.”

“Alright…mister…cowboy,” you say, struggling to come up with a suitable insult and failing miserably. “We’re not all from Texas you know.”

“You sayin’ I’m a cowboy jus’ ‘cause ahm from Texas?” he asks in mock affront, overly exaggerating his soft accent as he does.

“I’m saying that I think you’re more used to riding horses long distances than I am,” you reply. “And you gotta stop letting me sleep in. The sun’s way up. We’ll never get there at this rate.”

“Alright, I promise. Crack of dawn tomorrow,” he smiles.

“Well…maybe not the crack of dawn,” you mutter before you take a sip of watered down coffee.

“Crack of noon, then.”

“Joel!”

He laughs at your frustration with him. “Fine, we’ll keep better hours. Well…that is to say I’ll make you keep better hours.”

“Never thought I’d miss the alarm on my phone. I’m sorry I’m so shit at waking up. I don’t know how you manage to sneak out every morning without me noticing.”

“Oh, you are dead to the world,” he replies, then winces and mutters, “Oof that’s a poor choice of words.”

“Just a bit!”

“I’ll kick you awake tomorrow, how’s that for an alarm?”

“As long as you stay away from my saddle sores we’ll be fine, Miller.”

He chuckles and places his guitar gently against the tree stump before going to fiddle with the pot on the stove. What you knew, what you were absolutely not prepared to talk about was that you were sleeping so well because of him. To reduce the amount you had to carry on this trip out, it had been agreed that you would bring one large tent instead of two individual ones. By Maria’s calendar it was mid-March. The days were longer and the sun was actually starting to feel warm now, but the nights and evenings were still chilly, and you were always grateful for the extra warmth he had provided within the tent when you would change over the watch in the middle of the night. Not to mention the comfort of having him so close, knowing he was just outside and keeping you safe while you slept.

When you had announced that you would be going out for several days alone, Ellie hadn’t been able to resist.

“Oh yeeeaaaah?” she had said, an exaggerated leer on her face.

Joel had sighed in a deeply put upon way. “Chrissake Ellie, you know the routes ain’t been maintained as well as they should have been over winter. There’s gotta be infected that have thawed out, movin’ around again. You want them at the door?”

“Yeah but… why for so long? And why just you two? Group patrols are a thing you know. I’m just sayin’ you have been going out together a lot.” She over-enunciated the last word, snapped the ‘t’ sound harshly.

“Yeah, well, we work well together. And Tommy’s busy with the dam and-tsk! What am I doin’ explainin’ myself to you? You just do what Maria says when I’m away and concentrate on that farmin’ rotation you’ve been given.”

She had folded her arms and looked disgusted. “Urgh, don’t remind me. I think I’d even rather be with you loved-up fogeys than do that shit.”

You had barely been able to stifle your laughter at the look of outrage on Joel’s face. “Ellie-!”

“Oh calm your beard. I know, I know. ‘Nothin’ goin’ on.’”

At that moment you had caught her amused look and a thought had struck you. Was this more than a teenager teasing her father to the point of exasperation? Did Ellie want there to be something between you? She had quickly looked back at Joel who was in the middle of telling her what a pain she was, but you were almost sure of it. For some reason, Ellie wanted this to happen.

It was a notion that had played on your mind a lot as you had journeyed through the freshly budding forest toward the museum. It would explain why she had been making more and more frequent plans for the three of you. For dinner, or to play cards or games, or to occasionally watch movies – the usual things - but then she would leave abruptly, citing tiredness or a forgotten meeting with friends leaving you and Joel alone to spend the evenings together. Though perhaps you were overthinking it and she really did just want to go to sleep, or hang around with people her own age. It would also explain her odd behaviour the evening you had overheard her argument with Joel, at least partially.

Your feelings about him were pretty straightforward. Over the past few months, thanks in part to you being neighbours, to Ellie’s apparent scheming, and the fact you didn’t have much interest in being close with a ton of people, you had spent a fair bit of time with him and had grown to enjoy his company more and more. His humour, which fluctuated between gentle wit and outright acerbity, the cleverness of his mind and of his fingers which could work wood in a way that enthralled you, his kindness toward you and toward Ellie, and of course his physical self, so solid and broad and commanding. Yeah, you were pretty sure your feelings had developed way past the crush stage.

Your thoughts around what you were feeling were a completely different story. Though you had settled into your house, though your panic attacks had abated to the point of being an occasional issue to deal with rather than a thing to dread day to day, you found yourself unable to cross that threshold and begin to embrace the things that you had left behind on the filthy vinyl flooring of a hospital in Portland. That he had managed to get under your skin in just a few short months was alarming, and you still couldn’t pick apart what came from him and what came from the cradling of the security that Jackson itself offered. That you laughed more often, spoke more freely – were these the effects of the tentative sparks in your heart, or just a relaxation of the grip that constant survival had upon your mind and body?

If your behaviours had changed toward him beyond the intricacies of a simple blossoming friendship, he hadn’t seemed to notice, and you hoped you weren’t as transparent about your feelings as you thought you were, though you suspected that some of the people closest to you had an inkling.

On your last patrol, a standard creek run, Vanessa had accompanied you and had brought up the subject as you had ridden through the now fully thawed, though still freezing cold waters.

“So…you and Joel, huh?”

“Oh fuck, not you as well!” you had groaned loudly.

“He’s a handsome man. If I were ten years younger…” she had pursed her lips into a kissy face and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with something that’s not actually happening?” you had wondered to the forest in general.

“Because we live in a small town and there’s not much juicy gossip around?” Vanessa had laughed. “Most folks are paired off already, so when the possibility of two, single, attractive people getting together arises, there’s gonna be some talk.” You opened your mouth to reply but she cut you off immediately. “And don’t come all that shy shit about not being pretty. You are. So’s he. Deal with it.”

You sighed. “Just don’t let him hear any of it. Between you and Ellie he’s gonna have an aneurysm.”

“So you two really never-“

“No!” you exclaimed, more forcefully than you had intended. Vanessa looked a little taken aback and you sighed and spoke more normally. “Not that I’d kick him out of bed-“ her grin stretched widely across her face “-but it’s complicated! He lives right next door. He’s got Ellie to think of. I have a whole fuckload of shitty baggage. And if anything did happen and it went bad what happens then? Do I just…leave? Take my chances outside? Fuck that, I’ve gotten too used to hot water! If it’s a choice between Joel and sleeping in a proper bed, I’m choosing the bed.”

You rode along in silence for a minute or so. Then-

“He’s got a bed too y’know.”

“Jesus, Ness! Let it go,” you had said laughingly.

“Okay, okay fine. Let’s go kill some shit.”

After that, you had begun to notice some of the looks that came your way when you and Joel were together – either at the bar, or when you would be in the stables preparing to ride out together, or even just walking around town. Some of the looks were appraising, some interested, some even a little unfriendly. Joel didn’t seem to notice at all, and you had no idea if that came from a place of obliviousness or intentionality.

The journey to the museum had been pretty uneventful thus far, barring a few lone and wandering infected and the fact that you had to physically clear quite a few paths through the trees with your machete, so you had been able to enjoy how beautiful the forest was in spring – warm dappled sun slanting through the trees, birdsong, trickling streams, the soft wafting of gentle breezes bringing the scent of blossom with them. But riding for so long every day through uneven terrain was definitely taking a toll, and even though you had tried to hide your discomfort from Joel he had worked it out pretty quickly and slowed the pace from the ten hour rides you had been doing. It did help the chafing of your inner thighs. It also meant more time with him, and that wasn’t ever a bad thing.

Your favourite parts of the journey had been the evenings you had spent together – three so far. While Joel prepared the food, you would set up the tent and bedding, and after eating you would sit and talk under the canopy of stars. It was simple, and very much like the routine you had found yourself falling into with him in Jackson, but being outside lent an additional sense of romance to it all. It was silly, you knew that. After all, you and he had both spent many nights sleeping outside out of necessity over the years. And all it took was for one infected to stumble into your camp for the rose tinted vision you had to come crashing down with force. But you allowed yourself to indulge while you could. To listen to his gravelly, whispery tones as he sang softly and strummed his guitar. To watch for shooting stars and pick out the constellations you knew among the mass of twinkling above. To look at him in the moonlight as he cleaned and re-packed the cooking and eating utensils, his movements sparse and graceful.

“Okay, hold up.”

Joel is slowing to a halt ahead and you pull up alongside him to see why. There is a somewhat clear path ahead, a break in the trees where you can see rusted hulks of metal under the snaking green that is slowly reclaiming all in its path. A bus shelter, covered in moss and trailing vines stands to one side, patiently awaiting passengers that will never arrive.

“We getting close?”

He pulls a map from a pocket inside his coat and studies it for a moment before he nods. “Probably another hour’s ride or so. If nothin’ gets in the way.”

“Just don’t say it’ll be smooth sailing or some shit. Else we’re bound to get swarmed.”

He grins at you before setting off again, leading you down the middle of the cracked tarmacked street. Cars are still few and far between here, some with skeletal occupants inside, most abandoned. The grass is beginning to sprout high now there is no layer of snow flattening it, and you hear the skitter of small animals as they run to the safety of the trees while you make your way through their home. Their presence is reassuring. Though animals can’t get infected in the same way that humans can, they still don’t enjoy the company of the fungus anymore than you do. You’re surprised by the lack of infected around, and you voice this to Joel.

“Could be any number of reasons,” he shrugs, keeping his voice low regardless of the apparent safety around you. “This area wasn’t too populated in the best of times. Maybe winter meant they couldn’t move around as much as they usually do. Hell, maybe they migrated south when it got cold. Who knows with those things…oh no.” This last is groaned and you too feel a weariness when you see what he does.

“Welp.” Joel sighs as he surveys the gaping sinkhole that has broken the line of the road you are following. “Guess we’re back to fightin’ our way through.”

You divert from the remnants of the road and begin to struggle your way through the undergrowth, Joel picking the paths of least resistance. The sound of running water grows steadily clearer until you can see the gleam of it through the thinning trees to your right. You follow the fat, slow moving stream as it meanders its way through the landscape, the bank that you are on growing ever higher as you do. Finally, the path narrows to a point that it would be dangerous for the horses to traverse it even in single file, and Joel jumps down from his mount.

“The museum should be right around here. We’re gonna have to leave the horses for a bit.”

“You sure they’ll be okay?”

“Lots of grass, no infected around. They’ll be fine. Probably happy to have a break.”

Joel takes point again, pulling back branches as he goes to make your egress easier while you hug the rocky bank of the stream as it curves below you. A few springtime flowers have begun to push through – tiny purple blue periwinkles, small yellow primroses, startlingly white azaleas that stretch in patches across the earth and mix with the greenery that is also emerging. The small trail of dirt you have been able to follow thus far very rapidly runs out as boulders of increasing size begin to be strewn across your way and loom large to the left. You cast about for another track, but it seems clear what you have to do.

“Looks like we’re swimmin’” Joel sighs, echoing your thoughts.

“I was gonna ask if this water looks clean enough to wash in. Guess I’m about to find out.”

You take the time to button your shirt up over your plain white t-shirt underneath. No need to put on a show, after all. Then you walk down the muddy bank and step tentatively into the water, grimacing as the cold almost immediately rushes into your boots and soaks your socks. Even here in the water there are challenges to overcome. A fallen tree blocks your progression and you take a deep breath before diving underneath it, avoiding the clutches of the branches that spike from it in random directions and the exposed roots that burst from the river bank itself. A hollow in a rock ahead forms a small, submerged tunnel that there is no other way around, and you force yourself to follow Joel and pass through it quickly before you can begin to panic about getting trapped underneath.

After a good five minutes of swimming you reach a place where the stream opens out into a pool, and you both take a moment to survey your surroundings, the high sides of the banks on each side looking like an insurmountable obstacle to your journey onward.

“Which direction?” you ask as you tread water. Joel indicates with a wave of his hand and you point out a place that looks as good as any for landing. He heaves himself up on to the slimy, moss encrusted rock lip and then reaches down to you to give you a helping hand up.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly as you stand, shaking your hands out to try and rid yourself of some of the moisture that now permeates all of your clothes. You try very hard not to look at the way Joel’s wet shirt is now stuck to his skin, the way it hugs the curve of his shoulders and biceps.

“Should just be through there,” he says, pointing in a direction that looks a lot like every other. You begin to move through the trees again, now both dripping a trail of water behind you.

“So what made you think of this as a present?” you ask.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I could get her. I wanted to do somethin’ for her instead y’know? And she told me she wanted to be an astronaut once, so I thought…well I thought about what I woulda done with Sarah. She loved museums, was always draggin’ me to them. And so I looked at the map and wouldn’t ya know…Science museum.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Just practical really,” he says, shortly but not unkindly.

On a few of the evenings you had spent with Joel after being abandoned by Ellie he had mentioned Sarah in passing. What she liked. Things she and Ellie would have bonded over. And once, when a few glasses of wine had been taken, a regret that he had spent so many hours working late when he could have been with her. You hadn’t asked what had happened. Hadn’t needed to. That she wasn’t here and Ellie was told the story very clearly.

“Well, I think this is it,” Joel says, breaking into your thoughts with faint amusement in his voice. You follow the direction of where he’s looking and chuckle.

A life-size Tyrannosaurus Rex stands mightily in the middle of a clearing, ivy twining all the way up its tail to wrap around one of its puny arms. The sun keeps disappearing and reappearing behind some distinctly grey-ish looking clouds and the dappled sunlight adds to its colouring, painting it with stripes of shadow that look like camouflage. It is magnificent, completely intact and standing as king of a small island surrounded by an unplanned lake that you presume is fed by the same stream by which you came, and that laps against the rotting wooden benches that stand here and there. With the trees surrounding it, it looks as if it belongs here in a way that you do not, as if you had been transported back to a time when humanity didn’t exist at all rather than at near-extinction.

The heavy double doors that are the gateway to the museum open easily enough, their shattered glass crunching under your feet as you enter the main atrium. Grass and vines and branches from the trees outside have encroached here, a carpet and wallpaper of nature that breathes life into the dead space and unintentionally adds a more natural backdrop to the dinosaur skeletons that greet you upon arrival.

“Guns out?” you ask Joel, quietly. Though the air is still and all is silent, and it looks as if this place has lain undisturbed since the outbreak, you could never be totally sure.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees, drawing his own.

You move through the darkened corridor into another room, this one lit brightly by the sunlight streaming through a lichen-streaked glass ceiling above. There are several complete dinosaur skeletons here, and as you contemplate the bones it suddenly strikes you how odd it is that these dead things are the same as they were twenty, fifty, a million years ago, yet humanity had gone through a similar extinction event but would leave no legacy except crumbling buildings that would very soon be dust. The bones of the dinosaurs had outlived the humans that had found them so fascinating, and there would be no one to remember the remains of the dominant species before the fungus, no one to witness their passing or mourn their achievements. It was an uncomfortable, maudlin feeling. You reach out and stroke the beak of the mighty Triceratops standing before you.

“Your favourite?”

“Yeah, it was. Is. I don’t think anyone really grows out of having a favourite dinosaur do they?”

“Don’t they?”

You turn to Joel with a disbelieving expression no words required.

“Okay, fine,” he relents laughingly. “I’d have to say my favourite would be…the velociraptor. Those guys were smart. In Jurassic Park at least.”

“Smart enough to be here when we aren’t,” you murmur, your eyes back on the horns and frill of the one in front of you.

“Hey, we’re here aren’t we?” You can hear the continued smile in his voice and it brings one to your own face, stirring a sense of energised recklessness within you. Fuck it. You are here, when so many others aren't. And you aren't going to waste this opportunity.

"You're right. And I'm gonna do something I always wanted to."

You climb the barrier into the place where the Triceratops stands and gingerly press against the bones that are held together with wires, then shake them a little more insistently. They seem sturdy enough.

“Give me a boost, will you?”

“You goin’ up there?” he asks incredulously.

“Joel, I’m going to tell you a secret about women that will blow your mind and is, essentially, the secret to understanding us. All of them, every single woman that ever walked this earth wanted to ride a dinosaur into battle like some prehistoric Valkyrie.”

“That sounds extremely specific,” he grins. “You sure it’s not just you?”

“Nope. All women. True fact.”

“What about the women that didn’t know what dinosaurs were? Like, before they were discovered.” he asks as he joins you next to the Triceratops.

“Nuh-uh,” you say, holding up an admonishing finger at him. “Your logic isn’t welcome here, Miller. All of them. Trust me. And thank me when you use that information to get a date.”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to impart some sassy retort, but instead merely gives you an extremely unimpressed look before sighing heavily and bending down so you can boost yourself up. The skeleton sways a little as you drag yourself into position, but it holds and you shift your backside over the uncomfortable ridges of the bones underneath you before raising your arms triumphantly as you sit behind the big, bony plate on its head.

“Haaaa! I am the dinosaur queen!” you exclaim, forgetting for a moment where you are and the fact that you have not explored this place thoroughly. You slap a hand over your mouth and look down at Joel with wide eyes, listening intently. Silence. No nightmare noises, no rush of infected or living to investigate the source of the sound. Just the cool, still, peaceful air around you.

“Fuck yeah!” you add, lifting your arms to the sky again once you’re sure nothing is coming to get you.

“Christ, woman, you’re worse than the kid,” Joel laughs.

“Oh what I wouldn’t give for a camera right now,” you sigh. “And one of those Viking helmets. And a cape. And a sword.”

“I can see it,” he admits. “Women like riding dinosaurs. Who’da thought it.”

As you slide off the Triceratops he catches you to break your fall, holding you at your waist and gently placing you back on the ground. You try your best to ignore that your shirt rides up a little and his palms brush your bare skin, the hugeness of his hands around you, the latent strength he displays and the soft amusement in his eyes at your antics.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s see what else they’ve got.”

You continue to walk around the exhibits, ostensibly looking for fungus or evidence of spores or infected, but there’s nothing. A creeping of excitement makes its way into your stomach, the gleeful feeling you used to get when going to museums and galleries before. Only this is so much better. No crowds to obscure your lines of sight, no noise interrupting when you read the information plaques, being able to get right up close and see the majesty of just how big they really were.

A spiral staircase to the floor above leads into another dark passageway, this one decorated with white dots in a simulation of stars and when you emerge into the room beyond-

“Oh yeah,” Joel says with a satisfied look. “She’s gonna love this.”

Next chapter

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery

[kay-i-guess]

snow on the beach | Percy Jackson

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Percy Jackson x gn!Reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, a monster

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | an unlikely meeting results in something fucking beautiful

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | based on this request <3 

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.4k ish

Holly shit I need to clear my head. I hear our apartment door slam behind me as I rush down the stairs. My head was reeling, why was this happening and why am I the only one who can see it? I feel their cool air hit my face and I just start walking not sure where I'm going. I'm brought back into my thoughts at the sound of a car horn. I stop and look around I know where I am just a few blocks from my family apartment. I rub my arms to keep myself warm even though it's still early winter it's a cold day and my fleece isn't doing much to keep the brisk wind out. 

I bite my lip as I try to get my thoughts together. Not going to lie to myself my entire life has been pretty wacky. But the last year has been something else. Today was the typing point, the tv was on with the news of some massive fire, but I could have sworn in the crowd amongst the smoke I saw 3 massive dogs, and not like mastiff size like a rhino size with glowing red eyes. When I pointed them out my family all thought I was joking and I played it off like that but the truth was I've been seeing things like that on and off for months now. I know what I saw but no one else can see it and it infuriates me.

I scan my eyes wildly for some answer as if one would be on the streets of new york. 

Fuck it, if no one else can see them then ill just have to pretend to be like them, I've been doing it my whole life just because now I have to add giant scary dogs to the list doesn't mean I can have a giant life crisis. 

I turn to head back but I stop in my tracks just a few meters away was one of them staring right at me. Okay, maybe the pretending could start when I was safe inside my home. I turn the corner and start running I can hear the pounding of its feet, or maybe that's my heart I turn to check if it's behind me but suddenly I slam into something. I tumble onto the sidewalk and I feel burning pain on one side of my body.

“Oh my gods I’m so sorry are you okay” I hear a voice say 

“Im alive if that's what you're asking” I push my body up so I can see who is talking, and my eyes widen as I see what he's holding “fuck dude is it even legal to have that!” I scramble away from the buy with the might I add very deadly weapon” 

“I think so?” his eyes widen as if releasing something “Wait you can see it” 

I wince as I stand up “You mean the fucking sword in your hand? yeah. I can see it” I scan my injuries “Dude these are my favourite pants!” where my knee and leg hit the ground there was a giant tear

“You’re more worried about your pants than the gash in your leg?” he says jokingly 

“Skin will heal my pants will not” I eye him “Who are you anyway and why were you surprised I could see your sword?”    

“Oh um this might sound weird but do you ever see anything” Taking in my bewildered expression he tries to explain “Like weird things and other people cont see them or see something else” 

 My eyes widen in shock my brain is telling me to run as far as I can but for some reason, I blurt out “Like the monster dogs?”

He seemed to be thinking then his eyes lit up “Yes! The ones with red eyes?” 

“That's what I was running from dude! There's one a few blocks around the corner!”

“Oh! Why didn't you say so?” his eyes snapped from me to the corner of the street and back to me “Meet me here tomorrow at noon okay?” 

“Sure?” I’m confused, my head is spinning and the pain from my fall is starting to kick in 

“I'll answer all your questions I promise but right now go somewhere safe. Now!”

 I do just that as I sprint away taking a different route to my home.    

Later that night I was lying in my bed my thoughts spiralling.

Who was the (quite attractive) guy?

Why can he see the same stuff as I can?

Why can I see it?

I groan as I roll over in bed, I can't deal with this right now. Even though I would see him in a few hours it felt like I would have to wait a lifetime. 

✭✭✭

I tap my foot as my eyes dart around the street, I had gotten there early due to my nerves. I gnaw on my lip. What if he died? I would never know, and I would never get answers. 

I glance around again and this time I spot the sea-green eyes I was looking for, I smile out of relief and almost break into a grin as he smiles back from across the street. I can't help it this guy is seriously cute. 

“Oh thank god I had thought you had died” I grab his arm pulling him towards a coffee shop to get out of the cold air.

“Awwww missed me already?” he teases as I push the door open and step inside.

“Don't flatter yourself, you owe me answers.”

We slip into a booth in the back where no one would hear us. 

“So?” I ask 

“So what?” he asked cluelessly

I roll my eyes “Well I know nothing about you except you can see stuff like me, a name would be helpful for starters”

“Percy Jackson at your service, and you are?” he extends his hand 

“Y/N L/N, a pleasure to meet you” I shake his hand and giggle slightly at the formalness of it.

Percy explains about the gods and monsters and how it was all real in our world, then about how he was a demigod and went to a camp with all of them.

I nod slowly “Okay” I can hear my voice shake slightly and I take a deep breath “Cool, cool, cool monsters and Greek gods I can get my head around 

Percy tilts his head slightly scanning my face “You seem to be taking this well”

I laugh lightly “If I'm doing well I hate to see others, but yeah after what I've seen in my life it's not hard to put a reason behind it, even if the reason is slightly mind-blowing” I joke

Percy smiles but then scans my face again,

“What?” I ask he furrows his eyebrows “You keep looking at me like you're trying to figure something out.” I explain 

He sighs “I'm just trying to figure out if you're a half-blood”

 I cut him off “Like you?” 

“Yeah like me, but if you were we should have found you already,” his face told me it was a long story for another day “This might sound weird but do you have both of your parents?”

I laugh thinking he's joking but I stop when I see no humour in his face “I do yea” I tense I don't like where this conversation was going 

“Then you probably like my mom, she is completely mortal but can see through the mist”

“The what? Like fog?” my head was spinning 

“No, like a magical veil”

I shake my head “Can we talk about something else for a minute I think my head is going to explode,” 

“Of course, I remember when I first learned about all this.”

I smile gratefully “Tell me about your friends, from this camp place”

He tells me all about Tyson Grover Annabeth and Jason, it's obvious how much he cares about this place. We're both smiling and laughing, it was the happiest I felt in a while. His smile was contagious.

 After not long enough I look out the window and realized it was getting late 

“I should go, my dad is waiting for me” I sigh

“Oh okay,” he sounds as disappointed as I felt “Can I walk you back?”

The question takes me by surprise 

“Only if you want of course-”

 I cut him off “I would like that”

We grab our coats and I start leading the way.

Too quickly I stop at our apartment complex 

“So this is goodbye?” I ask 

“For now” he smiles reassuringly  

“Oh fuck it” I mumble and lean forward to kiss him on the cheek 

His eyes widen and a smile grows on his face “You missed” he jokes 

My nervousness melts into happiness “I guess il have to try again”

I pull his head down to meet mine, before our lips meet I whisper “I kinda have a crush on you Percy Jackson”

“Me too” and with that he closes the gap between us.

As we pull apart I can feel the coolness on my exposed skin, I look up and gasp

“It's snowing!” 

Our eyes meet and time feels frozen for a second, I'm afraid to speak too scared of ruining the perfect moment. It's like snow on the beach unlikely but fucking stunning.

[aniron48]

Love Letters - Day 9

Here we are at the end of our choose your own adventure, friends. I've said this before, but it's been an absolute delight, doing this with all of you, and writing this together. Your choices shaped every step of the narrative, so if you've enjoyed the story, you should feel proud (and if you didn't, uh, not it? 😉)

If you need to catch up on a day or two, you can find the other installments here. I'll keep this post pinned for a day or two as well, and may put the finished version up on ao3 eventually. Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8

Last, but not remotely least: my wife has been making noises about joining Tumblr, because I told her about this, and she wants to read it in its original form. I hope she does, because all of this is for her. 💜

Conclusion starts below the cut!

And tomorrow at noon, as instructed, he would meet Q in front of the Fighting Temeraire. 

At precisely twelve o’clock, Bond walked into room 34 of the National Gallery. Q was already there, this time, a reversal of the day they’d met a little over a year ago. He’d swapped his anorak for a wool coat, his suit for a navy blue cardigan and a white button-up, and, in a nod to the day, he sported a navy blue bowtie with tiny white hearts on it. So much had changed, since the last time they’d been here, much of it because of the man waiting for him on the bench, looking at a Turner painting.

“James,” Q said as Bond approached. “You got the package I sent?”

“Yes,” Bond said. “It’s the best thing anyone’s ever sent me, Q. Even without the exploding pen. Though thank you for that, by the way, I still haven’t managed to clean up all the confetti hearts. I even found some in my pants, last night.”

“How in the world—actually, never mind, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Bond gestured to the envelope Q was clutching in his right hand. “And you got your letter as well, I see.”

“Yes,” Q said. “I, ah—I haven’t opened it, yet. You’re going to think it’s silly of me, but I was too nervous.”

Bond sat down beside him. “Don’t be nervous,” he said, taking Q’s hand in his own. “You can open it with me, if you like.”

Q nodded. He squeezed Bond’s hand, and then released it, taking a shaky breath as he opened the envelope and began to read.

My darling Q,

A wise man recently told me that I should be honest above all else, in my letter to you, so I’ll start with a small confession: I have read countless love letters in the last few days, preparing to write my first to you. It was the best thing I could have done, but not for the reason you might think: it showed me that there are as many ways to tell someone what they mean to you as there are people in the world.

I needed to know that, because so many of the traditional idioms people use to describe love didn’t seem to fit the way I feel for you. Take “falling” in love, for example. I haven’t found that to be particularly apt. I’ve fallen from any number of things—helicopters, buildings, construction cranes, moving cars—and loving you hasn’t been like any of that.

I’m beginning to suspect that I’m doing an absolutely shit job of writing this letter, but the thing is, so many people treat pain as a kind of virtue, as something that must be surmounted before you gain anything of value. It’s astonishing how untrue that really is, though, and it’s equally astonishing how long it took me to learn it. How the only reason I’ve begun to learn it is because loving you is the only thing in my life that never hurts.

I’m not trying to say that relationships are effortless. I’m not that daft. What I mean is—loving you isn’t falling at all, Q. It’s a lie-in on a Sunday, with you in my arms, and the cats at our feet, and the certain knowledge that all of me is welcome there. That all of me is home, because by some miracle you know me better than anyone, and you love me anyway.

So much of my life is a fight, and you remain the most effortless surrender.

I love you with all of me, Q. And I always will.

Love,

Your James

Q sniffed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to swipe at his face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not crying.”

“Of course not,” Bond said. He reached out to wipe Q’s cheeks with his thumbs, and rested his forehead against Q’s. He stayed there for a long moment, leaning into Q, feeling the warmth of his body alongside his own.

“We’re quite the matched set, aren’t we?” Q asked eventually.

“I’d say so,” Bond said. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.“ He reached into the leather satchel at his feet, and pulled out the snow globe he’d bought in Bath. “I bought this to throw Moneypenny and Tanner off the track, but do you know, it’s rather grown on me.”

Q shook it, and watched as snow fell on the replica of the Bath Circus. His smile widened.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

“By the way, I presume that Moneypenny and Tanner aren’t actually having an affair.”

“Do you know, I’d convinced them to go down with me to Bath to mail your package, since we all had the Saturday morning free—I thought we’d make a day of it. If you’d taken the train into Bath, instead of driving, you might have run into all of us. As it was, I had to take the train back by myself. But I gather I had the more comfortable journey.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, looking at the Fighting Temeraire on the wall.

“Does it still make you melancholy, when you look at it?” Bond asked.

“Maybe a little. It’s a melancholy painting, in many ways. A painting about change. But then, not all change is bad, is it? Something ends, and something else begins. Maybe there’s hope in it, in its own way.” Q shifted on the bench, turning to look at Bond. “And what about you? Do you still just see a bloody big ship?”

“Well,” Bond said, considering. “There are actually two ships, sailing toward the viewer, aren’t there? The older, wiser, stately ship, and the younger, cheekier ship there in the front, dragging the older one into the future whether he wills it or no. It’s a metaphor, you see.”

“A metaphor for what, exactly?”

“The ships are a metaphor. The painting’s actually about shagging.”

“Oh my god. And here I was starting to think you were a romantic.”

“I contain multitudes.”

“I do love you, you know,” Q said. “In case you needed reminding.”

“I do,” Bond said. “Frequently.” He reached up to tuck a stray curl behind Q’s ear. “And I love you too. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Q looked down at his watch. “Do you want to have a look around? I took the day, but if you have to be back at work—“

“There’s nowhere I need to be,” Bond said. “We have time.”

The gallery slowly started to fill up with people, students and tourists and docents giving tours, eddying around the pair of them like boats in a harbor. Some of them may have noticed them sitting there, the agent and his quartermaster, looking for all the world like an ordinary couple on a Valentine’s Day outing. Others never noticed them at all. But they stayed for a long while, and then they were gone, and when they left, they left together.

[kay-wren]

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 50

Rafe woke up around noon the next day. He awoke to Jessie still asleep right beside him, naked of course, after the long night they had. Rafe couldn't forget it even if he tried, and of course he didn't want to. It was just like when they were teenagers, the Coke doing its job of taking over their mind and bodies, creating a never ending night that would leave them with the best sleep of their life. Strung out sex was always their favorite, and as much as Rafe didn't want to admit it, that fact still remained true no matter how much he hated it. He couldn't believe he actually gave in. Then again... Jessie always had her ways.

Rafe was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt Jessie stir beside him. He looked down to see her turning her head over to face him, slowly opening her eyes and blinking away the blurriness. She had a sweet smile on her face that suddenly made all of Rafe's worries take a backseat. He reciprocated by propping himself up on one arm and tilting his head, displaying a loving smile as he swept some hair out of her face. Jessie couldn't help but notice how perfectly his arm was flexing as he held himself up.

"Hi." Jessie said sweetly as she scrunched her nose up a little. Suddenly Rafe remembered his second favorite thing about nights like last night... the Jessie he got the next morning. She always seemed particularly lovey the next morning, although it was always short lived back then considering one of them always had to leave almost immediately to sneak back into their respective houses.

"Hi." Rafe responded simply, barely above a whisper. Jessie quickly brought herself closer to Rafe, snuggling up into his chest and wrapping a leg around his torso. Rafe simply laid back down and cuddled her closer, knowing this was customary for Jessie after long nights like the one they just had. Jessie brought her hand up to one of Rafe's that was laying contently on his chest, slowly intertwining their fingers and playing with them. Rafe didn't dare say anything, out of fear of ruining such a perfect moment of just being together with no interruptions. In the entirety of their relationship, that was something they never got much of. Peaceful moments like this were odd for them, and both of them were too scared to break the silence because of it. But of course, leave it to Jessie to never let her fear determine her next move.

"Did you have fun last night?" Jessie asked, not bothering to look up at Rafe. She felt the subtle rise and fall of his chest, indicating a slight laugh. She could almost bet he was smiling and shaking his head in amusement.

"Yes I did, baby." Rafe replied. Jessie now brought her face up to meet his with a shit eating grin. Rafe could read her mind.

"I knew you would!" Jessie responded knowingly with a subtle point of her finger upwards. Rafe just scoffed and shook his head once more at Jessie.

"You need to get that cocky little attitude under control." Rafe demanded as he grabbed the pillow behind Jessie and started whacking her with it, not enough to hurt of course. Jessie just kept screaming and trying to block the blows through laughter. Eventually Rafe let up on the brutal beat down and found himself back in the same position he started in, staring down at Jessie once more. He sighed in contentment as he noticed a peculiar look on his wife's face.

"What time is it?" Jessie asked, suddenly growing a little more concerned. Rafe looked over at his phone and grabbed it.

"Almost noon." He said with surprise laced in his voice.

"Oh my gosh!" Jessie exclaimed as she sat up. "I didn't realize we had slept that late! JJ's probably blowing up my phone!" Jessie said as she frantically rummaged through her bedside table to find her phone and take it off the charger. Jessie's surprise turned into disappointment as she realized she had no missed calls or texts from her brother. Rafe noticed her change in demeanor and he looked a little closer at her, bringing his hand to her face.

"Hey..." Rafe whispered, trying to get Jessie's attention. She looked up at him with sadness in her eyes.

"He hasn't called... not even a text..." Jessie trailed off, concern evident in her words. Rafe just smiled and tilted his head.

"Well maybeeee that's because he's trying to give you some time to actually enjoy yourself. You'll hear from Charley tonight I bet."

"But what if somethings wrong, what if-"

"Jess, they're adults. They can handle it. That's what you've been trying to convince me of this whole time, right?" Rafe insisted. Jessie just sighed and let go of the tension in her back.

"Yeah..." She admitted with a hint of embarrassment as she realized how dependent she was on her child. Rafe didn't mind at all, though, of course. He secretly worried too, but that wasn't for Jessie to see. He made sure to send his brother in law a quick text to encourage him to send some pictures of their daughter her way just to ease her mind.

"Let's go get some breakfast." Rafe suggested as he got up from the warm bed, quickly regretting his decision and scrambling to put some clothes on. His feet hit the cold wood floor and the cold mountain air that couldn't help but seep through the cabin walls gave his shirtless chest goosebumps. Jessie followed suit, quickly finding a sweatshirt and pants for the same reasons.

The two of them headed downstairs and as Jessie was walking into the kitchen she noticed Rafe stopped in the living room. She turned her body back around with an inquisitive look.

"What're you doing?"

"I'm starting a fire, it's cold in this bitch." Rafe said as he rubbed his hands together for dramatic effect. Jessie just laughed in agreement as she watched Rafe put the cut up wood in the wood stove. After a few minutes of coaxing the kindling, they finally had a fire that would roar all day.

Rafe met Jessie in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind as she admired all that was in the fridge.

"How do we have food when you haven't been here in years?" Jessie asked, not letting her eyes wander from the plethora of fresh food in front of her.

"Baby... my dad had someone specially hired to iron his business ties... you think I can't call someone to get some groceries delivered?"

Jessie just laughed and shook her head at the statement. She wasn't even surprised.

"Kook shit." Was all Jessie could muster through a judgmental chuckle as she turned her body to see Rafe laughing along with her. He knew it was Kook shit too, but sometimes it has its perks. Jessie wrapped her arms around Rafe's neck and began to rub her hands along his back. He reciprocated by pulling her closer and looking contently into her eyes with a smile. Suddenly Rafe saw Jessie's eyes turn a little darker and her smile turn into a smirk.

"I know what we could do to keep us warm." Jessie hinted. Rafe returned the look with a smirk as well.

"What's that?" Rafe asked as he gently swayed them back and forth. Of course, the question was rhetorical. He knew exactly what they could do to keep themselves warm... or he thought he did.

"Those high noons in the fridge will keep us nice and toasty." Jessie replied with a cheeky smile and an innocent nod. That's not where Rafe was expecting the conversation to go, and of course he was a little let down for more than one reason.

"Jessie..." Rafe sighed with an eye roll. Clearly he was judging her, and Jessie could tell. She suddenly became defensive.

"What?" She snapped with a disgusted look on her face as she leaned back a little more from her husband, not enough to get out of his grip, but enough for the both of them to notice the newfound distance.

"We're not getting drunk, okay? That's not gonna help anything and you know it. Besides, when we get drunk... one thing leads to another... you know that... you saw that last night."

Rafe prepared for the impending lecture based on the storm brewing behind the eyes he was staring at.

"First of all... I don't need to get drunk to make the decisions I did last night. I don't even need alcohol in general to make those decisions, so I don't regret it, and neither should you. This is our trip where we get to do what we want when we want and we don't have to explain ourselves to anyone." Jessie explained.

"Yeah, but..." Rafe sighed as he searched for the right words to say. "You and I both know that nothing good comes out of what we did last night."

Jessie understood where Rafe was coming from, but this was always the game they played. Jessie teaching Rafe to live a little more, and Rafe teaching Jessie to live a little less. Rafe still thought that Jessie wasn't afraid enough of the consequences of her actions. Even after years of growing up, that never changed.

"You need to change your definition of good." Jessie simply said. The answer threw Rafe. He didn't understand what she meant by that. Jessie decided to ignore his look of confusion and shimmy out of his grip and back to the fridge to grab some milk and chocolate syrup.

"So the question is..." Jessie asked nonchalantly as if she hadn't just had a serious conversation about impending consequences. "Since it's past noon, are we gonna eat breakfast or lunch?" Jessie asked as she grabbed the contents she was looking for and set them on the counter, looking up at Rafe for an answer. He still had his brows furrowed in confusion, clearly still trying to figure Jessie out. He was still always amazed at how she could just flip a switch and change the conversation like nothing just happened. Although, he knew her well enough to know it was simply a defense mechanism. This time, he wouldn't give in and change the subject. This was important... this was why he was here: to get Jessie back on the right track. She seemed to only be regressing further into the woman he had seen before she left. The wild child once again trying to convince the wallflower to "live a little", and he had seen that movie before... and hated the ending. Rafe shook his head to try and pull himself out of his thoughts.

"Jessie..." Rafe scoffed as he looked around the room in disbelief. "You can't ignore this conversation. You're slipping- slipping back into old habits that made you leave in the first place and-"

"My habits was not what made me leave Rafe!" Jessie interrupted with a pointed finger at her husband and venom in her words. "Are we seriously still on this? You're seriously still throwing it back in my face that I left?!"

Rafe grunted as he threw his hands up in the air and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand on his hip, clearly unsure of what to say. Finally, he found the words.

"Jessie." Rafe snapped. "I'm not blaming you for leaving, I'm just saying I've seen where this leads, and you have to! We can't keep doing this! We have a daughter now. We can't keep getting drunk, we can't keep smoking weed, we can't keep doing coke! Don't you get it?!"

The room went silent as Rafe caught his breath, his chest heaving slowly up and down. Jessie took notice of his chest becoming slightly more defined under his white tshirt and the veins in his arms sticking out a little bit more. She looked down at the counter in front of her and swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing that he had a point.

"It's just that..." Jessie squeaked out, now looking up at Rafe. "I've lived my whole life being the adult for everyone in my life. My dad, JJ, and especially Charley... you were the only one I didn't have to be the parent to. Doing all the things we used to do just... just brought that feeling back. That weightless feeling." Jessie explained through a broken voice. No tears. She had no tears left to cry. After all, she was never a cryer. Still, Rafe never took her lack of waterworks any less seriously when she opened up like this. He moved a little close to her with sympathy in his eyes.

"Jess..." Rafe whispered with a slight laugh and a smile that she didn't understand. "You've always been weightless. Before you met me. You never needed drugs, you never needed alcohol." Rafe explained as he cupped the side of her face, begging her to understand. Jessie just looked away from his chest and up to his eyes, this time with tears brimming and an angry frown.

"That's what you think." Jessie simply replied as she played with the skin on her lips. In all their late night talks, their marriage, and their reunion, and Rafe just now understood what she meant. Jessie had never made it so clear before. She partied. She did drugs. She drank alcohol. All to numb the pain and relieve the pressure of the parentification she had been a victim of her entire life. No words needed to be said, and yet Rafe understood. He felt like he had unlocked a new level in their relationship and gone into the deepest part of Jessie's soul. Jessie felt the same way, and she physically felt the hurt it brought her to do so. But Rafe could see the pain in her eyes, and all he could do to try and stop the aching of her heart was to hold her precious broken face in his calloused hands. He slowly and gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her delicately into his chest. Suddenly he felt unworthy of holding such beauty in his arms. Rafe understood Jessie better than he ever had before. Yet she didn't cry, hardly a sniffle, only falling into the warm embrace of her tenderhearted husband. When Rafe felt it was time, he finally broke away, but not before taking Jessie's face in his hands once more and looking deep into her eyes with a look that showed he really wanted her to listen.

"We don't have to be those people anymore." Rafe whispered with tears in his eyes. Jessie's lips quivered and quickly turned into a sob, this being the first time anyone had ever really told her she did not have to hold onto any semblance of her past to keep her safe. Rafe held her there, finally proving to her that she didn't have to fall prey to a vice of any kind, and that he would be her safety.

[barbex]

Hello and happy Friday! I’d love to see a story combining the prompts “Your bed after travelling” and “I’m better when I’m with you.”

Oh, tricky prompts for @dadrunkwriting. Thank you, I made it fenders, of course.

--

"I still don't understand why you came with me," Anders says. They've been stomping along the Wounded Coast in pouring rain, searching for a rare plant he needs for a special potion. 

Fenris glares at the muddy puddles on the path and then steps into them with his naked feet with stoic acceptance. "You should not go alone."

"I've been out here alone plenty of times, I don't need a bodyguard."

Fenris flinches at that and his usual scowl seems to go darker. 

Anders thinks back to what he said and cringes. "That's not a good word for you, is it? Being a mage's bodyguard is probably the last thing you want to be." Anders sighs. "Sorry, really, I didn't mean to drag up that kind of shit." 

Fenris' sigh sounds just like his own. "It is no big issue."

"Because you chose it yourself?"

For the first time since they walked through the gates of Kirkwall, Fenris looks at him. "Yes, maybe because I am free to choose."

"Which brings me back to my initial question," Anders says, well aware of how annoying he is. "Why are you here? Did Hawke tell you to —"

"Hawke does not order me to do anything."

"I sure hope so." Anders fumbles for the waterskin on his belt and leans on his staff to drink some water. "You should drink something, too. I know it feels silly, what with all this rain and being wet and I think my shirt is dissolving on my back, but we still have to drink water to —"

"I know, mage." Fenris stops and drinks from his own waterskin. His white hair looks grey from the rain, plastered against his forehead. Anders stares at his throat as he swallows and quickly looks away. Noone should look this sexy when they are wet like a rat and drink from a waterskin. It's just not fair.

As he looks around, something seems familiar. "I've been here not so long ago. There's an abandoned farm not far from here, the house may still have most of its roof." 

"I would appreciate getting out of this rain."

Anders opens his mouth to ask, again, why Fenris even came out here, but he stops himself. Fenris will say what he wants to say and nothing else, and that's a good thing. 

The ruined farm looks terrible, but the overgrown roof keeps out the rain. Anders leans the broken door back against the frame to keep the wind out and secures it with a broken chair. 

"How do you know of this place?" Fenris asks, wrinkling his nose.

"You, with your rotting mansion, should not complain. At least there are no corpses lying around here." Anders peers into the fireplace, up the chimney. "I think this still works." A bit of ash trickles onto his face. He coughs, pulling his head out. "I'm gonna start a fire, with magic."

He waits for Fenris to nod and then trows a log into the fireplace and ignites it with a fireball. When he turns back around, Fenris stands right in front of him. "Whoah, sorry."

"Hold still," Fenris says and the way his voice makes Anders freeze is a story for another time. "You have something here, on your face." Using the cuff of his sleeve, Fenris wipes something away under Anders' eye. He looks critically at the spot, then licks his thumb and wipes at it again. 

This close, Anders can see the three dots of lyrium on his forehead, how the edges of the markings are darker than the lyrium. He can see the brown spots in the green irises of his eyes and he can only stare, not daring to breathe.

"How do you know this farm?" Fenris asks as he lowers his hand.

Anders takes a careful breath. Fenris is still so close. "We ran into slavers. They had slaves, elves, so young and tired. We stayed in here for the night, to let them gather their strength."

"The slaves, where were they from?"

"From all over, Tevinter, Nevarra, and some they've picked up along the way."

Fenris lowers his head and takes a step back. "Hawke never told me she met slaves from Tevinter." 

"No offence, but you weren't exactly open to meeting other people." How can he say this without angering Fenris? "The way you reacted to Orana, her timidness..."

Fenris' shoulders drop like he is defeated. Which is a much tamer reaction than Anders expected. 

"I am aware that I can be... arrogant," Fenris says. "This is why I wanted to come with you. I am a better person when I'm with you. You make me question myself, you make me think."

"Me?"

Fenris looks at him. "Yes, you."

"But I..." Anders throws his hands up. "All I ever do is make you angry and then you yell at me that all mages should be locked up and —"

"I don't think that, not anymore." Fenris takes off his wet coat and begins to unbuckle his leather armor. "You should take off your wet clothes too."

Anders needs a few moments to catch up. "Yes, I should." As he drapes his coat over the remains of a cupboard and slips out of his trousers, he comes back to what Fenris said. "So, you don't hate me anymore?"

"I never hated you." Fenris' voice is nearly inaudible. 

Anders turns around, only to see Fenris sitting on the dry blanket from his pack, in front of the fire, and Anders' woollen blanket draped over his shoulders. And underneath, he is naked. Anders discards the rest of his clothes in a daze and steps over to where Fenris sits.

"Come here," Fenris says as he holds the blanket open for him. 

Nervous laughter and stupid jokes are Anders' favourite methods of diffusing awkwardness and he easily falls back into that habit. "Well, if you wanted me to get naked with you, you only had to say so." He folds his legs to the side as he sits down, his knees bumping against Fenris' thighs.

Fenris drapes the blanket over Anders' shoulder. His arm drops back to the front, his hand clenching in the blanket's fabric. "I would prefer to be naked in your bed with you, after all this travelling." 

The sound of the rain hammering on the old roof drowns out in the rushing of blood in Anders' ears. He turns slowly to look at Fenris, waiting for a sarcastic smile, for an expression of disgust, assuring him he could never mean it. "What?"

Fenris looks up, meeting his gaze, and there is no sign of disgust or anger on his face. "I would like to have you naked, in your bed or in mine, if you prefer."

"But..." Anders stares at Fenris, weighing his next words. "Do you even like me?"

Fenris looks down at his hand. "Yes. I may have failed at showing you. This," he puts his hand on Anders' chest, "this is all I know." He looks at Anders with pleading eyes. "Have I misjudged? Have I assumed —"

Anders grabs Fenris' shoulders, pulls him to his chest, and kisses him as if his life depends on it. When they break apart, they're both panting and shivering from something other than the cold. 

"You have not misjudged," Anders says. "But we probably should work on our communication." 

Fenris leans closer, nuzzling the skin under Anders' ear. "Does communication involve kissing?"

Anders gasps as Fenris trails kisses along his jaw. "It does now."

[supercriminalbean]

Things that made me insane during criminal minds evolution:

Written while I watched so enjoy my bumbling mess. Spoiler alert of course.

Episode 7:

I've seen spoilers this time so I sad oh we. It's mainly only because of Garcia stuff.

The women in the opening looks like my old friend..huh weird.

Why did deputy dipshit do the opening quote gross.

Oh no it's the JJ and Penelope from season 3 scene but worseeeeee.

Emily is concerned and thinking.

Garcia baby you need a friend your obliviously not okay you need support.

Emily is a mood.

So I'm emotionally lately and Papa Rossi with Tara I'm cryinggg.

Okay no. I'm sorry but look I LOVE Tara I do and I get she just got broken up with but hear me out hear. When Luke and JJ almost died they didn't even get to go home for a sleep before they had to keep going on the case but Dave Is trying to get Tara to take 3 days off (hell yes she desever it but not my point right now) JJ in the last episode qas exhausted and honstely she's probably close to a break down and no one e is there for her apart from Will of course but what happened to the team that use to be a family please. It so broken.

I need David Rossi to give me a dad talk or someone to give me a dad talk please.

Where's Luke??? Ughh I'm over the writers.

Oh hi Luke never mind.

I fucking love Rossi and Luke they feed of each other I swear 😂

JJ your so quite baby. Your so pretty I love you.

The deputy douchbag is growing on me.

He was now no more.

Okay I love him again

Am I the only one who ships him and Emily? I mean no what no I don't...

Mm Ellias 😍

Rossi 😳😳 I uh um. I was looking at that yesterday to.

Everytime I hear them mention Reid I get excited but I know it's just teasing.

Boss, JJ, Double Boss. Only Garcia haha baby 😂

Emily freeze definitely scared the fuck out of Penelope you can't tell me otherwise. It scared me.

Emily is scared haha.

Emily same.

Committed to pleasure oh baby that's one type of pleasure huh.

He spent the night at my house..

EMILY GROAN IS ME I LIVE FOR IT.

EMILY FACE IS TO RELATABLE RIGHT NOW WHY IS SO HOT ALSO LIKE FUCK MOMMY?!?!!!

Penelope is scared and then was like a bitch like bruhh

I have to say tho even without Prentiss being a profiler just her being friends with Garcia for so long she knew she wouldn't call him today.

I can not take this episode seriously im sorry I love Garcia right now she reminds me of me this weekend.

I'm also Emily at my friend's decision in men.

The little I love you when she leaves.

Garcia needs to get her shit together but why is Noone asking her what she's up to? Does anyone check in on Penelope and JJ anymore like thoes two were always there for the team. Derek and Spencer were thier supporters and so was Hotch now they gone so just thoes two thinking they are all alone again because they have trust issues someone hug them please.

I'm starting to like deputy director he cool man just don't lie to people man, but damn he good at.

Why is Luke called Alvez by everyone it's weird.

Moose aww, I was also suprised the girl was alive.

Tara baby I wanna hug you.

Garcia please talk to him.

David Rossi I love you but why can't you fucking see that JJ and Garcia are not okay. Thank you.

Haha okay when the deputy director speaks and Rossi stares at him I just shkgfybsuajb fall in idk not love maybe I just need to get laid.

Bailey smile is cute haha dumbass I think you might die soon.

Fuck why is Luke in leather hot

The way Emily glance at him damn.

Okay I was hoping for Lesbian Emily this season ugh.

Mm Elias swearing 🥵🥵 holy crap me I'm not good

Nooo where did grace go???

Bitch don't follow the lights you dumbass

Aww I love this girl haha her view of God is great.

Garcia. Okay I know I KNOW we don't like this Tyler Green situation but his smile when she speaks is cute why can't I get a person to smile like that at me.

I love Garcia rambling its so cute.

Tyler getting it is good I like this it's good.

Um no do not go over!!! At least have Emily or JJ over please!! Or even better Luke... jealous Luke...please.

Ugh I'm sorry but I hate it I HATE it when females think they can push or slap other when annoyed or angry and think it's okay but if a man did it oh hell no. Ughhh Elias your wife annoys me.

Omg he was really so close to killing her and that's kinda hot and sad.. and I need therapy.

Grace and Ashley are awwww.

Bailey is cute and Emily Is adorable.

Bailey didn't lie, not suprise love it.

BAILEY I 100% UNDERSTAND I NEED MORE MEN MY DADS AGE TO DISAPOINT TO. but for different reasons...unless you also uhu.

Come and get it Mother fucker 😂

I hope Ashley lives.

Aww Bailey dumbass put pressure on the wound. I know it's late.

He's so sweet 😭😭 if I'm dying can he hold me please.

Oh no another crush on a fictional man ahhhhh noooooo. No no no. Oh fuck it why not.

Elias shot your wife please I don't like her.

He's not leaving for good it'd just a little while damn. Why they crying are they like not use to this. Doesn't he travel alot for work anyway I don't get it? Do I just have trauma and use to this shit?

Rossi ugh fuck you. Like yes Tara needs love but JJ just seems sad like please something wrong.

Holy fuck Will hi I missed you.

Oh shit 😂

I'm sorry but I love them but somethings wrong.

Noooo the case is closed haha Emily won't let that happen.

Tyler fuck off!!!!

He hot tho and the way he looks at her Is kinda cute.

TYLER SHUT UP PLEASE YOU ARE RUINING MY HOPES FOR LUKE.

I mean he's not lying Penelope Garcia also saved my life.

Her smile her smile her smile!

His smile his eyes.

No shut up Garia ew yes hot yes kinky yes I want you to say that to me (and Luke) but not him.

Like I don't like it but at least we finislly get to see Penelopes love life without stupid Kevin because when she dated Sam (season 9 to 11) IT DISAPPEARED.

NO PENELOPE NO! BAD PENELOPE!

Rossi please get some rest, I'm worried.

Oooh his own kill kit

Rossi gonna get himself killed.

Haha neighbor same, omg the song choice nooooo. Omg no no 😂😂

Okay I'm GARCIA! actually no I'm blaming that line on. KIRSTEN VANGSNESS!!!

THIS SCENE IS SO HOT HOLY FUCK.

His grin, the books,the heavy breathing. She totally rided him hard. But his hair isn't messed up weird.

Okay so um thoughts I know we want Derek go come back to knock some sense into Penelope but I don't think he's going to be that good... you know who we need.. we need and I know the Writers are going to really really struggle on this but um what about bringing but... JJ, Emily and Tara. OH WAIT THEY NEVER LEFT BUT SOMEHOW THE FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN THOES FOUR IS COMPLETELY GONE!!!!!!!!!BRING IT BACK! Or at least JJ and Penelope or please please after season 13 Emily just doesn't seem to like JJ any more. WHY?! GIVE ME A REASON AND MY FAMILY BACK.

Also Luke. Why is he even in the show? If your not going to give him much to do your just fucking us off. WE WANT LUKE WE WANT MORE LUKE.

[womanlives]

i'm not mad. i don't know what i am. ( hello yes mercy/jie)

“Just — ”

Mercy turns away from him, paces across the kitchen. Her eyeliner’s smudged, and she smells like gunsmoke and iron. And lilacs, too, but only just.So she did a gig without him. Hypocritical, spiteful little creature — if you’re gonna fuck up criminals, Jie, at least send me a text first, yeah? So what. Why would he care. He’d just said it himself. He’s not mad.

So what.

Why does she care.

Didn’t. Doesn’t. She breathes in, out, then turns to face him. She’s half-lit by the fluorescents overhead, hanging on for dear life, and half-obscured by the midnight coming in through the window. Always half-in, half-out. Can’t ever seem to commit to anything, never, because god forbid she pick wrong.

There’s a scowl on her face. He’s not mad, but she is. Fucking hell. Why’s he even here? Her heist’d gone as clean as it could. In ‘n out, record time, name and address of the next pawn in her pocket. Hadn’t even needed a gun, neither. Sure, there’d been a night-guard on the second-story floor. But that’s what unstable balcony rails were for.

“Just be mad,” she says — dares, really — and tosses her head like a bad-broke filly. Dark hair falls over her eyes. There’s something brittle in it: her tone, her posture, her anger. Forced. Possums play dead when nervous. Mercy plays mad, because it’s the only thing she knows what to do with. “Mad’s easier, don’tcha think?”

A whisper of a smile, but it backslides all-too-fast into a smirk.

“Yell at me, wave your fist — call me bad shit. I’m a liar. I don’t follow through. Whatever makes you feel good.” A shrug. Mercy leans back against the edge of the refrigerator. Feels its old, rickety, uneven hum ride up her spine. She crosses her arms over her chest. God, if only her sisters could see her now. Arms crossed? Really? Walled off? How obvious can you be? Her smirks gets a glimmer of teeth. “I’ll yell back, say something I don’t really mean. Maybe I’ll throw something, but I like you, so I won’t throw it at you. Then we’ll kiss and make up and sleep ‘til noon so we can start this whole goddamn cycle all over again.”

She’s grinning fully now, rabid dog. Like she said. Mad’s easier. Don’tcha think?

“Unless — ” Treacherous. Desperate. Don’t. “ — you got a better idea.”

Treacherous. Desperate. Don’t.

The mask breaks. She loses her nerve at the last minute. Mercy tilts her face, as if hiding a laugh, and ducks to open the fridge instead.

@tewwor babies only !!!!!!!

[osmorphosis]

240126-27: house rave with chloe friday evening to support ralphie, who has an art booth there. supposed to be from 11pm-12pm the next day. i stay until 4am and decide to leave bc im supposed to be meeting up with lorenzo saturday noon. google maps AND chrono tell me the bus will be a few minutes late. i leave EARLY to get to the bus ON TIME in case its NOT late. i get to the bus stop one minute before the right bus time. there is no bus. i look at google maps. the bus departed EARLY FFS. i go back to the rave and decide to wait for the metro to restart bc there is no other optimal night bus routes. i take another pill of molly bc atp wtf am i supposed to do. however at some point, ralphie thinks they might’ve gotten roofied. we’re like ok we’ll stay with you. they start getting really sleepy, not sure if it’s just tiredness or actually roofing. chloe watches over ralphie’s booth while i go to the bed to watch over them while they sleep. i’m high af at that point and i’m sitting there shaking trying to make yzl’s departure necklace while surrounded by so much weed i can barely see lmfao. chloe comes to sleep too. i’m watching over both of them but they’re fucking SOUND asleep so i don’t dare wake them up to leave. moss comes around 8am to check on us. at this point people are clearing out, they’re making breakfast and the sun is up. i leave the bed but have to go watch over ralphie’s booth. a bit before 9am i’m like fuck i have to go + there’s barely anyone anymore so i go tell asleep ralphie and chloe that i’m leaving (moss is still there so).

i get home at around 9am. take care of cat. take a shower bc i’m probably covered in weed. try to listen to 4th wall while in bed and end up falling asleep probably like 30 min my supposed wake-up time.

i’m supposed to meet lorenzo at 12:30……. i wake up at 1:45pm. i want to kms. i srsly consider just never answering him and like ,,,, yeah. block him and let him believe im a catfish. but i’m shameless so. i apologize profusely. still want to kms. feels like the world is ending bc it’s so embarrassing and just SO terrible so so so bad and terrible. he’s the most understanding ever which makes me feel like even more shit. he tells me we can meet quickly at the metro to say hi. i consider not going bc that’s so embarrassing how can i even face him like he should be cutting me tf off. but i go bc i have to apologize in person. we say hi. i apologize profusely. i give him a pretty rock mel gave me (long story). he’s so sweet and forgiving and understanding it makes me feel even shittier. but somehow i lowkey almost feel more bonded?? if our friendship can survive this then !!

that’s it, the crazy ends here. i spend the evening with yzl for the last time before her exchange. she sheds a few tears at my letters (i cooked) which makes me feel so much love for her and so loved in return. friendship is beautiful! friendship is rewarding! there is nothing that has been quite as emotional gratifying as friendship! i am so so so emotionally fulfilled by my friendships <3