#ii. i knew it the moment we met ; you are supposed to be in my life one way or another. mybadtm

[viking-raider]

Salt in Our Wounds - CHAPTER IV

Summary-> Gus is healing and moving about. However, nothing is sunshine around the house.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 3.3k

Chapters-> I II III

Warnings-> PG-13: Language, Deception, References to WWII

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

“You told our father what?” Edmund barked, as you met him outside the cottage, the next morning.

You had peeked out the window for him, ever since you woke.

“Well,” You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “It was Gus that thought on his feet and told Papa that he was working with you on things around the house.” You repeat yourself, licking your lips. “We had to tell him something, when he found Gus coming out of the bathroom, after his shower.”

Edmund carded a hand through his hair and paced on the small porch. “So, you told him that Gus was a carpenter from another village, who's come over to help me put up shelves in the basement and do repairs around the cottage?”

“Yes.” You nodded, fidgeting. “What else were we to tell him, Eddie? I just opened the front door and grabbed some random man off the street, who looked as if he needed a shower?” You huffed, a tad frustrated.

“No.” He sighed, waving his hand, a tired expression coming over his face. “No, the two of you did the right thing. I suppose it's just as good an excuse to explain him to Pops than any other.” He exhaled again and stopped pacing. “Right well, is the man handy with a hammer or saw?”

“I haven't the slightest clue.”

“I'll find out.” Edmund replied, motioning you both inside and found Gus sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading his book.

Edmund looked at you with a lifted brow and you gave him a look that said, why not, since your father knew he was there, making your brother roll his eyes.

“Good morning, Edmund.” Gus greeted him, setting his book down.

“Morning.” He answered, narrowing his eyes at the other man, sitting nonchalantly at the table. “Are you ready to work today?” He asked, squaring his shoulders.

“I am.” Gus answered, taking a gulp of his coffee, unphased.

“Not before the two of you eat breakfast.” You spoke up, pulling your apron on. “So, park yourself at the table.” You ordered Edmund, pointing to the chair across from Gus, defusing the brewing cloud of male bravado.

Sighing, Edmund pulled the chair out and plopped into it, giving you a short nod as you set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of him. Blowing gently on it, he stared across at Gus, who had returned to his book, but felt the other man's eyes on him and lifted a brow over the top of his page. Edmund cocked a brow back at him.

“So, Gus.” Your father called out from the sitting room, having kept his own eye on him since Gus appeared upstairs.

“Yes, sir?” Gus answered, respectfully setting his book down again and tilting slightly to the side to give Mael his attention.

“Why aren't you fighting in the War?”

“Papa!” You gasped, head jerking in his direction, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “That's rude.” You whined at him, frowning.

“It's all right.” Gus replied, smiling sweetly at you. “I don't mind.” He assured you, then looked back at Mael. “I'm a Conscientious Objector, being Evangelical.” He explained to him, causally.

Mael stared at Gus for a long while, fluttering and tapping the pencil between his fingers against his map. The sizzle of hotcake batter on the red-hot griddle and the bubble of the percolator on the counter filling the quiet space, as no one spoke. Finally, Edmund grunted, shrugging his shoulders and taking another sip of his coffee, putting the atmosphere back into some reasonable balance.

“At least, he's not a deserter or a Nazi.” Edmund commented, putting his coffee cup down and picking up the newspaper you'd set on the table.

“Exactly.” You trumpeted, nodding your head, a tingle of relief running through you, turning back to the griddle to flip the hotcakes. “How many cakes do you want, Papa?” You asked, shoveling the steaming rounds onto a serving plate.

“Three, Peanut.” He answered, still tapping his pencil, but his eyes had shifted to the uneven hardwood floor.

Nodding, you shifted three over onto his plate, before taking up a knife and cutting another in half, adding one half with his three, knowing sometimes three weren't enough, but four could be too much for him.

“Boys?” You called over your shoulder, cracking an egg onto the griddle, beside the two fresh pools of batter.

“Four, please.” Gus chimed, turning a page.

“Same.” Edmund replied, squinting at the small print of the article he was trying to read.

Humming to yourself, you finished cooking up the batter and made everyone an egg, before doling out plates. Everyone had just dug in, when a knock sounded on the door. You and Edmund tensed, eyeing each other, a silent conversation going between you.

“Don't be rude!” Mael huffed around a mouthful of food.

Sighing, you stood up and answered it, finding Dr. Tremblay on your doorstep, black bag in hand, a flood of relief washing over you.

“Oh! Good morning, Dr. Tremblay.” You greeted him, glancing behind you to Gus and Edmund.

“Good morning, mon chéri.” Tremblay smiled at you, kissing your cheek and glancing into the house and spotting Gus at the table, enjoying his breakfast. “I see my patient is feeling better.” He commented, lifting a bushy white brow.

“He is.” You nodded, stepping to the side. “Please, come in. Would you like some coffee or tea?” You asked, biting your lip nervously.

“Tea would be nice, oui.” Dr. Tremblay answered, setting his bag on the table.

Edmund looked at the respected senior and cocked a brow over his shoulder to his father, hoping to indicate not speaking of Gus's injury and real purpose in the house. Tremblay returned a squinty eyed glare, just as you set down his cup of tea, making you chuckle at the two of them.

“What's brought you over so early, Sacha?” Mael asked, forking a hotcake into his mouth, but his eyes were cast over the table.

“Oh,” Tremblay waved his hand dismissively, before reaching out for the sugar pot in the center of the table, dropping two granular, ivory cubes into his teacup. “I came to check up on Edmund.” He replied, looking at your brother with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Heard from Thom that he might need a new pair of glasses. So, I've come to take some measurements.” He said, patting his bag, still sitting on the table.

“You didn't mention anything about that, Ed.” Your father croaked, looking a bit alarmed.

“I didn't want to burden you with it, Pops.” Edmund answered, squeezing the handle of his fork. “No worries though. Doc has it under control.” He grunted, eyes shifting over to Gus.

Everyone finished their breakfast and Edmund showed Tremblay upstairs, under the guise of looking at his eyes in privacy, while Gus excused himself to the bathroom, following the two of them upstairs. You fret a little bit, picking up the dishes from the table and putting them in the sink, the feeling anxious of not knowing if Gus's wound was healing right or if he needed the antibiotics anymore. You wanted to go upstairs and join them. But knew if you did, your father would likely get more suspicious.

“Are we going to take our usual Sunday afternoon stroll around the garden today, Papa?” You asked, putting a plate on the drying rack.

“I'll see how I feel come time, Peanut.” Mael replied, leaning against the arm of his chair to catch every word the radio presenter was saying.

Nodding, you pulled out the mop bucket and carried it out to the garden, using the garden hose to fill it. Leaning against the wall beside the door, you looked up at the morning sky, steely with angry looking, iron-gray clouds drifting by overhead. You drew in a deep breath, filling your nostrils with the cool and salty scent of the sea, but it also had the faint snap of the ozone, the possible threat of chubby raindrops.

“Well, it looks like my nurse took excellent care of me.” Gus's voice chimed in your ear, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Your wound is all right?” You asked, casting your eyes up to his.

“Yes, ma'am.” He smiled, filling the doorway. “Healing nicely and should have the stitches out in no time.” He assured you, lifting his jumper a little to show you. “I also don't need any more shots! Which I am thankful for!” He chuckled, but looked at you quickly. “Not that you weren't good at administering them!”

“Oh no!” You giggled, cheeks warm with embarrassment and relief. “I'm just as glad as you are! I would have much preferred Dr. Tremblay make you take the antibiotic by mouth! The idea of sticking you, or anyone, with a needle is frightening. I'm surprised I didn't wound you further in the process.”

Gus smirked, glancing down at his boots. “I doubt you could have. I have thighs the size of tree trunks.” He remarked, biting his lip for a moment. “Your bucket!” He gasped, catching sight of the water spilling over the side.

“Oh shoot!” You snapped, twisting the nozzle off and letting out a sigh.

“I'm sorry, I distracted you.” Gus apologized, watching you tip the bucket slightly to let out the excess water.

“It's all right. I should have been paying attention.” You shrugged, grabbing the handle.

“Here, I'll carry it in for you.” He offered, replacing your hand with his at the handle.

You brushed a loose lock of hair behind your ear and watched him take it inside, before shaking your head, as if to snap yourself out of something, and followed him back inside. “You can put it right there.” You instructed him, going under the sink to grab the bottle of fairy liquid. “Are you going to help my brother?” You asked in a hushed voice, pouring some of the washing up solution in the water, while glancing over at your father, who had dozed off.

“I don't know.” Gus replied, a crease forming between his brows. “I'm not sure your brother is too fond of me.”

“Edmund is...” You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. “Edmund tends to be guarded. Many relationships in his life haven't panned out. With our mother leaving us and his wife—well, Willa has big dreams. She feels have been held back and blames him for that, by keeping them here in Saint-Thurney. So, sometimes, even when he does like someone, he gives them the cold shoulder.”

“He's waiting for the boot to drop.” He nodded, understanding.

“Exactly.” You hummed, grabbing the mop and dripping it into the soapy bucket. “Now, you need to skitter off my kitchen floor, so I can wash it.” You ordered, shooing him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Gus laughed, swiping his book off the kitchen table, gave you a grinning salute and made for the basement, casting one more look back at you, smirking as you started scrubbing the floor. “Do you want any help?” He asked, finding Edmund framing up the shelves against the cellar wall.

Edmund paused, a nail clamped between his lips, bracing his elbow against the board he was nailing, he took the one out of his mouth, answering. “Are you any good at building things?”

“I find my way around a saw, hammer and a nail.” Gus replied, looking around at Edmund's spread-out supplies. “Just tell me what you want done with them.”

“All right.” Edmund nodded, cocking a brow at him. “I need a few more boards cut. I already have them marked to length. You can do that for me.”

“Sure thing, Captain.” Gus replied, going into his makeshift room to set his book down. “What?” He asked the other man's look, lifting one of the pre-marked boards onto the sawhorses, finding the pencil measurements and grabbing the saw that rested against the leg beside him.

“Don't call me that.” Edmund growled, an angry glare in his eyes.

Gus held his gaze for a moment, a faint smirk on his lips. “My apologies.”

The two of them nodded at each other, then turned back to their work.

There was no afternoon walk to be had, the dark clouds from that morning broke open and saturated everything outside, shutting in the residents of Saint-Thurney. Your father continued to doze in his chair, unbothered by the weather pattering the roof like a percussion symphony. Gus and Edmund were still down in the basement, hard at work, coming up periodically for bathroom breaks and refreshments, and you sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and getting lost in the world of Oliver Twist.

You paused, bringing your teacup to your lips and cast your eyes to the window by the door, sure you had heard something outside, above the rain and carpentry. But saw nothing and shrugged, taking your sip and set the cup down, returning to your sentence. However, a few moments later, you swore you heard it again; putting you on edge.

“Edmund!” You called out, slowly setting your book down, the hairs at the back of your neck began to stand up. You gasped, seeing three men flash by the window. “Edmund!” You shouted, startling your father awake, his eyes wide with panicked alarm.

A thunder of furious pounding sounded on the front door accompanied Edmund and Gus's boots stomping up the basement stairs, frantic and confused. You had rushed over to your father, in an attempt to calm him before he slipped into an episode of shock.

“It's the Patrol!” You cried, rubbing your father's back, eyes trained on the vibrating door, a stream of German demands now being shouted with their banging, mixed with accented French and English.

“Damn my eyes.” Edmund growled, gritting his teeth. “They must be doing random searches, thinking they can catch everyone inside with the weather.” He huffed, wiping at his sweaty brow and glancing at Gus, who seemed startling calm, but tense.

“We have to let them in!” You urged your brother, not liking how angry the Patrol sounded and knowing the longer you waited, the worse it would be.

“I know!” Edmund barked sharply, the gears in his brain spinning for a split second longer, before he took a long step forward and yanked the door open. “What's the meaning of this!? Are you trying to wake the dead?” He demanded, looking the three German Patrol officers over, the Sturmführer was red faced, and all of them were dripping from being forced to wait so long in the rain, for an answer.

“Inspections!” He snapped in Edmund's face, a small bit of spit hanging from his bottom lip.

“Yes, fine!” Edmund replied, rolling his eyes and shoving the door open.

No one moved as the three officers entered the cozy cottage. Your hand shook as it rested on your father's shoulder, periodically massaging it when you felt him tremble, still on the edge of a possible attack from his Shell Shock. Edmund eyed them from his place by the door, sweaty hands clenched into fists as he watched them conduct their inspections. More like a path of intrusive destruction. They yanked books off shelves, opened cabinets and tossed out their contents, pushed over furniture for amusement.

Even nicked things, when they thought the owners weren't looking.

Mael leaned forward slightly, mumbling to himself, causing you to frown. You tried to kneel down to bring your ear close to his mouth and listen to what he was saying, worried for him, but were stopped by one of the officers. He grabbed you roughly by the arm and yanked you up, barking something at you in German that you didn't understand.

“Please, he's not well!” You protested, tugging against him, desperate to care for your father before he slipped too far.

“Nein, bleib, Hexe!” He barked at you, making you cry out, his grasp tightening.

Before Edmund could blink, Gus was halfway across the kitchen, trained on the German holding you, like a bull seeing red. Snarling, with nostrils flaring, Gus twisted his fist in the officer's uniform and yanked them together. Forcing the other man up onto the tip-toes of his black polished boots in the process.

“Let her go!” He barked, giving him a good shake, for effect.

Startled, he let go, you tumbled to the floor at their feet, and rubbed at the burning handprint that was left behind. The air in the cottage thickened dramatically. One of the officer's comrades came rushing in from the garden, hearing the commotion, and fumbled for his sidearm. While their leader came flying downstairs.

“What is this!” The commanding officer demanded, glaring at Gus as he continued to hold his subordinate. “Put my officer down! At once!” He ordered, when Gus didn't move, showing no fear or reluctance towards the three of them, unlike you, Edmund or your father. “Who is this man?” He barked, looking between your brother and father.

“Answer me, at once!” He screamed, face turning red again. “Or I'll have him shot!”

“No!” You cried out, frightened. “Gus, let him go!” You begged him, pulling on his pant leg, desperately. “I'm fine, please!”

“Answer!” The officer growled at the lot of you, his limited patience wearing thin. “Oswin!” He hissed at his officer, who was now pointing his Walther p38 at Gus. “Shoot him!” He ordered, with a hard jerk of his head.

“He's my sister's fiancé!” Edmund blurted out, as Oswin pulled the pistol's slide back, his eyes wild in the heat of the moment, before collecting himself and saying more calmly. “He's just my sister's fiancé.” He gulped, meeting your eye as you looked up at him, stunned, and caught off guard by the omission.

“What man wouldn't protect his betrothed?” He asked the Storm Leader, moving his eyes to Gus.

“A lesser man.” Gus replied, taking the cue, then looked at the commanding officer. “And I'm not a lesser man, to have your filthy runt put his hands on my girl.” He growled, shoving the man away.

“Why have we not seen you before?” He demanded, looking Gus over.

“He was serving, but just returned home, after being wounded.” You explained to him, looking up at Gus. It was the easiest bit of information to give, for them to believe, Gus could show them his wound.

“Is that so?” The officer asked, cocking a brow.

“It is.” Gus answered, pulling up his jumper to show them his bullet wound. “I was wounded in Belgium and discharged. So, I came here to be with her and recover.”

“Can anyone other than those here confirm your story?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the lot of you.

“Yes.” Edmund chimed in, feeling like the situation was on decent grounds. “Dr. Sacha Tremblay. He's been doctoring his wound since he's been back.”

“I will be checking and informing the Director General.” The Storm Leader warned the three of you, and the look in his eyes hinted at his misgiving, waiting for one of you to crack.

“Very well.” Edmund answered, his tone bland, shrugging one shoulder.

The senior officer stared the three of you down for a second longer, before looking to his men, inquiring in German if they had found anything. But the two replied in the negative. There was no contraband or anything that could get any of you in trouble as collaborators to the French Resistance or Allied Powers. Despite Gus standing right there in front of them, plain as day.

Whether they knew that or thought they had enough evidence to take you in, was another story entirely.

[mysticalprincesskitten]

Aegon II Targaryen x OC // House of the Dragon fanfic

Yandere!Aegon, Dark!Aegon

Trigger warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mdni, dark themes, bondage, kidnapping, yandere?? Targcest, OC is Viserys and Aemma's daughter, OC is named Daenerys, OC looks like Elizabeth Olsen

Part Three

The crown had changed Aegon.

No longer was he merely a youth craving his mother’s kindness, his father's attention, forever in the shadow of who he was supposed to be. Now he was King of the Seven Kingdoms, at war with his half-sister for the throne on which he sat.

Fate had forced this on him, but Aegon had embraced it. For the sake of his family, for Mother and Aemond and Helaena and their little twins, Rhaenyra could not ascend the Iron Throne. She would kill them all.

Besides. Aegon was the rightful king. Father had agreed as much finally on his deathbed; as the firstborn son, Viserys’ crown passed to Aegon. The Great Council had reinforced tradition by seating his father on the throne instead of Rhaenys, but Father, in his arrogance, opposed tradition by naming his favourite child heir. Mother said so.

If only his wife could see the truth.

Daenerys was a hellcat. A she-dragon. Since Aemond had ambushed her at Storm’s End, forcing her to dismount Grey Ghost and return to King’s Landing lest Vhagar rip her beloved dragon to shreds, Daenerys had refused to touch Aegon, to speak a kind word to him. It made him whine and whimper, a kicked dog. Daenerys loved him. She always had. She was the only one who knew him, who didn’t expect him to be something he wasn’t.

And now she wouldn’t be close to him unless he bound her to their bed.

His grandfather was a fool, but he was right about one thing — the king needed an heir. Daenerys and Aegon had been wed for a couple of years and they had yet to conceive. It had never bothered Aegon before — one less person to steal her attention from him, truth be told — but that was when he'd been Prince Aegon.

King Aegon needed a trueborn heir from his queen.

And Aegon had missed her so, so much.

“How dare you?” His she-dragon thrashed anew in her bonds. “I am not your broodmare, Usurper!”

Aegon flinched. Then the fire within his own blood met to meet hers.

“How dare I? How dare you, sweet sister. My beloved bride. We are married, whether you like it not. You are mine. Do you think I could bear for you to leave me again? I let you slip from me once and they forced a crown on my head.” His lip wobbled, even as he held her wrists tight enough to bruise. He wanted his marks on her. His his his.

She was all he had, his only good thing. Daenerys had been by his side all his life, a playmate and partner. Sometimes she insisted they include Helaena and Aemond in their play, and Jace and Luke, but most of the time, if he pouted just so, he could get her to play just the two of them, chasing each other through the Red Keep, bumping into servants and high lords alike, playing monsters and maidens and come-into-my-castle.

And when childhood faded to adulthood, his sister’s soft curves and smooth skin made him stiffen in his breeches at the worst possible moments. He found himself transfixed by the dimple of her cleavage, a faint line peeking from the silver and cream gown she wore.

His Nerys refused to wear green, but rarely donned their House colours — Rhaenyra’s colours — either. Her heraldry honoured her dragon instead, the wild Grey Ghost. She liked silver Myrish lace and ivory Lyseni silks the most, beaded with opals and moonstone. Aegon liked how her gowns looked scattered across the floor of their bedchamber.

“It’s not too late,” she breathed, violet eyes wide and watery. “We could leave, Aeg. We could leave King’s Landing. Leave the Seven Kingdoms. Fly to the Free Cities with me. We could explore new lands, taste new cuisine, where nobody from this dreary kingdom would ever find us. We could see the Dothraki Sea, the old lands of Valyria's empire. Please, Aeg. Please.”

He could see her vision clearly: clouds covering exotic lands, blades of emerald grass below. Both of them, together. How they had always been. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted before his mother marched him to his coronation?

But another path lay open to him now. What if they didn’t have to flee? The crown was heavy, but Aegon found his liked it’s weight.

He was King. Nerys was his queen. She would give him trueborn princes and princesses that would fill the Red Keep, enough to lay his claim so deep inside her she could never claw it out.

A frenzy overtook him. He crashed their lips together, and she kissed him back, Seven Hells she was finally kissing him back, finally, she loved him again, she did she did…

His tongue tasted the sweetness of her mouth, overwhelmed with the need to possess. “I love you,” he gasped, “I love you so much, Nerys…”

“Untie me.”

He stilled. Stroked silver curls from her forehead, gazing at her with pain in his chest.

“No.”

Her face grew cold. “You won’t leave. Not now. You’ve supped from the king’s cup and now you mean to gorge yourself, like you always do.”

“Enough,” he snapped. “Stop spoiling everything.” His lips returned to her throat.

“Aegon, no! Stop!”

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Grandfather had spoke sense that morning during the Small Council meeting. Without an heir, Aegon’s grasp on the throne was tentative. Rhaenyra had six sons to succeed her. Should anything happen to Aegon before he sired a son, the throne would pass to Aemond.

Aegon often wondered whether his brother would be happy if he died. Aemond lusted for kingship, for Helaena and a dragon to call his own. He had two of those things already.

“Get off me!”

“Hush.” His right hand clenched her throat, the other trailing beneath her nightgown where her legs were bound together, seeking the wetness between her thighs.

“Aegon…” Nerys moaned.

“I know how to touch you, Nerys. Your body might as well be my own.”

She started to curse him but another moan strangled her words. “You disgust me.”

Don’t say that. “Do I? This tells a different story.” His fingers thrust into her.

She cried out.

“That’s it, darling. Let me take care of you."

[0kayblue]

Blood Trail

Blood Trail

Your most recent mission was to rescue the President's daughter, it was supposed to be a simple rescue mission in and out. Things go from bad to worse quickly once you seek shelter in a barn.

 [PART II] 

Main Character Relations: Leon Kennedy x Reader 

Word Count: 5k (a little over) 

Angst, mentions of violence, knives, hand to hand combat, guns, needles, pills, blood, and previous NSFW affairs

A/N: HELLO ALL!! If you can’t tell by the terrible summary this is set in the re4 setting. I’m biased. I’ll probably be going on a break after this, but enjoy!!! I send my love and hope you are all doing alright. 

Search and rescue, that was the name of the game and you were damn good at it. Even if you were flipped around and upside down, you knew how to find things. It was a skill that most in your field wished they had and spent hours trying to learn. Committing to memory how to identify what tracks belong to either what animal or vehicle. Trying to teach themselves what to look for and when to look for it. 

You shined when it came to tracking people. You could quite possibly find yourself over the moon when you spotted boot prints. You could tell a lot about someone based on their footprints. How someone moves is a very telling thing; how far apart each footprint is, the density of each step conveying the urgency in their stride. They told stories and it was up to the observer to translate them in the best way they knew how. 

It took an understanding of people and a bit of a sixth sense. It’s where rookies and professionals alike messed up, but not you. You weren’t always one hundred percent correct, but you always ended up in the right direction. It gained you respect, rank, and a reputation. 

So, as you sat in the back of a police cruiser studying the way the two police officers interacted with one another you put together a mental file on each of them. They seemed quite laid back and easy going individuals that didn’t take much of anything seriously. Joking and laughing- you had no clue what about- like they weren’t on clock. It was a nice change and caused you to smile lightly; it was nice to bask in a partnership that wasn’t so grounded in solemeness. 

You glanced at Leon who rested against the window, staring rather dramatically out of it lost in thought. You rolled your eyes before nudging him gently, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mumbled audibly enough to not draw attention from the officers in front. 

Leon scoffed at the nickname that you gave him the moment you met him months ago. He had a love-hate relationship with it because he knew it was supposed to knock him down a peg; but it fell from your lips in such a flirtatious way that it sparked a warmth in his stomach. Adjusting subtlety, his eyes locked with yours, “What, Princess?” 

Of course he didn’t let ‘pretty boy’ slide and upon seeing how the staff treated you like royalty- and how you had a number of them eating out of your hand- he bestowed you the title of ‘Princess’. There really wasn’t a thing you could do about it and you were more than willing to accept your karma if it hadn’t bit you so hard in the ass in the bedroom. The way it made you squirm under him only stroked his ego. 

It was only predictably natural for two flirtatious agents to find themselves tangled up in the sack once or twice. Although in the particular case of you two it was becoming a more common thing. The palpable energy between the two of you could start a fire. It was fun and loose with no serious title, the way close relationships between agents were recommended to be. 

“You think we could switch roles with these two? I’ll be the funny one.” 

“You can’t be the funny one, I’m the funny one.” His tone dry with a little smirk to match. 

“Damn, really? You could have fooled me.” Little giggles creeping from your throat as you said it, causing him to chuckle. 

“Why am I always the one who draws the short end of the stick?” One of the officers cuts through the moment with laughter, speaking in English for one of the first times since picking both you and Leon up. 

Your eyes left the ocean of blue as your attention turned back to the officers in front of you, fully focused now that they were ready to talk. His eyes stayed on you though, a flower that he’s been neglecting sunlight continuing to bloom.

———————————————————

This was not how this was supposed to go, it was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be an in and out type of job; find the target, save the target, and get the hell out of dodge. 

Breathing in as much air as your body allowed your hands found your knees and trailed down your legs, trying to keep them from shaking. You stood turning to Ashley as you did so, “Are you okay?” You asked concerned, approaching her cautiously as a hand found her shoulder. Your hand pressed against her shoulder with a light firmness as you rubbed her shoulder and then her shoulder blade. 

Ashley Graham, the President’s daughter, the target; a sweet young woman whose adult life was starting off more than just rough and bumpy despite the cushy life she has had. 

Her typically chipper and welcoming persona was gone and all that remained was a scared little girl who just wanted to go home. 

Ashley shook slightly as she tried to catch her breath, wanting to lie, but she couldn’t as she shook her head. You just nodded and continued to rub in between her shoulders and give her time. 

She’s been here longer than you have, she’s seen more than you have; and you only hoped that it hadn’t ruined her outlook on life forever. 

“Take a minute. We should be safe where we are, for now at least.” Leon said as he boarded up a makeshift door in the average sized barn you tried to take cover in. 

“You wanna take a seat, dear?” You asked her as you guided her to a sturdy enough looking chair that sat tucked under an even less sturdy looking table. You smoothly guided her to the seat as your hand left her shoulder, “Is there anything I can do to make this easier?” Your eyes locked with hers to convey your genuine concern for her well being. 

Ashley was a victim. She was someone who didn’t deserve this and it wasn’t fair, but unfortunately it was the cards she had been dealt. Regardless of the paycheck you cared for every victim that you tried to save and Ashley was no different. Trying to make her as comfortable as possible was your primary goal. 

As you reached for the aid kit that was firmly strapped to your thigh, you could hear a drained sigh escaping Leon’s lips over the crisp sound of velcro separating. He was your next concern, but you had to focus. Opening the neatly organized pack that had an assortment of different first aid items like ointment, pills, and bandages on one side and on the other side had syringes filled with morphine and sedatives. 

Ashley’s face turned up at the needles, but you just smiled, “Those aren’t for you, unless you are under some severe pain. You aren’t, are you?” You asked, your tone smooth and gentle. 

“No.” She shook her head, “I just have a headache.” 

You pulled out the little bottle labeled tylenol and got her two of the little red tablets, “Can you take pills without water? What about scratches and cuts, anything we need to bandage up?”

“I don’t like to, but I can.” She affirmed as you handed her the pills, you sent her a warm smile. 

“I don’t either.” You admitted, watching her struggle to take the pills. “That should help, if you need more don’t hesitate to ask, okay?” 

She nodded and you put a hand back on her shoulder, “Take a breather, collect yourself, we will step forward when you feel strong enough to continue.” Ashley sniffed, trying to hold back a flood gate of tears you crouched down to force her eyes to connect with yours, “I know this is hard, but I need you to know that you are going to be okay. Leon and I are going to get you out of here, okay? I promise.” Ashley shut her eyes tight as she took in a deep shaky breath. 

She felt guilty at the feet of your unconditional kindness. She felt as if she had doomed you for failure. How could you promise a happy ending without even knowing half of the story? Something was inside her, something beyond her control; a plague coursed through her body that could turn her into something that sent ice through her veins. Made her so unsure of who she ever was. 

“Ashley.” You called for her, causing her to open her eyes. “It’s okay to cry.” She turned away and slowly she started to feel it; she started to cry. “Can I hug you?” 

“No!” She choked out as she flinched away, “N-no…can I have a moment? Please?” She begged as your brows furrowed together in concern. 

It wasn’t unusual for victims to want to be left alone to cry; to hide. But this felt different. Ashley wasn’t one to hide away from people, she was one to ask for help. To seek comfort in those she trusted. Either she didn’t trust you or something bigger was at play. She trusted you; that much you knew or she wouldn’t have taken the pills from you. She may be a little on the naive side, but she most certainly wasn’t stupid. 

You nodded even though your stomach turned, “Okay, I’m going to go check on Leon. I’ll be right over there and-.” 

“I know! Okay, I know.” Ashley snapped at you, causing you to raise an eyebrow. This put you on guard, but you turned your back and went to Leon. Something was wrong and you were counting on your counterpart to fill you in on the details. 

Approaching Leon you studied his features and how he carried himself. It was off and it was odd, usually Leon was well kept regardless of the hell he was going through; but he seemed disheveled. His posture was slacked, but still stressed and he was pale. The bags under his eyes visible from a mile away and a dark shade of purple accompanied them. You leaned against the wall next to him and you could barely pick up on a trace of him regardless of the fact that you were standing right next to him. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked with a playful smirk, being who you always were with him. You’re own way of telling him it was okay. 

“I lost you.” His voice came out like gravel, low and gruff. You barely heard the sentiment, but it was there. If you weren’t working you would’ve pondered on it, even blushed, but you were on the clock. You had learned your lesson the hard way about relationships on the clock. 

“I found you, though.” You tried to send the same amount of sentiment back regardless of the cool composure you maintained, “It’s what I do. I told you, I’d be okay and I was.” 

He wasn’t pleased with your answer. Leon knew you could hold your own, he knew that you would find him; but that still didn’t settle his stomach. This time had to be different.

“Look how far you got without me, though. You got Ashley and we met up, so I’d say we are back on the right track. Although,” you paused and lowered your voice, “Something is off.” Your gaze found Ashley. 

“That gut of yours.” He remarks with a smile. A sight to behold that causes you to relax slightly. “Whatever the hell is going on here goes deeper than we think.” He swallows harshly as he tries to fight a cough from escaping from his chest. A thick substance that he carelessly writes off as mucus lodges itself in his throat. 

“So it appears. I’m worried about Ashley. I don’t know the girl personally, but from what I’ve seen and read, the girl I’m helping isn’t the girl I studied.” 

“Saddler-.”

“Who?” You cut him off, the name rings a bell as some of the people you killed out of defense mumbled it as they fell to become one with the earth below them. 

“Creepy guy, he’s got portraits everywhere.” You nodded and he continued, “Ran into him when I got Ashley out of the church. He said he injected her with a gift. The same gift those brain dead puppets have out there.” He explained, conveniently leaving out the part that he was also given the same gift. That the same plague was bestowed upon him and that slowly he was turning into the things you killed with sympathy. 

He didn’t want you losing focus. 

“Interesting, that changes the game.” You started second guessing your choice in giving Ashley the Tylenol. “A cure?” 

“Not that I know of. I crossed paths with an ex-cop turned lab technician, or whatever, if anyone knows it’s probably him.” Leon said, trying to choke back another cough. 

“Did this mystery guy have a name?” You tread lightly with concern while Leon turned and coughed. 

“Luis Sera.” He managed to get out through the violent coughs that shook through his chest. Your hand found his back and you hit him lightly, encouraging him to cough up whatever was causing him trouble up. He could practically feel your questions with each gentle but firm hit. 

“You okay?” He shook his head as he turned away, covering his mouth with the fingerless gloves. The leather scent of them makes it harder to get a gasp of fresh air. 

Worry started to course through your bloodstream as you started to rub his back as soothingly as you could. “Leon-.” You were cut off as his coughing ceased just as quickly as it appeared. 

As he stood upright and pulled his hand away noting the faint color of red before wiping his hand on his pants. Playing it off by reaching for his gun, hoping to all things holy you didn’t see. 

You didn’t, your eyes stayed trained on his face. Looking for any sign that could slightly convince you it was just a fluke; maybe he was allergic to something in the barn that caused him to have a coughing fit. 

Whatever it was, it was enough to send you into a course of action, “We’ve gotta find Sera.” 

Leon just gave you a nod of approval while you turned to Ashley. He watched you tread lightly with a sense of urgency, that damn gut of yours. He closed his eyes tight as he began to feel dizzy. The walls of the barn started to close in while he just stood there trying to compose himself. Eyes still closed, his heart beat racing, his veins starting to show black under his skin. His head pounding, the room spinning, an unfriendly heat surging from his chest, to his feet, to his hands. His eyes opened, but he was  unable to see a thing; blinded by a deep red that faded to black. The only thing he could make out was a threat. 

“Ashley.” You called lightly trying to keep your concern below the surface, “I hate to break what you’re going through up, but we’ve got to move.” Ashley sniffed, before turning to you. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she looked better. Almost how you would expect her to look after crying if this had never happened to her, if an irreversible trauma hadn’t tainted her. 

“Okay, it’s okay. I’m ready.” She said with convection as she stood to meet you. Her blood ran cold when she saw a gun pointed at you with intent to kill. “Stop! Leon!” She shouted in desperation, signaling for you to duck. 

It was in the nick of time as you ducked, the sound of a bullet ringing through your ears; just barely missing the side of your head. You turned and stood upright quickly as you glared Leon down, “What the fuck was that-!” You damn near screamed at him before assessing the situation. You weren’t looking at the Leon you knew, you were looking at someone you had never seen before. “Ashley, hide.” You demanded, trying to keep your voice from wavering. 

Leon went to shoot again, but in a twist of luck  the gun harshly clicked. He was out of bullets and you needed to take advantage of the moment. Charging towards him you sent a harsh kick to his wrist while he reached for ammo with the other. The successful kick knocked the gun out of his hand, but he countered by grabbing your ankle. He yanked you by your leg closer to him, pulling you from the place you tried to plant yourself. 

You managed to break out of his tight grasp by swinging a punch towards his jaw. You stood on both feet while he turned with a pained hiss. When his gaze met yours a guttural growl escaped through gritted teeth. His chest puffed out, his jaw clenched, and his eyes clouded over. He was ready to fight. 

The sight struck the fear of God in you. It made you hesitate, it made you vulnerable; and he took advantage of it. He punched you damn near square in the face, holding nothing back. The force sent you stumbling backwards and seeing white. You kept yourself from falling by focusing on the white noise that rang through your ears. You couldn’t make that mistake again. 

You coughed trying to get some air as you saw him go for another hit. You blocked it and made a swipe for his legs. Trying to buy yourself time so you could figure out a way to de-escalate the situation. You were no match for Leon as far as hand to hand combat was concerned. You fought from a distance, you shot from a distance; foresight was your way of survival. 

As he fell to his knees you tried to put him into a chokehold, but the moment he found his footing you were off the ground. He flung you forcefully over his shoulders and onto solid ground. Your head pounded as you saw stars and swore that your skeleton was permanently imprinted into the ground. Your lungs struggled for air as he firmly pressed his forearm to your throat, straddling your hips. 

You squirm underneath him, kicking and thrashing, desperately searching for a way out. He grabbed his knife from its sheath on his chest. Tears beaded on your lower lashes as you used every ounce of strength in your body to push his solid forearm from your throat. 

His eye contact never faltered as he lifted his knife into the air; ready to take the final step and end this. 

“No! Don’t hurt her!” Ashley shouted causing him to falter. His grip on you loosening enough for you to move your head up enough to clamp your teeth into his flesh while you harshly thrusted upward to allow you some space to get away from him. You quickly tried to scurry away from him, but his attention quickly returned to you. He reaches for your leg and barely misses. You slip through his fingertips and the only thought on your mind is distance. You need to see this situation from a different perspective, it was your only chance. 

Quickly getting to your feet you finally reach for your gun. Despite the way your body shakes you hold the gun firmly, “Don’t make me do this, I don’t want to do this.” You plead, nearly falling to your knees, “Please.”

Leon just grunted as he stood upright, he was hesitant as he stared at you. You didn’t make a single movement thinking that he may have been blinded. Your voice reaches him, causing him to see glances of you between the vision of a monster. He was fighting a monster, he only saw a monster. It was trying to take Ashley, it was trying to take you. It was real, wasn’t it?

“Leon? Can you hear me? Can you see me?” You call out in a whimper you can’t hide. Lowering the gun you took a cautious step forward and then another seeing as he didn’t move. Ashley held her breath looking for anything to help her defend herself if this went south. 

“H-He’s got the virus…h-he can’t see a thing…” Her voice low as she slowly began to talk with a stutter full of fear, “I-I know, because I-I have it too…”

You couldn’t help but to wince, this whole thing was sideways in the worst way. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You could feel your heartbeat in your head as you whispered, “I know, I know.” 

Leon stumbled backwards in confusion as time and his senses meld together as he threw a punch at nothing.

 He sees a large heavy set man, his head replaced with a red wet pulsating organ; long sharp appendages sprouting from his spine and wriggling with malintent. The man goes to attack, but Leon dodges slicing a appendage off with his knife in the process. 

Watching him fight nothing made your heart break. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know how to help. He was suffering and all you could do was watch. It made you sick and you had to change that. You had to help him. 

“You’ve had these outbursts? How long do they last?”

“They feel like hours…” She admitted, truthfully she had no idea. It was like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“Okay,” you start trying not to lose your temper, “how do you get out of them?”

“I-I don’t know…I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay, you’re okay. We’ll figure this out.” Your brain moves a hundred miles a minute as you try to connect the dots. You examine the room looking for an exit, running seeming like the only option. The only out was blocked though and boarded up by Leon only minutes before. 

Another way, there had to be another way. 

Your eyes find the table and your pack on the table. A lightbulb went off as you moved towards it slowly; careful to not alert Leon and keep him in the battle he was currently fighting. Quietly and carefully you pulled out a syringe filled with Amobarbital, a sedative that would send him to the ground. 

You tried not to shake as you started to explain your thought process to Ashley, “I’m going to corner and sedate him. If something goes wrong you need to hide until he comes to, okay? Careful though, don’t make any sudden movements, just stay as still as you can. If he leaves, do not follow.” 

Ashley nodded, finding a disregarded dumpster. She slowly moved towards it and climbed into it.

Her movements were gentle enough to not cause too much of a ruckus as you approached Leon from behind. As she reached for the lid, her palms sweaty and her hands shaking, she tried to pull it down. Crouching in the dumpster she almost made it until she slipped, letting go of the lid. A loud bang caused Leon to stop what he was doing and turned in the direction of the dumpster. Quick and powerful strides being made in her direction were quickly stopped when you started talking. Your tone is firm and demands attention. 

“Flesh and bone. That’s all you are, flesh and bone.” 

Leon turned sharply in your direction, cloudy eyes with the intent to kill. He charged at you with his knife pointing directly at your face. You dodged and he stumbled, but was quick to recover. 

“You remember that? That depressing conversation we had the night before we got here?” He went to throw a punch but you roughly kicked him in the chest sending him backwards. 

“What about the time you were so scared that you hurt me in training and you spent the rest of the night searching for my pulse?” You grunted planting your feet and punched him. You were pissed because this man was not the man that you had grown lovingly accustomed to. The man you had started to fall for. 

All Leon saw was a woman with a bloody knife who spewed memories from her throat. How could she have known that? There is no way she could have known that, but he fought regardless. With a broad stroke he knocked the side of her face with his own blade. 

You wouldn’t have noticed he hit you, if it wasn’t for the sting of your own blood rolling down your cheek. 

You successfully knocked the knife out of his hand as your other hand threw another punch to his jaw. You let out a small breath of shock before going to jab the syringe into his neck, but he caught your hand. He roughly pushed you backwards and against the wall. Your spine suffers as you let out a harsh wince of pain. 

“Fuck, Leon!” You try not to wail as his hand lets go of your fist and goes for your throat. Your free hand finds his wrist as his grip tightens. 

“How do you know that?” He barked the question with such intensity that it caused you to cower against him. “Where is she? What did you do?” 

“L-Leon…” You dryly strangle out, “Me. Look at me…” 

That woman’s voice turned to yours and slowly her features started to become yours. His grip around your throat loosening, starting to become unsure of what was reality. 

“Please…” you begged as you started learning to breathe again, “I know- I know it’s hazy.” You regained your grip on the syringe while the hand still attached to his wrist pushed forward. Your fingers find his index and middle finger and you pull them to your pulse, pressing firmly down so he could find it. So he could feel the pleading beats, identify the blood that coursed through your veins. 

You were pure and untampered and he started to see clearly. Glassy doe eyes peering into his eyes while his calloused fingertips felt the smoothness of your flesh. Your breath hitching in your throat as you saw particles of him returning. 

“(Y-Y/N)?” He stutters out, like a whimper still unsure, but questioning. You nodded and for a moment you thought you saw a light at the end of the tunnel. You were ready to fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness. 

But you always paid the price. The sound of wood breaking as a body slammed through the boarded up doorway. A tall, dark, greasy man stumbling through trying to catch his breath caused Leon’s grip on you to tighten. 

The oxygen leaves you quicker than it took you to breathe in. 

“Am I interrupting?” The man asked, causing Leon to lose his focus and you took advantage of the moment to stab the syringe harshly into his throat. Your thumb harshly pushing down on the plunger as you injected the sedative into his bloodstream. He let go of you, causing you to fall to your knees as harsh coughs rake through your chest. 

Leon sways slightly as he pulls the empty syringe from his neck. He blinks, the barn becoming clear to him now. Falling to his knees he looks at you, the utter terror on your face makes his blood run cold. Your wide eyes,  blood trailing from your cheek and down your neck, and the way your body trembles is the last thing he sees before he goes unconscious.

It takes a minute, but you crawl over to him and pull him into your lap. You find his pulse and he seems stable as you let out a shaky breath that you’ve been holding. You curl around him, tears pouring down your face as you try to keep yourself under control. The nightmare was over and you have never felt as sick as you did now. 

“Miss?” The man calls for you and you fist Leon’s shirt holding his body to yours before glaring daggers at the man.  

“Luis Sera?” You ask him, your voice low as it wryly escapes from dry lips. He saw all he needed to see to know that you were with Leon. 

“Sí.” He confirmed. 

“I need a cure.” 

———————————————————

Leon bumped shoulders with some agents, but he couldn’t care less as he ran down the hall and down the stairs. He was on his own mission and if he took a single moment you could be gone. His heart raced as he took the stairs to the final level of the building and out the side door. His eyes scan the dimly lit parking lot for your frame and he finds it against your car. He sees you reach for the door handle and he calls for you, “Hey!”

You are startled slightly, but you turn to look at him. You send him a warm smile and a little wave as he jogs to your side. Normally he’d send you warm regards back, but he was upset. 

“Slow your roll there, pretty boy. You’ve seen the way these people drive through this parking lot. Without a care in the world, granted I’m not one to talk.” You joke, your tone is light and airy. Your relaxed posture is a clear juxtaposition of his own.

“You’re transferring?” Your brows knitted together as your once small smile turned to a frown. 

“They told you, huh?” 

“They did.” His heart broke, having no choice but to believe it now that you confirmed it. 

“I was going to tell you over drinks this weekend.” You defend yourself with a shrug. 

“They also told me that you left out the barn incident in your debriefing.” An uncomfortable silence fell over the both of you as he looked at your bandaged cheek. He shut his eyes in pain, having trouble coming to terms with the fact that he could’ve killed someone he cared so deeply for. It was only a moment of relief though until the image of you so frightened of him appeared behind his eyelids. You were so scared, you were so scared of him. He shook it off with a deep breath as he opened his eyes, “If you’re leaving because of that, because of what I did, I swear to you that I will never work with you on a mission again.” 

Your eyes softened and you wanted to reach for him, but couldn’t. “Lee, no, that has nothing to do with the transfer. I trust you with my life.” 

It took everything in him to not wince at your words. How could you say that? How could you possibly mean that? After everything, you still genuinely trusted him. 

“Then why-?” 

“Because I felt like it was something they didn’t need to know the details of, so I wrote it off. Got in trouble for it, but they connected the dots from yours and Ashley’s reports. It’s all they needed.” 

“I…” He started, he had so much he wanted to say. He didn’t know where to start, he didn’t know how to handle this. “I don’t understand.” You just smile at him. His heart melted, but couldn’t bring himself to return your smile. 

“I don’t either.” You reassure him, “They’ve got a couple loose ends to tie up and they want me to finish the job, so I took the position. It’s only supposed to be temporary or did you even let them get that far before running out here?” 

He didn’t, he just left. Which he shouldn’t have, but hindsight was something he was still working on. A short laugh escaped him before admitting it to you, “No.”

You giggled as your hand went to cover your growing smile. You both soaked up this sense of normalcy for a minute, basking in the glow of each other. 

“You are something else, Kennedy.” 

“In a good or bad way?” His tone was flirtatious as he relaxed slightly. 

“A bit of both, just how I like it.” You gaze at him through half lidded eyes. He wanted to touch you, he wanted to pull you to his chest and kiss you so deeply that he would still linger on your lips as you drove home. 

He didn’t, as a fear of your rejection crept up his neck. He hasn’t laid a finger on you since you both had gotten back, not wanting to trigger your fight or flight reflexes. It was a miracle that you didn’t start running the opposite direction when you saw him. He’d let you come to him, he refused to force himself upon you. No matter how badly he needed to feel you. 

“When do you leave?” 

“Next week.” It hurt to finally confront, “Why? You want to throw me a going away party in the break room?” You joked, trying to cover up the pain in your voice. 

“Absolutely.” He said with a smile and you just rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll pass, but if you want to go out for drinks?” You ask, raising a brow. 

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.” He chuckled, his brain beginning to stumble over the word temporary. “How long is temporary, by the way?” 

“Hey, we have to have something to discuss over drinks.” You didn’t want to break it to him now that temporary meant almost two years. Your lips form a tight smile that didn’t fool him, but he understood. 

“Right.” An awkwardness starts to clog his throat, “You also didn’t mention Ada in your reports either.” 

You sighed, refusing to look at him as your stomach turned into an empty pit, “I’m afraid that’s another topic I’ll have to save until I have some alcohol in my system.” His brows knitted together and he sighed. Every conversation starter leads him to a dead end. Every excuse to spend more time with you coming up short. 

“I understand.” He didn’t, but he was willing to be patient. He owed you more than just his patience. 

“Listen, I’ve gotta get going. I’m meeting an old friend for dinner and breaking the transfer news to them as well. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You go to open your car door and he just watches you run from him. Unable to move or speak as he prepares himself to wallow in the depression of your absence. 

“Tomorrow, Princess.” Your heart flutters at the nickname as you crack a smile. You get into the car and start the engine. You roll your window down and take a final look at him, your chest blossoming despite everything. 

“You still have stuff to do so don’t start something you can’t finish.” He smiles as you put the car in reverse and back out of your parking spot. “Goodnight, dear.” You shout from your window before rolling your window up and driving away from him. Leaving him in an empty parking lot while he waved you away. Leon let out a heavy sigh as his hands found their way into his pockets. 

His thoughts ran wild as he tried to think of a way to fix this.  

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD prompt: First and/or Second David in the roleswap AU where Maggie's on Team Leverage and Nate's oblivious and still with IYS?

 It’s a decent forgery, Maggie has to admit. Not good enough to fool her, but damn close. And even knowing how much she hates him, Blackpool won’t doubt her word.  Not over the Second David. She could hand him something from a high school ceramics class and it would take him a moment to realize, and the statute that Sophie and Hardison put together over the last weekend is far better than that. She’s so close. She can taste revenge in her smiling mouth, like the vodka Sophie took from her the night they met.  Ian will take the bait and look the fool.  It won’t bring back Sam. She got into this game too late for that. Her ex would have said this was justice, but it’s not, and she knows the difference. “Sophie,” she says into the coms. “Come on. I need you to close the deal.” “I’m a little busy,” Sophie’s  regular accent returnes, the Italian she’d worn for the evening melting away. “There’s someone here who, uh. Recognized me.” Well. Shit. Maggie knows who that has to be. There’s only one person here who’d see through Sophie’s guise, and it’s the same person who’s the only threat to the game she and the crew are running. Hell, he’d know all of them, if not by face by some other means. She’s fairly certain that Nate never actually caught up with Parker or Eliot, but Sophie and Hardison…. Maggie takes a sip of her drink, and thinks. Nate won’t be distracted for long, and while the Vatican angle isn’t strictly required for the con to work, Sophie being spotted on the same night the prodigal art examiner returns will draw suspicion they can’t afford. “I’ll let you think over my price,” she tells Ian, handing him her empty glass like he’s no better than the bussers, and slips into the minglers.   It’s a risk. She left. And Nate was never-- he loved her, she knew that. But he wasn’t all hers. He loved the hunt too much. Not enough that he’d stray, but she opened the barn door and bolted, the day she’d woken up in an empty apartment and a text on her phone saying he’d had to fly to Madrid on work. Their son was cold in the ground and he’d left because the man who’d put him there had asked. What if he didn’t look twice? What if he did and then away?

“Maggie?” he asks, his voice and hand snaking out to touch her, and as she’d hoped, turning away from Sophie. “Is that--you… you look…” he trails off.

“Nate,” she says, quietly. “You look… busy.” Has he always looked that tired?  Have his eyes always been that hard? Maybe she is simply looking at him the way Sophie’s taught her to evaluate a mark. The way she looks for falsehoods in a brushstroke. Everything about him rings sad, but trying.

“I am. Uh. There was a case with a stolen Manet last week. We could have-- I could have used you.”

“I’m sure you managed,” she says, glancing around the party. “Or you’d hardly be celebrating.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asks, hard. “No one’s heard from you since…”

Maggie files that away. She’d have thought James would have said something. That he hasn’t is worrying. “I don’t have time for this,” she says, brushing him off, the reverse of Eliot pulling in the would be movie star. Unapproachable is easy enough, when she doesn’t want attention. She’s not sure she doesn’t, is the only thing.

“Maggie, wait,” he says, grabbing her hand and looking at her, the way Ian looked at the photo of the statue. The way Parker stares at deadbolts in bank vaults. “What did I do wrong?”

“I think he’s forgotten Sophie,” Hardison says in her ear, helpful, helpful. “So you can scoot. Blackpool’s by the shrimp.”

Maggie fights her own feet. She can’t tell him the truth. He’s always been so black and white, right down to the canvas.  She can’t pour out the can of grey paint and thinner she’s carting around in her heart without destroying the man she used to love. She can’t pull away, either.

“It wasn’t you,” she says, though that’s never going to be the full truth. “Let me go, Nate. please.”

His hand drops as if she’d struck him. “Maggie…”

“I’m sorry, Nate,” she says. “Don’t look for me.”

She knows he will. She’ll just have to have a better lie, for the next time.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love Will Remember {One Shot}

Title: Love Will Remember {One-Shot}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Words: 13.5k

Warning: High Angst, Heartbreak, Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS, Mild NSFW References, Mentions of Pregnancy, FWB Gone Wrong, PLOT HEAVY, Time Jump

Summary: You and Lewis had an agreement, nothing but sex. It was an easy agreement to adhere to but somewhere along the line things changed as did your feelings. What now?

Note: Here we are again with over 7k words.🥴 This started one way and then took an interesting turn toward the middle. I hope you enjoy this. Also, I have nothing against Chelsea.🤣

Note II: I promise to do better by Tyrone Mings in a separate fic.🤞🏽 He needs his own fic.

As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~

"I knew this wasn’t a good idea even before I touched you. From the second I looked into your eyes I saw it," he dejectedly said.

"Saw what?"

"How innocent you were. So fucking innocent," he spat as if the words burned his tongue.

"We shouldn't have ever done this. I shouldn't have done this," he added.

Your heart sank which made your bottom lip tremble. What did you say to that? What could you say? The silence in the room stretched on and on. You wanted to say sorry but sorry didn't feel right. Who apologized for telling someone they loved them? Who apologized for such a pure and selfless emotion?

The longer the silence stretched with his back still to you, the more you felt pathetic and stupid. You regretted telling him. You weren't supposed to fall for him. It made no logical sense why you would in the beginning so simple fucking seemed like an easy deal.

Then you got to know him. He lowered his walls inch by inch, allowing you to see more and more of himself. You saw the loyal and loving son he was, the supportive and helpful sibling, the kind and gentle uncle, the intelligent and diligent businessman, and the sweet, passionate, and attentive lover. With all of that, it had practically happened without you knowing until it was too late.

Then the words slipped from you at probably one of the worst times when Lewis was balls deep inside you, giving you the "fall in love with me" long and deep strokes. He heard them the moment you said them, and it was evident because his entire body tensed. You'd came but you were almost sure he hadn't. Seconds later, he'd pulled out and looked at you with horror. 

"You said..."

"I know," you replied, not needing him to finish his sentence.

"Jesus," he pushed out just under his breath, but you heard it in the stark silent room.

"Look I’m sorry I couldn't control my feelings and remain cold and unfeeling like you."

Lewis spun around to face you so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.

"Don’t. Don’t do that. It’s unfair."

You knew it but didn’t care. You were frustrated now.

"I didn’t plan this. Hell, I sure as fuck didn’t expect it and I definitely didn’t mean to tell you. I just...I--."

You didn’t know what else to say and the moment your eyes met his you could read him clear as a book. He didn't feel the same. It wasn’t something shocking. You hadn't ever expected him to feel what you did. In the sea of women he’d been with, you were so different.

Whereas they were drop-dead gorgeous and bodacious with lines of men chasing them and perfectly beaten faces at all hours of the day and a wardrobe to rival the queens of the monarchs you’d never fit that bill. You were labeled a tomboy, considered to be one of the guys because of your interest in sports, not anti-makeup but definitely inexperienced compared to your other friends. Hell, you were inexperienced in a lot of things.

You never felt like you could hold men captivated. It wasn’t until Lewis had you seen a flicker of that. He was right. You were innocent. He was the 2nd man you’d slept with in your life and even he’d had to teach you several things about pleasure. It was embarrassing in the beginning, and you were sure after a few months he’d tire of you, but 3 months passed then 6 then 9, and before you knew it a year had ticked by, and he was still steadily seeing you. You were confused, but who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Lewis sighed again, a deep, heavy, woeful sigh and you knew what he was going to say.

"We can't...I can't--. "

Just as you were going to open your mouth to stop him, his phone rang. It was an interruption you were thankful for.  You didn’t think you could stomach the words.

"Hang on," Lewis said standing in his nakedness. He picked up the phone and you took a moment to look over his body.

It would be the last time you would see it. You didn’t think you were living some fairytale or a modern version of Pretty Woman, sans the sex worker trope. You knew not to expect happily ever afters. Those were things of fiction. This was the end of your time together. He was just about to say the words.

The tattoos that decorated his back held you mesmerized. You could still feel the muscles hidden under that beautiful golden bronzed flesh. The very muscles that spoke of how much power truly resided within him. Your fingertips remembered how they danced under them. It was etched to memory by now and you knew it would be hell to forget it.

When Lewis walked to the bathroom, you snapped back to the here and now. You sat there for a few moments, grabbed a pillow, and cried into it hoping it muffled any sound you might make. You didn’t want him to see this. Not only was it embarrassing but for some reason you felt shame. You’d never thought that when you agreed to no strings attached fun with Lewis that you’d feel shame about it. Now that shame burned within you.

After allowing yourself a minute or two to cry you dried your cheeks and got up to get dressed. You’d read the room and the writings on the wall, and you knew what you had to do. You had to walk away first. Seeing his back as it got further and further away would break you. At least this way, you could retain some of your dignity.

In under 3 minutes you’d gotten dressed and gathered your things. Lewis was still in the bathroom, and you took the opening. Hesitating at the door your tears returned.

"Get a grip, Y/N."

You walked over to the notepad beside the bed and scribbled what was under the hurt you were feeling.

Lewis,

Grateful for the blessings, memories, and time we spent together, and thankful for the lesson. I’ll keep your secrets and in that you can trust. I wish you endless success and luck.

-Y/N

With that, you walked out of the suite with your head held high and back straight as your tears streamed down your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Two and ½ Years Later-

-Lewis-

"There she goes everyone. In the last 2 years, her skill have really gone into overdrive. She went from 18th in the league to 1st. Her stats rival some of the best in the sport. Here she goes setting up the goal. Her signature move is to pass it to the left while her team guards and blocks before McMullen will head butt it over for her to cut through the other team bringing it right up to the face of the goalie before she effortlessly beams it in."

"She has perfected this move and does not miss. If Chelsea has done their homework, hopefully, they have figured out a way to stop her."

"They would be the first. Somehow Y/N has made this move undefendable over the last 2 years. It really shows her grind to become this force of nature. Her teammates always say she’s first in training and the last to leave. She lives, eats, and breathes the sport and that dedication shows."

"Oh, oh here she goes! The pass! The defense by Arsenal here is incredible. This is one of their strong areas. No one is getting by which sets Y/N up to part the team on the left and here she goes!”

The stadium was so loud it was impossible to make out any understandable speech.

"She is so good at intimidation, and we see it here. There's the ball she really likes to bounce it off her chest then knees and--.”

The referee blew his whistle, stopping play because of an offense by a Chelsea player. Then it happened out of nowhere.

"Ooooooh!”

The stadium echoed the sound then it all went silent. Now even a referee's yellow card could be heard dropping to the grass.

He leaped to his feet from his location in the box seats he'd bought years ago to ensure he always had a spot to watch your home games when he was home. He couldn’t see you through the huddle most of your teammates had around you while a few others brawled with the other team.

Even he knows that was a foul move. The game wasn’t even in play. It was clearly a move to take you out of the game. Everything in him wanted to run from his box down to the field but he remained there. His legs planted unable to move them. He had no right. It had been almost 3 years since you truly interacted rather than seeing each other across a room or in the audience of an award ceremony. 3 years since that night.

Long minutes passed as everyone tried to get some control over the field. Team owners tried to wrangle brawling players and medics rushed the field pushing through the huddle of your team, even some media managed to get on the field to snap pictures and capture up-close footage. It was like hell had broken loose.

With every minute that passed, he felt even more on edge. Then the ref blew his whistle and made his call.

"Serious Foul Play, number 76, Brewer. Expulsion. 2 free kicks Arsenal"

The stadium echoed with claps, cheers, and admonishment for the call. It was a good call. He watched the offender exit the field talking a lot of shit but focused on you. You were lying on your back with your head angled backward and a grimace on your face.

"Fuck! Is she okay?"

"I can't tell," Miles replied.

"Shit."

After another minute or two, you got hoisted onto the board and carried off the field. That only made him worry more. Unable to stay where he was any longer, he left the box and made his way toward the team areas. You’d had scares before in your games, but this had to be the worst one in the nearly three years he’d been watching by far.

When he got close, he watched one of your teammates take the second free kick, making nothing but net. Chelsea’s only hope was to bring it into extra time and even that would take impeccable athleticism for the remaining 8 minutes. He doubted they had it.

The clock winded down 4 minutes and still no goal had been scored by Chelsea. That was when he caught the eye of the assistant coach, a good friend of his. He waved him over and watched as he approached.

"How you doing Lewis. We didn't know you were in the house tonight."

"I'm always here, you know that. How is she?"

He sighed then shook his head.

"A few bruised ribs, mild to moderate left hamstring strain, left shoulder popped out we had to reset it and she’s complaining her chest hurts. Could be muscle strain, or tenderness or more serious pretaining to her heart.”

"Fuck!”

"Yeah. She’s playing tough but she’s gotta be in a lot of pain."

"That player should never play again!"

"Yeah. Measures will be taken. Do you want to see her? I'm sure she'd like to see you. All the times you've been here asking about her."

"No. I...I don't think that's a good idea. Like always don't tell her I was here."

He nodded then shook his hand.

"Hang out in the associate box instead of going all the way back up."

He took the offer and called his team down. Against all the odds Chelsea managed to tie the game leaving 2 minutes of gameplay for possible extra time.

"Wild. It's clear their goal was to get Y/N out of the game. They knew she was the key."

It was more than obvious, and it pissed him off more. Suddenly a whistle blew, and he watched you slow jog onto the field. Half the stadium was cheering and the others murmuring amongst each other trying to understand what was happening. He was one of the latter.

"Isn't she hurt."

"She is. What is she doing?"

He zeroed in on your face and saw you grimace. You were definitely hurt. The list of injuries he’d just been told was serious and could be made worse with you aggravating them. You huddled with your team, and he noticed the Chelsea players looking at each other clearly panicking. You broke the huddle with a combined warrior's war cry that had become a ritual and signature of your team.

You broke out in formation, and he watched as play began again. The opponents made no attempt to hide their intention--keeping you held down. They tried everything they could to intercept the balls while heavily guarding you, but the ball never touched your feet. Instead, you took all the heat of them over guarding you, testing your strength and injuries while your team scored 2 goals in one minute.

"It’s a wrap,” Miles said while fanning off toward the field.

"Pack it up!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the commentary of Miles and Daniel together. While Chelsea had a plan, you came with your own plan, and they played right into it. Within the 15 second reprieve, he saw the pain on your face. You bent over and rested your hands on your knees and dipped your head down. He hated this.

The whistle sounded again, and play resumed. He watched the formation change on your team and the other team went back to equal guard leaving only 2 players on you. He snorted because he knew what was going to happen.

"Big mistake!”

You stood there inactive, which made the players on you watch you in confusion. They looked around unsure what to do as play continued around them. He did a quick glance at the clock noting there was under 40 seconds of play time. Your team made a run for the goal which made the players on you scramble to try to stop the goal by any means. That left you wide open. In a misdirection move the ball flew to you and you took off from midfield at top speed.

He watched your ball control in awe. By the time the other team realized their error it was too late. You were in the zone. You faked to the left breaking one of your opponents, making them slip into what must have been a painful split. You faked right and your second opponent dived for you missing completely.

You booked it to the goal as the rest of their team chased after you. When you were about 10 feet from the goal you kicked it to the right, then your teammate kneed it up and front kicked it back to you.

Everyone in the stadium was on their feet and it looked like it all moved in slow motion. You high jumped up getting major air then instead of your signature move you stuck your leg out and went for a flying bicycle side-kick. Looking tighter than the Nike check logo. Once your foot made contact he knew you had it and sure enough, the ball zipped through the air like a bullet and collided into the net signaling the end of the game and Arsenal's win clinching yet another title.

The stadium went absolutely wild. You remained laid on the field as your teammates jumped on you, cheering and celebrating another victory.

"She's a beast!"

They hoisted you up and put you on top as they passed you in the air. Though he could tell you were in pain you were all smiles. He couldn't help but smile too. He’d always loved your smile. It was the reason he always tried to make you happy just to see you smile. His heart thudded painfully and as strong as it ever had when he watched or thought of you. This had been going on for 3 years now and he was still hopelessly and painfully in love with you.

The field filled with press, the rest of the team, managers, and other personnel, and they all were in celebration mode. Your teammates let you down in front of a tall man who was smiling just as widely. He wrapped his arms around you and rested them just at your hip. It was an intimate move and just like that his hackles were up.

When he bent to your ear he watched your interaction while he wondered who he was and what he was to you. Over the years while you’d become a sensation and top player for Arsenal, you'd been able to keep your privacy and stay away from the paps. There was little to no info on you out there which meant he had no idea if there was someone in your life.

The thought that there was, made him clench his jaws though he probably had no right to the reaction. Not after he’d let you walk out and away from him nearly 3 years ago.

"Let's go."

Without waiting any longer, he turned, and a few people started pointing at him and shouting his name. Soon everyone near him was waving and cheering and calling to him. He smiled and waved back as he tried to slip out before you saw him. He shouldn’t have ever come no matter how much he missed you, no matter how much he craved having you near, and no matter how much he regretted what happened those years ago. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t any good for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Even now as you were sitting in your gown for the celebratory dinner hopped up on some superior pain medication you could have sworn you saw Lewis. Or the back of his hooded head. Was it really him? You didn’t know. It could have been anyone similar to his height and build wearing a hood. While your ears had picked up some murmurs in the crowd shouting his name, it could have been any Lewis.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You were being ridiculous right now. It had been almost 3 years and you were still thinking about him and looking for his face in the crowd and him in every man you encountered.

“How pathetic, Y/N. How much more do you want to suffer? Haven’t these years been enough?”

Just then, a pang of pain rippled through you that took your breath away. You threw your head back and held your breath as you tried to push through it. Perhaps the quick look-over you’d gotten during the ending part of the match wasn’t enough. Everyone had insisted that you be admitted but you knew you had to make an appearance at this dinner.

“I’ll do it after,” you groaned out to yourself.

“Y/N.”

You straightened and put on a brave face. “Ready. Let’s go.”

You stood on shaky legs and shook off the lingering pain while pleading with your body to give you a few more hours. Your job didn’t end after a win. The show must go on.

Thirty minutes later you were walking the gold carpet with the rest of your teammates smiling and being interviewed by reporters.

“Y/N!”

You approached a tall woman with gorgeous curly 4B hair that had subtle auburn streaks. The look complimented her nutmeg tone and striking features.

“Hi.”

“Hi to you. First of all, I stan you so hard! Today’s game was incredible. You were incredible. How are you? Should you be here tonight?”

You giggled. “Thank you. I uh—I appreciate you saying that. It was truly a team effort today and I’m just happy we could bring it home.”

“Can we talk about that hit?”

You shuddered remembering it and the immediate shock and pain you felt. “Uh, sure.”

“Did you see it coming?”

“No. I was focused on the goal and the plan.”

“Do you feel it was deliberate? A lot of fans and spectators are saying she had a plan to take you out of the game so it could make it easier for them to win.”

You’d heard the rumbles too. You’d had problems with Cadence Brewer for years. She’d tried taunting you for your entire career and when you’d surpassed her and any rankings she could have ever held the taunting became worse. You didn’t know what you’d done to her, but it was clear she didn’t want to be friends or even sportsman like.

“Um, I don’t know. I—I try not to go down those thought pathways. I go out there, play the sport I love with one goal in mind, to win. I really don’t focus on anyone else or their feelings toward me.”

“Well said and your skill sure speaks for itself. Are you doing okay tonight?”

“I’m doing all right, feeling not my best, sore but I’m dealing.”

“You look spectacular. Give us a spin.”

You did but it was a rather slow one. Anything more you would give away just how not your best you were feeling.

“Wow. You clean up well.”

You laughed then fanned her off.

“Thank you.”

You heard your name across the way and found your team waving you over.

“Looks like I’m needed. Thank you.”

You walked over to your team and posed for some pictures. It took another fifteen or so minutes before you made it inside and when you did, your hamstring was throbbing uncontrollably.

“If it isn’t the MVP of the night.”

You looked beside you and found Tyrone’s smiling face. You returned his smile the best you could and looked over him. He always did clean up nicely. His locks looked freshly tightened and skin glistened. He was a fine man indeed.

“You clean up nice,” you both said at the same time.

“How are you holding up?”

You bobbed your head from side to side indicating you were not great but not terrible.

“That could change in an hour though,” you added.

Tyrone held his arm out for you, and you looped it. He’d been hanging around for about 8 months now. Ever since a charity game between Aston Villa’s WFC and Arsenal’s where he’d cheered you on rather than the women’s side of his club you’d struck up a friendship. Truth be told, you couldn’t shake him. He showed up to your games when he didn’t have one, commented on your socials, constantly asked you to hang out, and even accompanied you to football events both of you needed to be at. It was nice, he was fun, and you now considered him a good friend.

Everyone on your team believed he was doing everything he could to woo you. While you couldn’t believe it, you did see some small signs he might be into you. You’d never reciprocated any of his advances because you didn’t think you could. You truly believed something inside of you was broken.

You had no interest in a repeat of what had happened to you a few years ago. You could call it once bitten, twice shy, or whatever. The facts were simple, ever since that night you’d pushed pause on anything that wasn’t football. You dedicated yourself to your training and becoming indomitable. You’d learned your lesson then and didn’t want any others.

Instead, you trained like a beast and put in all the work necessary to step your game up. In truth, you’d probably used football as a crutch and a means to forget Lewis and what your heart still felt for him. You’d even done your best to stay away from everything related to him but that had proved to be impossible. You lived in the same country, ran in the same circles and he was everywhere. You could barely walk down the street without seeing a magazine that didn’t have some coverage of him. It also didn’t help that F1 was one of two national sports of England and people truly lost their shit over him.

In the last near 3 years, his image had only gotten bigger, his fame more blinding and his alleged conquests more gorgeous. You had all the evidence needed that he didn’t give a shit about you. Within two weeks of you, he was rumored to have someone else he was giving his attention to. That was probably the worst part. You couldn’t escape the rumors.

The rumors were everywhere, and those rumors triggered some of the worst nights for you. For a long time, you couldn’t sleep because your imagination ran wild. You couldn’t do much of anything without thinking of him. Your only escape was football. At least for that you probably should thank him. You’d used him to become the monster you were today.

Arsenal management introduced you and the team to tens of people. You shook hands, smiled, posed for pictures, and mingled. Barely anyone stuck out because all the faces and names blended together after an hour. You knew this win was bolstering Arsenal’s image but when someone approached you and proposed you play during the offseason for a major off-season league it hit you that this win had catapulted you into a whole different layer in the atmosphere. You’d become bankable.

“Y/N, let me introduce you to some major players,” your assistant coach said to you just as Tyrone came up on your right side with two glasses of champagne.

“Uh, sure.”

Tyrone held his arm out to you again and you looped it. As you walked across the room you took the flute of champagne he offered and downed it.

“I love watching you work a room,” Tyrone whispered against your ear.

His lips brushed against you making you glance up at him. “I had no idea.”

“There’s a lot you have no idea about,” he replied, voice still tipped lower than ever before.

“Like what?”

His lip quirked up and he leaned closer again. “Like how irresistible I find you and how badly I’m trying to not pull you into a corner to kiss you senseless.”

Your eyes bugged. He’d finally shown his hand. Long gone were his flirty innuendos and could be, couldn’t be hints. You didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare at him.

“Eh-em.”

You tore your eyes from Tyrone’s and looked at your assistant coach who nudged his head forward. Looking in front of you, you got the wind knocked out of your lungs for the second time in 30 seconds. Your eyes locked with Lewis’ burnt honey ones and instantly your heart thudded painfully in your chest.

“Ah!”

You gripped your chest and five men lurched forward in an attempt to console you. Before anyone could touch you, Tyrone took your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you close.

“Are you alright?”

You rubbed at your chest and took a few breaths before you nodded.

“You should have been admitted,” your assistant coach muttered.

You waved off his concern and smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Tyrone cupped your cheek, bringing your face closer so he could really assess you. The gentleness in his touch and the tenderness in his eyes took you by surprise. Yeah, he’d been flirtatious before, but this was different. He’d declared intentions moments ago and suddenly these touches felt different. Your heart should have been touched, warmed at least but nothing. That wall you’d built around your heart steadfastly remained.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

You lowered Tyrone’s hand and looped yours with his before looking in front of you again. Though you tried to keep your gaze from his, your eyes still met Lewis’. His jaw was tightly clenched, eyes blazing with intensity and coldness. He looked like he was on the verge of decking someone. You were introduced to the two men flanking his left and right and then him. You had two ways to play this and decided on the path that would keep your promise from those years ago.

You smiled and held out your hand to him, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Lewis didn’t budge. He stared into your eyes as if he too were making his own decision of how to handle this moment. It felt like an eternity passed before he took your hand and shook it. Once he touched you, a static electric shock coursed through you and though it was slightly painful, it felt good though. Too good.

As you slowly shook hands, your eyes remained locked on one another as if no one else existed in this room and neither of you had anywhere else to be. Again, your heart thumped painfully against your chest cavity making you flinch. Yanking your hand away, you flexed your digits trying to shake off the feeling.

“Em, sorry. I dislocated this earlier it’s a little sore,” you appeased.

Why? You didn't know. You didn't have to explain why you wanted to keep your parts from his. You looped your arm with Tyrone's again and held tighter to him. You caught Lewis's eyes moving to your joined arms and yet again the tight clench of his jaw couldn't be missed.

How odd, you thought before you were distracted by one of the men with him addressing you.

“Amazing match, Y/N. Lewis has not been able to stop gushing about your skill and how coolly you handled yourself.”

You looked at Lewis who was still looking at yours and Tyrone's interlocked arms.

“Uh, thank you…I guess.”

“Still haven't learned how to take a compliment, huh.”

Lewis's comment caught you off guard and it must have been the case for Tyrone as well because you could feel his eyes on you. Not bothering to reply you smiled and simply shrugged.

The conversation continued with you having no way to escape. You'd often thought about the first time you spoke after the way things ended and you'd done your best to convince yourself that you were long past it and him. You were certain that you would be able to talk to him without feeling a thing.

Two and a half years had passed, but that was not the case. Being near him now made every injury you had thrice worse. The pain medication had taken 95 percent of the pain but the 5 that remained was persistent. Your body ached worse being in front of him and that one touch triggered some innate response.

So, not only were you trying to keep a brave face on so no one knew the extent of your injuries, but you were also trying to pretend like seeing Lewis again up close wasn’t affecting you. You had to pretend you'd never known what it felt like to intimately touch his flesh, or press your lips to his, or have him deep inside of you. You had to pretend like you hadn't fallen in love with an emotionally unavailable man who’d shown what he thought your worth was by letting you walk away. You had to pretend like you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself in front of him and that he hadn't seen you at your most vulnerable and turned way.

When Tyrone came up with an excuse to get to the table, you were thankful. Visibly weaker, Tyrone held tightly to you as he led you away and as you walked away you could feel Lewis' eyes boring holes into your back. Tyrone sat you in your seat then pointed out his seat at the next table then kissed your cheek before he went to his seat.

With a little time to yourself you recalled what the man with Lewis had said.

“…Lewis has not been able to stop gushing about your skill and how coolly you handled yourself.”

How did he know how you handled yourself? You were sure that commercials would have been on during the chaos after the tackle. The only way for him to know that was if he was in the stadium. The realization hit you so hard that another strong stab of pain surged through you making you squeeze the edge of the table.

With white spots dancing behind your eyes, you counted through it and focused on keeping your breathing leveled as you tried to push any other thoughts out. When the pain subsided, you looked up and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Barely making it halfway around the room, you locked eyes with Lewis who was seated so close but so far. Story of your entire entanglement you thought to yourself. From where you sat it was easy to mistake the intense look in his eyes for concern.

Scoffing to yourself, you shrugged the thought off, deeming it ridiculous. You wouldn’t fall for that twice. Straightening your back, you played it off and finished the glass of champagne before you in one rise to your head.

The dinner progressed with conversation on all topics mainly toasts of congratulations and a plethora of photo ops. If you were feeling better perhaps you would have enjoyed yourself more but after 2 hours you were so ready to leave. Your decline had been steady.

Every time your eyes accidentally met Lewis', your heart beat painfully. Each time you had to stand and pose for a picture your hamstring furiously rebelled making you feel its wrath. Every hand you shook you instinctively reached with your right hand which aggravated your shoulder that had become increasingly tighter and tighter as time elapsed. You kept telling yourself to get through to the MVP announcement and then leave but there was too much working against you tonight.

“Everyone, thank you for taking the time to celebrate with us tonight. Here at Arsenal, we consider ourselves a family and as a family, we are always proud of each member. Strong ties, loyalty, and devotion are the principles of Arsenal.”

The room erupted into applause that took several moments to quiet.

“As we do every year we are presenting our MVP selection for this season of very high, highs and few to no lows. This team is filled with valuable players. We've been lucky to recruit the best and those bests have only gotten more and more exceptional. Although I can only give this to one woman tonight I wish I could give it to all of them.”

Again everyone applauded. A few of your teammates patted your shoulder and pointed at you. It only made you more anxious. While this award wasn’t a huge deal, it was a big one. It said a lot within the sport, and it also would open you up to so many more opportunities. Not to mention anyone who got the MVP award was definitely getting a contract extension and with that extension a raise.

“So, without further ado, this woman has really gone above and beyond. She has not only enhanced her skill but has shown every football club why she deserves to be considered one of the brightest rising stars in the sport. Her stats speak for themselves and so do her moves. If you ask anyone on the team not only is she talented but she's humble. Not only a shark but a team player. Not only fierce but kind. So let me introduce this season's MVP. Y/F/N & Y/L/N!”

Shock flooded you and soon disbelief set in. As everyone around you stood and clapped, you remained seated unable to believe your name had been called. Your teammates all released a warrior's war cry as they surrounded you trying to coax you into action.

You hugged them all and smiled at others at your table then hugged Tyrone who was all smiles.

“You deserve it,” he whispered to you before he kissed your cheek.

You then made your way to the stage. You were so happy that your table was close but that happiness was short-lived when you clocked the 4 steps onto the stage. Before you could panic, you saw Lewis approach the side of the steps holding his hand out to you.

Internally, you panicked but externally you were as cool as a cucumber. You'd worked hard to cut yourself off from useless emotions and while his effect still had a relentless hold on you, you could rise above it. So, you did just that –raised above it. You slid your hand into his and ignored the electricity passing through your hand, and the way your belly flipped from the tightness of his hold, and his scent that was so familiar but so different bombarding you, and even the pain in your chest that intensified thanks to his proximity.

Each step up was slow and with each step, he was mindful of not only your dress but also your body. You noticed how he took most of your body weight on the right side as if he knew your hamstring was shredded. He also used a second hand to secure your shoulder which you'd mentioned was dislocated a few hours before so there was no added strain. When you suddenly leaned back thanks to a spasm of pain in your ribs, his arm was there bracing your back holding you in a way that brought memories to the forefront of your mind.

How did he know to do these things? Did he know the specifics of your injuries? How? Had he really been in the stadium?

Lewis walked you to the podium then stepped back so he was in the darkened part of the stage clearly trying to not steal your shine. The room continued and it took a while to quiet down still wanting to clap, cheer and warrior cry to their heart's content.

You felt a rush of pride swell through you. It had paid off. The road here hadn't been easy. You'd pushed yourself to the max and then some, sacrificed a lot, and even went through a time of depression because of everything. Now it all seemed worth it.

Once the room quieted, you gave your acceptance speech thanking everyone by name, mentioning any and everyone who had a part in making this possible today. You didn't leave anyone out and made sure they each knew how grateful you were to and for them.

When you recounted how much work you'd done in the last nearly 3 years, your emotions caught up with you. It was then the memories of you and Lewis came back, memories of the heartbreak, memories of how hard healing was, and how much you struggled to even get out of bed and make it to practice. It was also then another bite of pain hit you, this one worse than all the others. You gripped your chest and hunched over the podium as the microphone feedback rang through the room.

Your vision blurred and all sound disappeared as you struggled to catch a breath. In the blink of an eye, all you saw was light being shut off all around you until only one remained as you felt yourself falling. Rather than the pain of a hard floor, you felt strong arms. Over you, you peered into a blurry face that went in and out of focus but brought with those strong arms, a familiar feeling washed over you. One you'd felt all night. Lewis.

As the last light shuttered, you made out one final word.

“Babygirl.”

~~~~~~~~

Everything ached but also felt numb. It was a strange combination. Fluttering your eyes open you heard loud voices just a breath below a shout.

“I've got it from here. You can go.”

“Excuse you? I'm not going anywhere. You can go. Like what is your purpose here anyway? She doesn't even know you.”

A snort sounded in the room. “Trust she knows me more than she knows you.”

“How? You just met a week and a half ago.”

“Don’t worry about other people's business. Mind yours.”

“She is my business. Look just because you’re Lewis Hamilton doesn’t mean anything here.”

“And who are you mate? Some rookie footballer on a come up?”

Clatter followed then several voices.

“You both need to leave! There is no fighting in here.”

“Take it outside!”

Panic and confusion welled within you, and it only intensified when you realized you couldn’t speak. It was then you realized the long tube over your head. The machines then went insane and seconds later you were surrounded by people. To the back of the huddle, you caught a glimpse of Tyrone and Lewis but in seconds they were gone.

“Calm down, Y/N. It’s all right. You’re safe, and currently admitted to the hospital. You’ve been here for a little over a week and we had to intubate you.”

The more she spoke the more you panicked until you were struggling against them trying to get out of the bed.

“She’s panicking. Sedative.”

That was the last thing you heard before it went black all over again.

~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes opened again the room was bright—too bright. Squinting you groaned but it came out sounding more like a toad’s croak. in seconds you were flanked by the faces of your family.

“Y/N?”

Your mother gently cupped your cheeks as tears streamed down her cheeks. You opened your mouth to reply but nothing came out. You tried again and again but still, there was no sound.

“It’s okay calm down. You were intubated. It’s normal to not be able to talk for a few hours,” your father informed.

Slowly, you calmed yourself but then wondered why you were intubated. Seeing the question in your eyes, your mother responded.

“You had a collapsed lung. You should have gone straight to the hospital so they could treat it but the delay in treatment made it worse. You’re so stubborn.”

You smirked and raised your hand to wipe your mother’s cheek hoping she took it as your apology. She held your hand to her cheek and stared lovingly into your eyes. Soon the doctors came in to check you over to gauge your healing progress. As they examined you, they filled you in on every medical measure that had been taken. They seemed to know the questions you had so as they went they answered them. Thankfully, you’d make a full recovery with time and physical therapy. They didn’t see any reason why your ability to play the sport should be hindered.

An hour later, your teammates all rolled through with flowers, stuffed animals, and get-well banners and cards. They teased you about your dramatic antics with fainting while you had everyone’s attention ensuring you’d be the talk of the town for weeks if not months. You laughed but with every chuckle, your ribs fought you. When they left the doctors ordered no more visits for the day so you could get some needed rest.

You were grateful because you were downright exhausted.

The next day you woke feeling a little more like yourself, especially since you woke up with the raspy version of your voice. While it sounded like you smoked 3 packs a day it was better than nothing. By noon after your first PT appointment for your hamstring, you were in good spirits. That was when Tyrone’s face popped around the threshold holding an embarrassing bouquet of flowers.

“Hey there gorgeous.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. He approached you and then bent to kiss your cheek.

“You must have taken a bicycle kick to the face recently cause you’re blind.”

He chuckled and placed the flowers on your bedside table.

“For you.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than bad, worse than great.”

He nodded then rubbed the back of his neck. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tyrone sat in the chair beside the bed staring at you as if he had so much to say to you.

“What?”

He sighed then leaned forward. “I have feelings for you, Y/N.”

You froze.

“You had to know.”

You remained silent.

“I’ve been debating with myself for months, 8 to be specific on if I should continue pursuing you or move on. I wasn’t sure if it was me you weren’t feeling or if I wasn’t being direct enough so—I have feelings for you. I like you—a lot.”

“I love you, Lewis.”

Your words from three years ago echoed in your head. You saw the scene playing before you again and coupled with Tyrone’s confession you remained frozen in panic. It felt like you were in the same situation again.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes focused on him again and you fought to push the memories away.

“You had to know.”

“I—I didn’t. not really.”

“And now that you know? Do you—do you feel the same?”

The long stretch of your silence must have been answer enough. Tyrone blew a breath out.

“Do you feel anything for me?”

Again you couldn’t speak. Pinching the bridge of your nose you sighed.

“Wow,” Tyrone said.

“Ty, I think you’re great.”

“Aw man.”

“No. Let me finish. You’re great. You’re fun, funny, sweet, kind, giving, chivalrous and so many other things. You’re a good guy and I wish I felt the same way as you. I wish I felt. I just—I can’t.”

“Wish you felt? What does that mean? Were you just toying with me?”

“I never toyed with you and I’m sorry if that’s what you think. I’m—I’m not in any mind frame to reciprocate what you feel.”

He looked genuinely confused and just as you were going to open your mouth to say more there was a knock. Both of you turned around to see Lewis standing there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. A slew of emotions filled you, annoyance, relief, awe, hope, anger, and something that resembled happiness.

He smiled while keeping his eyes on you.

“Jasmine and Gardenias still your favorite flowers?”

“You know each other?”

“I tried to tell you, mate, now your feelings hurt.”

You watched Tyrone look between you and Lewis a few times each time his eyes got bigger and bigger.

“Wow. Wow, woooow. I see.”

“Ty, it’s not like that.”

He stood and raised his hand. “It’s all right, Y/N. I get it. I’m gonna get out of here. I hope you’re well soon Arsenal needs you.”

You stared at each other and read what he wasn’t saying with words. He was giving you an out, releasing you from any sort of obligation to reciprocate his feelings. You recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same look you had those years ago.

“Thank you, Ty.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you.”

With that he walked to the door and shoulder checked Lewis in an aggressive confrontational move. Lewis scoffed but didn’t retaliate.

“Bye Ty,” Lewis taunted.

When it was just the two of you, you registered the change in the air. Before it was filled with such high testosterone. The testosterone of a man trying to mark his territory and now it only got more pungent. Lewis approached you and with every step he took toward you, you inched backward as if he were poison itself.

Lewis placed his bouquet of flowers down in front of the one Tyrone had just brought and the heady scent of gardenias and jasmine circled you. He’d often brought you them in the past. Why did he remember your favorite flowers? With cautious eyes you watched him sit in the seat.

“How do you feel?”

You almost laughed. You hadn’t expected the first words he’d say directly to you one on one would be these. You didn’t know what you’d expected but this wasn’t it.

“Fine,” you lied.

“With a shredded hamstring, a dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs, a collapsed lung you’re fine?”

There it was. Confirmation.

“Why do you know that?”

Lewis didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at you for such a long time it made you uncomfortable. When you realized he wasn’t going to answer you looked away.

“Thanks for the flowers, you should go.”

“Why don’t want to see me?”

“Why would I want to see you? There’s no reason for you to be here. We don’t know each other.”

“Oh come on Y/N. We know each other better than most.”

“I disagree, you know 90% of the female population just as well.”

His brow flicked up as his mouth screwed.

“Wait that was 2 years ago. What is it now 95 percent? No? 98?”

Lewis scoffed and shook his head.

“I might deserve that.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not doing this. There really is no reason to. Let’s go back to staying away from each other and ignoring the other’s existence. Please leave.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Lewis began.

“Okay you’ve done that. I’m fine. On the mend will make a full recovery.”

“Y/N—.”

“Thanks for stopping by. Have a good one.”

You turned away from him looking to the left where the entire side was taken up with flowers, cards, and balloons. Lewis sighed, stood then walked to the door. You didn’t know where the anger was coming from. You thought you’d moved past that. Unable to, you looked at his back. Those years ago you didn’t think you were strong enough to watch his back as he got further and further away from you and sitting here now you remembered every feeling you had that night. You also remembered the repercussions of those feelings.

"We shouldn't have ever done this. I shouldn't have done this.”

The tears pricked your eyes, and the overwhelming feeling of loss and heartbreak consumed you. His back for further and further but before he walked through the door he paused. you pressed your palm to your mouth hoping to stifle any sound from passing. After a few moments, Lewis walked out of the room, turning right down the hall before the door closed behind him.

Once alone you waited a few moments before you allowed yourself to cry. Though you tried you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept coming until you were so worked up that your entire body felt as if it were going haywire. Suddenly, you couldn’t control yourself, you couldn’t seal yourself off from all the things you thought you’d dealt with but were now bombarding you.

You grabbed your pillow, buried your face in it and screamed until your throat burned. Then you bawled. Suddenly your door flung open and in walked Lewis.

“You’ve got me fucked up; you walked out. You left!”

You were so far down your spiral that you couldn’t stop your tears. Lewis hurried across the room to you asking a series of questions to gauge what was wrong.

“Don’t—Don’t touch—me!”

Lewis stopped right beside you respecting your wishes. “What’s wrong?”

“G—g—ge—get out!”

“No. Talk to me, Y/N.”

“Get out!”

The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this—not again. He’d seen you fall apart those years ago and you couldn’t do it again. Two nurses rushed in asking questions about what happened but when they didn’t get any response one of them escorted Lewis out as the other tried to console you. However, nothing worked which led them to sending you into the oblivion of darkness yet again.

~~~~~~~~~

-Two Weeks Later-

The moral of the story for you had always been that while love was a pure emotion it was a weakness, and it was a weakness you couldn’t afford. The solution was to block it with everything in you. However, that was no solution at all. You pushing down your feelings, ignoring them, and practically running from the pain only ended up catching up to you. You saw that now.

The last two weeks of recovery were tough. While the pain was manageable with heavy meds you were cooped up in your house with nothing but your head as company. That meant you thought about everything all over again. You had to come to terms with the pain and face everything you’d buried from shame and embarrassment.

When the doorbell rang, you expected it to be food, so you hobbled on your crutches to the door but when you opened it, there stood Lewis.

“No.”

You attempted to slam the door, but he caught it. “Can we talk?”

“No. How did you find out where I lived?”

“Reese.”

Everything clicked then. He had been at the match and Reese was his informant. Sighing, you dipped your head and mumbled a curse.

“Please, Y/N. I think it’s 3 years overdue.”

You scoffed and the urge to smack him with your crutch filled you. He must have seen it before he raised his hands in defeat. For the first time, you saw the two bags he held.

“The unconscionable mix of Thai and sushi still your favorite?”

Just then your belly rumbled giving him the answer.

“You should consider moving, the attendant downstairs let me take your food up just because I was Lewis Hamilton.”

Rolling your eyes, you hobbled away giving him a few seconds to catch the door. If he did he did if not oh well. When you got to the living room you dropped into the seat and elevated your leg with a groan.

“You’re the only person who will eat Thai and sushi together,” Lewis said as he laid out the containers from the bags across your center table.

Slowly, you slid down to the floor then began building a bed for your thigh. Lewis approached and took over stuffing couch pillows under and around your thigh until your leg was properly elevated. Your eyes briefly met but it only lasted a few seconds. Silently, you dug into the containers and focused on piling your plate with food.

“I only bought for me. Your plant-based ass will just have to starve.”

Lewis snorted then chuckled. “It’s all good.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Your answer was short, and voice clipped and it was enough for him to get that you didn’t want to talk. You ate in silence for several minutes but soon you turned on the tv. Lewis reached for the remote and turned it off making you sigh.

“Come on. Haven’t you taken enough? Now you want to take my tv?”

“I’ve taken? Y/N. I’m lost here. You walked out. You left me in that hotel room in Mauritius. You did that.”

“Was I supposed to stay to hear words that were pointless in saying? Was I supposed to stay so you could have the upper hand? Fuck out of here Lewis.”

“The upper hand? Y/N this wasn’t a game.”

“Wasn’t it? From the beginning it was a game, and you know it. The only thing is I was the one who lost.”

“I never--.”

“Stop Lewis. What do you want?”

He groaned, rubbed his forehead as he shook his head. He looked distressed as if you were aggravating him, but he had no right.

“For the last 3 years I’ve carried so many regrets.”

“Same here.”

“Do you regret meeting me? Regret being with me?”

Looking at him you paused your chopsticks in their air. It wasn’t a hard question. You knew the answer. Was it the truth though? Was it your bitterness speaking? You broke eye contact and went back to your food.

Lewis sighed then spoke, “I regret letting you walk out that door. I regret not going after you. I regret not showing up at your place to clarify things. I regret these 3 years apart. I regret staying away. I regret not telling you the truth of matters. I regret—making you cry. I regret hurting you.”

With every bomb dropped your heart pounded louder and louder. Soon it felt like there was a herd of horses in your chest wildin' out. Keeping your eyes planted on your plate, you fought the urge to look at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the uncertainty and hope in your eyes. You wanted to kick yourself for feeling hope.

“Well what’s done is done,” you tightly said.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I mean?”

“What’s the purpose? The answer holds no authority to me. No one can change the past and talking about it is pointless.”

“Come on Y/N,” Lewis pleaded.

“What Lewis! What! What do you want to talk about? Hm? You wanna talk about how many regrets you have? Fine. Why does it matter?”

Your explosion was from your aggravation. You knew the longer you talked about this the more pain it would cause. So what if after 3 years he was having regrets and now felt like talking. So what if he was trying to appease his conscience so he could sleep better. So what if the consequences of his bad decisions were finally catching up to him.

“It matters because I’m here and I want to make things right. I want to do right by you.”

“After 3 years?”

You laughed manically then. It sounded bitter, hell it tasted bitter.

“Hear me out—please.”

You struggled to stand and grimaced the entire time. Lewis lunged over to assist but you lurched away.

“I can manage.”

Once up, you hobbled to the kitchen on the hunt for one of the bottles of Umeshu that you stored for nights you ate Thai and Sushi. It didn’t take you long to find the gorgeous bottle that had paintings of Japanese cherry blossoms all over it. You grabbed a glass from your overhead cupboard then hobbled back to your seat. Not bothering to build a fort for your leg you filled the cordial glass you had.

“Should you be drinking if you’re on meds?”

You side-eyed him sending every bit of annoyance to him. Nodding, he backed down. Knocking the tart but sweet liquor back, you slurped and hit your hand on the table as it burned your tastebuds.

“Mmm.”

You poured another and repeated your action, then 2 more followed. You moaned again. “Mm, if I hear you out will you leave and drop this?”

Your eyes met.

“If you still want that then yes.”

You poured and knocked back one more glass then slammed it on the table. “All right. Go ahead.”

Lewis slid down to the floor with you then took your glass and poured his own drink and gulped it.

“Thought you gave it up.”

“A bit of liquid courage is needed,” he said before he took another glass full.

Lewis held the bottle with one hand and the glass with the other as the silence filled the room. With the lights dimmed only enough to give the room a very soft glow it felt like an intentional romantic setting. You almost wanted to get up and turn the lights on full glare but the hassle of getting up stopped you and you deemed it best to have whatever conversation he wanted in as little light as possible.

“When we met I wasn’t—a great guy. I had good qualities I know that, and those qualities maybe made it seem like I was a good guy, but I was about 3 things. Racing, having fun, and no attachments. I didn’t want anyone hanging onto me wanting something other than fun, laughs, and sex. It was too much. So I played around and was fully about that life. I didn’t care to keep one woman, the more the better, the more the merrier.”

You snatched your glass back and poured yourself another drink. He felt like being real, real. You drank it down and let him continue.

“I saw you across the club and I instantly thought you were gorgeous. You were the only woman there not showing an excessive amount of skin who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. I found it—you to be such a conundrum and the longer I watched you, the more I wanted to figure you out. But as I watched you I knew I should have walked away and left you alone, but I couldn’t. I tried; God knows I did.”

He sighed then took the glass and bottle back. You nearly snorted. This was a first between you. You’d never sat and drank together. You’d done so many things together but sat and drank and bared your personal truths were not among them.

“Ah,” he hissed before he continued, “When I said that I knew this wasn’t a good idea even before I touched you, from the second I looked into your eyes I meant I always knew I’d ruin you. I knew I’d break you because apparently, that is what I do with women in my world. That is what my world does to the women around me.”

You glanced at him at that confession. All this time you thought he meant something else, something more against you, but this was against himself.

“You were so innocent, and truth be told I was drawn to that, and it was probably because I liked new things and to claim things, so I did what I knew best though I warred with myself the entire time. Somewhere deep down I didn’t want to ruin you, but I couldn’t stay away. So, things escalated and escalated. Tried as I did to keep you like all the rest, slowly you ended up being like none at all.”

You swirled your finger around the rim of the glass allowing his words to settle. Your entire interaction played in your head. The things you did together outside the bedroom, the fun you had, the conversations, the cuddling, and the soft whispers. Those memories coupled with the Umeshu had you feeling soft. Groaning, you poured another glass. You were still too sober for this.

“You ended up being someone I could talk to about more than superficial shit, someone I could unload my frustrations with the sport, annoyance with my day, someone I could open up to and share pieces of myself. I didn’t even intentionally do it, it all just—happened. it was effortless. All of a sudden I stopped seeing you as this pass time, someone to distract me from everything, someone to sate my desires and have some fun with. I saw you as more.”

As he spoke you recalled when you’d gone through those very same sentiments. It was sudden for you too. So sudden that you didn’t believe it when you recognized it. After all, he was the first man you’d fallen in love with. Even thinking it you felt silly. Lewis Hamilton was your first love. And your first heartbreak, a voice inside your head reminded.

“More and more I wanted to spend time with you, more and more I kept thinking about you, and more and more I found myself breaking my rules and going out of character. The night you—told me how you felt it resonated with me and I knew I couldn’t keep you around me anymore.”

You abandoned the glass and brought the bottle to your head.

“My world isn’t as great as everyone thinks. I knew if you were part of it you’d get eaten, chewed, and spit out. I know how ugly it gets and I wanted to save you from that. I wanted to do whatever I could to not break you. So—I let you go.”

That confession hit you in the face like it were a low hanging tree branch. Looking at him you scrunched your face.

“What?”

You scoffed but that turned to a chuckle then an alcohol-induced guffaw. The irony was too good to not laugh. Long moments passed with you laughing not only at the situation but him and yourself.

“Let me get this straight. You wanted to not break me but ended up doing that very thing?”

Again you laughed.

“Y/N,” Lewis began but you cut him off.

“How completely ridiculous. Did you think ignoring me for years and pretending I didn’t exist wouldn’t break me? Did you think that after I sat there and confessed something so personal something that made me the most vaulnerable I’ve ever been in my life only to have it be met with horror and annoyance wouldn’t break me? Did you think that after I’d fallen in love for the first time, with the world’s most unavailable man, to have that man shoot me down wouldn’t break me?”

You laughed some more as you took another swig from the plum wine bottle.

“I’m sorry,” Lewis whispered. “I made a mistake. I fucked up.”

You rolled your eyes then took another mouthful ignoring the burn on your tongue and the puckering of your glands.

“I should have gone after you. I wanted to but I couldn’t--I. I wanted to tell you--,” Lewis sighed again.

You’d never seen him like this before. He always knew the right thing to say. He always said the right thing. Lewis Hamilton was eloquent and thought quickly on his feet and gave no evidence that he’d made something up on the fly. When he spoke he always held people captivated. The man sitting adjacent to you was not that man.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

You scoffed again. There was a time when you thought hearing him apologize was what you wanted. You thought hearing those words would make you feel better but hearing them now and seeing the condition of him across from you didn’t feel any better.

“I thought I wanted your sorries, that I deserved them for how you made me feel but now—it doesn’t matter. You got your freedom that night, your days, nights, weeks, months, years. You got freedom and peace, but I got trapped and tormented. You were okay all these years. You went on with your life, went on with your conquests and party lifestyle. You went on and had great days, you slept well. I didn’t get that. I didn’t get my days or nights, or weeks or months, all this time I was trapped in this loop of heartache and shame. My world stopped and yours spun on. I wasn’t okay, I didn’t have great days or slept well, I’ve had trouble sleeping for 3 years,” you absentmindly listed.

You sighed then shook your head, “When a heart breaks it’s never an even break. You got the better end.”

You raised the bottle to your head again and managed two gulps before Lewis pulled it from you and took a few gulps of his own.

“You have no idea how wrong you are. I got freedom? Ha! I got peace? I wish! You’ve haunted me for every single day of the last 3 years. Your face, your smile, Christ almighty your smile, your voice, your touch, your scent, your laugh. Fuckin’ “ell!”

Lewis grabbed his head then slid closer to you. In your head, you moved back but in reality, you remained where you were.

“I was not okay. Yeah to everyone looking in I looked fine but what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to go out looking how I felt inside? Was I supposed to look like I was on death’s door as I felt?”

“Yes!”

Your words slammed against all the walls in the living room giving him the first definite indication of the rage you felt deep down.

“Yes! Yes, you were supposed to do all of that. You didn’t and made me feel so small, so insignificant in your life, like the last year we’d spent together truly meant nothing at all. You moved on within 2 weeks. 2 weeks! Had me feeling like I deserved that shit, like it was my fault that I couldn’t stay in the fucked-up parameters we’d established.”

“I never said it meant nothing that you meant nothing, Y/N.”

“You never said anything. Your actions did it all. Your actions. This is just about hooking up Y/N, then you look at me so deeply so intensely that you steal my breath. I can only give you this, Y/N, then you cuddle with me for hours whispering how sweet and amazing I am. What the fuck Lewis! You played with me like a toy then had the nerve to be horrified.”

“I love you!”

Everything stopped then. Time, light, space, the universe, your heart. Everything. You snapped your head to him. His eyes were already on you, those dewy pots of melted molasses that promised so much more than forever, the eyes that looked so tortured now.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since you showed up at my house drunk out of your mind ready to dance for me. The night you gave the worst striptease in the world, the night I saw the goofy, hidden seductress you keep buried. The night you allowed yourself to be completely out of your box and just be. I fell in love with you that night, I fell so hard that I didn’t bother using a condom that night. I fell so completely that I risked it all and left it up to whatever powers that be. I let go of control that night and fell in love with you.”

Your eyes were wider than saucers at that confession. There was no way that was true. He’s lying, you kept telling yourself.

“Bullshit.”

“Hand to God. The night you told me how you felt I wanted to risk it all again, I wanted to tell you how I felt, I wanted to make every promise under the sun to you and vow you’d have me completely and openly. I wanted so fucking much that night and I almost took it all, but I couldn’t. I was—scared. I didn’t know how any of it had happened, I didn’t expect it and I sure as hell didn’t know how to accept it. I was scared I’d ruin you, scared my life, my world would ruin you, and have you hate me in the end like it had to others.”

You stared into his eyes reading him, trying to gauge the level of truth in his words. You hated that more than half of you wanted to believe him, hated that you wanted to throw everything away and wrap yourself into him and those 3 words. Tearing your eyes from his, you looked down at the bottle. A heavy tear rolled down your cheek and that was how the floodgates opened.

You sobbed silently at first then let it all out. As you cried not only did the tears fall freely, but so did all the emotions you’d bottled up. You cried your anger, fears, shame, and pain out. You couldn’t hold it anymore. It was all too much.

“I can—can—can’t do this anymore. It’s too much!”

“I’m sorry. I tried to stay away from you. I tried to keep my distance, but it’s been impossible. My heart wants you; I want you. I need you in my life, Y/N. I need to be able to look into your eyes every morning, I need to hear your voice beside me, I need to feel your skin against mine, I need to hold you close, I need to love you.”

When you felt his hand on yours you wailed louder. Everything you’d wanted to hear you’d heard tonight. Everything you’d wanted to see, you saw tonight. You’d gotten it all and you didn’t know what to do next.

“Do you still love me, Y/N?”

What a stupid question you thought but you shook your head. “I can’t.”

“Y/N--,” Lewis croaked.

“Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” Lewis countered pulling you into him so there was barely any space between your bodies. “Everything has changed.”

You scrunched your face and tried to push him away, but he relented.

“3 years too late.”

“I don’t believe that. You don’t either. You can’t. This entire time I can feel the struggle in you, I can hear it and see it. You don’t mean that.”

“Lewis--.”

“It’s never too late. I’m here. I know I was wrong; I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you and I have to put the work in for your forgiveness and to show you that you can trust me. I can do that. I want to. Your world stopped that night but mine didn’t spin on, it stopped too. All these years I’ve been trapped in this loop of regret and self-hatred, all because I wasn’t strong enough—brave enough.”

With every word, you found yourself allowing him closer and closer despite your head warring within you. It was telling you to run. When Lewis tilted your chin up your eyes met and that’s where they remained.

“Do you love me?”

More tears welled in your eyes just as you shook your head.

“You’re lying. I can see it.”

You pulled away from him and it felt like forcing superglued skin apart. When you’d managed to create some space between you, you groaned from the pain that his absence brought. Not again, you thought.

“You have to leave. Go.”

“Y/N.”

“I told you I’d let you explain, and I did, and you said you’d leave when you were done if I still wanted it.”

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretched between you again. The pain on Lewis’ face was clear but you steeled your heart that somehow had turned to melted ice.

“Please, Y/N. Don’t do this. Put me out of my misery, put yourself out of this misery.”

He held out his hand to you. “Take my hand. Take my hand and show me the way to fix this. Let me back into your arms, into your life--in your heart.”

Ooof, you thought just before you rubbed your chest. He’d found his stride; his eloquence was returning, and you would never survive it.

“Lewis--.”

You stared at his hand and what was keeping you from taking it was fear. He’d broken you before, he could easily do it again. Holding that fear you knew it would only lead you to more misery. You knew fear would never make you happy. You also know you still loved him as much as you ever did. You’d never stopped. But was it enough? Could you be happy together?

His eyes said yes, your bruised heart said yes, your head said no. Your gut and instincts had left the group chat.

Heart or head, Y/N?

~~~~~~~~~~

-Two Years Later-

“Y/N. Y/N, Y/N!”

You jogged across the field to the reporter waving your down from the middle of the field while accepting pats on the back from those you passed.

“There she is. The woman of the game. The reason Arsenal brought home another title. How does it feel?”

Your smile was wide. “It feels—incredible. I’m really happy we could pull this off. Of course it’s all thanks to these women who have my back and are so incredibly skilled.”

“Of course. What a welcome back season. Arsenal’s WFC has become the most enviable WFC thanks to the relationship you all have with one another.”

“These are my besties. We really do like each other and spend so much time together. It makes working seem like play every day.”

“So you took a year off to get yourself back into beast shape but that didn’t stop these women from bringing home the title. And We had the same results 2 years ago but under different circumstances. You stand here today without injury.”

You chuckled. “Thank God. That wasn’t fun at all.”

“You worked really hard to come back from your hamstring injury and that collapsed lung. Would you say you’re in the same shape as you were two years ago?”

“No. Absolutely not. I feel like I’m in better shape this year than last year and definitely than the last before. I’ve gone through a lot of changes within that time physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually everything, and I think it all compounded to make such a profound difference.”

“Yes, you have gone through many changes, mainly a status change. You’re no longer Y/F/N & Y/L/N. You’re now Y/F/N & Y/L/N Hamilton. Or what everyone in the club likes to tease you with, Lady Hamilton.”

You snorted and shook your head. “They sure do love to tease me.”

“Would you credit your new marriage and new husband with helping you get into what you call the best shape?”

“Umm, yeah. With every life change, there will be changes that ricochet from it and everything has been positive. A better mental and emotional state helps with a clearer mind and heart which allows you to put in the work where needed.”

“So Lewis has been helping you?”

“Absolutely. I get in the training with the team, and he helps when we’re home we do jogs, we work out in the gym. He’s been great.”

“Is he here now?”

“He’s here somewhere.”

Just then you felt arms wrap around your midsection and you couldn’t help but smile widely.

“There he is.”

Lewis peppered kisses behind your ear and along your jaw clearly ignoring the sweaty mess you currently were. He released you then turned you to him and lifted you into his arms.

“Congratulations, princess.”

“Thank you.”

His hands splayed across your ass holding you there as he spun. Before he put you down he pressed his lips to yours once, twice then a third time before he dipped his tongue into your mouth to swirl around yours.

“Mmm.”

“Eh-Em.”

You pulled from him and hid your face as the women behind you let out a warrior cry in response to your nearly NC-17 display.

“Sorry,” you said.

“I’m not. She’s my wife, I’ll kiss her whenever I want.”

The reporter giggled. “No complaints here. Tell us Lewis how proud of your wife are you?”

“So incredibly proud. She worked hard for this; they all did. I am proud of all of them.”

“Congratulations on the wedding by the way.”

“Thank you. We’re very happy,” he replied.

“Very!”

“Ever since it was revealed you were engaged everyone had one thing they kept repeating, that your kids would be sports legends with both of your genes. Any comment?”

Lewis chuckled then shrugged. “Love?”

“Guess we’ll have to wait the 7 months to find out.”

Lewis’ eyes bugged then he turned you to him. “What!?”

You smiled wide and nodded.

“You’re messing with me.”

“No.”

“Y/N. Are you serious? You’re--.”

You nodded and within seconds Lewis had you in his arms spinning around.

“Oh my god. Wow!”

Lewis laughed and walked away carrying you away from anyone who wanted a moment of your time. He couldn’t care less that the interviews were part of your job.

“For real, for real?”

“Yes. I was going to tell you tonight,” you said.

Lewis cupped your cheeks and peered so deeply into your eyes that you could feel his love in your soul.

“I love you so fucking much.”

“You better remember those words when I’ve gained 50 pounds, a double chin, a humongous ass, canckles, and an insatiable sex drive because of you and your spawn.”

Lewis snorted then pulled you closer. “50 pounds, double chin, gigantic ass, and canckles doesn’t matter you will always be the most beautiful woman I see. Hands down.”

“Oh sweet talker.

“As for that insatiable sex drive…I think I am more than capable of helping out with that.”

His smirk was filled with mischief. You shook your head.

“Babes I think that’s how we ended up here, your helping out.”

The two of you laughed as he hugged you again. Lewis’ lips pressed along your neck before he began nipping at your skin.

“You’re not so innocent anymore, huh.”

“You tell me, Sir Hamilton.”

Again he smirked before bringing his lips back to your neck. You felt his hands slide down the small of your back to your ass just before he squeezed it.

“Naw, Lady Hamilton is a pro at taking this dick.”

A soft moan escaped you before you brought his hands from your ass to his side. You tipped onto your toes and went to his ear.

“And Lady Hamilton will take all that dick and then some tonight.”

You kissed his ear then jogged off. When you’d made it a few feet away you turned back to him and blew him a kiss. Lewis smiled wide and winked at you. That one simple act turned your insides into molten lava. You made your way back to your teammates completely pumped to get through all the interviews so you could go home to your man, your first love.

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

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[aphroditesmoon]

hi can i request one where Boromir meets the reader during Elrond’s council and is doubtful of them when they join the fellowship because he doesn’t think they can handle themselves in a fight but they turn out to be the most skilled fighter out of the whole fellowship and basically falls in love with the reader? <3

when I knew love's perfect ache

boromir son of denethor ii x witch!reader

warnings: weapons

a/n: sorry I took awhile, hope u like this!! I added a bit of my own ideas<33

°°°°

You knew what you were there for. From the moment you saw crows filling the sky in one fast swoop, loud in warning. And the animals had fled from open spaces to seek shelter in the welcoming forests.

When you arrived in Lord Elrond's home, it wasn't unexpected in his eyes, nor was it in the wizard Gandalf's.

"You're late." The elf teases in his own manner with a raised brow. "Im never late, I'm where I'm supposed to be, when I'm supposed to be." You replied.

"If that's what you need to tell yourself to sleep better at night." You roll your eyes at that before following his lead.

Despite his scolding of you, it seemed you were actually early. You saw glimpses of two mortal men, one of them you recognized, Estel. Walking through his home, eyeing everything in the large halls of his beautiful place, you admire the elven architecture.

Your dark coloured dress and the haunted vision it gives to your appearance seems to have no effect to the servants leading you to your room and smiling towards you from corners of the halls.

They have heard of you, though you've always made sure your identity remains discreet, the elven ears and eyes sees and hears many.

Leaving behind the servants lead, you walk towards the ranger and his companion, a knowing smile on your lips. "Age seems to have nothing on you, Aragorn." He doesn't flinch at your voice, as he doesn't flinch at anything. Instead, he speaks your name first before turning his head towards you.

"Of course, I should've expected your presence, apart of the council for the horrors middle earth might be heading towards."

You let a hand move to his shoulder, squeezing it in comfort.

"And who do we have here? Captain of Gondor." You answer your own question as his face flashes in front of your face, and in your own mind.

"I don't believe we've met before." He concluded, frowning in question. "No, I believe we haven't."

You end it there before turning to leave the men to themselves, being the first to arrive to the meeting alongside the prince Legolas Greenleaf.

The elf greets you with a smile and a nod of his head before turning back to scowl at the entrance of a dwarf. You bite back a smile.

Once the required guests have all arrived, Lord Elrond wastes no time getting into the topic. Arguments were made and suggestions given. All you have seen forecasted earlier that day. You give Gandalf a look of consolation as he looks at you knowingly, the dwarf and elf arguing still.

What truly shook both of you out of eachother's silent conversation was when the son of Gondor began to speak. "My people-" You knew what he'd suggest. "-Have been suffering for years while-"

"And they will continue so suffering or even worse if the ring is not destroyed." Your voice thunders through the sudden silence, confident and sure.

Boromir's eyes snaps to you, and you could almost see resentment in them. "And how would you know what would happen?"

"I see...some, parts of the future.", His eyes shone in a glint of curiosity. "No matter what route the dark lord takes, either the ring destroys men by their own hands, or his own will."

He looks away from you immediately, you hear his low whispered name for you, that sounded almost like a curse. "...Witch."

Lord Elrond sighs deeply before speaking again, directed to you. "It would be wise for you to just tell us what you see now. I can tell you're enjoying the time wasting arguments, but time, does not seem to be on our good side these days. "

You nodded your head and searched through your mind for memories you've had for this day. "I do not see much recently. The eye, has shown me multiple ways it can take what it wants. But I am sure, that the burden of the ring will lie nowhere else but to the halfling, Frodo Baggins."

Nods and glances of understanding are shared upon the circle, it seems they've predicated as much, and this was all the confirmation they needed.

"And he will not continue this journey alone, I assume?" Gandalf pushes.

You smile warmly at him. "No, sons of Gondor and the prince of Mirkwood alongside Gimli son of Gloin, will join him, for his own safety for the journey." Sam Gamgee bursts out if the bushes as if summoned, apparently upset he was not mentioned.

Elrond sighs loudly. "What part of secret meeting did no one understood."

He gives you a look of question and you look towards Sam with understanding. "Wherever he goes, you must go with him." Sam agrees with a fervent nod, serious was his express

What you didn't expect was their two friends appearing from invisible spot, desperately wanting to follow. Elrond, with his patience thinning, concluded the meeting. "It will be called the fellowship of the ring, companions of 9." His own eyes search yours for approval, as if you should be disagreeing.

"10." You corrected, watching as he relaxes.

"A witch, as helpful as she could be, would only be so burdensome in such a dangerous journey." Boromir, son of denethor the second, spoke out immediately.

You flinch at such a public insult, brows frowning together. "She is as useful as any of you men, I can assure you son of Gondor, my words, surely would be enough?" Gandalf interjects before you could argue.

He eyes you suspiciously, but less threatening than before, and relented to the grey wizard.

You were the first to be ready for the journey, Packing some well needed knives and a spare sword alongside some fruits. Your head turn to look behind you when you hear footsteps.

Boromir carries a readied bag himself, walking closer to you, he eyes yours. "Hopefully you won't be needing to use that." he jokes, nudging to your sword. You smile at him before tying it and lifting it up over your shoulders. "We all do what we have to when necessary.

His eyes slowly rises up to meet yours with an unreadable gaze. "Yes, we do."

Visions be damned, for you see nothing of this man's future. and if you'd have to to take a bet, he was talking to himself more than he was to you. The image of the ring clouding his better judgement, you're sure.

The journey began that afternoon, the first day going smoothly as you expected. You notice how the walking was starting to take effect on the hobbits, tiring faster than the taller folks.

"We should take rest. The heat is taking a toll on everyone." You spoke to Aragorn as you walk past him.

You knew he'd prefer all to continue, but gives in instead, and announces a short break to restore some well needed energy.

Sitting on the edge of cliff, you find shelter under a large lonesome tree, watching as the hobbits attempt in fighting lessons with the captain. Absolutely failing too.

"It'd be easier for a beginner to practice with a blade, or anything smaller, nothing to do with your size I assure you." You called out as you start to stand up to walk towards them.

Pippin raise a brow at you, folding his arms together. "I don't know miss, it sort of sounded like we're being pigeonholed here." Merry agrees giving you a matter-of-factly look. "He's right, were stronger than we look like."

You laughed and didn't disagree. "She's right. Though, don't think I'd have a blade to spare." Boromir says.

You immediately pull out your own and passed it to him. He gives you a suspicious look. "And just how many weapons do you carry"

"Enough, hopefully. In case of unwanted trouble." You answered. "That is if you can you use any of them." He lets the words come out easily, unaware of how insulting it sounded.

Your hand, as if on impulse, unarms both his sword and blade barehanded, while the other takes advantage of his suprised state to pull him by his arm to you before twirling him around and twisting it to his back. You slammed him then, by your knee, letting him go as he jolts forward, the sound of Merry and Pippin's laughter fills the space.

"And what would you know of things I can and cannot know to use?" You question sternly, clearly offended. Boromir, collecting his stability and shame, turns apologetic.

"That is not what I meant-"

"No, what you meant is that you can't imagine how a woman of my physique and rank would even know how to wield a sword. And I don't appreciate judgements of my character being made, Captain." Chided like a child, Boromir turns his head down in a low bow.

"You are right, I apologize, I was ignorant of my words."

When he finally looks up to you, you spare him a second glance only before walking away, Merry and Pippin almost enjoying the dramatic argument. Seeing such a brave and large fighter like Boromir being scolded into an apology was a quite amusing sight for even Aragorn.

The ranger who's heard and seen all, decided that it was time to get moving again, the odds of the journey would most likely be on their side if they kept going and got less on eachother's throats.

"Well, I'd say that's enough re energizing. We shan't wait for Gandalf to appear, hell know where to find us." Aragorn speaks, giving you a look of warning to play nice, before urging everyone to get up and ready.

The journey continued in silence, night dawning upon you and your company, sun replaced by night stars and a cloud hidden moon. The sound of Legolas and Gimli bickering behind you starts to fill the quiet.

Another argument on Dwarf history being better than elves.

Ginlis yelling was cut off by Legolas with his questions. "And you say this as someone who's visited these caves, I assume?"

The dwarf turns silent. "I didn't say-". "Aha! So you speak of nothing more than stories." Legolas challenged before the two starts to talk over eachother again.

"Perhaps you should visit the caves together, once this journey is over, how else then can you prove yourself right?" You interrupt, tilting your head back towards them with a grin.

Gimli rolls his eyes and scoffs while Legolas actually seems to consider it. "I wouldn't go anywhere with an elf." Gimli answers.

"Well you're here with me now, aren't you?" Legolas taunts. And again, the argument starts.

The weary spirits of your companies slowly lifts after that, the tiredness didn't seem much as burdensome.

And whilst you smile at your friends debates and terrible hobbit jokes, you failed to notice the on man who's smiling as well while his eyes remains on you the whole night.

[twst-kumi]

Weeping Maiden [ACT II]

[A/n : Sorry for the wait, I had some family issues.]

[ACT II] CHAPTER 4

Once she was sure Yuu was all right, [Name] had to return to Royal Sword Academy. As she was walking in the hallway, she felt soft and tender hand brushing hers. Looking up, her eyes met with Silver. He looked anxious and worried for her.

“_[Name] I’m happy we got to meet here. Are you feeling better now?”

[Name] pushed a strand behind her ears as she observed the Diasomnia student. With a polite smile, she walked next to him.

“_Yes, Yuu is better now…

_No, I mean you! I was worried since I couldn't see you ever since the apple.

_ The apple? Are you talking about Neige?”

She was confused, how could he know this? They had never met before today. Silver could see her incomprehension, and he couldn't help but smile fondly as he caressed her head.

“_I know it's difficult to believe it, but we have been meeting in a dream for a moment now. Every time we met, you would be sitting in the middle of a glade. The last time we met you were surrounded by apples and looked like you were in a dilemma.

_ Oh… yes, it's okay now.

_ Really?

_ Yes, thank you for your worries, Silver.

_ [Name], no matter what others say, it's not your fault.”

Silver smiled as he escorted her out. He couldn't deny the bond they both had between each other. Even if she seemed not to remember him. [Name] believed him, although she didn't reach chapter 7 she knew his unique magic was related to dreams thanks to Hatsuko. She remembered hearing her friends talk about each character like they were real people, not characters she and the company she worked for were designing.

Reaching RSA, she walked back to her dorm. Flora welcomed her and she excitedly talked about Yuu. Somehow, she wasn't that happy about it. What if her little princess decide to go to that school where the Draconian prince enrolled? Maleficent was anything but good and almost like it was destiny none of the dragon fairy’s descendants had any aspect of goodness.

They would corrupt someone as pure as an angel like [Name]. She refused to see that happening. She had to protect her by any means possible.

“_ I'm happy for you, but…. Are you sure he is your brother?

_ Yes, he….

_ If I remember clearly, he is supposed to be 19 years old, not 16.

_ I know but could it be due to changing world?

_Does he even have that matching pendant?

_But he said things that only Yuu could say.

_Did he say something only the two of them knew?

_ Not really, but…

_Then, what about him makes you think he is your brother? Aside from his physical appearance.”

[Name] flinched at her questions. She doesn't remember seeing the pendant on him. But maybe he lost it? Or did he decide to put it somewhere safe? Ruggie had quite a sneaky hand after all. But she was sure it was him… it had to be. Even his reaction when he saw her… he wasn't that happy… but he recognized her as his sister too.

Flora felt guilty for sewing doubt in her heart but it was for her sake.

“_ I'm your fairy godmother. I'm just trying to look out for you.”

[Name] returned to her room. She plopped down muffling her sobbing in her pillow. Her happy mood now soured at the fairy godmother’s words. She cried herself to sleep.

The next day, [Name] looked listless. She dragged her feet all the way to her class. Even when Aurelius and Alexis called her out, she was barely responding. The two boys looked worried at her.

“_Is something bothering you my lady?

_ You know you know you can tell us anything, Princess.”

The young girl looked at her friends with a gentle smile. It was kind of them to worry for her.

“_It’s… just that I found my brother… but… Flora pointed out how strange it was. My brother is 3 years older, but he… that boy has the same age as me.

_Is there any way that could prove his identity? Aside from the DNA test I mean…

_My necklace… he wear a matching one with my picture inside… but he didn't have it…

_Then he isn't your -!”

Before he could say anything, Heric came running to them. He had a big smile on his face.

“_Hey [Name], I wanted to give you something yesterday. But with everything that happened I completely forgot.”

The buffed boy said before giving her a small jewelry box. Opening the box, she tensed. Inside the intricate locket, there was her picture. Forget about proving his identity, it was all she needed.

“_Thank you, Heric. It means the world to me.”

The boys shuddered at her sweet tones. If she wasn't magicless it would be the perfect moment to worry that she would overblot. They could tell that she was angry, seething with rage even.

“_Are you angry?

_No just appalled by how people can be careless with others' gifts.”

At least she wasn't depressed anymore. They didn't want to be in Yuu’s place when she would come to him like one of the four apocalypse. It was understanding, it was a gift she designed herself with great care. It looked kind of tacky but it was still important.

[Name] silently took her phone and sent a text to Vil asking him if he didn't mind organizing an outing for her and Yuu. She didn't have his number after all. She smiled ominously when the actor accepted

<previous next>

Tag:

@cocomollo @owodi @illytian @mmysticc-ev0let @oreolover1

[lady-pug]

in the morning (when the day is new)

Chapter II of Wouldn't It Be Nice

Summary: You sustain a head injury while on a mission but Whiskey isn’t fast enough to administer the alpha gel, so your memories of your time at Statesman don’t come back. Instead, you only remember up until the day before you were recruited and your memory ends up being reset every night. Jack makes it his mission to make you fall in love with him everyday (50 First Dates AU)

Pairing: Jack Daniels | Agent Whiskey x Reader

Word count: 3,5k

Warnings: memory loss

Notes: Yay, chapter two is up! And I’m already working on chapter three (I’ll try to have it out as quickly as I can)! I hope you, my dear reader, enjoy this chapter; I had a lot of fun writing it!

Next part | Previous part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

He stuttered, his breath hitching.

“What?”

He couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe, something as simple as inhaling was too complex of a task at that moment.

“Jack…”

He finally acknowledged Ginger, who was looking at him with something akin to pity in her eyes.

“What happened?”

She grabbed his elbow and practically had to drag him away into a corner.

“What happened, Liz?” he started rambling “Ain’t she supposed to remember by now? Haven’t you shown her that picture of her parents? Why ain’t she-”

“Jack, hey, listen” she interrupted “I don’t know what happened. She woke up, with no recollection of me, like usual. But when I showed her the picture… nothing. She only said she missed them, that’s all. She doesn’t remember you nor me!” she was frustrated, Jack could tell. It was understandable, you were her best friend after all.

“Uhm, excuse me?” you called, still sitting confusedly on the bed “Am I clear to go? Or is there anything else you’d like to do? Any other exams?"

They both turned to you, hesitantly.

“It’s just that I have a job interview today.” you explained, a hesitant although excited smile taking over your features.

“A job interview?” Ginger took a step forward “Where?”

“It’s a-” you hesitated, your smile faltering for only a split second before you recovered “a distillery. Statesman.”

Jack and Liz shared a look. 

“It’s the day we met.” Jack mumbled “Her memories were reset to the day we met.”

“What are you talking about, Whiskey?”

“At the bar out front.” he started rambling, explaining his thought process to Ginger “She, uh, she was upset, thought the interview and trials were no good to actually get her the job. I-I offered to buy her a drink ‘for luck’. But I already knew she was in.”

Ginger smiled at the fond, if not a little desperate, way Jack talked about the memory.

“Please, Elizabeth, I’m begging you” he grabbed her hands, fighting the stinging ache in his eyes “help her remember. She has to remember-” he paused for a brief second, not wanting to disclose too much of his feelings, the ones he was still coming to terms with himself “-us. Help her remember us.”

Ginger smiled sadly at him.

“I’ll do my very best to help her remember you, Jack.”

Jack was taken aback for a moment, but he should have known she could read him like an open book. Ginger was a smart woman.

“Thank you.” he smiled back.

She turned back to you.

“Do you remember anything that happened?”

You shook your head.

“I went to sleep last night, and then… I woke up here.” you looked around “Where am I exactly?”

“A hospital. You were in a car accident.” Ginger creatively came up with that as she went.

“Oh god, did anyone get hurt?” Jack couldn’t help but smile, the way you cared for others more than you did for yourself shining through even if you had lost part of your memories.

“You did, dear.” Ginger continued carefully “You hit your head pretty hard. I want to run a few more exams just to make sure you’re okay. It’s best if you stay the night.”

“But my interview-” you started to protest.

“I have a friend who works at Statesman.” not being able to stand the sight of you in distress, Jack intervened “I’ll give him a call, explain the situation and ask ‘em to reschedule.”

Your radiant smile warmed his heart.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Ginger walked back towards Jack.

“She seems to be suffering from a strange case of anterograde amnesia: she can remember things before her time at the agency, but not after. I’ll monitor her and see if she gets any better.”

“Okay.” he nodded, absentmindedly.

Walking out of the lab, Ginger stopped him before he could get too far.

“You should try and get some rest. I don’t know how long it’s going to take for her to regain her memories.”

“Of course.” he nodded, a bit disorientated when thinking about what he should do now “Let me know if anything changes, will you?”

She nodded and he started walking away, his mind clouded and his heart heavy. 

The moonlight was shining down on your skin. He barely registered the uncomfortable feeling of sand seeping in between his sprawled fingers, all he could focus on was the steady rise and fall of your chest laying next to him.

“I can feel you staring, cowboy.”

Jumping in surprise, he looked at how your now open eyes were staring at him from under hooded eyelids, a small smile playing on your lips.

“What are you thinking about?”

He shrugged.

“Just can’t wrap my head ‘round how dazzling you look, sweetheart.”

You snorted, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“You’re so corny, Jack.”

“What? S’true!”

Your laughter was radiant enough to light up an entire room, he thought. Maybe he was corny afterall.

Still laying on the sand, you squirmed on your back and wormed your way next to him, perpendicular to his legs, and settled with your head on his lap. He admired your face, eyes closed again, a peaceful look taking over your features.

“What would you be doing if you weren’t an agent?”

The question startled him slightly. What would he be doing if he wasn’t an agent? He took a moment to ponder. Remembering the life he could have had if only those addicts hadn’t decided to rob the very same store his wife was at was too painful. You were one of the few people he felt comfortable enough to talk about her and his baby boy nowadays. He wished you two could have met, he had a feeling you’d have been great friends.

“I think I’d like to be a teacher.”

Your eyes snapped open, a mischievous smile.

“Mr. Daniels, huh?” you smirked “What subject would you teach?”

“Math.” you giggled in disbelief “I mean it! I can solve some killer algebra equations.” you laughed even more, some tears visibly gathering in the corner of your eyes “But if I’m being honest, I’d rather it be kindergarten.”

Your face softened. Smiling at him you nodded your chin for him to continue.

“I love kids. Especially that age, when they’re discovering the world. The faces they make when they find something new and exciting. I’d love to be able to help in that process.”

The look on your face, the pure adoration he could see in your eyes, was enough to bring heat to his face.

“What about you?” he changed the subject “Got any ideas?”

You smiled shyly, averting your eyes.

“With the answer you just gave, mine is going to sound very lame.”

“S’not. I promise.”

Looking back at him, you grin turned mischievous once again.

“When I was a kid I wanted to be a vet, or a biologist, just so I could work at an aquarium.”

“An aquarium?” he asked in amusement.

“Yeah. I really wanted to work with walrus and otters. They are really cute!”

Jack laughed, amused with your thought process as a kid.

“Walrus? Cute?”

“Have you ever seen a walrus?”

“I have” he answered “and all they remind me of is Champ.”

You burst out laughing, nodding your head in agreement. He laughed so hard at your own laughter he almost cried. Once you calmed down, you sat up and turned to look at him, a new glint in your eyes.

“Do you ever think about getting back out there?”

“Out there?” he was confused.

“To dating.”

Thinking about it for a moment, he contemplated his answer.

“Maybe. If the right woman comes along.”

The look in your eyes held something mysterious, something he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

Just as he was about to ask you the same thing, something stopped him. A beeping of some kind.

“What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” you replied, but your voice sounded very far away.

“That!” he turned back to you, but you weren’t there “Sweetheart?”

He jolted awake, abruptly pulled from the depths of his consciousness. Sighing, he gripped the bridge of his nose, fighting off the tears that were slowly welling up in his eyes, their stinging a painful reminder of what was going on in his life at the moment. What wouldn’t he give to go back to sleep, back to that dream? It was a nice dream, most of it a fond memory he kept close to his heart. It was late at night after a rough mission in Hawaii a few months back, none of you were in condition to jump on a plane and go back to Kentucky, so Champ extended your stay in the hotel by the beach for one more night. Restless from the adrenaline that was still pumping in your veins, you both decided to take a midnight dive in the ocean, which led to a quiet moment watching the stars and talking about life. He wished he could go back to then, when things were easier.

A beeping noise startled him, almost making him jump out of his skin. It was the same sound he heard at the end of his dream. Stumbling around his room, he finally found his phone, which had a bunch of messages from Ginger. Dialing her number, he suppressed a yawn, jumping into professional mode.

“Whiskey.”

“Jack, you might want to come down here, as soon as possible.” Ginger’s voice sounded slightly strained. 

“What happened?” he was dressed and out the door in the blink of an eye.

“Just… get down here.” and with that she hung up.

Almost bumping into several other agents minding their business, Jack quickly got down to Ginger’s lab. The woman in question was waiting for him outside the door.

“Ginger, what happened?”

“I think it’s better if you see it for yourself.”

She led him inside, where he found you, still sitting on the same bed, now wearing a hospital gown.

“Hey!” you greeted them. You eyed him, a confused look crossing your face before you addressed Ginger “Who is this?”

Jack turned to Ginger, confused, but she was already looking at him with a sad smile.

“We met yesterday, remember?”

Shaking your head, you squinted your eyes as if making an effort to try and remember.

“Hmm, no. I think I’d remember meeting you.” 

“What do you remember from yesterday?” Ginger spoke up.

“I went to bed last night and then… then I woke up here” you looked around and Jack felt like he was having a deja vu “Where am I exactly?”

“She woke up and she didn’t remember me, nor where she was.” Ginger turned to him, speaking under her breath.

“Can I go now? I have a job interview today!” you spoke, excitedly.

“Her memories were reset overnight?” Jack spoke, his stomach churning with worry.

“Seems like it.”

“But how?”

The woman before him sighed, and for a brief moment she looked like she had aged ten years in just a day. Walking out of your earshot, outside of the lab, she started explaining.

“Whatever happened seems to have affected her brain’s ability to turn short term memories into long term ones. Sleep seems to be the trigger for the reseting.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“I can keep her here for a few more days, run a few more tests.”

“Yeah, more tests sound good.” he nodded, slightly disoriented by all the new information Ginger had just dumped on him.

“But Jack.” he hummed in acknowledgment “I don’t think you should keep coming to see her.”

His head snapped back towards her, eyes wide and furious.

“Why not?!” he asked, probably more harshly than he intended.

“I can see this is taking a toll on you. Seeing her like this I mean.”

“But I can’t not see her! That ain’t right! She- Liz, I-I can’t not know, I-” he stumbled over his words, worry and anger at the whole situation threatening to overflow him “She’s one of my best friends. I need to know she’s okay.”

Ginger sighed heavily, having noticed the redness and the glossy shine that had overtaken the man’s eyes.

“You love her, don’t you?” she spoke softly, almost whispering.

His rambling came to a halt, eyes widening as if she had slapped him in the face. He looked away for a moment and gulped, like even thinking about those words physically hurt him.

“Yeah,” he looked back at Ginger “I do love her.” 

“Then let me do my job.”

“I just-” he choked on a sob he was trying to supress “I can’t lose her. Not like this. Not again.”

“You won’t.”

“How can you know that?!” he snapped, practically shouting at her.

Her eyes hardened.

“Because I’m the one looking after her. And I’m really good at what I do.”

He deflated.

“I-I’m sorry, Liz. I’m sorry.”

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her eyes softening.

“It’s alright, Jack. I know how much she means to you.” she said “That’s why you should stay away for a while. I’ll keep you updated.”

“You can’t just expect me to sit around and do nothing, Ging.”

“I don’t. Can you go to her quarters, bring me anything you think might be useful in bringing her memories back?” she asked. “Trinkets, clothes, pictures, anything.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Do you ever think about getting back out there?”

“Out there?” he was confused.

“To dating.”

Thinking about it for a moment, he contemplated his answer.

“Maybe. If the right woman comes along.”

The look in your eyes held something mysterious, something he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

“And has she?”

“Has who what?”

There was something cheeky, almost bold in your smile.

“The right woman.” your smile only grew, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “Has she come along?”

His eyes widened, almost the size of dinner plates. You were trying to kill him, he was sure. How could he answer that, without making things awkward for the both of you? He could always lie to save face, but he knew you could read him like an open book and would see right through his lies. Clearing his throat, he thought for a minute or so, before deciding to be honest.

“I guess she might have.”

Your grin turned into a soft smile. Placing a hand on his knee, you turned your body fully in his direction.

“Yeah?”

The glimmer in your eyes cast by the moon did something to him. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. With a crooked index finger under your chin, he tilted your head up, your faces only millimeters from each other. 

“I think she is closer than I imagine.”

And then he was kissing you. Closing the gap, he placed his chapped lips on your soft ones in a sweet, almost chaste kiss. It felt a lot better than he ever expected, it even felt kinda… magical. As you pulled back he realized you were smiling at him, your hand running down his cheek and cupping his jaw.

“I certainly hope so.” you said with a dreamy expression before climbing into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. You dived in for another kiss, your hands sliding from his jaw to the base of his neck, gripping his hair. The kiss was a lot more passionate this time. His own hands moved accordingly, the one gripping your chin sliding up to cup your jaw and the other resting on your hip.

“I just want to stay here and kiss you.” you whispered against his lips, barely pulling away “Again. And again, and again” between each sentence you pressed a peck to his lips “And again. And again, until you’ve decided you’ve had enough of me.”

“Not gonna happen, sweetheart.” he said, before kissing you again.

There was a soft beam of sunlight streaming through the drapes as his eyes opened against his will. That bit of the dream was new, nowhere near part of his memories. He should have kissed you, like in the dream, he now knows he should have. Instead he had cracked some half-assed joke and walked back to his hotel room. Retreating like a coward, he scolded himself for hours later as he laid awake in his bed. A part of him longed to go back to that night and make things right.

A glance at his phone let him know Champ was requesting an all-agents meeting first thing that morning, which made him sigh. It was going to be a long day.

The past three days had been torture for Jack. Ginger ran all the tests she could think of and yet you didn’t seem to be making any improvement. Everynight your memories were reset back to the day you met. He was getting more frustrated by the hour but there was nothing he could do.

Dragging his feet into the conference room, he noticed all other agents were already there, Champ at the head of the table, Ginger standing silently next to him.

“Good. Now that everyone’s here we can start.” Champagne said “Ginger, if you will.”

Ginger took a step forward.

“As you may know, Agent Cider has been compromised in action.” Jack swallowed harshly, still not totally rid of the guilt “After taking too long to administer the alpha gel, her memories of her time as a Statesman agent haven’t returned. What’s worse, since then her brain has suffered some kind of extensive damage to the point where her memories are reset every night. Meaning she believes she’s always going through the same day.”

A hand quickly shot up in the air.

“Like ‘Groundhog Day’?” asked Lemonade, a junior agent who usually compensated for lack of knowledge and experience with enthusiasm.

“Something like that, yes. Except she isn’t aware she has already gone through that day.” Ginger resumed her explanation “The day her memories are stuck on is the day of her Statesman interview and trials.”

“Why are you telling us all of this?” Vermouth asked in that arrogant tone both you and Jack both detested.

“We are going to send her back home.”

Jack stood up so fast his chair almost scraped against the carpet.

“What? Why?” he almost yelled, barely managing to contain his fury and confusion “You can’t just give up on her!”

“Sit down, Agent Whiskey.” Champ’s stern voice left no room for argument, so Jack complied.

“We aren’t giving up on her. According to her, and to the records we managed to recover, she is supposed to come here in the afternoon to be interviewed. Instead of the physical trials soon-to-be agents are usually put through I’ll run exams to see her daily improvement. I’ll also send word to our sister branch in England and see if they can help us.”

“Where do we come in?” Tequila intervened.

“Whatever agent that is on base is to conduct Cider’s interview, everyday until she gets better.” Champ's booming voice explained “Y’all went through that interview already, you should know which questions to ask. Then you are to take her to Ginger’s lab so she can do her sciency shit. And by whoever’s on base I mean whoever’s here” he emphasized, looking sharply at Vermouth, who was rolling his eyes “except for Whiskey.”

Jack’s eyes widened.

“Why?”

“Because Ginger and I believe you’re already too involved and it’s not good for you. Take a step back and rest for a while, son.”

Whiskey went to protest, but Champ’s hardened yet kind eyes stopped him.

“Cider’s first interview is today.” the boss said after a moment “Y’all are dismissed.”

Sighing, Jack opened the door that led to the bar that was kept in the grounds of the distillery. He sat down at the bar signaling the bartender, an old friend of his.

“Whiskey, neat.”

The bartender narrowed her eyes.

“Are you sure, chief? It’s barely dusk.”

“Just keep ‘em coming.” 

She only shrugged, it wasn’t her problem really, so long as he didn’t start a ruckus or something.

With a long, defeated sigh, Jack laid his head on his arms on top of the counter, hiding his face from the world. His day had been shitty to say the least. First he got the news that Ginger was going to let you go, your memories having yet to return. Then he was notified he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore, that literally every other agent was going to interact with you and help except for your own partner. Except for him. He felt useless. Useless and helpless.

Once the bartender placed his glass in front of him with a soft thud, he raised his head, ready to down the entire drink in one gulp in order to drown his sorrows when something caught his eye across the bar. Nursing a drink and looking just as defeated as he felt, but at the same time just as beautiful as that first time (if not more) was someone he was beginning to lose hope in seeing anytime soon.

You.

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 1: THE VANISHING OF WILL BYERS

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This was my favourite part to write. I love Diana and Lucas scenes.

Word Count: 2917

Masterlist

PROLOGUE || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

SINCLAIR RESIDENCE

Barb drops me home after school. I decide to study for Kaminsky’s test on my own. If I need help, I’ll call Barb. I open my front door, slipping my loafers off my feet. 

“Mom? Dad? I’m home!” I call out, closing the front door behind me. 

I take off my coat, hanging it on the coat hanger and pad down the foyer pass the sitting room towards the living room. Our home is open concept painted in muted colours of white and beige. On the light grey couch Erica is sitting watching television while playing with her dolls. 

“Hey monster,” I greet, kissing the top of her head. “Where’s mom and dad?” 

“They went to the supermarket; said they’ll be back in an hour.” She replies, looking at her dolls. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Nancy’s?” 

“Change of plans.” 

“Is it because of Will?” 

I frown shaking my head. “No, why would it be?

“I overheard mom talking to Miss Byers on the phone. Miss Byers says Will is missing.” 

I flinch, my heart plummeting to my stomach. I grip the back of the couch. “What?” I exclaim. “Didn’t the boys all leave Mike’s at the same time?”

Erica shrugs. “I don’t know.” 

“Where’s Lucas?” 

 “In his room.” 

I run up the stairs to his room finding the door closed. My heart flutters in my chest. A closed door is a bad sign. Lucas rarely kept his door closed. I gently knock.

“I said leave me alone, Erica!” Lucas snaps. 

 “It’s me,” I say, calmly. “Can I come in?” 

Lucas doesn’t respond.  A sudden stab of anxiety is in my gut and I rock back and forth on my feet. I understand Lucas not wanting to talk to Erica. She was eight and annoyed him to no end, but me? I can’t wait any longer and raise my hand to knock again when I hear the faintest ‘yes’ from the other side. I sigh in relief, scared of Lucas shutting me out and open the door. 

I poke my head in first, just to make sure I heard him properly. Lucas lay on his bed staring blankly up at the ceiling. He doesn’t flinch or twitch at my presence so I open the door wider, letting myself in before closing it shut behind me. Lucas kept a clean room. All of us did, not like we had much of a choice. Dad was serving in the Vietnam War when he met Mom and brought with him all his military training and customs when they decided to marry and raise a family together. I gradually extend my leg tendu devant, looking at the arch in my foot before relaxing it. 

For the first time ever, the room feels cold. Lucas still hasn’t moved from his bed or even acknowledged me and it worries me. I stroll to the bed, climbing on top and lie down beside him staring up at the ceiling. Even lying beside my little brother, I feel like I am miles away from him. I don’t know what to say. I never understood how Nancy and Mike could go hours without talking to each other in their house. It was like they lived separate lives. Not here. I want to be a part of Lucas and Erica’s lives. I want both of them to know they can talk to me about anything. I’ll always listen even if I don’t understand. 

I turn my head, gazing at Lucas. When I was three years old, I asked Santa for a little brother. Then Mom got pregnant with Lucas and I never stopped talking about it. I told anyone who would listen. Santa got me a little brother. When Mom and Dad brought Lucas home from the hospital, it was love at first sight. I knew from that moment on, I would do anything for him. Sometimes I think about Lucas and Erica growing up and get emotional. They were once so small and followed me everywhere. Now, they don’t care what I do. I miss the times when Mom would dress us three alike. It was ridiculous because I am four years older than Lucas and eight years older than Erica. I don��t know how Mom managed to get matching outfits in threes. I should ask her tonight at dinner. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lucas asks. 

“Because I love you,” I reply without thinking. 

“You’re freaking me out.” 

I smile, turning my head back to the ceiling. The room feels warm again, but my smile fades. I have to ask the one question a person did not want to be asked when something was clearly wrong. 

“Are you okay?” 

Lucas doesn’t respond right away. I push down the panic bubbling in my chest and rely heavily on patience. A few minutes pass before he shrugs his shoulders. I try again. 

“Erica told me about Will. Do you want to talk about it?” 

No answer again. My stomach shrivels and panic rises in my chest. I push myself up to sit leaning back against a pillow and cross my legs. On instinct, I point my toes. 

“Can you please talk to me?” 

Lucas closes his eyes and I let out a deep sigh accepting defeat. I desperately want to know what he is thinking and feeling, but maybe now isn’t the time. I shuffle to the edge of the bed. 

“Will didn’t show up to school today.” 

My heart leaps in my chest and I look back at Lucas. His eyes are open again but he is still looking up at the ceiling. I lean back on the pillow, not daring to say another word. Lucas wants me to listen, not talk. 

“I thought he would show at for AV club at least. Mr. Clarke got the Heath Kit Ham Shack I’ve been telling you about,” he sits up leaning against the other pillow, tucking his knees close to his chest. “It’s so cool. Mr. Clarke says we can communicate with people as far as Australia.” He gushes with a faint smile. My heart warms at the joy in his dark brown eyes. “Me, Mike, and Dustin were using the Heath Kit, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Will and what he would think about it, y’know?” 

“Then Principal Coleman came and asked to speak to all of us. Chief Hopper was outside the classroom looking at us and I knew it had to be about Will. We follow Principal Coleman to his office and then Chief Hopper starts asking us a bunch of questions about Will, but we haven’t seen him since last night.” 

“Questions like what?” I ask. Lucas looks at me for the first time since entering his room. 

“Like, when was the last time we saw him? How does he get home? We were all trying to explain to Chief Hopper that Will takes Mirkwood to go home.” 

I tilt my head to the side inquisitively. 

“It’s where Cornwallis and Kerley meet.” Lucas explains. “We could’ve shown him but he told us to go home after school. He won’t even let us help him look for Will!”

“You are helping Chief Hopper find will, Lucas. If you boys didn’t tell him how Will gets home, he wouldn’t have known where to look.”

Lucas disagrees with my reasoning, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. 

“No one in town even knows Will exists. Only we do.” Lucas spoke, expression full of disdain. “We know Will more than anyone here. It’s not fair for us to be stuck at home when he’s missing!” 

“I understand, but we don’t know what happened to Will. If he’s been kidnapped or if the person who took him is still out there. What if you go out there and something happens to you too?” 

“I have my wrist-rocket.” Lucas says matter-of-factly. 

My eyebrows go up at his response and I press my lips together to keep from laughing out loud. I know he isn’t kidding about the wrist-rocket and that’s what makes his answer so cute and endearing. I remember when Dad bought it for him and how against Mom was about it saying it was too dangerous for Lucas to have. Dad says the wrist-rocket is harmless, but I’ve seen Lucas practice with the sling-shot and it was far from harmless. 

“What’s so funny?” Lucas asks, squinting his eyes suspiciously. 

“Nothing is funny.” I reply, grinning as I slide down until my head touches the pillow. 

Lucas plops backwards onto the pillow with a ‘hmph’. I roll to my side facing him, knowing he was ignoring my stare again. Reaching out my hand, I poke his cheek with my finger. A faint smile appears on his pink lips and he rolls to his side, batting my hand away. I can see the sadness beneath his kind eyes and it makes my heart ache for him.  I know how much Will means to my brother and the boys. They were a unit. A family. I would be frustrated too if Nancy or Barbara went missing and I wasn’t allowed to help look for them. But I’m turning 16 and Lucas just turned 12. The risk of him endangering himself out there is far too great. 

Lucas shuffles closer, resting his forehead under my chin. On instinct, I wrap my arms around his back holding him close, drawing circles against his back. I close my eyes breathing in his scent. He smells of the outdoors and coconut oil. His shoulders relax beneath my fingers. Lucas would die if the boys knew he loves to cuddle. It’s something we did together often. On the couch, in our beds, on the floor. Sometimes Erica joins when she’s in the mood, but that was rare. We are quiet for a long moment enjoying each other’s company. 

“I think it’s best you stay inside and let Chief Hopper look for Will, okay?” I speak. “Wrist-rocket or not.” 

 Lucas sighs. “Okay.” 

 “We’re going to find Will. I promise.” 

Lucas doesn’t respond, instead he nuzzles against me. I peer over his shoulder at the window. I think about Jonathan and Miss Byers and can’t fathom to know how they must be feeling right now. Nothing ever happens in Hawkins. It’s a quiet suburban town outside the metropolis. People don’t go missing in Hawkins. Most of the town knew each other growing up or grew up together. It’s why Dad loves it here so much. Hawkins is safe. Peaceful. Unassuming. Everyone’s day starts and ends the same way every day. The disappearance of Will Byers frightens me for that reason. It doesn’t make sense for him to vanish on a route he took every day and if someone knew this and took Will…I shudder, pulling Lucas close. I can’t bear to think of someone doing that and hope Chief Hopper finds Will soon. 

Dinner was quiet tonight. No one brought up Will’s disappearance for the sake of Lucas, but it weighed down on all of us. Lucas went straight to his room closing the door behind him. 

“Give him space.” Dad said, looking down at Mom who looked like she was about to follow after him. 

That was over three hours ago. 

Heavy rain rattles the window and thunder booms and cracks in the sky. I rub my tired eyes reading through my cue cards. I made at least 50 cards to study from, each colour-coded according to chapter. I softly hum a sequence from the Swan Lake tape playing from my boom box and I glance at the clock at the corner of my night table. 10:13pm. I sit up in my bed twisting my body to the side to crack my back and slipped out of bed. 

Dad went to look for Will with the search party Chief Hopper gathered and came back about an hour ago. There was still no sign of him. I bend forward touching my hands to the floor and stretch out my hamstrings. Stretching calms me down. My anxiety is through the roof. The Nutcracker showcase, Kaminsky’s test, Will’s disappearance, and the emotional state of my brother, it all played out in a loop in my head. I lower to the floor and sit in a side straddle. While flexing my feet, I lie down on my stomach in a middle split and close my eyes. 

I breathe deeply, allowing my body to relax into the stretch. Despite everything being scrambled up in my brain, the one thought at the forefront is my brother. I feel for him. I feel with him. When we spoke in the afternoon, I saw the way his eyes lit up and how excited he was to see the Heath Kit Ham Shack. The way he immediately thought of Will…I open my eyes and sigh, swimming through the split until my feet are behind me. I know Dad said to give Lucas space and I honour his space, but that was three hours ago. I need to check on him. 

Mine and Erica’s rooms are across from Mom, Dad and Lucas’s rooms. I slowly open my door careful not to be loud. Mom and Dad are in their room watching the news in their room. I saunter across the hall to Lucas’s room and softly knock, waiting to be let in. Nothing. Maybe he’s sleeping. I turn the knob, carefully opening his door. The lights were off except for the bedside lamp. I frown at the lump under the covers. It’s too smooth. Lucas is a terrible sleeper; his bedsheet would’ve been halfway off his bed if he were really asleep. 

Unless.

No. He wouldn’t. Lucas is too smart to leave home at this night, especially in the middle of a storm. Checking to see if anyone was around, I tiptoe to his bed and peel off the covers. I freeze staring at the pillow posing as my brother. I want to scream. I want to call Mom and Dad. Instead, I count down from five in my head, willing my mind and body to relax and I pull the covers back over the pillow.   

This is so stupid, even for him. I am in the mudroom by the garage wearing a bright yellow raincoat, slipping on a pair of red rainboots. The moon shines bright, illuminating this side of the house. I stand up reaching for a long umbrella in the umbrella stand and a flashlight on the shelf. Lucas is just in the front yard, playing soccer. I lie to myself. I know I should get Mom and Dad, but with Will disappearing, I don’t want another unfortunate spectacle to happen in Hawkins. 

My senses heighten as I hear shuffling in the garage and I stand still in case my mind is playing tricks on me. The door to the mudroom opens and Lucas slowly enters, closing the door carefully behind him. Without thinking, I march towards him. 

“Lucas!” I whisper loudly. 

Lucas jumps in a startle and I cover his mouth before he has a chance to scream. Waking up the entire house is not part of my plan. Lucas’s eyes are wide and fearful. Upon realizing it’s only me, he sighs in relief. I remove my hand from his mouth pulling my hood off my head at the same time. I am so overcome with anger and relief; I don’t know whether to hug or hit him. 

“Were you outside this whole time?” I hiss, quietly. I don’t give him the chance to answer. “Where were you, Lucas? Please, please tell me you didn’t go out to look for Will on your own.” 

“I didn’t. I swear. I was with Dustin and Mike.” 

“Like that’s any better.” I retort. “You have got to be kidding me! Chief Hopper had a search party out looking for Will tonight, Lucas. dad went!” 

“We can’t just stay here and do nothing. We had to look for him ourselves. Will protected the Party from the Demogorgon, we had to at least try to find him.” 

I shake my head trying to make sense of what he just said. Demogorgon? I don’t know what he’s talking about. 

“What are you even saying right now? Do you know what time it is?” I don’t give him time to answer again. “You’re lucky it’s me and not mom and dad or worse Erica finding you.”

“I know.” 

I put my hands on his damp shoulders. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

“I won’t.” 

I sigh in relief, unbuttoning my raincoat. At least I don’t have to go outside in the rain. Lucas shrugs off his backpack and unzips his jacket, hanging it on the hanger. He then takes off his muddy running shoes, hiding them and picks up his backpack. By then, I am already in my pyjamas. 

“Diana?” Lucas says. I turn around. “Are you going to tell mom and dad?” he asks, eyes wary. 

 “No.” 

I know I should. But I won’t. Lucas is back in the house safe and sound. Mom and Dad don’t need to know what happened tonight. Lucas hugs me and I cringe, scrunching my nose. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Ew, you’re cold and wet.” I grimace. “You need to take a shower before you get sick.” 

Lucas laughs quietly and I can’t help my smile. Eventually I hug him back kissing the top of his head. He’s safe and sound. That’s all that matters.

CHAPTER 2: THE WEIRDO ON MAPLE STREET

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; I'M DOING IT AGAIN BABY! by girl in red (Part II)

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

Nothin' ever felt like the moment I met her.

What if I didn't go out that night?

What could have been?

Can you feel the chemical reaction?

You triggered my desire and attraction.

Everything in me wants this to happen.

Maybe we should just get goin'.

This is our window to be alone.

I wonder why sometimes you just know.

I don't believe things are meant to be.

You and I are like stars aligned.

It could only lead to one thing tonight.

So alluring by the bar, with those eyes and that charm.

You're the only thing I had on my mind.

I met the rest of my life.

Let's get outta here.

I've never been so light on my feet.

She had me wrapped around her finger.

I knew I had to have her.

She was everything I've seen in my dreams.

It was a night to remember.

PICK ME

Pick me over him.

Let the loser win.

I have so many things I wanna say, but don't know how to communicate.

I'm always waitin' for you to say my insecurities drove you away.

I'm worried about it.

Of course I'm embarrassed.

I'm hiding the madness.

I'm hiding it all from you.

Yeah, how could I ever be true?

There's no amount of validation that would make this go away.

You're leaving with him?

I guess he's got something I can't give.

I might be falling apart.

I think you know I havе been from the start.

Where have you been?

Can't stop my mind and the way that it spins.

There's no reason for me to be acting up the way that I am.

Jealousy has gotten to me again.

It doesn't make any sense.

UGLY SIDE

I'm not my best today.

I'd be lying if I said it's probably a phase.

I was born with a case of imperfections and a whole lot of mental disarray,

I need to know why I'm Jekyll and Hyde,

I need to know why I have these ugly sides.

I get despicable for sure.

Does that make me unlovable?

I feel it creeping up on me when I'm not watching.

If I could make them all go quiet, that'd be something.

I'm likely doing it all wrong.

If I don't get it my way, next thing you know, the storm is on.

I need to know why I'm boiling inside.

I am the worst of me sometimes.

I can be cute and loveable.

I think I allow myself to be rude and mean to the people I love the most and the people I love the most are the ones who get the worst of me.

I don't like that, why is it like that?

NEW LOVE

I don't wanna know about your new love.

Quitting you was harder than I ever thought it'd be.

I've been in denial, but now it's hitting me.

Nothing makes more sense than to be in your arms again.

Some things never end.

Will I learn to love again?

Something 'bout it makes me want to chop my own ears off

Do you really think I can't tell you're not yourself when she's there?

How am I supposed to believe you're head over heels for someone like her?

You break and bend my heart because you can.

★★★★★

Six out of six, is it a miss?

Five-star rating and I'm writing a hit.

You gotta be delusional to be in the biz..

Lookin' for a stranger with a story to tell

I'm readin' up on history.

The fact to me is I do amazingly bad.

I make magnificent trash.

It's evеrything I have.

Can I do it again?

I said I would do it again.

[astasource]

HADESTOWN. ( 2 / ? ) roleplay starters of anaïs mitchell's hadestown. feel free to edit according to scenario / pronouns.

LIVIN' IT UP ON TOP.

on the road to hell, there was a lot of waiting.

she's never early, always late.

these days she never stays for long.

good things come to those who wait.

i'm an outdoor girl.

are you wondering where i've been?

brother, when you're down, you're down.

when you're up, you're up.

let's not talk about hard times.

pour the wine, it's summertime!

right now we're livin' it.

who makes the summer sun shine bright?

who's doing the best she can?

let me tell you something that my mama said to me.

you take what you can get, and you make the most of it.

who says times are hard?

brother, pass that bottle around.

to the patroness of all of this, [ name ]!

ALL I'VE EVER KNOWN.

i was alone so long, i didn't even know that i was lonely.

out in the cold so long, i didn’t even know that i was cold.

this is how it's always been.

all i've ever known is how to hold my own.

now i wanna hold you, too.

for a moment i forget just how dark and cold it gets.

i don't wanna ever have to let you go.

i don't wanna go back to the lonely life.

i knew you before we met and i don’t even know you yet.

all i know is you’re someone i have always known.

say that you’ll hold me forever.

say that we'll stay with each other and it will always be like this.

WAY DOWN HADESTOWN.

that was not six months!

better go and get your suitcase packed.

guess it's time to go.

did you ever wonder what it's like on the underside?

but those who go they don’t come back.

down there, it's a bunch of stiffs.

brother, i'll be bored to death.

gonna have to import some stuff just to entertain myself.

takes a lot of medicine to make it through the wintertime.

where do you think they come from?

an eye for an eye!

you're early.

i missed you.

A GATHERING STORM.

he came too soon.

he came for her too soon.

it's not supposed to be like this.

this is how it is.

hey, where are you going?

touched by the gods is what he was.

i have to finish the song.

finish it quick!

the wind is changing.

there's a storm coming on.

we need food.

we need firewood.

did you hear me? [ name ]?

EPIC II.

his loneliness moves in him, crude and black.

he thinks of his wife in the arms of the sun and jealousy fuels him and feeds him.

with a million hands, he builds a wall.

[hbosucc]

Greg Hirsch x Reader: Chapter 8

Link to previous chapter (18+ only, minors dni!) here.

This chapter is kind of part two to the previous one; it picks up right after the last one ended.

Content Warnings, same as always:

Sexual Content (only mentioned in this chapter, no explicit scenes, but it's still an 18+ chapter)

Swearing

Alcohol consumption

Mention of drug use

Maybe fluff towards the end??

That's all! I'm having a really weird, difficult time irl right now, and posting these is something fun to look forward to. So, if you're reading, thank you:) xoxoxo

Chapter 8: Meeting the Fam, Part II

Back in the main room, I craned my head to look for Greg. I spotted him at the bar and had to stop myself from breaking into a run. He glanced up and met my eyes as I approached him, his smile disappearing as he saw the traces of unease I hadn’t been able to wipe from my face.

“Hey, are you okay? I just saw your text.” He asked, taking my hand as I reached him.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine.” I gave my best attempt at a smile, looking over my shoulder, then back up at him.

“Are you sure? I was looking for you for, like, a while.” He looked concerned, which almost made me start crying again.

“I’m sure.” I squeezed his hand. “What did Kendall want?”

“Just, like, family drama, which is also work drama, like usual.” Greg sighed. “They really can’t chill out, even for one night.”

“God, that sucks.” I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Greg lowered his voice. “You’re kind of…I don’t know, something feels different?”

“I’m…” I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked up at him. “I just did coke, Greg.”

“Oh, oh.” Greg’s eyebrows went up. “Okay, gotcha. No, that makes sense. Um.”

“I know.” I nodded. “There was this really nice girl I met in the bathroom, and she asked me if I wanted a bump, and I said sure, why not.” I felt bad lying to him, but Tom’s warning from earlier about ruining Greg’s career rang through my mind. Tom was a prick, but there was still something that felt dangerous about him. And as much as I hated Waystar, I did not want to be responsible for Greg getting fired.

“Oh, I see.” Greg nodded. “That’s cool, I mean, I don’t care that you did it—I mean, I’ve done it before, too, just so you know—I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” I lowered my voice. “I’m wondering if it was cut with something weird, though, and that’s why I was feeling so sick at first. I’m okay now, though, I think.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we can totally blow this off, and, like, head home, if you’re not feeling well.”

“Really?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, totally.” He nodded. “I think Logan’s supposed to be giving a speech at some point, but I don’t really need to stay for that.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” I leaned against him, glancing out over the crowd. I saw that Tom had reappeared across the room and was now talking to his wife. His eyes met mine for a moment, a smile tugging up the corner of his lips.

“Do you want to just go back to my place? I mean, it’s closer, and you haven’t been over yet.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” I ripped my gaze away, meeting Greg’s eyes again, giving him a more successful smile this time. I really was interested to see his apartment.

“Okay, cool. I’ll call the driver if you go get our coats? Meet you out there?”

“Okay.” I nodded, taking his coat check ticket and heading for the exit, keeping my gaze straight ahead, my shoulders back.

I got our coats and stepped out into the frigid air, wrapping mine around myself and trying not to shiver. My legs were mostly bare, and I shifted from foot to foot, trying to warm myself. I felt my phone vibrate and I pulled it out to see a text from an unsaved number.

Remember what I told you.

          My fingers shook as I tried to think of how to respond, if I should at all, and I knew it wasn’t just from the cold. I wasn’t surprised that Tom had been able to find my number—not really. I put the phone back in my pocket, wrapping my coat tighter around myself. I was about to head back inside to wait for Greg, the cold outweighing my fear of running into Tom yet again, but then I saw Greg heading towards me. The car pulled up, and the driver came around to open the door for us.

          In the warmth of the car, I still shivered, scooting closer to Greg and laying my chin on his shoulder. He squeezed my thigh, then interlocked his fingers with mine.

          “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to turn up the heat more, or anything?” He asked softly, brushing some of my hair back from my face.

          “No, it’s okay. I’m warming up now.” I smiled. “I’m excited to finally see your place.”

          “I am, too! It’s kind of crazy. I don’t know if I told you, but Kendall, who you met tonight, actually owns the place, and he’s kind of just, like, letting me live there right now.”

          “Really?” I asked. “That’s really cool of him.”

          “I know, right?” He went on to tell me the story of how he hadn’t been able to believe it at first, that he’d thought Kendall had been playing a joke on him. Given the initial impressions I’d gotten of his family members, that didn’t surprise me.  

          We pulled up to his building and he helped me out, leading the way inside, then up in the building’s elevator, almost to the top floor. When the door slid open to reveal his apartment, I was surprised at its size, despite how he’d already described it to me. It had the tallest ceilings I’d ever seen in an NYC apartment—or any apartment, anywhere, really.

          “Jesus, this is incredible.” I breathed, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the lit-up city.

          “It is. I still can’t believe I get to live here sometimes. Like, I keep waiting for him to kick me out.” He let out a nervous laugh.

          “That’s kinda fucked up.” I turned to face him, leaning against the glass.

          “Yeah, it is.” He sighed, coming over to me. “Hey, did anyone…did any of them say anything, like, weird to you? I mean, I saw that Tom was with you at the bar while Kendall and I were talking, and then, like, the next time I looked over, you were both gone.”

          I closed my eyes, leaning into his chest. I didn’t want to lie to him. The truth swirled around inside of me, and I felt a wave of nausea as the mix of no food, lots of alcohol, and two lines caught up with me.

          “I’m going to throw up,” I choked out, realizing I didn’t know where his bathroom was.

          “Oh, fuck, okay, it’s this way.” He read my mind, pulling me down a hallway and into a bathroom, flipping the light on. I bent over the toilet, making it just in time for my guts to upend themselves, spilling the evening’s overpriced g&t’s into the bowl.

          Another wave came up, and then everything was out, nothing left inside of me. I felt Greg’s hands in my hair, smoothing it back from my face. I spit into the toilet and closed the lid, flushing and propping up my head, unable to look up at him.

          “I’m sorry.” I croaked. “You didn’t have to—you didn’t have to stay.”

          “No, no, it’s okay.” He said, rubbing my back slowly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

          “I’m—I’m fine now.” I pushed myself up and stood shakily, looking at myself in the mirror. My makeup was streaked down my face, my hair mussed, my eyes red and teary. “Fuck.”

          “Do you need to throw up more, or do you want to go lie down?”

          “I think I’m done. Do you have, like, mouthwash or anything?” I asked, leaning on the counter, my head in my hands.

          “Yeah, I’ll go get some. Be right back.” I heard him pad down the hall and open another door. I spat into the sink and turned on the tap, rinsing my mouth with water while I waited. How much did I need to tell him? How much could I tell him?

          “Here,” He reappeared in the doorway, handing me a bottle of Listerine.

          “Thanks,” I took a big swig, swishing it around between my teeth for a minute, until it stung my gums, then spat the minty foam and rinsed it down the drain.

          “Do you want, like, one of my shirts to wear to bed?” He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch me, but hesitated.

          “That would be great, yeah.” I nodded. He led us down the hall to his bedroom, which was just as big as I’d imagined it would be, having seen the rest of the apartment. “You don’t have any makeup wipes, do you?”

          “No, sorry.” He shook his head, rummaging through his drawers. He pulled out a white t-shirt and handed it over.

          “That’s okay. Can you help me with the zipper?” I turned around, and he pulled the zipper down so I could slide the dress off of my body. I shuddered as I remembered how Tom had done the same thing just hours before. I unhooked my bra quickly, pulling the t-shirt on to cover myself.

          “Y/n.” He took my hands in his. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.”

          “I…” I started, swallowing, closing my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, into his searching gaze. “Tom was being, like, kind of weird.”

          “How—how so?” He sat down on the bed, pulling me to him.

          “When you weren’t around he…he was just…I don’t know, like, weirdly interested in me, I guess.” I bit my lip. “But I was worried because if I told you anything, and he found out, he said he’d…” I was still too high, and having to deal with conflict felt incredibly overwhelming, and I collapsed, sniffling into his chest.

          “Fucking Tom, oh my God.” He sighed, pulling me onto his lap.

          “Please don’t let him know I even said—said anything.” I whispered, another sob coming out.

          “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m not scared of Tom, okay? You don’t need to worry. Whatever he said he’d do to me, don’t worry about it.

          “Did he…” Greg trailed off, and I looked up at him. “Did he do anything to you?”

          “No.” I shook my head. “Almost, but no. He said he was, like, just joking with me or something.”

          He ran a hand over my hair, reaching down to wipe my tears with his thumb. “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I should’ve realized he would do something tonight.”

          “It’s not your fault.” I whispered, swiping at my face. “I’m gonna go wash my face, okay? Be right back.”

          I got up and went back to the bathroom, cleaning off my face the best I could with soap and water—I knew it wasn’t great for my skin, but it was probably better than sleeping in a full face of makeup. I padded back to the bedroom and found him sitting in the same spot, on his phone.

          “You’re not texting him, are you?” I balked in the doorway.

          “Hey, come here.” He opened his arms, and I allowed myself to be wrapped in them once more. “I don’t want you to worry about Tom. He’s a dick, yeah, but he’s kind of…like, on the outs with the fam right now. He’s impotent, okay? I’m not worried about him.”

          “If you’re sure…” I swallowed.

          “I’m sure.” He laid back against the pillows, pulling me down with him. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

          “It’s not your fault.” I said again, burying my face in his chest.

          “Is there anything I can do? To make you feel better?” He ran a hand over my hair, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

          “I don’t think so. I’m okay.” I whispered. I wished I could just go to sleep, but I was still too wired from the coke. It was going to be a very long night.

          “You don’t want me to kill him, or anything?” He asked, and I giggled, trying to stifle the noise with my hand. “What, you don’t think I can put out a hit on him?”

          “Not really.” I said, pressing my lips together, but more laughter spilled out, and he joined in, still holding me close.

          “You don’t want me to have the mob take him out?” He teased, and I shook my head, giving him a kiss.

          “No, if you’re going to kill him, I want you to do it yourself.” I rubbed my nose against his. He’d succeeded in making me feel better, at least for the moment.

          “Well, whatever you want.” He pressed another kiss to my lips, and I let myself melt into him before pulling back. “Do you want to go to bed?”

          I shook my head. “I’m kind of tired, but I’m not going to be able to sleep for a while.”

          “Do you want to watch a show or something, then?” He asked, rolling over to grab a remote from his nightstand.

          “Sure.” I sat up as he scrolled through some options, landing on something light and stupid, pressing play on a random episode.

          “Are you hungry at all?” He asked. “I have, like, cereal, and probably some chips and stuff.”

          “No, I’m okay.” I smiled. His place was such a bachelor pad. “Thank you, though. You’re the sweetest.”

          “Nah, I’m not.” He protested, but I could see that he was pleased.

          “You are, too.” I kissed his cheek, moving down to his neck.

          “For real, though, do you need anything?” He looked at me, our eyes locking in the dim light coming from the TV screen. It might’ve been the fact that I was high, but it felt like he was looking straight into me, reading my mind.

          “No, no, I’m…I’m good.” I whispered. “Just need you here, with me. That’s all.”

          “Okay.” He breathed out, pulling me closer to him once again, our limbs wrapping around each other, my ear pressed to his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping away, and relaxed into the sound. I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while yet, but that was okay, as long as I could stay with him, just like this.

[rksses]

a pearl for your thoughts

angst/fluff ：college au , fem!reader implied , one-sided love , reader has low confidence and is really shy in the beginning

an ： i got tired in the end so this is gonna have multiple parts. this was originally written with the title amaryllis (a flower that represents one sided love I KNOW IM SUCHA GEEK) but i changed it last minute and I don’t have the energy to remove the underlying plant/flower theme

. . . 🎬 🌷 I 🌷 II 🌷 III

it was 2:09 am and there you were , sitting comfortably in your little rolly chair with a pen and paper and hundreds of unfinished and rejected drafts in your plastic trash bin.

usually at this time , you would be doing some sort of homework or writing paragraphs for school and such. tonight, you were certainly writing paragraphs. but for more.. personal reasons. you spent the past hour and a half trying to compose the perfect love letter for him. gojo satoru.

when you and satoru first met , it was the midst of summer. the humidity was probably messing with your head because at first sight , you had thought he wasn't real. i mean, he couldn't have been. he was the human embodiment of beauty. his azure gaze set on yours as your friend introduced him to you and you unintentionally confessed your “love” for him on spot. in reality , it was just your head thinking that you recognizing his beauty as instant love and just slipped out. as embarrassing as it was to have everyone hear your supposed to be inner thoughts come out of your mouth, you can't help but me grateful for that moment because that's when your friendship had begun to sprout.

summer is rough , but arguably the best part about it is that it's perfect beach weather. one of your classmates , juniper , had arranged a beach day and invited everyone in all of her classes , including you. this was one of the first ever events that you had been invited to that wasn't a family thing and you were super excited. you happily accepted this hangout invitation and went to the mall to get a new bathing suit.

bathing suit shopping was harder than you thought it would be. the stock followed the fashion trends and bikinis are totally in. the large collection of bikinis was overwhelming ( especially how revealing they were ) , but you had managed to find a modest white bikini with pink flowers printed nicely on the top and bottom.

the sun shined down upon the beautiful sandy beach and you had finally made it to the beach. you were glad you took this day to have a little beach day. you definitely needed it. you took out your towel and set it near juniper's towel , as she was really the only person you knew , even if it was just from one little interaction. "oh my gosh !!!!" a voice squealed behind you. "y/n !!! 'm so glad you could make it!!! i didn't think you'd come since you're such a loner , but i'm so glad you did." she smiled brightly. only she could be that backhanded while genuinely trying to be nice. "you need anything ? like sunscreen ... or water .. oh , and we have this new really coo-" she paused , distracted and dazed by something , or rather someone behind you. you awkwardly smiled at her ans took a glance behind you , and there he was. there stood the tall , white-haired man that you'd been dreaming about.

she dragged you over to the umbrella everyone was sharing and introduced you to her friends. "heyy !!!! guys , guys , guys! ya know that cute , quiet girl with h/c hair that i invited ?? meet y/n!" you greeted them all awkwardly with a small 'hey' or 'hi' and were returned with the same energy. you didn’t know anybody and you weren't very experienced with getting social with people so you couldn't hold a conversation very well either. however , when you went to greet another one of her friends , one specific word came to mind.

angelic.

gojo satoru was the embodiment of beauty , with charming facial features , distinctive blue eyes the color of the sky , along with a toned body , he was gorgeous. ethereal. you could already tell you would fall in love with him , hell , you already were.

but somehow , these thoughts got past your brain and instead came out of your mouth , heavily flattering the man before you .

and that was how you met your soon - to - be love of your life .

🌷 🌷 🌷

the water was perfect tempature for swimming. you dipped your foot in the water and then your leg and next thing you know , you're already shoulder deep. you're bored and everyone else was having a great time over at the umbrellas so you decided to look for shells to quell your bordem. ever since you were about 5 years old , you've always loved collecting shiny items such as keys , jewels , tin foil , coins and occasionally shells.

after a couple hundred seashells later , you find a clam and 5 seconds later , you find yourself desperately trying to pry it open , in hopes of finding a pearl.

unfortunately , due to your lack of muscle strength , the clam remained shut , unwilling to open up to the world. (sound familiar ?)

a shadow appeared above you , as well as a water droplet that fell on your nose. “y/n was it ?” a sultry voice said. you looked up at the source of the voice and low and behold it’s “gojo satoru. you can call me satoru. don’t think we’ve met before ,” he smirks. “besides you confessing your undying love for me earlier.” your cheeks turned red as you’re reminded of how you publicly embarrassed yourself in front of the whole graduating class of 2023.

“yes , you’re right , it’s y/n” you politely reply. “sorry for that , by the way. i didn’t mean to say that.” you smile awkwardly. “no reason to apologize ! and don’t worry about it , i get it all the time darling.” he cockily stated. “need a hand ?” you looked back down at your hands , still holding the clam. you had long forgotten about this calm , as you were enamored by his unique lavender scent. after all , smelling good is one of the best ways to instantly be more attractive.

“actually , yeah. i could use a hand.” you passed the shut clam to gojo and without a sweat , he opens it. inside is a pearl. a pink pearl to symbolize love.

autumn had arrrived. it was a few months into this friendship , you couldn't help but notice these small things he did for you that he didn't used to before , such as opening the door for you , playfully teasing you about small compliments and such. he had gotten more comfortable with you , and of course , so had you. he had given you support as a friend and had helped you gain some confidence and a crush from his compliments and unnecessary affection. you didn't think much of your newly developed crush yet , because although you two were good friends, you were miles away from him in social status , in beauty , in... everything , really. painful it was to have a crush on someone who could never like you back , he was still your friend and that would suffice for you. plus, you should get over this silly crush in a week or two, right ?

wrong. in the next month , your feelings seemed to grow even stronger than before. he had plucked the delicate petals of your heart just right and made you fall for him unknowingly. you were like putty in his hands , easily swayed by his flirtatious persona and handsome looks. he was the definition of beautiful and he knew it. you would never admit it to his face but , he was the most attractive person you'd ever seen. and it definitely didn’t help that people often mistook you for a couple.

you didn't even remember it yourself but today was your birthday and surprisingly enough , gojo had put on the sweetest ( figuratively and literally ) and most minimal birthday party ever, just the way you liked it. he got in by using the extra key underneath the doormat and sneakily set everything up.

when you got home , your 'best friend' was awaiting you near a bountifully filled dessert table, decorated with lavender scented candles (gojo’s signature scent) and soft pink chocolate pearls adorning the tiny cupcakes. your cheeks stain with shades of red and pink as you excitedly smile , in thought of how much effort gojo had put into trying to make your birthday a special day.

you and gojo went on to grow even closer. by september , he had become apart of your daily life at this point. every single day he showered you in love and affection and everyday, you fell twice as hard as the last. at this point , your so-called 'crush' had developed into something more and somewhere deep underneath your barricaded heart, you knew it.

first love was not something you had ever experienced until you met him. he constantly watered your starved heart and unknowingly blossomed something inside of you.

🌷 🌷 🌷

part two is in the making xx 💋 !

[fictive-fodder]

|| Second Sight : V :September 25th, 1996||

Wizarding folk did not understand your work as a Specularri. Most with the gift of Sight failed to be as tenacious and diligent as the training required. But Seers who did were highly sought after by the bereaved, even the Ministry consulted you on mysterious deaths. The night of the new moon was usually ideal for your work, but when it coincided with the death of Sirius Black, nothing went as expected. Read this on A03 here!   

|| Word Count: 6.3K||

Warnings : Implied drug use

Story Chapters -

PART I - PART II- PART III - PART IV - PART V

||Author’s Note|| thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I have enjoyed writing it <3 Though many people love the world of Harry Potter, J K Rowling has been making problematic statements for a long time and I am glad to see people taking her most recent ignorance seriously, as the gross, transphobic, hate speech that it is. There is so much beloved content that contains problematic, dangerous or inappropriate elements. Or, the author sucks. If we don’t learn to accept the good content while learning to acknowledge, highlight, and stand against the problematic content, we are throwing away most of the creative stories in our world. And that’s a shame, I’d rather we reclaim it and make it better. So even though this is Harry Potter fan fiction, this story centers around a non binary reader. It is my hope that anyone feels like they can slip into this story, and be apart. I want to make space for all who are willing to salvage this story. Any trans folks and gender queer folks who are here, reading, as I ramble on- Hi. You are welcome here. Thanks for giving me your time. <3

|| Tag List|| @hogwarts-1d-drarry-stan  @srhxpci  @loonyclaris

Staggering, you fell against the stack of books Byron never managed to organize by his front door. They toppled down to the ground, the slaps of them hitting the tile echoed down the corridor of his home. “Byron!” you called feebly through the cottage.

“What the-“ you could hear Byron sleepily exclaim as he lit his wand. You leaned against the nearest wall as you heard Byron stumble into the end of the corridor from you. “What on earth happened?”

“It’s Padfoot.” your voice trembled. Byron closed the distance between the two of you, his hands coming to hold your shoulders. “It’s him, it *is* Sirius Black. Then I was at Grimmauld Place and- Remus still knew him, Byron, they’re still friends.”

“Oh sugar.” Byron cursed, pulling you into a hug. Your head against his chest, Byron cradled the back of your head with one of his hands, his thumb petting your hair as you shuddered against him.

“What am I supposed to do? What does that mean about the order? What are we going to do?” you cried against him. Byron hugged you tighter to his chest, rocking you slowly.

“First thing to do is get through tonight.” he hushed, “Do you think you can do that?”

You felt a fresh wave of hot tears meet your eyes. Your mind was racing to create fearsome possibilities of what could happen, even as you became distracted every few moments with how extremely tired you were. Already, it felt like Byron was holding up most of your weight.

“Tell me you can do that, love.” Byron cooed under his breath.

“I can do that.” you answered, face feeling hot with self consciousness. You had never been so open with Byron before, but his ease with comforting you was nearly worth the embarrassment.

“Too right.” Byron affirmed, leading you over to the sofa in his sitting room. “How about you close your eyes for a few minutes and think about where we met. Tell me what you remember.” he continued, leaving you to lay down as he opened the window behind you. The cold beach air spilled in from the window like an unfurling blanket. You shivered, pulling a nearby throw woven from thick wool over your shoulders. The low rumble of the ocean waves rolling close by slowed your breathing. Suddenly, your eyes felt so heavy.

“You were lost.” you sniffed, closing your eyes to force yourself to visualize it. Apulia. The Adriatic Sea the only thing separating you from what you wanted most. The intensity of the sun in that region, the homes carved from limestone, olive trees. The sound of the ocean, just like here.

“As you would never let me forget.” Byron mumbled, sitting on the edge of his coffee table beside you. You heard him rub his hands together, covering his fingertips in a balm that smelled like chamomile, marshmallow root, burdock, mug wort, and vanilla- grounded, earthy, sweet. Then, as he waited for you to continue, he pushed his fingers gently against your temple, up and down the front and back of your ear, against the nape of your neck.

“I can still see them-“ you whispered, frowning as you felt hot tears well up in your closed eyes. “The Halls, they won’t go away.”

“Why was I lost?” Byron asked softly.

“Because-“ you wheezed, surprised by yourself having the ability to cry and laugh at the same time, “-you had successfully scryed that the college existed, but you didn’t know where to go.”

“But you did.”

“I might scry well, but I never had your talent with potions.” you said, your body had began to feel heavy as Byron began to rub his fingers through your hair.

“Didn’t you get dreams, too?”

“Once we made it to Phocis, yea.”

“What of?”

“The X in the underground stone that marked the breath of the gods at Delphi…” you answered quietly. “I dreamt of King Croesus insisting that the Pythia give him council on a war, even though it wasn’t the right time to divine. The Pythia initially refused, but once the king threatened to destroy the Oracle, she went down into the caves, the very same we ended up studying in, and inhaled the gods’ breath. But the moon wasn’t where it should have been, and the gases too strong. The king found her, crazed and frantic, seeing things that were not there, before she was overcome by insanity and died.”

“… I forgot how pleasant your subconscious is.”

“Well—“ you yawned, “pleasant or not, it got us in to the college.”

“You never did explain how.”

“The dream was about timing. We needed to be there on the right moon, or we wouldn’t be welcomed.”

There was a long pause in conversation then, the ocean waves beyond the window continuing their deep, soft roar.

“I’m glad I came here.” you mumbled, tongue heavy with sleep.

-X-

Someone was holding you by your waist. Enormous, armored hands with fingers as long as your ribs, effortlessly pulling you up into what, you did not know. You could not tell if your eyes were closed, open, or if the surrounding world was black. There was only the sensation of metal closing around your sides, darkness, and echoing breath.

“Can see your-” the breath took shape into words, distant, metallic, as if spoken through a tin. And suddenly you noticed there was a deeper darkness before you, outlining the contour of a helm, the black within it limitless and gaping.

With a jolt of panic you realized this armored creature was holding you up, as if inspecting you.

“I can see-” it breathed again. You struggled to move to no avail. You felt fear unlike any you’d ever known, as you comprehended that this nightmare, this monster, had overpowered you. You could not move, you could not speak, even your capacity to understand what was happening, where you were, felt stunted, tampered with.

“Your wounds- shining beneath your armor.” it hissed, metallic tongued, your stomach turning as it lifted you higher.

“No!” you cried, desperate to rip yourself away.

“Good Godrick-” you heard Byron gasp, as your eyes opened to the view of his sunbathed sitting room. The scent of fried potatoes filled your nose as you turned to see Byron, hand over his heart, startled. “You can’t do that to me- all content and asleep one moment, shouting the next.” he wheezed, shaking a wooden spatula in your direction. “Damn near stopped my heart!” ”Sorry-” you replied, shoulders falling as you looked around his home and relief washed over you. “Was I asleep long?” ”Not three days long.” Byron smiled, hustling to bring you a cup of coffee. “Just overnight.”

“Oh.” you frowned, accepting the mug with a nod of appreciation.

“How do you feel?”

“Not… not that bad?” you answered, sounding as surprised as Byron looked. “Had another weird dream, though.”

“About the Perceforest thing?”

“I don’t know…” your frown deepened. The heat of your cup of coffee spread through your hands, warming them. It helped you feel like you could breathe. Glancing down, you noticed your coffee was in a chipped novelty mug that said “Byron’s Bed & Breakfast ~ Grieve in Peace.” You smiled as the little ocean waves illustrated along with a rendition of Byron’s home rolled in sync with the actual tide outside. You hadn’t known that he’d wanted to start an inn, or used to have one.

“So what, if not that?” Byron asked, darting back into the kitchen.

And then with a jolt you noticed you could see the cup through your fingertips. You nearly spilled the coffee as you hastily set the mug down and stared at your hands. Your eyes widened as you moved the tips of your translucent fingertips, stomach sinking. You didn’t understand what he was asking, the confusion further upsetting you. What was wrong with your hands? This had never happened before. You could feel your mind begin to race and forced yourself to stop. It was too much to think about. And it wasn’t that noticeable anyway. You couldn’t bear worrying about it right now. Besides, they didn’t hurt and they worked just fine.

“Hey?” Byron asked, reappearing with two mismatched bowls piled high with potatoes and eggs.

“Sorry- the coffee was so good I lost track of what we were talking about.” you lied, accepting the breakfast with raised eyebrows. “Wow, thank you.”

“What was weird about the dream?” Byron pressed, sitting beside you on the couch.

“There was a creature?” you started through a bite of egg. “It felt old, powerful… as if it was surprised I was there, but also like it had been waiting?”

“For what?”

“Some… one or thing… to arrive… or happen.”

“And when you say creature?”

“Big and strong… and in armor. It was so dark it was hard to see. But around it’s helm there was a crown made from Blackthorn branches.”

“Could you draw it?” Byron asked, setting down his half eaten bowl to reach for a quill and parchment.

“The armor?” you asked, accepting it.

“Yea.”

“Why?”

“Just curious. Go on.” he encouraged. Feebly, you did your best to capture the particular shapes you remembered, surprised to see just how intrigued Byron was to take the parchment from you and tuck it into his pocket. “Was there anything else?”

“It spoke to me. It said ‘I can see your wounds shining beneath your armor.’”

“Did it sound like the same sort of voice?”

You thought about it, recalling the first dream. And for you, who would reach this boundary, set foot on my threshold, to see the sun in the middle of the night, blazing with bright light, to approach me from below, from above, and worship me from nearby. You are saved from Perceforest this night. “It wasn’t dissimilar.”

“Have you run into anything or anyone else inside the Halls?”

Your stomach dropped as the light filled your memory. The odd cry of excitement as its brightness grew. “Nothing like that dream.” you answered, and then proceeded to detail everything about last night to Byron. He listened attentively, with growing concern behind his eyes despite his best attempts to show calm. After you finished, he took a long time to respond. Then, with a hard look at you, Byron slowly set down his bowl, leaned over, and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I know it’s a lot, but you don’t have to do this.” you mumbled against his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Byron replied low, sitting back. “I think we should let Solonie know everything.”

You fought to keep your expression neutral and receptive instead of the skeptical and defensive.

“I don’t think she’ll be upset.” Byron continued, running his fingers over his beard. “But I think she might know what could help and even if she doesn’t, there isn’t anyone with better resources to figure it out.”

“Help with what, though?” you asked, throat tight. You hid your hands beneath the wool blanket still over you. “What am I doing? Helping him? The crazy wizard who was strong enough to break free of Azkaban? You know, before he even remembered who he was he remembered Harry. He remembered needing to get to Harry.”

Byron’s frown deepened as he considered your concerns. “Solonie can give guidance on that, too. I mean, she’s been a Specularri longer than you’ve been alive. This can’t be her first instance of a morally ambiguous situation.”

“It’s just…” you started, feeling an itching agitation of just wishing you could know what you needed on your own. “You never heard of anything like this in Delphi, right? And neither have I. And if it wasn’t something to be learned there, than how does it exist? How does this whole… place exist? And why?”

“It’s not unreasonable to imagine that Dorea Black may have discovered something that the Specularris of Delphi didn’t know about.” Byron replied, shrugging gently. “They are steeped in Mediterranean traditions that go back before England was united as a country. Their focus was always on ancient wisdoms. Maybe their wealth of knowledge predates the Halls and whatever Perceforest is.”

You sat back, hugging your knees up to your chest. Everything Byron was saying made sense, but telling Solonie didn’t sit right with you. Why? Why did you feel so protective?

“We always think of magic as something still. Something cemented into history and never adapts. But what if it does? What if it evolves right along with us? And just as it shapes us, we shape it?” Byron mused, shrugging. The unease you felt only bit down harder as you considered his line of thought.

“Give me a moment.” you sighed, standing up and walking to the nearest toilet. You could hear Byron casting cleaning spells in the kitchen as you forced yourself to approach the sink. Your heart raced as you looked into your own reflection, wondering if you would hear Sirius Black’s voice calling out to you again. A pang of confusing pain shot through your nerves as you remembered how desperate he had sounded, how happy he was that he could still reach you. Growling, you rubbed your eyes, which were as irritated as ever after connecting to him, and forced yourself to look into the mirror. The Halls were still there, clear dark shapes in the periphery of the reflection, but nothing else. The sight, and the lack of him caused anger to rise in you, and shame, and betrayal. You grimaced at yourself in the mirror. Why were you upset that he wasn’t there? That was what you wanted. You didn’t want to keep helping him. You wanted him gone.

-X-

At first glance, the Ministry of Magic seemed unchanged despite all of the news. Voldemort may be back, but everyone was still coming into work, dressed in their business cloaks and talking Quidditch or whining about an inhumane deadline.You made your way, as was usual, to the Licensing Department, and just as always Pharien smiled as they saw you approach.

”Good morning!” They greeted with a touch of indulgent joy. You shot them a flat smile.

“Why do you always choose the earliest option to bring me in?” you greeted, taking the seat at the head of their desk.

“Do I?”

“Don’t play coy.” you groaned, rubbing your eyes with your gloved hands before you went to reach for all of your paperwork. The translucence to your fingertips hadn’t gone away. The Halls too, were still there every time you looked into something reflective, at this point you were just getting used to your eyes being irritated, light sensitive and dry.

“No no, I had a good reason this time.” Pharien promised, with a nod of thanks as they accepted the paperwork from you.

“This time?” you repeated, tilting your head. “So you admit you do this?”

“You see,” they started, leaning over their desk in a confidential gesture. “I have a friend that works for the Department of Mysteries. She’s an Unspeakable, right?” Pharien couldn’t help but give a victorious little smile as they saw your interest peak- Unspeakables were notoriously difficult to be familiar with, at least outright.

“How are you friends with an Unspeakable?”

“Wow, rude. I do have some very redeeming qualities.”

“Color me unconvinced. How are you friends with an Unspeakable?”

“Well, I guess whatever her job is there has something to do with your line of work, because she’s always asking about how being a Specularri works.”

“What do you tell her?”

“I told her I’d bring her a Specularri, one of the best.” Pharien waggled their eyebrows at you. “But they were busy. So you’ll have to do.”

You stood up then, looking at Pharien with a flat glare.

“Right, so we’re going! Yes! Off to the department of mysteries!”

-X-

You had never been so deep in the Ministry of Magic before. It felt like being back in the caves at Delphi- something about the human body could feel when it was being led deep beneath ground, even when it was as polished as a government office. Pharien nodded to the wix standing guard outside the office door, who regarded the two of you skeptically.

Immediately you felt self conscious, but your curiosity to see the inside of the department of mysteries overpowered your anxieties.

“Fortiger asked me to bring a specialist for something she’s working on.” Pharien explained to the guard. They nodded, waving their hand before the door that they guarded. You heard several locks releasing before the guard ushered you inside.

“Well-“ you started, looking over your shoulder to Pharien. “I expect my license to be processed first thing! And you’re welcome for all this!” You called out, before the guard closed the door on Pharien’s face.

You heard a low, silky voice say your name from the heart of the room. Turning to look, your eyes fell upon a tall, willowy woman, with platinum colored hair that shaggily fell to her shoulders. She regarded you with squinting upturned eyes, so blue they nearly looked violet in this light. The wide line of her mouth curled upwards in a grin as their eyes traced your features.

“Hello,” you started, reaching out your gloved hand towards her for a shake. “It’s a pleasure. Fortiger, right?”

“Yes.” She replied, her handshake was firm, rigid, and brief. With a bow of her head, Fortiger continued introducing herself as she led you down a corridor. “Gentian Fortiger. Thank you for accommodating this request into your schedule. I am sure you’re very busy in your capacity as a Specularri.”

“Well I never thought it would lead me to an invitation here.” you answered with a chuckle. “What is it that I can do for you, Gentian?”

She smiled, continuing to lead down a set of stairs, deeper into the earth. You felt the temperature drop with each step downward. “Working as an Unspeakable has many challenges- nuances, that can make our work seem ambiguous, even superfluous. As a Specularri, I imagine that resonates with you?”

“That attitude is often extended to divination as a whole, yea.” You pushed your arms closer to your side as the staircase finally opened up into a wide corridor. As your eyes adjusted to the torches that flared to life at your presence, you had to withhold a gasp. The walls had lost their black lacquered tiles, and were instead a much older carved stone. The corridor tapered upwards to a high ceiling, with multiple columns supporting the sweeping, medieval architecture. It looked just like it. The Halls.

Gentian exchanged a glance with you, leading you down the hallway to an ancient looking wooden door.

“It’s musty down here- old.” Gentian remarked quietly, in the same way people lower their voices while looking at great art. There was a reverence in her tone, an understanding that in this deep and old place, there was the remnant of something artful, something precious. That it only still existed through generations of great care.

With a flourish of her wand, the door groaned open, revealing a large auditorium with a raised Dias in the center. You could easily sense an ancient, sacred quality to this place, but there were also signs of a more recent disturbance; chipped stones on the floor leading down towards the center, the few items in the room were haphazardly moved to one side, as if it had been cleaned recently but not reorganized.

This time, you were not able to hide your gasp as your eyes fell to the center of the room. A black veil raised on the Dias, billowing softly in a non existent wind. Your heart skipped several beats, throbbing thickly in your chest as you heard indiscernible whispers emit from it, just like the ones you heard in the Halls.

The weight of Gentian’s eyes studying you only exacerbated the Veil’s affect on you. The hair on the back of your neck and arms rose, and as you approached the itching in your eyes became profoundly worse, causing them to water.

“This is one of the two most ancient relics of our country.” Gentian gestured to the Veil. “This, and the pensive located at Hogwarts predate Hogwarts itself- the ministry, too. They are part of an ancient magic that was the foundation of what we use today.”

Slowly, as if in a dream, you reached your hand outward, but before it could even land on the lip of the Dias, Gentian’s hand caught yours in mid air, gently squeezing it as they shook their head. “I can’t allow you to get any closer than this.”

“So, the pensive and this? What does that mean this Veil is? Do you know?”

“That is why you’re here.”

You blinked, eyes shifting between the Veil and Gentian’s smiling eyes.

“There was a… disturbance, not that long ago.”

“Oh?”

She nodded, her face paling as she glanced at the Veil as if regarding a sinister entity. “The Veil has never in recent history been recorded to do anything other than what you see now. But since that disturbance, there have been periods of heightened activity.”

“Right, okay. And you wanted a Specularri because you think it has to do with the dead?”

“The dead have not changed from my understanding, they are still dead. I do not think they are the reason the Veil has been irregularly active.”

“What does active mean? And if not the dead- why would you want someone like me?”

Gentian sighed then, running their long fingers through their hair. “Occasionally, this artifact will become more active as the black cloth changes from moving gently to full on billowing as if in a non existent storm. Additionally, the whispering that you may, or may not be able to hear becomes very audible, the voices- if we should call it that- are raised, sometimes to the point of shouting, while still remaining indiscernible.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“Very much so.” Gentian chuckled, clearly appreciating the lightness of your response.

You waited for Gentian to answer your second question, struggling to pull your focus away from the Veil. You wanted to touch it so badly.

“I’d like, if you’re willing, for you to try your art on the Veil itself.” Gentian said, voice softer. “I don’t mean scrying necessarily, but whatever divinatory application you think might best serve me.”

You could feel your heart beating thickly in your temple, trying to seem politely curious and professional instead of the burning, crazed fascination you truly felt. You did your best attempt at a casual nod of consideration. It was like she was just giving it to you- all the access you could want with this thing.

“Do you hear the whispers?” She asked, glancing at the Veil.

“Yes.” You said, straining to sound normal.

-X-

It was never going to feel great, you had to remind yourself, telling Solonie about Sirius Black was never going to feel convenient, or easy, or calm. You were just going to have to do it stressed and anxious.

She looked at you from across her scrying table, eyes full of patient concern. The grace of this woman, while sometimes stern, was an unending source of value to you. Not many people could say they have fair and genuinely compassionate superiors, but Solonie was. You tried to remind yourself of that while you forced yourself to look into her face, wrinkles embroidering her gentle smile with calm.

“Hi.” She started playfully, and you could hear yourself gulp. You wondered with an abstract self consciousness if she heard it. If she knew how worried you were to tell her everything. How had Byron convinced you of this?

Calling you back to return to the present moment, Solonie said your name, reaching over to gently touch her hand to yours.

“Right…” you sighed, giving her a tight smile. “So, the new moon a few months ago.” You glanced up to the ceiling as chills went through your body. It was just a conversation, but somehow it felt like you wouldn’t survive it.

“Yes?” Solonie encouraged supportively.

“Well.” you breathed, and breathed again. Even if she wasn’t going to lose patience with you, you were. A flash of self annoyance lit up within you. Stop thinking. Just talk, you thought. “I encountered an anomaly. I experienced something that I never have before, and I’ve never read about, was taught about, anything.” ”Alright.” Solonie responded, head tilting. There was a trace of concern in her eyes, and even though that was embarrassing, you supposed you couldn’t be surprised. You had never been so emotional in front of her.

“Someth- someone, found me. From inside the mirror. And they were different, too. They felt alive. Reactive. Able to interact with the scrying materials… nearly able to see me, too.” Though Solonie’s face remained professional and stoic, her cheeks paled. You nodded, sighing again.

“I am guessing that means you’ve never experienced that before?” you asked.

“Nothing like that. Not ever.”

“So naturally, I was alarmed because it seemed like this person was trapped.”

“But where?”

You laughed, nodding gravely. “Where indeed.” you replied dryly. “I’ve managed to keep in contact, I’ve found ways to further explore this place, but I can’t understand how to get them… out.”

This admission cast you and Solonie in to a long moment of quiet. Her stoic expression flickered as she focused on the details you’d given. ”So tell me what you know of this place?”

“It’s a series of Halls. A light less place made up from cut stone- it looks medieval. It’s endless seeming. I found someone- not a Specularri, but someone who practices and they believe that this place is some kind of sacred space discovered by their teacher, the late Dorea Black.”

To this, one of Solonie’s eyebrows arched. Her expression sharpened wearily. “That so? Is that why you’ve been looking less and less yourself in the recent weeks?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, chest tightening with defensiveness.

“That you’ve been working away from this office more than ever. That you’ve managed to look sick every time I’ve seen you for the past nine weeks. What did this person tell you to do? Or give you?”

“Solonie-” you started, shaking your head.

“You can be offended. What did they give you?”

“They sell candles-” you started, voice hard. Why were you being so protective of Asterius? It was true, that candles were horrible. You would have reacted the same way if you’d seen Byron resorting to their use.

“Well what is in them?”

You blinked, and that reaction seemed all Solonie needed to condemn it. She groaned your name. “If you’re going to experiment with fringe practices, you need to be aware of what you’re using.”

You opened your mouth to retaliate to whatever criticism she might say, refute whatever harsh words may come, and blinked as you registered that she wasn’t severe at all. In fact, she was being very reasonable.

“So you’re not…” you started, “reporting me? Or, restricting my clients or I don’t know… punishing me?”

Solonie blinked back at you, her own flatness dwarfing your own sardonic sensibilities. “I’d sooner seek to punish whoever put that poor person wherever he is. But we do need to come up with a structure for you. It’s necessary that we help, but it is unwise to go into something so mysterious without fail safes. Now-” she turned to look at a moon calendar and ran her finger along until it rested against the next new moon. “The first thing you need to do is go back to wherever you got those candles and make sure you know whats in them. Then you can tell Byron and I, and we will look into the potion structure and see what are it’s risks, what makes it work, or fail. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is something we can alter that lowers it’s side effects. Or something we can make or use before and after hand to aid you.”

“Wait.” you started, eyes widening. “You’re not… I mean, you’re going to help? Me? You’re going to help me do this? Help him?”

“Of course.” Solonie replied, her eyes hard, as if it was insulting to assume otherwise. You felt tears rise in your eyes, a rush of pressure into your head. “What?” she exclaimed, only looking more offended.

“Sorry-” you tried to compose yourself, “I just didn’t think-”

“Yes. Not usually a problem with you. But I suppose we all have our moments.” Settling into her chair, she continued. “The next new moon is in October, will that give you enough time to source the materials of these candles?”

You started to say yes, but before you could say anything more, a soft knock sounded against her door. Aurelia apologized as she pushed in, eyes flickering nervously between the two of you.

“Yes?” Solonie asked. You were surprised when Aurelia’s focus shifted to you.

“Sorry,” she started, “There is someone in your office. Demanding to see you.”

“Oh-” you started, standing up slowly and glancing back towards Solonie for dismissal.

“I think we have a good start, go on.” she said, nodding.

As you walked down the hall towards your office, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of victory and dread. Byron had been right, Solonie was willing to help. Never would you have imagined that the conversation would have gone the way it had. Pushing into your office, you shook your head. What now? You hadn’t had the chance, or made your mind up, about telling Solonie who it was you had been trying to save. You hadn’t even made your mind up if you were going to continue to try and help Sirius. But- you thought with a grimace, how could you not?

As your office door closed behind you, you gasped sharply as your eyes landed on Remus Lupin, sitting at your table with a cadaverous pallor.

“I’ve been looking for you, everywhere. Both of us, Tonks and I.” he sighed in relief and stood up. Your eyes traced his path, breath turning shallow as you looked up into his face, your hand slowly reaching for your wand. His glance darted towards your hand and he shook his head.

“No. No, no-” he said low, holding one hand up in a gesture of surrender as the other withdrew his wand from his robes and placed it on your table. “I came here to apologize. For scaring you, for how everything happened.”

You snarled, your skin suddenly hot with a mix of embarrassment, anger, disappointment. “How what happened?” you seethed, teeth tight. “How you made a fool of Byron and I? How you tricked us into thinking that your Order was for something good? I ought to expose it all right now. I ought to march up to the Auror’s office, find whatever officer Alastor hates the most, and tell them the address of that horrible place-”

Remus’ eyes suddenly brightened, widening with vulnerability and alarm. You could see the pain in his expression deepen with your words, a frantic and desperate line to his mouth. His other hand drew upwards, until this tall, sullen soldier of a wizard was all but bowed before you, listening to you with increasing fear in his eyes. It satisfied you, it made you feel like there was still some part of your life that was not larger than yourself.

“Please.” he asked, his tone wavered. “Please allow me to show you just one, one thing- and then I will leave you alone. I just want you to understand one thing.”

The satisfaction you felt was immediately tempered by a sting of guilt as you watched how quickly this man came to begging. It scared you, the extremeness of your own emotions, of his- this entire situation. You shook your head lightly, trying to recenter yourself, trying to ground yourself.

“What is it.” you asked, voice hard and guarded.

Slowly reaching into a pocket of his robes, Remus pulled out a very wrinkled copy of The Daily Prophet. You blinked, having expected something stranger, wilder, not something as mundane as the paper. Your eyes traced the front as you recognized the issue. June 18th, 1996 HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS.

“Everyone saw this.” Remus gestured to the headline, before his fingers slipped to the inside pages, there was a well thumbed corner you noticed, he hardly had to glance as he turned the page. “But not…” he started, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

Sirius Black: The Truth Emerges

Long regarded as a dangerous fugitive, Sirius Black lost his life last night in the Department of Mysteries. Recent revelations confirm that Black was not responsible for the deaths of James and Lily Potter and was never a dark wizard. Instead, he fought against He Who Must Not Be Named’s followers, sacrificing himself in the struggle against the Dark Lord's return. Black has been granted pardon posthumously by the Minister of Magic for all accusations made against him.

You were unable to focus on the words. Each letter a strange symbol- chaos, unreal. You had been holding your breath and shaking your head long before you realized you were. Before you realized that you were still in your office with Remus Lupin. Before you were able to finally register that he was innocent. Sirius Black was innocent.

Unable to find words, you looked back up into Remus Lupin’s face and found it wet with tears. He was trying to stop himself from crying, his shoulders jerking slightly with the effort. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to only make it harder for him.

“The last time I saw you,” he started, “And I heard you say ‘Padfoot’, I-” he made a sound between a sigh and a sob, trying to clear his throat as he wiped his hand down his face. “I didn’t, I couldn’t control my emotions. I didn’t think of what it would seem like to you, and for that I will- I’ll regret that my life over.”

Remus took a step towards you, that same pleading expression on his face. “You may never trust me again, and wish to never set foot in another Order meeting. I would understand. I would never again trouble you. I would erase any mark myself or the Order left on your life. But-” his voice wavered. Remus came closer, eyes red and bright with hot tears. “If there is anything I can do so that you will help him, even if that means accomplishing such without ever reminding you of my existence again, I would… I would move mountains. Reorder the stars. Nothing you asked of me would be too great a cost. You would never hear any form of refusal. I would offer my life.”

A shiver ran through you, and you jumped as you felt a tear drop from your lash and hit your own cheek. The air surrounding you pressed close, bent, magnifying Remus’ anguish. But before you could think of what to say, the door to your office slammed open from behind you.

With a yip of terror, you pivoted, Remus was just as shocked as Byron pushed into the room.

“YOU’VE GOT SOME NERVE, LUPIN!” Byron roared, one of his huge arms coiling around you and pulling you closer to him, as his other hand pointed his wand at Remus’ chest. “YOU DIDN’T THINK I WAS WATCHING? THAT I WOULDN’T BE HERE?” ”Byron-” you gasped, choking on your breath.

Remus looked into Byron’s yelling face with eyes as big as saucers. Hands raised into the air, he quickly resumed his gesture of compliance. “I-”

“WHAT?” Byron growled, as you tried to gently disentangle yourself from him. “YOU WHAT? YOU’RE SORRY? YOU THINK THAT’S GOOD ENOUGH? YOU THINK THAT WE-”

“BYRON!” you shouted, struggling to speak over him. You placed both of your gloved hands over his wand arm, lowering it. He jumped, looking between you and Remus with brows bent into a knot of confusion. “You’ve missed a very convincing apology and redemption.”

Leaning over, you grabbed the copy of the Prophet off of the table and showed Byron the small passage about Sirius. As he read, you watched as the furious twist of Byron’s expressions slowly undid themselves.

“Oh.” he said, cheeks reddening as he tucked his wand away.

“That’s more than I managed to say.” you shrugged, glancing at Remus. “Are you alright?”

Remus, white faced, didn’t look like he entirely knew how to respond to you and gave something between a shrug and a thumbs up.

“Right, so…” you sighed, glancing from Byron and then back to Remus. You turned towards him, face set. “You were telling me that you would do anything I needed. To get him back.”

“Anything.” Remus said.

Your mind was blaring with too many thoughts, from exhaustion. You felt Byron’s large hand move to rest on your shoulder and took a large breath. “The candles…” you thought aloud.

“Yes?” Remus said, perking up.

“I need- he works at The Coffin House. His name is Asterius. I need you to bring him-”

“Not here.” Byron interjected softly. “Being Ministry run and all.”

“Right. I need you to bring him to my flat. Yea… bring him to my flat.”

Sirius, you thought as a lash of pain tore through your chest. I’m sorry. I’m coming back.

“Asterius… Darnant?” Remus asked, frowning softly.

“You know him?” Byron asked.

“Vaguely. He was mates with Regulus Black, Sirius’ little brother… I’d see them at school.” Remus raised his eyebrows, as if appraising some passing thought. “He isn’t the most straightforward person. He might not be happy to… comply.”

“He has what I need to do this and understand it more.” you added, a new determination in your tone.

“Then he will come to your flat.” Remus answered, picking his wand back up from the table.

You felt your heart lurch. “Remus-” you started, taking a step towards him. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for how everything has gone. For what you’ve lost.”

“What I’ve lost?” Remus repeated, giving you a soft smile. He looked exhausted. Remus shook his head. “Not many get the privilege to say they’ve found it again.”

[idyllic-affections]

002 DANDELIONS

< previous | next > DANDELIONS :: PROLOGUE ACT II . . . for a tomorrow without tears . . .

     "[Name]," Sara mused, "I'm sure you have better things to do right now than help me clean up, and that's completely okay."

     "I suppose I do," they replied, gently taking the broom held in one of her hands, "but nonetheless, I did say I'd help. I may be a little forgetful sometimes, but I always keep my promises, don't I?"

     Their friend smiled softly, dragging a wet rag over one of her tables that'd somehow stayed in place despite the winds, ridding it of any stray dust or dirt. "Yes, you do. That's one of the things everyone likes so much about you, I think. You're reliable. Thank you."

     "Anytime."

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     By the time they were done helping Sara clean up the Good Hunter, the sun had already risen to the middle of the sky.

     The restaurant did look good as new, though.

     "How could I possibly repay you for this?" Sara wondered, a hand placed tenderly on their shoulder.

     "Think nothing of it," they dismissed kindly. "However... do you happen to have an apple on you?"

     "That I do. Wait here a moment."

     She disappeared into the restaurant briefly, before returning only a few moments later with what they'd asked for. They thanked her before heading off through the streets in the direction of the cathedral.

     Though the on-edge, borderline skittish behavior of the people was unusual for those of this generation, they knew all too well that this is what Mondstadt looked like way back when it'd first risen from nothing. This was truly something they were all too familiar with, and that was something they absolutely did not like. The Mondstadt of this generation was not meant to be so bleak and gloomy. It was not at all meant to resemble what that tyrant had built. This was not what freedom should look like, shackled down by the unbearably heavy chains of looming anxiety and fear.

     However, ruminating in those thoughts and feelings was impossible upon hearing the gentle tunes of a lyre. Such a melody seemed to have a calming effect on them as they gravitated towards the familiar source. They were glad to join the small crowd the green-clad bard had attracted.

     Soon enough, the crowd dispersed.

     When Venti met their gaze, they smiled, handing him the apple they had gotten from Sara. "Take it as an apology for being so busy today."

     "Aww, [Name]—"

     "Wait, wait, wait, hold on a minute!" Paimon interrupted, looking between the two incredulously. "You two know each other? This guy was talking to the dragon! Super weird."

     "I'm aware," they replied nonchalantly. "I was meant to go with him for that, but I had already told Amber I'd go with her for her task."

     "How can you be so casual about that?! Suspicious!"

     "I get that quite often, believe it or not," they chuckled. "Anyway, it's completely normal to have friendships with the Winds, I believe. Hehe... Lord Andrius is quite a fickle being. He never can admit his evident fondness for me."

     "...These two are so weird!" the girl whisper-shouted to Aether.

     "Oh, that's right," Venti suddenly mused. "You're the ones who scared Dvalin away."

     "Wait, Dvalin?" Paimon wondered, "Who's that?"

     "Stormterror," they answered. "It's his real name."

     "Don't you remember?" Aether asked the floating girl. "Lisa already told us about that."

     "Huh?... Oh, right. Most people seem to call him Stormterror." She turned back to Venti. "Why do you call him that? Are you two meant to be close or something?"

     "Oh, so close!"

     "...Hey, Aether, Paimon thinks this guy has a screw loose. She thinks [Name] might too."

     "Ahh..." Aether trailed off, looking between them and their friend. "Hi. How exactly do you two know each other?"

     "Good day, outlander," Venti greeted without missing a single beat. "It seems we meet again. I'm Venti the bard. Three-time winner of the Most Popular Bard of Mondstadt, to be precise. [Name] here is my closest friend in all of Teyvat, of course!"

     "I'm honored," they chuckled, "but I cannot lie and say the feeling is not mutual."

     "So!" the bard chimed. "What do you need from me?"

     "Given you recognize us, Paimon doesn't believe we need to explain any further! Of course it's about Stormterror!" she huffed incredulously.

     "Storm..?"

     "Hey!" the girl hissed. "Cut it with the amnesia act! Aether, show it to him!"

     Aether held out a teardrop crystal that was undoubtedly consumed by abyssal energy at one point, yet it was completely clean now.

     "Oh. Isn't this—"

     "What?!" Paimon gasped. "The crystal has been purified?! When?!"

     "Dvalin, he..." Venti trailed off briefly. "The anguish he feels has brought him to tears."

     "Who can blame him?" they mused. "I certainly don't. Abyssal energy is agonizing, should it enter the bloodstream. Worse, it clouds the mind and feeds off of negativity..." They paused, seemingly trapped in a daze, before snapping out of it. "Anyways, come here, Venti. You look like you could use a hug, yeah?"

     The bard immediately lept into their arms, sighing contentedly when their cloak fell around him. They hummed, draping their arms around his shoulders caringly.

     He was shorter than them by quite a lot, as was the boy his vessel was based off of. They both seemed to like the feeling of being swaddled in their arms like little children.

     "Dvalin was once such a gentle child," Venti lamented softly from his place in their arms, "now so full of rage and suffering. I also came across a teardrop crystal." He held out the crystal, which was absolutely dripping with abyssal energy. Though it was slightly suffocating to be near, they were certain it was worse for the average vision bearer. They'd been through worse. The sight of him holding something outwards from being swaddled in their cloak would be funny, cute even, if not for the current circumstances. "Can you purify it?"

     The impurities drained away, and soon, the crystal sparkled as if the toxins had never been there in the first place by simply being held in Aether's hand.

     "...Fascinating," they murmured. 

     "You... really do have some wonderful abilities," Venti complimented, untangling himself from their arms. He did latch onto their hand though and made it a point to intertwine their fingers. "Someone like you is going to end up getting written into a bard's poem. Oh, a hero so bright, should he stand in the light. Though stand in the shade, and you'll be met by a blade... alas, I've really not the time to compose a melody for you at this moment. Anyway, even if Dvalin is not taken down, his life will still wither away in the breeze. He'll burn himself out in the flames of anger."

     A somber silence befell the group for a long, heavy moment.

     It wasn't until Aether replied that the tension thinned. "...Is there anything I can do to help?"

     They couldn't help but smile softly at his concern.

     "I really must thank you for purifying the teardrop crystal," Venti said, "it has helped me greatly, but [Name] and I have already come to devise our own plan."

     "Oh? And what plan might that be?" Paimon asked, shooting the two of them a suspicious look.

     "I already anticipate the direction this conversation is going," they said. "Save yourself the trouble of asking. I don't think you'll get a good answer at this particular moment."

     "Ehe," the bard beside them laughed, his amusement and delight at both their oh-so accurate statement and their willingness to go along with his antics shown blatantly on display. "Seeing this tear has brought to mind a friend so dear."

     'Vennessa, definitely,' they mused mentally, peering upwards at the sky. 'The darling Lionfang Knight... I wonder how she's doing these days. Perhaps I should visit her temple sometime soon..?'

     "Friend?"

     He only laughed again. "We must be going now." Before they could object—not that they really would have, anyway—he was already dragging them along by the hand. 

     "Hey! Where are you two running off to?!"

     "To the Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero," he replied cheerily. "Bye-bye!"

     Their eyes softened with fondness for the so-called absentee Archon. Subconsciously, they found themselves squeezing his hand, and didn't even flinch when the gesture was returned tenfold. 'Ah... as expected. What am I ever going to do with him?'

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     "You aren't hurting anywhere, are you?" they wondered softly, hands placed firmly on Venti's shoulders. "I know that, as an elemental being, you may have greater tolerance for abyssal energy, but—"

     "[Name]," he called, smiling up at them. They went quiet. "I'm not hurt... ehehe, uh, not anymore, at the very least. Dvalin didn't mean it."

     "Obviously not," they stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—to them, it certainly was. Dvalin was not a violent being. He never was. "The abyss has clouded his judgement with lies. I know that. I just don't exactly like knowing that those toxins reached your blood."

     "It's alright. They're gone now."

     A sigh left through their nose, and their hands dropped to their sides. "...Alright. If you say so."

     After a brief, comfortable silence, they spoke up again.

     "Our intention, if we can't borrow it, is to, ah... reposess the Holy Lyre, right?"

     "Yep!"

     "...Do you mind if I borrow the one you're currently using, then?"

     Immediately, the bard's eyes narrowed with theatrically overdramatic suspicion as he inched away from them. "Oh? Do tell me why you need it?"

     "A simple gut feeling. Something tells me attaining that lyre is going to be a little more complicated than one might think, so should I need to make a, uh, sacrifice..."

     "No! No way! Even this wooden lyre was really expensive, you know!"

     They deadpanned, "Yes, Venti, there is no need to remind the person who literally taught you how to play the majority of the instruments you know that instruments are, in fact, expensive."

     He pouted at that. They were half-tempted to squish his cheeks between their hands akin to how an elderly woman might. "You just don't want to sacrifice your's."

     "...Well, you should know why I'd rather not lose my lyre, even if I don't play it anymore."

     There was a time during which a boy dreaming of and longing for freedom had poured hours of work into carving the intricate designs on their lyre, all just as a gift for every time they got punished for things he did: inspiring rebellion, spreading songs that spoke of free will, everything. They always took the blame for it. They were more than familiar with the cold concrete floors of the prison cells in Old Mondstadt. The least he could do was create something for them—inspired by one of their own gifts to him—during one of the nights that they were gone, locked away from home.

     To lose something like that...

     It was unimaginable. They'd held onto it for over two and a half millenia; how could they possibly let it go now?

     His face softened significantly. "I know. I was only teasing, I promise—I wouldn't dare to ask you to give it up. I'd hate to see it go, too."

     It was then that he handed over his beloved instrument. They tucked it away into their bag for the time being.

     Venti wiped away nonexistent tears, sighing despondently, "Oh, for a bard to part with his dear lyre... you had better make it up to me!"

     "Dont worry. I will." At the crunching of grass underneath someone's steps, they turned, only to see Aether and Paimon approaching.

     The Archon followed their gaze. "Oh? What are you doing here? Though I was just wondering if you would happen to follow us..."

     "I want to know more about the Anemo God," Aether replied.

     They would gladly admit to being curious about how Venti would answer, as if he was not talking about himself.

     "You speak of the God of Anemo, Barbatos? He already disappeared from Mondstadt a long time ago. Liyue and Inazuma's respective gods of Geo and Electro are still present, but Mondstadt has seen many a moon since they last saw their own god. Why do you wish to know about the God of Anemo? Does it have something to do with Dvalin?"

     They were not at all disappointed.

     "Oh..! Ahh..." Paimon stuttered. "It's because gods... um..."

     "Yes," Aether replied. "Someone told me about Dvalin's past."

     "Oh? Was it Lisa?" they inquired.

     The blonde nodded. "Actually, yes."

     "I'm not surprised, then," they hummed. "She's quite well-read, a true scholar, a true Spantamad student at heart. It's a wonder that she chose to return to Mondstadt..."

     "Spantamad? Return?" Aether echoed.

     "Ah, nothing." They waved him off. "Don't mind me. I have a tendency to think out loud."

     "Just how is it that everyone sees Stormterror? I'm quite curious. That said, there's no need to rush... I have not been back in a while," the bard sighed. "It seems there are a few who are... unhappy with my arrival."

     Though it would be easy for either of the immortals, really, to get rid of the Eye of the Storm, both seemed to prefer the idea of seeing the extent of the strange outlander's abilities.

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     "As expected," they mused. "It seems I was right not to doubt your combat abilities, Aether."

     A soft pink tinted the traveler's cheeks. "Thank you."

     "It seems the dragon wasn't the only thing affected by the change in the wind," Venti hummed. "Now then, you were saying Lisa had told you about the dragon?"

     Aether went on to explain what the librarian had told him.

     "Is that so? As [Name] said; quite the scholar she is, that Lisa," the Archon stated. "She's not wrong. The conflict has reached this point only because both sides have resorted to the use of force. His hate, however, did not arise from people not making tribute to the Four Winds, nor was it born from his own nature, but instead came about as a product of his degradation."

     "Degra... dation?" Paimon echoed.

     "The black blood flowing through his heart has been torturing him for years," he elaborated. "That is what allowed him to be led astray by the lies of the Abyss Mage."

     "I think I've heard of them before in Mondstadt..." Aether mused.

     "It would make sense, for they aren't exactly uncommon," they said. "They are from the Abyss Order, an organization composed of various nonhuman beings, all who share an unwavering hatred for humanity. It's not exactly known when they emerged or where they came from, but they simply aren't fond of humanity. It's common for hilichurls to take orders from them."

     They were not keen on lying, but sometimes, it was necessary to. Some things—some ancient nations—were simply not meant to be discussed.

     "[Name] has had their own experiences with the black blood. Before arriving here, I too was like Dvalin, cursed and left to waste, but now before us stands the Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero, the place from which Mondstadt rose. The wind amongst the branches is good. I love the way it smells. Being here with you beneath this great tree feels like when the tear was purified earlier. Like the poison is leaving my body... feels much better now."

     "So..." Paimon began. "How exactly did you two get poisoned?"

     "I was poisoned in a completely separate incident a long time ago. However... I hear that some strange outlander and his emergency food interrupted Venti's meeting with Dvalin earlier. Now, who could that have possibly been?" they mused teasingly.

     "As a result, not only did I not manage to help Dvalin break his curse, but was instead infected myself!" he added, perhaps a bit too cheerily.

     "Oh," Aether squeaked. "Ah... that..."

     "Yes, that was you," they chuckled. 

     "So, to make up for it, you're coming with us to the Cathedral," the bard decided.

     "The Mondstadt Cathedral?" the floating girl repeated. "To do what exactly?"

     A grin spread across their friend's face. "To claim a certain Holy Lyre der Himmel."

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     "So this Holy Lyre der Himmel is..." Paimon trailed off, looking between the two for an answer.

     "It's regarded as one of the most treasured items in Mondstadt, as it was the lyre that Barbatos used to play," they explained. 

     "With it, perhaps I can help Dvalin draw his gentle nature back out of this nightmare he's going through," Venti said.

     "Will it really stop Stormterror from causing more damage?" she wondered.

     "Of course," the bard chimed. "I am the best bard in the world! There's not a single song I do not know, no matter if it's from the past, present, or future. Look me in the eyes. Do you not find me trustworthy?"

     "Look into my eyes," Aether replied. "What is it that you're hiding?"

     "...Look into [Name]'s eyes! Do you not find them trustworthy?"

     Aether hesitated, gazing upwards into their soft yet lusterless eyes for a few moments—this is when he took note of the way their right eye moved slightly out of sync with their left eye; was it a prosthetic?—before nodding. "Fair enough, I guess."

     "So how can we get the Holy Lyre?" Paimon asked.

     "I mean, there is an option to get approval from Master Jean, the Seneschal, and the Community Representatives, and I know they all trust me enough to give me that approval," they sighed, "but the paperwork can take days to process. It's such a bore, and time isn't exactly on our side."

     "Agreed! It's said that it's enshrined deep within the Cathedral, somewhere safe," Venti mentioned. "[Name] and I will go take a look around. You can come if you want."

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     "Let me handle this," the bard declared, approaching Sister Gotelinde.

     "I'll bet five mora that whatever he's planning won't work," they whispered to Aether, who laughed into his palm in response, while Paimon giggled more openly.

     "Hello there, sister!"

     "May the Anemo God bless you, young bard," she greeted sweetly. "How can I help you?"

     "Actually, I know a secret that can save Mondstadt from it's current predicament."

     "Oh, what a blessing from the God of Anemo!... But you should report that to the Knights of Favonius. Why have you come to me?"

     "Ahaha, because you, dear sister, are able to help! I'd like to borrow the Holy Lyre. With it, I'll be able to help Stormterror—"

     "Please see yourselves out."

     "What?!"

     "It's a vicious dragon indeed, but once the Acting Grand Master makes up her mind, nothing can stand in the Knights' way."

     "That's simply not acceptable," Venti objected. "Wouldn't Stormterror end up getting killed that way?"

     "That foolish beast betrayed the Winds! Not even the God of Anemo themselves would forgive it."

     They frowned. "That is no way to speak of one of the Four Winds, Sister Gotelinde, especially as a member of the Church. You should know better."

     Said woman flinched slightly, before clearing her throat. "Yes, I... suppose you're correct... my apologies. My— uh, my point still stands, however."

     "Ugh... please, I beg of you!"

     "I'm afraid not, little bard."

     "Then... I guess I'm left with no other option," the bard sighed. "I cannot hide anymore! My disciples, rejoice! Behold, the God of Anemo, Barbatos, has descended! Shocked, aren't you? Don't you just want to cry out and rejoice? How does it feel to finally meet the God you've been serving?"

     Gotelinde looked unamused. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going back to handle the Cathedral's paperwork now."

     "Wait, Sister Gotelinde," they called. "Please, won't you reconsider? For me?"

     She hesitated, seemingly not keen on denying them after being so sternly reprimanded. "...I cannot, [Name]. As much as I, like the rest of Mondstadt, do respect you, if you do not have the necessary documents, I cannot help you."

     "Wait— ugh..." the Archon sighed defeatedly as she walked off. "She didn't even bat an eyelid." 

     They replied, "She didn't even consider it for my sake... I feel betrayed."

     "Well, I have at least learned what I wanted to know," Venti chimed. "She didn't deny that the Cathedral is enshrining the Holy Lyre. Now, Aether, since you're the hotshot of the Knights of Favonius... maybe you can give it a shot!"

     They lightly patted the Honorary Knight's shoulder. "Best of luck. You'll need it."

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     As expected, Aether failed to retrieve the Holy Lyre. 

     "It didn't work..." Venti sighed. "I knew it."

     "You knew it?" Paimon scoffed.

     "I just wanted to know how influential Aether—the hotshot of the Knights of Favonius—is," he admitted. "You see, the best warrior should always be presented with the best sword, and yet here we are... does the story not make for a fitting ballad?'

     "So what are you trying to say?" Paimon huffed, "That we're not good enough?"

     They chuckled at her blatant offense. She was so easy to irritate. Aether, on the other hand, seemed much more wistful and calm.

     "No, that's not it," Venti denied. "More of a commentary regarding Mondstadt's inability to see the warrior standing right before its very eyes. Very well! Looks like borrowing it is not going to be possible. We're simply going to have to steal it. Today we stand for free will!... any suggestions on just how we steal it?"

     Aether and Paimon only stared in silence.

     "Come now, there's nothing to be afraid of," they hummed. "I already anticipated this situation, and have come up with a plan of my own. Sneaking in late at night is the most ideal."

     "I—" Aether stuttered. "I don't want to steal anything!"

     "It's for the best, Aether," they reassured. "It's not like we aren't going to bring it back, and I don't expect you to go steal something like that alone. I'd be glad to accompany you. Even if we get caught, you are the Honorary Knight and I am Mondstadt's beloved. Talking our way out of it would be simple. So, what do you say?"

     Aether blinked. "I— I'm sorry, wait, hold on a minute." He looked to Venti. "Did you just say you're Barbatos? Did he just say he's Barbatos?"

     "Ah, yes," Venti chuckled. "Seems I did mention that... your point being?"

     "...If you really are a god, then we can't simply abandon you."

     "Interesting," they mused. "Why exactly is it that you're seeking out The Seven? Why should this decision depend so heavily on who or what Venti may or may not be, if you don't mind me asking?"

     "Paimon'll fully fill you in on his background story when we get the time..." she said.

     "Even if you're not a god, I'll help Dvalin anyway," the traveller decided.

     The bard blinked. "Huh?"

     "I will bring you the Holy Lyre der Himmel."

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     Aether found that they were surprisingly good at avoiding the guards' gazes.

     They walked with light, silent steps, despite the heeled nature of their boots. Their breaths were steady and even and came out equally silently. He couldn't help but wonder just how they managed to remain so calm—they were literally stealing what was probably the most heavily guarded item in the nation. What, he wondered, could they have possibly been through to become so skilled at such a thing?

     With their calm leadership, it took barely five minutes to reach the lyre.

     "Pretty, isn't it?" they mused softly, almost nostalgically. Aether could only nod. It was slowly becoming clearer and clearer that they perhaps were not what they seemed.

     Before they could grab it, a Fatui Cicin Mage did.

     "Huh?!" Paimon gasped. "Who're you?!"

     They dashed towards her much faster than Aether or Paimon could, delivering a hard hit to her nose. Though they couldn't see her eyes—courtesy of her mask—they were certain they were watering. They'd been hit hard in the nose before, after all. It was a surefire way to briefly disorient nearly anyone.

     They were quick in switching out the Holy Lyre held loosely in her hands for Venti's wooden one. 

     Thinking she still had the correct instrument, the Fatuus speedily teleported away with a cocky bow and laugh.

     "She disappeared!" Paimon exclaimed frantically.

     "Freeze! What are you doing here?!"

     "That's our cue, traveller!" they exclaimed, pulling their cloak's hood over their head before snatching Aether by the wrist and sprinting off.

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     "Oh no!" Paimon shouted as the trio burst out of the front of the Cathedral. "We're busted! Run!"

     "What?! Follow me!" the bard exclaimed, leaping off of the railing. They, Aether, and Paimon followed closely behind, those who couldn't fly naturally like Paimon deploying their Wind Gliders.

     After a series of aerial twists and turns, they landed in front of Angel's Share. The small group burst through the door.

     "Hi, we'd like a seat at your... ahh... least conspicious table," Venti requested.

     "Uh..." Diluc began, eyeing the group suspciously. "The second floor has fewer customers. You'd be less conspicious up there... but aren't you a bard? Why not sit front and center?"

     The Anemo Archon laughed, "Let's save the paid performance for next time! We'll be heading up now, see you in a bit!"

     After he said that, they ushered the group upstairs, gently leading both Aether and Venti along by the dips in their backs. They peered downstairs when they heard the door slam open again. Two guards belonging to the Knights of Favonius burst into the tavern.

     "Ah, Master Diluc! Have you seen three thieves around?"

     "What happened?" the man questioned. "Why have you mobilized so many guards?"

     "Haven't you heard, Master Diluc?! Three thieves were trying to steal the Holy Lyre!"

     "Oh? How odd," Diluc commented in response ro the guard.

     "Isn't it? The Holy Lyre is a treasure that was played by the God of Anemo themselves! Such a precious piece of cultural heritage—"

     Diluc cut him off. "Why would one want to steal something they can't sell off? Would pay better to steal from my cellars..."

     Immediately, an annoyed huff left their lips, but they said nothing. Venti only pat their back in an attempt at soothing them.

     "Huh?"

     "Sorry, off topic. I belive they headed that way."

     "Understood! Thank you, Master Diluc!"

     The guards left as quickly as they appeared. Venti descended the stairs first, with them and Aether following.

     "Today I think I'll have a glass of..."

     "You can put down that bottle you stole from behind the counter."

     The bard turned to face the man with a grin. "...something cold."

     "Right," Diluc scoffed. "I want answers."

     "...Let me finish my drink first? I'll pay you— well, with a performance. Oh! Better yet, [Name] will pay you with mora!"

     "Hm, maybe I will," they hummed teasingly, "or not. Who knows? You can't rely on me for mora all the time, Venti."

     "It's not about the money," the man dismissed. "You seem too young to be drinking."

     "No need to worry," Venti interjected, "When I started drinking, you were still—"

     "I assure you," they cut Venti off, shooting him a look of warning, as if telling him to choose his words more carefully, "Master Diluc, that Venti is of age. I wouldn't allow him to so much as walk in the direction of your tavern if he wasn't. Surely you know that I don't take those things lightly?"

     Aether spoke up before Diluc could. "How about answering my question first?"

     "Oh, you wanna ask, 'who's this?' Am I right? He is Master Diluc, the boss of... ah, the owner of this tavern. He's very famous," the Anemo Archon introduced. "By the way, his dandelion wine is one of my favorites."

     "I'm the only reason he can ever afford it," they mentioned. "He's too broke to buy it on his own."

     Aether and Paimon both chuckled.

     "I just heard about some thieves from the guards," Diluc stated, arms crossed over his chest. "For the record, I like your guts for trying to steal the Holy Lyre der Himmel, even if you are fools... but we don't often get to see people like you."

     "It wasn't us that stole it!" Paimon shouted. "The real thief is still out there!"

     "Oh," they laughed, gently taking the Holy Lyre out from their bag, mindlessly plucking a few notes on the instrument out of habit. "I'm sorry. It seems everyone's still under the impression that I failed to steal the lyre."

     "What?!" Paimon squealed, shocked. "How?!"

     "Ah... while I am glad you managed to steal it, [Name], I guess I won't be getting my lyre back?" Venti asked, gingerly taking the lyre from their hands.

     "Unfortunately not." They smiled apologetically. "My apologies. I'll replace it."

     Diluc obseved the interaction in shocked silence, before sternly demanding, "Now then, answers. Why did you steal the Holy Lyre?"

     "You sure you wanna know?" Venti teased. "It could implicate you in the affairs of the Knights of Favonius!"

     "That's fine." Diluc sighed, "I somehow always end up implicated in their affairs."

     "If I tell you the story with a performance, will you believe me?"

     "It depends. I'll make my own judgement."

     "Hm, very well, then! Let me put on a show..."

< previous | next > this chapter has 3k words. do not repost my work on other sites (wattpad, ao3, etc). cross-posted on quotev.

[sol-consort]

Man FUCK that bitch ass fucking assassin motherfucker I hope he rots. Sorry he pissed me off to no end.

Also yeah FemShep’s VA is considered the better VA of the Shepards which makes sense MaleShep is voiced by Mark Meer who hadn’t done much voice work before, his biggest role being Cyric in Baldur’s Gate II, and FemShep was voiced by Jennifer Hale who had been at it for almost 20 years at the time. It wasn’t just Jennifer Hale either, Anderson being Keith David and Joker being Seth Green who had both been doing it over 20 years. I liked MaleShep’s voice though and never had a problem with it because it’s very main heroy and recognizable like I’d instantly know that it was Shepard if I heard it.

I knew that the series wouldn’t be exactly up with the times because it was 2007-2012 but Jesus I had no idea that FemShep gets harassed so much.

I didn’t get a reconcile scene on the Citadel since I didn’t romance anyone in ME1 I went into the series with Tali on my mind as my definitive romance.

I don’t think Thane praying for you instead himself is unique to his romance? Or at least I remember something similar happening maybe it was his son.

You can’t hit on EDI as MaleShep I’m pretty sure don’t remember that being an option however you can still hit on Joker as MaleShep I remember seeing that option and going “why would I say that?” Also I’m surprised you never mentioned the Joker segment of Mass Effect 2 where you sneak around the ship as Joker that section surprised the shit out of me.

Oh yeah a fun little fact, remember the show Once Upon a Time I’ve mentioned a couple times when talking about fairy tales? The actor who plays Kaiden was in that show and played the show’s version of Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio. I don’t remember what happened to Cricket in the show though. He may have just stopped being relevant so they never brought him up again since the show just fucking loved doing that.

Is the hot assassin guy supposed to be unlikeable? I liked him so far, like ngl, plus he's pretty cool. Evil living weapons of destructions, my beloveds.

And yeah, i really like femshep, but it is pretty cool of them to give maleshep VA a chance for such a big character. Sure, it could've been better, but he probably did the best he could with the skills he had at the time, and it did appeal to some people!

And man I'm just lucky I actually enjoy these things ingames, like I am down to being a whore and flirting with everyone so it doesn't bother me when the npcs forcefully flirt with you bc you picked a woman. What bothers me is that the fact it's only bc you picked a woman, and just because I wanted it doesn't mean other people do and it might make them very uncomfortable. There are several mods to remove the sexual harassments femshep gets, I wish there was one to remove it for EDI tho.

We should all have a choice, is what I'm saying. It feels like femshep was made to appeal to straight guys who might play her as an outsider observer. Same with some lesbian characters, too, ngl- not all of them, but the game has its moments where it makes me realise oh this was put here for a straight dude to gawk at. Meanwhile, maleshep feels the proper self insert badass at times. Really hate that.

That's why I like picking NB options whenever they're present, you're free from expectations and the devs aren't sure what to make of you so they don't try to appeal to a certian demographic and just write your character as a character.

You did Tali romance? Hell yeah she is an amazing character and her relationship with Shepard feels phenomenal. Like a scientist princess and her knight in shining armour, amazing. Plus she is all adorable when she talks about engines and how we get to help her so many times.

Apparently her and Garrus end up together if you don't romance her, but I haven't seen it yet. She always felt close to Shepard, especially in the second game where she is the first friendly face you see.

I haven't met her yet in ME3, still doing side errands. I am very very broke and everything is very very expensive and I miss sugar daddy illusive man pls take me back, the alliance became more stingy than I remember or inflation is hitting hard.

Fuck I hat like 999999 something credits in the first game, why couldn't it tranfer over??

And Thane!! My heart! He even prays for you when he's not romanced??? That's it, he is legit the most precious character and no one else comapres. I would die for Thane, I would kill everyone on the Normady for Thane.

But I know Thane would forgive me If I picked Grunt over him bc my son which just makes Thane the most amazing man ever, DRELL ARE SUPERIOR I TELL YOU.

Also so far Drell worship Hanar (kinda) and Hanar worship protheons (kinda) and Javik likes humans(he is all current protheon population)

So by association! Drell and Humans are conncted, and no, I will not give up my tank of copium. Go buy your own. Idk what overdosing is, I have insomnia I forgot.

And aww we can't hit on EDI :( i would've treated her better than Joker.

Yeah I had the same reaction to the flirting with Joker line but just went for it because what's the worst that can happen? He says no and we laught it off.

Imagine if the worst was him retiring from being your pilot and you get soma rando driving the Normady around who now runs at half the speed and takes twice as much gas plus occasionally breaks down and you have to pay 100k credits for repairs.

Oh also then there is this one thing I am sure is exclusive to femshep.

You can sleep with Javik. The protheon. Yes.

But it's not a full romance :"(

He has four eyes I wonder if he has four-

I heard about once upon a time, the show. But never watched it.

I did however watch a random person talk about it in a video essay because I prefer that over watching shows.

This one.

It was fun, I'm not big on fairytales but I enjoyed hearing about it.

The Joker sneak section in ME2 didn't resonate with me much for some reason. It was nice but I didn't feel the pressure at all and with EDI constantly talking it got annoying and I just wanted it to be over.

His jokes were nice but the moment of trusting EDI didn't hit the same way it should've. It didn't feel endearing or earnest.

The sudden flip in their relationship afterwards was too jarring.

I prefer ME3 EDI and Joker dynamic over ME2. However I hate how EDI is becoming a "born sexy yesterday" character by the game when her core as a character is so profound and genuine. She wants to know her purpose, what it means to be alive and all the other characters mention about her is her body which is bleh.

Even some of her dialogues with Joker is just overplayed sex jokes. It's all of her amazing writing vanishes the moment it's not just her and Shepard in a conversation.

Kaidan's voice actor is great! He even stood out to me in the first game. You notice how much more convicnising and immersive his delivery was over the other characters, almost outshined ME1 femshep even.

It's like the dialogue and the way he delievers it fit perfectly. If I just read it, then I get a completely different impression.

The game doesn't have bad voice actors it just has very bad delivery from some characters. It's when someone keeps a constant tone and doesn't portray any emotions or adds any personalisation into the dialogue. It feels tone deaf a lot when what the character is speaking about is something intimiate, yet it sounds the same as asking about the weather.

Still, it is nostalgic in a way, this was extremely common in older games.