#it’s sad I’ll remember I want to pray when doing a thing then forget five minutes later as soon as I’m done

[copperhearths]

I miss praying but I literally can’t keep any thoughts in my brain for more than ten minutes this year :/

[rafescoke]

All I Ask ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

masterlist

#Part 2

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself in the arms of her best friend’s brother after finding her boyfriend cheating on her

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, hella angst, JJ being an extreme asshole

A/N: you guys are truly amazing. thank you so much for the countless amount of love & support for my last works, i love you! 

p.s, my request box is always open! go ahead and drop any ideas bae

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re okay?”

(Y/N) emitted a laugh, her eyes focusing on the road, but her mind was somewhere else. She cleared her throat, “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Want to talk about it?” he said, and she noticed the grogginess behind his voice. She felt bad now, knowing that she had woken him up, but she was desperate for someone.

She couldn’t go to the pogues; her only friends, not when they knew. They knew all along about Kie and JJ but they didn’t try to talk to her. She thought about Pope, how he had looked so nervous around her since a month ago and how she had thought of it as nothing more than anxiety for his new upcoming scholarship application.

(Y/N) groaned, tightening her fingers around the steering wheel. Why had she been so naive? Why couldn’t she realize the signs sooner?

“Are you okay?” Rafe asked, suddenly jolting up from his bed when he realized how quiet she has gotten. Ever since they got close 4 years ago, there was never a long silence between them as (Y/N) always has a random topic to discuss about. He would tell her that he doesn’t care, but he truly likes the new information she’ll give him.

Like how the word ‘who’ is the oldest English word in the world. 

“Like, the owl?” he asked, scrunching his face. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, licking the slowly melting ice cream, and Rafe had a sudden thought of stealing her snack.

“No. God, you’re stupid. It’s who.”

“Yeah, the owl,” he grunted, thinking hard. (Y/N) looked at him with her bored eyes again, and Rafe took a quick glance at the dripping ice cream.

“No, Rafe, that’s woo. I’m talking about who.”

“You should write it.”

Rafe watched as she used her pointer to write the word ‘who’ on the table using her ice cream. Rafe laughed, finally understanding the joke, and he smiled wider when she returned a grin.

“No,” her voice croaked, and she could feel her tears slowly rolling down her red cheeks. God, she felt stupid. Why would she cry over stupid stuff like this? She had told Rafe before that she couldn’t understand why Bella Swan was too sad over Edward’s flight, saying how Bella had Jacob all along to help her get over him. Rafe rolled his eyes at this statement, muttering something along the words of ‘this is a movie’, ‘Edward is hotter’, and ‘Jacob look like that cashier guy at the hardware store’.

But she understood everything clearly now because she too, felt like staying in her room for the rest of her life. 

“What happened? Do you need me to pick you up?” Rafe asked again, finally standing up from his bed and walking towards his bedside table to retrieve his car keys. He rubbed his eyes, still so tired, but he wanted to make sure she was safe.

“It’s alright, Rafe, you don’t have to pick me up, it’s just, um-” she took a deep breath, “Can I come over?”

Rafe stopped in his tracks, not sure if he had heard her right. He waited for a few seconds, “Huh?”

“Can I come over?” (Y/N) bit her lips, making a turn towards the road heading to Figure 8 from the Cut. The road was deserted, and she looked at the dashboard to check on the time.

2.43 a.m.

“Yeah, sure, um, when are you coming? I just have to wait for you, so you know the new passcode of the backdoor.”

“You guys changed it already?” she asked, and she was surprised to find a smile creeping onto her face. “When was the last time I came over? 2 months ago?”

“9,” Rafe muttered, “But it’s okay. I’ll wait for you, okay?”

“Okay,” she released a breath, “Thank you, Rafe.”

“Yeah,” was all he said before ending the line.

Maybe she did missed him. 

When she arrived before the white building of the Camerons’ household, she could see a figure sitting on the front porch, bending over something that (Y/N) assumed to be a phone.

Rafe was mindlessly playing Candy Crush, just starting on his third level when he heard a car door being shut. He jumped to his feet, ready to greet the girl, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the state of her.

She was still in her party clothes, her (H/C) hair in a messy ponytail and her makeup all smudged. He tried to think of a joke, wanting to lighten up the mood, but his deed was interrupted when she finally had him in a tight hug.

“Whoa,” Rafe exclaimed, putting his arms around her waist. He let her stayed in that position for a few more seconds, liking the warmth, and finally parted after he cleared his throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, um-” she sighed, not looking into his eyes. “I got cheated on.”

Rafe was glued to his spot as he watched her wiped her tears with her sleeve, looking down to her glittery blue slippers. He couldn’t remember the amount of times he had prayed for his (Y/N) and JJ to call it off, but he didn’t hope for any kind of cheating to occur.

“I’m so sorry,” Rafe said, pulling her into a hug again. He rested his chin against the top of her head, letting the scent of strawberry wafted into his nostrils. (Y/N) cried against his chest, her face all scrunched up, and when she pulled away for the second time, she noticed the tear stains on his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she rushed, trying to remove the stain using her fingers even though she knew it was impossible. She was too tired to think logically; she felt like laying in bed and watching Love Island until the day she dies.

“You’re still stupid, even when you’re all fucked up,” Rafe sighed, but he watched her from the corners of his eyes in case his words had struck her, but she looked like she understood the joke. She smiled weakly, pulling on the hem of her dress that had rode up down.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling her by her wrist as he guided her through the backdoor to his room. He showed her the new passcode proudly, mouthing how it was his birthday date this time, and (Y/N) had emitted a small laugh.

Screw maybe, she did missed him.

“And still a mess,” she sighed, plopping onto Rafe’s blue bedsheet as she took a look around the room. The painting of a random boat in the middle of an ocean was still askewed, and his trash can were piling up. She made a face, pointing at the cause of disturbance.

“You have to clean that.”

“Sorry I couldn’t let you stay in our five stars suite, ma’am,” he said, finding an old t-shirt in his cupboard. “You know, since you barged in this hotel at this time, all there’s left is the 3 stars suite.”

“You’re calling this a 3 stars suite?” she laughed, tilting her head to one side. “Rafe, this room can’t even be rated.”

“Whatever,” he pulled out a yellow t-shirt, putting it aside before looking for a new pair of boxers. “Is your room still pink with that weird strawberry pound cake smell?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, crossing her legs. She was glad there were no crumbs on the bed, or else she would rather sleep in her car. “And that smell’s great. My sensory organs are blocked by all the dust you’re collecting in here.”

Rafe grinned, liking how she was back to her old self, and handed her the pair of boxers and the yellow t-shirt. (Y/N) muttered a quick thanks, her feet lightly padding against the carpeted floor towards his bathroom. She closed the door, leaning against the sink, watching her reflection in the mirror.

She did look miserable, and her eyes were all red and puffy. She always hate how puffy her eyes would get after a nice session of crying, having to endure the pain of soothing it down again. 

She shook her head, not wanting to spend anymore time thinking about JJ or Kie or the pogues who had betrayed her, and tried to reach for the zip of her dress. After a few good tries she sighed, relaxing her cramped arms. The familiar yet uneasy pain coursed through her veins, and without wanting to abuse herself anymore, she turned the doorknob.

“Rafe? Can you help me?”

“Huh? Yeah,” he came to the door, closing his eyes before he halted right in front of the object. “Are you naked?”

“No, can’t seem to be, too. Can you help me unzip?”

Rafe opened his eyes, feeling his heartbeat quickening, and with trembling hands, slowly unzipped her dress and stopping directly at the curve of her bottoms, silently admiring the view. 

He cleared his throat, shaking his head at the childish behaviour he just found himself in. “Yeah, done.”

“Thanks, Rafe,” she smiled, and turned to close the door again. Rafe listened to her breathing in the bathroom for a few more seconds, knowing how hard she was trying to ignore the aching feeling eating off of her. He wished he could take her pain away an make it his, knowing that at least he’ll have an excuse to snort more coke to ‘forget the pain’. 

When she got out of the bathroom, Rafe had to stop himself from drooling over her in his shirt and boxers. She always look good, but she had never looked better in nothing but his yellow shirt and his boxers. 

Rafe closed the light, remembering how she hates sleeping with any form of light either it’s tiny or big, and settled himself on the sofa. He wanted to give her space, not wanting to rush anything, knowing how tired she must felt from all the things she had to endure today.

“Rafe, we’re not 10. You can sleep on the same bed as I am,” she sighed, turning to face the other side. Rafe stood up, thanking the gods above, and settled for his new room.

“We never sleep in the same bed before,” he said, pulling the covers to shield himself from the cold. (Y/N) snorted at this statement, still not looking at him or even turning to face him.

The closest thing they have done to sleep right next to each other was in the car during a road trip, and when they woke up, they were both throwing disgusted faces and pretending to vomit.

“Stop it, you guys look stupid,” Sarah groaned, giving them a quick look over her shoulder. Rafe pulled his middle finger from under the blanket he was sharing with (Y/N), causing her to snort and struggling to hide her laugh.

. . .

“So yeah, that’s how you hit it.”

“You’re bluffing,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, taking over the club and watching the small hole in the distance, squinting her eyes. She took a step back, licked her teeth, and gave Topper the club back.

“See? I told you I’m right!” he exclaimed happily, clasping his hands together. He returned to the game, focusing on his goal, and hit the golf ball.

“That’s fine, I guess,” (Y/N) announced when he came back to the resting area, “For beginners.”

Rafe snorted, downing his mineral water before handing Topper the same bottle. Topper grunted at him, muttering how it’s unhygienic, but he took a full swing of it anyways, being so thirsty after sitting under the sun for hours long.

“We’re glad you’re back with us, (Y/N),” Topper smiled, removing his cap and fanning himself with the clothing. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he looked at Rafe’s expression, he quickly shut his mouth.

He wanted to ask her if she ever missed their old clique when she was with the pogues, but Rafe knew better. It had been 3 weeks since the incidence, and she had been doing so well in coping with the situation. They had been inseparable ever since, always attached to the hips everywhere they go; he couldn’t let one tiny mistake slip that can cause her another breakdown.

“Hey,” Kelce jogged to them, smiling apologetically at Rafe and Topper before placing a quick kiss on (Y/N) ‘s cheeks. (Y/N) smiled, knowing how sweet and gentle Kelce is, almost glad he still does the same thing to her even after they had not been hanging out for a year.

“You’re not dressed for the occasion,” Topper rolled his eyes, “And late. We’re already packing up, man.”

“I know, but I’m wondering if you guys would like to listen to Cage The Elephant this evening by the beach,” he explained, still heaving from his previous activity. He had drove straight from his home to the country club after getting 4 tickets to the show, excited to show his friends what he had gotten for her.

(Y/N) snorted, throwing her arms into the air. “Fuck off, Kelce. There’s no way they’re coming down to Obx.”

Kelce sighed, taking out his phone before showing her the proof in his photos. (Y/N) grinned, trying to contain herself, and looked at Rafe who seemed to be smiling as well.

“Thanks, Kelce,” she laughed, pulling him into a hug. They made her happy, and all the negative thoughts she had about them during her brief friendship with the pogues suddenly evaporating into the air. She squealed, jumping wildly, and she swore she has never felt this happy before.

Just them four. Like the old times.

Four hours later, (Y/N) took a step back when they arrived at the beach, the memory of what happened three weeks ago suddenly rewinding in her head. Rafe noticed how quiet she had been, and pulled her aside while Topper and Kelce went to check on the stage.

“Are you okay?”

(Y/N) bit her lips, nodding. She ran her fingers over the penguin charm Rafe had gotten her a week prior, saying how it resembles him when he sees her. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at him during that surprising moment, touched yet confused at the story behind the penguin charm.

“Okay. Do you need a drink?” he asked again, staring into her eyes. She shook her head, wetting her lips and putting on her usual smile. Rafe grinned at her, muttering how she’s doing so good, all while guiding her towards their two other friends.

“(Y/N)?”

(Y/N) turned to look at the source, not thinking much. She almost fell to the ground when she saw the person responsible, but Rafe still had his arms around her. He turned to check on her again, but followed her gaze when he noticed she was staring at the opposite direction.

“What the fuck?” Rafe yelled, pushing JJ’s chest with so much anger that he toppled over to John B. Sarah yelped, pulling Kie to her side, watching as her brother walked towards them furiously. 

“Chill, man, I just want to talk to her,” he said, taking a deep breath. He noticed the crowd starting to notice them, and his eyes landed on a certain girl who was held up by Topper and Kelce, both asking if she was okay.

“Fuck off, pogue,” Rafe said, his eyes stern as he stared over JJ and his group of friends. “You have nothing to say to her.”

As he turned to return to his friends, his chest heaving from the near-fight he almost encounter with JJ, he bended to (Y/N)’s height to check on her state. Her eyes were glassy, her face red.

“So you’re fucking them all now like a whore?” JJ shouted, loud enough for everyone else around them to gasp, and some already had their phones out. (Y/N) was shocked at this statement, frozen on her feet, not knowing what on earth would make JJ say that to her.

He was never mean to her, even when they had a fight. He yelled at her sometimes, sure, but she had been the one yelling first. He never called her anything of that sort, not even during sex, where she had given him her full consent.

“You’re crazy,” she muttered, her lips trembling. “Go to hell.”

“No, no, because it has always been easy for you, right? You broke up with me, got on with Rafe, leave your own friends and come back to the country clubs?” he laughed, and she flinched at his words. If JJ had meant the pogues as her friends, then he was totally wrong.

“Fuck off, pogue,” Topper stepped out, and before he could finish his sentence, JJ landed a full punch on his face, causing him to fall onto the ground with a thud.

(Y/N) screamed, getting to his side as Rafe returned JJ’s gesture. Topper laid on the ground with his nose starting to bleed, causing (Y/N) to panic while she rummaged through Rafe’s backpack he had left on the ground for clean tissues.

Topper groaned, keep wanting to get up, but (Y/N) held him in place, not letting her friend go and hurt himself more just for her. She cried while she tried to wipe the blood, hearing the fight behind her.

“Fuck you! You stupid pogue! You should be in jail like your dad!”

Something cracked in JJ as he yelled something back in pure anger. He punched, kicked, slapped and hit Rafe who was already on the ground, spitting blood.

“JJ! That’s enough,” Pope pulled him back, trying to contain the wild animal as he thrashed to escape. He yelled more curses at Rafe while Pope tried his best to pull him away, obviously not done with hitting the boy laying on the ground.

(Y/N) cried, running towards Rafe’s side, cupping his face and looking into his swollen eyes. She groaned when Rafe’s laugh filled the air, not believing how he was still joking in a state like this.

“I’m okay,” he said, his breath ragged. “Don’t cry. I’m okay.”

Rafe stood up slowly and looked at the direction of the still thrasing JJ, hearing his muffled shouts with his arms around (Y/N) ‘s waist. He held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder, still trembling.

“Let’s go home?” he asked, and (Y/N) didn’t need to be told twice to follow him into his car. As disappointed as she was that she didn’t get the chance to see her favourite band, she wanted to take care of Rafe, who had been there since the day she found out about Kie and JJ.

The clock struck 12 in the morning and the grandfather clock in the living room chimed as Rafe groaned, feeling a certain girl with trembling hands and tired eyes gently wiping a cotton pad across his cut. 

“Fuck! I said slowly,” he grunted, closing his eyes to decrease the pain. (Y/N) bit her lips, trying to concentrate all the while trying to contain her laugh. He hissed again when she dabbed on his cut, this time with his fingers gripping tightly around her wrist.

“I said slowly.”

“I’m doing it slow, asshole,” she smiled, and felt him softened when she finally threw the last cotton pad. She pulled the covers to his chin, fixing the front part of hair before going to the bathroom to wash her hands. When she came back, she found him still awake with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

“I really need you to sleep,” she sighed, “To heal your pretty face.”

Rafe grinned and though (Y/N) tried her hardest not to smile back, she couldn’t deny the warm feeling settling in the pits of her stomach. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

There was no use denying it anymore.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, getting into the space beside him. “Even when you are all fucked up.”

(Y/N) could sense his smile even when she didn’t look at him, knowing how soft he usually end up being when she compliments him. She turned to look at him.

“Are you serious about not wanting a girlfriend?”

Rafe turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised. His insides exclaimed happily, liking the way his words had struck her. He meant what he said, but that statement didn’t apply to (Y/N). 

“Why?”

“Just asking,” she shrugged, and made a move to touch his cut. He hissed, feeling a sharp pain soaring in him, but she looked so peaceful trying to figure out his wound.

“You can kiss them to make them feel better,” he grinned, and watched as she groaned, trying to hide her face against the pillow. Rafe laughed, and turned the lamp beside him off, knowing that he shouldn’t push it and leave her be.

Just as he was about to drift into a peaceful sleep, he felt her soft lips against his, to which it was quick and gentle before she pulled away, giggling.

“4 years.”

“Huh?” (Y/N) questioned, still smiling from the kiss she just initiated a few seconds ago. She couldn’t contain herself; he looked so peaceful, so sweet, and so handsome. She didn’t know why she hadn’t kissed him sooner.

“I waited for that since 4 years ago.”

“Now you’re just pushing it, Rafe.”

Rafe grinned against the darkness, and felt his heart soaring. “Can we kiss again?”

“Tomorrow,” she stated, and Rafe laughed.

Tomorrrow. The next day. Next week. 

He didn’t care - as long as he will finally have her by his side. 

-

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[thebiggestfan1]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)

part two here

part three here

word count: 1860 words

TW: language, angst (?)

let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure

...

It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.

Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.

Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.

Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.

So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.

The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.

"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.

"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."

"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."

"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?

"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.

"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."

"Really? I've been there for a few years."

"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.

Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.

"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.

But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.

You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.

It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.

...

"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.

Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.

"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.

Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.

"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.

"Five years," you said.

Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.

"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.

Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."

"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.

"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.

Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.

You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.

The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.

You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing.  Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.

You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.

There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.

Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?

Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...

Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.

"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.

"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.

"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.

"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."

Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.

You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.

Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.

"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.

"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."

You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.

"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.

...

On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.

You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.

The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.

Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.

"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."

You tucked it in your pocket without a word.

"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."

It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.

"I will." you promised.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.

"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."

Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Matt."

...

The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.

You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.

Dear Y/N,

I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.

I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.

He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.

So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.

I love you,

Matt

With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.

That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.

The phone rang once before he picked it up.

"Y/N? What is it?"

A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.

"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."

"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"

"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."

[shelbazoidz]

Lady Dimitrescu x Reader, Teacher AU (WIP)

 because I have no self control or shame apparently

Your pen works over the previous day's homework as the clock ticks on the wall. Periodically you'll look up and see Cassandra with her brow furrowed as she erases something. She asked for the first ten minutes to work on the math problems on her own before you helped her. That hadn't been your initial plan but the twelve year old made a convincing argument so you let her work. Although it didn't look like it was going too well. Since there were five more minutes left you still respected her wishes.

"This is stupid!" The sudden outburst nearly makes you jump as you look up from your papers.

"What's wrong Cassandra?" You ask, moving from around your desk.

"Bela and Dani get to go do fun things after school and I'm stuck here because I'm too dumb to do math." Cassandra sits back in her chair glaring down at the worksheet as if it's taunting her. There are frustrated tears brimming in her eyes.

You squat down next to the desk. Her pencil is gripped so tightly you think it might break. You slowly take it from her hand and gently put it down.

"Cassandra, look at me." You say softly but firm enough that she eventually looks up at you with watery eyes.

"You are not dumb. Everyone struggles with something and that's perfectly normal. Okay?"

"Okay." She replies, still sounding sad.

"Can I tell you a secret?" You offer and she brightens a little.

"Yes."

"I struggled with math all the way until college." Your admission has her giving you a suspicious expression.

"You did? But you're a math teacher?" She says a little confused, still looking as if she didn't believe you.

"It's true." You laugh lightly at the questioning gaze. "I finally fell in love with it my first year of college and knew I wanted to teach by my second."

"I don't get people that like math." She looks back to the paper on the desk.

"How about we work through this first problem together?" You test and she chews on her lip before nodding.

"Alright." There's a smile that returns to her face as you start going over the problem.

The rest of your time together goes smoothly and Cassandra is actually able to do the rest on her own by the time you go through the first few together.

"Cass!!" A voice calls and you both look up seeing Daniela come bounding into the room with Bela trailing behind her. "Time to go. Mother is picking us up today." Her words make Cassandra beam. You stand from your seat as she quickly packs all of her things. Once she swings her book bag over her shoulder you grab the keys to your room and motion to the door.

"Come on girls, I'll walk you out." You go down the hallways with the chattering girls in tow, holding open the main door as they file past you. There's a car waiting out front. A woman is leaning against it and your mouth goes dry at the sight of her.

Your mind hadn't even registered that you'd be meeting Lady Dimitrescu right now. The other teachers had mentioned her a few times, always sounding a little fearful. You thought it was ridiculous you had to add 'Lady' to her name, but they urged you that it was a necessity. Now that you're looking at her you couldn't imagine calling her anything else.

She slides the sunglasses off her face and makes eye contact with you. All thoughts leave your mind when that enchanting gaze is on you. Her face is partially shadowed by the hat on her head and you swear it looks like her eyes were glowing for a moment but as soon as you blink it's gone.

"Mother!" Bela shouts, the three girls dash towards her. Lady Dimitrescu smiles fondly at them as they crash into her.

"Hello girls. How was your day?" She greets and is immediately bombarded with three voices talking at once. "Alright alright, I can only listen to one story at a time. We can chat on the way home." She says kissing each of them on the cheek before the girls gleefully pile into the back of the car.

Her eyes look to you again and she comes over. It strikes you how insanely tall she is. She has to be the tallest woman...no person you've ever met. You actually have to tilt your head up to meet her eyes when she's in front of you. It takes all of you to not outright stare at the perfectly tailored white pants suit she's wearing.

"Thank you for walking them out." She says with a smile.

"It wasn't a problem." You reply, surprised at how flustered you are. By the smirk on her lips you know she notices but she doesn't comment on it. Instead her eyes scan over your own attire and you shift a little under that piercing gaze. Something flashes in her eyes but it's gone so quickly you can't figure out what it was.

"Are you new? I don't believe we've met." She meets your eyes again.

"I started a few weeks ago." It's taking all your brain power to remember how to speak.

"You did now?" The velvety smooth tone of her voice has your mind going places it really shouldn't be right now. "What is your name?" She asks.

"Ms...Ms…" You practically forget your own last name when the scent of her floral perfume fills your nose. Eventually the name tumbles out of you. She repeats it, the sound makes your heart flutter a bit.

"Ah, so that's you. It's lovely to finally meet you. I'm Lady Dimitrescu. My girls have spoken fondly of you." She holds out her hand and you pray yours isn't sweating as you take it.

"I'm glad. They're wonderful to have in class." You reply trying to keep your voice steady.

"That's good to hear." She looks down at her watch and frowns slightly as if annoyed to have to leave. "Well I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

"Me too." You reply almost too quickly, mentally kicking yourself. She smirks at you again before placing her sunglasses back on. Wordlessly she walks back around the car and elegantly slides into the front seat.

You didn't know it was possible to be elegant doing something so simple.

She gives you another nod, the girls waving happily at you from the backseat. You smile and wave back as they pull off.

"Holy shit." You finally let out a breath.

Any more interactions with Lady Dimitrescu might actually kill you.

(This is actually out now if y’all are interested)

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 02  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00   01

⇢ Word Count : 

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots. 

A missed call from your uncle. 

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb.  She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong. 

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at  Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

 “You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’.  As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a  little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.” 

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “  You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. 

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead.  A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door.  You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

[wyn-n-tonic]

We Can Stay Like This Forever

Word Count: 2,385 Warnings: Uh... yearning. A crumb of smut. Dialogue heavy bullshit tbh. Author's Note: God okay, I've been sitting on this for like a month now? I wrote this when I couldn't focus on my own characters anymore and my brain needed to visualize parts of the scene I was trying to write using the body language of a character I already know and love so well. This is written in second person but the reader has a name. It was an experiment dashed out in a drunken fervor that made my editor weep. Anyway, if you see any of these lines in a book one day... no you don't.

MASTERLIST

“Javi, I haven’t loved you since I was twent—“

“That's bullshit and you know it,” he interrupts, voice coming out hard but arms crossed tighter than they have been all night, replacing the pressure of kevlar he’s so used to. Protective, defensive, stopping the bullets from reaching him where it matters the most.

Your lips are raw from dragging your teeth across them but biting down is the only thing that stops the tears from springing to the surface. You never thought you’d see him again, you never thought he’d be standing in your kitchen only strides away; two for him, four for you. You saw the news coming out of Colombia, heard it in the supermarket passed from ear to ear straight from his dad’s mouth. Javier Peña was the walking dead.

Javi left Lorraine for you. You gave him a choice and he made it and you, being certain he’d lean the other way, couldn’t live with that guilt. When you wrote that first letter, you didn’t expect a response. You just wanted to apologize, you wanted him to know that you were sorry. You didn’t expect to hear his voice on the other end weeks later when you picked up the phone. Hell, you had pushed the letter so far out of your mind that you’d forgotten you’d included your number.

And now he’s standing in front of you, tangible as ever. No longer just the boy you loved but a man aged so roughly by sun and stress that you are breaking within wishing that you had been there to smooth it all over.

“Goddamn it, Clara,” that hard tone reaches towards you again but he loosens his stance, the toned arms still holding close to his body but the tension bottoming out to his exhaustion, “are you going to say anything or are you going to just keep looking at me like I’m a fucking ghost?”

“Is that not what you are?” Your voice is broken when you find it again, the tears really do come now. “A ghost from my past come back to haunt my bad decisions? Tell me I fucked up?”

“Is that what you think I’m here for? Is that why you think I came to you first thing instead of my family?” He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and drags a hand through his hair, pinning you in place with his eyes. “Can I smoke in here?”

“I thought you quit.”

“Yeah well,” another exhale, the slightest hint of laughter on his lips, “I thought a lot of things I’ve been wrong about too.”

And god, those eyes. Simultaneously the warmest, softest brown but so black they look like blown out pupils. Like he’s the one who’s been snorting the cocaine, not busting those that do. You don’t even register the insult before nodding your head. What’s a little cigarette smoke when you run the risk of him walking out that door and not coming back?

But isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that the purpose of this conversation? Are you not being the same bitch you were all those years ago praying that he’ll be the one to walk out on you this time? Bringing it back full circle to that decision you forced on him half a lifetime ago?

“Yeah?” He doesn’t sound sure and even though your eyes are anywhere but on his now, you haven’t felt his leave you this whole time.

“Yeah,” you whisper to your feet like they’re the most interesting goddamn thing in the world.

After years of practice, he’s quick about it, you don’t even realize he’s lit up until he lets go of that first puff and, with it, the entire room changes. It’s not angry, it’s not hard, it’s… twenty years of heartache and longing compounding, neither party believing they’re good enough for the other.

You look back at the tired man standing in front of you, “Javier, I—“

“No. No, let me talk,” he rubs his eyes with his free hand, drags it down his golden cheek and smirks. Another inhale and, “I didn’t come here to tell you that you fucked up, you’ve said it plenty. We’ve been talking for months, we fell back in stride like nothing ever happened, like I hadn’t spent years pretending every woman I fucked was you because it was like you’d never left my side. Almost twenty-five hundred miles, Clara, I was a world away from you and when I came home at the end of the day the last six months…” he’s the one biting his lip now, “I could call you no matter the time and the sound of your voice made me feel like a normal person. Like I still had a shot at this world beyond the bounty on my head.”

His exhaustion, his softness, is palpable now as he stops to suck in a breath like he hasn’t taken one this whole time and then…

“If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t have written. If you didn’t love me, you would’ve hung up. If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t answer the phone at one o’clock in the fucking morning to tell me to breathe through the anger and the sadness and the horror I witnessed. But if that’s the story you want to stick with, I’ll go. I don’t expect anything I just…” his voice hitches, the cigarette long forgotten between his fingers, “I just wanted to see if your face still lights up when you laugh or if that had changed after two decades. It hasn’t and it’s still both my favorite sight and sound in the world. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder to watch it grow through the years.”

He looks to the right of him and throws the cigarette in the sink. Pushing off the counter with his other hand, he takes one step forward and fixes his eyes on yours again. “Tell me I’m wrong, Clara. Tell me you don’t love me and I won’t ever darken your home aga—“

“I love you.”

And he’s on you. Just like that. Just one more step to close the distance and his body presses to yours. His large hands come up to cradle your jaw and his nose slots perfectly into place against yours and his lips touch down like a plane with faulty landing gear, crashing against yours all hot breath and stale tobacco and, oh god, the smell of him. Soap and sweat, the chemical make up of his scent flooding your senses to make you feel whole again when you didn’t even know how much you missed it.

His hands are sliding down gently, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. With his strong arms lifting you away from the counter, you no longer need to support yourself against it and you’re grabbing for him, trying harder to wring the space from between you like a worn rag but nothing is left.

The feel of him is something new, however. He’s not that scrawny kid who awkwardly held you to him, unsure of how his touches were affecting your body and pleasure. No, this Javier is different. Older, experienced, more tender than you remember him ever being, so sure of himself and just… thicker. Two shirt sizes up from the man you walked away from, his formerly wiry muscles are almost bubble wrapped in a way. What used to knot against you in hard planes of flesh and bone now give quietly against your touch as you’re pulling at the only thing that separates you now.

But suddenly, he’s breaking away. All heavy breaths and wildly flushed cheeks, his lips have left yours and the ache you numbed in his absence returns like a migraine after sleep. You need him and he’s gone again and you’re chasing his kiss with a whine as he replaces his lips with a thumb, cradling your face once more and shushing you, “Cálmate, mi amor. Está bien. Are we moving too fast right now?”

And you are breathless as you answer, “We are not moving fast enough, Javier.”

“I just don’t want you to think that this is all that I want. That you will wake to find an empty bed tomorrow.”

“If I woke to find an empty bed tomorrow, that’s exactly what I’d deserve.”

Those eyebrows knit up in confusion, the lines that have made their home on his forehead making you simultaneously weak in their beauty as evidence of his life and sad in the tragedy that you weren’t there to watch him earn them.

“Clarita,” his tone is so soft, the endearment coming to him as naturally now as it did in the before, “If it’s punishment you think you deserve then I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. I chose you, you didn’t beg for it. I did that of my own accord. And when you chose to walk away because you felt guilty, I did beg you. I’ll own it, I begged and pined but you couldn’t get out of your own head long enough to see that you were never the issue, you were the solution. You still are. I have searched for you in everybody I’ve ever met. So tell me,” his hands are wrapping around your arms now, “Are you ready to forgive yourself and find me in your bed tomorrow morning?”

“Yes,” comes barely audible through parted lips as his find yours once more, knocking the breath from your chest as his hands slide down to your hips. He digs his fingers into the denim there and slowly starts to guide you through the home that’s not his thinking, correctly, that the only door at the end of the hallway is the destination he really booked from Bogotá.

And he is burning a hole through you, his entire being set on fire against you in the already blazing Texas heat. He is gentle as he pushes you down, climbing on top with one arm out to break both your falls. His shirt was abandoned somewhere in the kitchen, shoes kicked off in the hallway with your shorts not far behind. His belt buckle is riding against you as he rocks his hips down, forgetting the metal between you in his hunger for you to feel him.

He feels you wince, the whine swallowed between his lips but he’s pulling back like he’s electrocuted you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” your hands are shaking as you take advantage of the space between, “just take your pants off.”  

He hits you with that crooked smile and meets your hands where they’re still trembling at his hips and, god, he’s swift. He wastes no time kicking off his jeans and falling back into you, pressing back into you. You can feel him straining against his briefs but his patience is unmatched as he savors every taste of your mouth, every nip at the warm skin of your neck and chest. His hands are exploring the years that have marked your body as you mentally catalogue the scars that have taken over his.

He’s pushed your shirt up as far as it will go without leaving you but when he finally does to lift it away, the separation is so quick that it feels like nothing. He’s everywhere and you’re delirious, half thinking you’re imagining him moaning into you as he takes your hand in his to put it where he wants it.

You almost think…but, no, that’s not how that works. Your brain is fucking with you, unable to reconcile the man on top of you with the memory of the boy you loved once upon a time. But you swear, he’s bigger. He holds his breath as your hand slides between him and his waistband and he’s looking down at you like he’s never been touched at all. The sadness showcased across the softness of his face is made worse by the sheen of sweat and blush across his nose. You’d almost believe it if you couldn’t feel the heartbeat in his hardness, waiting for you to make the next move.

After two beats of aching silence, looking up into the galaxies he has the audacity to call eyes, your other hand moves to push at his waistband. If you thought he was urgent before, the graceful rush to join your efforts is gold medal worthy. Your senses are delayed, you’re not sure if the sound of fabric hitting the ground comes before or after he’s ripping at the only bit of fabric that separates you now.

“Fuck,” he rests his forehead to yours, “I'll buy you another pair.” The confusion bubbles into laughter as you realize that, yes, he actually tore them from your body.

But the bubbling laughter in your throat squeezes into a tight gasp, the air punched from your lungs as he steadies himself against you. His long fingers are brushing your hair to the side as he leans down and whispers against your lips, “Can I?”

“Please,” but your begging is lost in his response before the word has fully left your lips. He is grabbing in a way you haven’t felt in years. Hungry, like he can’t get enough, like it’s all he needs.

It is devastating, the build up. He’s ripping through the deepest parts of you and you’re convinced, wholeheartedly, that the only truth you’ve ever known rides on the waves of his name. His grip tightens, his teeth dragging down your jawline and warmth takes over as an earthquake shatters what little composure you’ve kept.

He moans low in his throat once.

Twice.

Three times it dies out against your ear like it’s only meant for you. Like it was all only meant for you.

He’s smiling as he softens, you can hear it in his voice as he slowly asks, “Can we just stay like this for a minute?”

You press your lips to that dimple, singular and lonely on the right side of his face; so far gone from a five o’clock shadow, you’d almost think he’s been forty all his life.

“Javier,” your fingers wind tighter through the sweat slick curls at the crown of his head, “we can stay like this forever.”

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23​ | @greeneyedblondie44​ | @icanbeyourjedi​ | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​ | @notcookiebelle​ | @knivesareout​ | @empress-palpat1ne​ | @phoenixpascal​ | @lexi-b-writes​ 

[emptyyourthoughtss]

You Make Me Sick

I’m sick every morning over you. I throw you up like a bad night out. My stomach lurching with every lie you tell, forcing the foundation to crack. Bubble and bruise, you know food gets me good. How could you hit me where it hurts the most? It’s like you know i’d die without you. Wither and crack under every last breath. Wish I didn’t remember you as being good. Wish all the reasons I hated you could come back to me now. There’s none today. There’s no fuel for me this time. Can’t do this now. I have to tell myself you’re never coming back or i’ll never let it go. The hold you have over me, from so far away. It’s unhealthy, really. I don’t want you to go but whatever you do, please don’t stay. I can’t survive another two years of this. I need you though. What am I supposed to do?

Codependency is the only way I know it. I brush my teeth with it every morning and pray I can taste it. I travel back and forth now for work. Across the small sea. It’s my way of pretending im leaving. I fly up and away, somewhere unfamiliar. Im just like you, see? You live in every crack of my mind. You live in my home keys. You live in my favorite shoes. You live in that stupid fucking neon sign you left bolted to the wall in our room. The one you pretended you gave me. A friendly favor. Always giving me your unclaimed baggage, knowing that a piece of you saves me. I take it. I always do. Something deep down inside of me is hoping, praying you’ll be back. Back to claim it.

I don’t do well with ghosts. They haunt me easily. My third eye is open at all times, leaving them the power to perceive me. Something far from divine. I live this new life waiting for you to orbit back to me. The cycle we kept up a million times. Five years feels like forever.

Sometimes when you’re asleep, you forget to dream. Im assuming thats what it felt like, loving me. A sleepwalk. Something you knew so easily. Someone that made you feel seen. All I do is dream. Dream that this works out and that you’ll one day make it up to me.

I knew I was right. I knew another shoe would drop. I felt it in my stomach but pushed it away for you, you were so good at that. Made me believe everything you did was for us. It was good. I knew you weren’t who you said you were. Is the cycle finally over? I’ll still wait. I’ll wait to find out. My head won’t let me do anything else. I’ll wait as long as I need to. I don’t get over things easily. Can you tell? Even if you say it’s over, I know better than to believe you for your word. I learned the hard way. I don’t get over things easily.

I wish I didn’t love you. It would be so much easier if I didn’t love you. Why did you make me love you? I was almost over you. Then I gave you everything. This time I gave you EVERYTHING. My demons started catching up with me and you left me as soon as I had them at bay. You made me give you everything. Told me it was the only way. You wanted to see me for who I was and it scared you away. Now im left on my own. To deal with everything you took away. The only thing left of you is everything tangible. Thats the shit I cant move. The shit that wont look away. Its my house. Its my home. Its the place I go when I wanna get away. How do I get away now? Where do I go? Your presence weighs on me heavily. Such a sad gravity. How do I continue this life without you around me?

[aknosde]

Omnes Una Manet Nox

The chronologically first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Reyna Avilla Ramírez-Arellano // Fluff & Angst, but minor on the angst // the night before Reyna disappears //  tw: mentions past minor character death // light swearing // 4.4k

ao3

—————

“That went well, didn’t it?” Jason asks with that familiar, absently intense energy. They’ve just descended the steps of the Senate after their monthly meeting with the consuls.

The two consuls, in their late thirties, oversee all of Camp Jupiter. Of course, the legion manages their own grounds and budget, under Jason and Reyna’s command, but the little oversight they do get is from the consuls.

Johnson was one of New Rome’s praetors, a few years back. He doesn’t care much about the legion, being from a legacy family and largely skirting his training and service, and he never ceases to make that known. Malhill is the one that always gets under Jason’s defenses. He’s good on policy, good on veterans, good on kids, everything that they could want. But he was the legion’s champion only ten years ago. A direct son of Apollo, a talented archer but an even better bender of light, a legion praetor, and he’s had his eyes on Jason’s career since day one. Reyna’s seen the way he eyes Jason whenever she and Jason are in New Rome, already pegging him for a consul position once Jason’s old enough.

“It went well, Jace,” she says. “Your mission plan is flawless, the only thing that could make them happier is if you’d go on it.” She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth.

Her remorse is tangible, visible in the line of his spine, the way he taps the place in his pocket where Ivlivs would sit if they were not inside the Pomerian Line, the subtle flick of his wrist.

Not for the first time, she thinks about Mount Othrys. Everything it took from her. Sometimes when she sleeps–not often, but enough–it plays over in her head. But something is always wrong.

She’s leading the charge, but suddenly it’s Jason next to her instead of Michelle. Or Jason and Michelle run into the throne room, but when she closes the door behind them it locks. She makes it into the throne room, slaying all of the Dracaena, but when she enters Atlas is holding Jason over his head, instead of fighting him hand to hand. On the good nights, Michelle isn’t dead when she bursts through the door, on the bad, she watches Michelle die. The one constant is Jason, gold ichor dripping down his face in a horrific mask. When she and Jason land the killing blow, together, she can always see it.

He doesn’t talk about it, of course. Not about Michelle, not about his election, not about the mountain. But she can see it weighing on him through the big things, like how he hasn’t been out of camp borders since the battle, and the small things, like how he glances up at the stars, as if one will come down and crush him any moment.

She rolls her right shoulder, feeling the ligaments shift, as if it will rid her of the thoughts, prepare her for a topic of conversation that often hits a little too close to home.

“Did you hear how Johnson pronounced my name? He’s even worse than you.” Maybe the small huff of a laugh Jason expels is worth it. “‘Miss Ramírez-Arellano,’” she continues, in a nasally imitation of the consul.

“I don’t say it that badly.”

“You say it like a white boy who didn’t know Spanish was a language until two seconds ago.”

“Ramírez-Arellano,” he says, better than consul Johnson, but she still hates hearing it. That girl is long gone, the only thing connecting her to Reyna is Hylla, and although Reyna loves her sister, she’s grateful for the distance that keeps Hylla from being a constant reminder.

“‘We were– were very, erm, dazzled, by your most recent proposition.’” She continues the impression until they are walking through the Praetorian Gate, Jason half hanging off her shoulder and giggling like they’re thirteen again.

He has a nice laugh. A friendly one. It seems to feed off of her volume, her effort, fluctuating the longer he goes. He shouts at her to stop several times, but he’s doubled over in armor, snorting, and all she wants to do is make him laugh like this forever.

It only gets worse on the steps of the Principa, when he decides a good revenge plan is to trip her. The building is dark like the rest of the legion. Two lamps, invisible under the light of day, flank the double doors, but the light is faint and barely makes its way to the stairs, washing everything in a pale yellow. She side steps his foot–his sneakers have reflective decals on them for the sake of the gods, he’s an idiot–but he’s shifted his weight so much that he ends up tripping himself.

They stumble through the doors, still chuckling, and make their way across the great hall as quickly as possible. They must have gotten a new tender for the Principa, because the lights are off like they forgot that people actually live here. Only two people, but still. The darkness makes the place unsettling, and now she’s counting on Jason to keep her occupied. A job he seems all too willing to fulfill as he runs through the next set of doors, still in full armor, clashing against the wood.

Upstairs is worse, she decides. The abandoned lounge reminds her of her childhood living room. Any moment her father could rise from one of the low couches, ready to scoop her up and throw her in her room, that crazed look in his eye.

Something clangs and she jumps.

“What the heck is this?” Jason’s whisper-shouting when she catches up with him in the hallway outside their rooms. He’s partially on the floor–hands keeping him from being face flat–and something is crinkling under his knee.

For some reason all Reyna can say is: “Did you just say ‘heck?’”

“Shut up,” he whines, and she wishes the lights were on just so she could see his ears turning red.

“Of course, farm-boy.”

He’s sitting back on his heels now, she can see the object’s dark outline as he holds it up, rustling in his hands.

“Seriously, what is this thing?” he asks, looking up at her.

“A bag with my old clothes,” she says, squinting. “I was going to see if any legionnaires need some.”

“And you have it by your door so you don’t forget,” he says, explaining for her. In the stress of running for office, of war, she forgot the ways in which they are attuned to each other. She forgot that she doesn’t have to explain and defend her every little action to him. It’s sad that it’s taken her almost two months to remember.

He sets the bag back down, nudging it into almost its exact spot, and hefts himself to his feet with a sigh. His brow furrows once he’s standing, looking out into the middle distance, but he sees the quirk of her brow and quickly explains himself, “We have that meeting with the centurions tomorrow after breakfast.”

Jason is a social person. A true extrovert. He hates being alone, working alone, and the quiet that comes with both. So what he’s really saying is that he has work left to do and wants some company. And who is she to deny him that? “Do you want to work in the main hall, office, or my room?”

He grins, clapping his hands and then raises his palms to the sky. “Bedroom, praise Fortuna.”

“Five minutes, Sparkplug,” she says, bumping her shoulder into his own as she sidesteps him into her room. His eyes follow her as she goes, like she’s his North Star, and damn him for making her heart skip a beat, because in the empty space Venus’ words always echo. She stomps them down, before her face can fall, before the hollow silence can fill the hallway, and in their place she jams a smirk. “If you’re lucky I’ll even edit your speech.”

As her door clicks behind her she can hear him groan, “I just prayed to Fortuna.”

She stands with her hands on her hips, briefly surveying her room to decide what to do first.

Being praetor has its perks, like private bath and bedrooms across the hall from her best friend and king sized beds, but it also means she is no longer in the practice of keeping her space ready for inspections. Her comforter is pulled up, but her bed isn’t made, files are scattered across her desk and on her dresser, and her wardrobe is wide open.

She decides on doing everything at once, which involves a crooked path across her room as she shucks off armor, not bothering with her armor stand, and changes out of the nice clothes she wore to meet the consuls. All the while she turns on lights, puts on sweats, makes her bed, and tucks away files.

Jason knocks on her door five minutes later, that ever punctual bastard, just as she’s zipping her hoodie over her tank top.

“Help me, Reyna,” he says, holding a typed copy of his speech out to her in both hands like some sort of trophy. “You’re my only hope.”

She snorts, snatching the pages out of his hands. “Nice reference.”

He cocks his head to the side, brow furrowed, and she bets if he were actually a wolf one of his ears would be turned as well.

“You just made a Star Wars reference,” she says, but he looks just as confused.

“What’s Star Wars?” He asks warily.

She swears to herself in Spanish, because otherwise he’ll tease her about the legion’s anti-swearing policies, collapsing dramatically back on her bed, and sighs. “It’s a movie trilogy, wolf boy.”

“Ah.”

Another thing she forgot, apparently, is how little Jason knows about basically anything outside of camp. He says he arrived when he was three, and wasn’t even allowed into the city until he was eight, which apparently means he’s never been to a movie theater.

By now he seems used to her telling him about the more innocent aspects of the mortal world, and at the very least takes his lack of knowledge in stride. If only he would watch the movies and shows she’s downloaded on his laptop for him.

When she looks up after reading his introduction he is sitting at her desk, picking at some invisible blemish while subtly putting highlighters away, and looking around her room.

“If you start cleaning I’m throwing you out.”

He grumbles to himself, but she makes out a yes ma’am somewhere in the mix, so she decides to throw him a bone.

“If you want to occupy yourself I have a speech about legion veterans you can fact check,” she says, faux casual, not that he can tell. He needs to do something before he starts picking at his nails instead of the wood.

“Sure.”

“It’s in one of the red folders.”

“Would that be the one on the floor under your desk or the one on your dresser,” he says, sounding far too cheeky.

“The one on my dresser, and stop pretending you’re better than me, asshole.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, walking to her dresser. “Better than the best? How could I be?”

“Mmmhmm,” she responds, half ignoring him in favor of his speech, aware of the ticking clock.

It’s truly impossible for him to stay awake past ten, a fact that is only proven the next time she looks up and he’s asleep at her desk, pen still in hand and a research paper opened on her laptop. No matter how often she reminds him that the regimented lights out of the legion no longer applies to them, he just can’t seem to break the habit.

“Jason.” She nudges his shoulder, extracting the pen at the same moment so he can’t smudge her speech.

His head jerks, eyes alert, but voice groggy when he says, “What’s going on?” All legionnaires wake up in a similar manner, but for some reason it only strikes her as amusing when he does it.

She hadn’t thought of what she was waking him up for, besides a need to do it, and her mind wanders to the Forum, wondering if her favorite café would still be open at this hour. She’s starving, she realizes. Their meeting with the consuls had been pushed back and they had had to skip dinner to make it.

She grins. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“Roof s’mores?”

“Reyna,” he drags out the last syllable, fading it into a sigh. “That takes energy.”

“Okay, but–” She holds her hands out, weighing them. “Would you rather spend the energy to just walk across the hall and go to sleep, or climb up to the roof with me and roast us a couple marshmallows?”

Jason looks at her like is that a real question? which had been her intention. She folds her hands into a pleading gesture and pouts emphatically–he’s always more flexible when she acts a little silly. “Please, Jace. I got that cheap chocolate you like. I’ll even get the stuff myself, you can go straight up.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and she smiles, satisfied, and already on her way out the door.

The praetorian kitchen reminds her of office break rooms on television, besides the fact that it looks perpetually unnatural, mostly due to the fact that only three people go inside–her, Jason, and the Principa tender–and it’s always pristine. The only things actually kept in there are coffee, tea, and of course: her and Jason’s secret stash of s’more supplies, buried in the back of the cabinet with the untouched bowls.

By the time she’s through the roof access door, conveniently placed to hide it from the view of anyone on the ground, Jason is already sitting by the dark spot of ash that signifies their pastime. Because, yes, they started coming up here long before either of them were elected Praetor.

He’s a dark outline against the night sky, sitting criss-crossed and looking down at the façades of the other legion buildings, and briefly she has the thought that somebody could make a painting out of this. She slides her old Camp Jupiter ID back between the lock and door jamb, willing the thought to disappear with the potential of the fire alarm going off.

She shivers as she sits next to him, nose wrinkling with the cold now that she’s fully vulnerable to the elements. Without a word Jason removes his sweatshirt and passes it to her.

“I’m already wearing one.”

“Mine is thicker, trade me.”

And because he’s Jason, she does.

It’s slightly big on her, his shoulders just a few inches broader than her own, and a forest green. On the back is a printed vine of purple flowers and a date. She recognizes it as one of the prizes of the Ludi Florae, or Games of Flora, from Floralia last year. The festival sits right between April and May, and last year’s was the grandest of all. Or so Jason says. Everyone had been anxious about Mount Othrys, and apparently all of that energy had been funnelled into the events.

Reyna herself had been busy running for praetor. All she remembers from the festival is campaigning. And Jason, running up to her looking flushed, this sweatshirt thrown over one shoulder.

“Remember when I told you that you were the best, Jace,” she says sweetly once she is safely swaddled in his hoodie. He’s right–it is thicker.

Jason grins up at her, wrapping his hands around two marshmallows. “I may recall something along those lines having been said a long, long time ago.”

“Well, I just want to inform you that I retract that statement, because this sweatshirt is ugly and the cuffs are burnt.”

The electricity that had been slowly coursing over the ridges of his fingers flares for a second, and his hands fly open as if he was handed metal straight from the forges. “Oops.” Both of the marshmallows are burnt, but his lips are turned up in a poorly concealed smirk.

“I forget you’re a heathen,” she says primly, sticking her nose in the air instead of saying any of the less wholesome options at the back of her throat.

“Does liking burnt marshmallows make me a heathen?”

She pretends to mull it over for a second, extracting the rest of their supplies. “Yes. You have to buy the next bag because you’re mean and I say so.”

She takes the burnt marshmallow regardless, sandwiching it between her own chocolate and graham crackers. Jason takes three squares of the Hershey bar he likes for absolutely no good reason, and does the same. She shakes her head. He’s the fucking all American boy who sticks with the classics even when he doesn’t know they’re the classics. She has no idea how he does it.

They don’t talk while they eat, regrettably the silence reminding her of her childhood, no matter how hard she pushes against it. She looks up at the stars, trying to forget the cold kitchen, cold house, even in hundred degree heat. It’s times like this when the ring, and the chain she wears it on, weigh heavy on her neck.

It feels like a noose right now, just as much as it feels like freedom, like power, every other second of her life. Like a sentence, compelling her to pay for her crimes, to confess to them, to wreck her world so terribly that she would lose up from down and die. A fair punishment.

“What are you thinking about,” Jason asks a while after they’ve finished. She looks at him, sitting back on his hands, looking at her, not the sky. It’s dark on the roof, but the light from the street lamps seems to center around him. It glints off his hair, visibly blond even in the night, and pours into his eyes. They’re always so blue. So blue it looks fake. But they never cease to pull Reyna in. Sometimes she swears she can see lightning arc across his irises.

He’s always asking her questions like this. Innocent and curious, no ulterior motives, no goals. He genuinely wants to know. And if she doesn’t answer, he’ll drop it, because he always does. It’s not something she’s used to, even after all these years; this place she has in his mind, if not his heart. A place of utter respect. He doesn’t question her because he knows what she is thinking, and when he doesn’t, he accepts her. Would he still, if he knew what she did to her father?

She breaks his gaze with that thought. It’s too much. “My sister,” she says instead, and it doesn’t feel right to look back. Under oath, Reyna would say that Jason is the most important person in her life. Her best friend; the person she sees every day, talks to every day, eats with and works with. He is the closest thing she has to a family here. And she– And she loves him. Maybe as a little more than a friend. But talking about her sister while looking him in the eye feels too intimate, too intense. “She would like you.”

It is something to say, simply to say something, but maybe she isn’t wrong. There is something in Jason that reminds her of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and not in the way that haunts her nightmares and twists her sheets around her until they become bonds she can’t quite break free of. Being on Blackbeard’s crew, that’s how Reyna learned hard work, in a way she never had before. It had instilled a drive in her, to change everything, to rewrite systems, to make something so beautiful it was unrecognizable. And perhaps Jason doesn’t have that same drive, but he knows the work. He goes out of his way to do it dirty and hard and long. He refuses to take the thousands of shortcuts he’s offered. And Hylla would admire that, she thinks.

“I had a sister,” he whispers.

For a second–just a second–she’s stuck. “What?”

“I had a sister.” He picks at a loose thread on his jeans for a moment, and that’s how she knows he’s serious, because he hates ripping his jeans more than almost anything else. He’s refusing to meet her gaze. “Thalia Grace.”

He says her name soft and tender. She can imagine him, standing over a hearth, cradling the name between his palms and looking at it the same way he first looked when he was gifted Ivlivs. Big, round eyes.

“That’s really nice, Jace,” she says, because he rarely surprises her, and for once she doesn’t know what to say.

He looks up at her, smiling tightly. His eyes are sad. Is that how she looks when she thinks about Hylla?

“You can tell me about her, if you want,” Reyna says when the moment becomes two, and then three, because Jason doesn’t bring up things he doesn’t want to talk about. But Jason also has his own ideas about debt, about worthiness, and it is clear to her that he told her about his sister in exchange for Reyna talking about her own.

He smiles at her. A real smile, if small. She feels warm, and it’s not from his extra thick sweatshirt.

“I don’t remember a lot about her, but… She had black hair. So dark, like the night. And her eyes, they were amazing. Bright blue, like a perfect sky. Sometimes I can see them, in this half-memory half-dream, and they’re so strong they look like how an electric shock feels.”

“Like yours,” she whispers, and Jason hums in a way that makes it frustratingly unclear if he heard her or not. She hopes not.

“When I was little,” he continues, after another moment of staring wistfully over the Twelfth Legion, “I used to imagine she was looking for me. That one day she would find me, here, be proud of me for– I don’t know what. Love me, or something. All that stupid shit.” He trails off again, picking at his nails, but she can’t bring herself to chide him.

There are things that she knows about Jason, true as the sun rising in the east and the pull of the moon on the tides and the sound of imperial gold on whetstone. She knows that he works hard, works with the public, flushes under the compliments of people older than him because he has never had a concrete parental figure. Not even one to hate, to fear, to mourn. She knows that he never trusts praise from these people because he knows his parentage, knows they know, knows that he is connected to his father in the eyes of these people in a way he doesn’t feel himself, and never will.

Truths of Jason that are pillars in her understanding of him, that were pivotal in their relationship. But like so many supports, they were never acknowledged. Truth has no need to be stated, and she has no compellence to state that which is unnecessary. He talks of Thalia, telling Reyna that he wants his sister to want him, to find him, and to love him not because he is a son of Jupiter, but because he’s him.

She doesn’t say, I don’t care about you because you’re the son of Jupiter, I care about you because you are my best friend. And she doesn’t say, I care about you because you listen to people, because you care about them and what happens to them so instinctively that I cannot understand it. She doesn’t say, I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.

She doesn’t say those things because he knows them, because they are truths, and truths do not need to be said.

But still, something must be done.

She– She’s always been bad at the physical things. She can do a handshake, a fist bump, but she has never been a hugger, no matter that Jason is. She’s never managed a hip-check, or a shoulder pat, or ruffled his hair in any way that wasn’t rough and meant to hurt.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t try.

She goes slow, leaning over slightly, feels the cool breeze breaking on her knuckles. Gently, perhaps more gently than she has done anything in her life, she takes his hands, detangles them, presses her finger pads against the bleeding bits where he’s torn his skin away. She closes her hands around his own, cups them in her palms.

He looks up at her, tears welled on his water line but nothing has spilled, and she feels his hands move in her own, feels him latch on, like when they were young and late for assignments, running across the grounds and refusing to leave each other behind. She looks into his eyes, wide. Electrifying. Just like she knew they were.

She waits for the moment to stretch and break, like moments oft do. Her last move is to give his hands a squeeze, hopefully reassuring, and he gives her another small smile and moves to wipe his eyes with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, the one he’s still wearing.

“We should probably be going to bed,” she says, because she doesn’t have anything else to say. He laughs, wetly, but in that way everybody laughs when they’re told something they already know. It makes her smile; it’s special when he does it.

Everybody isn’t wrong, she thinks as she and Jason part ways outside their rooms, Jason Grace is special. But not because he is the son of Jupiter. He’s special because Reyna had never wanted friends, and here he is, her best. He’s special because he does things, normal things, and they make her smile. He’s special because he does everything in his power to ensure he deserves the love he receives. And gods, she thinks, does he deserve it.

She slips off her necklace and gets under her duvet cover, curling up and fiddling with the cuffs of his sweatshirt. Chunks of the polyester-wool fabric are hard and melted from undoubtedly unfortunate rendezvous with electricity. She finds one, right where his thumb would rest, and rubs it between her own thumb and index finger as she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, she’s on a school bus.

—————

Others in this series: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

[casnextdoor]

PAPER HEART

———————

a/n; i wrote this solely because i have fallen in love with jk’s cover of tori kelly’s paper hearts . i bawled my eyes out to it while reading ‘under the sky in room 553 i discovered you and i’ it was VERY ANGSTY and i was sad . 10/10 def recommend. anywho enjoy

———————————

The lights around the stage were bright, blinding. The fans were loud, a consistent chant of Jungkook’s stage name the only thing being heard in the stadium. Even after two months of seeing and hearing this night after night, he still couldn’t believe this was all for him. It was always at the end of his set, when he’d sit on the wooden stool in the dead centre of the stage, that he’d hear your voice. He’d hear you telling him he deserved this and more. You were supposed to be here.

He waited for the stadium to quiet, and just like every night prior, the fans' loud roar turned into ambient muttering. So with a heavy heart, he deposited a guitar pick from his pocket and started experimentally picking and strumming at the acoustic guitar that sat comfortably on his thighs. He knew the cords like the back of his hand -- having played it for you more times than he could count -- so he found his rhythm with ease.

It felt like just yesterday when you’d sat with him in his studio, helping him create the song that would break his heart every time he played it.

Your smile. That's what really caught his attention that day. Everyday since the two of you had met, he’d picked another physical feature of yours to obsess over every time he’d see you. Your perfect set of pearly whites with a little bit of an overbite had his heart beating recklessly against his ribcage today. The septum piercing hanging right above your cupid's-bow fell over your lips when they’d pulled up into that signature grin of yours. He’d die happy if it were the last thing he’d ever seen, he’d decided.

You’re guitar -- the black one he’d gifted you sophomore year as an early birthday gift -- hung loosely over your shoulder in its case. It made him smile that you’d kept after so long -- that you’d kept him around for so long.

“Okay, Noona. Why are we here?” Jungkook wouldn’t lie, he had never gotten dressed as quickly as he had when he’d received a text from you telling him to meet you at his studio. He almost ran out of the dorms with no shoes on -- he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

“Remember when you told me you couldn’t write? When you said you couldn’t find lyrics to go to the guitar piece you composed?” You’d excitedly plopped down on the black leather couch on the other side of his studio; you’d picked that couch.

Jungkook hummed, eyeing you skeptically. He didn’t know where this was going. Looking back now, he should’ve had a clue; this was such a you thing to do, after all. But at the time, he had no idea where this conversation or impromptu meet up was headed.

“Well, fret no longer, my friend. I spent all night writing you lyrics.” Your smile was so big and your hands were a bit fidget-y as you unzipped your guitar case; a tell-tale sign that you had been drinking coffee again. It was painfully endearing that you’d stayed up all night just writing him lyrics. And he found it absolutely adorable that instead of waiting until the morning to call him, you’d texted him at two in the morning, demanding that he meet you. He had to purse his lips to refrain from smiling too hard.

“You do realize it's almost three in the morning, right, Flower?” Jungkook’s amused chuckle caused an embarrassing amount of heat to course through your body. You nodded sheepishly, hands gripping nervously at the neck of your guitar. You’d pray he couldn’t see how nervous you were so you instead pulled your lips up into a scowl and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Do you wanna hear ‘em or not?” There was no real edge to your voice, and Jungkook knew you’d just been looking for a way to channel your nerves into something less embarrassing than a nervous chuckle.

He nodded, leaning back into his rolling office chair and had he always been so big? His gaze never left you and you could almost feel the weight of his eyes on you. You’d avert your gaze away from him and down toward the strings of your guitar, in fear that if you look at him, he’d hear the loud love confessions your brain was screaming at him. You grumbled at him to record a voice memo -- you were not going to give him your lyric book.

You’d picked and strummed at the guitar until you’d found and stayed with the melody you were looking for. You played the sequence for a bit longer just to make sure you wouldn’t mess up. You figured you were ready after about thirty seconds of just blue music. So you cleared your voice and started singing.

Remember the way you made me feel, such young love but,

Jungkook realized that no matter what you’d written, he would’ve loved it anyway -- it was you, after all.

Something in me knew that it was real. Frozen in my head.

Pictures I’m living through for now

Trying to remember all the good times

He could listen to you for hours. There was something so serene, he thought, about listening to the love of your life sing a song they’d written just for you.

Our life was cutting through so loud. Memories are playing in my dull mind.

Has his gaze always been this heavy? Has your heart always beat this fast for him? Have you always wanted someone to love you back this much? No, you supposed you hadn’t. But there’s a first for everything.

I hate this part, paper hearts. And I’ll hold a piece of yours.

Don’t think I would just forget about it.

Hoping that you won’t forget about it.

That was four years ago. Four years ago. He remembered staring at you while you sang the entire song. He remembered just watching you in silence for five minutes. He remembered the way you bit down at your lip and avoided his gaze like the black plague. He remembered leaning forward and pulling your lip from under your teeth. He remembered the way he brushed his nose against yours and telling you -- his flower -- how much he loved it, the song. He remembered kissing you and taking you right there in the studio. He remembered just how gorgeous you were in such a euphoric state. He remembered he told you he loved you more times than he could count that night.

And he remembered the chaos that ensued after, leading you to giving him full custody and access to the song and moving out of the city. Just to get away from him.

He hadn’t sung the song or even recorded it since. He listened to the voice memo with the song and your beautiful euphoric sounds on it every night for two months. He’d cried to that memo. He’d gotten off to that memo. And soon he had to move it to the archives; he wouldn’t allow himself to break anymore.

A part of moving on is making amends. He was in your town because of touring. And before he knew what he was doing, he was adding the song to the performance sequence and shooting you a text.

I’m in your city. For a tour of course. And I’m singing paper hearts for the first time tonight. And I want you to sing it with me. If your email is the same I’ll send you a guest pass. You don’t have to come, but… I would love it if you did :)

You’d left him on delivered. You hadn’t even opened the message. He sent the pass anyway, hoping to the heavens that you would receive it.

He strummed at the guitar strings, trying to keep his eyes from scanning the crowd for you. But when he started singing he couldn’t help but look for those gorgeous eyes and that bright smile he hadn’t seen in four years.

Everything is gray under these skies, wet mascara

Hiding every cloud under a smile, when there’s cameras

And I just can’t reach out to tell you

That I always wonder what you’re up to

That isn’t my voice, he thought, eyebrows creasing in confusion as he looked toward the stage manager who was normally off on the right wing.

And there you were. You were still as beautiful as he remembered. Just as breathtaking as he remembered.

You walked toward him, steps slow and calculated as you stopped just behind him, placing a soft hand onto his shoulder and pressing your front to his back.

Your hand slid down his chest as you used his physical form to ground you and keep you level headed; he was just as good looking as he was all those years ago and you couldn’t help but replay that night in the studio as you reached the next verse.

Pictures I’m living through for now, Trying to remember all the good times

Our life was cutting through, Memories are playing in my dull mind

I hate this part, paper hearts. And I’ll hold a piece of yours

Don’t think I would just forget about it. Hoping that you won’t forget about it.

Jungkook stopped singing completely -- he loved it when you sang this part.

I live through pictures as if I was right there by your side

But you’ll be good without me and if I could just give you some time I’ll be alright.

And then there was nothing. No screaming fans, no guitar, no singing. It was just you. And him. In the middle of this big sea called the universe. Because you’d come back to him. You’d found your way back to him and he decided right then he wouldn’t let you go.

So with the hand that was just gripping the neck of the guitar, he was lightly gripping the back of your neck, pulling you down firmly. He brushed his nose against yours before whispering:

“It's beautiful, Flower. Where’d you learn to sing like that?” You laughed at that.

“I learned from the best, Kookie.” And then his lips were on yours and the entire world really disappeared.

[jbbarnesnnoble]

JBBarnesNNoble's 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge 2021

Hello lovely people! And welcome to the 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge. The aim of this challenge is to shine a light on mental health, medical conditions, and the things that can have impacts on us. This started out initially being a PCOS Awareness challenge last year but through conversations with other writers over Discord, it evolved into a Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge last year. I’m reusing some of the unused prompts from last year’s challenge and adding in some new ones!

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The goal of this challenge is to lift each other up, and show that it’s okay not to be okay. Spread some love and light during a challenging time in the world to those who struggle with chronic illness, depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, grief, PCOS, acceptance from their families and communities for being LGBT+, and anyone struggling with insecurity.

This challenge will run through July 31st, 2021. It will run through Mental Health Awareness Month, Pride Month, and the month of July to give people time to write. You can submit it at any time. I probably have too many prompts, but I wanted to ensure that there was a wide array to choose from. Please don’t hesitate to message me if I haven’t interacted with your fic after a few days! Sometimes the tag system doesn’t work and I miss things!

The Rules:

1. Utilize resources available online if you’re dealing with subject matter you’re not that familiar with. I’m not going to go all “cite sources” on y’all, but please do make sure to do your research. Writing about some of these issues can be hard if you don’t have first hand knowledge of how it can affect you. The goal of this challenge is to write about topics that we tend to shy away from, that many of us struggle with, from mental health struggles to chronic illnesses to low-self esteem. A gentle reminder that if you think writing about a subject will be triggering for you, please look after yourself first.

2. Use #JBBNNMHAM21 to tag your fic

3. Dark!Fic- Due to the subject matter involved in this challenge, please don’t submit dark!fic. I enjoy dark fics, but this challenge isn’t the place for them.

4. Smut- Smut is welcome! Make sure you tag it appropriately.

5. No inc*st, dubcon/noncon, underage, etc

6. Ships- I prefer reader inserts, but show me what ya got.

7. NO JOHN WALKER FICS. Please. Please no. I beg of you.

8. Selecting Prompts: Just let me know which one you want to do! 2 people per prompt! The song prompts have a line from them under it. You DO NOT need to use the line in your submission! It’s mostly to help you decide if you’re interested in a song before you take a listen to it.

You also can alter the sentence and dialogue prompts as needed for grammar, be it altering the pronouns used or changing the pluralization of a word.

9. Trigger Warnings: Use warnings as needed. Fics dealing with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, or other mental health issues should be tagged appropriately to ensure that readers that may be triggered by the subject matter can avoid the fic. Trigger warnings are non-negotiable

The prompts are under the cut!

Prompts:

Dialogue Prompts:

“I feel like if I let go, if I move on, I’ll only be proving them right.”

“I don’t know. Am I? Because from where I’m standing it’s pretty damn clear that’s how you see me.”

“You don’t believe that do you? Tell me you don’t. Please.”

“It’d probably be easier if you left”

“Please leave me alone”

“Everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person to have those broken pieces.” @nekoannie-chan

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll take that shake now.”

“What’s the point if I’m going to end up breaking that promise too?”

“You sure about that, moonman?”

“It made you smile though. And that will always be a win in my book.”

“That’s not true. And I will tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”

Sentence Prompts:

Feel free to adjust the pronouns as needed

It was a day. It was the only way it could be described.

Summer had a smell that reminded her of innocence and a time long since past.

In that moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis as it all shattered down around her.

Some things, there would never be a way to understand. @justrunamok

Like shattered glass, in that moment the illusion was broken.

Forever was a lie, just like everything else.

If you had another condescending doctor tell you your problem wasn’t a problem you were going to scream.

They’d say it was easy, like riding a bike. Except, you never learned how to ride a bike in the first place.

Today was going to be good. It had to be.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was going south.

AU and Trope Prompts:

Soulmate @samsgoddess

College

Childhood Friends @tellmealovestory

Friends to Lovers

Enemies to Lovers

Musicians

Writer

Professional Athlete

Teacher

Coffee Shop

Fake Dating

Accidental Marriage

Royal

Librarian

Doctor

Song Prompts:

1. Nobody Ever Told You - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “Wish you could see yourself the way I do. Nobody ever told you, nobody ever told you. Shine like a diamond, glitter like gold, and you need to know what nobody ever told you”

2. Missing You - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “And if you need a friend, I’ll help you stitch up your wounds. I heard that you’ve been, having some trouble finding your place in the world. I know how much that hurts. But if you need a friend, then please just say the word.”

3. Barefoot and Bruised - Jamestown Story

Lyric Snippet: “Maybe when your sky comes crashing down, I can be your angel on the ground. If you get tired and can’t go on, I will carry you along, when the rocks below your feet wear out your shoes, when you’re barefoot and bruised”

4. Hold On Till May- Pierce the Veil

Lyric Snippet: “If were you, I’d put that away. See you’re just wasted and thinking about the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”

5. If I Surrender - Citizen Soldier

Lyric Snippet: “If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me, will it set me free?”

6. Home - Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors, Beba Rexha

Lyric Snippet: “All these miles, feet, inches, they can’t add up to the distance that I have been through just to get to a place where even if there’s no closure I’m still safe. I still ache from trying to keep pace. Somebody give me a sign, I’m starting to lose faith”

7. Broken Arrows - Daughtry

Lyric Snippet: “The best of intentions I lay at your feet. And I need you to see past the worst part of me.”

8. Used - Serious Matters

Lyric Snippet: “The wounds are gone and the pain still lingers. But this time I won’t stand by, I don’t need you in my life”

9. According to You - Orianthi

Lyric Snippet: “According to you, I’m stupid, I’m useless, I can’t do anything right”

10. Let It Land - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And everything we hate is something we just bought along the line”

11. Cold As You - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “You put up walls and paint them all a shade of grey. And I stood there loving you and wished them all away. And you come away with a great little story, of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”

12. Tied Together with a Smile - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “Hold on, baby you’re losing it. The water’s high, you’re jumping into it, and letting go, and no one knows. That you cry but you don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one. And you’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone.”

13. Human Interaction - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “I don’t know love. I don’t know hate. I am numb. Wish I could find the words to say. Asking please, as colors fade. I need to breathe. Before I turn the world to grey.”

14. Therapy - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “Give me therapy, I’m a walking travesty, but I’m smiling at everything. Therapy you were never a friend to me, and you can keep all your misery”

15. Scars - Alison Iraheta

Lyric Snippet: “Do you know how hard I’ve tried to become what you want me to be. Take me, this is all that I’ve got, this is all that I’m not, all that I’ll ever be. I got flaws, I got faults, keep searching for your perfect heart. It doesn’t matter who you are, we’ve all got our scars”

16. Hurts to Know - 1551

Lyric Snippet: “I can’t remember what I did to earn you by my side. I can’t surrender. I’ll fight as long as you’re in my life”

17. Spinning Bottles - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “He’s in a hotel room, with the tv on. Getting lost in the static with the curtains drawn, knowing this could be the time that gets her gone for good, he’d quit if he could. But one down, two down, three down, four, can’t even recognize the man in the mirror anymore”

18. Praying - Kesha

Lyric Snippet: “Well you were wrong and now the best is yet to come. ‘Cause I can make it on my own. And I don’t need you, I found a strength I’ve never known.”

19. Jersey On the Wall (I’m Just Asking) - Tenille Townes

Lyric Snippet: “If I ever get to heaven, you know I got a long list of questions. Like how do you make a snowflake, are you angry when the earth quakes? How does the sky change in a minutes, how do you keep this big rock spinning? Why can’t you stop a car from crashing? Forgive me, I’m just asking”

20. Five More Minutes - Scotty McCreery

Lyric Snippet: “Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Oh, but they just keep on flying right on by like it ain’t nothing, wish I had me a, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. Give myself five more minutes”

21. Dad’s Old Number - Cole Swindell

Lyric Snippet: “Sometimes I forget, these ten digits ain’t my lifeline anymore. Every now and then I dial them up when life gets tough or when the Braves score. Sorry about the one ring hang ups, early morning and late night wake ups. It was just me. In case you wondered, you’ve got dad’s old number.”

22. The Other Side - Lauren Alaina

Lyric Snippet: “There’s gonna be a lot of sadness on a lot of happy days, I’ll try to think of this moment, this place”

23. I Was Here - Beyonce

Lyric Snippet: “So they won’t forget I was here. I lived. I loved. I was here. I did, I’ve done, everything that I wanted and it was more than I thought it would be. I will leave my mark so everyone will know I was here.”

24. Gone Too Soon - Simple Plan

Lyric Snippet: “Like a shooting star, flying across the room. So fast, so far, you were gone too soon. You’re a part of me. And I’ll never be the same here without you. You were gone too soon.”

25. Amelia - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And you will always be perfect, you’ll always be beautiful, our hearts, will never forget you. You didn’t belong here, and it’s become so clear why heaven called your name.”

26. Heaven Right Now - Thomas Rhett

Lyric Snippet: “When the whole crew gets together, memory lane goes on forever. We twist a top and pour a little Jack D out.”

[fireemblemtcg]

“The Cipher Frontier!” Issue 58: “Cipher Will Never Die!”

"The Cipher Frontier! With Emma, Shade, Yuzu, Randal, Alice, Val, Niamh & Poe" was a regular column on the Fire Emblem Cipher website which summarized upcoming news concerning Cipher and other Fire Emblem materials. It was presented by the eight mascot characters. The following is a full translation of the 58th and final issue of the column, which was originally published on 31 March 2021.

More Fire Emblem Cipher translations!

Hello, everybody!!!!!!!!

It's been over five years since Cipher launched - and, for that matter, The Cipher Frontier! itself...

And today... we bring you the last one!

Sniff... So this is really it...

Aye, it certainly is a bitter occasion.

With the moment upon us, I find myself overcome with emotion. Yet at the same time, I cannot help but sorely wish that this day had never come at all.

Well, it... It doesn't bother m-m-me... Not... one...

BWAAAAAAAAAAAH! I C-C-CAN'T TAKE THIS!

E-easy, milady! You swore before we began that you would not cry!

I, too, owe very, very much to all of you, so... I am very sad.

Where there is a beginning, so too shall there be an end... It is an inevitability.

Still, one might argue that as long as there are still decks to play with and opponents to challenge... Cipher may be played for eternity. So think not on this as the end, for this is but a milestone of life.

Sniff... So this isn't farewell?

Not in the least! All of our players can still continue to get together to play Cipher. So as sad as you might be now to see the game end, the feeling won't last! And I, for one, would like to close out our final day with a smile.

To that end, I propose that we all share some parting words. You first, Emma!

Alrighty! Well, I've been here since the beginning, but... Back then, I was an absolute noob, wasn't I? I didn't have the faintest idea what a "Tea See Gee" even was!

But then I learned so much from Shade, and I presented news, participated in Tryout and Gathering events, and watched Live Broadcasts - and all of that gave me the chance to grow so much.

And then as the days went by, we got to meet Yuzu and Randal, Alice and Valjean, and Niamh and Poe, and we all always had a riot of a time playing Cipher together... It's all been like something out of a dream!

Lastly, I just want to say thank you...

To all of you who've been reading our column to date, thank you tho thuch!

Ha! Is that a slip of the tongue I hear?

Why, I do believe it was... And of all the words to flub, at that.

H-heh heh heh! I guess I am still just a kid after all... But mark my words, I'll be working even harder to become a mature, full-fledged knight! Okay, let's try this again... Thank you all!

Well, I'm next! I was primarily tasked with hosting this column and presenting news.

But the work introduced me to more and more friends, and to a constant stream of announcements that were news to me myself... To lose it is like I've also lost my reason to exist, but at least I am left with fond memories of it all.

My desire to convey the appeal of Cipher to others hasn't wavered in the slightest, but... this is the last time it will ever happen here. Alas. Still, I will always be rooting for all of you, even if we don't see each other.

There will always be a bond between us - always. Remember that whenever you play Cipher and see our cards. On this, you have my word! This has been Shade, shepherd of wayward lambs, saying farewell!

Alright, then. You're next, Yuzu!

...

Huh? Yuzu! What's gotten into you? Would you just get out here?

Er, forgive me. When everybody's gaze turned upon me, I could not help but immediately seek shelter...

Oh, yeah. You never did like public speaking, did you, Yuzu?

Of course! We had a devil of a time convincing you to come out at all for your very first column.

E-enough! That was many years ago: a d-d-difficulty that I have long since moved past!

Hrr-hrr-hrr... heh-HEM! L-l-let us, er, begin anew.

I am Yuzu. My contribution to this column was to introduce cards that afforded new styles of play... only to let a haze of utter passion promptly consume me and hence spend my every waking hour crafting decks from them and trialling them in matches.

You always were one to cry, "I must test these cards at once!" and throw yourself into obsessive research.

As such, I have acquired an eye for strategy, forged in the fires of Cipher, to incorporate into my prior mastery of the martial arts - and with that, at long last, I have come to an understanding of the very heart of warcraft.

Further, as a consequence I may declare with confidence that, should I ever find my brother, I shall be able to hold my head high for all that I have grown in his absence. For that, you have my most heartfelt gratitude. So end my parting words!

Thank you, Yuzu. Right, it's your turn, Randal!

Huh? Oh, right then!

I've got a motto: always take your games deathly serious, and always make your own fun on the job… And, well, this has been my chance to prove those words true.

I mean yeah, I'm a wanderer at heart; I might've stuck around a bit too long... but that's just because this was all a hell of a lot of fun.

Oh, I agree... It was a HELL of a lot of fun!

GAH! It's... It's you!

Well, well. We have a stranger among us!

Pah! "Stranger," indeed. This hair, this face, this ribbon... None of this ring a bell?

Eh? Do you... do you mean Randal?

Indeed! I am...

...His son, no? It is nice to meet you!

OI!

What are you on about?! I AM Randal, just from the past - younger than the one you know!

It's happening again! The exact same argument!

This really must be the end, if HE'S here...

This is how you treat me? I have to hear that the last column is happening at the eleventh hour and make a mad dash to make it in time?! Bloody hell...

What is this? A being under the thrall of the Boundless Chaos? How intriguing. I must conduct a thorough examination at once...

H-hey! What are you doing, Niamh?! You look deathly serious... Oi, that's enough! Stay back! I... I've got a sword!

Well, er, I'm just about all out of time, but I just want to say it was a hoot being on the Frontier. Hope I see you all again someday. Adios!

He vanished?! Still more intriguing...

Sigh... What a pain in the arse, if I do say so myself. Although... I must admit, we do agree on one thing: I'd also be glad to see you all again.

This might be one farewell, but here's hoping we cross paths once more! And if we do, hey, why not play a match with this old fart? And that's all she wrote from ol' Randal!

Thank you. Next, let's hear from Alice and Valjean!

Heh heh! At last! Shall we, Val?

Yes, milady.

The two of us made our debut circa Series 10, and ever since that day, the Frontier never failed to be a most thrilling time. Would you agree, Val?

Yes, milady.

My objective in making this journey was simple: to experience much in my travels, such that I might someday return home and become a great ruler indeed. But instead, I first became a most superior, most brilliant Cipher player! Utterly invincible! Favored by fortune! And whatnot. Didn't I, Val?

Yes, milady.

I remember... that every time a Cipher release day came, I would be up all night from their eve, crafting decks and playing matches with the others. Oh, it was such fun! Wasn't it, Val?

...Yes, mi... mi... milady! Sniff...

V-Val?! What is the matter with you?

I am most moved. That my most capricious liegelady could at last find in Cipher such an engaging hobby, such good company, and such a source of training - and that she could grow so greatly as a woman.

Val...

We have been truly blessed to have had all of this: all of you, who welcomed us so warmly into the Frontier fold, and all of the Cipher players out in the world. I wish to offer you my gratitude for everything.

To be honest... I have something to say on that matter myself. Thank you, truly, for everything. I will never, ever, ever, EVER forget even a single day that we spent here together!

Nor shall I!

...Having said that, milady, I fear that you are still yet unready for the throne! From today onward, we must redouble your original leadership training efforts! I fully intend to prepare for you an intensive study regimen.

I-I-I beg your pardon?! You will not speak to me so! If I see even a single incorrect mark, you would do well to prepare yourself, for I will work you to the very bone for the rest of your days!

By all means, do it. But be prepared, for I have a lifetime's worth of admonishments at the ready.

Heh... Best of luck to the two of you!

Your turn, Niamh!

I was present from the 37th column onward... To be precise, it was in the "Love and Bonds Special Talk CD" audio drama that came as a set with an artbook, sold at Comiket 93.

My inquiry and research into the miscellaneous phenomena of this world, and the Boundless Chaos in particular, shall continue, but...

...

Well?! Don't tell me that's all you have to say!

...No. To me, my inquiry into Cipher represented the introducton of a new, major challenge into my life. Cipher decks... Gameplay... Which solution is correct, and which is optimal... As yet, I still have found no answers. As such, it is vital that going forward, I collaborate with a broad sample of Cipher players and find an answer...

So what you're saying is, you enjoyed playing Cipher with everyone, and you're gonna keep playing forever!

That, er... Ahem! That's pretty much it.

Cryptic remarks if I ever heard them, but certainly Niamh-ish.

Right, let's keep this going with Poe!

Only a year and a half has passed since I was welcomed to this column, and sadly, in the end our association has been brief. But I was able to have a very fulfilling time with you.

Attending that Winter Comiket thing with all of you, playing the "Recite and Play: Heroes Iroha" card game being sold there... They were very happy days.

And in all of that, I have always been monitoring Niamh...

...

Hee hee... You have been a good girl here, have you not? I do nothing to good girls.

If one of you becomes wicked, at that time I shall... Heh... Heh heh heh heh heh...

So, I pray that we never have an unpleasant reunion, and end my speech. Thank you. This has been Poe!

Heh... Let's keep that warning in mind.

...With that, have all of us spoken?

Tsk tsk... We aren't actually finished just yet! Since this is our last column, allow me to call upon a special guest!

...A guest? Wait, you don't mean...

Ta-daaaaa! Here he is!

Hello, everyone! I am Kawade, the producer of Fire Emblem Cipher.

K-K-KawadeP!

My, what a surprise!

The publication of the final Frontier coincides with, at last, the end-of-March termination of event support for Cipher. So I thought I would share a message for all of our readers and Cipher players.

If you count from when Cipher was first announced, roughly six years have passed. That's a long time, yet it's just flown by... These have been very busy years, but also wonderful ones, absolutely full of memories and events.

In that time we've constantly taken on new challenges - not just the production of Cipher itself, but Twitter content, live broadcasts, and staging events all around Japan.

And through all of that, we've had the chance to meet so many fans of Fire Emblem and Cipher... That was not only the most fun part of all, but a part that made us happy.

Although, we were unfortunately unable to hold any of our planned events for our final year, and for that I am truly sorry to all of you.

Still, we staff stuck with it to the very end, and as a result were able to complete Cipher as a fantastic game that can be played for years and years to come. For that, we are proud of ourselves.

It was thanks to all of you, who kept on supporting us, that we could continue our work to this standard all the way to the final series. I am overcome with gratitude to you all!

Production might have come to an end, but Fire Emblem Cipher will never die! It would make me happy if, every now and then, you might bring your cards out and play with them. Thank you all, truly, for everything!

And that concludes KawadeP's remarks!

Whew!

That, I believe, is everything that we wished to share.

Aye, I've got nothing to add.

So I suppose this is it: the end of the Cipher Frontier's long run.

Er... Shade? Can I say one last thing?

Hm? What is it, Emma?

Thank you for taking the lead in hosting this last one... And thank you so much for all the things you've taught me!

(Emma...)

H-hey! That's enough of that! You're about to make me cry, and that wouldn't be ending this day with a smile, would it?

Heh. I guess not!

So hey, let's give them one last, enthusiastic That Thing before Shade bursts into tears!

Very well, then. That Thing it is! This has been The Cipher Frontier!

With Emma...

Shade...

Yuzu...

Randal...

Alice...

Val...

Niamh...

...and Poe.

Now, then...

Let's do it, everyone!

One...

Two...

CIPHER!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, EVERYBODY!!!!!!!!

...

...

...

...

FIRE EMBLEM CIPHER The Cipher Frontier! With Emma, Shade, Yuzu, Randal, Alice, Val, Niamh & Poe

Emma Emma continues to train in order to become a full-fledged pegasus knight. Her tireless Cipher training also continues, but she has yet to show much improvement at the game.

Shade Veteran mage that she is, Shade continues to teach the next generation. Many seeking to become almighty Cipher players have come to her, only to struggle bitterly under her tutelage - yet at the same time, to Emma and the others, she remains a nurturing guiding hand.

Yuzu Yuzu embarked on a journey of martial training, all the while following whispers of her brother's whereabouts... although evidently, she does return from her travels from time to time, bearing souvenirs, to partake in Cipher matches with all of her friends.

Randal Randal made a truly once-in-a-lifetime wager, only to go into hiding thereafter. Some rumors attest that he won, and that with that windfall he secured for himself a carefree life of quiet leisure in some southern land - others, that he met with a catastrophic loss, and was hence forced into labor in someplace.

Alice Alice's travels continue, as she seeks all the experience that she needs to become a true leader. Although at first she struggled, she grew to thoroughly enjoy it, and so she will persist in her journey without ever taking a break to return home... Or so she tells herself, at least.

Valjean Valjean continues to travel all across the land with his liegelady. Witnessing Alice grow ever stronger and wiser by the day, he cannot help but feel conflicting feelings of joy and loneliness beneath the privacy of his helm.

Niamh Even as she continues in her pursuit of wisdom, Niamh silently carries out research into Cipher. Her seminal monograph, "A Compendium of Cipher Decks," is over 100 volumes in length, and by all accounts is still in print to this day.

Poe Poe vanished in her hunt for evil, and her whereabouts remain unknown. However, according to the afterword of "A Compendium of Cipher Decks," she and Niamh have since fought to the death on many an occasion.

The End...???

[sokkisky]

~baby bird part five~

Want to make a request?: https://forms.gle/NyZgUcqkCPzHRvVn6

Ghost School RP Discord: https://discord.gg/5mschvebTn

Rating: SFW (Angst, Fluff)

Pairings: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Y/N 

Warnings: Kidnapping, Pain/Torture (Not to the child, no toucha da child), Violence, Blood

A/N: OMG THIS IS INSANE! This is seriously a PART FIVE. This is such a cute little series. Part Five is a bit of a prequel though, it takes place BEFORE THE CHILD CAN USE THE WINGS. They’re not even there yet. So that’s a little important. Once again if any of the warnings trigger you, please do not read. And in the immortal words of Aphmau “No toucha da child”. No harm will come to the baby, nobody will be punting any children around here. But yeah! It’s crazy because this is how this whole series started. A kidnapping. Full circle. I’m planning on keeping this going if it continues to be requested, it’s so adorable and yeah, here are the requests. Yes with an S. 

I think I request something where hawks x reader where there baby gets kidnapped something like that just in case I didn’t there we go angst to fluff <3

Sorry sorry me again LMAO I love your writing ❤️ Hawks x reader I think I requested this just in case though where the baby gets kidnapped so does the reader the reader gets tortured to save her baby but LUCKILY hawks brought endeavor and the rest of the hero commission and saves her but the baby is safe though ( no pain on the baby ) angst to fluff

Baby x reader gets kidnapped hawks series!!!! 

READER AND THEIR CHILD GET KIDNAPPEDDDDDD and HAWKS has to SAVE THEM! 

As you can see, this is a highly requested topic. Thank you @wafflesareniceandfluffy and anons. I’m vv excited and everything. While the second request is slightly different, i think I’m going to stick to the whole Hawks’ saves them. Also I’ve been asked a few questions 

Your name? - Sokki <3 

      2. Can we have links to the rest of the series? - Yes <3

Part One 

Part Two

Part Three 

Part Four

Now let’s get started! Remember to take care of yourselves, be kind to yourself and you ARE WORTH THE WORLD! Please don’t ever forget that. I hope you guys enjoy! 

 Keigo slammed his hand on the desk. His wings fluttered sporadically with fury. 

Again, he let it happen again. 

You were gone. His precious baby was gone. He lost the two most important things to him. 

Again 

~~~

“Fro yo!” your two year old excited said pointing to the frozen yogurt stall up the street. You smiled and looked over to Keigo. “She’s been good today, I’ll go get the fro yo, what do you want?” you asked him, holding your daughter in your arms as she wiggled trying to get to the frozen yogurt stand. Keigo smiled and kissed your forehead, “I’m fine, I just have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back okay?” he said. You nodded as he walked off and you headed towards the fro yo stand with your daughter. 

Keigo walked out, his wings relaxed as he looked around. He saw the frozen yogurt cart, but you weren’t there. No biggie he’d thought you’d ordered by now. He looked around the plaza, trying to see you or his kid. He opened his phone and called you. 

No answer. 

He texted you, not panicking yet. This was a public place, surely if something happened someone would see, 

Right? 

He checked his phone again, still no answer. He called you again, and again, and again. 

No answer. 

Now he began to panic. He went up to the frozen yogurt stall but the worker said he hadn’t served anyone that matched your description. Nor anyone with a kid. Keigo hoisted himself in the air, flying above the people looking for you. He called out your name to no answer. He desperately flew around the plaza searching for you. 

It was clear however, that you were gone. 

~~~

His eyes were clouded with tears as he screamed out. Crying in a mix of fury and sadness. It had been two days now and there were no traces of you or his daughter, like the two of you never existed. He clutched your family photo in his hands tightly as he leaned over on his knees, crying out. His tears dripped to the floor as his body shook. He dropped his forehead to the ground, the tears never stopping. He sobbed loudly unlike he’d ever cried before. His body hurt, his chest felt as if it was going to cave in and collapse on itself. His heart stung. 

He failed you. 

He lost you. 

His mind raced with all the horrible things that could be happening. He remembered how he found you last time, but now they had his daughter. He wanted to throw up thinking about all of the horrible things they would do to his daughter, to you, his only family. 

He sat on the ground, upright now, his hands trembling as he stared at the photo. You were there in his arms as he flew above the ground. Your baby in your arms. You both smiled brightly and your daughter was laughing. 

Her laugh. Keigo’s pain was sent back in waves as the realization hit that he might never hear her laughs again. He’d never hear her excited giggles or her tiny laughter when they played hide and seek. He’d never again tickle her or fly up into the air with her. 

He wanted to go out, to search again. Just one more time to go and see if he could find any clues. He hadn’t slept peacefully in so long his mind filled with nightmares about what you may be enduring. 

What if you were dead? 

He got up, outstretching his wings and took off towards the city again, looking around each corner, into every alleyway, moving everything around that might be a hidden door. He searched the city sector by sector, up down and all around. He watched the people, watched their movements. Listened for any words that may be clues. He felt his hope begin to drain. 

That was until he heard a faint and distant scream. 

~~~

“No! No!” you heard your daughter shout. Her screams were so loud. Your body was bruised and battered. Neither of you had eaten or drank in the past two days. You stayed as alert as you could, shielding your daughter from the hurt that was happening to you. You tried to keep her happy, but it was hard when you were so beaten, your body in constant pain and ache. 

You always kept on a brave smile for her. 

~~~ 

“Stop it! My daddy is gonna get you!” your daughter screamed from the cage they’d put her in. 

“Close your eyes!” you shouted back at her sternly as the first guy pulled out a large whip. “Welcome to our encore sweet heart, enjoy the show!” he shouted, the whip coming down hard on your chained up body. 

~~~ 

You looked to the doorway, watching as the first guys chased after your daughter. “Run baby run!” you shouted, praying she’d make it to the door on time. You watched as your daughter made it out of your sight but you could still hear her. 

Your hands were chained to the walls, your arms out. You heard her banging on the steel entrance before another loud scream erupted from the hallway. You scream out your daughter’s name, the guy must’ve caught up to her. 

Tears flowed down your eyes as you heard a loud thud, like a skull hitting the hard cement wall. 

Your daughter was silent. 

You cried, calling her her name, begging for an answer. There was no response. 

You broke down, sobbing, your precious daughter,

 until a little red feather landed at your feet. 

You looked up with tearful eyes to see an angry Keigo in the doorway, your daughter safely in his arms. He stalked into the room, his anger practically radiating off of him, creating a dark aura in the room. The guy who was watching you nearly stumbled before blowing a whistle. Dozens of men ran out of the back room, armed with clubs and knives. 

You relaxed, your daughter was safe. 

A storm of red filled the room, each feather flying with precise accuracy. Keigo pulled his daughter to his chest, covering her ears and singing close to them, drawing out the sound of the screaming and pained men. Drowning out the voices begging for mercy. 

He didn’t want her to know those sounds right now. 

Once his feathers finally settled the room was nothing but a lost battlefield. Bodies laid limp across the floor. A mix of blood, shredded clothing and tears scattered around. A feather moved to your chains and undoing them before a group of them hoisted you up carrying you to Hawks. 

Some feathers moved to lift your daughter, holding her to face the ceiling so she wouldn’t see the carnage her father had made. He held you in his arms bridal style before using his feathers to set your daughter in your arms. Her face was buried in Keigo’s chest as he instructed. 

Keigo walked out holding the two of you, tears running down his cheeks. 

~~~

Keigo flew the two of you to a summer home away from the city and far from your old home. He put his daughter to bed, holding her extremely close for a long time, even after she’d fallen asleep, before joining you in the living room to help you heal and take care of your wounds. You stood in the middle of the living room, wrapping gauze around your slit and cut torso, the marks not stinging as much now. 

Keigo walked in and saw you. He pulled you into his arms. His head fell to your shoulder and he cried. 

“I’m so sorry songbird. I shouldn’t have ever let this happen. I’m supposed to protect you!” he cried out, his hands clutching your cropped shirt. You held him back, tears daring to drop from your eyes as you watched him break down into a pit of guilt. 

He sank to his knees in front of you, his head buried in your tummy as he cried, his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“I don’t deserve you if I can’t keep you safe, can’t keep the two of you safe.” 

You squatted down, your head resting on his as he held you, you ran your fingers through his hair. His body shook as he cried, holding onto you tighter than he’d held before. 

You planted a kiss on his forehead prompting him to look up at you, his eyes red and puffy, soaked in tears. 

“Thank you Keigo.”

[emilycollins00]

Watching over you (Sakuya centric)

I’ve been working on this for so long honestly at one point I didn’t know if it would ever see the light, but thankfully here it is! 💕

-

She believes she would recognize his smile even if she lost her sight. Even if she couldn’t touch him anymore and all she could do was listen. Because when he does it, his sounds are bubbly light and silky, tickling her skin. And when he pouts, on those rare occasions, they’re sharper and a bit of a mess, but she adores it nonetheless.

His son had his husband’s smile, that was unquestionable. She knew the moment she laid her eyes on him on that spring afternoon, cherry and chubby cheeks making way to match his hair. The first time Sakuya laughed-actually pretty soon after being born, like he’d been awaiting impatiently all those months inside her belly- she distinguished that familiar brightness and peace. It was no wonder he was a spring baby. She clutches him tightly against her chest, and wonders if she’ll ever feel sad again.

“Good sleeper as always” a man remarks, entering the living room “He gets that from you, you know”

“Let’s cross fingers he stays like this when he starts growing up too” she chuckles, and he joins, looking at his son with yearning. Sakuya might look almost like him, but from what he had learnt, he definitely takes more after his wife in terms of personality. He is curious and gentle, just like her.

He sits down on the sofa resting with them, and she leans in. Sakuya is still fast asleep, but she has this sudden, selfish wish to wake him up, just to enjoy those big crimson eyes- one of the few physical traits similar to her- again.

“Our little miracle” she hears his husband whispers. The words hit her as shaky, like a soft earthquake. She turns to look at him and finds his cheeks wet. He tries to move away so the tears don’t hit the baby, but a few still fall on her.

“He has your smile, did you notice?” she says.  

He wipes his eyes, smiling embarrassed while Sakuya squirms, curling his tiny fingers around the blanket that they picked a few weeks before he was born. 

It's not been that long since Sakuya entered in their lives. But both know him already like a part of themselves. Every strand of hair. Every like and dislike. And they’ll learn more and more about him, for the rest of their lifes, and his. Even when they are gone. That much is true.

.

Sakuya Sakuma had no real clear memory of his parents.

He could recount all he remembered of his mom on one hand, and from his dad on the other. As time passed and he grew up though, those memories became tangled, sinking deeper in his brain, the list getting shorter.

So short that at a certain point, Sakuya noticed he couldn’t remember his mother’s soft laugh or his father’s clear smile anymore. His relatives never really bothered to keep photos of them, so he desperately held onto the memories of his mother’s crimson eyes and his dad’s scratchy face by drawings and sketches he made himself.

It was one of the things he regretted most whenever he went to pray during their anniversary, not really knowing how they looked like.

“…it was really close, but Tsumugi-san and the rest of the winter troupe managed to win! So now we get to keep performing at Mankai. Here, see?” Sakuya turned to his school bag excited, taking out of it a piece of paper and placing it carefully next to the small bouquet of flowers “This is one of the tickets. I asked director for one to keep as a memory. We even made a celebration afterwards which was super fun, though Sakyo-san insisted we should all be more mindful of our still new image” he giggled, reminiscing the not too long-ago event “Ah, but I’m doing my best to balance school work of course! So you really don’t have to worry”

He hadn’t told anyone at the dorm about today. Not because he thought it was troubling, but it was something he had always done alone. It felt strange talking about it, although he was sure no one would have minded it, had he asked for company.

“Director, the spring troupe… everyday is so much fun now thanks to everyone” he lifted his head to the sky and then to the names engraved on the graves “It would have been nice if you met them”

But just as the show had to go on, life did too, Sakuya knew that more than anyone. So dusting away the dirt from his knees, he stood up. And when he arrived at the dorm, he did his best to put on the brightest smile. And if anyone noticed any change in his behaviour, no one mentioned it.

.

Now it was past midnight, and he couldn’t sleep.

It had been a while since he had a night like this. When it happens, he usually goes to Itaru’s or Azuma’s- sometimes even director’s- but this time the uneasiness was manageable, so he rose softly from the bed, shuffling around and leaving the room.

Sakuya walked carefully across the hallway to the living room and then into the kitchen, where the sound tended to distance itself from the bedrooms.

As usual, there was a plate of scones left by Omi on the cupboard, just in case someone woke up. He decided to warm a cup of milk and set some aside.

He leaned against the sink until milk was warmed up, inhaling the steam from the cup and heading towards the courtyard. After setting everything besides him on the bench, he sat and stared out into the night sky, watching stars twinkle and listening to the crickets sing.

His attention was suddenly caught by a plushie on the floor. A pink one. He grabbed it, staring at it tilting his head. He had never seen it in the dorm before.

“Sakuya?”

The male voice he heard didn’t match anyone’s in the dorm but weirdly enough, it didn’t alert him. On the contrary, it set off a strange nostalgic feeling withing him, somehow. He questioned it, of course, as he left the plushie aside and turned. And then he saw them.

It was as if every memory and repressed thought emerged all at once against his chest with blazing strength.

He stood up slowly, arms laying limply on his sides. The silence before him was deafening and Sakuya was sure his ears were ringing. His eyes definitely wide.

He felt his throat clench painfully with the force it takes to not let tears out. Because it had to be a dream, but their eyes were glistening under the stars and they felt warm.

This time, it was his mother who spoke, so sweet and softly he could have melted on the spot “You’ve grown”

At this point, he was too exhausted to think logically. His feet began moving almost at the same time as theirs did towards him. All the doubts, the regrets, the worries that’d been stealing his sleep, kept gradually letting go of him with each step he gave. He threw himself into their arms, making small, gasping noises at first, and then he was crying, sobbing in earnest, fingernails digging into his parent’s skin so hard he feared he may be hurting them. But they didn’t pull away, didn’t even consider it.

‘I miss you, I miss you so much’ he kept whispering over and over, and every time he did, they would tighten their grip ever so slightly.

Slowly, he managed to calm down and step back, but gripped both of their hands tightly, as if telling them not to let go.

“Sakuya-”

“I’m sorry” he inhaled sharply, trying to calm down. He didn’t want to sound as if he was complaining “I’m doing okay. M-Mankai has become my home, you see. They welcomed me when they didn’t have to and you- I know you would have taken care of me, if you could have so-”

Sakuya looked up, and it startled him, seeing his mother crying too “Mom…?”

She let go of his hands and pulled him against her “Oh, honey” she breathed shakily “We are so sorry for leaving you alone”

“No, please” Sakuya said, his eyes were burning. That was what he didn’t want to happen “I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t- that’s not your-”

“But your feelings are still there” she coaxed, caressing his cheek, taking away the tears from the corner of his eyes “And you’re allowed to feel them” 

“We have been watching you all this time” his father placed his hand on his back.

And Sakuya broke down again.

Because just how many times had he fervently wished for that to be true. To hear them. How many times when he was in school and saw children with their families he swallowed and smile, imagining himself in their place.

He was trembling, filled with too many things he wanted to say that he was overwhelmed where to start.

“Did- Did you see me on stage…?”

His mother cupped his face between her hands and nodded, smiling. She looked beautiful under the moonlight, Sakuya couldn’t help thinking. He wanted to stay there, enjoying her crimson eyes, just to make sure they still matched his own “You are the light and joy of our lives, honey. And that smile of yours will be the light that will guide and help others in the future, I’m sure”

“We love you, Sakuya” his father nodded, kissing the top of his head and wrapping his arms around them tightly once more. He was trembling “From the bottom of our hearts. Never forget that”

He doesn’t know how long they stood there hugging, taking in each other’s warmth, but it lasted until all of his tears had stopped and dried. And when they broke apart, this time, he managed to give them a real smile.

“I’ll do my best to make you both proud”

They showered him with a bigger one “Being who you are is enough, Sakuya. We are already proud. We always will”

“I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad... so much”

.

Next time he blinked, the wall welcomed Sakuya into his room. He was lying on the side, the clock next to his bed reading five in the morning.

He turned so that his body faced the ceiling, giving a short glance around still disoriented. He didn’t remember what he was dreaming about, memories were fazing, but his chest was about to burst with a relief he hadn’t felt in a while flooding over him.

It was so overwhelmingly cozy it made him shiver.

He looked outside the window, noticing one of the stars blinked a bit brighter than the rest. Sakuya decided to embrace himself against the pillows, placing a hand over his chest.

It was a feeling he couldn’t name, but it felt warm, and he smiled.

____________________________________________________________

I stan Sakuya x Happiness

Have a wonderful day, loves 💕

[alj4890]

Delicate

(Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Nevarkis) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crackship Series

A/N This is the finale to this miniseries. Thanks so much for indulging me in this crackship of mine. Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did imagining it💗

@jooous​ ​ ​ @krsnlove​ ​ @nomadics-stuff​ ​   @twinkleallnight​ ​ @motorcitymademadame​ ​

Masterlist

Part 6

December 30th, Cordonia's Royal Palace...

Tomorrow night’s event might be the first ball in the history of Drake's years in Cordonia to actually cause a certain excitement. He usually put up with the pomp and traditions to simply be with those he cared about. For years it was to support Liam, then going meant he could hang out with Riley, Hana, and Maxwell.

And then there were his activities down in secret for a year with Olivia.

He knew she would be arriving soon. Her absence from Cordonia had been one he felt more acutely than any other. His failure in telling her how he felt about her, his inability to have a civil conversation, even his voicemail had kept him fixated on this date.

He intended for this new year to involve a new relationship with Olivia. He simply needed to find a moment alone with her.

Which as he entered the drawing room Riley and Liam used frequently for their closest friends, he realized that was going to be more difficult than he originally thought. All their friends had come home for the ball.

"I can't believe they gave us that ridiculous moniker." Thomas shook his head.

"The press isn't always known for their intelligence." Liam said, fighting a smile.

"Thomanda." Amanda laughed just saying it. "It sounds like some weird foot fungus cream."

"The press have had five years to come up with anything better than that." Thomas wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. "They should have combined our last names. Brunt is more tolerable than Thomanda."

Maxwell rolled off the couch laughing. "We now have to come up with crazy couple names for all of us."

"We were given Riam." Riley replied. "Personally I prefer Liley, but Riam stuck."

"Naxwell or Madia." Amanda said between giggles while pointing at Maxwell and Nadia. "That's your couple name."

"Naxwell sounds like a snack cake or cookie." Riley added with a chuckle.

"We are sweet." Maxwell responded, cuddling Nadia close.

Hana sighed at seeing them all so happy together. "What would mine and Rashad's be?"

"Rashana?" Riley offered.

"Oh I like that so much better than what I thought." Amanda laughed. "I at first thought Hahad."

The group burst into laughter while more couple names were bandied about.

"So what do we dub Olivia and Ethan?" Liam asked.

"Ethalivia?" Hana offered.

"Olithan?" Maxwell added.

"Oooh! Olithan!" Riley exclaimed. "Sounds like a sea monster. Olivia will love it!"

Drake tried to ignore what was being said as he joined them.

Maxwell noticed his frown and immediately changed the subject.

"Hey," he said over the lingering chuckles. "What's everyone's resolutions going to be?"

"Get married." Rashad grinned at Hana.

"That's your plans for next week." Maxwell winked at them. "What are you going to resolve to do this new year?"

"Spend time with my husband." Hana replied with a slight blush.

"I think more time with our significant others is what we will all resolve to do." Liam added.

Drake bit back a bitter retort. At least they knew they would have their significant others. He was praying for a chance to talk to his.

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

Olivia stood in front of the mirror one last time to check her reflection. It was strange to see the same old features once more in the all too familiar guest room when she felt so changed. Stepping off the plane and seeing Cordonia's capital didn't affect her like it once did. Somewhere, somehow, she had moved on past the pride of her title and country.

She still loved her home, but she now knew she was capable of so much more than merely being the Duchess of Lythikos. She wondered if the changes would be visible to anyone else. If no one noticed it, she at least had proved it to herself.

Her gaze left her reflection to focus on Ethan finishing dressing. Her lips curved at the red shirt he had pulled on with his black slacks.

She wondered if he knew he had chosen to wear her house colors.

He glanced up and noticed her staring.

"Is this the wrong thing to wear to dinner tonight?" He asked.

"No." She walked over to him.

Ethan paused in buttoning his shirt when she looped her arms around his neck.

"What made you choose this shirt?" She asked, threading her fingers in his hair.

His lips curved as they brushed her cheek. "Thomas told me about ways we men can show our support for our noble ladies." He tugged her closer. "I thought I should start out as I intend to for my fiancée."

Olivia cupped his cheek with her left hand, her eyes darting toward the sparkling proof that she was marrying the man that held her. Their lips met in a tender kiss that made her want to forget about joining anyone else and simply stay here alone with him.

"Shouldn't we hurry?" Ethan asked when she began to toy with the buttons of his shirt.

His hands moved along her back, searching for her zipper.

"We should." She pressed another kiss to his lips before easing back.

Her smile was warm as she admired him. "Red is a good color on you."

"As long as you approve." He finished buttoning his shirt.

Olivia handed him his tie he had set out earlier.

He looped it around her waist and used it to pull her close.

"Doctor?" She chided. "You have a king and queen waiting to welcome you."

"I think you know who I think deserves my attention." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Are we telling everyone tonight?"

"About our engagement?" Olivia asked.

Ethan nodded. "I want you to have all the excitement and whatever they do here to celebrate when a duchess gets engaged."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need a ball, Ethan."

Her heart softened once more when he whispered he wanted to give her everything she deserved.

"We can tell them," her breath hitched when she felt his mouth against that special spot under her ear, "if you want to."

"I want to." He muttered against her skin. "I want everyone to know we are together." He lifted his head and smiled at her. "I want them to see how proud I am that you chose me to marry."

"Ethan." Her frown firmed. "Don't you dare make me emotional right now when I'm about to see everyone."

He chuckled as he let her go. "Very well, duchess. I'll behave."

She hmphed while returning to the mirror to retouch her lipstick.

Once they were both deemed presentable, they left their chambers and gathered Naveen to take downstairs.

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

While the buzz of conversations filled the room, Drake escaped to the wet bar.

"Would you mind pouring me a glass of the Pinot Noir?" Regina asked, joining him.

"Yes mam."

She cleared her throat. "Sir Drake, I--"

"Just Drake, mam." He reminded her.

She smiled at his insistence she not use any honorific. "Drake, is something wrong?"

He handed her a wine glass. "No mam." He poured the wine for her. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem a touch distracted."

"I do?"

She chuckled. "Yes. Usually by this time you would have called a halt to all the talk of weddings and romantic, as you call it, nonsense."

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "I guess I've been tuning them out tonight."

"I see." She patted his arm. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then."

He straightened up when Olivia stepped into the room, flanked by Ethan and the other doctor Drake had yet to meet.

The older of the two men had a friendly smile on his face that disappeared when he saw Regina.

"Gin?" Delight flooded his surprised facial expression. "Is it really you?"

Everyone looked back and forth between the Queen Mother and Naveen.

"Did he just call Regina, Gin?" Riley whispered.

"I've never heard anyone call her that." Liam whispered back.

Regina had her hand pressed to her heart. "Naveen! You're the Dr. Banerji Lady Olivia talked about?!"

Naveen met her in the middle of the room, his hands taking hers.

"What is going on?" Olivia whispered.

"I haven't got a clue." Ethan whispered back. "Naveen did a fellowship here when he was fresh out of medical school. Maybe, the two met during that time."

"It seems they did more than meet." Olivia pointed out.

"After all these years," Naveen said, "You are still just as beautiful as when we met."

Regina's blush and almost girlish laughter made everyone eager to hear more.

"We both know that is not true." Regina replied with an elegant wave of dismissal.

Naveen's smile grew when he felt her squeeze his hand.

Remembering their audience, the two let go of one another.

"You two know each other?" Riley asked, loving their flustered states.

"We met when I first came to Cordonia." Naveen explained. His gaze softened on the Queen Mother. "I didn't know my way around and had gotten horribly lost when a lovely young woman pulled up in a convertible and took pity on me."

"In a convertible, huh?" Maxwell was already imagining a young Regina with her blonde hair blowing in the breeze as she pulled over to help a young, handsome doctor. "Then what happened?"

Regina's blush grew. "I offered to drive him back to the house he had rented and one thing led to another and we--"

"I begged her to be my tour guide during my stay." Naveen explained to keep her from having to reveal too much. "It ended up being the best summer of my life."

She shook her head while smiling. "It was the last time I was ever able to be free to do and act as I wanted."

"What happened, mam, that changed all that?" Hana asked. "

"My first official social season began that fall. Adelaide was being courted by Godfrey and my parents insisted I do all I could to put our family in the best light possible so that an arrangement could be made between the two." A brief sadness passed over her. "Once that started, I was sent from one house party to the next then began a tour through Europe on diplomatic endeavors. Before I knew it, two years had gone by and Naveen had left Cordonia by the time I returned."

The older doctor grimaced. "I had been accepted to Edenbrook and was unable to find Gin to tell her."

Ethan quietly studied Naveen, wondering if this was why his mentor had never married.

"Well, now you two can catch up," Nadia encouraged. "Without worry of having to part."

Regina didn't bother to hide her happiness at that thought. "I would love that."

"So would I." Naveen added.

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

Once all the introductions were made, the group fell into smaller ones to talk.

Keeping mostly to himself on the other side of the room, Drake couldn't take his eyes off Olivia. She seemed so different than the last time she had been in Cordonia. Not just in appearance, but there was something else there he couldn't quite identify.

She had left her hair down in loose curls. He couldn't recall when he had seen her do that here. He had once heard her say that her hair down could be used against her if an enemy were to attack.

She must have lost that worry.

Olivia almost appeared more approachable. Her smirk didn't hold the same bite it used to. She listened without too much sarcasm to the conversations going on around her.

She looks soft.

Drake took another gulp of his drink. Where had that thought come from? Olivia Nevarkis was many things, but soft? Impossible.

He noticed that Ethan remained close to her. The little touches going on between them irritated Drake. Ethan would occasionally touch her back when turning to say something to her. Olivia would respond in kind. He would brush a lock of hair over her shoulder. She would place her hand on his arm when pointing out something.

All innocent, yet all given with hidden meanings.

The smiles they shared. The heated glances. The--

A sparkle on Olivia's hand caught his attention.

No, it can't be--

"I have an announcement." Olivia raised her voice. "I wanted you all to be the first ones to know."

Drake felt his insides go numb as if his body knew the pain that was about to happen and wanted to try and spare him.

"Ethan asked me to marry him." Olivia looked up at her doctor. Her smile, so unlike any in Cordonia had seen, was tender and full of affection. "And I said, yes."

Everyone spoke at once their delight and rushed to hug and congratulate the couple.

All that is except Drake.

His empty glass slipped through his fingers and thudded softly on the floor.

Did she listen to my message? Did she decide to not give me a chance to apologize in person? Why would she choose him without first seeing what we could have?

Maxwell slipped away from the laughter and teasing of Team Olithan. Swiping up his friend's glass, he placed an arm along Drake's shoulders and led him back to the bar.

"She didn't give me a chance." He muttered to Maxwell. "I told her I wanted to try and she instead picks that doctor. She didn't bother to even say she didn't want me."

Maxwell poured him a strong one and handed it off. "I know." He sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Drake."

Drake downed the contents, poured another, then after it was gone he drank one more that was filled to the brim. "Don't be." He slammed the empty glass down. "If you have to feel sorry for anyone, feel it for Ramsey." He jerked his chin toward the couple. "He's the one stuck with her."

"Drake, I think you should still try to talk--"

"No thanks." Drake snapped. "What’s left to say?" He shrugged. "I dodged a bullet."

Maxwell gave up arguing. He didn't know what to do as Drake became angrier.

"Better go give my congratulations." He grumbled while making his way across the room.

"We'll announce your engagement at the ball." Liam told the couple. He pressed a kiss to Olivia's cheek and shook Ethan's hand. "May you both find the same happiness I found with Riley."

"I need details!" Riley exclaimed "When and where did this happen? How did you propose?"

Olivia chuckled. "Ethan asked me at his father's home when we went to spend Christmas there."

"How sweet!" Hana exclaimed. "We can start planning your wedding while we are all together."

Olivia's friends began to talk over one another to give possible opinions of wedding venues and dates for the ceremony.

Only Ethan noticed the tension forming in Olivia's body. He soon saw the reason for it approaching.

"Congratulations." Drake said.

"Thank you." Ethan answered when Olivia instinctively stepped closer to his side. "I'm still surprised she said yes." He smiled down at her.

"You shouldn't be." Olivia told him.

"Liv's right, Ramsey. You shouldn't be surprised. Give yourself another day or two and you'll see why." Drake drawled. "The only thing nobles aspire to around here is marriage."

"Drake." Liam admonished.

"What? Isn't that all that was thumped into your heads as children? Even Hana admitted to being trained from a little girl on up on how to catch a husband." He continued.

Hana's cheeks burned as she averted her eyes from everyone.

"Of course, Olivia wasn't so fortunate when it came to knowing how to catch a husband, was she?" Drake smirked at her. "Her mother died before she could begin the training. Guess it was a good thing she went ahead and married you off to a terrorist, huh?"

"That's enough." Ethan warned. "You're intoxicated and should go to your room and sleep it off."

"Is that your medical opinion, Doc?" Drake narrowed his eyes at him. "Or is it you're worried I'll say something to embarrass you and your --"

"Excuse us." Olivia wrapped her fingers around Drake's arm, making sure to dig her nails into the tender flesh under his arm. "Walker and I need to clear something up."

She yanked him towards a door that led out into a small courtyard.

He wrenched his arm from her once they reached a nearby fountain.

"What in the hell was that?" She snapped.

"What?" He taunted when she merely glared at him. "Couldn't take the truth, Libby? Or are you worried that your doc can't?"

"In there," she hissed, "is the man who actually defended you to me after our last fight."

"Did he?" Drake folded his arms. "How endearing."

"Ethan is the man I want." She stated. "Whether you can accept that or not is your problem. It is not going to be mine!" Her narrowed eyes held his own. "I personally don't know if you and I can be friends after everything that has happened. I was going to try and at least be pleasant around you, but your little act in there has made it impossible."

"Who cares?" He muttered. "You didn't care about how I would feel after I ripped my heart out and laid it at your feet just so that you could waltz back home with your new love."

"You already knew my choice!" She shouted. "You saw how much he meant to me in Boston. I told you there was nothing between me and you and yet you stand here and show the world once again what a jackass you are." Her breathing was accelerated as she tried to calm down. "This is why you and I never had a chance. There's too much resentment from years of the two of us fighting."

"There wouldn't be if you had given me a chance." He told her. "Some time to try and be what you wanted. Instead you accept the first marriage proposal you ever got."

"I ACCEPTED BECAUSE I AM IN LOVE WITH ETHAN!" She raised a trembling hand to her head, completely frustrated with his refusal to give up. "He makes me feel a way I never thought possible."

"I don't want to hear about your sex life." Drake snapped.

"I'm not talking about that!" She shoved Drake away from her. "I'm talking about how he makes me feel as if I am the most important person in the world. He actually respects me. Cares about my opinions--"

"Clearly a glutton for punishment." Drake drily remarked.

Olivia gave up trying to explain. Using moves she hadn't had to in her months away, she swept Drake's legs out from under him, sending him tumbling backwards into the water fountain.

His head shot up, coughing and sputtering water out of his mouth and nose. "What the hell was that?!"

"That is the end of this discussion." She stated in a monotone voice. "I'm marrying Ethan. I'm going to have my own happily ever after. I expect you to keep your distance from now on. We might share the same group of friends, but you and I are nothing." Her green eyes flashed a warning. "We aren't friends, acquaintances, or even enemies." She stepped away from him. "Because I respect my enemies, but you, I can't even find the energy to be disgusted with you right now."

"Olivia, wait--" he tried to get out of the fountain and chase after her. "I--"

She walked back inside and quietly shut the door, as if he hadn't been speaking at all.

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

The next few months flew by. Hana and Rashad's wedding was deemed the perfect way to start a new year. Cordonia's research hospital had it's ribbon cutting ceremony a week later with both the press and nobles exclaiming over the state of the art facility. Under Naveen, Ethan, and Olivia's management, patients were being treated by some of the best physicians from around the world.

Word soon spread and numerous medical journals did pieces on the findings and styles of treatments given there. In every interview, Ethan gave Olivia the credit for everything that they were accomplishing, reminding the world that it had been her idea in the first place to create such a hospital.

She didn't think she could love him more than she already did until he did that, once more helping heal her Nevarkis reputation. It had been a long time since she had wished for a knight in shining armor to come along and fight for her, and here he was, fighting along the battlefields of the press that she had always felt at a loss over.

While Olivia balanced her duchess duties and those at the hospital, she planned her wedding. Ethan, no matter how exhausted he was, would stay up late giving his opinion on the party size and location. The two became even closer to one another as they discussed their life together, the possibility of children, and the roles they were playing in both the medical society and the nobility.

They decided on an intimate ceremony in one of Lythikos's oldest chapels. Liam was to conduct it, with Olivia requesting Amanda as her matron of honor and a very pregnant Riley and Hana as bridesmaids. The two mothers' to be cried together over the sweetness of it all from the moment they were asked until Ethan kissed his bride.

Ethan asked Naveen to be his best man and Thomas as a groomsman. He and the director had only grown closer in friendship as the ladies they were committed to spent so much time together. Thomas was helping him learn how to balance his future duties of Duke of Lythikos along with his chosen career. He reassured him that he could indeed have it all and be content.

Needing one more groomsman, Ethan left that choice to Olivia. Maxwell volunteered, to help take the pressure off of her, and was soon fitted for a new tux.

Drake never received an invitation.

He had tried to apologize. He even cornered her before she left the palace for Lythikos and managed to sound sincere, but it was no use. She was done with having him in her life. There was no anger. No sadness. Nothing. Just like she had told him.

He knew it was his own fault. All of it was. Somehow he had ruined what could have ended up being the best thing in his life. Seeing how Olivia was in love and knowing it could have been him on the receiving end, it hurt worse than any insult she could ever give.

He should be happy he wasn't invited to the ceremony. It was a mercy, whether she meant it as such or not. Seeing her dressed as a bride and saying her vows to another man would have been beyond his ability to calmly accept.

So he did what anyone would do the day of their love's wedding to another.

He left Cordonia for America.

Drake decided he would stay away for an indefinite period of time. Liam had Riley by his side so he wouldn't feel guilty over abandoning him. All of their friends were happily settled with their significant others. He was finally free to see what his life could be without nobles and putting Liam first.

A few years went by. During this time, babies were born. Drake had sent handmade rocking horses to Hana and Riley when he received the news of their sons' births. He next was picking wedding gifts for Maxwell and Nadia and then, to his great shock, one to Regina and Naveen. More babies were born, including word of Olivia and Ethan having a daughter.

That text from Maxwell had left him feeling a loss be hadn't thought of.

Drake decided to test the waters and start dating again. He thought this would be a chance to see what he really wanted from a potential spouse. Nothing too serious ever came from these attempts, but they did help slowly ease his heartache.

He would get the occasional visit from those he had left back in Cordonia. Phone calls and texts were a normal, everyday occurrence. Then one day, Savannah found out she was pregnant again and asked him to come for a nice long visit to Ramsford.

The moment he stepped off the plane and caught the hint of apple blossoms in the air, he knew this would always be home. He closed his eyes and simply let the feeling wash over him that this was where he was meant to be, where he was always meant to be.

He decided to stop and see Liam and Riley on his way to Ramsford. The couple were with their children at Valtoria along with some of their other friends.

Including Olivia and Ethan.

When Drake stepped out of the car, he could hear the laughter and squeals of young children playing out back. He went down a gravel path lined with lilies, only stopping at the sight before him.

Children, five years old and under, were chasing each other all over an area that would put most playgrounds to shame. Slides, climbing walls, bridges, jungle gyms, everything a child could want covered two acres of land.

He was able to identify most of the children without much thought. He had received tons of pictures through Christmas cards and texts, but he didn't need them to know who belonged to whom.

Liam's two sons with their golden hair shining in the sunlight were easily picked out. The little princes were soon joined by a boy that could only belong to Hana.

He then noticed two little girls that looked exactly like their mothers once had so many years ago. The dark haired one was clearly Thomas and Amanda's. And just like her mother had done at her age, the little girl was playing with another who had the richest set of red hair Drake had ever seen.

The three year old looked like she had been fashioned in Olivia's very image. Even her green eyes could narrow in an all too familiar irritation when the boys' rough housing got too close to where she was playing.

And just like her mother, her smile blossomed when she saw her father walking over.

Ethan leaned down to pick her up. His own smile was bright as he spoke to his daughter.

Whatever was said had the little girl eagerly nodding her agreement.

"Drake?"

He turned to see Olivia staring at him in surprise.

"Hey, Liv." He greeted.

"What are you doing here?"

"Savannah asked me to come for a visit." He explained.

"Ah." She placed her hand on her baby bump when another kick happened. "How have you been?"

"Good." He motioned toward her belly. "Boy or girl?"

"We don't know." She smiled down at her stomach. "Just like with Erin, Ethan and I decided we want to be surprised."

"Congratulations." He said sincerely. "I know you always wanted a family." He looked back toward where her little girl was. "Looks like you and Ethan know what you're doing."

"I think we do." She finally smiled at him.

"I'm happy for you." He managed to say and realized that it was true. If he couldn't be the one she ended up with, at least she had gotten what she wanted most out of life.

"Thank you." She stepped around him and continued toward the play area.

Ethan had been watching for her and began to make his way over to help her down the slope safely. She paused, knowing he would only worry if she tried to go down it on her own.

"Drake?"

"Yes, Olivia?"

"It's good to see you again." She smiled once more at him then went on and took her husband's arm.

Drake watched as Ethan tenderly brushed a kiss to her temple. The two laughed at their daughter having had enough of the boys' antics and chasing after them to give them a piece of of her mind.

As he stood there alone, he realized that though there was a faint echo of what could have been, he was finally able to watch them without it hurting.

[leahseclipse]

The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter One: Happy Death Anniversary, Detective.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions... (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Two years after the death of Sherlock, what could be next?

Word Count: 4.0K

A/N: Hey there! I've finally found the motivation to post my Sherlock fic here. If you prefer AO3, click here :)

++

Sherlock used to call at midnight, he never cared whether you were trying to sleep, or if you were actually sleeping- he’d just call.

Sometimes to complain that technology was futile given the multitude of defaults it contained (his phone, for example)- or to talk about an article in a newspaper, thinking we’d be interested in it.

It’s been two years since the last call. No one could bring themselves to delete his number since; and I understand the reason for it. We all had some hope inside us, it was small given all the time that went by, but it was there.

We all wondered if he wasn’t alive. Movies aren’t real, so the whole fake-death scenario couldn’t have been real but we all thought “why not?”, it could happen. That was over a year ago, but I still believed it, I wasn’t quite planning on giving up; and when my phone rang a bit after midnight, I still had a glimpse of hope, each time.

That glimpse was cut short when I read the caller ID. It was John. I did like him, he just wasn’t who I expected to see, but I picked up the phone, just to not be rude. Voicemail is awful. “John? What’s going on?”

"I...I don’t really know, actually. Guess I...needed to feel less alone. I don’t even know."

“Hold on.” I glanced at my bedside as I put the phone on speaker before sitting on the bed. "...so, you couldn’t sleep?"

"Yeah, I’ve been trying for an hour, certainly because of..." He stopped, hesitating with his words.

Who else other than Sherlock would it be, honestly. The man’s always been in our thoughts, and now that he’s gone, we have to be reminded that he’s stuck in our minds. The only way to hear him is through memories, and probably some of us are afraid to forget what he sounds like through time. He wasn’t the guy to make documentaries on him, film himself- hell, he rejected every interview he was offered. The only thing we have is pictures, which isn’t enough.

"It’s him, isn't it?" I presumed.

"Yeah, Sherlock." He confirmed. “It’s the anniversary of his death, in two weeks.”

See, that was the kind of thing I didn’t want to recall as it made me think of what I didn’t want to accept, but at the same time, if I stopped thinking about that, might as well forget Sherlock completely.

"It kept me awake too." I admitted.”I can’t believe it.”

No one really does, to be honest. We all wish that it could be fake, that’s what we would need, even if it’d hurt to see him while we mourned all this time.

"It still feels a bit weird without him, even after basically two years."

“It didn’t seem right without him, at first."

"It took us a bit to get used to it, and still...I think I didn’t get used to it fully to this day."

"Neither am I, John. I don't think I ever will. Time will make the pain less...painful, but it’ll never erase him, he'll be in our thoughts from the moment we wake up."

"I wish it was all a dream. I hate to wake up and not see him. He annoyed me sometimes but...he was my friend."

"He was annoying but a good friend, yeah.” I said, “It’s just...not right. Nothing is right. I feel like everything has gone cold. I swear that I haven't seen a single ray of sunshine."

"It's probably time fooling around, I don't know." He said.

"It could but, when he was there, there would be some sunny-ish days. I haven't seen one since. He left, and it's like he took the sun with him, John. The whole world is falling apart.”

"I felt that too, for a moment. But, I don't really trust whatever I think about these days. I don't pay much attention to whatever I do."

"You should be careful though, I don't need you to die because you didn't pay attention out there. And before you say anything, there's no joke in there. I mean it, Watson.”

"I wasn't going to say that, trust me."

"You better. I need you there."

"Same goes for me. You've been of great help since…"

"Yeah. Since." I paused. "It sucks."

"It does.” He agreed. “Well I...I’m gonna go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you all night.”

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry. It helped to talk. I could even stay a bit more, if you’re not planning on going back now.”

“Alright, then.”

++

It’s like the weather watched me plan the day, rain is on time. It couldn’t be more depressing on top of me dressed in black, but I just didn’t feel like coming in rainbow clothes would be appropriate, even if he wouldn’t care how I dressed anyway, even if he’s dead, yeah.

It feels weird to go, I always expected this was all a dream, or that it’d just...never happen. He’s the kind of person that outlives everyone, and Sherlock was this kind of person, he’s always been that person. He even used to say he’ll always be there, that he’d never leave, and now I guess we’ve both made mistakes, he’s not here anymore.

I never thought that would happen, I can’t tell how bad I prayed to whatever god to wake up, but that did nothing but make me a fool, nothing changed.

His apartment remained empty, as ours, he’d consider each house he could sleep at, his. I remember that he stayed at John’s for a week, before having to go back as John was “not entertaining” enough because he slept too much- As if we got to sleep all day.

He used to think everyone was like him, barely sleeping, barely tired, because I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity of seeing him elsewhere other than a room full of piles of papers.

He did sleep, but not at night, it was kind of like a cat, throughout the day, when possible. I always laughed about it along with John, and he never minded, he’d either pretend to not care, or join the conversation, and I already miss this kind of talks.

They’d either be incredibly short, or extremely long, you really had to clear your schedule for an hour or two when he’d talk. It’s not that it bothered me, it was more the others, those who didn’t know him. They’ve always found an amount of weirdness in him, which I had when I was like them, a stranger.

I never thought we’d get close, I didn’t even think anyone was close with him, he seemed quite the lonely guy, very private. Even after getting to know him, he remained quite private, as I thought, he wouldn’t share much, even with John and Mycroft; but, it didn’t matter that much, we still managed to have a great friendship, and I’ll always miss it.

Not any person will be like him, he was one of a kind. Not anyone could copy him without being seen as a fool. Sherlock Holmes was unique, he didn’t copy anyone to rise up, didn’t take anyone as a model, he did it all himself, he was a model himself.

He didn’t wish to be like anyone, it was the contrary, everyone wanted to be at his level, have the recognition he had, the fame, all the things that made him known, that made Sherlock be him. Even I won’t find a mentor like him, not any of them will be better, they’ll all seem ridiculous to me, even if they have more experience than him.

Nothing will be the same. This world won’t be the same without him being here, he’s gone now.

He took a big piece of whatever thing, when he left, and whatever thing he took was a big one, because it left us all empty. The kind of empty feeling that won’t quite go away, we’ve all been so used to having him around so much that it was a habit.

And now that he’s gone, nothing feels right, even living doesn’t feel right. It won’t ever feel right without him.

I almost feel guilty for being alive, I’m not as smart as him, I won’t contribute to anything. He was the smart one, we really lost an important person and I don’t think it wouldn’t have changed much if I had died instead, people would just be sad, I think.

It wouldn’t be that bad.

His death is bad to the point that the world he left behind can’t function as well as when he was alive. The whole puzzle is missing, hell, the whole world, if I go out of the metaphor.

...Sherlock would have been the corners of it, the foundations of it, what made it whole, what gave a start to get the rest of the puzzle.

He would have corrected me with hundreds of better metaphors if he could hear me, I really suck at this. He never did, though.

In fact, most of his talking contained metaphors, it was his signature, his day couldn’t feel right if he wouldn’t tell at least one.Now the whole ‘no day without a metaphor is a bad day’ is falling on us, and nothing or no one will make that feeling go away.

It’s strange, and funny that he managed to create all of those special feelings, memories, that we only felt with him. Sherlock’s had quite the special part in our lives. He changed our lives in such a spectacular way, and to be honest, life felt less depressing, even if our job is full of dead people and mysteries that make our sleep schedule non-existent, quite rare.

He made us forget all of that shit, whenever he could. That’s why I looked up to him, and thought about him so much. Whenever I had a problem, I’d call him first. Of course, I did call John, and Mycroft, but Sherlock was like my emergency contact, he’d always pick up, if possible.

Somehow, he always knew the answers to everything, and when he was clueless (which only happened twice, in five years)- he'd attempt to find something close to it, and even if his explanations didn’t solve anything, I didn’t care.

It probably made him sort of happy to explain it, share his big knowledge, so as long as he enjoyed himself, that was enough. I did hope he did enjoy himself, I never thought about asking and now that I think about it, I probably should have, it’s too late now.

If he can hear me, a sign would be great, probably. A good thing if he enjoyed talking, and a bad one if I annoyed him? It’d be nice to know even if he probably won’t answer, he must still be working; I know it.

He would be bored if he didn’t have his face in newspapers and whatever case. I always said Sherlock not to overwork, but he never listened. I hope he’s not doing it right now, that man was a total workaholic, right to his last breath, he never stopped.

I just hope he’s okay, wherever he is.

He deserves peace, enough things happened to him, he almost died a couple times, almost lost us if we hadn’t survived all of the wounds and things that happened, almost lost himself because of depression- all of these could have killed him.

He would have stayed alive, but he would have died inside, I just know it even if he didn’t show it much. But he did feel, he did have feelings.

I know he liked us a lot, even though he didn’t show it much; he did enjoy living even with all of the problems he had so, let’s hope he’s not in pain, stressing, suffering, whatever feeling that makes him feel bad.

You can take it easy now, we’re taking care of what you couldn’t finish for you, we’re taking care of the legacy you couldn’t pursue for you, we’ve got your back, Holmes. John, Mycroft, myself, and whatever person you know will tell you everything that happens so you don’t miss anything. You’ll be able to debate about the events, you won’t miss a single thing of what’s happening.

Even if I have my pride, and don’t want to admit I’m depressed about you being dead, I’ll tell you everything, I know you’d be here to tell me how to deal with the death of a person, the whole five stages of grief. You said them to me so much that I always have them in my head.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

I’d say that I’m at the last phase, but a lot of anger comes in it. I still wish it had been me, sometimes. It’s not fair it happened to Sherlock. I just hope he’s not too mad. If it had been someone else, he’d probably try to talk some sense into me, get me to tell more logical things.

If ghosts were real, I know he’d tell me to stop putting the blame on myself, even if I don’t even know why I blame myself, we don’t even know what caused him to jump from a damn building. And even if someone explains it, we won’t know if it’s real no matter how much they’ll prove it’s the truth.

The only person that can tell us that is gone.

So, unless we don’t find...a diary, or a note, proving it all, we won’t know.

The last thing we’ve heard from him was an apology, the ‘note’ he left behind was the call John received, which means the presumed note I mentioned doesn’t exist, only the call does.

After leaving his note, he fell from the roof and he died on impact, his pulse was long gone when he reached the floor, and it didn’t come back. I didn’t believe all of it happened, even when I heard John telling it, none of it seemed true...until I saw the death certificate.

The whole world stopped, and it still is frozen now. I wish the grave I’m standing in front of wasn’t real, I wish that my eyes were betraying me.

If only.

“Turns out you lied, Sherlock. You left.”

I hate you for what you did.

“You could have explained all of this a bit more. Even if I would have preferred not to, I would have prevented you from dying if you gave me a note...before.”

I wish I had known, I should have known. He didn’t have to die, he wasn’t supposed to die, certainly not like that.

Not now, that wasn’t his time. He was supposed to die of old age because of natural reasons, after all of us. Outlive us all.

Damn Sherlock Holmes wasn’t supposed to die at 35 years old. It's too young, too soon, Too much to bear.

“What am I supposed to do now, I mean- what are we all supposed to do? None of us can replace you, we’ll take twice the amount of time you barely took to resolve cases on our own, you left us in a really bad situation, you know that? It’s not going to be the same if you’re not here with us.”

And I miss you like a little kid.

“You could have made us take classes to become a close version of you, at least. I’m saying ‘close’ because no one will ever be like you. Not even that detective that had 30 years of experience, he wasn’t even close, really. I’d say he looked like a newbie, next to you.”

I even started to lose the habit of calling him when he’s not directly on the field and I hate this. I’ve only known him for a couple of years, and yet, he’s going to be ironed in my mind for a lifetime.

That man, I swear.

He didn’t think that sticking so close to us, getting to know us, sharing things about him would affect us so badly now that he’s gone. Real gone.

It hurts to say that, I wish I could just pretend he wasn’t gone, but that’s not really...healthy? It’s not really healthy in the way that if I pretend he’s still there- while he’s six feet under ground would drive me crazy, it’d completely destroy the whole ‘acceptance phase’ I’ve been working on. He’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do to bring him back.

That’s what my brain has to acknowledge, pretending he’s alive wouldn’t do any good.

Sometimes life gets to an end, and we have to accept that. I know that Sherlock, his brother and even John wouldn’t want to see me like this- ignoring reality, building a fake world to protect me from the real one.

Hurting sucks. Getting reminded that I won’t be seeing him anymore sucks, but everything sucks in life, and that’s what happens when you live. You can’t have a perfect happy life with all the shitty problems, that doesn’t exist.

But even if this sucks, I also get to remember all of the great things Sherlock has accomplished, the hundreds of memories we’ve made all together, whatever makes me happy- but there’s still a lot of hurt to go through before being able to think about them without crying because I miss them.

I wish that could be happening right now, I must have filled an entire bottle of water with all my tears. It’s even worse when that happens at 2am after you wake up from a dream about them.

Speaking of dreams, I don’t think I’ve ever had so many dreams with him compared to when he was alive. It’s as if he's haunting me, and even if I like him, I’d wish he wouldn’t do that so often, a little peace and quiet would be nice, even if I don’t want that to stop.

I’m afraid I’ll forget Sherlock if I stop thinking about him, block the memories to prevent me from the hurt that comes with it. I don’t want that to happen, he doesn’t deserve to have his legacy ignored because of my stupid feelings that hurt, he deserves to have his legacy remembered, discussed about, shared, not to have it trapped in newspapers, or in a corner of my head.

I like to imagine him being proud when I do that, even if I wouldn’t have known he was. He wasn’t the expressive kind, but he liked to show he was proud of you through a facial expression, a word, whatever could be ‘decrypted’. He wasn’t as cold as people saw him, he was extremely kind, even if he was broken in millions of pieces inside.

But yet, he overcame everything and came back even stronger. Every single time. He was amazing in so many ways, and that’s why I wish I could be like him.

So much.

I sighed, adjusting the grip I had on my umbrella, as I squatted down in front of his grave. “Did you know we went through your closet yesterday? There’s really not a lot, your clothes are so...similar. We can easily buy the same to be ‘like you’. But I don’t want to touch them, they’re kind of like precious pieces you can find in a museum.”

I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy because of that.

“And...yeah, we went through your place because we can’t bring ourselves to sell it, I don’t want someone else to live in there and ruin it with their own belongings. But at the same time, living in it would be weird, I don’t know. I can’t find an explanation, just that it’s weird, living in the apartment of a dead person. Kinda creepy.” I explained, looking up from my umbrella as I realized the rain had gone down, letting a few rays of a ‘somehow’ sun. “Look, the sun listened to me. It’s coming up so I can give my emotional speech full of hope.” I sighed. “I don’t...I don’t even know what to say anymore. Kind of ironic as I always have something to say.”

I actually kind of know, but I don’t want to say it.

He’s gone. No miracle will bring him back, but I’ve kept hearing John saying it, I heard him last time we came; and even though I can’t bring myself to say that, I want to so badly. That’s all I’ve been wanting to happen since you died, I don’t want anything else and I don’t care about love anymore even if you always wanted me to be happy.

You’re what made me happy, you were the definition of love. Maybe what I’ve been feeling was that but I never brought myself to admit it.

I have loved you since the first day, but you always said that whoever fell in love with you should find better as you considered yourself a forever loner, unable to feel and give love, but I know you were capable of it, if you had tried, I believed you could have done it.

“Look at me, in front of your grave, exposing the feelings I’ll never have the answer to, I don’t even know if you liked me back. You really took all your secrets to your grave, huh? What a selfish prick, you could’ve shared that, at least.” I complained.

I don’t think I’ve ever known someone that hid so much stuff, he really was a whole mystery to himself, that man.

We can’t even solve what caused you to commit suicide, we’ll probably never solve it. You were the only one that knew why, and yet he can’t just pull a miracle and live again for a few minutes as a zombie to explain. That would be of great help, even if I’d prefer he’d live again.

That’d be an awesome miracle, even better than what happens at Christmas.

“Can you do that for me, though?”

Just that, I won’t ask for anything else.

“Just one more miracle, Sherlock, for us.” I said, putting my hand on the polished surface. “...don't be dead.”

It’s too easy, you can’t be dead, Nothing can kill you. I know John, and a shit ton of people saw you fall, but...let me believe all of that isn’t true.

Just a fake accident, Do that for us. Please. We need you more than you can ever imagine, you were so important to us, you were family.

A reason to fight for, to live for.

“Don’t be, please.” I pleaded, as I got up from the ground. “I uh...I’ll be back whenever I can, okay? Work’s been crazy since you’re gone, it’s incredible. I don’t know if it’s because we don’t have your help, or because it’s always been like that.”

Probably a mix of the two, I don’t really know, it’s been complicated to think properly these days. Sherlock would be the one to help with that, usually.

“I’ll have to ask someone else, I guess.”

I still haven’t found this ‘someone else’, by the way, It’s been two years, I know. But I still haven’t found someone that can help me the way he used to.

He still remains unique after all this time.

“I’ll be on my way, then. You’re awfully quiet today, guess you’re not in the mood, so I’ll go.”

I wish I still didn’t have to say goodbye, but this is the only thing I can say when I leave.

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

++

|Chapter Two|

[beblade-a]

@livingprophecy​​    /   mal’s letters aka zee choose death 🥰

i'm sure by now you know that i was reassigned to a new unit. i would have told you myself that i was leaving, but you didn't look like you wanted to see me. i couldn't blame you. part of me thought i'd be back soon enough, and maybe by then you'd stop looking away when we were in the same room. that's looking less and less likely by the hour. they say this new position might be more permanent than anyone expected. you know how these leader types are, they can never make up their mind about anything. i probably shouldn't tell you that, though. the last thing i need is you reprimanding me in writing.

shit, sorry. getting off topic. the point of this is, i don't know when i'll see you again. maybe i should have talked to you before i left. said something. i know you wouldn't have listened, but it would have been better to get it off my chest then. except you're too stubborn for your own good, and i didn't want you to hate me for pushing you more than i did that night. i couldn't help you the way you wanted me to, and maybe that's on me for being too willing to see what you didn't want anyone else to. i'm never going to regret the choice i made then, you needed someone to tell you to stop. you deserved to be able to grieve. you still do. i'm just sorry it pulled us apart.

there's a lot i didn't say then that i guess i should say now, but the trip was long, and daylight is ending soon. i'll write again. you haven't gotten rid of me yet, nik. looking forward to hearing from you too, if you can find time in your busy schedule to pick up a pen for me. but i'll understand if the masses keep pulling you down with a hundred more complaints about needing softer blankets and more salt for their slop.

best regards, mal.

p.s. sorry, that last part was a joke. i think i'm getting worse at them.

/

it's safe to say most of us underestimated just how long we'd really be here. the most "permanent" has ever meant is a few weeks, at most. just enough time to prove we've got numbers on our side, just enough to spill a little blood on both sides.

that was grim, sorry. i don't want this letter to be about that. here i was, ready to talk about the beauty of the mountains and how the air tastes different here than it did there. sometimes i forget this all leads back to war anyways, but it's easier to let yourself get distracted by the small pleasures in like. the first rays of sunlight and how they cast shadows over giants, the way plants bloom here that are strangers to what other forests have held. i wonder if you'd let yourself see this place the way that i do, if you'd love to lose yourself in it the same way. i remember you once said you wanted to see the ocean, and how your eyes lit up when you described it. i hope it makes you feel the way being on mountain tops has made me feel: at peace and just a little more alive. i think you deserve that, after everything. i know you do.

maybe we can see it together sometime, if that's not asking for too much.

speak to you soon, mal.

/

a few weeks passed since i last wrote. sorry, i guess i got caught up in everything. you know how it is, the work of a tracker is never done, etc. etc. not that i mind the work, of course. i'll take the fresh air and clear skies over being stuck in a stuffy tent with a bunch of soldiers any day. i still don't envy your meetings and boring talks of treaties that never go anywhere, or the way they always seemed to cut our mornings short at the worst possible moments. it's a miracle dominik didn't resort to anything worse than glaring at me for making you late, i always thought he'd get me thrown into the brig just for being annoying in his presence.

i still think about him sometimes. more than sometimes. i heard he had family close to the capital? you'd know more about that, i suppose. it feels stupid, but i feel guilty that i didn't know him better. did he laugh at stupid jokes, did he turn his head up towards the sky when it rained, did he see an end to this war? it doesn't seem fair that you're the one who has to carry him. someone else should remember him. i pray you learn you don't have to shoulder this burden alone.

but that's not what i was writing to you about. or, rather, wanted to write to you about. are you even getting these? i hope you are, but i know how tricky sending mail is. it once took five months for one of alina's letters to get to me, you know, so it wouldn't surprise me if you never saw these.

i met some people. well, if you could even call them people. they're idiots, really, the both of them. added onto my unit just last week, though i don't think they know a thing about tracking. that's fine, though, they're good guys and it's easier not to fall into thought with their incessant babbling going on in the background. it's hard to get close to people in times like these, but they seem too harmless to keep away. hopefully they get to stick around for a while, but we can't be sure of anything, can we?

that's all i had to say, i suppose. i'll end it here before this gets any longer.

take care, mal.

/

i think about how we left things. should i have pushed more, come to see you when i knew time was running out for us? it didn't seem to be within my right. we always knew this would end somewhere, just ships that pass in the night, but the tide seemed to carry us further away than i’d anticipated. it’s hard to wrap my head around how awful it felt when they gave out my orders, the way it seemed time was hacking me to pieces when all i wanted desperately was to help you keep yourself together. but you wouldn’t even look at me in the days that led to that moment. it was like i stopped existing for you, and you couldn’t see me as i floated away.

this isn’t to say i blame you. i don’t. saints, i don’t think i could ever place the blame on you for anything. but we were friends, right? if nothing else, we were friends, and now it feels like we’re nothing. the memory of your hands on me is a ghost that lingers, the proof that it wasn’t all just a dream. it’d be easier if it was. then i wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering if you’re reading these. if you are, i’m sorry. i don’t blame you, i swear i don’t. grief is a monster that claws through all of us, and you lost the most important person that you had. if one day i got word that alina was gone from this world, i would destroy myself in that pain. but you had to watch him go, you have the memory of that now.

i’m sorry. if you get nothing else from this letter, just know that i’m sorry and i’m still here. if you need me, i’m still here, nik. i know it isn’t much, but it’s all i have to offer.

your friend, mal.

/

all of my writing seems to be reserved for you and alina. i don’t have anyone else, i guess, but that’s okay. they sent me out again, caryeva this time.  it’s only for a few weeks, but i don’t mind traveling to this one. alina’s here, said something about the cartographers trying to make sense of the caves. i don’t know how much sense they expect to make of her drawings, but, hey, she’s here. so that means that all of my writing is reserved for you, at least until i have to leave again.

i'm sorry about the last letter. i shouldn't have sent it. that's one i really hope you didn't get, but i guess you wouldn't know that if you aren't getting any of them. there's only so much i can keep bottled up, though, and it's not like i can tell anyone else about you. i've thought about telling alina, a few times, but then i look over at her and forget how to breathe and thinking about you gets a little harder to do. it's always been like that with her, though, but i can't put words to the feeling when she's the one i'm talking to. she's familiar, like you were for those few months. like you'd still be if one day we met back in the middle of this war.

princes go on to do princely things, and our story probably ended already, but i'm just unlucky enough to be stupidly optimistic. i see an end to this war, and i see you becoming a great leader,  and i see it all unfolding in front of my eyes. see? stupidly optimistic. it's alright, though. someone somewhere has to have hope. why not let it be me?

your stupid optimist, mal.

/

we left caryeva this morning. just me and the poor idiots who came here on their way to make the journey back to sikursk. i hugged alina so tight i think i would have broken bones if we'd held on any longer, but she didn't complain. just wiped the tears away and called me stupid, in that same tone she uses when she's not trying to make things sadder than they are. i missed her the moment my back was to her, my feet carrying me hundreds of miles away from her again. the ache never left me when i was with her, but she makes everything easier. now she's gone again, and i can't help but let the loneliness creep back in.

i'm an orphan, did i ever tell you that? it's hard to say, never comes out quite right. like saying "i have nobody who cares about me" or "everyone who should have loved me is dead." that's what people look at me like, at least. pity and sadness and the way the war keeps taking and will keep taking more. but that's not true. i have someone. her. we've always had each other.

i have alina, and i still feel alone.

you haven't responded, or you never got these letters, or you did and haven't even read them. i don't know which one makes this more painful. doubt muddies everything and the lack of answers rips away any security i had in what we had. but what did we have? a few nights of stupid choices, where i could have drowned my troubles away in anything but you chose me and that felt good enough to mean something? i said i wouldn't blame you and that's still true, i can't put this on your shoulders on top of everything else. mostly, i blame this war.

i've thought about not writing these anymore. they don't make me feel closer to you. they just make the distance seem longer. but i don't want to leave you alone. i'm sorry, i don't know what else to do.

i suppose i'll keep on holding hope for a little longer.

running out of things to put here, mal.

/

it's late, and the stars are shining high above, and i can't sleep. dubrov's snores could shake the mountains, but that's not why i'm awake. i stopped believing you're getting these, so i guess it doesn't matter if i say it now. i miss you. being with you was easy, which is why i know it was never real. what we had only ever existed in my head, and you forgot about me the moment i wasn't around anymore.

were we friends, nik? were we at least that?

i have to believe we were. because if we weren't, what does that leave me with?

i never thought i'd get to keep you but a part of me was looking for a happier ending, a more satisfying conclusion. you were the first thing i didn't want to run from, that i didn't even realize you were never there with me to begin with.

all i’ve said in these letters is sorry, but i can't apologize for this one.

mal.

/

it'll be a year tomorrow.

by the time you get this, if you get this, it'll be longer than that.

i can't help but think about you sitting in your tent, alone, shoving that grief down as the time ticks by. or do you drown your sorrows in someone else, the next petty face that catches your eye? is it wrong to say that? i don't know. and you're not reading these anyways.

that's not fair to you. i told myself i wasn't going to be angry writing this one, and saints know i still ache to think about you feeling any of that grief alone. but it's been a year, and it could be two years, and i know that this is it. you're never going to write back, and i suppose that's on me for expecting you to.

i'm sorry. i'm sorry that i'm mad and i'm sorry about dominik and i'm sorry i let you push me away when all i wanted was to be there. i can't go back and change that, i don't even know if i would want to. were you always so stubborn, or is that what you told yourself you had to be?

please let someone in, nik. even if it's not me.

mal.

/

i should stop writing these, but you know how it goes. one more letter turns into two, two turns into a chest full of them. there’s no telling if i'm sending these to the right place anymore, if you've moved on. they said they'd find their way to you anyways, but that's hard to put any amount of faith on. there's too many unanswered letters for me to make up my mind on what's happening to them.

i keep thinking that you might have found someone else and can't help being jealous despite knowing it's probably for the best. maybe we can both find something to keep us feeling a little more human, a little more whole.

if i kiss someone and all it does is remind me of you, does that still count as trying to forget you?

swallowing the idea that one day you might disappear from my memory is hard, though i shudder to think of the alternative. nobody tastes like you. the only person who's ever made me laugh like you did is alina, and even my love for her is different. it doesn’t burn like yours did. like it still does.

what i'm trying to say is: i don't think i can forget you if i tried, but saints i wish i could. and i hope it’s harder for you to forget about me than it is to ignore these letters.

everything i have left, mal.

/

this was supposed to be an apology for something, but the words won’t come out right. here it is, nik. by this point, i’ve spent more time being ignored by you then i ever got to have you. if you never get these letters, i hope you spend the rest of your days thinking i forgot about you. if you did, i hope you never read this one.

you said i could keep you as long as i wanted, and i wanted to believe that was true. so much that i put my heart in your hands. even though we never called it love. there was always a part of me that knew it was a mistake. i understood then that it was a lie, just like i know now that you're never going to write back. i gave you my heart. i gave you everything. i should have asked for it back when i tucked my things away that final night.

i said i wasn’t going to blame you, but then that just means we’re both liars.

you should have looked away that day our eyes first met. you should have told me to leave when all i wanted was to spend every waking moment right next to you. if you knew we didn’t even get a chance, that you were never going to keep me, you should have pushed me away before i felt your teeth sinking into my heart.

maybe we were both naive and stupid, but you always knew, didn’t you? i did too, but you can’t tell a lovestruck boy what he can and can’t do with his feelings. that’s what it is, isn’t it? i cared too much and you cared too little, or you just didn’t care about me more than you cared about letting me go.

war has never been kind but it feels less cruel than what you’ve done to me, and if i were to die tomorrow at least i wouldn’t have to think about you anymore.

saints, let your memory be purged from my body.

/

this isn't a letter. this is a eulogy. and an apology.

i don’t want to hate you, but hate pours out when i write these. there’s nothing healing about wanting to say my piece to you, and getting nothing back. like arguing with a wall. at least i’d know if a wall was there. so, this is the last one, nikolai. there’s nowhere else for me to put my feelings down for you, so i’ll bury them in this ink and move on.

if i loved you once, i can no longer separate that love from the pain your absence has caused. there is nothing more empty than being faced with your silence, no greater frustration than knowing you’re out there somewhere and we walk the same earth on startlingly different roads. you were never mine, and i was always yours. but you didn’t ask for my love, and i’m sorry i gave it so easily. a lesson for next time.

i hope you get to see the ocean, nik. i hope whatever doubt that lives in your heart can be replaced by something or someone else. if one day i hear that you’ve done great things with your life, i want to hear your name from the mouth of a stranger and think only fondly of our times together. you deserve all of the love a country can give for a great prince, and an even greater man. but more than that, you deserve to be happy.

maybe someday, when we’ve both found a place to put our love, we can meet again. maybe by then we’ll be ready to call each other friend.

i won’t hold my breath, but i choose to believe there’s a silver lining here somewhere.

goodbye, mal.