#it's full of people who all left to study somewhere else and opportunities i missed and a person i no longer am and i just

[leaving-fragments]

feeling a bit strange abt the fact i went to a market in my hometown on the weekend and afterwards saw an old schoolmate i once had a crush on posted an insta story from a spot i was standing at for a while on the same evening... the oddness of knowing we might've passed them and not noticed

[oh-katsuki]

Speechless (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader , Izuku x Reader

Content: Angst, pining, friend to lovers

Summary: Bakugou isn’t very good with words.

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: Sorry in advance for this… 

His words always failed him. Whenever the moment came, Bakugou could never seem to get past that choke in his throat.

There he’d be, looking at you at the desk beside him. He remembers you looking so pretty with your hair in those pigtails. Bakugou wanted to talk to you, to ask you where you’re from or for your name, but when you turn to him and utter that gentle hello in your smooth voice, his own falters. Bakugou’s at a loss for words and for the first time in his life, he wishes that he could swallow the pride that has been pushing him forward at such a steady pace to stop to meet your own.

Suddenly, his strides feel too wide on the play yard as you struggle to keep up and his voice feels too loud as you flinch slightly at each shout. It’s been like this forever, since he could remember. Bakugou’s always loved you, but that booming voice that he carries so proudly never seemed to let him say the words.

He’d never been able to tell you, not when you sat in front of him at your 5th grade graduation, your hands folded neatly in your lap, not at your first middle school dance and you asked him to slow dance with you. He took you to the dance floor with awkward hands, wide and calloused palms placed awkwardly over your figure, cheeks red with a blush so violent he can’t even remember what you looked like through it. Still, Bakugou just couldn’t say it.

It was around this time you’d met Midoriya. You were the only person who could stand up for him against Bakugou, who could pick him up from the floor in the presence of the angry blond. Bakugou remembers the first time he saw you take Midoriya’s hand in your own, guiding him up from the wooden floor, one hand in his and the other on his back. You’d said something about it not being funny anymore, about not picking on Deku so much. He’d have listened to what you said if it weren’t for the turning in his stomach, the unpleasant drop and twist of his gut at this newfound contact.

Even when you’d both gotten into UA, passing the entrance exam with flying colors, clinging to each other in a tight embrace, he hadn’t said it. He’d felt it then, the way your breath hitched when his hand travelled up the small of your back. You pulled away from him so slowly that day, like you’d been expecting him to say something.

And you had. You thought he’d finally confess, that maybe the abrasive boy you’d become best friends with would tell you that he loved you. You didn’t have to worry about going to different high schools or being separated by being in different hero courses, you could be together like you always have been. But Bakugou didn’t say anything. His lips stayed pressed in a tight line as you pulled back to face him, eyes searching yours and brows furrowed.

Bakugou’ll never forget the light gloss that covered your lips or the way your wide eyes looked up at him, so full of expectation. All he could manage was a click of his tongue, the rest of his statement; about you, about how much he loved you, got lost somewhere along the way.

In high school, Bakugou watched crushes come and go, watched as you dated and broke up and fell in love with people who weren’t him. It kills him. It hurts him every single time you come back from a date giddy and every single time you cry on his lap about the latest person to break your heart.

So he buries himself in his studies, focuses all of his energy on building himself up. Bakugou has a future to focus on, a career to worry about. After all, he’d be the number one hero someday, how could he not be with a quirk like that.

He skips out on your after school traditions, stops coming by on the weekends, becomes so absorbed in his goal that he doesn’t notice the way Izuku takes his place on your walks home. He doesn’t notice the glances you’d steal, or the doubt that seeded through your eyes each time he skipped out on another activity.

Until one day he did, finally deciding that he missed you, wanted to take the long way back with you. That’s when he realized just how far he’d let himself drift from you. You walked home with Izuku and he trailed behind, watching the way your hands grazed each other’s and the blush that crept up the back of Izuku’s neck.

So then Bakugou tried. He tried to get the words out in front of your house, long after Deku had left for his own. He wanted to force the words to fall through his lips, ignore the block he could feel building in his throat with each syllable he spoke. Fuck, he could feel the way you were slipping through his fingers like sand. He felt like he was scrambling, the words in his minding becoming mixed up and jumbled. Heat rose to his face and his blood roared in his ears, and finally he managed to choke out the words.

“You should focus more on training.” They were harsh and angry and as soon as he spat them out he knew he’d made a mistake.

It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but it’s what came out. How could he not answer you when you asked him what made him say that?

“Shitty Deku’s distracting you.” Bakugou muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

He’d probably remember the words you spoke back to him that day for the rest of his life. Bakugou’s sure that this is where he went wrong, where the tables turned away from him permanently.

“Izuku’s a nice guy, Katsu. Nicer than you.” You’d spoken, plainly and flat faced, heat rising to your cheeks at your admittance. Bakugou hadn’t missed your usage of Deku’s first name.

Bakugou scrambled for you after that. He felt like he was facing a mountain, climbing, bare hands struggling to get a grip on the rocks that crumbled out from under him. He had to watch as you moved further and further away from him, watch as you fell in love with someone else.

Bakugou’d never been on the outside with you, but this was different and you both knew it. You hadn’t told him about your crush on Izuku, hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort until you were at his house one day, slipping your shoes back on to head home.

“Hey, so… “ You trailed off, lifting your bag further onto your shoulder. “Izuku asked me out.”

Bakugou could feel the way his entire heart seized up, surroundings growing hazy around him. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything like it since. That drop into his stomach, bile rising up his throat as you peered at him.

“He did?” Was all he’d manage to say.

“Yeah,,,” You trailed off before looking up at him one more time. “What do you think I should do?”

You were asking him something, practically begging him to tell you to say no. If he said no you’d listen, you’d go to Katsuki without a second glance because the entire time he was loving you, you were loving him.

This was his chance, his opportunity to object, to finally confess. He’d been scrambling on those rocks for months now and you finally bumped him up to the top of the mountain with you in a heartbeat. You’re handing him it on a silver platter. Bakugou could breathe now, the playing field was even and all he had to do now was say it. Tell you just how deeply he’s loved you, how he loves the way you laugh, the way you get competitive for no reason, the way you talk in your sleep about whatever you’d eaten for lunch that day. Bakugou loved it all so irrevocably that it made him dizzy.

He’s at the finish line, but all he can feel is the grip in his throat, his pride closing off his airway and making his head swell. Bakugou wants to claw at his neck, he can’t let this happen again, not when he’s so close to finally getting it out. He’s screaming at himself but it feels like someone’s got a grip on his heart. It’s beating frantically and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s about to make you the first person he’s laid his soul bare to or if it’s because his pride is still trying to hold onto whatever dignity he has left. It’s years later and he still can’t manage to push past it. Years since he met you and he’s still fighting this same battle.

And finally, he chokes out a sentence. It’s garbled and angry and disgruntled, not at all how he wanted to tell you. Bakugou wanted to take your hands in his and confess, voice soft and hands gentle, but it came out strangled.

“Tch. Do whatever you want.”

It took Bakugou a moment to register what he’d said as he looked down at you, your fingers fiddling in front of you. He watched the heat rise to your face as you lifted your eyes up to look at him, brimmed with tears. Why did you look so hurt, wasn’t that the answer you wanted? The expression on your face struck him so deeply and as if it were some divine twist of fate, it was his reaction to this that had him certain that he’d never love another person the way he loved you.

You started dating Izuku two days later. Bakugou watched the two of you eat lunch together, watched you both walk through the hallways and home together. Suddenly, it wasn’t just you and him anymore. He was an odd man out and instead of fighting, Bakugou Katsuki let go in the only way he knew how. He buried himself back in his work, trained day and night and through the lunch periods so he wouldn’t have to see you with him. Most importantly though, he kept quiet.

Graduation rolled around and finally you’d all begun your lives as pro heroes. Bakugou didn’t have a chance to fight for you anymore. He’d hear about you in the news, text you, occasionally come over to have dinner until one day he was at yours a little later than usual and Izuku walked in. He doesn’t know why it didn’t hit him till then, when he watched you bow your head in shame at not having told him that you and Izuku had moved in together.

Bakugou held his tongue then too. He held it when the two of you adopted a fish, and then a dog, until eventually he was getting a pretty little envelope in the mail decorated with both of your names.

That’s how he supposes he ended up here, in front of a microphone on a stage with all of your friends and family watching. There you were in the front row, so beautiful in your white dress. Your eyes were so wide with excitement and Bakugou could see the way you squeezed Izuku’s hand where he held you. What did you expect him to say?

Yes, words always failed Bakugou. The microphone echoed painfully as he cleared his throat, the title of “Best Man” hovering so heavy over his head. There’s so much he wants to say but he’s standing there and he’s looking at you and he realizes that his last chance was a long time ago. He can’t tell you how much he loves you. He can’t tell you that the first thing he thinks about in the morning is the way you look when you smile. He can’t tell you that he wishes it was him next to you instead of the better man who came along.

So he tells you that you look beautiful in your dress. He tells you that Izuku is a lucky man. And finally, he wishes you and Izuku a long and happy marriage.

Bakugou’s shoes click on the floor as he leaves the stage and he takes a seat behind the bride. You kiss him on the cheek and for the first time in a very long time, Bakugou wants to cry.

[softrenjunnie]

the battle of hogwarts l pj

pairing: reader x jay

characters: boyfriend!jay, friend!jake, brother!sunghoon, chosen one!heeseung, death eaters, voldemort, other small characters

genre: hogwarts!au, angsty angst (maybe a little speck of fluff somewhere? but i wouldn’t bet on it)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, pain, death, torture and broken bones; swear words; character death.

note: spoilers !!!! i reference/talk about a lot of the stuff that happens in the battle of hogwarts, aka spoilers from the “harry potter and the deathly hallows” book (and movies), but i mean it’s a different story so it’s not super spoilery? note that heeseung plays the part of harry potter here !!!! also, the ending is rlly bad and weird (just like many parts of this oop-) but also pretty open so i guess there could be a pt 2? if i ever get the inspiration to write it heh

“stupefy!”

you heard the voice from behind you and managed to leap to your side to avoid the spell just in time, letting the red light instead hit the wall in front of you. you turned around, and instantly noticed the death eater who was standing many meters away, his wand by his head and ready to strike. “petrificus totalus!”

“protego!”

the beams shooting from his wand met the shield yours had produced, blocking it and letting its light die out. closing the distance between you, he lunged forwards and kept casting a variety of spells, which you, with great difficulty, blocked. you couldn’t hold your protection much longer, it was getting too tough - so instead, you turned around and made a run for it. a green beam of light missed your head by only a few centimeters, as you turned around a corner and kept running. you knew he was following you, and you knew you couldn’t keep this up; just as he rounded the corner, you pointed your wand to the roof above of him. “bombarda maxima!” you tried your best to keep your voice as steady and strong as possible, despite your wild nerves. the spell worked; soon, the death eater lay buried underneath the heavy stones that had just fallen.

you let out a sigh as you determined that he wasn’t going to rise, but you remembered to not let down your guard. there were perhaps hundreds of others inside and around the castle, and you knew from this little incident that they weren’t afraid to attack. so as you ran ahead, on towards the great hall where you hoped to find the people you were looking for, it was with your wand raised high and your eyes listening for every small sound in your vicinity.

you had been taken aback at first when that death eater had arrived; you hadn’t expected to meet anyone the moment you stepped out of the room of requirement. you thought everyone ought to be in the great hall, or perhaps outside of the castle - not lurking around on the top floors of the building. but none of that was what was going through your mind at the moment. you were focused on finding-

“jake, watch out!” you could recognize his voice from miles away, and especially when he was calling out for his best friend, but you don’t think you’ve ever heard such desperation in his voice ever before. at the end of the hallway, you spotted him - jay’s wand was shooting rays of all colors as he leaped forward, shooting down the woman in black, long robes who had just a second ago had a good grip around jake’s neck. she lay still on the floor, and for a few moments the boys stand as if frozen, until jake crouches down next to her and declares that she’s still alive, just fainted, to which both boys seem to calm down for a second. that is, until a scream is heard from a bit away, and the both of them run to where it came from, out of sight from you.

you were surprised that you had stopped in your tracks to watch the scene ahead of you, and you shake yourself before starting to run forwards again. reaching the end of the hallway, you turn to the way jay and jake had just gone. through the big entrance to the great hall, your eyes scanned over your two friends who were helping a ravenclaw girl, who you recognized to have been in your charms last year, fight off two death eaters. sprinting towards them, you watched as the girl, who you now remembered is called yewon, got hit by a spell right in the stomach, launching her into the wall behind her with great force.

as the wizard cheered his own accomplishment and was left unfocused on the other students, jake used the opportunity to strike. “expelliarmus!” he yelled, and the death eater’s wand flew out of his grip and onto the floor, close to where jay was currently standing, fighting the other death eater. as jake stunned the wandless wizard, jay did something he shouldn’t have - he bowed down to pick up the wand from the floor, but in that exact moment, the witch in front of him aimed towards him and was surely about to jinx him-

“levicorpus!” you yelled with all your might, now only standing a few meters away from them both, and the witch too dropped her wand, now hanging in the air upside down. 

jay turned his head to where your voice had come from, and his jaw dropped once he saw your face. “y/n?!”

“petrificus totalus.” the witch now dropped down onto the floor, head first, and you almost felt bad for her for a moment before you started thinking about what she could’ve done to jay if you hadn’t jumped in.

“what are you doing here?” jay exclaimed, coming closer to you. “are you completely crazy?”

“a small 'thanks' would’ve been nice,” you scoffed, and before he had the opportunity to say anything else, you turned your head to where your former classmate had crashed into the wall, and spoke again. “yewon? are you still there?”

you didn’t hear an answer, and you ran over to where you suspected she was - and she was right by the wall, lying on the floor and sobbing as she held an arm to her chest.

“hey, are you alright?” you crouched down next to her, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.

“my arm...” she managed to get out in-between sobs. “it hurts...”

when you looked at it, it wasn’t bleeding nor did it have any visible curses on the skin. you turned your head around to jake, who was now standing behind you. “do you think it’s broken?”

“likely. with that force, i’m surprised more isn’t,” he said, and you nodded agreeingly, pulling out your wand and tapping it to her forearm.

“brackium emendo.”

yewon gave out another cry, but this time it wasn't out of pain. “thank you! thank you so much-”

“y/n,” you heard jay’s stern voice from behind you and you turned around once again. his arms were crossed over his chest, and if you had been anyone else, you likely would’ve crumbled under his gaze. but you couldn’t, not now, there were much more important things to do, people were still screaming on the other side of the castle walls and- “please, can’t we talk?”

you stood up, dusting off your knees with your hands before speaking to jake. “make sure she’s okay, please? and pick up that witch’s wand from the floor, and make sure neither of the death eaters get up.” jake nodded at you, flashing you a small smile, before you walked over to where jay was now standing, two tables away from the others.

the great hall was completely empty now, except for the four of you and the two stunned death eaters, and the atmosphere was almost tranquil, even though there was a full-on war going on just a small distance away.

“what are you doing here?” he asked, the desperation clear in his voice. “i thought they made it clear that-”

“i didn’t get to choose what i wanted to do, i was just forced into the room of requirement like everyone else, and-” you took a deep breath. “of course, i escaped. did you really expect me to just follow the others?”

“yes, because you’re underage, y/n!”

“by two months,” you spat, having a hard time controlling your anger at jay’s stubbornness. “i’m two months too young to fight? that doesn’t make any sense, you know i’m better at charms than most of your classmates!”

he shook his head, his eyes wandering around the room. “they were the rules, y/n. i can’t believe you-”

“can’t believe what? that i would want to fight for my school? fight for my friends? fight for this world to not go under-” you let a few tears fall down your cheeks, and you weren’t sure if it was out of exhaustion, frustration, or despair; likely a combination of them all. but you didn’t bother wiping them away. “fight for you. did you expect that i would just sit at home, just hoping that my friends, family, and boyfriend would all survive? not knowing anything and not being able to affect it would’ve killed me, i think you know-”

you were cut off as he pushed his lips onto yours. your eyes fluttered closed instinctively, and your hand that wasn’t currently holding your wand went up to cup his cheek. he tasted of blood from a small cut on his bottom lip and you tasted of salt from your tears, but neither of you minded. kissing jay felt so familiar; it felt like you were home again. it felt like you were back in your common room with him like you’d been a year ago, when no war had been going on and no dark lord was preparing for his final battle. jay’s lips smoothed over yours with such ease and such softness that if you hadn’t been standing, you could’ve fallen asleep from it.

“hey guys,” jake’s voice made you jump into reality again, and you moved your hand from jay’s cheek to his chest to push him away from you far enough for your lips to part from his again. “i hate to be the one to interrupt your moment, but uh... we should really get going.”

you nodded towards him, before looking back over at jay again, who did not look like he had wanted to stop his previous actions, a tiny pout on his lips. now that you were standing so close to him, you could study his face; there were several smaller wounds all over it, and he winced slightly when you reached up to remove a small piece of glass that had been stuck in a cut below his right eye. you used your thumb to wipe away the blood which had leaked down from a bigger wound by his jaw. “episkey,” you whispered, watching as the skin melted together and soon looked as if nothing had ever happened to it.

there was a loud bang, and the glass of the windows behind the staff table shattered everywhere - and in through the hole ran at least a dozen new death eaters, followed by students, teachers, parents, and other adults who were fighting for your side. and amongst them, you spotted none other than your brother - sunghoon was dueling a death eater, whom you’d seen before in the newspapers, all alone, but as he struck the other wizard with a jinx that seemed to have an extreme force, the death eater flew and slammed into a wall just like yewon had done.

in the few moments that you had stood watching your brother, the people around you hadn’t stopped like you, but instead started helping out in battles. you instantly joined jay’s side again, helping him battle a tall and broad man whose wand was producing beams of light at a faster speed than you had ever seen before. “incarcerous!” jay roared, and ropes appeared out of thin air which wrapped around the death eater and held his limbs tightly together.

“good one,” you told him, and turned around to find someone else to help - but standing right behind you was none other than sunghoon. 

“jay, are you dumb?!” he screamed at the boy standing next to you. beads of sweat were rolling down his face and his dark eyes made him look of a mixture between exasperated and exhausted. “forcing my baby sister into a war?!”

“he didn’t force me, you idiot!” you frowned up at him, groaning. “i chose it myself. and what part of me is baby, sunghoon? i’m almost of age, start treating me like it!”

“either way, you can’t be here! you have to get back to the room of requirement!”

you shook your head and took a step closer to him. “in case you haven’t noticed, they’re fighting in here. if we don’t help out soon, we will all be dead. i’d rather die helping out than die arguing about this!”

you walked past him and raised your wand, ready to strike at a witch jake was taking on at the moment, but sunghoon grabbed your arm and pulled you back. you were about to shake him off and complain when he pulled you into a hug. holding you close, he muttered, “i can’t lose you. please, please, take care. never battle alone.” you squeezed him back and nodded into his chest, before pulling away from him. you heard how he told jay to protect you, and the two of them were just about to hug when a red light missed the tops of their heads by just a few centimeters, almost as if it was a signal that you all needed to get back to the war.

you and jay took on one death eater each, throwing spells and shooting colored jets through the air as quickly as you could. but after stunning your opponent, and helping jay do the same to his, you overlooked the room and realized just how many people there were. it was extremely crowded, with injured people crying for help while lying on the floor and voldemort’s helpers assaulting other wizards and witches with both their wands and their bodies. it was overwhelming, there were too many of them, how would you ever win this? your breath became uneven, and you felt like you weren’t getting any air. your head was spinning, and the ground felt like it was shaking below you - it likely was, to be honest - and you couldn’t stay in your place a second longer.

you turned around slowly, before moving towards the opening of the main hall and looked for the best place to go. to your left, your defense against the dark arts teacher was fighting two robed, tall men all by himself, though he seemed to have no problem doing so; to your right, the hallway was empty, so that’s where you went. you found a hole in the wall a bit away, and you could almost hear the fresh air of the night calling for you, so you climbed out through it. instantly, your lungs were filled with the cold air, making you close your eyes in satisfaction and sit down on the ground, relaxing fully. you instantly felt better, and you felt like you wouldn’t have to be out here for a lot longer before you could back inside, just-

“look at who we have here,” said a female voice from beside you, and you opened your eyes and flew up to stand on the stone debris from what had formerly been the wall. you recognized her instantly - she was one of voldemort’s most faithful followers, and you had read about her and her escape from azkaban in the newspapers before. “isn’t it the little mudblood who’s been helping lee heeseung in his plans against the dark lord?” you raised your wand to attack, but she was quicker. “expelliarmus!” your wand flew up into the air and landed right by her feet. you didn’t even bother trying to fetch it, you knew it would be to no avail. “tell me where the boy is hiding, and i shall spare your life.”

“i don’t know!” you cried out.

she raised her eyebrows. “hmm. maybe this will make you remember. crucio!”

you had never experienced pain like this in your life. you crashed down onto the ground, unable to control anything in your body. the pain was obliterating, intense, all-consuming. you screamed, but you couldn’t hear yourself, all your senses being dulled out by the pain. 

and suddenly, she broke off the curse, though your muscles were still throbbing from the curse. “do you know where he is now, then?” she sneered.

“no-” just as you had managed to whimperingly utter the word, she flicked her wand once again. the second hit of the spell felt a lot like the first, but this time she held it for much longer. your bones were on fire, a million knives were pushing into your skin, boiling water was being poured over your body, your head was about to explode-

the relief you felt when she stopped the curse for the second time was indescribable. high-pitched, horrifying laughs were flowing from the death eater’s mouth before she once again spoke. “i think you know now.”

you wanted to slap the grin off her dark lips, but you had no energy to even stand up. instead, you gathered your last bits of power, and said, “i don’t. and even if i had known, i wouldn’t have told you.”

she chuckled, before shaking her head at you. “you silly girl... you deserve this.”

the third time the spell hit you, it was much worse than the other two times; she must’ve gone extremely angry by now. it felt as if you were in space, there was no air for you to breathe. your lungs weren’t working properly. you wished to do anything to make this extreme pain go away, anything... even disappear or... die...

though it had felt like an eternity for you, there were only a few moments after she’d cursed you that the curse was interrupted once again. you couldn’t even look up; you were curled into a ball on the ground, eyes shut tight, wishing that everything would just be over...

soon, there was a shuffle beside you, and soon a hand lay on your shoulder, shaking it gently. “y/n? are you alive? please, be alive...”

by now, you were just barely breathing; it was too hard, it took too much energy from you and you already had very little left.

“hey, it’s all fine now,” a voice told you, as a hand caressed your cheek. “she’s gone. you’ll be fine. please, just-” the voice paused, and when it returned, you could tell that the person by you had turned around and was now yelling towards the entrance of the castle. “jake! get some water, quick!”

you were too exhausted to listen clearly to his voice and try to recognize it, but from his wording, you could easily tell who it was. slowly, you opened your eyes, looking up at jay who sat crouched next to you. he had more bruises and wounds all over his face now than he had had when you had left him, and he was looking down at you with eyes of such panic that you’d never seen before. “fuck, y/n,” he mumbled. “you can’t just go off like that. do you realize how-”

he stopped in his tracks when you reached up with a hand to thread your fingers through his hair, pushing his fringe back and out of his eyes. “i’m fine.”

“a-are you sure?”

you nodded slowly at him, closing your eyes once again and letting your arm fall to your side. “i just need to...rest a bit...” jay let out a sigh of relief, and his hand went from your shoulder and up to your face, letting his thumb wipe away a few tears that you hadn’t noticed shedding. “what happened to her?” you hummed, voice low.

“oh, you didn’t hear it?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “i stunned her at first, but then voldemort spoke over the grounds and told his forces to retreat, to give us one hour to treat to everyone’s wounds and to say our goodbyes to those who are leaving us. he said that heeseung has an hour to give himself in, or else the war is on again.” 

you were surprised that you hadn't heard voldemort's voice, but then again, you even now had to put in all your force to hear jay properly. you looked up at him. “he’s not going to, is he?” you questioned, to which jay merely shrugged. “he can’t, that’s-”

“y/n, are you okay?! someone told me what happened,” said jake as he came up to you two, an empty plastic bottle in his hand. “i only found this, it’s empty, i know, but i mean you can always-”

“aguamenti,” jay said to cut off his friend’s rambling, filling the bottle quickly before handing it to you. thanking them both, you sat up straight, although every muscle and every ligament in your body screamed as you did, and drank a couple of sips.

deciding that you wouldn’t get anything done sitting there all night, you put away the bottle and pressed your hands into the ground, trying to push yourself up, but instantly failed. jay saw your struggling and bolted up, offering his hand down to you and helping you stand up once you took it in yours. “how’s your balance?” jake asked as you froze for a few seconds when you were trying to figure out if you were blacking out due to the stinging feeling in your head or due to your blood pressure dropping from standing up too quickly.

“not good enough,” you chuckled. “will you guys help me?” they both nodded, and soon they were by your sides, letting you throw your arms across their shoulders to steady you.

as you walked into the castle again through the hole you had come out from a while ago, you couldn’t help but to think about what jay had said earlier. say our goodbyes to those who are leaving us... he made it seem like there are many who were too injured to bring back. there couldn’t be a lot, could there?

“where is heeseung?” you asked, moving your head between them to look at their faces. “he knows we are fighting, right? he can’t give up!”

jake stopped in his tracks, which made you jump back too even though you all were just a few meters from the main hall by now, and he gave jay a very specific look. “you haven’t told her, have you?”

jay rubbed his hand that wasn’t holding you up against the back of his neck. “i- i haven’t found a good moment to do it!”

“wha-” was all you could let out before jake spoke again.

“and you think this is a good moment?!” he almost yelled, shaking his head at jay.

“i don’t think we’ll find a better one, nor that we have any choice,” jay groaned, and just as your confusion and frustration of not being allowed into the conversation peaked, someone ran into your view.

“oh my god, y/n!” cried yewon, running up to you. “i’m so sorry for your loss, i wish there was something i could’ve done-”

and that’s when it hit you. you realized what jay and jake had been referring to, but you refused to believe it. she must’ve been confused, it can’t have been true, nothing was wrong-

you pulled away your arms from the boys and ignored their calls of your name when you sprinted forwards, past yewon and into the hall. you pushed away your thoughts of your aching muscles and how it was likely unwise to do this; nothing was more important right now than making it all the way to where the dead bodies lay in the middle of the room. they had removed the tables by now, and people were gathering in groups around the wizards and witches on the floor, though you couldn’t see anything other than the one body you were aiming towards. and as you reached him, the world turned black.

“sunghoon,” you whispered, crouching down to the floor and shaking him by his shoulders. “please, sunghoon. you’re not dead, you can’t die, not now, you...” before you knew it, your sobs were uncontrollable, your face buried in his dusty cloak. this couldn’t be real. there was no way. “wake up... i beg of you...”

you felt someone sit down next to you, and then a hand on your back. you instantly turned around and threw yourself into jay’s embrace, crying out loud. your hands clutched at the material covering his chest and once again you had trouble breathing, your breaths unnaturally short and rapid. jay held your trembling body to him as tightly as he could, hoping that if you felt that he was there with you he’d be able to hold you down in reality, to make sure your mind wasn’t floating away. 

but as time passed, and you started realizing that sunghoon wouldn't come back, your sorrow turned into something else. vengefulness. they weren't getting away with this. 

[rmnamjoons]

Taking Flight [KNJ Oneshot]

➳ summary: More than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

➳ pairing: pilot!Namjoon x pilot!reader

➳ genre: smut, sci fi au, post apocalypse au, alien invasion au, rivals to friends to lovers

➳ word count: 15.2k

➳ read on ao3, link to my masterlist

➳ tags: smut, reunion sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, emotional loving sex, soft dom namjoon, dirty talk (no degradation), rivals to friends to lovers, sexually charged fight/sparring scene when they’re rivals, previously seemingly unrequited love/mutual pining, shower sex, multiple positions, namjoon is needy and so in love

➳ warnings: unnamed character death/death mention, blood mention, injury mention/vague description

➳ a/n: I know this is kind of a niche genre for smut fics; I primarily wrote this for myself, and I definitely had fun and like what I came up with! What’s the point of fanfiction anyway, if not to have fun? Also, this takes place over a few years, and I tried to portray how Namjoon was feral and angry when he was younger but is now a loving gentle giant. Enjoy!

I.

Everybody lost someone in the attacks that killed most of the planet. Friends. Family. Partners. You had lost everything and everyone, like most people who’d lived in the cities that no longer had names — what once had been centers of commerce, tourism, and civilization were now nothing more than craters, and with so few left who remembered them, what they’d once been were now lost to time.

You'd only survived by chance, really. You and your family had been in a tunnel leaving the city, on foot like everyone else, and when everything had turned to chaos, you’d gotten lost from your parents and sister. You still remembered the way people screamed and ran through the tunnel, their voices echoing harshly off the cement walls. You’d spotted someone hiding off to the side in a utility room in the tunnel, and when the blast hit the city center, that person had made you hide in the room too, their body shielding yours from the hellfire, melting around you.

You were five years old then. You were pretty sure your sister had been eight. You couldn’t remember what your parents or sister looked like, or your house, or where you’d gone to school, other than vague flashes and shapes of people who’d once been your whole world. All you’d had with you were the clothes on your back, and even those had been taken away once you’d gotten somewhere safe and been given something clean to change into.

After the ships fell and surviving aliens left, it had taken years to clear the rubble and start over. The attacks that changed and destroyed everything had also been a gift, or so they now preached, in which humanity was able to grow, learn, and become united. The religions and cults who now worshiped the alien attackers believed humanity had deserved extermination, but you liked the more academic approach to the alien race’s lessons: the technology humans had been able to reverse engineer from their fallen ships.

One of the many ways humanity had advanced in the last few years was flight technology. Planes were faster, turned sharper, could go farther, burned cleaner energy. The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was how important Earth’s planes had been in beating them, so that was where all the technology and progress was focused now.

You loved planes and flying, you always had, but the real reason you wanted to be a pilot, you held much closer to your chest: your entire life, you always felt like the attacks when you were young were just the beginning. Like an unhealthy obsession or open wound, it was all you could think about sometimes, what drove your every decision, what led you to the Pilot Cadet Corps. You wanted to be part of the team that took them down if they ever came back. You wanted to be ready.

You were eighteen when you’d joined the Corps. You’d jumped on that opportunity the first moment you were able, without so much as a second glance back at what you left behind. You’d been adopted fairly soon after the attacks, but your adopted parents never felt much like family.

The first full year of Corps was bootcamp. Bunk rooms were co-ed, and every moment of your lives was dictated down to the second. You woke up at six in the morning and ran laps around the track. You had as much free time as you earned between whenever you finished your laps and when breakfast started at seven: the faster you ran, the more free time you got.

Eight to noon was physical training. After lunch was different depending on the day: three days a week you had mental training for whatever field you were going into, mostly flight simulation for the pilots. Another day was more combat training, and the last was an alternate, for first aid, written tests, marksmanship, and other courses along those lines. After that you had more physical training, like sparring and hand-to-hand combat, then dinner, then free time. Lights out was strictly at ten-thirty every night, and then you’d start it all over again the next day.

Now, you stood in line with the other cadets training to be pilots, waiting to hear your class ranks. Every month, they would announce a ranking of all cadets, a score averaged in test results, simulator scores, and overall performance. The better you ranked, the better your placement once you graduated.

“Third place, Park. Eighty-nine point nine,” the sergeant read off, making a small boy a few rows away from you puff up his chest in pride. You weren’t sure why anyone would feel proud of not getting an A, but you pushed that thought away.

You swallowed hard, holding your breath. There were only two spots left, and if you’d scored higher than Park, that meant you got an A and were either in second or first place out of the whole class. You didn’t know everyone’s names yet, so you weren’t sure who you were competing with.

“Second place, Y/L/N. Ninety-five point two.”

You heard the impressed murmur of others in the class before all of them were silenced by a firm look from the sergeant. Your heart sank, your hands curling into tight fists. Second place? You’d been so sure before now that you were working harder than all the other cadets. You were smarter than them, faster, more focused. Who the fuck had beaten you?

“First place, Kim. Ninety-five point three.”

Your brow furrowed. You weren’t sure who this Kim was, but you set your jaw, becoming determined to learn everything about them so you could beat them. Whatever their weaknesses were, you’d find them and exploit them.

You snuck a glance around you, trying to figure out who Kim was, and nearly jumped out of your skin when the tall boy next to you made eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow in the most smug, cocky, asshole-ish look you’d ever seen. That one singular eyebrow quirk, the corner of his lip curling up barely noticeably, all of it made you want to seethe and strangle him.

You’d noticed this man before, but had never thought much of him. He was taller than all the other men, but he hadn’t come off as particularly smart or extraordinary. This guy was the one who’d beaten you?

Now that you looked at him, you noticed he was definitely very muscular. Had he beaten your score through his strength? You could work harder at weight lifting and beat him. Were his test scores perfect? You could make yourself study even more.

Whatever it was that made him first place, you’d find out and beat him.

II.

In the following weeks, you began to wonder how you’d ever missed Kim Namjoon.

You and Namjoon both worked harder than everyone else. You both trained longer, started earlier in the morning and kept going until you were the last ones left. You both pushed yourselves harder than all of your other classmates, academically and physically. Before he was placed first in the class, you hadn’t even noticed him, but now he was the bane of your existence, and you existed only to beat him and come out on top.

You were faster and more agile, but Namjoon was by far stronger. You almost wanted to dispute the scoring system; what use was strength for a pilot? You weren’t soldiers. He needed fast reflexes and precision, not fighting skills or the ability to deadlift two hundred pounds. Was he planning on picking up planes and throwing them at the alien ships? It was so stupid.

The second month of bootcamp, you were the top of the class, and Namjoon was second place now. You smiled smugly to yourself and kept your eyes focused forward, staying perfectly at attention like the other cadets, but you could feel his eyes on you and almost sense his focused anger, that same emotion you’d felt when he’d first beaten you.

After the ranking announcements, you went to combat training in the gym, but your instructor called out both your name and Namjoon’s before you could even get started.

“I want the two of you to spar,” the instructor said as the two of you ran up. “No rules, just fighting. You can use boxing, wrestling, martial arts, whatever you want — just don’t kill each other.”

You narrowed your eyes at Namjoon, almost expecting him to refuse to fight you, for being a girl. Besides occasional glares, the two of you had never so much as said a word to each other, but you figured smug alpha male assholes were all the same.

But instead, Namjoon smiled and said, “All right.” He almost seemed eager to get in the ring and teach you a lesson.

Now, you eyed him from across the ring, how he was watching you with a smug little smirk as he wrapped his knuckles.

“To win, pin the other person’s back to the mat for five full seconds,” your instructor said carefully. “Their back has to fully touch the ground, not just shoulders. They don’t have to be conscious to be pinned.”

You and Namjoon made eye contact at that.

“Whoever wins doesn’t have to run laps next week. Loser runs double laps before eating. You both ready?”

You and Namjoon ended up drawing a crowd of spectators.

The moment the instructor said start, you ran, jumped, and wrapped your legs around his head, twisting and throwing him to the ground so that he was on his back and you stood over his head, smirking down at his stupid surprised face.

He’d hit the mat hard, the breath completely knocked out of him. A few people in the crowd murmured quietly to themselves and quietly asked each other if the fight was already over. You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself feel proud for a split second as you glanced at the spectators, but before you could register what was happening, Namjoon grabbed you by both your legs, making you twist and fall hard on your back, too.

You tried to crawl away from him, but he just pulled you under him by your legs, climbing on top of you and trying to hold you down with his hands. You arched your back as high as you could, touching the mat only with your shoulders and ass as Namjoon fought to grab your wrists. He was on top of you, straddling your abdomen and trying to keep you down without actually touching your chest, and you watched him bite his lip and heard him growl as he focused on not getting hit while you thrashed beneath him.

You brought your leg up and kneed his kidney as hard as you could, making him groan before moving back to pin your legs down too. You could now easily keep your back fully off the mat, but he was straddling you much lower now, bending over you and still trying to grab your arms. This close, you could smell him, his sweat and masculine scent mixed with the cheap soap you all were given, and you had to push aside the fact you kind of liked the way he smelled.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath. You watched Namjoon as he glanced down at your breasts, before his eyes snapped back up at your face, his eyes wide as if he were surprised he’d let himself look.

“Having fun?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Tons,” he growled, finally catching one of your hands and pinning it down by your wrist.

You hooked your leg up as far as you could, wrapping it around him and using his close proximity to your advantage. This seemed to catch Namjoon very off guard, and you felt more than heard him make a noise in surprise as you essentially embraced him, not giving him any space to move or do anything as you pulled your hand free and wrapped all your limbs around him, hanging off of him like a leach.

Namjoon sat back on his knees, and you held onto him, your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, waiting for your moment to use his weight against him and throw him on his back. He was squirming and wearing himself out, while you just squeezed him, hard enough you heard something in him crack.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, trying to pry you off of him. Before you could answer, he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head backwards, making you gasp and cry out. He started to force you off by getting his hands between your bodies, but you surprised him, grabbing his throat with both hands and squeezing.

Namjoon forcefully brought his hands down on your arms, bending them so that you let go of his neck, and now you were much closer to his face, nearly nose to nose as he still sat there on his knees with you hanging off of him. He held your wrists with both hands now as you tried to struggle free from him, and when you realized you couldn’t, you twisted one wrist, bringing his hand up to your mouth and biting down as hard as you could on the meat of his thumb.

He yelped and let go of you, but before you could use the moment to your advantage, he grabbed you and pushed you off of him, throwing you down away from him while he scrambled back and looked at his hand.

Your body bounced as you hit the mat, rolling a few times until you slammed against the edge of the ring. Namjoon was back on you before you could react, and you felt him behind you, trying to roll you over so he could pin you down on your back again. You brought your head back hard and connected with his nose, making him jump back again.

When you looked back at him, Namjoon was standing across the ring, holding his nose and glaring at you as you jumped to your feet too.

You circled each other for a moment, both closely watching the other’s every move like prey.

His nose was bleeding heavily, both of you out of breath and covered in sweat.  You were pretty sure you had a bruised rib from him throwing you, your lungs burning from exertion from the fight. Everyone who’d been in the gym was now watching, none of them speaking as the two of you circled each other.

You ran at each other at the same time, Namjoon throwing a swing that you easily ducked. While his momentum was off, you punched him hard in the stomach, making him bend over in pain.

He was being sloppy, maybe distracted from his pain and anger, or maybe he was just more of a big clumsy oaf who relied on strength alone than you’d thought. You knew he was smart based on his test scores, but none of that appeared to translate to agility or finesse. He was fighting clumsy and angry, but you only felt more focused now, catching yourself smiling as you almost enjoyed yourself.

When you tried to strike him again, moving to hit your elbow between his shoulders while he was bent over, he turned and reached up, grabbing your neck with both hands. You broke his hold easily, and used that moment to bring your hand up and smack his injured nose.

Namjoon groaned in pain, holding his nose again. You grabbed his free hand, twisting it until he turned around and fell to his knees, yelling in pain, his arm bent painfully behind his back. You now stood behind him, Namjoon unable to move unless he wanted you to break or dislocate his arm, you on your feet with him on his knees.

“Do you forfeit?” you said, pulling his arm up another inch and making him hiss in pain. You could see how much he was sweating and panting, and ignored the way it sent a shiver of lust through you.

“You play dirty,” he seethed. Just standing close to him, you could feel the way heat radiated off of him. You’d noticed before that he was a sweaty guy, but now he was shining with it.

“I seem to remember being told that there were no rules for this fight,” you said, smiling proudly to yourself as you held the large man in place with one hand.

Instead of responding, Namjoon threw himself backwards into you, knocking you off your feet. You were on your back now and he was on his back on top of you, pinning you there. He had to have at least pulled his arm out of socket doing that move, and his body tensed from the pain, but he didn’t stop.

Namjoon pushed down with his shoulders as hard as he could, arching his back and standing up on his feet, bending his legs to put even more weight on just his shoulders to trap you there under him. You were crushed by him, barely able to breathe, let alone keep yourself fully off the mat.

He was so big and heavy, his shoulders wide enough to pin your arms down. You did the only thing you could think to do in the moment, what you hoped would give you an advantage again. You leaned in and bit down where his shoulder met his neck, the same side his arm was dislocated, and you bit down hard.

Namjoon yelped in surprise and pain, and you wrapped your arms around him in a chokehold so that when he tried to roll away, you went with him. He twisted in your arms until he was on top of you, facing you again, and this time you brought your knee up hard between his legs, his eyes closing as he groaned in agony.

You easily pushed him off and got on top of him, straddling his chest and pinning him down. Your knees pressed your full weight down on his biceps, including his injured arm, which made him groan in pain with every harsh exhale. He arched his back and tried to push you off of him, but he could barely move or reach you, his arms both pinned outward.

“Tired of getting your ass kicked yet?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow when Namjoon glared up at you. “How were you ever the top of our class? This is a little too easy.”

“Fuck you,” he growled, seething hard, blood all over his mouth and chin from his broken nose. His back still wasn’t technically on the ground though, so you needed to think of a way to make him stay down.

You were straddling his chest, so you moved your hips forward suddenly before throwing your whole body back, slamming yourself down hard and completely knocking the wind out of him. You simultaneously knocked him down so that his back was against the mat, and purposefully hit the back of your head against his crotch, which had to still be hurting from when you’d just kneed him a minute ago, so that he wouldn’t have the strength to get himself back up for a few seconds. You heard what you thought was a crack, which you really hoped wasn’t his crotch, before you heard and felt him groaning in pain.

The instructor counted out, and you won. You immediately jumped off of him and looked down at the damage.

Blood covered Namjoon’s chin, mouth, and neck, all from his nose wound, which you’d smacked more than once. He was bleeding from the bite on his neck, and his shoulder did not look right, pulled painfully out of socket and potentially broken. He rolled onto his side away from you and moaned, the hand of his arm that wasn’t dislocated over his crotch as he curled up in a ball on the ground.

“You all right?” you asked cautiously, stepping out of the way as the instructor rushed in to help him. Namjoon held up his middle finger to you, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily.

You snorted in amusement and went off to the locker room to shower.

That night, Namjoon limped into dinner.

You were sitting by yourself at a table near the back, reading a book written by a pilot from before the attacks. Namjoon sat down across from you, as if sitting together was something the two of you normally did.

His nose was badly bruised and taped up, definitely broken. Judging by the limp he’d come in with, you’d messed up something below deck. His arm seemed to have been popped back in socket, but you could see the bruising spreading over his collarbone under his t-shirt, and his arm was in a sling. He had bite marks on his neck and hand, and the one on his neck had needed stitches.

You tried not to smile to yourself.

“Y/L/N?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure of your name, like you two weren’t rivals constantly competing and you hadn’t kicked his ass a few hours ago.

“Kim,” you said, returning the formality.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you went back to eating, trying not to look over at him. He rested his non-injured hand on his stomach, and you wondered if you’d broken one of his ribs or if he was just hungry.

“You planning on eating?” you asked him after a moment.

Namjoon actually smiled, laughing to himself weakly.

“I don’t think I even have the energy to walk across the room to get food,” he murmured, his voice a little deeper than usual.

Without a word, you stood, walking straight across the room to get another plate of food. When you returned and placed it in front of him, he looked up at you with wide eyes, confused and shocked by your gesture.

“Do you need me to cut it up for you, too?” you teased, though glancing at his arm, you wondered if he’d actually need that.

Namjoon shook his head after a moment, glancing down at his plate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You saw a small, genuine smile on his lips, and you realized then for the very first time that he had dimples.

III.

The following week came, as did Namjoon’s punishment week for losing the sparring match. The first morning, you noticed him waking up earlier than everyone else to go start his laps, since he had to do double. You quickly got dressed and followed.

You ran up beside him as he slowly jogged around the track.

“What are you doing?” He looked over at you, furrowing his brow but not stopping.

“Running laps,” you answered flatly.

You ran the same number of laps as he did that morning, despite having won the right not to run this week. Namjoon, you learned, had a broken rib and pulled groin in addition to all the other stuff you’d done to him, and he’d been given an out and didn’t have to run any laps after all. Your instructor had told him that he needed to focus on healing and not accidentally hurt himself more. He didn’t have to do combat training or anything else physical until he was healed, but he still ran his punishment laps anyway, completely by choice, and so you ran them too, matching his pace the entire time, neither of you saying a word to the other.

Despite getting his ass kicked in the sparring match, the rest of the cadets viewed Namjoon as almost a superhero after that. They respected how well he’d taken a beating; he was the guy who kept fighting, even with half a dozen injuries and multiple broken bones. You were the only one who’d been able to best him, using just your speed to outwit him, and now the rest of the class respected you both even more. Namjoon was a nearly unstoppable tank, and you were the lithe fox that beat him.

As boot camp continued, you and Namjoon continued your quiet friendship, neither of you the overly gushy or warm type, both focused only on training. You studied together, and started helping each other instead of competing. Both of you only improved your scores and times.

Namjoon helped you with your physical training, helping you get stronger. You helped him with his marksmanship, precision, and speed. You regularly sparred and fought and pushed each other further. You studied together, fought together, ate together, did everything together.

The first year of Corps ended, and you entered the second year. This was more specialized, focused on specifically becoming a pilot with more time on flight training instead of physical and military training, which you still definitely had a lot of.

Your class was smaller now, but you still slept in a co-ed barrack. You and Namjoon picked spots next to each other this year.

One night during winter break, almost everyone else had gone home for the week, the two of you essentially having the base to yourselves. It was well past midnight and after lights out, but you and Namjoon laid in your beds talking quietly, both on your sides facing each other. You only had about a foot of space between your beds, and you could just barely make out his face in the dark.

Namjoon told you that he remembered the attacks, losing his family, everything. He’d had a sister too, and had lived in a suburb, not one of the cities. He didn’t explain further, but said that he remembered what happened to his family, and that he’d been found in the woods by himself weeks later. He’d only been seven years old at the time, and you wondered how the hell he’d made it on his own for so long.

You got the feeling he was used to being on his own, and didn’t let himself get attached to anything or anyone. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him he didn’t have to be alone anymore. But instead you sighed, ignoring the way his sad eyes made your heart ache.

IV.

Your second year turned into your third, and you and Namjoon only became closer. You both planned to go on to a fourth year of training, even though it wasn’t required, as it would give you higher credentials and clearance when you finished. Both of you still strived to be perfect, after all.

Halfway through your third year together, you realized Namjoon was the closest thing you had to family. You both saw each other pretty much every moment of every day. You both didn’t leave the base for holidays, so the longest you’d been apart since first meeting was a few hours, at most.

You were constantly together, even when you didn’t need to be. You woke up early and ran laps, even though you were no longer required to — only first year cadets ran laps, but you both continued because… you didn’t know why, and you didn’t question it. You loved running with him.

That first year together, Namjoon had been stoic and quiet. He didn’t talk much, unless directly questioned, and even then he kept his answers as concise as possible. You weren’t exactly talkative, but when the two of you talked to each other alone, especially in the past few years, Namjoon began coming out of his shell. When he wasn’t guarded and quiet, he was warm and funny, almost loving in his own kind of way. You got the feeling he was naturally full of love, but had pushed that part of himself down in the years he’d spent alone and in shelters.

Now, you were giving Namjoon a haircut. His hair grew weirdly fast, and there were rules about keeping everything, including hair, perfectly in uniform. Men had to have very short hair and be clean-shaven, which meant Namjoon had to get a haircut basically every other week.

When it was warm you did this outside, but now it was winter and you were in the locker room. While you worked, you talked about upcoming tests and other little things. You kept catching Namjoon looking up at you as you stood in front of him, between his spread legs, and he seemed to be getting bolder, watching your face outright instead of just stealing glances.

“Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact you were blushing and flustered. Namjoon listened without a word, and you let yourself look at him for just a second; your faces were close, even with him sitting and you standing, because of how tall he was. You’d been obsessed with his lips lately, finding yourself fantasizing about them at the most inopportune times, thinking about how soft and full they looked and wondering what they’d feel like against your own.

Before you could pull yourself from your thoughts and start on the front of his hair, the power suddenly cut out.

You let out a small gasp, but this wasn’t exactly surprising around here. The power went out often because of the testing they were doing with switching over completely to alien tech for larger power structures. Still, you’d gasped in surprise because you’d been so focused on Namjoon’s face, and now the two of you were alone together in a dark locker room.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

Of course you were okay; the lights had just gone off.

“Yeah,” you answered anyway. You moved your hands from over his head to his shoulders, feeling him in the dark.

“It’ll be back on in a second, we’re okay,” he said, his thumbs moving slightly, like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know,” you said, your voice sounding small. You weren’t afraid at all, but you didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.

The lights came back on then, and you looked down at him. Namjoon smiled up at you, dimples on full display, and it nearly took your breath away. He had a little piece of cut hair on his cheek, which you gently brushed away, and he wrinkled his nose at you, making your heart ache.

You finished giving him his haircut, and afterwards he pulled off his shirt and went over to one of the showers, to wash off the pieces of hair you’d cut. You gathered up the electric razor and your other belongings while you heard him undressing behind you, turning on the shower and humming happily to himself.

You stopped yourself from looking at him as you walked out of the room and went back to the barracks, refusing to let yourself think about him showering or the way he’d looked at you.

VI.

Your last year of training was mostly just the two of you working together and with various superior officers. You’d get promotions and rank changes after some time in the field, but you’d start out as Senior Airmen, and would probably both make Staff Sergeant within a few years of graduating. There were no wars or active duty anymore, but it meant you’d both be given leadership positions, if ever the need arose.

After graduation, you and Namjoon would both receive your assignments and placements. You’d both requested to be placed together, without requesting anything else. You could be sent anywhere in the world, given any position; you didn’t care where you ended up though, as long as you were with him.

Since it was your last year, you were both given proper rooms instead of barracks. The rooms were small and minimal, but your room was right across from Namjoon’s. You spent a lot of time in each other’s rooms, even sometimes sleeping over.

Now, you laid on Namjoon’s bed in his room, while he sat at the chair by his desk with his feet propped up on the end of his bed. He was playing with a stress ball, passing it back and forth between his hands. You’d finished all your testing and training, so you were both basically just resting until graduation, anticipating your placements. It was late at night, the rest of the base quiet and sleeping.

“Dream placement,” you said, turning your head and pointing at him. “Go.”

“Oh, man…” Namjoon rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling. “Southern California.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What’s in Southern California, besides desert?”

“That’s the closest base to where the first ship went down. They’ve got the best tech out there, the best planes.”

“Okay, true,” you sighed. “But there’s nothing out there for miles. There’d be nothing to do.”

“What else is there, besides flying?” Namjoon threw the little ball he was playing with gently so it bounced off the wall beside you and landed on your stomach.

“I like flying and being able to see something besides sand, rock, and craters for hundreds of miles,” you said, tossing the ball back to him.

“You feel like you’re going faster if you don’t have anything to look at,” he said, catching the ball with one hand and tossing it behind him onto his desk.

“You also get lost easier,” you laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Not if you’re a good navigator,” Namjoon laughed too, standing up and moving onto the bed with you. He wasn’t exactly tickling you, but he was touching your body and you were both giggling as he laid down beside you.

“If you want to feel like you’re going fast, then just go fast,” you said, your hands on his shoulders now as you grinned up at him. He was partially on top of you, partially beside you as he smiled down at you, his mouth so close to yours.

“I want to go even faster,” he said, but he stilled suddenly, looking down at you with wide eyes. He seemed to have suddenly realized the position the two of you were in, and he moved so that he was just beside you, laying on his side as you laid on your back.

You sighed. It was always like this — not that you were complaining, because you loved the relationship you already had with him. But lately, you’d get so close, almost kissing, almost embracing, almost something, and then he’d back off. You still loved the moments before, where you could forget that you were just friends and pretend you were something more, as much as it ended up hurting your heart in the long run.

Even now, you loved this. Namjoon propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you as you continued talking, a different topic now. Your mouths were only a few inches apart. It would be so easy for him to just lean down and kiss you, like you wanted him to so badly.

Namjoon’s hand that wasn’t supporting his head rested on your stomach. You put your hands there too, playing with him, feeling his long fingers and how big his hand was, and Namjoon let you, pretending not to notice.

You talked about graduation plans, life plans, little nothings that made each other sadly smile. Neither of you said it, but you both worried you wouldn’t be placed together.

“What’s your dream placement?” he asked you gently, his voice soft.

“You know, I don’t even care,” you said. Because it didn’t matter where they put you as long as you were with him, but you didn’t say that.

That night the two of you fell asleep like that, in that position. It wasn’t the first time.

VII.

When you woke up, you could feel Namjoon’s gentle breathing on your neck. You turned your head and looked at him, studying his expression in the early morning calm.

He was still on his side facing you, so now you were face-to-face, your foreheads and noses only a few inches apart. His hand still rested on your stomach, and you still held his hand there with both of your hands. You felt his fingers twitch a little in his sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His other arm was under the pillow now, and through it you could almost feel the swell of his bicep and warmth of his skin.

You only ever let yourself really look at him like this when he was sleeping, when the two of you had sleepovers in each other’s rooms. You studied the shape of his nose, the way his big, plush lips parted, the puffiness of his cheeks as he relaxed and breathed, every freckle and mole on his face that you wanted to kiss so badly. Cuddled up with him like this, you could feel how warm he was; Namjoon was a furnace of a man, and you’d gotten so used to sharing a bed with him the past few months, you now had to layer up and sleep with an extra blanket whenever you slept alone.

Namjoon sighed then, shifting a little in his sleep. You quickly closed your eyes and turned your head back so you weren’t facing him directly, in case he opened his eyes.

You felt him moving, shifting so that his arm was hugging you instead of his hand just resting on you. His hand was now on your side, below your armpit, his thumb on the side of your breast. He sighed and seemed to fall back asleep, softly snoring again after a few moments.

You laid like that for a while, enjoying this feeling, knowing you’d never have this for real. You'd never wake up next to Namjoon in the context you wanted, but this was more than enough for you. You were so in love with him, but he didn’t see you the same way, so you’d enjoy waking up in his arms for as long as you could.

When Namjoon eventually woke up on his own, he seemed to slowly realize the position you were in, moving his hand down carefully to more platonic territory. You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him, and were caught off guard by the way he was staring at you so openly, looking down at your mouth for a few moments before looking back at your eyes with an expression you couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so softly you could barely hear him, but you could feel the rumble of it in his chest. You didn’t say anything, both of you just looking at each other in the peaceful quiet stillness of early morning, the only noises both of your gentle breathing.

Namjoon moved his hand up to your shoulder, and then his hand was cupping your cheek, brushing your hair back from your face. The tips of your noses were almost touching, his warm breath on your lips. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against yours, your heart almost stopping in your chest from how close he was. He’s never done anything like this before, and you definitely were not going to stop him.

He turned his head slightly, your foreheads still connected as the tip of his nose skimmed along your cheek, by your nose. He brushed his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel him, his eyes still closed. You could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek, and prayed he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was racing or how you nearly whimpered at his every touch.

Namjoon moved and brushed his barely parted lips against the corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw. His hand on your cheek, he stroked your skin with his thumb slowly, touching you, feeling you. His leg moved up slowly, hooking over yours, and you spread your legs for him. You couldn’t even think straight right now, the only things your brain were processing were the touches and sensations Namjoon was giving you.

What the hell was he doing? The thought of him seeing you romantically, the same way you saw him, had seemed so impossible before now, but now, as he brushed his lips against your skin, you wondered if he’d been longing the same way you had.

Namjoon turned your head carefully, slightly away from him, so that you were looking directly up again. He kissed your cheek closer to him while he stroked the other, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses down your face and neck as he slowly moved himself on top of you. You, matching his slow movements, wrapped your legs loosely around him and held onto his shoulders.

Namjoon kissed your skin as lightly as he could, feeling you anywhere you’d let him, and you were lost in him. He switched to your other side, kissing your collarbone and neck and jaw, and one of his hands moved up behind your head, tangling in your hair. Every movement was slow and deliberate and gentle.

You never would’ve guessed Namjoon was the gentle type, but now that this was happening, it made sense and you craved it. He closed his lips lightly against your earlobe and you gasped loudly, trying to arch up against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear. “So soft, so perfect, my angel, my love.” His voice was so warm and deep, and you quietly whimpered, holding onto his shoulders even tighter. You felt like he could make you come just from this, just from his light touches and hearing his deep voice praise you. You'd wanted him so badly for years now, you’d dreamed about him, fantasized nonstop, and now here he was, and the tension was already building up for you.

He hadn’t even fully kissed your mouth yet. Namjoon pressed his lips against your cheek, caressing the other side of your face with his hand, just holding your body so close to his. You swore you could die right now and be fine with that.

An alarm suddenly blared, and both of your bodies stilled and tensed.

Namjoon jumped off of you and sat back on his legs, looking around the room like he was expecting to see what was happening written on the walls. You sat up too, looking around. Your legs were still spread, your brain still hazy from Namjoon’s kisses, and you looked at him as you saw him working through what was happening.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said, quickly jumping up. He sat back down on the side of his bed long enough to put on his shoes. “Come on,” he said, pulling you up when he stood again.

You snapped yourself out of your lust-haze. The alarm was still going off, which meant something major was happening right now. It wasn’t just a test.

You left, quickly scampering across the hall to your own room so you could get dressed.

You and Namjoon met up in between your rooms a moment later, both in uniform, and ran down together to where the rest of the base had gathered, Namjoon taking your hand in his as you ran.

VIII.

It was another attack, like when you were young.

You all stood there at attention receiving orders, none of you looking anywhere except forward blankly. This was it, everything you had trained for, the exact reason you’d trained so hard. They were back.

You and Namjoon were both assigned as squadron leaders to two different units, Namjoon to Red One and you to Blue One. Those were two of the best, most elite units of fighter jets, but you looked over at him when you got your assignments. You weren’t together, so you wouldn’t know if he was okay until after it was all over.

You were all dismissed and had fifteen minutes to get to your planes and prepare for launch. You went straight to your plane, not stopping to talk to Namjoon. You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave him once you looked at him, so it was better to just pretend this morning hadn’t happened.

You were just starting to climb the ladder up to your plane when you heard his voice.

“Not saying goodbye?”

You froze in your tracks, but didn’t turn or look at him. You couldn’t make yourself say anything, instead just staring straight in front of you with your hands on the rungs of the ladder.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice much softer now as he walked over to you. The planes were close together so you were in tight quarters, and he stood right behind you, his hands not quite touching your sides.

“What?” you said, not looking back at him.

“Please don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said. You'd never heard his voice like this. Quiet, pleading, loving. It was like this morning in bed, but more desperate, yearning, begging you to look at him.

You started to move up the ladder without turning around, and he put his hands on your hips, stopping you. He immediately let go, not wanting to trap you there.

You sighed and turned around to face him, only partially, still a step up on the ladder so you were just slightly taller than him. You reached back and held onto the ladder with one hand as you looked at him.

When you saw the expression on his face, it took your breath away. He looked almost tearful, sick with worry, trying to be stronger than how he obviously felt.

“Goodbye,” you said softly, bringing your free hand up to his cheek.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and tried to smile weakly. His hair was getting a little long, you noticed then for some reason. He was supposed to keep it short to stay in uniform, but now it looked long enough for you to run your fingers through.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide and innocent, searching your face. Around you, the base was chaotic and busy as other pilots ran to their planes and officers barked out orders and engines started up. The two of you just stood there in your quiet moment, both a lot less excited about your first mission than you’d thought you’d be, everything happening so much sooner then you’d both thought and on such a larger scale than you ever could have anticipated. You remembered almost wanting this when you were young, promising yourself that you’d be ready if they ever came back. Maybe the universe was punishing you; whenever you loved someone, the universe immediately sought to take it from you. Your family when you were young, and now Namjoon.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you or tell you something. He parted his lips and glanced at your mouth, his brow furrowing as he breathed, and he looked back up at your eyes, his expression so worried.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, smiling gently.

You turned and climbed up into your plane without another word.

V.

There had been twenty pilots in your squadron when you left, and four when you returned.

You didn’t really remember the aliens from when you were little, but you’d seen countless videos. You knew what they looked like, how they performed, what their technology was supposed to be like, what their weaknesses had been.

You saw so many planes go down. The alien ship had a different defense than last time, and the fight was only over when the alien ship suddenly left and moved on, seemingly just because it wanted to, not because the humans posed any kind of threat to it. When it left, it had taken out an entire city, just like last time. The town near the base had only recently gotten its infrastructure set up.

You and your three surviving pilots returned first out of all the other squadrons. You quickly climbed out of your plane and ran down to the hangar, asking about the other pilots still out there. You needed to know if Namjoon was okay.

Before you even got to the hangar, another alarm started blaring. A plane near you exploded, and you spun around, looking up at the sky.

There had to be over a hundred alien ships in the sky, all firing on the base and the planes.

“Get inside, now!” you yelled, pointing at the pilots from your squadron who’d ducked down near their planes. You knew the base had a bunker, and the number of people at the base now could easily survive down there long-term.

There was panic as people got down there as fast as they could, all climbing over each other and yelling. You stayed back where you could see the sky, ducking down in a safe spot and watching as long as you could. You only saw alien ships, none of your own.

You imagined Namjoon’s last seconds. If he hadn’t made it back to the base, there was no way he’d survive. The ships would find him. You could only see the planes you’d seen exploding earlier, hear the voices of the pilots in your squadron on your coms as their ships exploded. A cut-off shout, and then nothing.

You finally made yourself run down to the bunker. In the distance, you could hear the ships destroying every visible part of the base, every last truck and car and plane and tank exploding as the blasts hit them. The walls shook and lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling as you made your way down the stairwell to the bunker.

Over the destruction above you, you could hear Namjoon’s voice that morning in his bed, the world frozen around you then, the only things that mattered his large, gentle hands, his slow, exploring mouth, and his soft voice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’d breathed against your neck. You'd been able to feel his smile, the tip of his nose tracing your jaw, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You'd never felt safer than when you were laying in bed with him.

You pushed the door of the bunker shut behind you, your hands shaking and eyes welling up. You could not think about this; you had to push all of that aside for now. You had a job to do.

After about five minutes down in the bunker, the lights went out. The weak backup generator kicked on near-immediately, but now there was no connection to the outside world. If any pilots managed to survive this long, the base wouldn’t know about it or have any way of contacting them.

When you’d taken off, both you and Namjoon had been promoted to captains, to lead your squadrons. Once all of the remaining people at the base were down in the bunker and accounted for, you were promoted again, this time to major.

Almost everyone out of the thousand or so people on the base had gone out to fight. The only people who’d stayed behind were ground control officers, technicians, first years, civilians who worked on the base, and the top few people in charge. There were maybe a few hundred people down in the massive bunker now, and you ranked sixth in command out of all of them.

Namjoon would’ve been so jealous you outranked him, you thought with a small smile.

VI.

Four days passed with no news.

There was no service. There was no internet, radio, or any connection to the outside world.

You were itching to get out. There was no news from the outside world, but there also hadn’t been any explosions since the first day. The alien ships had to be gone by now. On the second day, you’d tried to suggest to the general that you could go up to the surface and see if an evacuation could be planned, but the general and other officers had all said that there was no need to evacuate, because there were plenty of supplies down here. They would continue to work on regaining communications with other bases, and nothing else immediately mattered until then.

Now, you were on your cot, staring at the ceiling above you. It was the middle of the night and just about everyone else was asleep. Most people slept on cots in what looked like an old gym, all lined up in long rows. Everyone had been given two changes of clothes, all gray jumpsuits. You felt like you were in prison.

The scratchy wool blanket was pulled up to your neck. You tried to imagine sharing the cot with Namjoon, the two of you squeezed onto the spot only meant for one and giggling when you just barely fit. You imagined him spooning you, kissing your neck and shoulder and holding you close to him. You imagined feeling his heartbeat in his chest. You imagined his face when his plane exploded.

It wasn’t fair. You’d literally just become something more than friends, maybe, kind of. Your relationship with Namjoon meant everything to you, and it had suddenly been changing in such amazing ways, and then he’d immediately been taken from you.

You refused to cry about this. You refused to even accept he was gone. There were ways he could’ve survived. There had to be. He could’ve flown low and ejected and hidden in the rubble of the city. Except he wasn’t a coward; you knew him, and you knew he was the type to win or die fighting. He could’ve led other survivors away from the city. Except there was no way these planes could’ve outrun the alien ships. They weren’t fast enough.

There had to be a way. You had to get up to the surface and find out. You had to find him.

VII.

After one week down in the bunker, you felt like you were going out of your mind.

You had a plan. You were going to go to the surface whether they let you or not. You were going to find Namjoon, or at least the remains of his plane. You were going to find him or find closure.

You needed climbing gear to get up the destroyed stairwell. You’d need to find rope and gear, a lot of water, and survival supplies. You began your plan, looking around for spare supplies nobody would notice was missing until you were gone. You knew where to find rope, but you had to figure out how to acquire and carry enough water. Plus you would need to bring medical supplies, in case Namjoon was injured. God, you could just imagine him, laying somewhere, bleeding out and barely conscious. You wondered if he’d thought of you, imagined you coming to save him.

You were seconds away from stealing rope from a supply closet when a short little man walked around the corner.

“Major?”

You froze in place. You weren’t in the room yet; you were innocent.

“Yes?” you said, smiling politely.

“The general wants to see you,” he said, and left without adding anything else.

Shit. How had they known? You hadn’t done anything yet, or told anyone or written anything down.

You made your way to the command center. Not much was going on there in the way of commanding anything, but it was where the higher ups — which now included you — met, and it was where they were attempting to reestablish communications with the outside world.

The room was busy with officers buzzing around. There were a lot of exposed wires hanging out of the walls. It looked like they were rebuilding a computer system circa 1970.

“Major,” the general said, motioning you over.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re the highest ranking field officer, so this goes to you first,” he said, handing you a manila folder. “We’ve established communication with a base a hundred and fifty miles from here, but only briefly. They said they have seven survivors from our base. They didn’t say who.” The general quickly added the last part when he saw your face light up at the mention of survivors.

You glanced down at the folder. Before you could speak, the general continued.

“We need someone — a pilot — to go up to the surface and see if any planes are still intact, and if so, fly to Walker Base. If there aren’t any planes left, we’ll probably have you try to find a car, or hike if you have to. We need to get our relay codes to that base, and once we do, we’ll have full communication with them again. You up for it?”

You looked up at the general, smiling.

VIII.

It took you about an hour to climb the staircase. Most of it was rubble and a lot of it involved throwing up a rope and securing it on something to climb the huge gaps where the stairs had fallen out, but you eventually got to the top, pushing aside debris to get yourself outside.

The base was gone. There was no way any planes survived this. Still, you walked out onto the strip, just in case.

Some of the piles of charred metal were still smoking. A few small fires were still going, most of them out in the lot, where jet fuel must still be feeding them. You tried to see if you could spot where your and Namjoon’s rooms used to be, but it was all just rubble, ash, and charred cinderblocks.

You walked down the landing strip, looking at the piles of scorched plane parts, blasted to nothing. Pieces of metal jutted up, a plane wing here, a part of engine there. Every pile you saw, you imagined seeing Namjoon’s body among them. You knew if he was dead, he wouldn’t be here, he’d be out in the city — but seeing all of the destroyed planes wasn’t helping.

You stopped in your tracks.

At the end of the landing strip, under a broken wing of a much larger plane, was the most beautiful F-15 Eagle you had ever seen.

You ran to it, climbing on it when you reached it and pushing aside the wing of the bigger plane until it clamored to the ground. You climbed into the cockpit, dropping your backpack with supplies and the relay codes into the little compartment, feeling nearly dizzy in euphoria. You prepped the jet for takeoff, everything going smoothly, and you imagined Namjoon’s face when you showed up at the base. He’d be so happy to see you, but so surprised, and when you told him that you got promoted to major–

You stopped for a moment, your smile falling as you stared blankly at your hands on the switches and dials.

You didn’t know if he was one of the survivors at the other base. You shouldn’t get your hopes up just to show up and find out he wasn’t one of the pilots who made it. For all you knew, you’d get there and one of the pilots from Namjoon’s squadron would tell you all about how he died.

You focused on the task in front of you. You were on a mission, first and foremost, to get the relay codes to the base. That was the important thing right now, not yourself or Namjoon.

You got the plane prepped and ready to go. The center of the runway was clear, since most of the planes had been gone.

F-15s were always your favorite.

IX.

You didn’t attract any alien attention while flying, thankfully. You got there in just over twenty minutes; around the fifteen minute mark, you slowed down and the base contacted you on your descent into their airspace. You had to identify yourself and state your intentions, but the base seemed completely willing to let anyone human land.

When you landed, a few people ran out and took care of your plane for you, as you were escorted inside. You handed over the relay codes and quickly asked if you could see the survivors from your base.

“Most of them were pretty shell-shocked when they got here, but they’re soldiers. They know how it is,” the officer escorting you said as the two of you walked. “How many survivors at your base?”

“Three hundred and forty-two,” you said flatly, staring straight in front of you as you walked. “We had four pilots including myself return, the rest were non-flight officers and civilians. No casualties on the ground, but the base was destroyed in an aerial attack shortly after we landed.”

“Yeah, we heard about that. That’s why we got your other pilots,” the guy said, motioning in front of him in the direction you were walking, assumedly at the surviving pilots. “They didn’t have anywhere to land and thought the base was gone, so they came here. All from different squadrons, but led by one captain.”

You perked up when you heard that. A captain had survived.

You really did try not to get your hopes up. Your base was huge; there were so many squadrons, only one captain surviving was not good news for Namjoon. Still, you were hopeful.

You were led to a barrack where a few pilots were sitting around together, all men looking bored out of their minds. You recognized Park from your training class, and a few others as well. You scanned their faces quickly, looking from person to person, desperately searching for him, frantic and anxious and despairing when you looked and didn’t see him–

“Y/N?” a voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

Namjoon had walked in behind you from the other direction; he looked like he’d just taken a shower, from the wet hair, clean clothes, and bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he stared at you in disbelief.

Neither of you even said anything. You were only about ten feet apart already, but you immediately met in the middle, desperately grabbing at each other, hugging tightly. Your legs were up around his waist and he held you to him as he kissed all over your face. The room was spinning or maybe Namjoon was just spinning you around, you didn’t care, you just held onto him and tried to kiss him, one hand in his hair and the other arm around his shoulder, trying to pull him closer.

As much as you wanted and tried to kiss him, Namjoon was just too much; it was like he was trying to kiss every last millimeter of your face at least twice. He was holding you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t even care. His skin, his hair, his mouth, his kisses were all the most amazing things you’d ever felt. You were pressed chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around each other, and you could almost feel his heartbeat pumping along with your own.

Namjoon stopped kissing you long enough to nuzzle against you, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek against yours, nearly animalistic.

“I missed you so much, my love,” he breathed. You swore his face was wet with tears, his cheek still pressed against your own. “I haven’t thought about anything other than you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you this whole time, I love you so much… god, fuck, when I thought I’d lost you…” He started kissing your cheek again desperately, his hand coming up to hold your other cheek and hold you in place.

“I missed you too,” you gasped, your voice small and high-pitched as you tried and failed to hold in your tears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he kept repeating, not even stopping speaking as he kissed you, so some of his words were muffled.

“I love you, too, Joon,” you managed to say before he kissed your mouth, tilting his head to kiss you so deeply it took your breath away.

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” somebody else in the room said then. “Do you guys want us to, like, leave or something?”

Namjoon stopped, catching his breath as you turned your head to look back at the six other pilots and the officer all awkwardly watching you.

“Uh, sorry,” you muttered, putting your feet back on the ground and turning around. Namjoon kept touching you, not taking his hands off you, even as you faced the others.

“I know you both outrank us, but get a room,” a different pilot laughed, his smile boxy and voice deep.

“You have a room, actually,” the officer that led you in said, perking up like that was his cue.

“We do?” Namjoon asked, confused. He stood behind you, hands on your hips, tall enough to see over your head.

“She does,” the officer gestured to you. “She’s a major. All superior officers class O4 and up get their own private room.”

“Major?” Namjoon said, tilting a little to look at your face. You smiled to yourself smugly.

“I can take you there now,” the officer said, motioning to the door behind him.

Namjoon stepped to the side and looked down at the ground shyly, glancing up at you and pouting. You wanted to roll your eyes; he actually thought you weren’t going to invite him to come with you.

“You too,” you said, holding out your hand for him.

Namjoon beamed, and quickly picked up his bag and jogged over to what must be his bed, grabbing the few belongings he had, and shuffled back over to your side, taking your hand and kissing you on the cheek before following along with you.

“Go get it, captain,” one of the pilots jeered at him, the others all snickering and wolf-whistling as Namjoon dropped your hand long enough to flip all the other pilots off while the officer led the two of you out and down the hallway.

As soon as the door was shut behind you in your room, the officer gone and the two of you alone, Namjoon dropped his belongings and picked you up again, your legs tight around him, the two of you kissing again. You felt your back against the cold metal of the old-fashioned blast door, one of Namjoon’s hands holding your face.

“How’d you get here?” he murmured against your neck after a moment, kissing your cheek between gasps. “They said the base was destroyed, no contact.”

“The attack happened right after I landed. Everyone got down in the bunker, no casualties on the ground,” you gasped, still a little short on breath. As you spoke, Namjoon kissed your neck, working his way up to your jaw. “They needed a pilot to bring relay codes here.”

“What’s this about you being a major now?” he said, smirking, his lips not leaving your cheek.

“Got an upgrade while you were gone,” you said, and then you gasped, laughing as Namjoon suddenly sucked your skin over your pulse on your neck, leaving behind a deep purple hickey.

“Well, Miss Major, that means you outrank me now,” he said, leaning back enough to smile at you, his expression a mix of mischievous and proud.

He stepped backward then, still supporting you with his arms, and walked back until he got to the bed, sitting down on it. He laid back, pulling you down on top of him gently, your mouths connected the whole way down.

He was the best thing you’d ever felt, his large, firm body contrasting his gentle touches and kisses. You couldn’t get close enough to him, but it was slow, lazy, loving, everything you’d ever wanted with him, his soft tongue in your mouth, his firm arms around you, his warm body under you.

You couldn’t get over how good he smelled. There was the soap he’d just used, but you’d known him and been close to him long enough to know his scent. He tasted so good too; he swirled his tongue with yours slowly, tracing lazy patterns on your tongue, kissing you so deeply your head spun. His hands rested on your back, his fingers spreading wider as he tried to touch more of you.

You parted for air as he rolled you both, holding your body to his with one hand as he pulled you up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as he gently laid you down. Even though you would’ve only fallen a few inches and the bed was soft, he set you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you with love and hearts in his eyes, not breaking eye contact as he gave you a small, warm smile.

His dark hair was mussed up a little from you running your fingers through it, and it looked fantastic on him. His face was flushed and his parted lips were red and a little swollen, and he looked like he’d been crying, or was about to cry, or both.

You pulled him down to you and kissed him again. He set his body against yours, lining himself up with you as you wrapped your legs around him. You were both still fully clothed, but you could feel him, pressed perfectly against you from your collars to his growing erection and your throbbing core.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, grinding slowly against you. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wanted to die when I thought something happened to you and I never told you. I promise I’m going to tell you now, every single day, every time I see you, every time we make love, every second of every day–” He cut himself off by kissing your neck desperately, moving down toward your breast.

“I love you, my angel. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, I love you so much,” he said, kissing along your skin frantically by the collar of your ugly flight jumpsuit. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing up the center of your chest toward your clavicle. His messy hair tickled your chin, and you rested one of your hands on the back of his head as he worked, gently stroking his hair.

“I love you too,” you managed to say, though words weren’t really coming to you right now, with all Namjoon was doing to you.

Namjoon got up then, and you watched for a moment as he started quickly stripping off his clothes. You sat up too, pulling off your jumpsuit, and Namjoon got all but his boxers off before your arms were even out. He helped you, running his hands along your skin as you peeled off the jumpsuit, leaving you in just the undershirt and shorts you’d had on underneath.

There was a moment where the two of you just sat there looking at each other. You’d both seen each other in this context — nearly naked — before, from sleeping in the same room to swimming to other random things you’d done together over the years, but this was the first time it was ever like this.

Namjoon raised his hands slowly, his fingers just barely skimming against your hips. His eyes were on your breasts, his mouth nearly watering, and you smiled at that. He looked up at you, his eyes innocent and showing every emotion he had within him; he was asking for permission.

You brought your hand up to his face and kissed him slowly, savoring every movement of his lips, the feel of his tongue, the taste of him. His hands went to your thighs and helped you wrap your legs around him, and then you were laying down again, Namjoon on top of you.

He kissed down your chest, this time simultaneously running one of his hands up your stomach under your thin undershirt. He cupped your breast with that hand, feeling you fully, while his mouth kissed back up to your neck. He got your undershirt off without either of you having to get up, though he did have to lean back a little to give you room to wiggle around, and then he unhooked your bra and threw that and your undershirt somewhere behind him.

Namjoon swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, gently squeezing your other breast with his hand, your peaked nipple hard against his palm. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger slowly while sucking the other, just barely using teeth and making you gasp, and then he switched sides, doing the same thing again.

“That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You stroked his hair while he worked, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. Every moment or so, you’d let out a moan for him, tightening your fingers in his hair whenever he did something that made you see stars, and he’d hum back to you, responding without taking his mouth off you.

Namjoon moved down your abdomen, kissing every rib, every freckle, every last inch of your skin. He dipped his tongue into your belly button and you gasped and giggled, feeling his grin against your skin as he kissed down your navel, his tongue tracing along the edge of the little shorts you still had on.

You reached down and tried to pull off your shorts, but Namjoon’s hands replaced your own, slowly pulling just your shorts off and leaving your panties. He tossed your shorts the same direction he’d tossed your bra, and then looked down at you, sitting back on his legs. Your legs were spread wide, your soaked panties the only thing covering you, your eyes desperate for him, your breasts rising and falling as your breath quickened in anticipation and need for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his expression almost dazed in love and adoration. He looked like he didn’t know where to look, his eyes scanning your face, your breasts, your spread thighs, the spot on your panties where you were already wet and soaking for him. You bit your lip and whimpered, and he closed his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Namjoon bent over and kissed your ankle, slowly, chastely. He moved to the other side and repeated that, kissing your anklebone. He moved up your calf, staying on that side, kissing you over and over and moving so slowly you started to whine for him, begging him to go faster and reaching down for him. He reached up and took one of your hands, holding it and lacing your fingers together as he continued what he was doing, not at all speeding up.

He kissed your knee, the side of it, the front of it, and tilting your leg gently to kiss the back of it. He moved up, kissing your inner thigh while still holding your hand. You spread your legs further for him, whimpering and squeezing his hand as he got closer and closer to your center.

Namjoon pulled back then, a smug smile on his face as he started moving down to kiss his way up your other leg, starting again at your ankle. You let out a whiney moan, pulling his hand and looking down at him, pleading.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he said gently, moving back to where you wanted him most.

He kissed you right over your panties, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that made you cry out. You could feel him breathing hard through his nose, smelling and inhaling you as he moved his mouth against you, letting go of your hand so he could hold your thighs with both his large, perfect hands.

He licked and sucked the fabric of your panties, tasting where you were soaked for him. It was the most amazing thing you’d ever felt, and you spread your legs even further for him, your hands holding onto the sheets of the bed, your knuckles turning white.

You gasped when you felt teeth, and then Namjoon was slowly pulling your panties down your legs with his mouth, looking up at you with playful eyes and a smirk. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead just closed your legs enough for him to get your panties off of you, letting him have his fun. He let out a small growl at you, your panties still in his mouth, and you giggled, a soft noise that made his eyes light up.

Before you could think or do anything, Namjoon was back between your legs, spreading you open with his fingers and licking a slow, thick line up your folds to your clit.

You cried out, your head falling back and eyes squeezing closed. Namjoon repeated the motion, even slower this time, moaning a little too as he let the tip of his tongue enter you for just a moment. You whined, pulling his hair hard and trying to spread your legs even further, and Namjoon stopped, humming softly as he turned his head and kissed your thigh.

“I love you so fucking much,” Namjoon murmured against your skin, kissing you there again. “Your pussy’s so pretty, my love. So soft and wet for me.”

“Joonie,” you sighed, stroking his hair. You could feel his smile against your thigh, and it made you smile, too. You felt warm, like you were glowing from his love.

Namjoon turned his head back and dipped his tongue into you again, this time further, like he was trying to see how far he could go. His lips sucked at your entrance as his tongue flicked in and out, not fast enough to get you off, but not slow, either. He moved his tongue like he was trying to drink you, lapping you up, bringing your wetness into his mouth and down his throat.

You moaned loudly for him, pulling his face harder against you by his hair, and he reached up and grabbed one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours over one of your thighs.

He moved his mouth up to your clit, drawing random shapes over it with the tip of his tongue lazily while he curled two fingers into you. He moved clumsily, like he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing but just wanted to make you feel good, and what he was doing was definitely working. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in eagerness and love, and when he moaned around your clit, and you nearly screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck. God, your mouth is… mmm, god, you’re so fucking good, that feels so good, Joonie, Joonie–” You cut yourself off with a long, agonized cry as Namjoon sucked your clit into his mouth hard, swirling his tongue around it as he suctioned his mouth and moved his fingers inside you faster. You repeated a chorus of nothing but his name between breathy moans as you held onto his hair with your free hand, your other hand squeezing his.

You gasped when you came, your whole body tensing as you saw stars and every nerve in your body exploded in pleasure. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you failed to breathe, your lungs tightening and your orgasm only building and building as Namjoon kept moving his tongue and fingers. You felt like you were floating in space, millions of stars around you all bursting at once, the entire universe stopping for you and Namjoon and the love you felt for each other.

After a moment, you took in a shaky breath, trying to recover while your mind was still mush. Namjoon was still moving his mouth on you, now licking up your wetness at your entrance and moaning to himself at the taste. If he kept that up, you were going to come again, and soon.

You moaned, pulling on his hair enough for him to look up at you, not stopping what his mouth was doing. You pleaded with your eyes, whimpering and pulling his hair again, and he put his lips to your entrance one last time, this time spreading his lips as wide as possible and sucking as he slowly closed his mouth. You gasped and almost screamed at the sensation of him actually drinking you, desperate to taste you.

Your second orgasm was smaller, making you shudder and gasp for just a moment before steadily breathing deeply as you tried to recover again. You looked down at him, barely able to lift your head; Namjoon was kissing your thigh, your hips, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he slowly worked his way up your stomach. You could see how hard he was, his precum glistening on the head of his cock as it bounced against his stomach with his movements.

You started to reach down to grasp him, but he gently stopped you, bringing your hand back up by your head and lacing his fingers with yours. He kissed your collarbone, leaving a trail of wet kiss spots all over your body, your own wetness in the shape of his lips and chin.

“Please, Joonie,” you hummed, and he came back to you, kissing your lips slowly and letting you taste yourself on him. You wrapped your legs around him tightly as he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, gasping when he started slowly sliding into you, every amazing inch of him filling and stretching you.

Namjoon buried his face in your neck, the length of his nose pressed against the curve of your jaw. He turned his head enough to kiss your neck, feeling your rapid, heavy pulse with his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your neck, not opening his eyes. “So fucking tight and wet for me, my angel, my princess, my heart, my love. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed your neck again gently before pushing all the way into you and bottoming out, the stretch so wonderfully tight and full. You cried out, spreading your legs further and higher for him, grabbing at his shoulders, scraping your fingernails down his back as he filled you up so completely.

Namjoon pulled out slowly and then pushed in again, rocking into you. You were desperate, nearly delirious and just about ready to cry if he didn’t start moving faster. He seemed to just barely be holding on by a thread, his own orgasm already one sudden movement away from overwhelming him.

“God, Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck,” you cried, close to actually in tears now. You started to say something else but it turned into a small whimper as he thrust into you again, hard.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, “I love you so much, Y/N…” Your name turned into a long moan as he began his slow, torturous pace, both of you so close to the edge already. You didn’t know how he was possibly going so slow still, other than the fact he must want to torture you.

“Go faster, please,” you cried out, holding onto his shoulders as tight as you could and digging in your fingernails. “I need you so bad, Joonie. God, fuck me, please…”

“I love you, angel,” he said, kissing your shoulder. He picked up the pace a little, but it wasn’t enough. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. I love you, I love you–”

“Go fucking faster, now, please…” you sobbed, pulling his hair, making him hiss in pain, but he listened, reaching down and holding your hip with one hand as he started pounding into you, the force of it making the bed creak and your breasts bounce with each quick, powerful thrust. You were long past gone, moaning loudly with each exhale, and Namjoon groaned and grunted, his head against your shoulder as the two of you moved together, you rolling your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

Namjoon broke first. His orgasm hit him suddenly and he tried to keep moving, his thrusts sloppy, erratic, and uneven as he spilled into you, his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. He let out a long groan until he ran out of air, and then he didn’t inhale again until he finished, suddenly and harshly gasping in again, his whole body shaking in your arms.

He reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, and you only lasted a few seconds before you gasped too, clenching around his still half-hard erection inside you, which only made him groan in overstimulation as you squeezed and spasmed around him, gasping nothing but his name and feeling nothing but him, your love, your Namjoon.

Namjoon somehow managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. He moved to the side enough to fall beside you, one of his legs still between your thighs as he laid on his stomach, slightly turned in toward you. His hand moved up to cup and stroke your cheek as he lazily kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too, Joonie,” you said between shaky breaths, your vision almost blurry from lust and exhaustion and a dumb happy smile on your face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

X.

You laid there for a little while together before you eventually went another round, this time as slow as Namjoon had wanted to go the first time.

When you came this time, your orgasm had to have lasted at least five full minutes (or at least, it felt like that) as Namjoon kept moving in and out of you, keeping up his steady, slow, overwhelming movements that left you delirious with his cock inside you, his thumb on your clit, and his lips on yours, breathing in every moan of his name.

After you both laid there a while again, lazy in post coital haze, you eventually got up and went to your room’s personal little bathroom, where you turned on the tiny shower and let it warm up. You stood there feeling the water’s temperature with your hand while Namjoon stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and lips on your neck. It was like he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without saying “I love you,” not that you were complaining.

You showered together, Namjoon standing behind you the whole time and washing your body for you. He massaged your breasts, hands sudsy as the warm water fell down over them as he kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. One of his hands fell down to your folds, stroking you slowly as his other hand moved to your breast, arm wrapping around you so that his forearm could also press against your nipple, stimulating and touching both of your breasts at once.

Namjoon slid two fingers into you as he kissed your temple. You could feel him hard against your ass, and that feeling made your eyes flutter.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you, pleasing you, making love to you,” he murmured into your hair. You responded with an agonized moan, reaching back and holding onto his shoulder for support. “I’ve wanted you like this since we first met. I dreamed about eating your perfect little pussy so many times, doing exactly this to you, feeling you squeeze my cock like you did earlier when you came so prettily. You’re better than anything I ever could’ve imagined though, baby. Your pussy tastes like heaven and feels even better. You’re so fucking perfect, princess, I love you so much, more than my heart can bare.”

You felt like he had to be bending you over slightly, his firm chest against your back. You swore you could actually feel his cock throbbing.

“I need you,” you moaned, your eyes closed as you felt nothing but his hands.

“I’m here,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I’m here, angel. I love you.”

“Need you inside me,” you said, spreading your legs to stand with your feet braced wider apart. “I love you, too, Joonie. Please…”

Namjoon didn’t need to be told twice. Hooking his arm around your waist for support, he bent you both over a little more, sliding into you from behind in one smooth motion. You cried out in ecstasy, he felt so good and big and yours.

It was fast and sloppy; he hugged you against him with both arms while you braced yourself on the tile wall in front of you. The sound of skin smacking against wet skin, his hips hitting your ass coupled with both your quiet moans and the wet squelching of him moving hard and fast inside you, echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water. He filled you so perfectly, stretched you out so far, you felt like he was fucking up into your guts, so hard and deep and good.

You came at the same time, Namjoon groaning and squeezing you harder as your eyes rolled back in your head.

When you’d both recovered some, you stood there under the water, still in the same position. You both knew base rules about wasting water, so you needed to wrap this up, but neither of you wanted to move.

You eventually got out and dried off, both of you getting ready for bed with the toiletries provided by the base. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the whole time though, so the whole process probably took three times longer than it should’ve.

When you both finished, he pulled you to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed you, his hands spreading out on your bare back. Namjoon’s tongue slowly swirled with yours as he let out a small, contented hum, and he wrapped your legs up around his body, supporting you with one hand on your back and the other on your thigh.

Namjoon walked to your bed, carrying you, and laid down with you on top of him. You didn’t end up going another round, but you kissed for a while until eventually you started to move off of him to sleep beside him. Namjoon, though, held you there on top of him, keeping you there.

He murmured a soft little “please,” stroking your back gently, begging you to stay where you were on top of him. You laid back down and kissed right over his heart, before turning your head and resting your cheek on his chest, nuzzling in against him to sleep as he pulled the sheets up around you both.

You were safe in his arms. The world around you didn’t matter; not the people down the hall, not anything outside the base, none of it. The whole universe was just you and Namjoon in this bed, and nothing else existed. He was yours, and you were his.

[joyfulholland]

The Peace Treaty - Mob!Tom

....when your father orders you to make peace with Tom Holland, heir to the other crime family, you find working together is not as horrendous as you once thought.....

a/n: enemies to lovers with mob!Tom...this was a labour of love but I really like how this turned out and I hope you do too! i was largely inspired by all of my insanely talented friend Hannah’s (@duskholland​) mob!Tom writing, which is an absolute must read for anyone and everyone! please let me know what you think! this was nearly a smut but I changed my mind so if anyone would be interested in a part 2 please send me a message!

warnings: swearing, lots of mentions of violence, some mentions of blood/injuries

word count: 6.1k

All weddings have a little drama somewhere, but you thought having to throw a knife to stop the unwanted guest escaping was a tad excessive.

Luckily, the majority of the wedding party and guests were out in the gardens, so it was only a select few who had seen you interrupt the man’s swift exit. You smirked in triumph as he turned back to face you, his posture having slumped realising that not only was he cornered, but severely outnumbered. Smoothing out the cobalt silk that was your bridesmaid dress, you took one step forward, before pausing at the cough from the man beside you.

Tom wordlessly flipped the pistol he was holding so that you could easily take it from him. His actions caused you to raise an eyebrow, and he smirked as he revealed the second handgun tucked into his waistband.

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to carry in that dress.” He grinned, eyes scanning your figure as you took the weapon from him. “Figured I better bring a spare so you wouldn’t have to miss out on the action.”

“Thank you.” You didn’t hide the surprise in your tone, still not used to his friendly attitude. Gesturing at the man still in the doorway, whose eyes were darting between you both, and the four other men behind you, you returned to the task at hand. “Shall we?”

“After you darling.”

~one week earlier~

“You can’t be serious Dad.”

Your father rolled his eyes from where he was seated across from you in front of the fire, the sound of laughter and music drifting under the door to his study from the party going on outside. Taking another sip of his whisky, he sighed at the incredulous look still plastered on your face.

“It’s time you made peace with him. I’m getting old, it’ll be your turn to run things soon, and we’d like to retire knowing the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats and throwing everything we built away. Besides, your sister’s wedding is almost here, and I want it to run smoothly.”

Sinking back into your chair, you let out a frustrated sigh before raising your own drink to your lips. Growing up as the eldest daughter of one of the two biggest crime families in London, you’d been raised preparing for the day it would be your turn to take on the “family business”, and you had relished in the prospect. The only issue you had taken to the entire affair, one which it seemed your father was now determined to resolve, was the heir to the other notorious family with whom you shared your work: Tom Holland.

One year older than you, the rivalry between you had started young. Both determined to prove you would one day be capable heads of your respective families, you’d attempted to one up each other at every opportunity available. Where he had excelled in marksmanship, your skill with a knife was incomparable to anyone else. When he began working for his father full time, you had begged your own to let you do the same, pleading that the fact he was older irrelevant. His specialty was smuggling, so you made disposal yours. The two of you even had a private scoreboard of times your activities had namelessly been displayed on the news, bragging that you were more successful at getting away with it than the other.

“Just shag him already.” Your younger sister, Isabelle, had groaned not a month before, as you’d finished regaling her with your recent triumph over him. “You’ve both been madly in love since you were about two years old.”

You’d almost spat your wine at her, the statement causing you off guard. Whilst it was no secret that Tom had suddenly become incredibly attractive over the course of a summer away when he was seventeen, you had made that fact irrelevant as your feelings towards him held nothing but contempt.

“I’m not in love with him.” Your words had come out as defiant, but it had only caused her to snort into her own drink. “Belle, he’s an arrogant, selfish arsehole who has done nothing but show as much hate towards me as I have to him since we were old enough to throw building blocks at each other.”

“I think you meant passion, not hate, but whatever.” She rolled her eyes, knowing when to drop a subject. “But it would be better for us all if you got along at least, and so help me God if the sexual tension between the two of you ruins my wedding I’ll murder you, heir to the firm or not.”

Which led you back to sitting across from your father, who had just informed you that he’d agreed with Tom’s father Dominic that the two of them were to hold ‘peace treaty’ talks between you.

“Did Belle put you up to this?” You asked suspiciously, eyes flashing to the door where you knew she would be holding court as the host of the wedding shower.

“She and your mother may have suggested it.”

“So she snitched to the both of you.”

“Actually, I think it was your mother’s idea first, she’s been speaking about it for a while.”

The smile on his face let you know you were defeated. It seemed they had all colluded together to force you into the ceasefire of your battle with Tom, and there was no way to escape it. Letting out another disgruntled sigh, you finished the remainder of your drink before rising from the chair.

“I assume he’s here.” The tone of your voice made your father let out a bark of laughter, and you knew you sounded like a child who had just been reprimanded. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Not waiting for an answer, you crossed the room and re-joined the party that your father had pulled you from, rearranging your face into a fake smile as you passed guests in various states of enjoyment on your way to the main reception area in your family estate. You’d barely stepped over the threshold of the doorway when his voice rang clearly above the music.

“Well, if it isn’t my new best friend.”

Turning to face him, you saw Tom push up from where he was leaning against the wall. Your eyes quickly scanned his body, noting the near-empty glass held loosely between two ring-clad fingers. His black suit jacket fitted him perfectly over a crisp white shirt, which had the top three buttons undone to reveal a thin gold chain around his neck. He was flanked on either side by his two most loyal friends, Harrison and Tuwaine, both of whom offered you a smile. Whilst the rivalry between yourself and Tom was strong, neither of you had ever taken any issue to those in both of your inner circles.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s had the play nice speech.” Skipping any greetings, you return the other men’s smiles before focusing on Tom. He gives a short chuckle at your words before raising his glass to his lips and finishing the remainder of his drink. “For the record, I have no intentions of becoming friends.”

“I’m wounded darling.” Tom’s still wearing an obnoxious smirk as a server comes to offer you a glass of champagne, taking away his empty glass in the process. “I thought we could make a a good team, make everyone even happier.”

“In your dreams, Holland.” You know he’s just baiting you, but with the prospect of at least a couple more hours of party ahead of you, your patience for him was limited. “We can be civil at events and make an effort in any deals. But that’s it. We are not, and never will be a team.”

Not giving him time to answer, you swiftly turned on your heels and entered further into the crowd of people celebrating your sister’s upcoming nuptials, determined not to let him ruin this night for you anymore, and not to think about him until the next time you saw him.

Which, it turned out, would be sooner than you had hoped.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning, you had retreated back to your own apartment.

Having cited ‘business’ as your reason, you knew that your family had seen into your lie, and that you wanted to be able to sulk in peace. You’d promised, under threats of bodily harm, to return two days before the wedding, giving you a good four days to get your bad mood out of the way.

The alone time only lasted fifteen hours.

It was drawing close to two a.m. when the banging on your door disturbed you. You hadn’t fallen asleep yet, having been going over some files at your desk, but the loud beating had startled you, and was unexpected enough for you to grab your gun from your bottom draw before approaching the source. Checking the spy hole, a string of curses left your mouth as you unchained and unlocked the door.

Tom fell through the threshold, his brown curls dishevelled, and his knuckles bruised. A thin trail of blood trickled down the side of his face from a slash above his left eyebrow, and a dark patch pooling on his shoulder alluded to there being another injury beneath his shirt. Quickly shutting the door behind him and relocking it, you spun to glare at the man who was now propping himself up against the wall of your hall.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him, taking another survey of his injuries, and noting the yellowing skin under his eye that had a blue tinge. He had never been to your apartment before, but it didn’t shock you that he knew the address, especially as you knew his. Instead, you chose to ask the next most prominent question. “Have you been stabbed or shot?”

“I was close by, needed to tell you something.” He ignores your question, so you move past him to get to your bathroom, noting the wince he tried to hide as he moved to follow. Gingerly sitting on the edge of your bathtub, he watches as you grab a first aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch you bleed.” You roll your eyes at him as you turn to face him, gesturing towards his shirt as a hint for him to remove it. He does so slowly, grimacing as he tries not to move his shoulder. You can’t help but take a sharp gasp when you see the gash running over the top of his skin, clear that a bullet had skimmed past him and not quite missed. Tom sends you a weak smile as you turn back to grab something to clean the wound. “What were you so desperate to tell me anyway? You could have just called.”

“Like you’d have answered.” Tom jokes as you step forward to begin patching him up, a hiss falling through his lips as you make contact with his injury. “You’ve made it clear that you only want to speak to me on a need-to-know basis, and this was urgent. That’s going to need stitches isn’t it? Just try and stem the bleeding until I get home, Haz is pretty decent at sewing me up.”

Your eyes flashed to meet his for a brief second before returning to his shoulder, nodding at his question. You couldn’t deny that you probably would have rejected his call and had nothing else to say to him in response. Grabbing some gauze, you start to tightly pad over the wound, waiting for him to continue.

“I ran into Jason.” His words promptly stop your actions, and your eyes connect again. Jason Boule was the son of another crime family, one whom which neither your father or Tom’s had gotten ever along with, and one who had been attempting to sabotage both of your businesses for years. “I think they’re trying to get someone into the wedding.”

“What did he say?” You ask, finishing with his shoulder before grabbing something to start cleaning up his face. “And what did you say to make him shoot at you?”

“Asked me to pass on congratulations to the happy couple, claimed he was disappointed he hadn’t received an invite, that he was sure it was going to be a day to remember.” Tom spoke the last few words with gritted teeth as you wiped over the cut along his face. “Then he…I may have said something about how vermin weren’t usually invited to weddings, which is about when he shot at me.”

“You missed something out in the middle.” You smirked as it was Tom’s turn to roll his eyes, having not missed the way he’d changed his mind mid-sentence, passing him an instant-cool pack from your kit. “Hold that on your eye.”

“Thanks.” He muttered, doing as you told him. You waited expectantly, and he groaned before carrying on. “He may have said some shit about you in the middle, which I may have punched him for, but that wasn’t important to the alluding to sending someone to the wedding point.”

“You punched him for bad-mouthing me?”

“Well, yeah. Just because I give you shit for not being as good as me, doesn’t give him any right to. Especially not what he said, which I won’t repeat for the fact it was disgusting.”

Eyes once again locked on his, you found yourself lost for words. Tom had tried to joke it off, but the idea of him defending you, in any situation, felt like a foreign concept. Dropping your gaze down, you sucked in a breath at the realisation of the intimate situation the two of you were in: you, standing between his legs as he sat, shirtless, with only centimetres separating the two of you. As you raised your eyes slowly back to his, you found Tom’s gaze still fixed firmly on your face. A moment passed, and for a brief second you found yourself leaning closer, until a loud buzzing signalled Tom’s phone ringing in his pocket. Snapping yourself out of it, you took a step back, eyes returning to his and forcing your face to remain neutral as he glanced at his screen and sighed.

“You should get home, get your shoulder looked at properly.” Your words shattered the tension that had surrounded you both momentarily, and Tom coughed before nodding and reaching for his discarded shirt. “Thank you, Tom, for coming to tell me.”

“All part of the peace treaty.” His smile looked forced as he pulled his shirt back on and stood, passing you back the ice pack and making his way to leave your apartment. “You wanna tell your Dad-“

“No.” You cut him off quickly, running a hand through your hair as you think through the situation. “I… this wedding is important, and I don’t want him worrying. We can sort it right?”

“OK.” He nods, his usual smirk returning. “You’ll actually have to answer my calls though.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m sure I can manage.” You roll your eyes at him, and Tom chuckles with a nod before going to unlock your door. “I’ll speak to some of my guys in the morning.”

“And you said we couldn’t be a team.”

“Go home Holland.” You sigh, gently pushing him out of your apartment. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Counting down the hours darling.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next few days were filled with flurries of phone calls between yourself and Tom, some more pleasant than others. Almost all of the calls were logistical; how many people the two of you planned on telling, whether or not to station someone at the exits. In an attempt to remain focused, you tried to keep your tone formal and business like, not deviating from the matter at hand.

The problem was Tom had other plans.

You’d be halfway through discussing exit routes when he’d suddenly ask your opinion on his suit for the wedding, or you’d be texting him floor plans and he would send back a picture of options for his shoes. And then of course, once or twice, the two of you would disagree about something and end up fighting, with one of you hanging up on the other before calling back almost immediately because it really wasn’t an issue you had time to ignore. Trying to balance getting along after so many years of competition, in addition to doing everything you could to ignore the moment that had transpired between you the night in your bathroom, as well as calls from your sister about last minute wedding worries was giving you a permanent migraine.

The day before the wedding, he called you just as you were finishing dinner with your family.

“Now’s really not the time.” You murmured, skipping any formal greeting as you stepped into the empty hallway. “I’ve just-“

“Come outside.” He cut you off, tone matching yours. “Got something you’ll wanna see.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, the line cut off, leaving you no choice but to follow his orders. Stepping into the snug, where everyone had retired to after finishing, you flashed an apologetic smile.

“I’ve just got to step out for a bit.” You told them, earning an eye roll from your mother and a curious look from your father. You shook your head slightly, reassuring him not to worry. “Won’t be too long.”

“If you’re not back when I go to bed I will kill you.” Isabelle sighed, head tilting back over the sofa from where she was seated in front of you. “Promise me you’ll stop and say good night.”

“Promise.” You mutter, dipping forward to kiss her forehead before retreating from the room. Hurrying down the hallway, you slipped out of the large front doors to see the outline of Tom leaning against his car, parked close to the doors of your garage. Crossing the gravel, the cool evening breeze made you shiver as you walked the dark to meet him, the hem of your dress grazing against your thighs. Getting close enough to make out his features, you called out to him. “Roddy let you in the gate?”

“Told him I had a meeting with you, he let me in no questions asked.” He hummed; body still angled from where he was leaning on the hood of his jaguar. “Figured you must have told him something.”

“Warned him we could have an unexpected visitor tomorrow so to not question you if you turned up.” You affirmed, crossing your arms around you in an attempt to keep warm. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

Tom’s eyes dropped to your arms and smirked, before pushing off his car and opening the door, tilting his head at it as a signal to get in. You did so wordlessly, sighing in content as he shut the door behind you and the heat of his car engulfed you. The car smelled more like Tom’s aftershave than any air freshener, which only strengthened when Tom had slipped into the driver’s seat moments later. As he reached across you to open the glove box, you held your breath as his arm, exposed from where he’d rolled up his sleeves, grazed your body, mind still determined to rid yourself of any minor attraction to him. Tom pulled out a large envelope, fingers brushing yours as he gave it to you before settling back into his own seat. Sliding out the contents, you found printed emails containing directions to your father’s study, as well as photographs of your family estate, and the name of a company which you were in the middle of a business deal with.

“May or may not have hacked into Boule’s emails.” Tom explained before you could ask, your eyes lifting from the papers in front of you to meet his. “I know we didn’t agree on that, but Paddy is becoming one hell of a whiz kid at it, so asked him to see if he could find anything.”

Smiling at the mention of Tom’s youngest brother, you returned your attention to the documents, speed reading through them as Tom waited for you to reply. Noticing the names on the email addresses, your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You aren’t kidding about Paddy.” The surprise in your tone made Tom chuckle, and you lifted your gaze back to him. “These were coded, weren’t they?”

“Told you, kids got skills. Think we’re pretty lucky he’s already one of the family, or we’d all be fighting over him.”

“Well at least now we know what Jason’s coming after.”

“And that he’s only sending one guy. We’ll barely have anything to do.”

You chuckled softly at his words, leaning back against the chair and letting your gaze wander over the darkened landscape of your estate. You could only just make out the large marquee that had been erected for the wedding, most of it obscured by the dark as well as part of the house.

“Think we could have always worked together like this?” Tom’s words startle you, and you tilt your head to the side to find him mirroring your position. “You know, if you could have just admitted I was better when we were kids, then it would have been fine.”

You let out a short laugh, watching his lips pull into a grin at the sound. Seeing how smug he was, an idea flashed into your head. Before Tom could realise what was happening, you pushed yourself off your chair and swung your legs to straddle over his, pulling the small knife you had tucked into your belt free to press loosely against his neck.

“What was that about being better than me?” You asked, grinning as his expression changed from one of shock to frustration, his eyes rolling as he raised one hand to push gently at your hip. “You’re getting slow, Holland.”

“Doesn’t count.” He protested, eyes following your hand as you flipped the small blade back into the safety of its holder. “You’ve pulled bigger knives on me than that. Anyway, that wasn’t fair, I’m unarmed.”

“So I wouldn’t find your gun in the armrest box beside us?” You tease, settling back on Tom’s thighs and opening up the compartment to prove your point. “Oh, look, I was right.”

“You’re acting like you know more about me than I do you, but I’m well aware that you have another knife strapped on you, so this works both ways.”

“How do you know I have two?”

“Because you’ve been carrying two knives since you were seventeen after that job we had to do together that almost went wrong, and you only had one.”

“You remember that?”

“Course I do, you stole my car keys and refused to let me drive myself home.”

“Because you’d been shot.”

“I was barely bleeding.”

“That’s because the bullet was still stuck in your ribcage. Just because I hated you didn’t mean I wanted you to die. Besides, I was right. You passed out barely five minutes later.”

“You hated me?”

“Back then? Immensely.”

“And now?”

You hadn’t realised that you’d been getting closer to him, but as Tom asked his question, you felt his breath fan across your face. He’d sat up straighter, his hands sliding up to sit on your waist, whilst yours sat at the base of his chest, your eyes level and lips centimetres apart. Up close, you could see the mark left behind above his eyebrow from the fight a few nights prior, and the yellow tint below his eye where his bruising hadn’t fully healed. Tom’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he waited for you to answer, his thumbs dragging slow circles against your sides.

“Maybe a little less.”

You were sure your words had been inaudible, but Tom somehow seemed to hear them, and he smiled before lifting one of his hands to cup your neck and bring your head forward to close the gap between you. His lips brushed over yours tentatively as your eyes fluttered closed, both of you still hesitant in this unchartered territory. As his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, you emitted a soft sigh, hands tightening around the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.

Doing so changed the mood from hesitation to excitement, and Tom tightened the grip on your neck as the kiss deepened. His other hand, which had still been sitting on your waist, slowly moved down and dipped below your dress until it was holding the back of your thigh. Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, Tom used his hold on your head to angle it, his lips trailing steadily along your jaw.

“If you leave any marks I’ll stab you.” Your threat was undermined by the moan that immediately followed it, as Tom found the spot by your ear, and you felt him grin against your skin before he pressed a final kiss to you and pulled back to meet your gaze. “I mean it, I’m not walking down the aisle behind my sister covered in hickies. It’ll be your funeral instead.”

“I love it when you threaten to kill me.” He smirks, darting forward to capture your lips once more. Pushing him lightly, he groaned as he fell back against his chair, the hand on your neck falling to his side. “Alright, alright. You don’t need to worry darling, because as much as I want to, the first time I fuck you isn’t going to be in my car.”

“The first time?” You push back from him, raising an eyebrow as he smirked. Tom simply hummed at your question, the hand on your neck dropping to grab both of yours. You waited for him to respond, only growing annoyed as he did nothing but smirk at you. Losing your patience with him, you wrench your hands free to lean across and open the car door. “You’re so infuriating, that’s why we never worked as a team. Your ego.”

“Definitely nothing to do with your temper either.” You weren’t looking at his face as you climbed out of the car, but you could practically hear him roll his eyes. Smoothing out your dress as the cool, evening breeze engulfed you once more, you turned to head back to the house, before he called out behind you. “You’re welcome, by the way. For the information.”

“Thanks!” You shout back, not turning your head as you continue back to the house. Tom’s laugh carries across the driveway, followed by the sound of his car door closing. Reaching the front door, you look back as you step back inside, watching as his engine purred to life before gliding back towards the gates. Quietly closing the door, you begin making your way to your room, noticing that most of your family had already made their way to bed. Stopping at the door before yours, you knock softly before hearing a muffled come in, cracking open the door to smile at your sister. “Just wanted to know if I’m being killed or not?”

“I’ll let you off.” Isabelle rolled her eyes from where she was laying in her bed but grinned back as you leant against the door frame. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“You’d tell me if there was something, right?”

“Absolutely.” You lied, pushing off the wall to cross the room and press a kiss to her cheek. “Now get some beauty sleep, or Adam won’t want to marry you.”

“Like you’d let him back out.” Belle joked, referring to how her husband-to-be worked for the family business. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You hummed back, before leaving the room and entering your own. Flipping on the light, you sighed before preparing for bed, thinking of what was to come in the next twenty-four hours.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“After you darling.”

Your eyes returned to the intruder cornered by the door, thinking over how you’d ended up here. The wedding itself had gone without a hitch; your sister and her now husband had exchanged rings and vows in front of everyone without any noticeable hiccups. You’d spotted Tom as you’d led the bridesmaids down the aisle and had determinedly kept your gaze away from him throughout the ceremony, only exchanging a curt nod as you’d left to take part in the official photo’s, trusting him to keep an eye. It was the only contact you’d had with him until you spotted what you’d been waiting all day to see, Freddie, one of your men, signalling you from across the reception party. Politely excusing yourself from the conversation you were in, you had wordlessly tapped Tom’s arm on your way back to your family house, hearing him do the same before following with Harrison and Tuwaine behind him. With the advanced knowledge you had gained from Paddy’s hacking abilities, the two of you, each flanked by two of your men, had found and cornered the intruder before he’d made it farther than the entry hall.

“I know Boule sent you, and why he sent you, and given the occasion, I don’t have time or patience to waste on your excuses.” You sighed, stopping in front as Freddie and Ralph moved to stand either side of him. Toying with the gun you now held, you watched as his eyes darted between the weapon and your face. “So you’re going to swiftly leave, and run and tell him nice try, but maybe next time. Because if you try anything else, the next knife I throw won’t miss.”

He hadn’t got a chance to respond before Freddie and Ralph had taken him by both arms, nodding at you before escorting him out of the building. You watched them go, as Tom followed suit. For a second, you thought he was leaving too, before he stopped to retrieve the knife you had thrown earlier, still lodged in the door. Wordlessly returning to you, he held the blade out for you to take, and you offered him a tight smile as you swapped it for the gun he had offered you earlier.

“Not that you need it,” Tom joked as you returned the knife to the strap on your inner thigh. Your eyes found his in surprise, watching as he replaced both of the guns he now held in his waistband. “What with you having two and all.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, before spinning on your heel to face his two friends. “We should get back.”

“She can’t possibly have two knives on her?” Harrison hissed to Tom, the three men a few paces behind you as you made your way back to the garden.

“Oh, trust me, she can.”

“Where?”

Smiling to yourself as the fresh air engulfed you once more, you re-entered the marquee to see no change to the scene from when you had left it: some people dancing, some milling around speaking and laughing, others still finishing their food at various tables. Eyes scanning the guests around you, they landed on the bride herself striding across the room determinedly in your direction.

“You lied to me.” She accused, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to the dancefloor. Isabelle released her grip on you as the music changed to a slower song, wrapping instead wrapping them around you to sway slowly to the music. “You said that everything was fine, and then you sneak off to stop one of Boule’s men breaking into Dad’s study.”

“How the hell did you find out?” The smile was still on your face as the two of you spun in a small circle, mainly because despite her tone, she was still beaming herself. “I didn’t even tell Dad.”

“Roddy told me.” Her tone was smug as her eyes wandered from your face to look around the tent. “After I watched you leave that is. You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own sister leave my wedding?”

“Well, I hoped the wedding thing might cause some distraction.”

“Fat chance.” She snorted, eyes returning to yours. “I’ve got a particular skill set that comes in handy. Don’t think I didn’t see Tom follow.”

“He was the one who found out about it originally.” Your tone changed as you thought over what had transpired between you. “You know he brought an extra gun because he knew I wouldn’t be able to have on today?”

“The fact that it surprises you is hilarious.” She laughs, stepping back from you and unwrapping her arms, only to link her fingers through yours instead. “You know that he’s-“

“Don’t say it.”

“Fine. I’ll let him tell you.”

“What-“

“Mind if I cut in?” You whipped your head to find Tom behind you, watching as he sent a winning smile to your sister. “Congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks Tom, she’s all yours.” Belle grinned back, pulling you in to kiss your cheek, before muttering in your ear, “You’ll thank me eventually.”

Releasing you completely, you watched as she passed Tom with another smile, walking straight into her new husband’s outstretched arms. Your gaze returned to the man in front of you, watching cautiously as he held out his hand.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, seeing your hesitation. “Think about how happy our father’s will be to see their peace treaty working.”

Rolling your eyes, you placed your hand in his and allow him to pull you closer, your other hand rising up to rest on his shoulder.

“You stormed away last night before I could explain myself.” His voice was low in your ear as he began to move the two of you in time with the music. “Never have been a fan of letting me have the last word.”

“If this is an apology it sucks so far.” You reply, your tone light as you try not to focus on the warmth of his hand on your waist.

“I’m not going to apologise, it wasn’t the right moment.”

“You said that like you’ve been planning it.”

“Only every day since you stole my car keys.”

“Now I know you’re taking the piss.”

Pulling back to meet his gaze, you found nothing but sincerity as he took a breath to explain.

“You got the money we went there for whilst simultaneously holding three men twice your size at gunpoint, and then got us both out of there despite the fact I’d been shot. Then you took my keys and yelled at me whilst taking me home until I passed out.” The look on his face now was nothing like you had ever seen, his eyes searching yours as he continued. “Darling, as much as I really do enjoy the way you look when you’re mad at me, the main reason I’ve been antagonising you more and more the past few years was so I actually have a chance to spend time with you. Now if I’m making a complete twat of myself, say the word and we can continue the way we are and forget I ever said a word of this.”

“Tom-“

“You know you only ever call me that when I’ve been shot.” He mutters, a hint of his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Should I be worried?”

“You know I was already reluctant to admit that I might feel the same way, and now I’m going to take it back...”

Your words died on your lips as he silenced you with his own, dropping your hand to cradle your face as he kissed you softly. You could feel him grinning against you before he pulled back, thumb dragging softly against the skin of your cheek.

“This doesn’t mean I’m going easy on you now, you know.” You mutter, unable to stop your own smile taking over. “I mean, if you think that just because we’re together I’d start letting you-”

“Letting me?” Tom’s bark of laughter inspired your smile to grow even more, the incredulous look in his eyes quickly morphing into his trademark smirk. “I’m sorry, who was it who discovered Boule’s plans for today?”

“Only because you got into a fight over me. Admit it Holland, I’m your weakness. It’s not my fault you’re so in awe of my talents.”

“If I kiss you again, will you stop being so competitive?”

“Depends, maybe you should it try and find out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

did you like it? did you hate it? let me know either way as well as anything else you want to see me write!

tagging some lovely people: @gonzalezyon @nowayhomeparker @sinisterspidey​ 

[luciferloveschloe]

goodbye, lucifer (but not really!)

I cannot BELIEVE that I just watched the last episode of my favourite show.

I usually cram everything I have to in tags under gifsets I reblog, but for this final season I'll go through the pain of actually writing shit down. I'll try to keep it short, and I'll try not to ramble. (Edit: Did not accomplish that.)

what i loved

SCREAMS

God, soooooooo much!!

Deckerstar baby

Okay, so when Rory showed up in the trailer I was like "Ugh, another annoying angel? Meh." FORGIVE ME, my sweet murder child! Of all the things I thought they might do, a Deckerstar baby was DEAD LAST on my list. And a daughter no less, I just... When she says she's Lucifer's daughter, I was like *SCREAMS*, but when we learn she's Lucifer AND Chloe's daughter, I completely lost it. My boyfriend's on a trip with his friends this week and I'm sooo grateful for that, I made the weirdest, loudest, ugliest noises while watching this season, I ran around our apartment like a maniac, I squealed and laughed and cried and just generally lost my mind. But when she says that?? Oh my God. Also the way Lucifer reacted when Chloe shows him the pregnancy test? Straight outta fanfic.

Lucifer being a father

Oh my God?? I've always said he'd be the BEST father, and actually seeing it on screen... I love the parallel of him being ridiculously over the top with Rory at first, just like God and Lucifer in S5. The way he looks at her when he sees her playing the guitar? Their duet?? Instantly one of my favourite scenes. Them driving in the Corvette, their last day together, how he keeps her from killing Le Mec? Just murder me.

Established Deckerstar

All the hugs and kisses?? The declarations of love, the besotted looks, the absolute power couple we got? Their look from Maze and Eve's wedding, OH MY GOD???? Just, these two are so pretty and we got SO MUCH. Also, their scenes with Rory?? I just love them so much...

(More under the cut!)

Ella's storyline

I wanted a reveal for her so badly, and the way it turned out was brilliant! I loved her figuring it out for herself and calling everyone out lmao. I especially loved poor Carol returning to that room full of shocked people. They had some GREAT punchlines and gags this season, absolutely hilarious! I also love Lucifer's parting gift for her and that she finally found a good one with Carol.

Hugs, so many hugs!

That's it, that's the paragraph.

The Police storyline

As a white person who has literally never once had a problem with the police, I know this is not my place to say, but I think they did a good job? Not giving into the "a few bad apples" excuse but acknowledging that the whole system needs to change? I also really enjoyed the scenes with Amenadiel and Officer Harris, showing what policework could and should look like.

Maze and Eve's happily ever after

I'm so glad auntie Maze and auntie Eve got their happy ending! And that wedding was a bomb. Also, "You're my hell!", lmao.

Dan's ascend to heaven

First of, great to know his only torture was Belios' lack of table tennis skills. Secondly, how very fitting for the show that they didn't hand Dan his happy ending easily, that he fought and won it for himself. Him as a ghost and him as Le Mec was equally funny, and his talk with Trixie was just perfect, literally tears you guys.

Amenadiel becoming God

I mean, dude's perfect for the job! From the loyal, distant, obeying servant to a God who wants to work as a team with his siblings, who wants the Celestials to experience the human world, who hates injustice and loves fiercely? In this universe, I couldn't imagine anyone better suited to be God.

Nobody misses the case of the week

At least I don't! God, I wish they'd tried this out sooner.

The bittersweet ending

Let's preface this by saying I HATE bittersweet endings. Give me a happily ever after or else. And yet, and yet!! I think the ending they settled on is perfect. Would I have loved it if Lucifer had a life on earth with Chloe, Trixie and Rory? God, yes. Do I get emotional over him being alone in hell, again? Goddd, yes. But still. I so love that he found his calling in the end, that they reunited, and that he actually makes good on his promise from S5 to change the system. Also, I don't care if this is canon or fanon for now, but they totally spend time in heaven with Rory and visit earth whenever they like. And this would have been my ideal ending - them being free to go where they like, and I don't see why they shoudn't. It's definitely more satisfying than just traipsing off to heaven indefinitely, so I really, really loved that.

what i didn't (do feel free to skip this!)

Lucifer missing out on Chloe's life on earth and being alone in hell again. Chloe being left again.

Time travel shenanigans. I just finished Dark and that was enough of a mindfuck. Do not want to think about loops for this show, thank you very much.

Chloe felt a little too housewifey in the first episodes, but it thankfully didn't stay that way for long.

Lucifer and Chloe talking about keeping secrets for a whole episode, and then NOBODY TALKING ABOUT URIEL AND CANDY. I mean, ahhhhhhh! If you don't want to talk about it, then don't, but don't remind people of it constantly and then NOT discuss it. It drives me mad, honestly, how many times they referenced these storylines only to completely ignore them when there were opportunities to resolve them. Ahhh. That's what fic is for, I guess.

Adam. Like, why? Bye, dude.

what i'll keep with me

When someone I'd just met at my boyfriend's cousin's wedding in 2019 recommended this "funny, little show" to me that intrigued them because they were interested in finding their faith, I really didn't think I'd write all this three years later.

Lucifer is my third fandom, and it won't be my last, but it sure as hell - ha - will stay with me. I resonate so deeply with Lucifer as a character because he fights with the idea of God, fights with this concept of a benevolent father that everyone seems to believe in but never fit his experience. I come from a Christian family and studied theology, but somewhere along the lines I had to come to terms with the fact that the faith I had as a child and teenager didn't fit me anymore. I want to believe again, and maybe someday I will, but right now I don't know that. So Lucifer's journey with that meant a lot to me. I'd like to find what Ella did, I guess.

Although I never really thought Lucifer needed redemption, I loved the whole "anybody can be redeemed" message as well. And hell reform! Hell is such a weird, awful construct - speaking as the theology expert - bringing a bit of purgatory in in this universe is really fucking cool.

Also, I binged Lucifer when I was alone in hospital late at night. That experience alone I'll never forget.

So, I guess - thank you!! Thank you to the cast and crew, to the fans who campaigned for season four, to Ildy and Joe, to the writers and the directors and the people who brought lunch: Thank you so much for this incredible show. I'm not ready to say goodbye, not by a long shot, and I hope this fandom feels the same.

Yabba dabba do me, I love my stupid little show!!!

[collecting-stories]

Book Club - 90s!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie books a gig at a suburban mom’s book club and Luke takes full advantage of the situation to flirt with you. 

A/N: I’m literally writing two other Luke fics right now 😭😭

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The third Thursday of every month belonged to your mother. It was her day, when she demanded not to be bothered, when she spent hours out of the house socializing with the women’s group that she belonged to. And, out of all those Thursdays, there were always the very special few when it wasn’t her leaving the house but everyone else. The group rotated their meeting time, everyone for a blue moon meeting at your house, meaning, of course that you were expected to stay out. Staying out was not a difficult thing to do, in fact you relished the opportunity to spend a few more hours with your friends. 

It was one of those Thursdays, when all the ladies that your mother loved to lunch with were spending the afternoon at your house and you were making yourself scarce, that arguably the weirdest but maybe best thing happened. Your mom had told you before you left for school that morning that she expected you to stay out, and you would have, if you had remembered your wallet. But you’d left it in your room, on the edge of the vanity, and you didn’t want to be the one owing money when your friends went to lunch. A quick stop home should’ve been easy, the stairs were right off the kitchen and the side door was right there, giving you the opportunity to shoot upstairs and grab your wallet without her being the wiser to it. 

The whole thing would’ve gone off without a hitch except that when you walked through the side door and into the kitchen you came face to face with four boys from your school. You recognized them more for the fact that you didn’t hang out in the same circle; most of your friends held a certain level of contempt for the four guys that made up Sunset Curve. You didn’t necessarily dislike any of them, you didn’t necessarily even know them, though you would be lying if you said that the lead singer, who occasionally sat in front of you in math, was seriously making you rethink a deep dive into all this rock music. Luke, Reggie, Alex, and Bobby were standing in your kitchen. They were the Green Day/Nirvana worshipping, head banging rockers that ditched school regularly and got into worlds of trouble and they were standing in your kitchen.  

Bobby was the only one who looked up from snacking on leftover hors d’oeurves, saying your name in surprise as the other three all stopped to look at you too. Alex gave an awkward little wave as he set down the small sandwich he was eating.  

“Uh...what are you guys doing in my house,” you asked, looking between the four of them.  

“Your mom tapped us to perform for her ladies club.” Luke explained, dropping his food on the plate and wiping his hands against his black pants.  

Your mom had invited these four to sing for her conservative ladies’ group? You tried not to but you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you thought about it. Whatever your friends said about the guys, you weren’t ashamed to say you had taken one of the free demos that Reggie handed out and had been listening to it on repeat for a while now. “My mom wanted you guys to play a gig for her and her friends?” You clarified.

“Until we started playing,” Reggie replied, and you couldn’t help laughing.

“I bet...you guys aren’t exactly...suburban mom rock.” You joked, “though I totally would’ve loved to see their faces when you guys started singing.”  

The grin on Luke’s face was unmistakable though you missed it as you nabbed one of the sandwiches on the plate near Alex. It was probably some really stupid cliche, him liking one of the popular girls. Cute, cheerleader, future prom queen. You hung out with people who listened to Britney Spears and Spice Girls, any knowledge of the rock scene they might’ve actually had was only for the sake of making dumb jabs at him or his friends. Still, Luke had a massive crush on you and he wasn’t so embarrassed to admit it. Bobby joked that he wanted to “bring you over to the dark side” and maybe that sounded cynical but he thought he wouldn’t mind seeing you look a little less perfectly put together if it had something to do with him. Hearing you mention his music almost had him doing a back flip from excitement.  

“So you’ve listened to our music?” Luke asked, moving closer to you, leaning on the counter beside you. Behind him, Alex rolled his eyes.

“Reggie gave out demos like...last month.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. You’d been excited to listen to their music, see if it was any good and had discovered that you actually loved it. They were talented guys and you felt surprisingly connected to the songs. “I might’ve listened.”

“I did!” Reggie piped up, “I gave demos to all the-” he stopped, mouthing instead, as if you wouldn’t understand him when he said ‘all the cute girls’.  

“I hate to ask but...don’t you think like, actual clubs would be better places to promote your music? I don’t think the middle-aged moms are really a target audience, unless you’re into that kind of thing?” You said, peering down the hallway when you heard the familiar squeak of a floorboard. If the boys were still here than there was no doubt in your mind that your mom had told them to stay for some reason or another.  

“You gotta start somewhere.” Luke replied, unfazed by the hint of judgement in your voice.  

“My living room?” You asked, jokingly.  

He smiled, “actually, we’re playing a club on the strip tomorrow night, we could, maybe, get you on the guest list?”  

“We’re opening for someone else,” Bobby cut in, bringing Luke back down to reality, “I’m pretty sure no one’s ever even heard of the band we’re opening for.”  

Luke glared at Bobby, sticking his finger in his mouth and then jabbing it into Bobby’s ear, a smile of success immediately lighting up his features when Bobby recoiled in disgust. “So what’d ya say?” Luke asked.  

“I mean, I guess technically every band deserves girls screaming for them, so sure…I’ll go.” You agreed, eyes on Luke the entire time.  

The last concert you had been to wasn’t even for you, your mom had dragged you to a Beach Boys concert up in San Francisco for her birthday weekend when your father refused to indulge her so-called ‘terrible taste in music’. “There are just some things we will never agree on and music is one of them.” He had insisted back then. It was the same thing you felt like telling your friends when you declined a party invitation in favor of heading down to the strip to see the guys play. You could’ve maybe played it off casually, as if you were heading down there anyway and Sunset Curve just happened to be opening but Bobby was right, you’d never heard of the band that was performing after them.  

Not to mention Luke decided to show up for a least a quarter of the day just to mess with your head. You had spotted him in the hallway between classes and smiled when he looked your way, a split second before the sea of students scrambled to get to their lockers. Your own best friends appeared by yours, looking more and more like carbon copies of the Heathers every day. You kind of hated them, truth be told, but you didn’t have too many other options.  

They were badgering you about the party as you tried to wrack your brain for an excuse that sounded convincing when Luke stopped, right in front of the three of you.  

“Hey, I’ll see ya tonight?” He asked, whole body turned to face you and completely ignoring the looks of disdain and shock cloaking your friends faces.  

You felt like a deer in headlights. Say yes and your friends would probably ostracise you, say no and you could just imagine the look on Luke’s face. Anything but this absolutely sincere and hopeful smile was something you didn’t want to be responsible for. You really liked him looking at you like that.  

“Yeah, can’t wait.” You nodded.  

When he stepped back out into the traffic of the hallway he touched your waist, as if he was anchoring himself for a second and you bit your lip, letting yourself watch him disappear before turning to face the firing squad.  

“Luke Patterson?” Both of your friends spoke in unison, one breaking off to elaborate, “you’re ditching a party at Max Turner’s house for Luke Patterson?”  

“His band is playing at some club on the strip.” You replied, shutting your locker and heading toward your next class. “They invited me to come watch the show.”

“And you’re going?”  

You hadn’t been to anything smaller than a stadium concert before and the implication of a concert at a local club venue, right on the strip with all the ‘riffraff’ that were hanging around trying to make it big like their 80’s punk rock idols wasn’t exactly your scene but, Luke had looked so cute asking you to go and you had the tiniest, maybe delusional, feeling that he’d come to school just to remind you that tonight was the concert. How could could even consider some suburban house party to that?  

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing, you could see your social status flashing before your eyes and your mom’s voice desperately begging you to reconsider. “Besides, Luke’s hot.”

“Did you have some kind of Freaky Friday switch when you woke up this morning? Luke is not hot.”  

“Okay,” you drew the word as if disbelieving. He wasn’t some 90210 reincarnate but he was definitely one of the hottest guys in school, not to mention the sleeveless shirts were an added bonus. “Well, I said I was going, so I’m going.”

And, despite the continued protests of your friends throughout the day, you did go. You promised your parents you were spending Friday night studying at Terri’s house and took the bus down to the strip to wait in line for Sunset Curve and whoever was headlining. You stood there twirling your fake ID in your hands, listening to the two girls in front of you (who didn’t need fakes) talk about some drummer that wasn’t anyone you’d ever heard of and tried to look as mature as possible. If Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby could play this venue, surely you could get into it.  

Whether the ID worked or the bouncer at the front door just didn’t care, he let you through, admitting you into a pulsing crowd of people making their way through the small vestibule and into the venue. You slipped your way through the crowd until you made it to the front, pressed against the railing and inches away from another bouncer who seemed just as disinterested in you. The drumkit that was already on the stage had the Sunset Curve logo on it. You ran a hand through your hair and fixed your shirt, maybe it was silly but you were sort of hoping that even in the silhouetted lighting of the venue you Luke might see you. Maybe a little pathetic groupie on your end but he had invited you.  

And he did see you. Halfway through Now or Never when he looked down over the crowd, he caught you, dancing along to their music, the smile on your face as you mouthed the words was infectious. It was the combination of seeing someone singing all the songs back to them and that person being you, mixed with the adrenaline of the performance, that had him pushing to give his absolute all. You’d actually come and he was determined to make this a great concert for you.  

Alex was the one to announce that they would be in the vestibule during the lull between bands, they got the occasional straggler who dared to leave their post long enough to say hello or great job but usually it garnered nothing more than the four of them splitting some pizza and relaxing by their merch table. Tonight, as they headed off stage to an enthusiastic crowd, Luke chanced a glance back but he couldn’t find you in the sea of people. Reggie grabbed his arm, pulling him the rest of the way off the stage and throwing an arm around his shoulder, going on about how awesome the show was, Luke quickly returning the jovial compliment.

“We were fire, man, that sounded so rad tonight!” He cheered, following Alex and Bobby as they made their way through the small hall that wove back into the vestibule.  

“It was insane!” Reggie agreed.  

You had made your way back through the venue after Luke mentioned being at the merch table, slipping back passed the bouncer at the inside door, flashing your stamped hand. Their table was set up in the corner, a little way away from the headlining band’s. You stepped into the vestibule at the same time as the boys, waving at Alex when he looked your way. He nodded, reaching over to tap Luke’s chest with the back of his hand.  

“That was incredible.” You admitted, walking over to their table. Luke’s smile instantly widened as he walked around to your side, not even thinking as he hugged you, your shoulders hunching at the feeling of sweat that encompassed you. “Ew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Luke apologized, pulling away and putting his hands on your upper arms for a second before dropping them to his sides. “Still going off the adrenaline.”

“That’s okay,” you promised, “you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned against the table, trying to look cool. He felt like he was grasping for words and he didn’t want to start stuttering or sounding dumb, Bobby would never let him live it down if he made a fuck up of himself. The other three tried not to laugh and ruin his moment.  

You seemed to recover from the moment first, glancing at the other three before landing on Luke again. “You guys are totally a live band though...like that was so good.”  

Reggie came in with a save, letting Luke off the hook for a moment, “Are you heading back in to see the headliner?”  

You grimaced, “don’t really know them...not really interested.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Luke, hoping that was hint enough that you’d come just to see him.  

It clearly was because, as a few girls stepped into the vestibule and looked like they were coming your way, Luke grabbed your arm, nodding toward the doorway for you to follow him. You did, walking with him into the hallway so that it was quieter, the sounds of the house music and the chatter of people outside being drowned out in the small corridor.  

“So, uh, sorry I’m still wigging out that you came.” He admitted.  

“I said I was going to, twice. Did you seriously think I was lying?” You asked.  

“I mean, I heard your friends giving you a hard time when I walked away, figured you might back out.”  

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, seriously Luke, you guys are amazing. You’re so talented.” You replied.  

“Guess I was right when I told Reggie to take that book club gig huh?” He said, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot on his keychain.  

“Why’s that?”  

“I thought maybe if I was lucky, I’d catch a glimpse of you...having you come here and watch us though? Better than I could’ve imagined.” He replied, grinning at you.  

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, don’t act so surprised.” He said, “you gotta know how insanely cool you are. And you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”  

“Thanks,” you bit your bottom lip to try and keep your composure, “I uh...damn, you’re making me super nervous.”  

“Yeah?” He stepped a little closer to you, his hands brushing against yours as if he was going to hold them. You couldn’t help wishing he would.  

“I should probably let you get back to your fans,” you pointed out, glancing back out the door to where a few more people had gathered. If you stayed in this hallway with him any longer there was no way you were letting him back out.  

“Hang out? We could grab some pizza or something after?” He asked.  

“Yeah, absolutely.”  

When he walked back through the door you followed behind him, hanging back so you weren’t hovering around them as they chatted with and signed stuff for the group of people that had ventured out between sets. It didn’t matter though, as he talked, he kept looking back at you smiling as if you were both in on some sort of secret.  

[fatefulfaerie]

Mortality

Zelink Week 2021 prompt #7/7 @zelinkweek2021

Word Count: 3,684

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild 2 (pre)

Additional Prompts Followed: Forsaken Fates, Lost Eternities

Inspired by this art by @morniae

A big thank you to @braidy-maidy and @linktheacehero for beta-ing!!

He wasn’t expecting a fairytale reunion as his horse trotted slowly, arriving at the Forgotten Temple with next to no fanfare. All sorts of geniuses from every race of Hyrule had gathered to study this place, to pull it from its lost state and unearth its secrets, to discover the reason behind its eternity and maybe even why its fate was to be forsaken and forgotten to all of history.

Link left his horse with the many others that were being cared for on the left side of the canyon and began to navigate the ruckus on foot. It seemed crowds of scientists and historians alike were out here securing their tents, making food, and languishing in a well-deserved rest. Link felt as if he stuck out like a sore thumb with his small brain, but no one paid him any mind, not even her.

In fact, she was nowhere to be found.

Perhaps he was expecting some fairytale reunion as he peered his head around every Sheikah, Goron, Rito, Zora, and Hylian in sight. He didn’t care that there was no fanfare, in fact, that may have made it even harder to spot her if it were a big deal that the hero of Hyrule had arrived. Thank Hylia these ruins were more interesting, that no crowd had congealed into a true tidal wave of obstacles. He missed her dearly, after all, no matter how short a time two weeks was in comparison to a hundred years.

He made his way all the way to the shrine in the back when he finally saw her. Zelda smiled when she spotted him and bounded over, clutching the Sheikah Slate.

“Thank the goddesses you’re here,” she said, pecking his cheek. “They haven’t made anything good for dinner in days.”

She walked right past him. Link’s mouth popped open as she practically flew to another inscription of the ruins being studied. Purah, following close behind Zelda, approached Link as he looked over.

“Two weeks she hasn’t seen me and I get a colder welcome than ten thousand year old ruins.”

Purah clicked her tongue and began to cross past Link.

“Sounds like you better get cooking.”

And so he didn’t see his blur of a girlfriend until dinner, when he was serving a ladle-full of meat stew to everyone who passed by with a bowl, salty chunks of meat and sweet carrots swimming in a broth that radiated a scrumptious scent for at least a mile.

The last person he served came up wearing a forehead beaded with sweat and sticky blonde hair from a hard-days work. As she approached, she lightly hit the empty wooden bowl against her hand, and pursed her lips taut with eyes almost apologetic. Her steps shuffled in the sand.

“Look who it is,” Link said before she could muster an apology. He looked more amused than upset, anyway. Zelda sat on her heels in front of the cooking pot and handed him her bowl.

“Sorry,” she said, “it was just a busy day. We think we’re close to finding--”

Link and Zelda’s eyes met. They both knew what she was going to say. The entrance to the caves. The hidden reason why this expedition was such an extensive operation. Only Purah and Impa knew the true reason, after all. Everyone else was just here for research. Bless their hearts.

They knew they needed to find it, but not finding it meant more of an excuse to not go down there.

Yet.

To not let go of the illusion of peace.

Yet.

To not face their mortality once again.

Not yet.

Link looked down to pour soup in her bowl. With everyone else fed--and Zelda more than likely went to the back of the line on purpose so that she would be the last one to eat--Link poured himself a bowl as well. They soon sat down in front of Zelda’s tent.

“When are Impa and Paya arriving?” Link asked.

“Tonight,” Zelda replied, but she swallowed hard, regretting taking another spoonful with a “mm”. 

“Oh my gosh I almost forgot!” she said enthusiastically. “You should have seen it, Link. The reunion between Purah and Robbie? They just marched up to each other, both short, old, and wrinkled, said each other’s names and walked off. It’s hard to believe they used to be lovers.”

Link choked on his stew.

“What?”

“Did I not...mention that?”

Link was still coughing, eyes tearing up.

“No?” He croaked, before coughing a couple more times. “You’d think I would remember something like that.”

“Believe me I wish I didn’t,” she said, before changing the subject. “Oh yeah, how did the meeting go?”

“Horrible,” Link said between spoonfuls.

“What do you mean?” Zelda inquired, slightly disappointed. She had hoped diplomacy would work.

“If I had known that Kohga had an eight year-old hiding somewhere in that hideout, I never would have attacked him,” Link started. “Apparently we needed him to keep his son in check. The kid is so hell-bent on revenge that he didn’t even read the treaty. He’s determined to hunt us down until the end of our days. Even his guards think he’s taking it a bit far. I could see it in their faces when Sooga was going on and on about his forces being strong and ready to fight. Those poor men and women are tired.”

“I thought the Yiga wore masks?”

Link shook his head.

“Not anymore,” he replied. “Sooga wants them to be proud of themselves, whatever that means. Goddesses, that whole meeting was like getting a child to eat their vegetables. I’m pretty sure Riju was about to slap him at the end, the little runt recycling the dogmas of the Yiga that are ten thousand years old now. Even when I ask him why he said such things about Hylians, he doesn’t give a straight answer. He knows less about history than I do and I had amnesia. He’s just been conditioned, raised to hate.”

“That’s unfortunate, but not hopeless,” Zelda said. “I’m sure Riju and the rest of the Gerudo will be able to work it out if the entirety of the clan no longer backs him. Is there any danger until then?”

Link shook his head and swallowed his current spoonful.

“Not yet,” he said once he could. “The only reason they haven’t attacked here is because he wants to find the entrance of the caves as much as we do. He didn’t say it outright, but he’s waiting for us to do it for him.”

“That’s not frightening at all,” she said sarcastically. “We’ll have to increase security when we do eventually go down there, make sure he doesn’t follow us.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Zelda,” Link said. “He’s only eight years old, and he’s pretty short and lean.”

Zelda smiled as she sipped her soup.

“I remember a little eight year old like that who could best adult knights,” she said with a smirk. “People say he saved Hyrule.”

“Really?”

“Never grew an inch after eight years old though.”

Link scoffed.

“I can and will pour the rest of this stew over your head,” he said as he held it up. Zelda laughed, but put her arms out in defense.

“Don’t you dare!” She exclaimed. She stood up and began to back away “I’m a princess!”

“Not anymore,” Link said, forgetting about the soup and tackling her. They wrestled playfully, rolling down the rocky slope and laughing joyfully until they stopped suddenly in a gulch, Zelda hovering over Link and sharing with him panting breaths.

“I win,” she said.

“By chance,” Link argued. He brought a hand up and lightly coaxed her head to lower. It, however, did not take much effort, as Zelda more than willingly met his lips to his, exploring his mouth and enjoying the sensation. She felt her cheeks warm. Kissing was all they had ever done, so being flush to him was frankly exhilarating, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest.

They both heard the reigns of horses, the clatter of a covered wagon, the jingle of Kakariko-style bells, but it blended too much into the rest of the ruckus for them to think anything of it.

“Paya, you brought us to the wrong place,” Impa said. “I wanted to go to the research expedition, not a mating ritual exhibition.”

Zelda pushed herself off Link and attempted to fix her hair, composing herself as best she could. Link stood up, but he let his messy hair be.

“H-hey Impa,” Zelda said, walking towards her oldest friend. Despite her feeble frame and short stature, Impa hopped off the wagon like a child. “How was the trip?”

“Long,” Impa said, bruskly.

“She’s a bit cranky,” Paya explained as she stepped off and started to untie the two brown horses from the wagon. “Where do these go?”

“Over there,” Link said, pointing over to the mini-stable on the left of the canyon. “And your tent is the one next to ours. If you’re hungry, there’s probably some stew left.”

“Please,” Impa said, allowing the young man to lead the way to the appropriate cooking pot. She even let him help her walk when the terrain wasn’t the smoothest.

They had left Zelda alone, but it gave her the opportunity to help Paya with unloading the wagon, and to catch up with one of her newer friends before they all turned in for the night.

Zelda was surprised to find Paya as reserved as she was when they first met, but after a bit of grilling she admitted to Zelda that Impa had told her of their true purpose here, that sealing Calamity Ganon may not have been an ending they could trust. Her red eyes were sad and apologetic for learning the secret but Zelda wouldn’t have it, insisting to Paya that it was okay, that it won’t be a secret for long, and that Hyrule was going to be okay.

That last one was a lie Zelda thought about well into the night.

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

“Zelda.”

He opened his eyes to the dark tent, the edge where tan cloth met a small patch of dry grass.

Link couldn’t believe a whisper was what woke him up. Still half awake and already turned away from the center flap of the tent, he kept his eyes closed, hoping he could doze off again.

“Zelda, wake up.”

Someone gently shook Zelda’s foot, and Link guessed the voice belonged to Paya.

Link felt Zelda’s arms slide away from holding him and he tried to slow his breaths. They both would feel so guilty for waking him.

“What is it?” Zelda asked, the rustling that followed suggesting that she got out of the tent. “Should I wake up Link?”

Paya must have shaken her head, or said something to suggest that it wouldn’t be necessary, because that was the last Link heard of the conversation.

He inwardly wrestled with the decision to get up anyway since he was, in fact, awake, but his comfort insisted otherwise and he drifted off before he made up his mind.

“Link.”

The sunlight was bright, even through the dulled filter of the canvas tent.

He felt Zelda’s hand on his shoulder, and he rolled over at the gentle prompt. Link found her green eyes.

“We found it,” she said. “An entrance to the caves.”

Link closed one eye and scrunched up his face. Zelda knew he did that when he was both tired and confused but with his messy bedhead she saw it as adorable.

Link moved his arm to the other, pinching his own skin somewhere around the wrist and, once he felt pain, his entire body sighed exasperated. He faced the top of the tent and closed his eyes far too tight to go back to sleep.

He opened the blue gems one at a time and took a deep breath.

“I assume we are leaving as soon as possible?”

Zelda nodded.

Link didn’t say another word when he got up and started getting ready, almost ignoring Zelda and how she sat on her heels in her own silent and undetectable bout of sadness. He even left her there in the tent but Zelda let him have his space, let him breathe his last breaths in this wild, fresh air, let him hear the birds and see the sun before she dragged him down to hell, back down to war, back down to fear and panic and worry and trauma and everything he had worked so hard to heal from.

It wasn’t until they were several steps into the caves that his stoicism really started to wear at her. One statement and all of him was left in the tent. He just…walked, looking forward, not saying a word. Zelda hated it as much as she did a hundred years ago. She tried to remember that he wasn’t really mad at her back then, so he couldn’t be mad at her now…

Right?

She looked over at his profile again.

Right?

“Link?”

The hooves of the large, blue ox behind them clapped along.

“I, uh…” she began when he gave no response. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Link said quickly and briskly.

Zelda’s lips parted. Her pacing slowed to a halt. If she hadn’t stopped pulling the ox along, it would have rammed into her.

Link looked over his shoulder when he realized he was the only one moving, turning around completely to see Zelda with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Zelda asked.

He decided to look elsewhere as he hugged his arms close, the stone ground, the cavernous chasm above them, the rocky wall, anywhere but Zelda.

“I’m not mad at you, I...” he said quietly, “I’m just feeling a little off, okay?” He said quietly. “I had trouble breathing when I left the tent this morning.”

Zelda’s expression softened. She closed the distance between them and attempted to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You could have told me that,” Zelda said. “I’m nervous too. We have a right to be. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Yet Link still refused to look up.

“I almost collapsed, I felt so weak,” Link said. “The dread, the fear of facing it all again, the thought of losing you…it gathered, I felt it here.”

He placed a hand on his chest and he started to pant. His fingers began to clutch at the brown leather, the blue cloth and he stumbled to his knees.

“Link!” Zelda exclaimed as she grabbed him under his forearms, kneeling down with him. His breaths were shaky and fast, and he stared down at the ground.

“Link,” she repeated. “Link.”

The next sound from Link was the combination of a spurt of fresh paint and a croaking frog, warm vomit spilling from his mouth in smelly chunks of beef and carrots. It was instinct that Zelda stood up with a yelp and backed away with arms floating up, the gathering of vomit ending up mere inches from her toes. If she had stayed where she was, her pants would have been covered in Link’s partly-digested dinner.

“Oh gosh, Link,” she said once she got over the shock, rushing to his side and drawing circles on his back. He didn’t react though, only staring at the mess on the floor with his weight on his hands.

Zelda’s eyes stung with tears as she ran her fingers through his hair, some drops even lopping onto Link’s mess. She held him as best she could while still giving him the distance he needed, but that could never stop her from the occasional kiss on the side of his head and whispering sweet assurances of love into his right ear.

After a couple fruitless lurches of his back and neck, Link hurled a second time. As ironic as it was for her to hope for anything from the goddess anymore, Zelda prayed it was the last one.

“Zelda,” he said between heavy breaths. It was apparent his lungs were exhausted. He coughed a couple times.

Link looked into Zelda’s eyes, finally, although they veered towards horror, the green marbles conveying desperation for how to relieve this poor young man.

“I know,” she said, trying to smile. She wiped away Link’s tears. “I know.”

Wary of the mess near them, she brought him into a proper embrace, rocking him back and forth and holding him in such a way that she was sure he knew he was held. She wasn’t sure how secure he could feel on the cusp of embarking into danger, but she would try her best.

“I’m scared, too,” she said. “Down here is an untouched wild that was left alone for a reason we know not of. Nothing is scarier than the unknown, especially for us who have been hurt again and again by the unknown. Hope has betrayed us too much for us to readily depend on it, but we have to try.”

Link looked up, tilting his head to see her.

“How?”

Zelda lips parted. She stammered speechlessly. He seemed so hurt by her hopefulness.

“Together,” she said, attempting to fake her confidence. There was still a small question mark at the end of her statement that she didn’t mean to expose.

Link stood up and faced away from her. He crossed his arms.

“Do you know how long a version of Ganon has been terrorizing Hyrule?” Link asked. “How long he has been reincarnating?”

Zelda, who was now sitting on her heels, shook her head.

“No,” she said honestly.

“Do you know what makes us any different from the people who tried to stop him in the past?”

“No,” Zelda repeated, again, honestly.

Link nodded.

“I don’t either,” he said. “And that scares me.”

Zelda stood up.

“Link, we—”

“I can’t lose you!” Link exclaimed, turning around quickly. “I ignored it, okay?! All this time when you talked about there being caves, there being another journey, I ignored it! I put it off! I casted it aside! I focused on us.” His voice broke. “I thought that was all there would ever be…”

He placed his hands on his hips and collected himself.

“This morning it all collapsed,” he said. “Right before my eyes. Everything I could have ever hoped for.”

Zelda scoffed.

“Do you think I was happy to have found these caves?” Zelda asked rhetorically. “To have been woken up in the middle of night and told that this place I saw in my nightmares was indeed real, that I was to investigate a threat that hasn’t been faced in ten thousand years of Hyrule birthing warriors more capable than you? I had to keep a straight face, but Link, I wanted to scream so loud that even Lurelin could hear me!”

Zelda released her residual anger at the world in heavy pants of her breaths. Once she sighed herself calm, she snagged a small rag from the heaps of resources strapped to the patient and by now likely deaf ox.

Zelda stepped forward and washed Link’s stunned face clean of vomit.

“Then I thought of our future,” Zelda continued. “I was angry because coming down here means jeopardizing that. I scorned myself for how selfish that was. I told myself that this wasn’t about me and you, that this is about a peaceful Hyrule. That helped but...do you want to know what really helped?”

“What?” Link asked.

“The people of Hyrule want to live in peace, and so do we. They want to raise families without worrying about another Calamity.” Zelda smiled. “I think we do too, when the time comes.” She perished the thought. That was a long while down the road. “But this isn’t just about a peaceful Hyrule, it’s about our peaceful Hyrule. I’m no longer a princess, distanced from others by a pedestal, and you are no longer a knight, distanced from others by a sword. We actually feel like a part of Hyrule this time. Of course we loved the Champions, my father, but we aren’t acting as Hyrule’s weapons anymore. We don’t feel like cards to be discarded or pawns to be knocked off in a game of chess. All of this is voluntary. We can’t blame a kingdom or a calamity this time. The possibility of losing each other is already giving us stomach-churning guilt because no one told us to go down here. We came down here because we want to preserve peace for all of us, preserve peace beyond even our lifetimes.”

Zelda placed a hand on Link’s cheek.

“And we will,” she said. “We have to believe we will. If we don’t think we’ll get out of here, then there is no chance we will. This is our first on-our-own decision and it’s a damn risky one. We can always turn back if--”

“No,” Link interrupted.

Link’s hand went to hers and his thumb stroked her soft fingers.

“No,” he repeated, however shakily. “We are going through with this. I just need to process it, that’s all. I didn’t think we would actually be doing this. I think we both held on to the fantasy of peace. I definitely held on to it too much.”

He finally let her touch soothe him.

“I’m here,” Zelda assured him softly. “I’m right here.”

She took his hand and placed it on her heart, the rhythm of which pulsated through his own veins.

“I’m not supposed to be alive right now,” Zelda said. “I should have died an eighty year old queen about thirty years ago but here we both are, young and spry. These caves are filled with dangers we don’t know, but with my heart in your hands and your heart in mine I know we can dare to do the impossible again.”

Link met his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. He tried to breathe the way she was, to feel her calm and to adapt it into his own body.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.”

[a-simple-imagine]

Study Date

Requested by anonymous: “Hermione Granger x reader where reader is best friends with Luna and has a crush on Hermione. She never acts on those feelings because Hermione called Luna Looney and seems to dislike her and in the end maybe Luna sets them up. “

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 2.3k+

A/N - Today i offer you yet another story about hermione granger. Tomorrow? Who knows. 

Thank you to @kileyrose-2003​ for checking it over.

Hermione Granger was a complete enigma but that was probably due to the fact there was only so much you could learn through limited interactions. If there was one thing you knew about her, it was that she was a spectacular witch with a thirst for knowledge. She had been placed in Gryffindor all those years ago but she truly could have excelled as a Ravenclaw; if that had been the case perhaps the two of you would be closer. Things would have been entirely different but alas you were left to admire from afar since that very first year when you noticed her across the Great Hall. You didn't even have any classes together until you started taking electives. However, as hard as you tried Hermione Granger seemed to avoid you at all costs. You had invited her to hang out many times but she always declined. Maybe Ron and Harry were the limits of her social perimeters?

A hand sways before your eyes drawing you back to reality. "So easily distracted."

Luna Lovegood had such a melodic, soft voice that it was weirdly hard to ignore. Then again everything about the girl could be considered peculiar which was something you greatly admired. She didn't care what anyone thought of her and yet you cared so desperately what they thought of you. "Sorry," You hum, folding the paper in your hands. "I just... do you think there is something wrong with me?"

"No more than anyone else,"

"Maybe that's why she doesn't like me," You let out a defeated sigh before placing the origami tiger you had been working on down on the table.

"Who?"

From the corner of your eyes, you spot a familiar brunette wander into the Great Hall. A few books wedged under her arm. "Can you just give me a sec-"

Without giving Luna a chance to respond, you leap to your feet and scramble along the length of the entire table and then around to catch Hermione.

"Wait," You place your hand against her shoulder, startling her just a little. "Hermione,"

She spins on her heel; her frown morphing into that of a welcoming smile. At least she seemed happy to see you. "Yes?"

"I..." you trail off as a wave of heat washes over you. The Gryffindor always managed to make you feel anxious. It wasn't a bad thing; you knew it was because you liked her but with her already taking every opportunity to ignore you it didn't exactly help the situation. "I was wondering if you uh, wanted to play with us? Me and Luna, I mean."

It sounded rather childish slipping from your lips but Hermione's brow quirked up. "What are you playing?"

"We're having a race," Your expression brightens at her interest, signalling back to the Ravenclaw table where Luna now sat alone. "We both made something out of paper and we’re gonna enchant them so they run the racecourse we made." To the left of Luna was a makeshift racetrack made of books, cups and even your spare inks and quills. It was only small so it'd be a quick race before lunch began. "If I win Luna promised to make my bed every day for a week. If she wins she gets my last bag of Fizzing Whizzbees."

"Shouldn't you be studying during study hall?" Seems Miss Granger was all work and no play. You simply shrug, standing a little taller.

"I'm smart enough already," You declare proudly, a cocky smirk on full display. "And besides it’s nearly lunchtime so we were long overdue a break."

You watch her eyes drift from yours over to where Luna was sat and back. "You two are quite the pair."

"Me and Luna?" As if she could sense you talking about her, Luna waves at the two of you. "She's like my best friend."

"You don't find her a little... strange to be around?" Hermione muses. "A little... loony perhaps? Half the school thinks she's lost her mind."

She was right in saying that a lot of your fellow students judged Luna harshly for being a little more outside the box but you never expected Hermione to be one of them. "I think... she's awesome and I'm glad she's my friend. You shouldn't judge her so harshly when you don't even know her."

You may have invited her to join you but that offer was no longer on the table as you marched back to the Ravenclaw table without another word. Slumping down in your seat exasperated sigh. "Are you okay?"

Plastering on a smile, you give her a firm nod. "Shall we start?"

"What happened over there? You seemed rather excited before."

"Nothing," Focusing on the origami, you pick up your wand.

"You shouldn't bottle things up," Luna expresses softly, picking up her wand too. "Might make your head explode."

"Does it ever bother you that people call you crazy?" You wonder.

"Not really," her head shakes. "It's all in good fun."

You never understood if Luna's belief in people was misguided or just for show. If the roles were reversed you'd certainly not enjoy having people make fun of you. "But what if it's not?"

"Then it's out of my control," Luna flashes a smile. "Shall we start."

With a nod of your head and wands at the ready, Luna starts the countdown. "3... 2..." your grip tightens around your wand. "1.... Go"

With a flick of your wrist, the paper tiger springs to life but it takes a few nudges from the end of your wand to get it moving. When you saw Luna's monstrosity trailing behind, you knew you had this race in the bag.

"I don't think Hermione likes you very much," you don't know why you decided to tell her that, it seemed only cruel in the moment. "I don't think she likes me much either as hard as I try,"

"Maybe you should stop trying," Luna's focus was exclusively on the race as you watch her. Maybe you should stop trying... that was easier for her to say because she didn't find herself with butterflies every time she saw the girl. Searching the Gryffindor table, you find Hermione sitting alone; scribbling away on a piece of parchment. "Staring can be considered quite rude, y'know?" 

Glancing back at the race, you find both racers have crossed the finish line and were now laying completely still against the table. Students were beginning to pile into the hall for lunch so it was time to clean up a little. "Sometimes it's hard not to," Reaching over the table you grab your quill. "She's just interesting- who won by the way?"

"It was you," Did you win or was she just being nice? It didn't matter now anyway so you may as well take the win.

You haven't spoken to Hermione since that day she had the audacity to question your friendship with Luna. You didn't necessarily think she had meant what she said in a bad way but it just hadn't sat right with you. It also helped that the only class you shared was Defence Against the Dark Arts so she wasn't all that hard to avoid. The page of your textbook flips over with a gust of wind as you lounge against the stone archways in the quiet courtyard. When you spot Harry, Ron and Hermione, you bury your face behind your book in hopes of not drawing any attention. If you didn't acknowledge she was there maybe you wouldn't long to run over.

"Hey," Slowly lowering the book, you spy the girl in herself looking perkier than usual. Seemingly having abandoned her friends just to come and speak to you.

"Hello," you reply quietly, keeping your eyes on the page. It was explaining how to create the Forgetfulness Potion; a beginner level potion and not at all hard to make.

"Luna said you'd be out here," You glance up at the mention of your friend's name. Why had she been talking to Luna? "And that you may require a study partner,"

Strange. She had never wanted to study with you before. "You don't have somewhere else you'd rather be?"

Hermione shakes her head. "Luna can be quite convincing but if you'd rather study alone, I can go."

"No," the reply comes a little too quickly. "I mean, uh... you can stay. I'd really like the company."

"Great, Ron and Harry are rather distracting when it comes to studying," She plops herself down at the other end of the archway by the end of your feet. Your knees were now pulled a little closer to your chest, propping up your potions book. "I can quiz you if you want?"

"Can I ask you something?" You pose the question as you sit up a little straighter trying to give her more room; handing over the book in the process.

"Of course," Taking the boom, Hermione's hand brushes over the cover but she opens it and begins flickering through the pages. She had the same textbook so you're not exactly sure what she expects to find.

"Why are you here?" The rustling of pages comes to an abrupt stop as her eyes settle on yours but only for a moment.

"To study?"

"You've never been interested in me before," you reply bluntly. "I don't see what's changed now? What exactly did Luna say?"

"Just that you like me," Wide eyes of surprise, your stomach sinks. She was joking right? She had to be. "And that you think I don't like you which is perplexing. So she told me where you usually go to study and that you'd very much appreciate my company."

"I'm gonna kill her," you growl under your breath, sinking down against the stone. How you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now.

"I also thought it was only right that I apologise for the other day," you can't even bring yourself to reply; too scared you'll somehow embarrass yourself further. "I shouldn't have spoken about Luna that way- I also apologised to her. Are you ready?"

Anything to help forget about what Luna had purposely done, you nod your head a little. Setting this whole thing up was a sweet enough idea but she didn't have to straight-up tell Hermione that you liked her. Hopefully, you could just play it off as friends. A silence settled between the two of you as Hermione searches through your book. "I'm gonna say a potion and you just have to list the ingredients, simple enough?" You can feel her eyes on you but can't bring yourself to look back. "You alright?"

"Mhmm,"

"Are you sure?" She questions. "I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything. I'm sure Luna had the best of intentions."

"Just say a potion," It's even more awkward when she brings it up the fact Luna told her. "Please,"

"Okay, how about... Draught of Living Death?"

"Uh..." for a second your mind seems completely blank. Taking a deep breath you settle your nerves a little. "Standard potioning water, Powdered Root of Asphodel..." your brow furrows in concentration. "Infusion of... Wormwood? Valerian root, A Sopophorous bean and-"

"Sloth brain," Hermione finishes. "Good job. Okay, let's try..." The pages flutter between her fingers for a moment. "Exstimulo Potion."

Exstimulo potion. You rake your brain for any memory of it; If you remember correctly it was a potion used to boost magical energy. It was a beginning level potion so it won't be too complicated to make. "Re'em blood... Granian hair, Snowdrop maybe, and like... uh... Bitter root?"

"For an extra point, what colour should it be?"

That you knew almost instantly. "sky blue."

With each passing question, your confidence grew around the same speed as Hermione's smile did. You liked to think that your extensive knowledge of potions was impressive but in all honesty, some wouldn't see it that way. "You are really good at this,"

"I enjoy potions. They value knowledge over skill more than some of the other classes- that's not to say potion-making doesn't require skill and vice-versa. " You explain, moving so your legs now dangle over the edge similar to how Hermione was sitting. "It's probably my best class but I like the study of ancient runes too. What about you? I imagine you're brilliant no matter the class."

"I wouldn't go that far," Her gentle laugh fills your ears, filling you with such an innocent sense of glee. "I like most of my classes though, I would take more if I could."

"Of course you would," You giggle to yourself. "I heard in the past you used a time-turner just to attend more classes."

"Guilty," She offers you a smile. You'd done research on time turners, they were interesting little devices but it took a lot of guts to use one. "It was worth it."

"It's a pretty smart way to use one," No surprise considering who you're talking to.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Anything." Hermione fiddles with the corner of the page she has settled on.

"When Luna said you like me, I'm guessing she meant..."

The fire in your cheeks spread hot and fast which had the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. She really had to bring it up again? She couldn't have just ignored it and moved on? "...yeah." You admit quietly. Handing your textbook back, Hermione slips down onto her feet

"So this was her way of setting us up... hmm," Spinning on her heel, she looks to the sky. The sun was beginning to set so it was illuminated by an orange glow. "For a girl so imaginative I would have expected something a little more than a study date."

"I like studying," She sharply turns back to you.

"As do I," She offers a gentle smile. "But I think we should do something a little more traditional for a first date, don't you?"

"First date?"

"Only if you want to,"

"I... yeah. I'd love to."

[yuta-nakamots]

we go up - l.mk

Pairing - Mark x Reader

Genre - Fluff, College!AU

Warnings - one single mention of sex but no descriptions of it

Summary - Growing up was a part of life. Though you were scared of all that the future holds, you looked forward to going through it all with Mark right by your side.

Word Count - 4.2k

A/N - this was supposed to be released 4 days ago ahaha I passed all my classes so that’s really what matters. anyways, here’s this fic to celebrate Milly’s 3 years on Tumblr and 5 years for me and my blog

Written for the Moodboard Collab hosted by @bumblebeenct​​. Also part of the Neowinter Festival hosted by @czennienet.

Song: We Go Up. Color Set: #1.

Never would you have thought that you’d be on the path to living in the real world so soon. Summers were for relaxing and having fun but you’ll never regret jumping at the opportunity to travel the world with Mark Lee instead.

Mark’s parents were executives for a travelling company that offered a variety of trips all over the world. You knew it was part of their job to visit those countries and survey the different options available and put together plans based on them but with Mark having just graduated from college and you going into your final year, it was soon to be a job shared by both of you as well.

It hasn’t been long since you first began dating him, in fact, it hadn’t been long since you first met him on your first day on campus. Both of you were moving in on the same day and crossed paths as you were lugging your two loaded suitcases in through the main entrance of the dormitory. Your family hadn’t come with you, putting their faith in you to make it to your school on your own, so you could only guess how pitiful you must’ve looked to others.

“Hey those look pretty heavy, I can help you with that if you’d like,” you looked up to find the owner of the voice and were met by a handsome boy with a smile you’d never forget, “my name is Mark, by the way.”

“Uh, y/n, nice to meet you and yeah, actually, if you could take this one it would help me so much.” You told him as you pulled up the smaller of the two suitcases.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take the larger one? I can handle it.” He looked at you with eyes full of interest, his pupils almost resembling boba thanks to the odd lighting in the hall.

You shook your head before turning to head to the elevator, “I only just met you, I wouldn’t make you do this. Besides, it’s not even that much heavier than the other one.”

“Alright, whatever you say. What floor are you on though? I can help you move in if you don’t have anyone else.” He offered kindly.

“I’m on the third floor,” you informed him, “but don’t you have somewhere to be? You couldn’t have just been sitting around in the lobby.”

You say his expression morph into one of panic before quickly relaxing, “oh, I was just on my way to the university center to pick up my keys and get my mail. Gosh, you made me think I was late to something important.” The laugh he let out was so full and loud, it felt as if it were reaching out to you.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything else you should be doing?” You question as you pressed the button for the elevator. “I’d hate to be the reason why you missed a meeting or something.”

Mark pulled out his phone as both of you waited for the elevator. “No, I’m pretty sure I don’t have anything else planned for today. I just had to move in earlier and that’s it, I don’t have any solid plans.” The doors opened and let out a few other people, who you guessed were also students, before you and Mark stepped in.

“I just met you though,” you pointed out, “how do I know that you’re not some weirdo that’s gonna try steal my stuff?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Really? I mean, not like in a bad way ‘really’ but I can promise you that I’m not trying to do anything bad.”

You hummed in mock sarcasm, “mmhmm, that’s what they all say.”

“If you don’t believe me I’ll give you my number if you want or like my room number, even-”

“Mark I was just joking dude.” You laughed, amused by how gullible the boy was.

“Oh…” he breathed, relief settling over him as the doors opened up to the third floor, “but can I still get your number though?”

“Beat me to my room and I’ll think about it.” You took off running in a random direction, unsure which way you were even supposed to go in.

Mark followed close behind, “wait but I don’t even know which room number to look for!”

“Maybe that’s the point!” You shout back.

continue as always, wild and free

Though he did not make it to your room before you, you still gave him your phone number to thank him for helping you with your luggage. Mark was kind enough to stay and help you unpack your things and get your room set up. He even accompanied you to get dinner from the cafeteria since it was already getting late by the time the two of you finished unloading everything.

Over the next few days before classes, you hung out with Mark and any other freshmen that you happened to run into. You found out that Mark was a business major and planned to minor in tourism industry management. As for you, your major was biology with a focus in ecology.

Mark seemed to love sharing about himself as seen from the way he eagerly told you about the company his parents worked for and how he was interested in someday becoming a part of it which was why he chose his intended path of study. You had come in the college with the intent of wanting to make a difference in the world and help tackle one of the biggest global issues, which is climate change, leading you to your chosen track.

Mark was a great listener and seemed genuinely interested in everything you had to say. If he thought anything was lame or dumb, he hid it very well because he seemed to be picking up all the information you put down. You had come in knowing that most people in large corporations didn’t think much about the environment. Either Mark was faking it to keep his new friendship with you or he genuinely held the same beliefs as you. You chose to believe it was the latter.

All throughout your first year in college together you and Mark stuck together, always preferring each others company, even within the large group of friends you managed to accumulate with him. Luckily he was only one floor above you so he wasn’t far away at all. If you ever needed anything, he really was ‘one call away’ and would come running even if it was just to catch a bug in your room.

Freshmen year came and went, both you and Mark went back home for summer vacation and came back to campus as sophomores. You both kept in touch and regularly updated each other on things like Mark’s trip to Britain with his parents. That was the first real glimpse you had into his dreams and goals for his future. Meanwhile you just ranted to him about all the terrible customers that came in at your part-time job, though he didn’t seem to mind at all and always offered you his company.

Sophomore year was when he asked you to be his girlfriend. After the two of you had eaten dinner together as usual and were walking back to the dorms, that was when he had finally made a move. “So, uh, I know this may be kind of sudden but I actually really like you.” He told you.

You looked up at him as you continued walking next to him. “And in what way, exactly?”

“In a ‘I like you as more than just a friend’ kind of way.” He replied, looking down at the leaf-covered sidewalk.

“Well lucky for you, I might just like you in the same way.” Mark’s head shot up and his eyes met yours.

He blinked rapidly and his gaze never left yours, as if searching for the truth. “Wait, like really?”

“Yes, really.” You pulled him closer to you so he wouldn’t walk right into the tree that was coming up.

“Does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” He asked after mumbling a quick ‘thank you’.

You stopped walking and turned to face him. “If you ask properly then I don’t see why not.”

“Oh, uh,” his eyes flitted left to right before finally settling on yours, “will you be my girlfriend?”

“No.” You tried to hold your laughter in the way his eyes widened but you just couldn’t. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend you stupid! I didn’t say all of that for nothing, oh my gosh you really are so gullible.”

Mark’s mouth opened slightly before he closed it again and then burst out going “don’t do that to me for crying out loud! You don’t even know how I was actually about to cry if you said no just now.”

You grabbed his hand and quickly interlaced your fingers with his. “There, I’m sorry. Do you feel better now? Do you want me to kiss you to make you feel better?”

“Uh, yes? To both?” He spoke, still shaken from earlier.

You raised his hand to your lips, kissing that back of his hand with a smile. “Thank you for choosing me.”

i’m gonna try flying a little further

Things continued on in this way in your relationship, always keeping things lighthearted and never too serious. Thankfully both of you had past dating experience and weren’t completely clueless on how to act toward each other. One thing led to the next and you had your first kiss with him the day he was leaving to go home for winter break. “I love you, stay safe, don’t die.” You called out to him as he got into his uber.

“Got it babes, love you too.” He sent you a kiss before shutting the door which you happily caught and held to your heart.

It was during that break that the two of you told your parents about each other and things went surprisingly smooth of both ends. Mark had even informed you that his parents were interested in meeting you after he told them about your field of study. “Yeah they were so intrigued by it! They’ve been looking into more sustainable and eco-friendly options for a while now so I think this must’ve struck a chord with them.” He chattered excitedly over the phone.

“Dude, don’t make me even more nervous about meeting them-”

“Hold up, did you just call me dude?” He questioned.

“It’s not like you don’t call me dude as well.” You commented.

Mark let out a laugh on his end. “Alright, fair enough. But not to alarm you or anything, but they said that I could bring you along for one of our trips during summer if you’re down.”

“Oh my gosh, seriously?” You exclaimed.

“Yes, seriously,” he confirmed, amused at your enthusiasm, “should I tell them that you’re interested?”

“Mark is that even a question? Of course I’m interested.” Your excitement was almost bubbling over from the way everything seemed to be working in favor of you and Mark.

The next summer, you did indeed tag along with Mark and his parents to who were more than happy to meet you and share information on their company while visiting Nevada. Mark wasn’t lying when he said that you interests ‘struck a chord’ with them. Sometimes it seemed like you were more like their child than he was with how much his parents talked with you about possible green options to inquire for. It was thanks to them that you decided to minor in tourism industry management like Mark, even though it would set you behind one year in graduation.

Going into your junior year, you were able to put together a small scrapbook of sorts with all the pictures from the trip to Nevada and gave it to Mark to celebrate your one year anniversary. “Wait, when did you even take that picture of me though?” He asked while looking at the picture of him spread out on a hotel bed like a starfish.

“You smacked me with your arm so I woke up and it was like, seven in the morning so I decided to just fool around and take pictures of you,” you explained with a smile on your face, “if you look in that bottom corner, you can see my foot because I had to stand over you but not too closely so my legs were like a triangle over you.”

Mark shook his head as he laughed at your antics before gently closing the book. “I love you, you know that right?” He placed a kiss on your cheek and sat back to adore you with his eyes practically sparkling.

“How could I not? I’d be worried that you may not know that I love you.” You told him playfully, setting the scrapbook aside and straddling his lap.

“Baby, that’s the last thing you need to worry about.” His voice fell into its lower ranges as he began kissing you in a way he never has before. It was on that night, the night of your first anniversary that the two of you made love for the first time in your shared campus apartment.

make me beautiful in the memories

When you brought Mark home for the holidays, your family was more than thrilled to meet him and you thanked whatever supreme being existed out there for blessing you with him. He got along well with your parents and even became a favorite of all the younger kids, especially when he joined them in making a snowman out in front of your house.

“Look y/n! Marky helped us start building a snowman!” Your younger sister exclaimed before running off once again to join some of your cousins.

You watched as Mark helped them roll the largest ball of snow around the yard until it was at least a third of his height. “Come join us y/n!” He called out. “You can get the rocks and sticks to make his arms and face.”

One of your younger cousins came by to join you as you sifted through the snow to find nice rocks to use. “When are you and Marky getting married?” He asked.

“Married? We’ve only been together for a year.” You told the little boy.

“Oh, hmm, well it’s never too early to start thinking.” He decided before finding a cute little stick that he deemed fit to function as a nose for the snowman.

You joined Mark in rolling the second ball of snow while the kids made the last one. “So what was that I heard about getting married?” He questioned.

Suddenly your cheeks felt warm and your eyes darted away from him and back to the mound of snow in front of you. “Uh, nothing, one of the kids just was asking if we plan on getting married.”

“He’s right, you know,” Mark spoke quietly, “it’s never too early to start thinking about it.”

“I mean, we’re still so young though.” You told him.

“That doens’t mean I don’t see myself having a future with you.” Mark commented as he picked up the ball of compacted snow.

“Gosh, you’re so chessy. What next? Names for our kids?” You joke as you watch him place the ball on top of the largest one at his knees.

He winked at you once the snowman had his torso complete. “Already on it.”

Spring semester was spent planning for Mark’s graduation in the following year and getting the classes for your minor arranged. His parents invited you to go with them to Hawai’i which you politely declined, as you did not know much about the people and culture and did not have time to accurately research before going thanks to all the summer classes you were taking to ensure that you’d graduate on time.

You and Mark decided to live off campus for his last year in college and though it was inconvenient to have to cook your own meals and walk a little bit further to get to school, it was all worth it when you got to make the memories you did with him.

“So you just crack the egg and drop it in the pan?” He hesitated, the said egg hovering over the edge of the frying pan.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Mark, how many times do I have to tell you? You just crack it and let it fall into the pan. It’s not that hard.”

He mocked your expression after you said ‘it’s not that hard’ as he cracked the egg into the pan, yelping at the way the oil splashed up at him. You left to freshen up a bit, having been woken up by the ruckus Mark had made in the kitchen only to come back five minutes later to another bout of him yelling for help. “What now?”

“I, uhh, I think I burned the egg.” His face was tinged with shame as you came over to the stove, sliding the egg in question onto a plate before lifting its side to see that it was indeed burnt.

“I don’t know how you manage to burn an egg after I leave you for such a short amount of time.” You tell him as you pull another one out from the refrigerator. “Here, try again. You’re lucky it’s the weekend.”

“You’re not gonna let me stop until I’ve successfully cooked an egg, huh?” You shook your head to answer his question, causing Mark to let out a sigh before going to add a little more oil to the pan.

look time fly, we fly, changes come with time

Days like that were normal for the two of you, though more often than not, you chose to order food since Mark was clearly not very trustworthy in the kitchen and you weren’t all that better yourself.

Living with Mark was not always happy and fun, though. Sometimes the two of you fought and sometimes it was over the smallest things like how he didn’t put his clothes into his hamper after changing out of them or how you’d leave your belongings strewn about the apartment.

Being with him taught you that a relationship is a two-way thing. Everyone has their flaws and if you truly love someone, you’ll learn to work with them to get solve problems that arise or get around them.

Getting to live with Mark and see him everyday was certainly a lot more convenient, especially when both of you were swamped with finals and had little to no time to go out on an actual date. Falling asleep in each others arms and waking up to the sight of the other was enough for those times. In those mornings where you woke up before Mark and didn’t want to get out of bed just yet, you took the time to be thankful for the path of life you were on and how thankful you were to have met the boy in front of you.

It was moments like those that made it all worth it.

When Mark graduated in the following spring, you sat in the crowd alongside his parents, watching him and your past classmates walk across the stage and receive their diplomas.

“Ah, he looks just the same as when he graduated from high school.” His mother commented. She even pulled up his old pictures and showed them to you, making you laugh at how cute he was back then. You could hear his voice in your head, whining about how he’s not cute but you paid it no mind.

The rush of emotion you felt when the name ‘Mark Lee’ was called and he stepped out in his cap and gown was truly something else. You stood up and cheered alongside the rest of his friends who were seated around you, the bunch of you only getting louder when his head jerked in your direction and he smiled and waved to you all.

the reason why i can be fearless is because you’re looking at me with your two eyes

“That’s going to be you next year, you know.” Mark’s father stated nodding over to where Mark was playfully chest-bumping his fellow graduates. “Okay, well not like that, but you know what I mean.”

You let out a laugh as you watched Mark stumble and nearly fall. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Do you have any plans for summer, dear?” His mother inquired.

“I have a few classes from June through July but I believe I do not have anything for the latter half of June until school starts again in August.” You informed her.

“Would you like to come along with us to Paris then? We missed you greatly last year and felt you would have enjoyed the experience more than Mark did.” She explained as she pulled up more pictures of Mark though this time it was him in a botanically garden getting scared from all the bugs. “I’ll send this one to you.”

You thanked her with a smile on your face and graciously accepted her offer to travel with them to Paris. Mark was over the moon when he heard that you’d be going with them, especially since this was going to be the first time he’d be allowed to lead the meetings and events.

It felt like school hadn’t even finished from the way you went right back to work for your summer courses and Mark got to putting together his first few projects for the company. He was intent on showing the executives that he was a fully capable individual and was not trying to simple ride off of his parents achievements. You were proud of him for that.

By the time you all got to Paris, it felt like a much needed breath of fresh air from the constant hustle of school and work. One of the first places Mark took you to was one of the local night markets near the hotel you were staying at. You pulled out your light blue polaroid camera which Mark had gotten awfully used to within these past few years and took multiple pictures of him eating street food and walking around under the stringed lights.

i need you right here

“Oh, that fountain looks kinda cool.” He exclaimed, walking out of frame.

“Mark you can’t just do that when I’m about to take your pict-”

“Yeah yeah, you can take pictures here instead. It looks prettier.” You both paused to admire the sculpting of the stone and the way the water and the coins at the bottom of the fountain glittered under the night lights. Mark sat down at the edge of the fountain after a bit. “Here, you can take them now.”

You took a few before handing of the camera to him so he could take a few of you. “Have you ever thought that this is where we’d be after all this time?” He asked after giving the camera back to you and joining you next to the fountain. “Like, back when we were freshmen, we didn’t know where we’d be within the next few years and here we are, together, three years later.”

“I think you’re jet-lagged, babe, but yeah I see what you mean.” You agreed, falling into the rhythm of the way the water spilled over from the top tier into the lower ones and out from there into the base at the bottom. “We went from clueless freshmen to young adults breaking out into the real world.”

You watched as Mark dug around in his pocket, pulling out a single coin and enclosing it in a fist. “I wish for things to stay the same- no, for us to- wait, no, I wish for us to remain happy together while facing all the challenges that our lives have to offer us.” With that, he tossed the coin into the fountain and you both followed it as it sunk to the floor.

He pulled another coin out and offered it to you. “I wish…” you began, trailing off as you thought of what more you could possibly say, “I wish for us to stay together for as long as time allows and that we will get to watch each other grow and fulfill whatever plans that life has for us.”

As your coin hit the bottom, Mark pulled you in for a hug. “I really do love you, you know.”

“Yeah I know.” You hugged him back, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

“Look at me, babe.” He whispered, causing you to glance up at him. Whatever you were about to say was cut off by Mark’s lips against yours.

It felt like nothing else mattered at that moment. Nothing except your lips against his, his arms around you, your hearts and souls connecting as one.

we go up

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 56

Masterlist

A/N: We're so close to the end, guys!!! I can't believe this is almost done.

----

The dinner has been going on for over two hours already. It is a formal event, with everyone dressed in their finery, even though there are only four people in attendance.

Nakia’s chosen successor, a woman named Zarina, died in battle three weeks ago, and now that Nakia has chosen a new successor, tradition demands that she introduce the woman to her fellow queens. She announced her choice yesterday, and now, for the five following evenings, her and her chosen heir will dine with each of the other queens in turn. With Angolere being one of the most influential human countries alongside Scythia, it is Andromache the first dinner is held with. She was allowed to bring one companion, and as her own successor, Ania, is busy elsewhere, she chose Mor.

The dinner has been a tense affair so far, though more because of the nature of the meeting than because of the company. It’s meant as an opportunity for Andromache to get to know Elmira, Nakia’s successor, and so the conversation is more of an interrogation.

“And how do you feel about the treaty for after the war we are currently working on?” Andromache asks between bites of her dessert.

Elmira shifts a bit in her seat, whether from a show of nerves or restlessness, Andromache cannot tell. Either way, diplomacy isn’t her greatest strength, as Andromache has been quick to notice. It isn’t necessarily a problem – Scythia’s main role within the human realms is traditionally a military one – but it is of concern to Andromache, whose country is far more involved in foreign relations. She needs to know how well she will be able to work with Elmira, especially since the younger woman seemed rather brash even if she tries to hide it.

“I am unsure,” Elmira says. “There are many good things about it, but I’m other parts worry me. For example, I am in favour of the freed humans being granted territories of their own, but I worry about them being so far away from each other. Our countries all border each other, but these new countries, while relatively big, will be scattered throughout Fae territory. Should they be attacked, getting help to them will be difficult.”

Andromache nods. That has been a common cause of worry amongst the human leadership, and it makes sense for someone as involved in the military as Elmira to bring it up. “And what would you propose instead?”

Elmira hesitates. Very clearly swallows the reply she had on the tip of her tongue and instead says, “I have no viable alternative, I am afraid. It’s just something we will have to keep in mind, but I don’t like how this leaves us at the mercy of the Fae.”

“A valid concern,” Andromache says. “Ideally, human and Fae countries are supposed to grow together more closely over the next years through trade and diplomatic relations.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Elmira mutters. Nakia shoots her a disapproving look and she quickly adds, “I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad idea, just very optimistic? Don’t get me wrong, I have worked with Fae in the cavalry, and they aren’t all horrible, but it’s the Loyalists who worry me.”

“We’ll certainly have to remain on our guard,” Andromache concedes. Elmira makes good points, although Andromache probably wouldn’t take her along the Alliance meetings anytime soon. “What would you suggest as possible precautions we might take?”

From there on, the conversation continues in the same manner for about half an hour. Elmira does a good enough job. She raises many valid concerns, although she tends to miss out on nuances and the reasons why certain ideas are not viable, but she always listens when Andromache corrects her, which is the important thing here. Being wrong is no problem – insisting on an opinion after having been proven wrong would be.

As the dessert is being cleared away, Elmira takes her leave so that Andromache and Nakia can discuss the meeting in private. Mor is about to leave as well, but Nakia motions for her to remain seated.

“Stay,” she says. “I have another subject to discuss with Andromache, and your input might be needed.” Mor sits back down, and Nakia turns to Andromache. “What do you think?”

“She’s talented enough,” Andromache says. “A good leader, from what I hear, and she already seems to have more talent at military strategy than me.” Elmira spent the last few years of war leading one of the flanks of Nakia’s cavalry and made quite a name for herself doing it. “She’s a bit too brash, but given time, I’m sure she will grow out of it.”

Elmira is not necessarily the choice she would have expected Nakia to make – too wild, too young, for the other queen’s taste – but Andromache has no concerns that would be major enough to withhold consent.

“If you want to choose her, you have my blessing,” she says. “But Nakia, are you sure you want to leave your country to someone this young? She’s only twenty-five.”

“I don’t exactly plan on dying tomorrow,” Nakia replies dryly. “Besides, Elmira is fully qualified. She studied and served her time in the army.” She picks up a cup of tea and takes a sip before glancing at Andromache again. “And twenty-five is the age you were when the war began, Andromache.”

Andromache sighs. She knows this and certainly doesn’t want to imply that Elmira is incompetent, or that Nakia chose badly. It’s just that Elmira is so young. It might be that Andromache first met her when she was still a teenager, but she has a hard time imagining her as a ruler.

“The age Miryam is now,” Mor adds unhelpfully, making Andromache wince.

She generally tries to ignore the fact that Miryam is actually almost seven years younger than her. Miryam certainly doesn’t act like it, and thinking too hard about it only makes Andromache feel bad about… well, a few things, really.

“Now that you mentioned Miryam,” Nakia interjects, firmly shifting the subject away from her chosen successor’s age, “that was actually the other subject I wanted to discuss. You two wouldn’t happen to know what her plan for the Black Land is, would you?”

Andromache quietly shakes her head, Mor mirroring the movement. Miryam and Drakon announced their plan to march on the Black Land earlier today, causing no small amount of confusion in the council. It is no secret that Drakon won’t ever be able to muster enough soldiers to take the Black Land, yet they didn’t request aid from the Alliance, which was enough to raise alarms with Andromache.

“Great,” Nakia says. “And you have no idea why she’s refusing the Alliance’s help either, I assume?”

“I’m sure she has a plan,” Mor says.

“It doesn’t matter how good her plan is – she should still have enough soldiers with her, if only as back-up,” Nakia replies. “She spent nine years working for this. I simply don’t believe that she would start getting cocky and throw all caution to the wind this close to the end. There’s some reason behind this, and I want to know what it is.”

“You could ask her?” Mor suggest. Her tone is just light enough that Andromache can’t quite tell if she is being ironic or not. She decides to interpret it as irony and grins at her.

“Or we could try to track down a seer somewhere and see if they can tell us. Might be more likely to get us answers.”

Nakia snorts and Mor seems hesitant for a moment before smiling back at her.

Andromache grins as well, but quickly sobers up. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she says. “I wish I could come along.”

Truth is, she doesn’t know why she is this worried. Maybe she shouldn’t be. Miryam is acting strange, yes, but it’s hardly the first time, and so far, she always got herself out of any trouble she landed in. Maybe it’s some lingering guilt for letting Miryam deal with so many parts of politics (mainly the ones Andromache doesn’t want to deal with).

Or maybe it’s because Miryam and Jurian are painfully similar, and if this story ended badly for Jurian, there’s no saying the same won’t happen to Miryam.

“You are needed in Hybern,” Nakia says. “We can’t have you running around on the other side of the Continent, and we can’t spare anyone else, either. At least not anyone Miryam would listen to.”

“I could go,” Mor says.

“You?” Nakia raises an eyebrow.

“Why not?” Mor shrugs. “I’m not really needed anywhere, Miryam and I are friends and I’m powerful enough to be able to protect her. I could make sure nothing happens to her.”

Nakia shrugs. “Good idea. Why not.”

“Yes. Thank you, Mor,” Andromache agrees.

And it is a good idea.  Mor is a brilliant fighter, more than capable of protecting Miryam if necessary, and on top of that, she’s trained enough in Continental politics to be able to possibly figure out what reasons Miryam has for not wanting anyone from the Alliance with her.

Still, Andromache is a bit uneasy about this idea. Part of it is worry for Mor, but the other part… She hates to admit it, but she doesn’t feel like Mor if best-suited to this task. The problem, she thinks, is that Mor tends to be fooled quite easily by any act Miryam puts on.

She doesn’t blame Mor, really. Miryam is very good at pretending that everything is fine and she is perfectly in control – what happened with the wall spell effectively shattered that illusion for Andromache, but it’s still easy to fall for. And anyways, it probably won’t matter at all. Chances are everything will go well and she’s just fretting needlessly.

----

The timeline for their invasion ends up being far tighter than Miryam would have liked. The spell she plans to cast (hopes she won’t have to cast) needs to be cast at a full moon, so by the time the preparations are done, they have exactly eleven days left to get to the centre of the Black Land, or at least close to it. Either that or wait another month, possibly losing their advantage in the process.

It is a right timeframe, but Sinna says that it is manageable, assuming that Ravenia will withdraw her soldiers to protect her capital instead of trying to defend the outer towns – which is likely, since the majority of Ravenia’s army is still in Erithia and she will likely want to wait for them to return before risking battle. So eleven days before the full moon, Miryam, Drakon and two thirds of the Seraphim army leave their hideout in the mountains.

They reach the border of the Black Land a day later. Mor joins them just as they set up camp, dressed in ornate golden armour and with a bag slung over her back. When she spots Miryam and Drakon, she waves.

“Nice armour,” Drakon calls out to her. It is indeed. With the breastplate inlaid with gold and the shimmering swords Drakon gave to her for her birthday, she looks truly luminescent.

Mor grins broadly and hurries over. “Thanks. My uncle gave it to me.”

Miryam arches an eyebrow. “Your uncle not only allowed you to come along to this, but also gave you this fancy armour?” She laughs. “Are you sure he wasn’t replaced by some shapeshifter?”

“Yes, well…” Mor blushes. “I may have implied that I would report back to him on… you know. Things that might interest him.”

“Ah.” Miryam tugs a strand of hair back behind her ear, smile fading. “So you’re here as his spy.”

Mor blushes an even deeper shade of red. “Sorry. Yes, kind of. But if there are things you don’t want him to know, I won’t tell him.”

Miryam looks around to see if anyone is close enough to listen. Fortunately, no one seems to be in hearing distance. What is Mor thinking to address this subject out in the open? On the other hand, her uncle’s spymaster is one of her best friends, so maybe she doesn’t need to worry about being overheard.

“It’s no problem,” she says. “I doubt you’ll stumble upon any secrets I don’t want your uncle to know during this trip, but we can still talk it over once everything is done. Just to be sure.”

Mor nods, a relieved smile spreading over her face. Fortunately, that is also the end of this rather absurd conversation as Mor turns to Drakon and begins to ask about how things are going back in Erithia.

They cross the borders that night and things go smoothly for the first couple of days. Like Sinna estimated, Ravenia decided against defending her borders with the few soldiers she has left and withdrew her army to the capital. She probably hopes that Miryam will be busy working her way through the countryside long enough for her to bring up the rest of her army from Erithia.

Unfortunately for Ravenia, the local governments of her cities don’t seem particularly happy to be serving as a distraction for an enemy army. Undoubtedly, they know what they stand to lose if they fight, and that Miryam has a reputation for being extremely lenient with anyone who agrees to let their human slaves go.

Most of the villages they reach appear to be abandoned, the citizens likely fled from the approaching army, but when they reach the first city, it already has white flags hanging from its walls. The delegation the city sends to negotiate with her is all bows and pleasantries and they nearly fall over themselves in their haste to accept Miryam’s offer.

There are well over eight thousand slaves living in the city and every single one of them makes it out unharmed.

Miryam stands and watches as they walk out of the main gate in a huge group, crowded tightly together like they hope their numbers will offer security. They look so scared. Miryam certainly can’t blame them. They may have been told that they are being freed, may have heard of Miryam, but they still see an army of Fae soldiers waiting for them when most of them have no reason to associate Fae with anything other than death and suffering.

Miryam did her best to instruct the Seraphim soldiers on how to behave around the humans in advance – unthreatening, careful, polite and respectful being the key terms. Don’t touch people without permission, make sure to be clear that requests are requests and can be refused, keep your power in check. She has faith that the Seraphim will try their best, but she certainly doesn’t expect it to work out without problems.

As it turns out, she was right. For all that she tries to help, to calm people down and mediate, she can’t be everywhere at once and wherever she looks, things aren’t quite working out. She can’t even blame the Seraphim for not doing everything quite right, even if she occasionally feels like snapping at them for speaking too loudly or not keeping enough distance. The only humans they ever spent any amount of time around are the human soldiers fighting for the Alliance – Jurian’s soldiers, for the most part - and they are anything but scared of Fae. Besides, the Seraphim are soldiers in the middle of a war being made to deal with a group of terrified civilians, which would be difficult even under normal circumstances.

She really should have found a way to bring some humans along. But all the human armies were otherwise occupied and she didn’t want to put any civilians at risk by asking them to accompany her to a war front.

The only solution, Miryam and Drakon decide after the first hour made it painfully clear that their current approach isn’t working, is to mostly split the two groups. The army camp stays an army camp, and they set up a second camp for the humans next to it to mostly run itself. Miryam lets the humans select their own leaders, and then helps them with setting up a way to run their own camp – distributing food, sewing tents, digging latrines.

From there on, things get easier. Really, Miryam should have figured out this would be the better approach right away. Of course, these humans would prefer to be able to run their own camp and organize their own lives than to be helped by a bunch of faeries they neither know nor trust. Miryam would certainly have preferred it that way if she had been in their situation.

Things continue the same way as they march on. Each new group of humans integrates itself more easily, mostly because there are other humans to help them along. Miryam meets with the leaders the humans elected thrice daily to see if any problems come up, but there are hardly any, and if there is anything, the humans usually deal with it without needing any assistance.

Miryam spends most of her time in the human camp now (usually without Drakon, who doesn’t want to intrude on the humans). There is always some fire where she can sit, some people who are happy to accept her into their company. In the beginning, they treat her with a strange almost-reverence, which is more than a little uncomfortable, but things quickly get easier. She is one of them, after all, no different than they are. She isn’t special, she just happened to be the one lucky enough to get out.

While she is with them, it is easy to forget what is about to come. She is so happy, so relieved and so proud that there are times when she finds herself forgetting entirely where they are. Now, here with her people, it is so very easy to imagine the world they will build once Ravenia is defeated, and the idea that they might lose seems outlandish. Besides, everything is going well and with each day that passes without problems, it seems more and more like this luck will last forever.

Reality rears its ugly head on the seventh day when they meet the first resistance. They reached another city, this one called Rahine, set up their camp a mile or so away from the city walls and send a messenger to the city heads.

After a bit of back-and-forth, they decide to meet in the middle ground between the army and Rahine. No guards, four people from each side meeting in the exact middle. Miryam and Drakon choose Sinna and Mor to accompany them (the decision made partially because together, they should easily be able to fend off any attackers). Rahine sends four members of the city council, all of them High Fae and all glowering even before the meeting begins.

The introductions are done quickly enough, and Miryam recites the usual terms of surrender. The members of the enemy delegation let her continue before one of them shakes their heads.

“We have no interest in your offer. We will not surrender.”

Miryam knew it had to happen sometime. Still, her stomach twists. From the first day, she was scared of what would happen when the first city resisted – of the danger it would put the humans trapped in the city in, and of what she would have to do after the battle.

“Allow me to be entirely frank,” she says, “you don’t stand a chance and we all know it. We have more soldiers than your city has people, you cannot expect to win this. The terms I offer are beyond generous. You’d be mad not to take them.”

“Better to die than to surrender to mortal scum,” one of the councilmembers hisses at her, and, as if to emphasize her words, spits at her feet.

Miryam sighs. “If this is your problem, you are free to surrender to Drakon instead. Or surrender to Mor, if a faerie isn’t acceptable either and you will only accept defeat from a fellow High Fae. I don’t particularly care as long as my demands are fulfilled.”

This is completely ridiculous and unnecessary. It doesn’t matter that Miryam knew it would have to happen – some city was bound to test her resolve before they reached Lako, the Black Land’s capital. Still, Miryam hates this, hates that she already knows that this will only ever lead to hundreds of unnecessary deaths.

“No.”

Nothing she could say will change their minds, but still, Miryam gives it one last try. “You realize,” she says, “that you are the first city to fight back, and once we’ve defeated you – which, I guarantee you, we will – we’ll have to make an example out of you.”

“We will fight,” one of the councilmembers simply says.

Miryam nods, turning back towards their camp. “Then you will die.”

----

The battle is over, the outcome as predictable as the casualties were unnecessary. Drakon’s army lost less than two hundred soldiers. Enemy casualties are at least six times as high, plus several civilian deaths. The city leaders refused to surrender far too long, way after it was already clear that they didn’t stand a chance and it caused hundreds of people to die needlessly. Even worse, their insistence to fight a hopeless battle now forces Miryam and Drakon to make an example out of them.

They sit together with Sinna in a tent outside of the city where Drakon’s soldiers are just busy securing their position. The city council is already in custody and has been brought into the Erithian camp for safety, the captured enemy soldiers have been tied up and are kept under guard. Now, all that’s left to decide is what to do with the city.

“There’s a number of options,” Sinna says. She sounds casual, but Drakon knows her well enough to see the tension in her stance. She doesn’t like this either. “You could torch the city.” Drakon flinches, and she lifts her hands. “Without the people in it, obviously. Just the buildings. Or at least get the people out and allow the soldiers to loot for a few hours if that’s what you’d prefer. The soldiers would like that, I think. Of course, executions are always an option as well, but I thought you’d rather avoid that.”

Miryam doesn’t even turn from where she is standing at the tent’s entrance, staring over at the city. Drakon can’t tell if she is listening.

Sighing, Drakon turns back to Sinna. He knows what’s expected of him: To pick one of the options and do so quickly, without a fuss, the way a good general, a good leader would. Not to flinch from a hard choice. What would you suggest? That’s what he should ask, that’s the question that won’t make him seem like a child unable to make the necessary decisions to Sinna.

But it feels so wrong. There is no practical reason why this city needs to be destroyed – it’s just punishment, a political show of power. And Drakon doesn’t think that’s a good enough reason at all. If it was necessary to save the humans living in the city, he’d do it without hesitation, but they are already freed. They aren’t facing enemies there – this is a city full of terrified civilians that completely at their mercy, and Drakon doesn’t want to be unnecessarily cruel.

Still, wouldn’t some sort of punishment be fitting? These people are slave owners, they have committed such atrocities and never once faced consequences for them. They would deserve punishment. But because there are so many of them, there is no way they can ever be punished, no way any justice can ever be just.

There just isn’t a good option. Their ideal outcome would be that no one gets hurt. They leave with the freed humans, the Fae in the Black Land get to continue on with their lives, Ravenia gets exiled. But even that isn’t just. The Fae will just get away with everything they have done. How can that be justice?

The other option though… Well, Drakon tries to tell himself that if all goes well, no one will die. They will be uncomfortable, sure, but they won’t die. (Unless something goes wrong. Unless Ravenia decides to be unreasonable. Unless the spell Miryam has planned doesn’t work the way she intended.)

There is no perfect outcome, that much is sure. But randomly punishing the people living in Rahine certainly won’t make anything better.

“Is there no other way?” He asks.

Sinna sighs through her nose. “If there isn’t some sort of retaliation for this, nothing will stop the other cities from trying to resist as well. After all, why wouldn’t they? And while I am fully aware that this war isn’t about us, many of the soldiers do feel that this is some sort of revenge for them losing their homes.” She glances at Miryam who still doesn’t seem to be listening. “I know it isn’t, of course,” he says, “but that won’t keep them from growing dissatisfied if they don’t see their enemies punished in some way.”

He knew this was pointless, of course, but still he had to ask. Now he has his answer, though, and he can’t push further. Asking once is forgivable, but doing so again, knowing he’s risking more death and mutiny, would not be a show of mercy but of stupidity.

Only what is he supposed to do next.

“I can deal with it in your stead if you’d prefer,” Sinna says. “It will bother me far less than it would bother you.”

“No, I – “

“I’ll do it,” Miryam says from her place at the tent’s entrance, finally turning to face them. She presses her lips together, face grave. “This is my war. It’s only fair that I should deal with the fallout.”

-

They hold judgement the next day, on the battlefield between the camp and the city walls. The captured soldiers have been herded into a group at the camp’s border, the other prisoners – including the members of the city council – stand a good distance away, all of them chained up. The civilians have been ordered to watch, some standing on the walls, others down below. Drakon’s soldiers are positioned throughout, making sure that no one gets any stupid ideas. (The freed humans aren’t in attendance, although many of them are watching from their own camp, a safe distance away from their former masters.)

Drakon stands at the front of the assembled crowd, flanked by Miryam and Sinna. His role in what is to come is minor – all he has to do is watch without letting on how uneasy this entire situation makes him. It should be manageable.

Miryam waits until everyone is assembled, then steps forward.

“I will not bore any of you with unnecessary introductions,” she says, “as I assume everyone knows what happened yesterday, and why we are here today. Hundreds of people died needlessly,” she says. “I assume it goes without saying that there needs to be some sort of repercussion.”

Rahine’s civilians seem to get more nervous with each word. By the time Miryam comes to the word repercussion, many of them seem downright terrified and Drakon really wishes Miryam would make it clear that she doesn’t intend to kill any of them.

“But I realize, of course, that most of the people here did not have a say in this.” She smiles in a way that can only be interpreted as mocking. “I am sure that many of you were in fact fiercely against the choice your city council made and would have ended slavery years ago already if it had been up to you.” She pauses before continuing, serious this time. “And considering that we did manage to liberate the humans living in this city, and the large majority of them is unharmed, I have chosen to be lenient.

“The only people who will be punished are those who actually made the decision to resist.” She turns to face the members of the city council. “My lords and ladies,” she says. “I believe that decision was yours. I also believe that you made it knowing fully well that you stood no chance, and thereby deliberately caused any deaths that followed. Youare therefore sentenced to death.”

Drakon had told himself that he wouldn’t look at Rahine’s nobility as their death sentence is spoken, but he still finds his eyes straying towards them. They look so shocked. Some of them manage to keep their faces blank, but most seem caught somewhere between disbelief and terror.

Most of them, this much is obvious, didn’t so much as consider this outcome. Understandably so. While it is common in the aftermath of a successful invasion to punish cities or territories that resisted, that punishment doesn’t usually hit the nobility. It is the general population that suffers, while nobles are often offered a second chance by whoever defeated them.

Drakon finds Miryam’s approach far more just. That way, at least, the punishment hits the people who actually made the choice instead of the hundreds or thousands of people who weren’t given a voice at all. Horrifying as the entire situation is, this is the most merciful option by far.

Many of Rahine’s citizens don’t seem to agree. Muttering rises amongst the people on the walls, amongst the captured soldiers. Then, one voice rings out over the rest.

“This is unjust!” Someone shouts.

The muttering dies down, heads turning, eyes searching the crowd of captured soldiers for the speaker. Hustling ensues, then, a young man steps forward. He is trembling so hard it’s visible even from where Drakon is standing, but keeps his head high.

“This is war. We were fighting for our freedom,” he says. “You don’t get to name us murders, execute us and call it justice.”

Drakon looks over to Miryam to see how she reacts. She is watching the young soldier, not a hint of anger on her face. If anything, she looks vaguely curious.

“No,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “You weren’t fighting for your freedom. You were fighting for your perceived right to own other people as property, to take away their freedom and their lives. You are murderers and deserve to be punished as such, and the fact that you don’t see that only goes to show that you refuse to acknowledge an entire group of people as people for your convenience.”

She tilts her head to the side ever so slightly. “I’m not surprised by this,” she says. “However, I still thought you might agree with my judgement, if not for the sake of what is right, then at least as some sort of retribution for what happened during the battle.” Stunned silence falls. Miryam lets a few moments pass before she abruptly turns to the chained members of the city council. “My lords,” she says with a mocking incline of her head. “Would one of you be so kind to inform these people of what terms I offered to you during our meeting yesterday?”

The lords remain silent for a moment. Most of them don’t even seem to hear her, too busy staring at the ground or looking around for some kind of help. But then, one of them lifts her head.

“You demanded we free all slaves living in and around our city,” she says. Drakon remembers her from the meeting – she was the one who spat at Miryam’s feet. “We were to allow them to take any goods they could carry as compensation and sign a contract to never own slaves again and to not offer Ravenia assistance against you.”

Miryam nods slowly. Around them, the enemy soldiers and defeated civilians begin to mutter amongst themselves. Drakon frowns slightly at them. Could they not have known what the terms for surrender were?”

“Yes,” Miryam says. “That would have been the terms.” She turns back to the soldier who first addressed her. “Far more pleasant, I think, then getting killed in battle. And you lost more than two thirds of your numbers, didn’t you?” She asks. “And over two hundred civilians on top of that. And yet, it looks to me like your city heads who sent you to die in a pointless battle, knowing you could not win, are all still alive. As are their families.”

The muttering grows louder, making it sound like Drakon is standing in the middle of an angry swarm of bees. Now, most of the people seem angrier with their own leaders than with Miryam.

“You don’t seriously mean for us to believe that you are doing this for our sakes,” the soldier says, but he sounds unsure.

“No, of course not,” Miryam says, voice hardening. “In fact, you may rest assured that I will never do anything for your sake, or that of any other slave owner. I do not wish to harm you, although that is more out of personal kindness than anything else, and you might want to thank the god of your choice for this. Still, I guarantee you that we wouldn’t be having this conversation, or any conversation at all, if you had harmed the humans living in your city.” She looks around the crowd. “You are alive because they are, and because I do not enjoy repaying suffering with suffering,” she says. “It’s simple as that.”

No one questions her this time. Drakon doesn’t know if it is because the people are angry enough at their leaders that they now agree to their deaths, or if they are scared that Miryam will have the next one to argue executed alongside them. Either way, chances are word of this will spread. If all goes well, the leaders of the next city they reach will think twice before refusing them.

The city leaders are brought up to the city walls, nooses tied around their necks. Drakon knows he should be watching – this is as much his order than it is Miryam’s – but he has little experience watching executions and isn’t sure if he’ll be able to hide his unease, so he instead keeps his eyes trained on a spot on the city walls slightly left from the soon-to-be-dead Fae.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Fae be pushed forward. The bodies twitch for a while. Drakon very stubbornly does not look. Soon enough, they fall still.

Miryam is silent for a moment longer. Then, she raises her voice into the ensuing silence. “You may take them down and see to it that they get a proper funeral,” she says and turns away without waiting to see if anyone will follow her order. Drakon follows after her.

As soon as they are in their tent, Miryam rushes over to the bowl of water that has been set out on the table. She sprinkles a bit of water in her face, then starts rubbing at her hands like she is trying to wash off some invisible stain.

“I hate this,” she finally says, voice small. “I hate having to act like this.” She spins around, water splattering to the ground, and shakes her head. Strands of hair are coming loose from her braid. “I don’t want to act so indifferent, so cruel. These people deserve it, they do, but I…” She shakes her head. “Just because they deserve death doesn’t mean I want to play executioner. But if I don’t, they’ll think me weak, and then, things will just get worse and even more people will die.”

“I know,” Drakon says softly. He is well aware that Miryam needs to show resolve now so that later, when they negotiate with Ravenia, she will take any threats Miryam makes seriously. “But it’s almost over. We’re so close to winning.”

“I know, but I’m scared,” Miryam says softly. “Of what Ravenia might do, of what I will have to do if she refuses to surrender.”

Drakon doesn’t have a response to that – it scares him as well – so he just takes her hand.

----

The next cities all surrender without a fight, so what Miryam did in Rahine must have been enough to convince the leadership of the next cities that surrendering is the smarter option. (Miryam is glad. If another city had resisted, she would have taken more drastic measures, and she is certainly glad to have avoided it.) The further they advance, the bigger their group becomes, and the bigger it becomes, the slower they travel. They started out with a few thousand Seraphim soldiers plus a few hundred people working around the army camp. By the time they approach Lako, they have almost ten times as many people, far more civilians than soldiers by now.

Even better, the further the march, the more things seem to calm down between the humans and the Seraphim. The faeries are beginning to learn what they can and cannot do, while the humans grow more confident with each day that passes without incidents, and before long, the first mixed groups are sitting together by the fire, still tense but talking.

They move as fast as the size of their group will allow. There are other cities and villages to either side of their path, but they never try to take those. Much as leaving the humans there behind pains Miryam, they need to get to the centre of the country as quickly as possible. Then, things will either work out or they won’t, and no amount of fighting they do in advance will change anything.

They make it just in time. Having marched through the night, they set camp half a day’s march away from Lako on the morning before the full moon. While her tent is being erected, Miryam finds a messenger and hands him a letter he is to deliver to Ravenia.

Miryam already wrote it long before they ever got to the Black Land, but the rules demand that she only sends her request for a meeting now that battle between their two armies seems imminent. While Miryam was simply taking city after city, it would have been up to Ravenia to initiate negotiations, but now, Miryam is free to take the initiative.

Ravenia’s answer arrives within three hours. As expected, she agrees to hold the meeting and invites Miryam and Drakon to the palace come sunset.

Miryam nearly sags with relief. Had Ravenia decided to only receive them tomorrow, she would have had a problem. Holding the meeting before the full moon is vital to Miryam’s plan. Well, perhaps not vital, but it will make things easier in the long run if the assembled Black Land nobility heard the offer she made Ravenia as well as the queen’s refusal. Besides, she really wants to at least offer a surrender before having to resort to more drastic measures to get what she wants, even if she doesn’t truly believe Ravenia will take it.

There isn’t much left to do in preparation for the meeting, so Miryam and Drakon invite Sinna, Nephelle and Mor to their tent for a late lunch. It’s a light lunch, mostly vegetables and some corn bread to go with them. Still, Miryam only picks at her food, eats a few bites but hardly tastes it.

“So,” Mor says. “This is it.” She sits cross-legged on her pillow, golden hair tumbling loose over her back, and is currently wolfing down her second helping.

“Looks like it.” Miryam pushes a piece of paprika from one side of the plate to the other.

“Now that we are here, are you finally going to tell us what you have planned for when the negotiations go wrong?” Sinna asks.

Miryam shakes her head, even knowing that she isn’t being entirely reasonable. But she is nervous enough already, and having to talk her plan through with people who might not agree, possibly getting into an argument over it, will only make it worse. Besides, there is always the risk of being overheard.

Sinna must be thinking about that as well, because she rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. Miryam returns to pushing her food around on her plate, leaving Mor, Nephelle and Drakon to hold the conversation, the latter evidently distracted as well.

After half an hour, Miryam gives up on her attempt to eat anything and pushes her plate towards Sinna who already finished her food. “Want mine?” She asks.

“Sure.” Sinna quickly switches their plates and starts wolfing down Miryam’s food as well.

“Are you sure you don’t want anyone to come along when you go to the meeting?” Mor asks. She had been eying Miryam’s uneaten food, worry drawing lines onto her face, and now looks up at Miryam.

“All the guards in the world won’t be able to protect us if Ravenia decides to attack us in the middle of her palace,” Miryam says. The words draw even deeper lines onto Mor’s face and she is quick to add, “She won’t, though. She’s far too attached to her particular brand of honour.”

Drakon nods. “We met with her before, and she never did anything.”

That settles the matter. Mor refills everyone’s glasses, then sits back down in her chair.

Sinna, Nephelle and Mor leave two hours before sunset, leaving Miryam and Drakon to get ready alone. They do so in silence, each occupied with their own thoughts. Miryam assumed she would be shaking with fear, but somehow, she is strangely calm, almost distant. She spent so long working towards this moment – it finally being there feels just as unreal as the idea of marching straight into Ravenia’s palace.

Drakon is quicker to finish dressing up, but his clothes are less complicated. Miryam chose a human dress, long-cut and with lots of layers, and she ends up needing his help to get into it. She vastly prefers the more modest human fashion to the revealing dresses the Fae tend to favour, although she usually wore Fae fashion to any political meetings. No longer, though. She is past the point of needing to play by their rules, and today, she doesn’t want to dress up as a faerie.

With half an hour to spare until sunset, they leave their tent. Both Seraphim and humans stop to stare as they walk towards the edge of the wards surrounding the camp. It seems like word of where they are going has already gotten around. Miryam takes Drakon’s arm and he winnows them both away.

They reappear one of the inner courtyards of Ravenia’s palace, one of the only places you can winnow into and reserved for foreign dignitaries. There are guards standing all around, hands on their weapons, but they make no move to intercept them. Still, just being back here is enough to make Miryam’s earlier calm evaporate. She grips Drakon’s arm a tad harder and can feel him tense as well.

One of the guards steps forward, their face obscured by a helmet, and inclines their head. “You may proceed to the throne room,” he says. No address. Chances are he isn’t sure which of them to address first, or how to address Miryam at all. “Her majesty says you know the way.”

Miryam gives him a curt nod and brushes past him towards the door leading into the palace. Ravenia likely meant to insult her by not sending an escort to bring her to the throne room, but she actually did her a favour. At least this allows Miryam a few moments to catch her footing before she faces the throne room.

The hallways they walk through are deserted, not a single Fae or human to be seen. Miryam glances over at Drakon who is walking next to her, wishing she could have kept holding his arm. She badly wants to say something to him, but she doesn’t doubt for one moment that they are being watched.

They pass the door leading down to the dungeon and Drakon’s steps falter. He pulls his wings closer to his body as he stares at the door. Miryam decides that she doesn’t particularly care if anyone watches and puts a light hand on his arm. Drakon tears his eyes away from the door.

“It’s fine,” he whispers, straightening. Miryam nods and they continue on towards the throne room.

There are two guards posted in front of the huge double doors. They do not stop Miryam and Drakon, merely reach for the doors, moving in perfect unison, and pushing them open.

Nervousness quickly shifting to fear, Miryam has to force herself to keep walking, to not pause in the doorway and take in the throne room she hasn’t seen in almost nine years. Back straight, pace unhurried, she walks through the doors and into the throne room, Drakon following half a step behind her.

She resists the urge to look around the throne room as she makes toward the dais, instead keeping her eyes trained on Ravenia. From what she can see from the corner of her eye, though, the room hasn’t changed much since she has last been here. The murals and carvings on walls and pillars are still the same, as are the courtiers. Fashion seems to have changed a bit, moving towards looser clothes, but the faces are familiar. Everything is just like she remembers.

She wishes it wasn’t. Maybe if everything looked different, this would be easier.

With each step she takes, her body seizes up further. Every instinct is screaming at her to cower, to duck her shoulders and bow her head. She manages to keep her back straight, but her posture ends up far too rigid and she doesn’t dare relax for fear of losing control of her body. Even her power seems to have disappeared, like it’s hiding from the woman sitting on the throne at the other side of the throne room.

This was a mistake. On neutral ground, she might be able to face Ravenia, but this is the heart of Ravenia’s territory. Here, Miryam doesn’t know how to be anything but a terrified slave girl.

She stops in front of the throne, just below the dais. Ravenia is lounging on her throne, absent-mindedly picking up dates from a plate a human slave holds out to her. All the while, though, her dark eyes remain focused on Miryam.

Drakon, who stopped half a step behind her, shifts a bit closer to her, either sensing her discomfort or feeling uncomfortable himself. His presence calms Miryam a bit – at least enough that she no longer feels like bolting.

“Go on, then,” Ravenia finally says, sounding almost bored. She crosses her legs at the ankle and rests her chin on her hand as if to show the entire world that she finds Miryam and Drakon only marginally more interesting than two bugs crawling at her feet. “Say what you have come to say.”

Miryam swallows. Her eyes travel away from Ravenia and towards the group of human children standing behind her throne. (Ti, the human boy they met when they were freeing Drakon, isn’t among them. Miryam didn’t expect him to be – she knows how quickly Ravenias slaves tend to die – but it still stings.)  All of them have their heads bowed, eyes downcast. Miryam could easily imagine herself standing there in their place.

The silence drags on too long. Miryam knows it is up to her to say something now, but the words won’t form. Behind her, the court begins to whisper, clearly wondering why she isn’t saying anything. She has to say something, but she just can’t –

“We’re here to accept your surrender,” Drakon says. Miryam makes to turn around to him, then stops herself.

Ravenia’s mouth twists into a smile and she lets out a soft laugh, her court quickly falling in. “Have you, now?”

It should have been Miryam answering Ravenia’s challenge, Miryam stating their demands. Damnit, this is not the time for her to start messing up. She breathes in. Breathes out and looks around the room, searching for something that might steady her.

What she finds is dozens of humans watching her. They are standing by the walls of the throne room, all of them dressed in servants’ clothes. And all of them are staring at Miryam, eyes wide and shining with hope.

They believe in her. They trust that she’s going to free them.

For them, Miryam can be brave.

Slowly, she looks back at Ravenia. “The terms the Alliance offers to you are favourable,” she says, actually managing to keep her voice even. “You will free every single slave living in your country and sign a contract that the Black Land will never again practice slavery. Every human will receive a certain amount of money or other goods as compensation, and a proportional part of the Black Land will be given to the humans to live in under sovereign human rulership. As for you…” Miryam falters, choking on the next words.

You will be allowed to live. Those are the terms she is to offer to Ravenia. She will be exiled, never to return to the Continent, but she will live, and this, Miryam isn’t sure she can bear.

She wants Ravenia to die. She wants her to die the way Clythia did, painful and slowly, and then, she wants her body burned, the ashes strewn into the wind, the bones dumped into the ocean. For what Ravenia has done, to her and so many others, she deserves that and worse. And Miryam cannot bear the idea that she will instead spend her time in exile on some pleasant little island, tended to by servants, while Miryam wakes up screaming every night for the rest of her life.

But this isn’t about revenge. It isn’t about Miryam at all. The reason she is here is to free her people, to get them out of this alive. That is the only thing that matters, the only goal she can consider. What does it matter if she will spend the rest of her life feeling Ravenia’s shadow looming as long as she manages that?

“You will abdicate,” Miryam continues. The words burn in her throat. “And you will be sent to exile. You will never again step foot on the Continent, but you will be allowed to live.”

If Ravenia is smart, she will take the offer. For a war like this, it’s highly unusual to allow the leader of the losing side to live. The only reason the exile is being offered is that Miryam knows that Ravenia would never take a deal that includes her own death.

“And you expect me to take this offer?” Ravenia asks lightly, as if she is amused by the mere idea. It seems her strategy for this meeting is to make it abundantly clear to the entire world that she doesn’t care what Miryam has to say, doesn’t take her seriously at all.

Not smart, then.

Some courtier behind Miryam snickers. She ignores it. Let them laugh. Should Ravenia refuse the surrender Miryam is offering, their laughter will die soon enough.

Today, they might mock Miryam, might laugh at the foolish mortal who dares challenge their leader. A few days from now, it will be Ravenia they think a fool for not taking the offer when she had the chance. Miryam gives them five days at most until they hate Ravenia for being too proud to surrender.

“You should,” Miryam says. “You won’t get a better one.” Slowly, she starts walking towards Ravenia. The guards standing in front of the throne tense but make no move to stop her. “You’ve lost, Ravenia,” she says softly. “I have beaten you at every turn. My Alliance has defeated your Loyalists, more of your allies surrender to me every day, your High Witcher is dead at my hands. I told you that you would lose, that you could only ever lose, that I would win against you, and I have. I also told you I would destroy you. I suggest you take my offer now, or I can guarantee you, I will do that as well.”

Now, no one is snickering anymore. Ravenia is still lounging on her throne, but her posture no longer seems relaxed. It’s more like she is frozen in place. After a moment, she stirs.

“A nice little speech,” she says. “I might even be impressed, if only you had the soldiers to back it up.” She offers a small smile. “Really, Miryam, if you were going to sell yourself for an army, you should have picked someone who at least has enough soldiers to pose a threat to me.”

Drakon tenses, but Miryam ignores the jab. It is a cheap attempt to get a rise out of her and as far as she is concerned, it isn’t worth a reply. Does Ravenia really think unfitting slavery-allusions will be enough to get her to snap.

“What makes you think I need an army at all?” She asks instead.

Now, Ravenia laughs outright. “You grossly overestimate how scared I am of you,” she says.

Miryam shrugs. Let her laugh. “This is over, Ravenia. You cannot be too blind to see it. Just take the offer while you still can.”

Not quite daring to breathe, she stares at Ravenia. Say no. The thought comes unbidden but all the stronger for it. Come on. Give me an excuse.

A heartbeat later, Miryam’s mind catches up and guilt rises, strong enough to drown out the anger. What is she thinking? She knows what will have to happen if Ravenia refuses, the lives that will be at risk and the ones that will be lost. No revenge in the world can ever be worth this. She didn’t mean that. She didn’t.

Ravenia rises. Slowly, she walks over the dais towards Miryam until there’s only a few feet separating them. Miryam resists the urge to take a step back and instead stares unflinchingly back at her.

“There seems to be some confusion on your part, so let me be entirely clear,” Ravenia says. Her voice is soft, but in the silent room, she might as well have shouted for how loud her voice rings. She takes another step towards Miryam who remains standing where she is – whether out of bravery or fear, she can’t say. “I will kill every single human under my rule before I let a single one of them walk free.”

“Is that your answer?” Miryam asks. Her voice is a tad breathless; her heart is thundering in her chest.

“Yes.” The word snaps through the room like a whip.

Miryam nods. “Then what comes next is on you.” With that, she turns around and walks back to Drakon. He nods to her and together, they walk back through the throne room. At the door, Miryam pauses and turns back to face the assembled crowd.

“Remember,” she says to no one in particular, “that I made the offer. Some of you might wish to reconsider your stance soon enough.”

----

The moon is full tonight. It hangs high in the sky as a silver orb, not a cloud to be seen, casting its cold light down on the sand below. It is the only one to watch as Miryam and Drakon walk away from the noise and activity of the army camp and out into the desert surrounding it. They’ve ordered their guards to stay behind, ignoring their complaints. For what’s about to come, it’s better if they are alone.

Miryam could have gone entirely alone, of course, but she wasn’t quite brave enough for it. She doesn’t want to be alone for this. Besides, should she lose control, Drakon is probably the only one who stands a chance of talking her down.

Miryam turns to him now. “You know what you’re going to do if things go badly?” She asks.

“I think it works best if I improvise,” Drakon says. The ghost of a smile flickers across his face. “A pity there aren’t any mountain goats around.”

Miryam laughs shakily. “If you’re lucky, you’ll find some antelopes.” She stops and looks around. They have reached a small river, branching off the bigger Klei river that supplies the entire Black Land with water. “Here, I think,” she says and lets the bag she packed slide off her shoulder.

She brought all of her spellcasting supplies, candles and bones, gemstones and salt. She takes care when setting up the circle, checking the position for each piece twice and drawing the symbols with steady hands. It takes twice as long as usual, and by the time she is done, her left arm is entirely stained in blood. Miryam double-checks everything one last time, then turns to Drakon. He has been sitting in the sand outside of the circle, watching, but now, he rises.

“Ready?” He asks.

Miryam nods, unable to speak. He nods back.

“You’ll manage,” he says. “I know you will.”

Miryam nods again. She has to manage. There is no other plan to fall back on.

A whispered word activates the circle. The flames flicker to life all at once, the gemstones start glowing. The moon has reached its zenith now, and Miryam can almost taste the power in the air.

She closes her eyes and thinks back to the throne room. Then, she pushed the memories away, locked them up. Now, she asks them in. For the first time, she truly allows herself to remember, remember each moment of pain and despair and suffering, all the death and blood. It hurts. It hurts so badly that she feels she might fall apart, but pain is fuel, as is the anger that comes next.

So Miryam lets herself burn, hotter and brighter. Only when she is so full of pain and anger that she feels she might combust right there, she opens her eyes and begins to speak.

The beginning of the spell is unusual. Normally, you start with a demand, some kind of declaration for what you want. This time, though, Miryam begins with a story. She begins with a feeling.

The strings quiver around her, shaken by the force of her emotions, waiting for her to tell them why she calls upon them. She bids them to listen. The story she tells isn’t a pleasant one. She speaks of death, of suffering and pain. Of injustice and slavery. Blood drips from her hand into the sand as she speaks, swallowed up far more quickly than natural; the words burn her throat.

Around her, the strings grow restless. Tell us what you want, they seem to ask, confused, but it isn’t them Miryam is talking to.

Under Miryam’s feet, a tremor seems to run through the ground. More and more strings manifest, glowing in the air around her, and Miryam feels like something is rising around her, watching, waiting. The power in the air increases until it feels like tons of stone are pressing down on her, until a frantic energy runs through her body.

Miryam barely dares to breathe. It’s working. It is truly working. She has called – and the land is answering.

The Fae might claim this land, this world, belongs to them, but it doesn’t. Maybe it belongs to the humans, or maybe it belongs to no one at all, but either way, it has a memory. And this land is drenched in human blood, its earth bursting with their suffering, the sand full of skeletons of humans. Their anger lingers, as does their pain, a restless energy that has never been let loose.

It remembers. It recognizes the story Miryam tells. And it answers.

She could have sworn there are eyes watching her. It is a comforting thought – that all these humans who came before her are here, watching her, helping her. Maybe finally getting their revenge.

The strings are still waiting, impatient. There are more of them than Miryam has ever seen, the air so full that Miryam can no longer make out her surroundings. Miryam pauses for a moment to look around, to take in the power thrumming through the air, the anger and pain cursing through her, echoed by the land.

Miryam draws her knife from her belt and runs it over her arm, causing fresh blood to well up. It drips into the sand, red on gold, and the earth that is so drenched in human blood already rumbles in answer. Miryam can’t tell if it’s truly the spirits of dead humans answering or the land itself, but whatever it is, it is angry. It has had enough.

When Miryam finally makes her demand, the strings jump to do her bidding. They move into place more easily than ever before. All it takes is for Miryam to nudge them and they move into the right direction, the land still rumbling under her feet.

It’s so easy. Miryam doesn’t need to turn the land against the Fae because it already hates them. Its anger overshadows even her own, the sum of millions of people, millennia of suffering. All she needs to do is point its anger into the right direction, tell it what to do, weave helpless fury into a plan.

The power around her surges. Miryam is vaguely aware that there is blood running out her nose, out of her eyes and ears. Power is thrumming through her, drenched in pain and anger and a revenge that never happened.

Again, blood runs down Miryam’s hand and drips into the sand. This time, it isn’t swallowed by the earth. Instead, more blood seems to well up from there, like a great wound is bleeding under Miryam’s feet. It runs over the sand in a small stream until it reaches the river below.

The water turns red. It spreads far more quickly than blood normally should. Miryam blinks once and the stream is entirely red, like the earth is spitting out all the blood it had to soak up over the years. It runs down the small river, turning it red as it goes, until it reaches the river Klei. From there, it continues to spread.

By the time the circle around Miryam flickers out and she slides to the ground, Drakon rushing over to catch her, every stream and river in the Black Land is already running red with blood.

----

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @femtopulsed @aileywrites

[stayforya]

SPRING DAY | MIN YOONGI

member: min yoongi

genre: soulmate!au

words: 7.9k

summary: from the moment you said hello to the moment you teared apart, from winter to spring – you never stopped thinking about each other, not even a day.

a/n: every time I listen to spring day, I can imagine many scenarios and this is one of them. long time friends/lovers who keep meeting again because life doesn't seem to want them apart.

spring, 5 years ago

spring is one of the most beautiful seasons. after a long, cold and monochromatic winter, the flowers start to bloom, the trees become green again and the fresh air and bright sun breathes life into people’s faces. you were going through a good moment – finally started college, met new people, got into a whole new world. even though you weren’t very good at starting things over, the challenging feeling would always be worth it in the end and you were quite excited about the unknown this time. the idea of ​​how unexpected life is and how the little moments of today can become decisive in the future has given you a sense of "destined to be". the random person you partnered with for an assignment in the first few weeks of school was now your best partner, for instance. 

later that day, you finished everything you had to do. in the front courtyard of the university, the cherry blossoms were blooming and some petals even fell due to the strong wind that blew every now and then. it was a romantic setting, some couples were walking and hugging, some people (like you) were watching or reading books under the trees, and a few others seemed to be living a decisive moment on a beautiful day. a day like that didn't go well with breakups, but the couple sitting on the bench a few meters from where you were seemed to be going through a difficult time.

“just tell me right away. you’re letting me go because you found a better one, isn’t it?”, his voice was stable and calm, as if he wasn't sad. but his face showed something else, he barely looked at the woman beside him.

“where would I find someone better than you? listen, what I’m saying is that we are both going through a hard time”, she explained, gesturing a lot.

“we are not going through a hard time in this relationship. our issues come from college, job, these kind of stuff. but between us, isn’t it all fine?”

she remained silent, no longer looking at him but at her own hands on her legs. you felt weird for listening to that conversation while keeping your head hidden behind the book you were reading.

“my family and I have other plans for me now. I’m going abroad”, the woman said. that made the guy immediately look at her, probably looking for answers in her face, but all he could find were more questions.

“so why are you creating excuses? why didn’t you say it right away?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you! and I am hurting too”, she was actively defending herself as if she was being wrongly accused.

“are you? are you really? I am almost graduating and I have no steady job, but I would move heavens and earth to find anything that would make you feel safer with me. I was ready to give you whatever you needed.”

his words were so sincere she started to cry. you could see the tears falling down from her big eyes and his hands reaching hers. she didn’t let him touch her hand because she reached out for a hug, holding him closer not to keep him, but to say goodbye. you didn’t know if he still had hope, if he was still waiting for her to change her mind and stay with him.

“you can’t give me what I need, yoongi. I’m sorry”, she said looking into his small and sad eyes that didn’t shed a tear.

“will you come back?”, he asked.

she shook her head in denial, “I still don’t know. don’t wait for me, though, you’ll find someone better.”

he didn’t say anything else while she stood up and left. he also didn’t look her way again, maybe because it would make the moment even harder. by the way his face seemed unbothered, you knew he was the type that hurts inside. the type that wanted her to stay, even though he didn’t ask for it directly. you spent the rest of the day thinking about this couple, the reasons that made her go away. as a believer, you know everything happens for a reason and you were dying to know how that love story would lead to the other chapters of that couple’s life. it was just your common habit, to imagine what fate had prepared for people, how moments interconnected and how paths could cross again. you always think about it, always about others, never about you. 

didn't fate have something ready for you too?

winter, 5 years ago

rainy days were great... when you were home. to go out in the pouring rain could be very annoying, considering what the wet weather makes to your hair and how tricky it is to run under the rain. as if you didn't know that, you still left home late. you had this very important presentation about modern art at the fine art department, which was open to the public. thankfully, there would be many other presentations happening at the same time as yours and the rain could make people give up going. the auditorium was reasonably full when you arrived. there were fifteen minutes to go and your professor was already looking at her watch impatiently when she saw you walk through the doors.

“I thought you wouldn’t come!”

“I’m sorry, ms. lee. the rain didn’t help at all”, you sighed, putting your bag on the table. “is everything ready?”

“yes, we still have some time. here”, she handed you a bottle of water. she was a great professor. that presentation wasn't the easiest thing you had done in life (in fact, it was very challenging), but she believed you when she chose you after a classroom presentation. and when someone believes in you, you must also believe in yourself. 

during the remaining fifteen minutes, more people arrived and you went up the stairs to the auditorium stage. your heart was beating so hard that you could only hear the blood pumping. talking about modern art is a pleasure to you. from the historical to the visual – when the pictures appeared on the big screen behind you –, it was like immersing yourself in the painters' minds. all you wanted to do was to transmit some passion on to those who were watching the presentation, because that is exactly what you feel when you are studying the fascinating world of art.

and so you did. you didn’t have more than thirty minutes to say everything you wanted to say, but it went just like you rehearsed a hundred times at home. it was fascinating to see some unknown faces enjoying the historical and visual travel you tried to communicate through the images stamped on the big screen. after you, someone else would present too for the next thirty minutes, so you sat down to watch and breath again, feeling as if a heavy weight was taken off your back.

“what is the next presentation about?”, you whispered to your colleague. 

“it’s about the relationship between music and art”, he gave you the flyer of the event. you found your photo there, along with all the people who would be presenting that week, schedules and themes. you were too focused on that flyer, but when classical music reached your ears, your attention went directly to the stage.

the man on the stage was wearing all black clothes. the turtleneck shirt, the coat on top of it and the glasses made him look like a professor, but you knew that everyone who was presenting was still a student. he spoke smoothly, which perfectly matched what he was talking about and made the entire auditorium pay attention not to miss a word. somehow that spell was hitting you too. you had studied a lot what you needed to say, but the way he spoke seemed like he had already been born knowing everything. it was a relief that he took the stage after you and not before.

after all, everyone got up and started to leave the auditorium. the organizing team, however, remained there and so did you. the turtleneck guy (you decided to call him like that) was there, still talking to two people who went to ask him questions after the presentation. you were also finishing a brief conversation with a girl very interested in modern art.

ms. lee called you and you immediately answered. she wanted to thank everyone for the hard work, as she always did. you saw the turtleneck guy approaching the group too.

“it was great, everyone! we shall do it again”, the whole group smiled. “of course I need to thank the team from music department, thank you for joining us and bringing so much content to today’s meeting. mr. min, your professor must be very proud of you.”

it seemed like everyone knew who mr. min was, you were the last one to find out by looking at the same direction as ms. lee. the turtleneck guy was mr. min and it sounded even more sophisticated.

“thank you, ms. lee”, he formally thanked while a shy smile appeared on his lips. you wondered if you were overanalysing him, since you couldn’t lose any opportunity of looking at him, mainly because his face was somehow familiar. 

you didn’t know you’d do what you did next until you already had done. when everyone started to leave the auditorium, you followed mr. min-turtleneck for some reason.

“congratulations on your presentation”, he looked back to find out who was the owner of the voice. it was okay to say that, right? you and him were the ones who presented something, so it was perfectly okay to congratulate him.

“oh, thank you. congratulations on yours, too”, it was kind of... nonchalant. or maybe you were expecting more, even though he didn't say more than this to anyone else during the last minutes. 

he kept walking and you stood in the hall, wondering if you should walk into another auditorium to attend a lecture or just go home. the rain hadn’t ceased, you could see through the big glass doors of the building, and your professor and colleagues had gone somewhere else, but you had already lost sight of them. you walked to the glass doors to watch the rain while you waited for it to stop. it wasn't like you had nothing to do, you just weren't in a hurry to get home.

your phone was ringing non-stop because of the messages, which you read and replied quickly. the ideal for that post-presentation night was to go out with your friends, eat something, have fun. however, everyone was busy or traveling, so you would have to deal with an evening alone watching netflix and eating chips (which wasn't too bad, honestly).

you felt a human presence next to you, but you were too absorbed in watching the rain to look at the person. only when you heard the sound of someone putting up an umbrella, you redirected your attention. about to step out of the building, there he was: mr. min. you swear you looked at him for only two seconds, but it was enough for him to notice and look back at you. you didn’t avoid eye contact, though, because it would be more awkward and, honestly, you didn’t know what to do when the whole hall was empty, leaving you and him alone.

“do you have an umbrella?”, he asked. the words ran out your mind for a moment.

“I don’t”, you answered. it would definitely be easier to say you did, so the conversation would be over and your mind would be at ease again, because your brain was working so hard you didn’t understand what was going on. was it because he was a very smart guy and you were scared to sound stupid?

“do you want to...”, he didn’t finish the sentence and you felt so much better to see he was feeling awkward to say that too. mr. min was pointing to his own umbrella with his head, which meant he was willing to help you get to the bus station or wherever you were going.

“it’s fine, I can wait.”

“it doesn’t seem like it will stop anytime soon...”

you looked at him for a while and shrugged, “fine”. you were proud of yourself, since you seemed calm and unconcerned by the way you responded . your brain rested a little now that the situation was under your control, but it didn't take long for you to feel tense again. he wouldn't borrow the umbrella, he would go with you under it, and the space seemed too small. “you can leave me at the bus stop”.

the whole one minute walk was silent. when you reached the bus stop, you were ready to say goodbye and thank him for the help. however, he didn’t leave, he put down the umbrella and stood there.

“it’s okay, you can go if you want to...”

he looked at you, confused, “go? where?”

you were as confused as him. “wait, will you wait for the bus too?”

“yes. why did you think I was here?”, his tone was calm, but you felt your face warming slowly as if you said something wrong. “wait, did I sound harsh?”, there was a bit of concern in his voice.

“no”, you giggled. 

“oh. I thought I made you blush because I sounded harsh.”

“huh? you didn’t- forget it”, you gave up and he smiled, not looking at you. you just stood there, waiting for the bus. it took about five minutes, but it felt like forever because you and mr. min were in complete silence. by the way, calling him ‘mr. min’ was starting to sound weird now that you saw a glimpse of his sense of humor.

when the bus arrived, he started to move and you noticed he was about to get on. he was closer to the door, so he got on first and sat on the chairs at the back. the bus was almost empty, just you, him and three people sat separately. where would you sit? would it be weird to sit far from him after getting to know him, or it would be better to sit next to him since you got to know him? it was pretty confusing and you had to think quickly. 

he was looking through the window when you sat by his side, unbothered by your presence. you were feeling stupid for sitting there and for the fact that your heart was beating faster than it should in this situation. why was that, though? maybe because of the mysterious vibe he had and how he started to show a glimpse of his personality when he joked about you blushing.

you knew breaking the silence was the only way to make it less awkward. “are you going home?”

“no, I’ll meet some friends”, he said, looking at the watch on his left arm. you never noticed watches a lot, for you they were just essencial items. but looking at his left arm, relatively close to yours, that silver watch was shining and his hands were so beautiful. you scolded yourself for paying attention to those details, after all, it would only lead you to have a crush on someone who had a high chance of never seeing you again. “you?”

“I’m heading home”, you felt his eyes indirectly looking at you. 

“you don’t seem very excited about it”, he said and you still felt his eyes on you. he was looking at your arms holding your bag, because you two were a little too close to look at each other’s faces.

“I am not, indeed. I’ll just buy food and watch a nice christmas movie”

“so, netflix and-”

“stop there, just netflix”, you interrupted him immediately because you didn't know if he would complete the sentence. he laughed after he understood what you were saying.

“I was just going to say netflix and eat”, discreetly, he raised his hands in surrender. “what are you planing to watch?”

you shrugged, “anything, from the grinch to a cliche rom-com.”

“it sounds fun, though”, he started to look at the window again.

“you don’t look like someone who watches the grinch or cliche rom-coms”, you said.

“it depends. I think everyone needs to watch movies like these once in a while.”

“and christmas time seems like the perfect time to watch them.”

“exactly”, he agreed. it didn't look like he was the serious person who was giving a lecture an hour ago, because of the way he managed to get from that to someone talking about fun movies with a stranger on the bus, and that said a lot about him. “oh, I gotta go”

the bus slowly stopped close to a busy street full of restaurants and people. he stood up and looked at you before the door opened.

“I’m yoongi, by the way”, he said.

“I’m y/n. nice to meet you”, you smiled without much excitement, a little disappointed because he was getting off the bus. 

summer, 4 years ago

it was finally summer time, the sun was bright and high in the sky. you felt it warming your skin and it felt good, because it was time to have fun. your friends called, wondering where were you. they were waiting for you at a restaurant, with some other friends of them and people you probably didn’t know yet. but to be honest, you were excited. it was summer, time to have fun and enjoy. plus, you were free for that day and the whole weekend too.

you entered through the front glass doors, thankful for the cold air conditioner that reduced the heat, because the day was really hot outdoors. your friend raised her hand, signaling where they were, and you walked to the table. there were ten people there, most of them you didn’t know but already had seen before.

you sat next to your other friend and she immediately asked if you wanted to eat something. you said yes, while she started to introduce you to everyone, but then your eyes met someone else’s. his eyebrows raised discreetly and you tilted your head to the left, trying to understand if you were really seeing what your eyes were witnessing. 

“we know each other”, he said when your friend said his name and yours, introducing both of you.

“really?”, she was surprised and glad at the same time. the way her eyes looked at yours said something, you immediately remembered: she said you and one of her friends definitely should meet, because you two would match well. was it him?

“yeah, we met before. it’s good to see you again”

“you too”, he said and then everyone started side conversations. he was sitting in front of you, which made him comfortable to talk a little bit more. “did you watch the grinch?”

“hm?”, you almost choked on what you were drinking, “you didn’t forget, right? actually I watched it and other two movies that night.”

“oh, it was a long night, then”, he took a sip of his drink.

“yep, it was”, you took a sip too.

when all of you left the restaurant, the sun was almost setting and the weather was much better. each would go their own way, some as a couple, others among friends and others alone. your two friends were accompanied by their boyfriends, but they still asked if you would like them to go home with you. you said you would be fine, you wanted to buy some stuff before going home, anyway. 

“didn’t you like him?”, one of them asked.

“who? yoongi?”

“yeah, he’s the guy I mentioned, the one that matches you well.”

you laughed, “no, forget it. but he’s nice.”

“well, you should give it a shot...”, she shrugged and smiled. yoongi said goodbye to his friends and walked up to you with his hands in his pockets. there were only you and him behind everyone else. 

“are you going to ride the bus?”

you looked at him quickly, “no, I’ll buy some stuff before.”

he nodded and didn’t say anything else, which forced you to speak again to keep the conversation going. you wanted to talk to him.

“and you?”

“I have nothing to do right now.”

“is this your way of offering to go with me?”

“excuse me?”, he looked at you and smiled. you noticed you were smiling too, because looking at his face made you smile for no reason. “if you want me to go, just ask.”

“I want you to come with me. what about it?”

“I will go with you, thanks”, he was acting so cool you laughed at his attitude.

walking around with yoongi wasn’t supposed to be that fun – at least you didn’t expect it to be. he helped you to find nice sneakers, laughing at the ones that didn’t fit your style at all. he went to the makeup store with you, giving an opinion on everything you tested (but his opinion wasn’t always valid because, when it comes to makeup, he said all of them looked good on you). 

“do you want to eat something?”, you asked, “you must be hungry.”

“nah, we have been walking for just four hours”, he exaggerated and made you laugh. you were walking just for one hour and a half, maybe.

“is that so boring to walk around with me that it feels like four hours?”, you pretended to be offended, but he hesitated for a second, as if reflecting on what he said before. “I’m just kidding”, you said.

“you really got me thinking for a second”, yoongi said and you two laughed for real. when you laugh with someone, it's like a connection is created between you. that's exactly what happened, and because of that connection, the two of you were closer, including physically. if at the beginning of the meeting you were a little far away, respecting the space, at that moment you could already feel your hand touching his when the bags you were holding hit the ones he was holding.

yoongi said he knew a nice place to stop by and eat, so you told him to take you there. it was a lovely cafe with a pleasant atmosphere, and he guided you to the second floor, where there were fewer people and more space to be at ease. he asked for the bag that was in your hand, added it to the bag that was in his and placed it near you.

“I’ve never been here, it’s nice”, you said.

“I come here mostly by myself, it's a quiet place to work. and the food here is great”, yoongi looked through the glass wall, through which you could see the street.

“and you work with music”, you guessed it from the lecture months ago.

“yes, I do”, he smiled slightly, but with satisfaction. you could tell he was looking even more cute at that moment under that light. “I like it very much, to be honest. but tell me about you too”

“what do I do? I am still studying art and now working with it. an internship”, you said.

“by the way you spoke at that lecture, I’m sure you’re doing amazing”, he said, but didn’t look directly at your face. the way yoongi was confident at some moments and shy at other ones made you smile every time.

the conversation was interrupted by the person bringing the orders. you thought you both would eat in silence, but none of you could stop talking. he asked more about you, and you answered, also asking about him. it was obvious how you two wanted to know each other in a short amount of time, as if at the end of the date you would part ways for a long time, like before.

you liked when he laughed at what you said, because it felt like winning an award. yoongi was deeply into that conversation, almost forgetting to eat the cake you two were sharing.

“if you don’t eat, I’ll do it”, you said.

“I’m full just by watching you eat”, he said and you giggled immediately, “was it too cringy?”, he laughed too.

“no, it wasn’t”, you knew your eyes said it all. you were having way too much fun.

yoongi told you stories about his work, his university years and his friends. you could say he was comfortable with you by the way he spoke easily, not holding back details. you enjoyed to listen to his intelectual side, the way he knew everything about music; but when he told you stories about his life, it was even more enjoyable. 

but he didn't just talk, because he wanted to know about you too. after only two or three questions from him, you were comfortable talking about your life and your plans. it wasn’t difficult to do that because he didn’t judge what you said or thought, he was interested. 

it is extremely difficult to put some feelings into words, but to shorten the story: the feeling was that you had found much more than a nice person, but a connection so strong that for a minute you could believe in soul mates. not soul mates who can’t live without each other, or who are incomplete on their own, or who knew each other from other lives, as people said. not like this. you felt like you connected more than through a good conversation, or physically, but in an even deeper way.

after eating and being much more closer than before, he walked to the bus stop with you. it was time to part ways and you were already missing the unexpected date you and him had. 

“let me give you my number”, he said, right away. you felt your heart skip a beat.

“here”, you handed him your phone. he called his number so your number could show up on his phone and he saved it.

“I had a great time today”, you said, not looking directly into his eyes.

“me too”, hands on the pockets. “wasn’t it unexpected? how we met today.”

“yeah, I had no idea we had mutual friends.”

“neither did I, even though my friends know a lot of people”, he smiled. “but it was a nice surprise to see you again.”

you finally looked at him. his eyes were affectionate, just like everything about him.

“then we should see each other again”, you said.

“then don’t go”, he joked, but he was also saying the truth. “you can call me, ok?”

“I’ll be waiting for your call, too”

“I’ll do it at the moment I ride the bus”, he said and you smiled. 

you got closer to him, your arms touching his. why wait? slowly, you touched his arms and placed yourself into them. you hugged him and he hugged you back, trying to hold on from not holding you closer and tighter. you felt his head touching yours. 

you and yoongi were so close that when you separated from the embrace, it was inevitable that the faces wouldn’t touch. then, without thinking too much, the two of you leaned in sync for a kiss. his gentle and warm lips touching yours, warming not only your face but your whole body. yoongi’s right hand stroked your hair and the side of your face, which made you forget everything else. he smiled when he noticed you liked the kiss. yes, you liked the kiss and you liked him. you liked to spend time with him. you could forget the bus, but it was almost arriving. your hand touched his neck and you left a last kiss on his pink small lips, noses touching.

autumn, 3 years ago

in one year together, a lot happened to you and yoongi. a lot of great things. you had dated before, but no one could ever compare to him. he was something else, he was special. he could be a very serious and focused guy when working, fun and affectionate when with you. was it possible not to love him? not to want to spend your whole life with him?

the way he holds you, kisses your cheeks with his pink lips, buries his face on your neck, caresses your hair. the way he tells you beautiful things, talks to you about his feelings, plays the piano while you’re around, watches the corniest movies with you and make fun of every cheesy line of it.

he doesn’t say he loves you all the time, because he shows it through every single thing he does for you and with you. but when he says it, he’s so sure, so intense, you could marry him right away. 

“you look tired”, he said, as tired as you after a long day of work.

“it’s because I am”, you smiled looking at him. you two were cuddling on the sofa. 

“do you want to eat?”

“no, I’m fine”, you touched his hair. “how about you?”

“as long as I’m with you I’m good”, he hid his face on your neck so his voice was barely audible.

you caressed his hands until he looked at you again, then leaning to a kiss. he loved when you kissed him first, he once said it (and never again, because he was shy to admit sometimes, but you knew it just by the way he smiled when your lips touched). he touched your arm, shoulder, neck, until his fingers were placed comfortably in your hair. he kissed you slowly and when your lips parted, still close enough, he looked at you and said “I love you”. he meant that. he always did. he meant it with his gentle touch, kisses, hugs, words, and even when he didn’t say anything but cared for you in so many ways. “please, just stay forever”, you whispered against his lips. he gave you a smooch. “between you and I, nothing will ever change”.

that moment lasted forever. it really felt eternal and you didn’t want to leave. you were in his apartment, which was almost half yours just by the amount of time you spent there. he gave you the password, said you could go there whenever you wanted, even if he wasn’t home. you did the same, gave your password to him, and that led you to a bunch of times he surprised you when you arrived home. wherever, to be you and him alone was the best thing in the world.

the bell rang and took you out of that moment. it was not eternal, after all. you hadn't ordered food, nobody was coming to visit. what could it be? you stayed there, sitting on the sofa, and yoongi got up to open the door, without even checking who was it through the screen next to the door. he didn't expect it to be who it was. he was too sure it was probably someone knocking on the wrong door, but it wasn't.

“jia?”, you couldn’t see who it was from where you were sitting, but he sounded very surprised.

“hey, long time no-”, she walked in and found you on the sofa, as confused as she was from that moment on, “oh, sorry.”

you got up quickly, as if you were a visitor and not the person who has been in that house almost every day in the last few months. “it’s okay”, you tried to smile.

“I’m jia”, she said.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you”

yoongi was still there, but you almost forgot. he was the central figure in the story, the person who knew you and knew jia, yet he was immobilized behind her. you could see him from where you were and he was uncomfortable, you knew it.

“sorry, y/n, this is jia. and jia, this is... y/n”, he said, pausing before he said your name. you thought he would say who jia was and who you were, but he didn’t. “I didn’t expect you to come here”, he said to her. 

“I thought you were by yourself, that’s why I came over. I arrived last week, but I lost your number... anyway, I’m sorry for interrupting”, she looked at you and you could say she wasn’t expecting you there. for some reason you felt like you were the person who was interrupting, because something about the way jia and yoongi communicated had some kind of familiarity from long before you.

“yeah, hm... the boxes are in the bedroom”, yoongi extended his arm towards the bedroom door. his bedroom. jia excused herself and opened the bedroom door, once again with such intimacy that it felt like she lived there for a long time. still standing there, you thought: maybe she really lived.

yoongi breathed out through his mouth, running a hand through his hair.

“won’t you help her?”, you said. it came out of your lips before you even think properly. he finally looked at you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting it to happen... like this.”

“was it supposed to happen, then?”, you asked, looking for your bag.

“yes, she was supposed to pick up her stuff a long time ago. I was almost sending it to charity... wait, are you going?”

you tried to look at the bedroom discreetly and saw jia there, “well, she’s right now sitting on your bed, I don’t think she’ll leave too soon.”

“hey”, he knew you were uncomfortable with the situation, “I’m sorry, it really was unexpected... jia is my ex girlfriend, as you may have noticed. we broke up a long time ago and now she’s just picking up her stuff.”

“yoongi”, jia showed up with a medium box and a backpack. yoongi, who was touching your arms, stopped instantly. you noticed, of course. “I couldn’t find my perfume anywhere”

“maybe you didn’t put it in the box or it’s just not here”, he said.

“yeah... that was a good one”, she looked at him and they were communicating through their eyes, a communication you were not part of and you would not understand. “hope you’re not keeping it, huh”, she joked and laughed.

you couldn’t see very well, but yoongi smiled for a second. what was happening there? were they just very friendly? you were there. his girlfriend. why were they acting as if you were just another friend standing there, or worse, as if you weren’t even there?

“I’ll open the door for you”, he walked her to the door and you stood there. you wanted to move, but somehow you were stuck.

“see you?”, she smiled at you.

you smiled back, “see you”, even though you didn’t really mean it. 

“oh, this is heavy...”, jia said.

“is your car downstairs?”, yoongi asked, opening the door.

“no, I took a cab here. I’ll just take the bus home now. it’s not that late, right?”

you showed up next to them, bag on your shoulder. yoongi looked at you and you felt like she was indirectly asking him to take her home. 

“I can... give you a ride, I guess”, he looked at her and then at you, wondering if you were okay with that. “it only takes ten minutes, I’ll come back”

“no problem, I’m also going home”, you said.

“won’t you wait? I thought you’d-”

“stay?”, you completed the sentence, “next time. bye”

you walked out. when you reached the sidewalk, you felt weaker and hated yourself for that. it was as if the feelings were hitting you because you knew, somehow, that would lead to something bad.

winter, 3 years ago

you wish everything could be different. the arrival of jia shook everything between you and yoongi, even when you tried so hard to keep it steady. she wasn’t a bad person exactly, but she surely wanted to start over from where they stopped and you felt like an intruder. days went by and things started to get harder. firstly she showed up out of nowhere to return his old coat that was still in her stuff. then, she started to send him messages, or set up a meeting with friends from the university days so he could go too. 

you never really told him you were annoyed by this. you just questioned him a couple times and he noticed how upset you were when jia made a new move. maybe the lack of communication set you two apart. day by day, you were drifting away from him and it was harder to come back to what you two were as a couple. you stopped going to his house, started to find excuses to not meet him, because you knew everything was different for you now. 

until the day he came to your house to spend time with you. you were different, you just couldn’t be with him like before, as if by staying far from him you could avoid the inevitable heartbreak. 

“what’s going on, y/n?”, for the first time ever you saw him extremely worried and upset. 

“nothing, I just... I’m just tired, yoongi”

“you don’t tell me what’s going on anymore, we don’t go out as often as we used to, you don’t even... you don’t even kiss me like you did before.”

tears started to fall from your eyes slowly, “did you ever ask? since your ex came back, did you ever ask why was I different?”

“why is jia a problem? what’s really going on?”

“see? I am telling you! everything changed from the day she put her feet on your apartment and it felt like she was just coming back to her place. she’s finding any excuse to meet you and you’re simply going. can’t you see? she doesn’t want to be friends with you, she wants you. I just don’t want to compete for a place in your heart.” 

you didn’t know how but it all came out as a flash flood. was he really naive about her intentions or did he like it? 

“y/n...”, he hugged you and you let him do it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“and I don’t want to be hurt. that’s why I can’t be the same anymore. I can’t be who I was because I feel like things changed.”

“please, I love you...”, he didn’t know what else to say but you could feel his heart beating fast.

“don’t say it...”, there in his arms, all your worries seemed to fade.

“there’s nothing going on between me and jia. it’s all past. please, don’t let it set us apart now.”

you walked away from the hug and looked at him. “is there something you wanna tell me?”, you knew him very well.

he sighed, sitting on the sofa. you sat by his side, still waiting. “I received my enlistment letter a while ago, before even meeting you that day. I can’t postpone it anymore, mainly now that I already achieved my academic goals. I really need to fulfill my duty, y/n.”

“wait...”, you were confused, “I thought you already completed your military service.”

“most people did... I wish I could have done it before, but I had to go through a shoulder surgery. I told you about the accident while working for the company that fired me after that. I was dealing legally for a long time to finally receive the benefits I didn't get from the company back then, and jia was helping me with this, since she’s a lawyer.”

“you should have told me.”

“yes. I should have told you since the start. I’m sorry for that... I didn’t want to worry you.”

“the only reason you postponed was the surgery?”

“no, at that time I got accept into the university and wasn’t able to stop studying for two years, because I was enjoying it so much ”, he was very sincere. “I love to study and work with music, but I know I also have to fulfill my duty now.”

to hear him say that again made it feel more real.

“when are you going?”

“next week”, he looked away while saying this.

you blinked twice, trying to understand if you heard correctly. some of it had been explained, but now a new problem has arisen. you knew, he had to serve for two years in the army. two long years. would you two be able to wait? you needed to think. the idea of seeing him just a couple times during the year, how would you deal with it?

he pulled you into a hug again and then whispered, “I’m sorry”, and you almost didn’t hear it. he hugged you so tight, you wanted to cry. cry because of everything, cry because of him, because of you, because of the love you were feeling.

“will we be able to do it?”, you looked at him, still into his arms. 

he touched your face and looked into your eyes. you knew his eyes very well and you could notice the sadness in them. “I don’t want to be apart”.

“neither do I.”

but how would you manage it? he didn’t know. none of you did. you only knew you wanted him – would that be enough for the two years ahead? so many questions. you shut all of them by kissing him like before, like you missed him already.

summer, 2 years ago

since you lost contact with yoongi, you were trying to move on day by day. breaking up wasn’t the only solution, but you and yoongi decided it was the best. you met him one day before he enlisted and had a great time together, as friends. 

you talked to him once in a while, when he sent a text or a picture, and it made your hear race because of the notification. you met your friends in common, even met jia on a store, which was surprisingly nice. but of course, even moving on, even finding things to do on your own, even not being in bad terms with him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and wondering: did he think of you too? would you even meet him again?

you didn’t know, but he always thought of you. he thought about sending you a text or a picture when he had time to use his phone, but maybe it wasn’t the best option since you were living a life without him now. he was thinking of you while you were thinking of him. missing each other and wondering without answers. 

on a day off, he was walking by the same street you two hang out on that summer day, for the first time. he didn’t know you were there too, just like you didn’t know he was there, but for a second you thought you saw him.

winter, months ago

how could you watch the grinch and those cheesy rom-coms without thinking of him? you smiled, wanting to send him a picture of your tv. “hey, guess what I’m watching for the 2397473rd time?”, you almost typed. does he have time off on christmas or... has he been discharged already? no, maybe he’s busy, you thought.

he was home that night, by himself. drinking wine, eating and, yes, watching tv. searching for the grinch or any new rom-com to watch, even though he didn’t really enjoy those at first. but because of you and the memories you two created together, those kind of movies made him feel good, have a good laugh and think of you. 

spring, nowadays

life is better on spring – that’s what you always thought. just by walking and seeing the cherry blossoms painting the world in pink made you feel like a brand new person. you were feeling good, having a nice time, feeling the spring breeze on your hair. for the first time in a while, you weren’t overthinking anything, your mind was completely in that moment.

it was 4pm, you finished all your work for that day and it was time to go home, take a bath, maybe hang out with your friends later... you were open to other possibilities. when you approached the avenue, the pedestrian crossing traffic light turned red and you remained standing, holding the bag with both hands in front of your body. you were looking at nothing in particular, but when your eyes briefly passed over the faces of people across the avenue, a face caught your eye.

under the golden light of that time of day, yoongi was standing in front of you. many meters away, but still in front of you. you would walk to the side he was on, he would walk to the side where you were and your paths would cross in the middle of the avenue. maybe he would pretend he didn't see you, or maybe you would. but was it possible to pretend when it was written on your faces how surprised you were to see each other again?

the traffic light was now green for the pedestrians and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. you started walking and then lost sight of him. for a second you thought you would stop in the middle of the avenue, just to look for him, but you were still walking to the other side. 

when all the people walked by and you were reaching the sidewalk on the side he was on, you saw him. standing in the same place, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his cell phone and wallet. looking at you. a strong breeze made some flowers come off the tree and it looked like a movie scene, those beautiful ones. was it fate? was that moment meant to be?

you were finally by his side, on the sidewalk, and felt his gaze on you. you always thought that, if you saw him, your first impulse would be to hug him again, but no – something stopped you. 

“hey”, he said first.

“hi”, you answered. “nice to see you”

“I’m- hm, nice to see you too. how are you?”

“I’m fine, yeah”, you brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “and you? how’s life going?”

you knew he finished his service months ago because a friend in common posted a picture with him. 

“great, I got a new job after completing my service”, he was still talking when a very hurried person accidentally bumped on your shoulder. then yoongi touched your arm lightly, so that the two of you would move away from that busy area a little.

“this is great news! I’m happy that now you’ll be able to keep working with what you like the most.”

“yeah, right? well... I’d love to hear about you too. maybe we can see each other anytime?”

you just needed five seconds of courage and less pride. now or never, you thought.

“do you have time?”, you heard the words coming out of your mouth.

“now?”, you could see he was surprised, but not in a bad way. 

“yes. maybe”

“I do”, he said, “let’s go somewhere, then”

“I need to buy some stuff, if you don’t mind”

“no problem”, he said with a smile on his face. you knew it because you looked at him quickly, smiling too. you two were walking side by side, trying to avoid eye contact and craving for looking at each other at the same time. it would take just a few minutes for you two to start feeling comfortable again, after all this time. you knew it because it was like this since the first time you met him and, years later, it surely didn’t change.

it was a spring day again; you missed him and he missed you. but now you were face to face.

[himikiyo]

cityscapes turn to dust // himikiyo week day 1

Himikiyo Week Day 1: Folklore + Magic

“Trying to defy death, hmm? You’re choosing to take the hard road just as I did. If I don’t have enough time left to change your mind, all I can do is wish you luck.”

Korekiyo's actions taking care of their sister catch up to them.

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut

They had to travel light these days. With the city so ravaged, it was common to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice, and there was only so much Himiko could carry. Kiyo was much stronger than her of course, but even the essentials weighed a fair bit. Most of her possessions, along with theirs, remained at their house, still locked up tight for the time being. Someone determined enough would still be able to break in, but she tried not to think about that.

Material possessions weren’t as important as a life anyway.

Despite traveling light though, Korekiyo seemed to be getting weaker. She told them they just needed rest, but they both knew that wasn’t it. The last time they visited their sister, she put up a fight. Perhaps she knew what was coming, and recognized the sickle in their hand. Either way, she bit them again. Maybe that was the final exposure their body could take after holding out so long.

Their arm was wreathed in broken veins, a sickly purplish crown centered on the bite mark. The imprint of each and every tooth was still clearly visible over a week later whenever she checked under the bandages. She picked her opportunities carefully, when they were half asleep or in a particularly good mood. That way, she hoped, they wouldn’t be quite so upset about how cold it was to remove any layers.

She checked every night to make sure they were still breathing. It was getting harder to tell.

---

People still tried to avoid saying the word zombie. Euphemisms were used: infected, changed. Sometimes there was no more than an indirect reference, like the grandmother who told her that “some of them” drove her out of her home. Maybe it was a foolish desire, since this elderly woman had clearly done well enough for herself to escape that, but Himiko wanted to help her.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” she asked. “Just for a little while. We don’t have much, but it’d be safer than traveling alone.”

“Thank you, dear,” the woman replied, adjusting her shawl. “But I like my chances. I’ve made it this far. If you’ll accept some advice from an old woman...” She trailed off momentarily, casting a meaningful glance at Kiyo. “You may want to consider striking out on your own too. There’s something not right about that one.”

“They’ve just been a little sick lately. Once we find somewhere safe to get medicine, they’ll be fine.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she couldn’t stand saying anything else. Without Korekiyo, she was sure she’d be long since dead.

“Sick? Or changing? Sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is when there’s nothing more to be done.”

“No, that’s not—” She broke off, swiping miserably at her eyes. Kiyo still sat in the corner. Wearing three sweaters to fight a mild early autumn chill, they gave off the impression of an especially gangly marshmallow. It seemed like they were oblivious to the conversation, but Himiko knew better. They always observed more than people gave them credit for.

“Don’t let your friend suffer, dear.” After pressing a small, paper-wrapped package into her hands, the grandmother left. Himiko watched until she vanished from view, hoping she arrived safely to wherever she was headed.

---

“So,” Kiyo said some time later. “When are you planning to kill me? She gave you everything you need to do it, didn’t she?”

“What? No, I’d never. You know I’d never do something like that.” Perched on the edge of the couch they were laying on, she combed a hand through their hair. It helped her fight the urge to rest it on their forehead and see how much their temperature had dropped.

“Yet you encouraged me that putting my sister out of her misery was the right thing to do.”

“That’s different. She wasn’t herself anymore.” As always, she bit back the part about how even with her full mental faculties, that would have been what she deserved.

“Any day now, you might come to find that I am not myself anymore either. Then I will no longer be able to cooperate with your attempts to do it painlessly.”

“That won’t happen,” she argued, fingers involuntarily tightening in their hair for just a moment. “If it was going to happen, it would have already. That was, what, the fifth time she bit you or something? It’s like you told me that first day I found out the truth. You’re immune.”

“Immune.” They scoffed, face contorting into something between a grimace and a scowl. “That was never anything but a lie I allowed myself to believe. I’m not immune. I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not,” Himiko mumbled. She inched closer to them on the couch, laying her head on their bony shoulder. Through sweaters and blankets, it almost felt soft. “I won’t let you.”

“Trying to defy death, hmm? You’re choosing to take the hard road just as I did. If I don’t have enough time left to change your mind, all I can do is wish you luck.” Numb fingers tugged their mask down to press a kiss to her forehead. The old, scarred-over bite wound on their neck was taking on the same purplish hue as their arm.

---

She woke up the next morning with her head resting on their chest. She couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

Shinguuji Korekiyo was dead.

After she came to that realization but before she could figure out what she should do about it, they stirred, feebly trying to shove the blankets off.

“Too hot,” they mumbled, rolling over (or trying to — the attempt wasn’t very successful with half her weight still on them).

“Kiyo?” It had been weeks since they had anything temperature-related to say that wasn’t complaining of being too cold. Not to mention the bigger issue of their lack of vital signs. Straightening up fully, Himiko leaned over them to meet their eyes. They were groggy and unfocused, but they clearly seemed to recognize her.

“What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I guess I have in a way,” she responded, choking out a shaky laugh. “You.”

They sat up slowly, giving her a perplexed look. Did they not even realize what was going on? Surely they had to feel different. She reached out and laid a hand on their chest, just to be certain. Was she so exhausted that she just missed it before? After flexing their wrist, stretching their arm — stiff, maybe from the lack of blood flow? — they overlapped her hand with their own.

“I see. I didn’t imagine becoming a zombie would feel so pleasant.”

“Pleasant? How can you be so calm?”

“I actually feel better than I have in quite some time,” they admitted. “It’s rather comfortable. I do seem to have a certain degree of numbness, but it’s a worthwhile exchange to be free from all the recent pain and discomfort I’ve experienced. Considering my mind seems to be intact, at least as much as I can tell from my own biased perspective, death might not be so bad. If nothing else, it gives me something new to study.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better, but I don’t know if it’s normal to accept something like this so quickly.”

She was forgetting, of course, that Kiyo had never quite been normal.

---

Over time, it became clear that them saying they had “a certain degree of numbness” was a bit of an understatement. If she happened to touch them when they weren’t looking, they only seemed to notice about half the time. Their pain tolerance, already high, had increased to such an extent that it was very possible for them to sustain serious injuries without noticing. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they were in any danger of dying again.

They were still capable of healing, just at a slower rate than a living person. The bite wounds were gradually becoming less evident, flesh repairing itself in defiance of the laws of biology.

That didn’t save her from the unpleasantness of acting as their doctor.

Her first lesson in zombie surgery was a jarring one. The glass shards embedded in their leg likely could have been avoided if they had as much feeling as they used to, but there was no point in agonizing over could have beens. The good news was that they barely seemed affected, glancing down at the heavy wounds with little more than bemused intrigue.

“Ah. I thought something stung a bit. We should probably take a moment to deal with this,” they said smoothly.

“Um, yeah, probably. It really doesn’t hurt? You’re bleeding a lot. What if you run out or something? We don’t exactly know all about how this whole zombie thing works.”

“It’s alright,” Kiyo said. “I think. If I can heal from injuries, it follows that I must still be capable of regenerating my blood supply. However, leaving broken glass there could cause problems. You should remove it.”

“Me? Why?”

“You should get used to tending to my wounds just in case there comes a time when I’m unable to do so myself.”

---

She got plenty of practice. Most of their injuries were minor, but she dutifully took care of each one nevertheless. When she really thought about it, sometimes she wondered if they acted a little carelessly on purpose just to give her experience. They’d always teetered dangerously on the edge of masochism, and now there was the added temptation of learning more about zombie physiology to boot.

Sure enough though, that time Kiyo mentioned did come eventually. So far, it seemed nearly impossible for them to die again, but that didn’t do much to diminish the dread that flowed through her when she saw the exposed muscle and bone of their arm, flayed open like so many of the other shambling zombies they’d seen over the past several weeks.

They grimaced when she started to clean up the wound. It was barely a flicker of pain, but even that was significant considering how much they were able to get through without batting an eye.

“Apologies, dear,” they murmured. “Continue.”

“Sorry. Kind of weird how quickly this has become normal.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to their lips before continuing.

Pulling the edges of the wound together and stitching it up nice and securely...She wasn’t the neatest with her sewing, but she was getting better, and Kiyo always insisted they didn’t mind.

“Beautiful work, my love,” they praised, smiling down at their rather Frankenstein-esque arm. “That’s much better already.”

Himiko just smiled, wrapping the arm up again in their usual bandages.

“I’ll always be here to sew you back again. For now, we should probably both get some rest.” They were only a day away from the village of their hopes.

[hoe-doroki]

Illiterate

pairing: Shouto x American fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

wc: 2.1K

genre: comfort, fluff

summary: You did well in the midterms despite missing the first month and a half of school, not to mention all of the previous year at U.A. But being unable to read Japanese makes you feel so stupid. And who comes into the common room after midnight just as you’re about to cry? The boy who hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks. That’ll make you feel better.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Textbook out on your left. Notebook out on your right. Laptop in front. Phone put to the side. You were taking up a whole olive green couch and coffee table in the common room with your materials. But it didn’t much matter, because everyone else had gone to sleep���or if not to sleep, then to their rooms—hours earlier. It was well past midnight on a Monday and, despite the destructive habits that some of the members of class 2-A had, most tried to get a good night’s sleep. It was vital for rebuilding the muscles everyone abused in class every day, not to mention everything else Recovery Girl had mentioned in the mandatory “Health and Wellness” seminar they’d all had to take. You’d missed it, since it had been in the first week of classes, but you had still received the handy dandy pamphlet in your welcome folder a month earlier.

But you were willing to sacrifice a little sleep in order to catch up to your classmates. You might have had an extra two years of high school over them, based on the U.S.’s school system, since you’d just finished junior year when you’d transferred. Technically you hadn’t finished out the year but you’d done all the standardized testing and gotten your final grades. But still, U.A. was much more rigorous than your old school and, in some areas, you had big gaps. You would only be able to fake it in class for so long like that.

You startled when the hallway light went on behind you. There wasn’t a curfew by which you had to be in your room, but you were still half expecting to find Iida behind you, chastising you for being up so late. But it wasn’t Iida—it was Todoroki.

You turned back to your work, hoping that he wouldn’t say anything if you minded your business and didn’t speak to him. Based on your few experiences with the boy so far, it seemed he could be relied on to be quiet. And your strategy seemed to work; you heard him padding in his slippers over to the kitchen and running some water.

Your focus was now broken, though. You looked at the pages you had out in front of you and all the characters started to blur in your head. It felt like the studying you’d just done had left you and that all the hours since dinner had been pointless. The frustration began to bloom again and you felt your face growing hot with it. You were so behind. So not meant to go to school in Japan.

“You should go back to your room.”

Your body stiffened at the quiet voice behind you. If you looked down, you could see Todoroki’s gray slippers. You hadn’t heard him grow so close.

“If I do, I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s what I mean,” Todoroki said. “You should be in bed.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed too then?” you shot back.

“I woke up and decided to make some tea. The water’s boiling now.”

It was late enough that Todoroki had already gone to sleep and woken up in the middle of the night. And you had nothing to show for your time but a few haphazard notes and a failing short term memory.

“I just have to stay up a little longer,” you whisper, you throat constricting a little around the simple words.

Todoroki took another step closer and looked at your setup. It was obvious that you were doing work, not messing around or staying up just for the heck of it. Todoroki was one of the brightest kids in the class, in addition to one of the most powerful. Hopefully he would see your efforts and just leave you be.

“Sleep is necessary for processing information by transferring things from one section of the brain to another and strengthening connections,” he said instead. “You’ll learn more if you sleep.”

“I know that, and I will, but just…not yet.”

“Y/N, you placed seventh on the midterm. That’s impressive for a new student.”

You shook your head, wishing he hadn’t said that as hot tears started to wet your lashes. “They let me take the test in English,” you rasped, the words coming out completely pitchless. “I’ve been here over a month and I’m still almost entirely illiterate.”

Everything in front of you was in kanji. You had a stack of grammar books that were meant for toddlers that you wished weren’t in Todoroki’s line of sight. They were only half filled out as it was, since you didn’t even know all the answers for those, much less how to read what everyone else had seen on the midterm.

“Oh,” Todoroki intoned in that simple way of his. “You didn’t know Japanese before you came here?”

You shook your head. “Coming here was pretty sudden, so I only had a couple months to try and learn before I transferred. And so I focused more on spoken language just so that I wouldn’t be a complete idiot. Even though I still sound so American.”

“It’s not so bad,” Todoroki offered.

You give a chuckled weakly. “The first thing you said to me was that my Japanese was bad. Terrible. Actually, you didn’t even say it to me, you said it…around me.”

“Oh, I guess I did,” he said. If you looked at him, you probably could have seen the memory appearing on his face. “Well, I’ve changed my mind. It’s not terrible.”

Even sugarcoating it that much must have been a reach for him, so you could appreciate the effort. You blinked the last of the tears away, grateful that none of them had actually fallen and that Todoroki hadn’t seemed to notice them. “I’m sure your water is boiling by now. You can go. I promise that I’ll go to sleep soon.”

If it had been Shinsou, or Yaoyorozu, who you were beginning to grow close to, or someone like Midoriya, they would have stayed. Maybe even closed your books for you and ushered you up to your room, telling you that you could start again tomorrow. But at your words, Todoroki’s slippers disappeared from view and he went back to the kitchen. It wasn’t especially surprising. He’d barely ever spoken to you, especially since you’d used your quirk on him the first time a few weeks back. And you could understand why. Nobody liked the effects of being hit by your quirk. Or losing a match in less than two minutes. So when just a minute later you were greeted with a cup of steaming tea in front of you, on one of the small spots of table between all your materials, you were forced to look up at him for the first time.

“Would you like to speak in English?” he asked, the words coming out with certainty and only a hint of a Japanese accent over a British one. And they nearly made you fall to pieces.

“Yes,” you breathed.

He sat down on the sofa kitty-corner to yours and you noticed that his mug, like yours, was only half full. You didn’t love tea—you’d never drunk it much in America, but it was ubiquitous here. Yaoyorozu was all but forcing you to acquire a taste for it. Still, the gesture moved you and you lifted up the too-hot cup, blowing on it as you let the light herbal scent waft over to you. Todoroki was holding his mug with his left hand and you wondered if it even felt hot to him.

“I apologize if I’ve been cold to you,” Todoroki said. “The truth is that it surprised me, how you’d used your quirk on me. And that you’d seen it as a weak point after only observing me for a couple weeks. I keep on thinking that my past is behind me, but then it never is. It’s why I’m awake right now.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I felt really bad using my quirk on you like that. The look on your face—it felt like such an invasion to use sadness against you. I wouldn’t want to do that just to win.”

“Well,” Todoroki said, the ghost of a smile on his face, “you were playing a villain.”

You groaned. “Ugh, I hope I never have to again.”

“Unlikely,” Todoroki said. “All Might creates many exercises like that.”

Your tea was finally cool enough to sip without burning your tongue. The taste of herbal tea was strange, not particularly food or beverage-like to your brain, but you thought you could understand the comfort of it. The hot liquid felt nice on your throat and you realized that you hadn’t had any water for hours. You took another sip.

“You said before that your past is why you’re awake right now,” you started hesitantly. “Can I ask why that is?”

“Just a dream,” he said simply. A bad one if his grimace was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry,” you said, although you weren’t sure if you were sorry about the dream or asking about it. Probably a bit of both.

“No, I actually…” Todoroki looked at you and you were struck by how captivating his gaze was. His blue eye was piercing, one of the brightest you’d ever seen while his gray eye was dark, almost brown, and mysterious. “I wanted to know how you knew. That exercise was meant to show us how we’ve exposed our weak spots to someone new and it would be a missed opportunity for me not to ask you about it.”

“How I knew…that you were sad?” you asked.

He nodded once, eyes still stuck on yours.

“You just…your friends seem like really happy people,” you explained. “Uraraka, Midoriya, even Iida in his way. Or even when they’re not happy, they’re wearing their emotions on their sleeves. But you, even when you’re joining in with them, there’s usually a cloud over you. Like you’re hiding your emotions. And from there I guessed that that came from somewhere. Probably someplace difficult. And when I strategized with Aizawa-sensei and he agreed that it was worth a try.”

“I see.”

“Like now,” you said, looking at his face. “Do you feel anything about what I said? If so, you’re totally hiding it on your face. Blank eyes, relaxed mouth. And, you know, that’s fine, but if you’re doing that on the outside, then, for a teenage boy, I assume you’re doing it on the inside too.”

That brought some expression to his face. Twin creases between his eyebrows, making his relaxed mouth look more like a frown without moving it.

“But I don’t want you to worry about that or what I think about you,” you said quickly. “For my quirk, I have to be really good at intuiting emotions, especially since I so rarely get to practice with people. I have to be super observant and understand something about psychology. Most villains aren’t that sensitive.”

“But some are.”

“Yes, certainly some are,” you said. “But if you want to start working on whatever underlying things you have, you should be doing it because you want to. Not because you want to be a stronger hero but because you want to love yourself more.”

Todoroki gave a little huff that could have been a chuckle. “How American of you.”

“Hey!” Your exclamation is quiet. “You’re the one who offered to speak in English.”

“You seemed homesick,” he said with a shrug.

“I was,” you admitted. “I am.”

“Okay,” Todoroki said, standing up. You saw that his mug was empty while yours was still a quarter full and now tepid at best. He took it along with his own. “You’re going to sleep now and tomorrow you’re going to ask Yaoyorozu for tutoring. She’s excellent and the two of you seem to be getting along. Our class is full of all good, mostly helpful people. You should say something when you need help.”

You shut your laptop, the screen having gone black long ago and began dog-earing and closing your books. Before Todoroki went to the kitchen you grabbed his arm, only to release it a moment later when you remembered people weren’t quite so tactile in Japan as they were in America, Todoroki especially so. Still, you had his attention as he turned back to look at you. “The same to you. You should say something when you need help.”

Todoroki’s lips pursed together, not quite in a smile, not quite a frown, but in acknowledgment. He probably wasn’t fond of you turning your words back on him.

“I’ll…try.”

[winryofresembool]

Caleo fic: It’s all about the name

Chapters 3-4(/5)

Summary: Calypso is a barista at a coffee shop and one day she gets a customer who refuses to give her his real name. At first he seems really annoying but eventually Calypso finds out not all is what it looks like on the surface. (Coffee shop AU!)

a/n: More updates! Only one more to go after these two chapters that I'm posting today. I would have loved to make this au even longer but time is a b*tch and I'm really itching to continue working on twlitf already.

Hope you enjoy and please do leave me comments because even if I have almost finished this fic, I definitely want to know what you guys think!

Words: 3,6k+

Genre: fluff, humor

Warnings: none

previous chapters / AO3 

...

The next day, the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ showed up at the coffee shop just like he had promised. He didn���t have to ask for Calypso because she spotted him from afar, being rather easy to recognize. They didn’t have a lot of customers wearing an army jacket over an orange shirt, tools hanging from the pockets, and the bottom half being the work coveralls. At least he had left his backpack home this time, Calypso sighed with relief. She couldn’t deny, though, that in a weird way that outfit suited him. As she saw him more closely, she noticed he seemed pretty cheerful, which was probably a good sign. Or then he was just preparing to annoy her some more and was already looking forward to that. Calypso supposed she’d find out soon enough.

Either way, she stepped closer to the counter so the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ could see her better.

“So you did come,” she greeted him and he gave her that annoying grin of his that seemed to come so naturally.

“Why, of course,” he responded. “Couldn’t possibly have missed the opportunity to see the Sunshine again.”

“Are you flirting with me? Because I swear, if you are, it’s not going to work,” Calypso told him bluntly, still having her latest relationship too fresh in her mind.

“That’s crazy talk,” the guy responded, putting his hand over his chest. “How would I even dare to flirt with you? You’re way out of my league.”

“Out of your league? Uh, I don’t know about that,” Calypso mumbled, more to herself than to him. The broken relationships had left a mark on her self esteem and she didn’t consider herself as someone to be looked up to.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” the guy said, looking confused.

“Um, nothing,” Calypso tried to brush it off. “It was not relevant. But enough with that; what are you going to order? Remember, it’s on the house. Do you want the double espresso you ordered yesterday or something else?”

“I’d rather have something else,” the guy said, his gaze going back and forth between Calypso and the menu. “Truth to be told, I’m not big on coffee. I’ve noticed it makes me even more hyper than I already am. ADHD and all that good stuff, you know. Yesterday was a special occasion because I had to work overtime.”

“Alright, what will that something else be then?” Calypso asked, feeling that a lot of things about this guy already made more sense.

“Anything with no caffeine would be good. What would you rec? You’re the expert on your menu, after all,” he noted.

“Do you like sweet things?” Calypso asked.

“Sweet is fine, yeah,” the guy agreed. 

“Then how about hot chocolate? We’re pretty generous with the whipped cream we add on it,” Calypso promised. “And we can even add marshmallows if you like those.”

“I think just the cream will be fine, don’t wanna be in a complete sugar coma when I need to go back to work,” the guy noted. “To go, by the way. I can’t stay long.”

“Fine, one hot chocolate without marshmallows coming then. Will you finally tell me your name?” Calypso asked.

“Super-sized McShizzle,” the guy replied without missing a beat.

“Just when I thought that you might be an OK guy after all…” Calypso said but the tone of her voice told she wasn’t being serious.

“What’s life without some mystery, Sunshine?” He smiled at her and Calypso wondered briefly what the hell this conversation was about really.

“Yeah, what indeed?” she responded. Then she realized that the silly conversation had been going on long enough for a small queue form behind the guy. “Well, Johnny.” His mouth twitched when she said the new made up name. “Your hot chocolate will be waiting for you at the other counter in a minute. And I hope you won’t scare me so much this time that I’ll drop the drink.”

“Will try to not do that.”

The Super-sized McShizzle or Bad Boy Supreme moved to the other counter, and as Calypso was shaking the canned whipped cream, she was still playing the conversation in her head. For an outsider it probably seemed like they were being rude to each other. But Calypso thought she had learned to read this stranger a bit better already and guessed he actually enjoyed their bickering - and she had to admit that some part of her enjoyed them as well. Drawing a small heart after the made up name Johnny, she finally approached him at the counter and managed to deliver the hot chocolate without messing anything up. ‘Johnny’ took it gratefully but he gave her a funny look when he read his name on the cup.

“Aw, you even drew a heart there!” He noted. “I am starting to think you have started warming up to me.”

“No way. You? Why would I do that?” Calypso raised her eyebrow questioningly, but it probably wasn’t very effective thanks to her red cheeks.

“Because all the ladies love…” he checked his name from the cup again. “Johnny?”

“You should learn to know when to stop,” Calypso warned, rolling her eyes, but her mouth betrayed her.

“Oh c’mon, your mouth just twitched. I saw it,” the guy said. Then he took a swig from his cup and hummed approvingly. “Yup. This is the stuff. Not bad, Sunshine, I would definitely drink this again.”

“I’m glad you like it, especially since it’s supposed to be my apology to you.”

“In that case, apology accepted.” ‘Johnny’ wiped his mouth and checked the clock on the wall. “Well, I won’t bother you more this time because Jo is expecting me to be back at the garage any minute now. I was surprised she allowed me to come here in the first place but she seemed to think it’s good for me to meet new people. Apparently I spend too much time at work. But oh well, if I want to buy a car I need to save a lot of money…”

“That’s why you’re working overtime?” Calypso asked curiously.

“Yeah… I’ve been moving from place to place almost my whole life so at least owning a car would make it easier… Unless I find some reason to stay somewhere.” He shrugged, looking more serious than he had the whole time he’d been there. “I don’t know. But yeah, I should get going now. Maybe I’ll see around some time, though.” His smile returned. “This place is definitely better than I first thought.”

“Yeah, maybe I will see you around,” Calypso said, feeling a bit flustered again. It seemed that there was a lot more to this stranger’s story than she had first imagined. The small glimpses of the reality behind his jokes gave her a picture of a restless, unsure young man who was still looking for his place in the world. That piqued her interest and made her wish she really would see him again.

…

The mystery guy started visiting the coffee shop regularly during his breaks. After a couple of weeks Calypso already knew that his boss was called Jo and she was married to a woman called Emmie who handled the flower shop side of the business and they had an adoptive daughter Georgina. Even though the mystery guy hadn’t stayed in town for more than a couple of months so far, he seemed to have formed a strong bond with these people and especially adored the little Georgie whom he treated almost like a sister. Calypso also knew that the guy’s best friends were called Jason and Piper but unfortunately they were currently studying in another town so he couldn’t see them that often. He also had a pet lizard called Festus who apparently liked to nibble pretty much everyone except his fingers. Despite knowing all of that, there was still something Calypso didn’t know about him.

“Let’s play the game: guess my name,” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ suggested one time when he was ordering a soda.  “What do you think?”

Calypso thought about it for a moment. “Alright. Mike? Chris? Alex? Peter? Luke?”

“No, no, no, no and no,” he answered without hesitating, his mouth curled up with amusement.

“Ed? Sebastian? Jake? Thomas? Leon?” Calypso kept throwing in random names that came to her mind.

“Still no to all,” the mystery guy shook his head. “Although those were not half bad guesses. I wouldn’t mind being called Ed. A character in one of my favorite animes is called that and he’s quite a badass.”

“You watch anime?” Calypso asked curiously. “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises.” He smirked before turning more serious. “Um, truth to be told, Georgina keeps ranting about her favorite animes when she’s hanging out at the garage with me and one time I just decided to binge watch some of them to be able to keep up with her. Turns out some of them are actually quite solid. Like this Fullmetal Alchemist. Ahem, but that probably isn’t interesting to you so I’ll stop now.”

“No, don’t worry about it!” Calypso reassured him. “I like hearing about your interests. I am not that familiar with anime but maybe some time you can recommend something to me to watch when I have more free time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The guy smiled before turning a bit hesitant. “Um, I know you’re probably busy and stuff but I have a free chair at my table if you happen to be in need of a break. Just sayin’, but it’s OK if you can’t.”

Calypso was surprised that he asked so bluntly. The truth was that a bit before his appearance she had already considered taking a break so the timing was good enough and she decided to accept his offer. It was a quiet moment at the coffee shop so her coworkers were fine with it as well.

“You know now that I watch anime but what about your interests?” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ asked once they had settled down at an empty table. “What do you do outside this coffee shop?”

“You really want to know?” Calypso questioned.

“Of course I do!” he said immediately. “I’ve revealed quite a bit about myself so it’s your turn now.”

Calypso felt a bit hesitant about talking about personal stuff, possibly afraid her mystery customer would judge her. “I, um… I have a mini garden on my balcony… I grow some edible plants there. I also enjoy reading because it's a good distraction from some unwanted thoughts.”

“I can relate to that,” the guy confessed but didn’t elaborate. Calypso wondered briefly what he may have wanted distraction from.

“Yeah…” she said instead of asking more because she doubted he would have liked that. “When I was a kid, I used to do a lot of music related things, like sing, play the piano and stuff like that but I stopped at some point because my father seemed to think it’s a waste of time. So, yeah. I was pretty upset about that. Who knows, maybe when I have more money I’ll be able to take more classes again… Lately I’ve been trying to express myself by painting, though, because watercolors are luckily cheap and I really needed something to do after…” She stopped when she realized she was about to reveal too much.

“After what?” the guy wanted to know.

“I don’t even know your name so I have no idea why I’m telling you this… but I guess it can’t hurt. I can trust you, right?”

“Of course!” her chat mate assured.

Calypso sighed before continuing. “I recently broke up with someone with whom I had been in quite a long relationship. Yeah, looking back to it, maybe it was for the best because clearly he wasn’t as invested as I was, but it still hurt to hear that he wanted to break up with me because there was someone else in his life. So, that’s why I’ve needed more distractions lately.” When she saw his serious expression, she rushed to add: “Don’t worry about me, though, I’m fine. I’ve already accepted that this is how it is. Trust me, it’s better that way. But it explains why I was so grumpy on that day we met.”

“Oh, OK. Sorry about that guy. I think he made a big ass mistake there but unfortunately some of us can be kinda blind… Hey, what are you staring at?” he asked when he noticed her watching him weirdly. In reality, Calypso had felt a small, unexpected tug at her heart because of his niceness but she tried to cover it by shaking her head.

“Nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking about something. But I should get back to work, the coffee isn’t going to serve itself.”

“I guess it isn’t. Well, talk to you later,” the guy said but from the corner of her eye Calypso could see that he was probably wondering what had just happened there.

Chapter 4

Time passed, but some things didn’t change:

“So… when will you finally reveal your name to me? We’ve known each other for several weeks now and you’re still being so mysterious,” Calypso noted one day when the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ showed up at the coffee shop again. Like earlier, she had asked her coworkers if she could have her break so she could talk with him and they had accepted her request but given each other funny glances behind Calypso’s back, as if saying ‘we know what you are doing here’.

“I will do that when you finally call me Bad Boy Supreme instead of Johnny or Ben or David or whatever fake name you come up with each time.” He just smirked at her and Calypso 100% expected him to keep his word.

“No. That’s the one thing I cannot do, you weirdo,” she said stubbornly.

“Alright, then no can do,” he teased.

Calypso did continue asking him about other things, though, and got some answers.

“Why did you want to become a mechanic? Is it just because cars are cool or did you have some deeper reason for that?”

“Actually, my dream is to become a mechanical engineer so I get better tools to invent - and fix - all sorts of things, not just cars, but at the moment I don’t have enough money to go to college. So, I’m working to save up for that too, not just for the car. I know, sounds like a mission impossible. I will have to work about ten thousand years to save that much. I’ve just… always enjoyed building and fixing things, ever since I watched my mum do that when I was a kid… It’s in my blood.”

“Oh… then your mum must be proud that you want to follow her footsteps!” Calypso said gently, but the guy’s expression darkened.

“Yeah… maybe she would be… if she was still alive.”

“Oh no!” Calypso covered her mouth with her hands when she realized her mistake. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“It’s OK,” he sighed. “I’m starting to get used to it.”

There was a moment of silence before Calypso asked: “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… when did it happen?”

The guy looked at her darkly. “I was 8 then… So over 10 years ago. Not exactly breaking news anymore. Been going from home to home since then until I got old enough to live on my own; my dear dad didn’t care about me enough to keep me.”

“Wow… I’m sorry… You just give me such a happy and outgoing picture of yourself that I couldn’t imagine… ugh, just ignore me, please. I need to stop rambling now,” Calypso said with embarrassment, blushing slightly.

The guy surprised both Calypso and himself by what he did next: he reached for her hand to reassure her.

“Hey, relax. I only told that to you because you seem like someone I can trust. Not a lot of those people in my life. But yeah, there’s no need to be embarrassed; you couldn’t have known.”

“Oh… I guess I should be honored then. Since you were honest with me, I’m gonna be too: I didn’t exactly have the best of childhoods either. My parents fought a lot before breaking up and my dad… he could be scary when he wanted to. He had to get things done his way and if he didn’t like something… he’d let us know, loudly. I guess some of my temper issues may stem from there.”

“Still thinking about that time when you yelled at me?” the guy asked. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Calypso laughed nervously, tugging a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, when my parents got divorced, my father insisted I live with him instead of mum and that did not end up going well. His idea of good parenting was buying me expensive things I didn’t care about, while I could tell that in reality he couldn’t care less if I was there or not. He just wanted to humiliate my mother. I ended up moving out as early as possible, but that’s a whole other story…”

“And that’s why you’re working here now?” The Bad Boy Supreme wanted to know. “Because you desperately needed money? I mean, no offense, but I get a vibe from you that you don’t actually enjoy working here.”

Calypso glanced at her surroundings, making sure none of her coworkers and especially not the manager could hear her answer. Then she sighed. “Yeah. You’re not wrong. I did have some dreams when I was younger but… it’s like you said, it would take me about ten thousand years to be able to afford studying. The rent here isn’t free and I don’t even want to think about the college tuitions. Obviously my dad could afford them easily but I’m not going to stoop so low that I would ask him. I am not going to owe anyone, especially not him.”

The ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ gave her an approving half smile. “I see we have something in common, after all. We both have dreams that seem to be hard to achieve. And I definitely wouldn’t want to owe to my no good old man either. And families… Those can be bitches. But not something bad if not something good; thanks to my round around the country I feel like I may have finally found a place where I could maybe picture myself staying more than just a few months. The coffee here isn’t half bad and the people are decent too.” He winked at her, and she knew his words were actually quite a big compliment from him. Despite that, she pretended to be annoyed by his comment, putting her hands on her waist. 

“Not half bad? I don’t even remember you ordering coffee since that little incident – and you didn’t get your coffee back then - so how can you have an opinion on it?”

“That’s the thing, I didn’t get my coffee so that’s why it’s only ‘not half bad’ and not the ‘best coffee I’ve ever had’” he smiled at her smugly. “However, the hot chocolate was definitely worth getting yelled at.”

Calypso hated how contagious his smile was but she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m glad to hear that.”

They were silent for a moment before the guy started: “Hey, listen… would you like to…”

His question was interrupted, though, because a customer nearby started causing ruckus, claiming the tea water was too cold (even though Calypso knew her coworkers always made sure it was hot enough) and the piece of cake was dry (even though someone had cut fresh pieces like half an hour ago) and she wanted her money back. Reyna was serving her and trying to politely say that she was sorry the customer felt that way and that they’d make sure to do better the next time, but the customer wouldn’t listen. Calypso could tell Reyna’s patience was running thin so she decided to finish her break then and there and go to help, but she had only managed to stand up from her chair when she noticed that she wasn’t the only one wanting to defend the honor of their coffee shop.

“Hey, you,” ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ said loudly, addressing the woman who had complained. “Don’t like, don’t buy. It’s as simple as that. There are other places where you can get your low fat cake with extra cream on the top that will surely match your interests better.”

The woman just glared at him, going slightly red from her face, before dramatically turning away and leaving the coffee house. Calypso sighed of relief, thankful that nothing worse happened.

“That wasn’t really necessary, you know,” she tried to scold her companion but the attempt was half hearted. “I’m sure Reyna would have been able to handle it.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t have a doubt about that,” he said. “But sometimes it’s fun to let those privileged douches hear it. You guys are just too polite. Well, most of the time. I guess some customers do have a way to crawl under your skin but that requires special talent.” He grinned at her in a way that may have tried to be flirty but failing.

“Oh, yeah, a special talent indeed,” Calypso confirmed, throwing her long braid over her shoulder. “I’m the epitome of patience, as we know. Well, I should get back to work now; my coworkers are probably waiting for me already.” She looked at Reyna apologetically but she didn’t seem to mind one bit. “It was nice talking to you, though, Raymond.”

“That’s the best you can come up with? C’mon, you can do better than that,” ‘Raymond’ protested but waved her a goodbye with a big smile on his face. Calypso gave him a shy smile back.

[dreamii-yume]

so for the Twisted Wonderland yandere thing on AO3 how about Leona with a smoll and pure darling who has lately been clinging to him because she has felt like she has been being watched recently not knowing who was doing the watching

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Oh no! Darling has been feeling like someone’s following and watching her lately! So, in the fear of getting pursued anytime soon, she ended up relying on Leona’s help, not realising the real culprit this whole time.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Yandere | Non-Con | Stalking | Dark Themes | Mentions of Pregnancy

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

A shiver went up your spine and you quickly turned around.

There was no one. As always.

It had been like this for the past few days, you would feel eyes striking holes into you but when you would look, nothing was there. You might’ve thought someone was playing a prank on you, like someone could have drank a potion of invisibility to spook you. That wasn’t a likely scenario but it sure was possible, there are a few students who holds quite the distaste for you, after all. But this has been going on for days, there was no way someone would be this dedicated to pull a prank this much, unless you’ve done something really bad to that person. However, thinking hard about it, you’ve never recalled anything of such.

Still, this wasn’t a very funny prank, that’s for sure.

Thankfully, you don’t feel it everywhere, in such places like your classroom. It gives you some sort of relief for once, because it means that the culprit wasn’t in the same room as you, or at least doesn’t seem to be like one of your classmates. But the moment you stepped out of the room, in the hallway, in the cafeteria, in places full of people, that’s when it will strike back up again. It feels dangerous that you honestly feel like someone is going to assassinate you once when they got the chance. You thought being with other people would give you some sort of protection against the paranoia, but it didn’t.

In fact, it felt even more hostile, almost like they were bursting with bloodlust, like it was telling you to get away from your friends. You talked to Ace, Deuce, and Grim about it once but none of them seemed to feel watched as much as you do. This made you think that perhaps, you were overreacting? I mean, there was no way that someone would be this interested in you that you could practically feel them crawling up your skin? You told that to yourself one day, until you came to the terrifying realization that your friends might not have sensed it because it was just focus on you.

Currently, walking home alone does not make it any better at all. There were no students left at this time and the sun had already set, the lamp posts were the only ones to give you light on your way. If someone were really out to get you, there was no more perfect opportunity than this and that’s what makes it more terrifying. Gulping down your nervousness, you tried ignoring that unknown presence and walked faster, the Ramshackle dorm was just few meters away so it was fine. You could make it if you ignore everything else, ignore the footsteps that was going faster as you quickened your pace.

Until someone reached out and pat your shoulder.

You yelped, not being able to handle the pressure any longer and crouched down in a silly way to protect yourself. Your body trembled and you could feel tears pricking in the corner of your eyes, you were not ready to die tonight.

“Hey, what’s up with you?”

You opened your eyes at the familiar voice and turned around to see the Dorm Head of Savanaclaw, Leona Kingscholar. “...Leona-san...?” You called out, as if you weren’t sure if he was real or not.

Seeing how teary-eyed you look, Leona raised an eyebrow. “It’s unusual for you to go home this late and alone, what happen to that little cat herbivore?” He asked, putting a hand on his hips.

You sniffed and slowly stood up, Leona took noticed on how much your legs were trembling. “G-Grim was...held up in Crewel-sensei’s lectures along with Ace and Deuce...” You answered, looking down.

Leona hummed, but it doesn’t seem like he gave a single damn about what you said at all. It was unusual seeing him outside of his dorm this late too and still on his school uniform, you thought. Usually he’d be sleeping somewhere peaceful, where Ruggie or Jack wouldn’t find him. Did he take a liking to a spot somewhere around here?

Then, Leona turned to you. “So, the hell’s got you on your nerves? You pissed someone off or something?” He asked as a joke.

You only bit your lip and looked up to him with a pleading look in which Leona’s eyes sparked in curiosity. This look was enough for him to know that you did not take his words as a mere joke, but possibly a serious fact. Without thinking, you reached out your hands and grabbed the hem of his vest, gently pulling on it. “P-Please...Help me...” You plead with tears in your eyes, swallowing up the fact that you were so desperate to save yourself. “Someone’s...Out there.”

Leona look down at you for a while, you couldn’t really place a finger on what kind of expression he was making. But soon, he gave out a smirk so smug that you feel like he was mocking you. “I see.” He said as he shrugged and pat your head quite roughly, ruining your hair. “It’s troublesome but that look on your face is a sight to see.”

You didn’t really know whether to take that as a compliment or not. You chose to look at it at the bright side, after all, he didn’t exactly say no, did he? He pats your back and began walking towards your dorm. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” He said with a small yawn but without any other complaint.

You blinked, surprised on how he took your request so well. You were almost sure that he would refuse and just leave you right then and there, saying how you should take care of your own problem. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as anyone thought him to be? With that, you smiled, appreciating his help and ran towards his side. You unconsciously grasped the end of his vest once again out of nervous reaction, but Leona didn’t seem to mind.

There was nothing burning holes into your soul anymore. You missed this feeling, you felt safe.

For now.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“Look at this, Leona-san! I got a 90 for the first time on Crewel-sensei’s test!” You beamed down at Leona, showing your test paper at him, who was nonchalantly laying on your lap. Though, you feel kind of self-conscious as your body was a lot smaller compared to him, making you think that he might not be as comfortable laying on your lap like this. But he wasn’t complaining so you took the chance. You two sat on a shaded bench just somewhere in the school, it was lunch break and you thought how nice the day was. “I guess staying up that late to study was worth it, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah...” Leona said with his eyes close, not bothering to look at what you’re showing to him. But you didn’t mind, you were used to his personality by now anyway. Still, it didn’t stop your mouth from constantly blabbing about your day even if the lion in your lap didn’t seem to care. Well, that was what you thought, not knowing how his ears were actually twitching, attentively listening to every single one of your words.

It’s been a while since you’ve started hanging out with Leona, after you begged him for help that one night. The next day he agreed to do so, you really clanged on to him for protection. Maybe not physically so but the constant grasp in his clothes, hiding behind him, and you frantically looking everywhere just to be with him. Thinking about it now, it made you embarrassed that you were acting almost like an obsessive lover, constantly in need of Leona’s presence. You were surprised that he handled you so well, that he didn’t get annoyed with you too much, putting aside the occasional growls here and there. Overall, he didn’t seem to mind your presence at all, despite the fact that he was so hostile towards everyone from before. 

Maybe his overblotting incident had really did awaken the good in him, even if he isn’t fond of showing it. More importantly, being by his side was probably the safest you’ve ever felt in a while. The strange stalker following you around had practically been non-existent up to this point. You could finally get a good night’s sleep and enjoy your food without losing appetite because of the unnerving glares you get every time you take a bite. It was all thanks to Leona! 

Though, you did notice how weird it is as Leona never actually did do anything about it, he was just by your side this whole time, but it wasn’t like you could imagine him doing anything about it either. This made you automatically assume that your stalker must’ve gotten scared of him instead. You do have the Beast of Savanaclaw himself as a protection, so you wouldn’t really blame that person for staying away. But still, it feels like it was a memory from the past now, nothing to fret over anymore. You made sure to thank Leona for accepting such a weird request on your part, you wonder what he would like in return?

“Leona-san!” A voice called in the distance, slowly coming closer towards the two of you. You looked up and saw the Vice Dorm Head of the same dorm as Leona, Ruggie Bucchi. His eyes looked as bored as ever but lighted up once he saw the person he was looking for. “Ah, there you are. Geez...”

“Oh, Ruggie-san, hello.” You said, smiling at him as the Hyena waved at you, lazily. 

“Hey there, (Y/N). I’ll be borrowing Leona-san for a while.” He said, which made you chuckle thinking how silly it is for him to need some kind of permission from you to do so. Little did you know that Ruggie was almost certain that he was required to do just that. You gestured him to do what he came for, helping him even by patting Leona awake.

“Leona-san...It’s time for class, you know?” Ruggie called, watching how Leona grumbled and buried his face on your stomach. You flinched at that, now that was a feeling you weren’t expecting. Ruggie only sighed at his behavior, scratching the back of his head but he seems to be so used to this kind of routine. “Your teacher’s going to bitch on you again if you arrive late.”

That made Leona sigh in annoyance and grumbled under his breath. He slowly tears himself off you and sat up, massaging his temple. He glanced at you and you gave him a small smile. “Hope you had a good sleep, sorry if you got uncomfortable on my lap...” You scratched the back of your head, sticking your tongue out.

“...Not really.” Leona muttered as he turned away and stood up. “Alright, I’m up. There’s no end to a teacher’s nag so let’s go and take you to your classroom really quick.”

You blinked at him, almost forgetting about the fact that this had been a regular occurrence for the two of you ever since he accepted your request. Usually, you would accept this offer without hesitation but it has been quite a while since your stalker had stopped. You didn’t want to bother Leona with these kinds of silly interactions anymore, not when you weren’t scared anymore. “Ah...That’s no need.” You said, giving him a smile and standing up. “I think I can manage to go by myself now, thank you.”

You noticed how Leona seemed to become a little too quiet for your taste after saying that. It was quite unnerving on how he just stared at you, as if you just did something unusual.

It somehow feels eerily familiar. 

“(Y/N).” Leona calls out, making you flinch in surprise. “Watch your back out there.”

“You never know when someone will just grab you by the neck.”

He seems to be back in his lazy attitude now, giving you his signature smirk. His voice sounding like he meant it as another crude joke but your body stiffened, like it suddenly gone into defense mode. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful but you didn’t like that kind of joke, especially when it hits way to close to your original problem. 

You nod your head without any other question. “I’ll be careful.” You said, giving him a small, but twitching smile. You turned your heel, waving at the two Savanaclaw members and went on your merry way.

A little quicker than usual.

Silence befall on the two beastmen. It was only after your figure disappeared from their sight that Leona heard Ruggie sighed. “I know I’ve been saying this a lot but...” He said, crossing his arms and looking up at Leona with an amused smirk. “You’re really mean, Leona-san.”

“Seriously, you scared her to this extent just so you could come in and be the prince charming? Talk about being cheap.” Ruggie said with the clear intention of pissing of his dorm’s head leader. He got a growl of irritation because of that, but he still considers it as a win. He looked back at Leona, despite his initial thought however, he didn’t seem to be against his decisions.

Leona began to walk away from him, presumably going to his next class, Ruggie followed after him. “She got over her fear of being watched really quick.” He said, yawning.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ruggie asked, raising his eyebrow but then he thought about what he said. “...Well, I guess for her, yeah. But for you, I don’t think so.”

Feeling stupid for answering his own question, Ruggie shook his head and looked up at Leona. “Anyways, what do you plan to do about it?” He asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Leona smirked, Ruggie already could tell that it wasn’t a good sign but he merely sighed at it. 

“I’m going to be giving her another reason to be scared.”

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

Estimated date release of the next Request in June 19