#my deep hope is that she will forge a friendship with this girl and I will actually be able to meet her

[victory-cookies]

incredibly jealous of my friend whose new coworker is a) a year older than the two of us but still like. about the same age and goes to my uni and b) is a super huge fan of tsp, so much so that she did a uni final project on it. Like fully video essay. she seems so fucking cool I’m so sad she’s not my coworker

[zapreportsblog]

My Girl

➥ summary: Twin brothers Miles and Miles (Prowler) both seem to be crushing on the same girl at their new school, just a matter of them before one of them admits it. May the best man win

➥ a/n: so i decided on a storyline where they both grew up as twins, no spiderman or prowler but as to not confuse us all earth 42 miles will be nicknamed prowler, another thing fanart isn’t mine it was simply found on Pinterest and google

➥ 1610! Miles (RJ) x Reader x 42! Miles (The Prowler)

Rio Morales watched her twin boys, Miles and Miles, grip each other's shoulders tightly with anticipation as they stood outside their new school. It was a crisp autumn morning, and the leaves danced playfully in the breeze, mirroring the excitement that fluttered in Rio's heart. The decision to move them to a new school had been tough, but after the fight that broke out at their old school, Rio believed it was necessary to give them a fresh start.

•••

"Alright, boys," Rio said, with a mix of determination and affection in her voice. "Remember why we're here. This is a chance for all of us to turn things around, to make new friends, and grow into better versions of ourselves."

Miles, wearing a red hoodie and sporting a mischievous grin, fidgeted restlessly. He was the meticulous one, always wanting to explore every nook and cranny he stumbled upon. His friends called him the "Prowler" due to his natural curiosity and resourcefulness.

"Mama, trust me," he chimed in. "No more fights. The Prowler always has a plan."

Rio looked into Miles' expressive eyes, recognizing the genuine excitement and innocence that radiated from within him. But she also saw the darkness that lay dormant, the potential for trouble that he carried, as often seen in the consequences of his actions.

"Miles, my love," Rio began, her voice filled with equal parts love and worry, "your curiosity is a gift, but you have to learn to channel it in the right direction. There's no doubt you can do great things, but it's important you steer clear of any more trouble."

Miles nodded sheepishly, understanding his mother's concerns. He had a naivete about him that matched his mischievous nature. He longed for adventure, but deep down, he understood the importance of his mother's guidance.

Miles, his green hoodie a stark contrast to his brother's, stepped forward and slipped his arm around Rio's waist lovingly. With a confident smile, he told her, "Don't worry, Mama. We'll be good. No more fights, I promise."

Rio smiled back, acknowledging that Miles always had a way of soothing her fears with his undeniable charisma. Known as "RJ" to his friends, he had a magnetic personality, effortlessly drawing people in with his charm and laid-back attitude.

With resolve in her eyes, Rio led her twin sons through the school gate, determined to give them the fresh start they deserved. The trio embarked on a journey into the unknown, hoping to forge new friendships and redefine their identities along the way.

Little did they know, this new school would provide them with countless opportunities, both joyous and challenging. In this unfamiliar world, they would uncover hidden talents, face unexpected dangers, and learn what it means to be true to themselves while navigating the trials and triumphs of high school.

•••

The hallways buzzed with excitement as the rumors about the enigmatic prowler named Miles circulated like wildfire. Whispers filled the air as students gossiped about the alleged incidents involving broken arms and daring escapes. Among the crowd stood two very different Miles - the reclusive prowler and the more timid and anxious RJ.

As the whispers grew louder, RJ's anxiety intensified, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt trapped, suffocated by the rumors that threatened to swallow him whole. His breaths came faster, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

Seeing the new kid on the brink of a panic attack, a young woman named (Y/N) who was a confident and fiercely protective classmate of all newcomers, stepped in. She wore her Hokage cloak, a symbol of strength and leadership, as she positioned herself between Miles - RJ, and the encroaching crowd.

"Back up, everyone!" (Y/N)’s voice commanded authority. "Give him some space and stop pestering him with these rumors."

Her declaration didn’t come as a shock to the onlookers seeing as how this was normal, and only some hesitated for a moment before backing away, allowing RJ a small reprieve from the overwhelming attention.

"Hey new kid, are you okay?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

Miles - RJ, managed a weak nod, grateful for her intervention. "Yeah, just... it's all too much."

(Y/N) put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know it's tough, always is for you new comers but don’t let the stupid need to gossip about some stupid rumors define you. You're more than what people say."

Miles - the prowler, observing the situation from a distance, couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and curiosity towards (Y/N). Her support and willingness to protect his twin Miles - RJ, struck a chord within him. Despite his secretive nature, he couldn't help but feel a connection with this girl who wasn't afraid to stand up for what she believed in.

The hallway started to clear as the bell rang, signaling the start of the next class. (Y/N) removed her Hokage cloak and handed it to Miles - RJ, giving him a gentle smile.

"Keep this for now," she said. "It'll remind you that you have friends who stand by you."

Miles - the prowler, couldn't shake the image of the girl from his mind. He knew he had to talk to his twin, RJ, about her. Approaching Miles - RJ after school, he found him sitting on a bench, lost in his thoughts.

“Yo,” Miles said, taking a seat next to him. "I saw you with some girl in the hallways. Care to explain?"

Miles - RJ's face flushed slightly, but he knew he could trust his twin. "Yeah, she helped me when I was almost having a panic attack. She stood up for me when everyone was bombarding me with questions about you and the rumors."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "She seems a little too invested in our affairs, don't you think? We can't trust anyone easily, especially not someone who shows up out of nowhere."

Miles - RJ nodded, understanding his twin's caution. "I get it, but she seemed genuinely concerned. She's different. I've never met anyone like her."

Miles, the prowler, sighed, torn between wanting to protect his twin and wanting him to experience genuine friendship. "I know you're craving connection, RJ, but be careful. People have hurt us before, and we can't afford to let our guard down."

"I won't be naive, Miles," RJ assured him. "But she's different from those who've hurt us. I know she can be a true friend."

The prowler studied his twin's eyes, searching for any signs of deception. Seeing only sincerity, he relented. "Alright, but stay cautious. I'll keep an eye on her too."

As the days passed, Miles - RJ and (Y/N) grew closer. She welcomed him into her circle of friends, and he began to experience a sense of belonging he had never felt before. They laughed together, shared stories, and supported each other through thick and thin.

Miles, the prowler, watched from a distance, his protective instincts on high alert. He saw how much Miles - RJ was opening up to (Y/N), and a part of him was happy for his twin, but another part couldn't help but worry. The past had taught him to trust no one and to protect RJ at all costs.

One evening, he decided to approach (Y/N) cautiously. "I've been watching you and my twin," he said. "I know you've been helping him, but don't think I'll let my guard down just because he likes you. If you hurt him, I won't hesitate to protect him."

“Damn…he wasn’t kidding. Y’all look exactly alike.” (Y/N) says and Miles raised a brow at her.

(Y/N) changed her expression from one of bewildered and met his gaze with determination. "I wouldn’t hurt him intentionally. I care about him, Miles 2.0.”

“Miles 2.0?” Miles - the prowler questioned.

“Well yeah, cause well he’s the first miles I’ve met and you’re, you know…”

Miles - the prowler, studied her carefully, searching for any signs of deception. But all he saw was sincerity.

"I'll be watching," he warned before disappearing into the shadows.

•••

A few weeks later, Miles - RJ mustered up the courage to invite (Y/N) over to his place to play video games. As the day arrived, he nervously waited for her at the door, trying to ignore the creeping thoughts of doubt seeded by Miles, the prowler's, constant warnings.

When (Y/N) arrived, she had a bright smile on her face and greeted RJ with enthusiasm. "Hey, RJ! I'm so ready to kick your ass!”

“Sup miles 2.0!”

Miles - RJ's heart fluttered with happiness as he led her inside, introducing her to Miles - the prowler, who was sitting on the couch, looking aloof and distant. He eyed her cautiously but nodded in greeting at her nonetheless. "Hope you can handle our intense gaming skills."

(Y/N) chuckled, undeterred by his dismissive demeanor. "Oh, I'm sure I can handle it. I'm not one to back down from a challenge."

As they settled in for some gaming, Miles - the prowler, couldn't help but taunt (Y/N) throughout the play, trying to unnerve her. But to his surprise, she responded with playful banter and didn't let his jabs get under her skin.

"You’re actually decent at this," Miles - the prowler, said, genuinely impressed not that he would show it.

(Y/N) grinned. "Told you I wouldn't go down without a fight. Bring it on!"

As the gaming session continued, Miles - RJ noticed a subtle change in his twin's demeanor. Miles - the prowler, seemed less guarded and a bit more at ease, thanks to (Y/N)’s carefree and friendly approach. They laughed, teased each other, and the competitive spirit in the room was infectious.

The boys mom, Rio, couldn't help but peek into the living room, where her two boys were engaged in laughter and fun. A warm smile spread across her face, relieved to see her boys making a new friend.

As the evening went on, Miles - the prowler, gradually let down his defenses, realizing that (Y/N) was genuinely a good person who meant no harm. He was confused by his own emotions and the newfound camaraderie they were sharing. It was a mix of vulnerability and comfort that he hadn't felt in a long time.

As the night came to an end, (Y/N) got up to leave, exchanging a hug with the RJ and a fist bump with his brother.

"Thanks for inviting me over, RJ. I had a blast," (Y/N) said warmly.

“No problem!” Miles - RJ says.

“And good play with you Miles 2.0. I had fun.”

"Yeah, it was... fun," Miles, the prowler, admitted, trying to hide his genuine happiness.

"See you guys at school tomorrow!" Y/N called as she headed out the door.

As RJ closed the door, he turned to his twin with a raised eyebrow. "So, what did you think?"

Miles - the prowler, hesitated for a moment before cracking a small smile. "She's something else, that's for sure. I don't know what to make of it, but... I don't hate it."

RJ laughed, pleased to see his twin warming up to (Y/N). She's amazing, isn't she? I'm glad we made a friend like her."

"Yeah, me too," Miles, the prowler, admitted, surprising even himself with his honesty.

•••

A month had passed since (Y/N) became an integral part of their lives, and both the boys found themselves experiencing an unexpected but undeniable crush on her. Each twin had their own little moments with her that left them captivated.

Miles - the prowler, couldn't help but remember the time they were walking home together after a study session. (Y/N) had stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, and he instinctively reached out to steady her. As their hands briefly touched, he felt a jolt of electricity, and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly pulled away, trying to hide his blush, but he couldn't forget how his heart had raced in that brief moment.

For Miles - RJ, it was the time they were at the local arcade, cheering each other on during a competitive game. (Y/N) had leaned in close, her laughter infectious and her eyes sparkling with excitement. In that moment, Miles felt an overwhelming warmth, as if he had found someone who truly understood him. Her support and genuine interest in his passions made him feel seen and valued in a way he had never experienced before.

Both twins found themselves looking forward to seeing (Y/N) at school every day, eager for the chance to talk and share moments with her. They noticed how her presence could brighten even the darkest days and how her playful banter with Miles - the prowler, left him confused but with a faint hint of a smile.

As they spent more time with her, they discovered shared interests and values that deepened their admiration for (Y/N). She was caring, compassionate, and fiercely loyal, always standing up for them and others when needed. The way she treated everyone with kindness, regardless of their reputation or background, earned her even more respect from the twins.

Miles - the prowler, found himself drawn to her strength and independence, a stark contrast to his own solitary nature. He admired the way she could hold her own and how she wasn't afraid to challenge him, refusing to back down from his teasing or sarcasm.

Miles - RJ, on the other hand, cherished her ability to make him feel at ease, like he could be himself without judgment or expectations. Her easygoing nature helped him open up, and he found himself sharing thoughts and feelings he had never shared with anyone else.

One day, while hanging out in the park, the twins decided to talk openly about their feelings for (Y/N). Sitting on a bench, they shared their different perspectives, realizing they both felt a deep connection with her that they couldn't ignore.

"I can't believe we both have a crush on her," RJ admitted with a blush.

"Yeah, it's... strange," his twin Miles said, trying to wrap his head around his own feelings. "But I can't deny that she's had an impact on both of us."

Miles - RJ nodded. "She makes us feel understood, you know? And she's just so caring and genuine."

Miles - the prowler, smirked. "Well, I hope you're not expecting me to back off. I don't give up that easily."

Miles - RJ chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything less. But let's remember she's our friend first and foremost. We don't want to jeopardize that."

The twins agreed to keep their feelings in check and focus on cherishing the friendship they had with (Y/N). As they continued to spend time with her, they found comfort in knowing that they didn't have to face their feelings alone.

•••

After school, Miles - RJ and Miles - the prowler, found themselves unable to contain their feelings any longer. They knew they had to talk to (Y/N) about what they had been experiencing. With nervous excitement, they cornered her near the school's courtyard, determined to be honest and vulnerable.

"(Y/N),” Miles - RJ began, his voice slightly shaky. "We need to talk about something important."

(Y/N) turned to face them, her eyes curious. "Okay, what's up?"

Miles - the prowler, took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "We both... we both have feelings for you, (Y/N).”

Miles - RJ nodded, adding, "It's true. We didn't plan for this to happen, but we can't ignore how we feel about you."

(Y/N) blinked, seemingly taken aback by their confession. "Wait, you both have feelings for me?"

"Yeah," Miles - the prowler, confirmed, his voice earnest. "It's confusing and unexpected, but we can't change how we feel."

(Y/N)’s lips curled into a small smile. "Damn, well, I can't help but admit that I have feelings for you both too..."

“Both of us or…”

The twins looked at each other in shock, their hearts racing. It was a revelation they hadn't anticipated, and the rush of emotions was overwhelming.

Before they could say anything else, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. (Y/N) glanced at them, her expression a mix of emotions.

"I’ll leave a note in your locker after school" she said, stepping back.

“Wait which one of us?!” Miles - the prowler asked.

“You’ll see…”

Torn between anticipation and uncertainty, Miles -RJ and Miles - the prowler, spent the evening restless, eager to meet (Y/N) the next day and finally find out what the future held for them.

The night passed in a blur, and the next day arrived faster than they expected. When Miles finally reunited with (Y/N), the atmosphere was charged with tension and excitement.

"So," Y/N said, breaking the silence. "Seems you got my letter.”

“Yeah I did.”

Miles - RJ ending …

Miles - the prowler ending …

Both Miles ending …

(Haven’t written the endings yet but when I do I’ll have them tagged and listed)

[maudie-duan]

Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

A/N: Happy weekend! Today, we get to get a little glimpse of Shiloh and Gemma’s friendship, which adds another layer to these, dare I say—star-crossed lovers…Are Harry and Shiloh destined to be together?

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl

@lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning: Strong language, minor angst, eventual smut, emotional.

Gemma: Hello. I’m Gemma, and welcome back to a brand new season of Good Influence. It’s a new season, if you can believe it. We’re going to start things off with something a bit different because this week, we have a special guest. You guys may know her from YouTube, but as of late, she’s expanding past the screen. Not only is she her own boss, but dare I say, a model? So joining us this week is my friend Shiloh Taylor, who has been a fan of our podcast for a while now…

Shiloh: Yes, a big fan. Hello…I’m really excited to be here. 

Gemma: I’m so excited you’re here. It’s kind of surreal to see you in person.

Shiloh: I know, we’ve only ever talked on the phone.

Gemma: To think we haven’t done this sooner is crazy…

Gemma called me last night to tell me she was having Shiloh Taylor on her podcast and wanted my approval to mention my brand. I laughed, saying I always trusted any decision she made and that she would never need my consent. Just a casual reference to Shiloh’s name sent me into a tizzy, not to mention that I was still on a high from our photoshoot. 

I lay in bed that night, dreading what I knew needed to happen—ending things with Olivia—and I promise that it’s not because of Shiloh. This was a long time coming, and maybe Shiloh was the push I needed, but Olivia and I were already standing at the edge long before Shiloh. 

That morning, we were set to go to London, and as I watched Olivia pack her bags, I knew then that this would be the last time. The last time I would have to sit through her rambling on about plans for our future, the last time I would see her fresh from the shower—Hair dripping onto a tee shirt she stole from my luggage, with every intention of returning it, but now would be another shirt missed to the abyss of lost girlfriends—what’s one more?

She could have everything if it meant I could be free—Her name was bittersweet, rolling off my tongue with more contempt than needed. I wasn’t trying to hurt her any more than I knew this would hurt us both. Her desperation lit a slow-burning flame within me, licking my insides every time she felt the need to fill the clumsy gaps of silence; it made my head spin.

The heat rose and flickered, smoldering into anger, festering deep in my chest at every annoyance she smothered me in. Her constant attempt to forge our plans for the days ahead stoked at embers and had me on the verge of snapping. It made me sick watching her—the tension was there—I felt it looming over us like a thick cloud of smoke, filling our lungs with a heavy silence, knowing we were doomed with every unspoken word that hung between us.

I was an asshole—impatient and angry at myself because why was it taking so long, and somehow she knew she was in the line of fire. When I told her I needed space and that I didn’t think we should go to London together. She didn’t say a word; she just gasped out a sign of defeat, tears already rolling down her cheeks, as she continued packing, nodding her head in agreement as a sob crept up her chest.

I knew this was the right thing to do—in my head, I didn’t want her spending any more time with my family. I had made my mind up—but what I should have been was: firm and clear because now I’m sitting in the guilt of it all, flying to London with the scent of her still lingering on my lips, in a weird sort of limbo, somewhere between a break and a breakup—I’m such a fucking coward, I think, while I stare out the window, listening to Gemma’s podcast on full blast, my AirPods jammed tight in my ears so no one can hear what I’m listening to. 

G: Okay, so you just flew in from Italy yesterday, is that right?

S: I did…I did. It was my first time there…

G: Oh my gosh, really?

S: Yes, and I’m not going to lie, it was sort of a whirlwind.

G: Really? You’re laughing, so is that like “wow, I can’t believe how amazing that was?” kind of whirlwind

S: Yes, oh gosh, like so amazing, and terrifying…and exciting, but it’s also like a “wow, I’m so exhausted, and I think I need to call my therapist.

G: And if I’m right, you went to the Gucci show?

S: Yes—I went to the Gucci show…and it’s still kind of hard to believe…

G: Well, yes, I can believe it. You’re amazing! You looked stunning, by the way—

S: Thank you—

G: No, really. I saw your posts and thought, “I don’t think I could ever pull that dress off,” but Shiloh looks stunning.

S: That so kind, no—It was like “imposter syndrome” to the 100th degree, being a part of it all…

G: I can imagine it’s quite intimidating…

S: Like so intimidating…and I kind of felt like a pretentious jerk because I couldn’t slouch in that dress.…like whatsoever, and let me tell you…my core muscles haven’t been that sore in a long time.

G: I’m sorry—I’m not laughing at you…I’m laughing with you. 

S: No—No—it is funny…

G: So then you probably saw my brother there, then?

S: Your brother?

G: Yes, I know, it’s hard to believe we’re related, but yes, Harry was there.

S: Oh…shit…as in Harry Styles? 

G: Yeah, I know, right?

S: No—like, I totally forgot that he’s your brother…

G: Really? It’s usually the first thing people say to me…

S: Wow—! I mean…I guess I’ve only ever called you by your first name, at least that’s what you are in my phone as just: Gemma.

S: Hmmm…okay…yeah, so that’s your brother…I did meet him—

S: But—like so briefly—we didn’t exchange a lot of words…

S: I’m sorry—wow, I must be tired because I think I knew that. My friend is a super fan. He’s not usually on my radar unless she is breathing him into existence with a “fun fact” or taking over the stereo in the car. 

G: No…that makes perfect sense and is also a breath of fresh air, so thank you for that…

S: God—anytime…Any chance we’ll be able to edit that last part out…I don’t want his fans coming for me…and also, my friend might kill me for exposing her…

S: Oh, wait…I can see Annie on the other side of the glass…are we cool? Thumbs up means yes…yes. I’m sorry…I love you…so much…

G: There will be no killing on this show…this is a safe environment. Okay…so to kind of steer the conversation toward more of a topic we cover…and stop me if you feel it is too personal, but you said you needed to have a check-in with your therapist.

S: Oh yeah, no— that’s fine. I think that’s the perfect subject to cover…yes, I love my therapist…maybe a little too much, which I’m not sure is healthy or if it’s like borderline…obsessive.

G: think a lot of people could say the same…

S: Oh, for sure. I talk to her several times a week, depending on my mental state.

G: Is it more of a ground thing now?

S: I would say now that I’m older, it’s more of a grounding thing, but it took a lot of work to kind of get to this point. I mean to be completely transparent. I don’t have the best relationship with my family, specifically my mom, so I feel like a lot of the time, my therapy session covers things I would normally reach out to my mom about…or a mom in general.

G: I know what you mean, and that’s great because I think there are a lot of people in that type of situation, so I definitely believe in finding the best support…or support system—

S: Oh, no—yeah, for sure. I don’t think I would be the person I am without the anchor of the support system I’ve created…or I guess sort of happened upon.

G: And you probably need a good support system in your line of work.

S: Oh, definitely…I can’t imagine giving as much of myself away without being able to replenish in some way.

G: Yes, gosh, and that’s so important for anyone really…

S: So important…but there’s always a learning curve…you know? and it takes a while to understand your needs…I guess to recognize what those needs are and how to meet them. I always say it’s like a fine line of giving and taking…and toeing that line can be dangerous.

S: Oh—so dangerous…and what do you do when you feel you’re veering too far on either side?

S: hmmm…I don’t know…that’s a great question. I guess it’s become kind of second nature. I would say first off therapy, and second would be maybe self-care…finding some way to recenter myself…

G: Gosh, yeah, and self-care is so important, as well…and what does that look like for you?

S: Oh man…hmmm…honestly, before, I always thought it was like buying face masks or taking a bubble bath…and maybe that’s how it started, and those things are great, but I really think the best self-care is getting to the root of who you are as a person, learning what those needs might look like, and aligning with them—

S: I also think that it’s important to learn and realize that not all self-care looks the same…and that it doesn’t have to come wrapped in this shiny idea that “I can only recenter myself if it looks a specific way…”

G: Yes, and that’s so true, especially the older I get, the more that specifically has changed, or I guess…I’m learning how important it is to truly take time for myself. 

S: Exactly…and sometimes it does look like taking a luxurious bubble bath with all the fixings, or maybe it’s making myself the perfect cup of tea and taking the time to drink it while it’s hot, or it’s a call to a good friend who knows me and can hold space for that rant…or more recently for me to have a good cry…

G: Ahhh, yes—a good cry…

S: Yes, a good cry…that was me this morning, but luckily, I had a good friend to remind me that it’s okay to feel those feelings…

G: Yes, because that’s the stigma, right?

S: Oh, one hundred percent…I know I was raised to think crying was a form of weakness, but fuck it, sometimes you need a good fucking cry, you know?

G: Yesssss….you really do. In fact, I think if I really wanted to, I could cry right now…and that takes a lot for me to admit…

S: Oh, my god, dude, me too…

G: Don’t start crying, or I’ll cry, and then this podcast session might get really boring…

S: Oh no—it’s too late…I’m sorry, Gemma…maybe there’s something about your calming energy…

G: No…I could say the same for you…we’re actually almost out of time, so this might work out perfectly. 

S: Thank god—because I just saw you look over at your mommy, and I might lose it. 

G: I know…and she gives the best hugs…so be ready, mum. I think we all need a round of hugs…

I’m crying by the end of the episode, indulging in yet another pity party of my own undoing—I didn’t know how I could be both happy and sad at the same time—I’m always so impressed with my sister and the way she has marked her own path. I know it couldn’t have been easy to have lived in my shadow, especially on those days when it felt like I had all the sunlight shining brightly on me. 

It’s taken a lot of work and understanding—unconditional love from those closest to me to support this, thankfully—continuously growing lifestyle. It’s constantly changing, but their love is unwavering—their love is home.

And here I am thinking maybe Shiloh fits that, jumping ahead of myself before I’ve even found a landing or an end with Olivia—it’s selfish and desperate, and I can’t figure out what’s driving this need—is it want or need—can both reign true at the same time? And as the plane lands and I’m rushing to my destination, the only thing I’m thinking about is calling Shiloh. It’s my only mission. I need to talk to her, and I will do anything to make it happen—to gather the thoughts that pass through her mind, delicately picking each one like a flower swaying in an open field. I wanted something more to take with me—Something I could keep for the long days ahead.

It was desperation that was driving me, and as I peer down at Gemma’s name, readying myself like the hopeless fool I’ve become. I click her name, bringing the phone to my ear, and when she picks up on the third ring, I bury my desperation because I’m lucid enough to know that desperation never looked good on anyone.

A/N: Oh fuck, Harry!!! What are you doing, dude? What is Harry’s plan even? Will he call Shiloh??? Shout out to everyone still following this story. I appreciate you dearly! Also, the tag list is still open!

Previous Chapters<-

[munson-blurbs]

Chapter 5: You Don't Even Know

Collaboration with my one and only, @corroded-hellfire 💚

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: The road ahead after your surgery is not as smooth as you'd hoped. That means only one thing: boyfriend Eddie to the rescue.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, angst, hurt/comfort, body image issues, therapy session

WC: 6.3k

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

You take a deep breath before you speak. This could be the end of everything; your relationship with Eddie fizzling out faster than it sparked. With just one confession, you could destroy the best thing that ever happened to you. Yet something pushes you to forge ahead; you’re unsure if it’s courage or stupidity. 

“My cousin’s been staying with us,” you start. “She’s never been nice to me; kind of a bully, actually. The night of the…earthquake…she asked me if I was still dancing, and when I said yes, she just laughed and said, ‘I thought ballerinas were supposed to be skinny.’

“I went to the studio that night—I know where the owner keeps her spare key—and I brought a bottle of vodka with me. I just sat there and drank until the room was spinning, trying to forget what she said. And then everything started shaking and rattling, and by the time I realized it wasn’t just in my head, a beam fell from the ceiling and landed right on my leg.” The confession pours out of you, shame filling your body until it’s too stifling to ignore. “It sounds so stupid now that I say it out loud.”

Eddie rests his hand on top of yours, giving a little squeeze. “‘S not stupid, baby,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb along your trembling knuckles. “I mean, I completely disagree with you, but that’s because I can clearly see how gorgeous you are.”

“Eddie…” you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his compliment, but the whine in your voice gives away your disbelief. 

“No, I’m serious. But I get it, I think.” He scrunches his nose in contemplation. “Because the thought of you seeing my scars, like, up close and personal…make me so fuckin’ nervous.” He uses his free hand to tug at the hem of his shirt as though he’s subconsciously trying to cover himself up more. 

You shake your head. “It’s impossible for any part of you to not be beautiful,” you tell him. Just the thought of him without his shirt on makes you flush with warmth, reminding you of another reason you wish your injuries could just heal. 

“Well, Sunshine, now you know how I feel about you.” Eddie leans in and plants a smacking kiss on your lips, punctuating it with a mwah! “Beautiful, beautiful, my beautiful girl.”

“I just can’t believe that a guy like you thinks I’m beautiful,” you muse, equally to yourself and to him. 

Your boyfriend—God, it feels good to refer to him like that—stares at you incredulously. “A guy like me?” he scoffs. 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Um, kinda?” Eddie gives a little laugh. “I mean, I’m a decent dude, but I’m not some cool, macho guy like…I dunno, Steve Harrington, or something.”

You squeeze his hand and smile. “Don’t want Steve Harrington. I want Eddie Munson: the sweetest, bravest, most incredible man I’ve ever met.” You cock your head teasingly. “Unless you think I should be with Steve? I mean, since he’s so cool and everything—”

“Nope!” Eddie chirps, bringing your hand to his mouth and fake biting it with his lips. “All mine. Forever. No refunds.” The brightness in his eyes fades to concern when he notices that you’ve stopped giggling. “Talk to me, babe. ‘S okay.”

You purse your lips in an attempt to stave off the tears. “I just…I can’t believe I ruined my dream because of some bullshit comment.”

Eddie kisses your palm, sending tingles down your spine. “Hey, hey…there’s still hope. Don’t throw it away yet, baby. You’ve got one more surgery plus physical therapy. And your beautiful boyfriend will be there with you every step of the way.”

Giving him a small smile, you bring Eddie’s hand up to your lips and press kisses on any inch of skin not covered by his chunky rings. “Promise? Promise that my beautiful boyfriend will be there?”

“I’ll be cheering you on the whole time. Might even bring pom poms and everything.”

That gets a small burst of laughter out of you, which Eddie takes as a win. He laces his fingers with yours and runs his thumb over the soft skin on the back of your hand. 

“Everything is going to be okay,” he vows. 

After Eddie leaves (he has to practically be chased out by the hospital staff), you’re sitting in your room and flipping through a magazine from January 1982. There’s a soft knock at the door, and you look up with a genuine smile. 

Mandy walks over to you, stapled sheets of paper in her outstretched hand. 

“What’s that?”

She smiles kindly. “Given the nature of your injuries and the trauma from your second surgery, Dr. Sanoj is recommending that you speak to a therapist,” she explains. “There’s a signed referral and a list of recommended—”

“Don’t need it,” you interrupt coldly. You feel bad; the nurse hasn’t done anything to warrant such a frigid attitude, but you can’t bite it back. “I’m fine. I just need to get through this last surgery and I’ll be on my way.”

“Okay,” Mandy says, keeping her grin a bit more tight-lipped, “well, I’ll just leave it here,” she places it on the dresser with a small pat, “in case you change your mind.”

The second she leaves, you lunge for the papers, crinkling them into a ball and tossing them in the nearby trash can. Therapy? It isn’t bad enough that your leg is busted; now they think there’s something wrong with your brain, too? No, you don’t need therapy. You need to be home, in your own bed, getting back to life as you once knew it. Therapy is only going to keep you stuck in the past; you need to move forward. 

When Eddie walks into your room the next morning, it brings a much needed smile to your face. Sleeping in a hospital is next to impossible, and now after so long like that, you’re pretty sure you don’t remember what a good night’s rest feels like. 

“There’s my girl,” Eddie says as he takes a seat in the chair next to your bed. “How ya feeling today?”

“Better now,” you tell him. He slips his hand into yours and leans back as you channel surf, trying to find something decent to watch. “It’s a shame the soaps aren’t on during the weekends.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I can recount everything you’ve missed,” Eddie says, throwing you a wink. He leans even farther back, the chair resting on just its back two legs when something catches his notice in his peripheral vision. Lowering the chair, he takes a proper look at what caught his eye, and sees a few pieces of crumpled paper in the trash can. It’s mostly too folded and creased to see what they are, but the word “therapists” is bolded on a crinkle facing his direction. 

Eddie doesn’t want to be nosy, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he pulls the paper ball from the garbage. You’re too focused on the episode of Alf and laughing at the alien puppet making another joke about eating a cat to notice Eddie smoothing out the papers in his lap. 

“Sunshine?”

“What, you’ve never seen Alf?” you ask, never taking your eyes off of the television. “He’s not actually going to eat any cats.”

“No, it’s just…what’s this?”

Turning your head away from the screen, your face drops when you see what Eddie’s been looking at. It was bad enough the hospital staff thought that you had something wrong with your brain, now your new boyfriend is going to see all this and think it too. 

“They, uh… Um, Mandy brought me that yesterday. I guess the doctor wanted me to talk about all the shit that’s gone down with a therapist.” You shrug, leaning back against your pillows. “But I don’t need that.”

Eddie doesn’t want to push you. He knows you’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions, but he’s worried. 

“You need to take care of yourself, baby.” Eddie sighs and gives your hand a squeeze. “Please.”

Frowning, you look down at the papers in his lap and then back up to his face. “Why do you think I’m not taking care of myself? I’m in the hospital. Where else could I go to get better taken care of?”

“No,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “I mean, mentally.”

A bubble of anger starts to grow in your chest. “Why does everyone think I’m crazy?”

“Sunshine, no one thinks you’re crazy. There’s just been so much happening in such a short period of time. You’ve experienced a rollercoaster of emotions and this could help you feel better.”

“Eddie, there are people who lost their homes. Their loved ones. Why would a therapist want to talk to someone who’s only hurt because she was wasted at the wrong time?”

“Baby,” Eddie says, his voice kind but firm. “I don’t want to fight with you. I just…I’d like you to reconsider. This isn’t because anyone thinks you’re crazy. I promise. It’s because you’ve been through a lot, sweetheart. Yeah, a lot of us have, but I’m concerned about you right now. It would make me feel better.”

You don’t intend to snap at him. He’s only trying to look out for you, and you know that. But it also feels like he isn’t listening to you and it’s frustrating. “Why don’t you go to therapy then?”

“I…I do.”

That shuts you up. Shame fills your body as you shift yourself on the bed. You were just crapping all over therapy and talking about it being for crazy people when your perfectly wonderful boyfriend sees a therapist. 

“I didn’t know that,” you admit in a soft voice. 

“Well,” Eddie says, scratching the back of his neck. “‘S not like it’s something I go around talking about to hot girls I’m forced to be roommates with.”

His humor takes some of the sting out of the shame. He can’t be too upset with you then. 

“I started going after my dad left. All the social workers said it would be a good idea for me. I begged Wayne not to take me ‘cause I didn’t wanna spend time with some strange adult that I didn’t know. Besides…I felt the same way as you. Like, I have my uncle, who actually takes care of me. Why should a shrink waste her time talking to me when she could be helping kids who didn’t have anyone? But I’ll tell you what. It helped. I became less angry, more happy. Therapy turned me into the sexy goofball you see here before you.”

A small laugh bubbles out of you and it brings a smile to Eddie’s face. 

“Please, baby?” Eddie gives you his best puppy dog eyes and you let out an annoyed groan.

“You know I’m a sucker for those eyes! That’s not fair. But fine. Yes, I will go to therapy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Eddie picks up your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I’m proud of you.”

“I didn’t do anything yet,” you argue, but he just silences your protest by pushing his lips against yours. You melt into him, reveling in the warmth you feel when he’s near. 

“So, how are you feeling today?”

Well, isn’t that the million dollar question. 

You look at the therapist, Sophie, sitting in the chair opposite the sofa you’re slouched into. “I dunno.”

You expect her to purse her lips, maybe peer over her glasses in admonishment, but she just nods. “Makes sense. You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal for our emotions to be scattered after a while.”

“Mhm,” you chew on the thought, trying to hide your surprise. “Sometimes…like, okay, I have this boyfriend. His name is Eddie, and we actually met here. In the hospital.”

Sophie offers an encouraging smile. “Tell me about Eddie.”

And so you do. You tell her everything—minus the whole alternate dimension ordeal—noticing the way your lips tug upwards as you describe how loving and caring he is. 

“But even with him, it’s like…things that made me happy just…don’t anymore. And I don’t wanna pretend like I’m happy when I’m sad, but I also don’t wanna constantly bring him down, y’know?”

“Absolutely. Have you talked to Eddie about this?”

“Kind of? He’s the one who encouraged me to see you, actually,” you admit. “I’m not used to asking people for help.”

Sophie nods again, kindness evident in her expression. “It’s hard to do. But I promise you, you’re stronger because of it. And talking to a therapist also allows you to talk to Eddie about happier things, because your mind won’t be so preoccupied.”

You consider this. “I never thought about it that way,” you muse. “Thank you.”

“That’s my job.” Sophie grins. “Now, whenever you’re ready, we can talk about your injury.”

There’s a long pause before you speak again, swallowing slowly. “Okay,” you finally say. “I’m ready.”

In the week since you began therapy you don’t feel like your journey is over by any means. But there’s a certain lightness about you. It could be just knowing that Sophie is kind and compassionate and willing to listen to you. Maybe it’s because, like she said, you could talk with Eddie about happier things now. Whatever it is, it’s led you to feeling more prepared for your final surgery. 

Laying in your bed in your room, your mom and Eddie sit with you while you wait for them to bring you down to the operating room. Your mom works on some knitting where she sits near the foot of the bed, and Eddie holds your hand from his spot up near your head. 

“This is it,” Eddie says, giving your hand a squeeze. “After this, it’s a few days in recovery and then you get to go home.”

Shrugging one shoulder, you reply, “But I’ll still have, like, a million years of PT.”

“And I’ll be cheerin’ you on the whole time. Pom-poms and everything.” 

The mental picture of Eddie shaking pom-poms while you’re trying to get strength back in your leg has you letting out a small giggle. 

“What’s so funny?” your boyfriend asks.

“Nothing,” you answer. “Just glad to have my own personal cheerleader.”

“Well, you need some motivation. If it’s not me coming up with little dance routines to entertain you, what would it be?” Eddie’s smirk is playful and it makes you want to kiss it off his face. Which reminds you of what that other motivation could be. 

“I think I’ll be plenty motivated,” you tell him in a hushed tone. “Gotta get some strength back so you and I can have some fun.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and it takes everything in him not to look over his shoulder at your mom. But the way his eyes dart in her direction has you basically reading his thoughts. Are you crazy? In front of your mother?

“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. “You and I have fun all the time, Sunshine.”

Your mom’s voice startles the both of you. “We both know that’s not what she means.”

The door to your room opens and two orderlies come in to wheel you down for surgery.

“Oh, thank God,” you breathe out, willing your face to cool down. 

“We’ll be right here when you wake up,” Eddie promises, and your mom squeezes your hand, careful of the IV. “Just, maybe wake up a little faster this time?”

You giggle and roll your eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

Eddie looks like he wants to say something else, but he just manages a tiny smile before the nurses take you into the OR. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Just a few more hours and I’ll be reunited with Eddie. 

“Sunshine? Sunshine, are you awake?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice sounds too distant, and you practically have to claw your way out of the anesthesia fog back to reality’s surface. 

“I think she’s starting to wake up,” you hear him saying, though you’re not sure who he’s talking to. “Sunshine, take your time, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

You take that as permission to fall back to sleep, body not yet ready to shake off the drowsiness. When you wake up again, your throat feels like sandpaper. 

“E-Eddie?” you manage, wincing at the scratchiness in your voice. 

“Sunshine,” he breathes a slow exhale of relief, rushing to your bedside. He grabs your hand and rests his forehead against it. “Baby, oh, thank fucking God. I was so scared you wouldn’t wake up again.”

You use your tongue to coat your chapped lips with whatever saliva you can, though it isn’t much. “Water.” It’s all you can choke out. 

Eddie nods, reaching under his seat and grabbing a half-full bottle of Poland Spring. “Hope you don’t mind my cooties,” he jokes lamely, but you’re too parched to even pay attention. You chug the remaining water as quickly as you can, which isn’t too fast, considering all of your muscles are still weakened. 

“Th-Thanks,” you mumble as he takes the empty bottle from you. “Was it…did it work?”

Eddie smiles. “Doc said it was a success. Just a couple months of PT and you’ll be good as new.”

“‘Good as new?’” you question disbelievingly. 

His cheeks tinge pink. “Okay, maybe that’s just me hyping you up. But the rest of it was word-for-word.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “‘M so glad you’re okay, Sunshine. Don’t wanna lose you now that you’re mine.”

You squint to try and read the clock hanging on the wall. “What time is it?”

“3:45 AM.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “How are you still awake?!”

Eddie chuckles, kissing your hand. “Your mom and I have been taking turns grabbing coffee. That’s actually where she is now.” 

As if on cue, your mom appears with two steaming paper cups, one in each hand. She almost drops them both when she sees you. Her eyes well with tears, and she’s rendered speechless, putting down the coffee cups to pull you into a hug. 

“Hi, Mom,” you say as she squeezes you gently in her arms. 

“Oh, my baby,” she coos. Reluctantly, she lets go and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You look good! And the doctor said that everything—”

“Eddie told me,” you say with a sheepish grin. “Can I, um, have one of those coffees?”

Both your mom and Eddie give you skeptical looks. Eddie cocks an eyebrow while your mother crosses her arms over her chest; a long cry from the loving embrace you just received. 

“Coffee? Sweetheart, you just got out of surgery,” your mom says, as if you’d forgotten.

“Yeah, and they make you fast before surgery, not after,” you retort. 

“Why do you want coffee?” Eddie asks. 

Shrugging your shoulders, you find that your muscles are more tense and stiff from laying down so long than you’d previously thought. “Wanna stay up and talk with you guys.”

“You need coffee for that?” your mom questions, slightly defensive. 

“When I’m tired I do,” you grit out, getting a little irritated by all the questions. You just want some damn coffee, you’re not asking them to score you some cocaine or anything. 

“Sunshine,” Eddie says in that tone of voice that begs you to agree with him. “You need to rest. Your body’s just been through a lot—not to mention all it’s been through before. Either me or your mom will always be here when you wake up. You don’t have to talk with us now. Try and get some sleep.”

The instinct is to push back, to challenge him that you know your body and what it can handle. But between his adamant voice, him having a point, plus the fact that you really are tired, you cave. Settling back against your pillows—but not without a small huff so they’re both aware of your dissatisfaction—you make yourself comfortable in the small hospital bed. After a moment of deliberation, you hold your hand out towards Eddie.

“Compromise. I’ll try and sleep if you hold my hand until I get there.”

A soft smile overtakes Eddie’s features as he slips his ring-clad hand into your own. “I think I can live with that arrangement.”

The hospital needs to keep you for a few more days before you can be discharged. You can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel, but you feel like you have to run for it and running isn’t something you’re capable of at the moment. The good news is that you’ve been moved back into your old room and get to share with Max again. Her condition has definitely improved since you last saw her, but you didn’t know her before any of this so it’s hard to tell if she’s back to her usual self or not. The way she teases Eddie for never leaving your side has you thinking this is her regular ol’ personality shining through. 

Someone comes in everyday to help you with physical therapy. Sometimes it’s a breeze, other times you want to punch the poor guy helping you when he says, “Just five more minutes!”

You do all of this on a leg that was shattered not too long ago, you think bitterly. See how slow five minutes really is. 

“So, I haven’t seen this physical therapist guy,” Max says one day after your session, “but I’m guessing he has two perfectly good legs that weren’t crushed and operated on?”

“You would be correct,” you say as you resituate yourself in bed. Asshole, you think—even though you know it’s not true and he’s a very nice man.

“Wait, me or the guy?” Max asks. Oh, shit. You must’ve said it out loud by accident.

“Never you, Max. Sometimes I feel you’re the only one who gets me,” you tell her.

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Eddie says as he strolls into the hospital room, a gaggle of four teenage boys and one girl following in behind him. He plants a smacking kiss to your scalp and you giggle. “How’re you doing, Red?” he asks Max. 

“Pretty good,” she says, a smile tugging on her lips. She pauses for a second. “Not as good as you two, though,” she adds mischievously. 

Before you can ask her to elaborate, one of the boys takes her hand and kisses her cheek, and you watch her melt in his embrace. That must be Lucas, you surmise. 

“Yep, this is Lucas,” Max chirps, beaming. It’s almost as if she—

“Hey, Casanova,” a scrawny, floppy haired boy calls from behind Eddie, “you wanna introduce us to your girlfriend?”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, of course. Guys, this is Sunshine. My girlfriend.” He enunciates the title proudly. “Sunshine, this is Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair. You’ve already had the displeasure of meeting Henderson,” he stops to see Dustin flip him the bird, “and these are two of their friends, Will Byers and Jane Hopper. But, uh, I’ve been told that she also goes by El.”

“Nice to meet you all.” You offer your real name, trying to keep Sunshine as Eddie’s special nickname for you. “Eddie never stops talking about how amazing his friends are, so it’s great to put faces to the names.”

“Well, Eddie hasn’t stopped telling us about this incredible girl he calls Sunshine,” Lucas says from Max’s bedside, teasing Eddie more than you. “We figured we should get to know her for ourselves.”

“And see if she was real,” Mike pipes up, the tiniest semblance of a grin on his face. 

Eddie throws his arms up in exasperation. “Jesus H. Christ! I mean, Henderson met her, and you still didn’t believe me?”

“I knew she was real,” Dustin offers, raising two fingers slightly. 

“Thank y—”

“However, you guys weren’t dating then, so I needed confirmation that she’s actually your girlfriend.”

Eddie grits his teeth and rolls his eyes. “I hate you all so much.”

The boy who Eddie introduced as Will Byers gives you a small smile. “You’re a dancer, right?”

“I used to be,” you murmur, trying not to think of how basic flexibility tasks are now too strenuous for you to complete. “Maybe I will be again someday.”

El sits by your bedside and gently touches your hand before glancing up at Eddie. “She is beautiful,” she says to him, and Eddie’s entire face flushes pink. 

“Okay, thank you all for thoroughly embarrassing me,” Eddie grumbles. “Why don’t you little sheep go take Red on a field trip to the cafeteria so I can get some time with my girl?”

Mike frowns. “But I’m not—”

“Wheeler, I swear to Ozzy that if you try and say you’re not hungry, I’m going to tell every girl in this town about the time you accidentally wore one of Nancy’s blouses to school.”

That gets them moving, the gang helping Max into a wheelchair. As she approaches Eddie, she reaches out to him pulls him close enough for her to whisper. 

“Just tell her, you idiot,” she says firmly. 

Eddie’s startled by her frankness. “Tell who, what?”

“Tell Sunshine that you love her.”

“How did you—okay, we’re gonna need to talk about this later,” he stammers, ushering the kids out into the hallway. He plops on top of the hospital bed and leans up, kissing you until you’re smiling too hard to continue. 

“I like your friends,” you tell him once your lips part. “Especially Lucas. He seems really sweet with Max.”

“Yeah, that boy’s got it bad,” Eddie jokes, hoping you don’t call him out on his hypocrisy. 

Luckily, you seem to skim over Eddie’s own head-over-heels behavior. “Speaking of Max—what did she say to you when she was leaving?”

“N-Nothing, just some weird freshman humor I guess,” he stammers. Now would be the opportune moment to admit his true feelings, but he can’t work up the courage. Soon, he tells himself. I’ll tell her soon. 

The day that seemed like it would never come has finally arrived. Your discharge papers should be brought up at any moment for you to sign off on, then you’re good to go. It’s been so long you almost forget what your own bedroom looks like. What you do remember is that your bed is big enough to fit both you and Eddie in it. 

Speak of the devil… Eddie plops down next to you where you’re seated on your hospital bed. A flowy sundress was the easiest item to get on without irritating your legs and your boyfriend hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you since he’s seen it. 

“Excited to be going home?” Max asks from her bed.

“I am,” you say. “It feels weird, honestly. I haven’t even seen the sun in months, except for what peeks through the window. Now I get to actually step outside.”

“Well,” Eddie says. “You can be wheeled out into the sun. Hospitals won’t just let you walk out.” 

“They need to stop fussing over me—they’ve done it long enough,” you say, waving a dismissive hand towards the larger hospital outside your door. 

“Now it’s my turn,” Eddie says, tugging down the sleeve of your dress to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. The feeling of his lips on your skin sends a shiver up your spine, which Eddie notices with a look of glee. 

“Ya know,” you say, nudging Eddie gently in the ribs. “You and Wayne can come stay at my house. I know the trailer’s almost all fixed up now and that you might be able to move back in a few weeks, but at my place at least you’d have a real bed instead of Gareth’s couch. And Wayne would have the whole guest room and bathroom to himself.”

Eddie’s brow pinches in slight confusion. “You only have the one guest room, though, right? So, how would I also have a bed?”

“Oh my God,” Max groans. “I’m pretty sure your girlfriend is saying you can sleep in her bed with her, Loverboy.”

Eddie’s face tinges with pink as he looks from her to you. “I-Is that what you meant?”

“Yeah,” you say, a shy smile quirking up the corners of your mouth. “Only if you want to, of course. I get it if you’d rather stay with your best friend and not want to lug all your stuff around when you’re just going to have to do it again in a few weeks.”

“No, no,” Eddie says quickly, shaking his hand as he lifts your hand in his own. “I would love to come stay with you. Gareth’s great but if I have to try and fall asleep to him playing his damn video games on more time, I’m gonna shove his drumsticks somewhere in his body. And his mom’s been driving Wayne crazy, too. She doesn’t like having beer in the house and she practically force feeds the man vegetables when all he wants is meat.” 

“Guess we’ll be roomies again, huh?” The smile is starting to ache your cheeks, but you couldn’t care less. Eddie goes to reply, but he’s cut off by Mandy stepping into the room with a clipboard full of papers. 

“And here we are,” the peppy nurse says. “Everything is all good to go and I just need you to sign by the X’s.”

“Gladly,” you murmur as you practically snatch the pen off of the clipboard. 

“And your chariot awaits,” Mandy says once you hand the completed papers back to her. An orderly comes in pushing a wheelchair and Eddie’s quick to help you get settled in it. 

“Oh,” you say when Eddie begins to start pushing you. When you gesture towards Max, he wheels you over so you’re able to take the girl’s pale hand in your own. “I really liked being your roommate, Max. And as long as I can get someone to schlep me around, I’ll be here to visit you. And when you get out, we’re gonna come up with schemes to get our boyfriends to buy us stuff.” This is said with a mischievous sparkle in your eye as you glance up at Eddie.

“I already have a few tricks that work for that,” Max says. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you my ways.”

You chuckle and give her hand a soft squeeze before letting Eddie wheel you out of the room and out of the hospital for your first time in months. So much has happened and changed since you first went in. You have all these new friends and the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. The dark days you’ve gone through would have been far darker were it not for them. 

“How is it?” Eddie asks as he helps you into your mom’s car. It was much easier to get you into this than up in Eddie’s van with your injuries. “Life on the outside?”

“You make it sound like I was serving time in a prison.”

“As you should, you thief.” Eddie closes the passenger side door before you can ask him what he means, but he picks right back up where he left off when he slides into the driver’s seat. “For stealing my heart.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you say through a laugh. “I notice you save the corny and cheesy stuff until we’re alone.”

“Well, duh,” Eddie says as he starts the car. “Can’t have everyone knowing the resident freak is a moony-eyed schoolboy over his girlfriend.”

“Schoolboy, huh?” you question with a smirk. “Wouldn’t happen to have a uniform, would you?”

“Who would’ve thought my Sunshine is kinky?”

You slowly lean over to kiss the spot below his ear. “Just wait until I get the all clear from the doctor,” you tease. 

“Fuck, Sunshine,” Eddie hisses, adjusting himself in his pants. “Y’can’t do this to me.” 

“Sorry,” you shrug, leaning back in the seat and getting comfortable, or as comfortable as you can be given the throbbing in your leg. 

“Real convincing,” he grumbles, but he presses a wet kiss to your cheek before pulling away from the hospital. With the building literally and figuratively in the rearview mirror, a weight is lifted from your shoulders. You’re free. 

Well, almost. 

Though you’re no longer bound to the hospital, you still have physical therapy three times a week. It’s exhausting and often disheartening, especially compared to your agility before the accident. 

Eddie, as always, is your saving grace. He’s with you every step of the way. Usually, his enthusiasm motivates you, but on one particular day, your frustration gets the better of you. 

You’re trying—and utterly failing—to keep your balance on your bad leg when Eddie calls out, “you got this, babe; I believe in you!”

“Stop it!” you snap, putting your weight back on your stronger foot. “Just…just stop lying to me, Eddie!” Tears well up in your eyes, and you hastily brush them away. 

His brows crease in confusion. “I’m not lying to you,” he insists, hopping off of the equipment he’s been sitting on. “Sunshine, you’re amazing. I can’t believe how much progress you’ve made.”

“It’s true,” your physical therapist, Paul, pipes up. “You’ve exceeded all expectations. It’s remarkable, actually.”

“Then why can’t I even balance on this foot? I used to be able to do pirouettes and a la seconds without a problem, and now I’m hobbling around like a little old lady!” At this rate, you’d never be able to make a comeback to dance. You’d be lucky if you could walk without tripping over your own feet. 

Eddie takes your hands in his, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’ve gotta cut yourself some slack,” he gently reminds you. “You’re only human—a human who happened to be injured in a serious, um, earthquake.” His eyes meet Paul’s and they share a moment of recognition before the therapist gives you two a moment of privacy. 

“Sunshine, come here.” Eddie takes a seat in a chair and gently maneuvers you into his lap. One of his arms wraps securely around your waist while the other traces patterns on top of your sweatpant-covered thigh. “I know you’re frustrated. Have you been talking about it in therapy?”

“Yeah,” you say. There’s a moment of you picking at the collar of Eddie’s Dio t-shirt before you continue speaking. “Sophie encourages me. But we also talk about what life would be like if I never get back to my old strength.”

“And what would that look like?” Eddie asks.

Sighing, you shake your head before burying it in Eddie’s neck. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble against his skin. 

“Hey.” Eddie rubs one hand soothingly up and down your back. “You’re still you no matter what, sweetheart. I know you want to get back to where you were before the accident, but even if you can’t, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” you say. And logically, you do. But the emotional part of your brain can’t seem to accept that. It’s revolting against the idea of you not being the immaculate dancer that you were before. But you’ve been through a lot and you need to give yourself grace—dear lord, Sophie’s words are starting to sink in. 

“I fell for you when you couldn’t even get out of your bed,” Eddie reminds you. “I didn’t give a shit one way or the other because I was too busy looking at how beautiful you are and mesmerized by your kindness.”

“Eddie,” you say with a shake of your head. 

“What? You don’t believe me? Trust me?”

“Of course I trust you. I just think you’re trying to make me feel better,” you admit with a shrug. 

“I mean, I am, but only by telling you the truth. Sunshine, I don’t think you understand everything that you’ve done for me. When I was rolled into that room, everyone thought I was a murderer, but you were nice to me from the moment I came to. You gave me your jello, for Christ sake. You were so kind. You didn’t even hesitate.”

“You helped me too, you know.” Moving your gaze up from the pale expanse of his neck, you meet his eyes as you look up at him from beneath your eyelashes. “Every single time I felt like crying, you made me smile. I couldn’t have gotten through these shitty days without you.”

“We make a good team, huh?” Eddie asks you, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “Look at us. We started off as strangers and now…I think I love you.”

The admission has tears springing to your eyes and it’s the first time in a while they’re not from frustration. The grip you have on Eddie tightens, as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear into thin air after he’s made this confession.

“You love me?” The words come out barely louder than a breath, but he still hears them. 

“Yes,” Eddie says, more confident in his answer now that it’s already out there. “I love you. So fucking much, Sunshine.”

“I love you too.” The words feel right falling from your lips; like you were always meant to say them to him in this moment. Leaning forward, you let your forehead rest against his. Slightly chapped lips meet your own and the two of you exchange the softest and lightest of kisses. 

“All right, my love,” Eddie laughs. “Y’ready to kick some more ass?”

You look into his beautiful brown eyes and nod. “Yeah,” you murmur, clearing your throat to stand firmer in your answer. “I got this.”

--

taglist: @thebrookemunson, @mystars123, @h-ness1944, @hazydespair, @ajkamins, @aysheashea, @jasminelafleur, @brittney69, @arsonfrogger, @brassreign, @lunarzstarz, @aftermidnightwriting, @justtryingtobecreative, @micheledawn1975, @kailynn-exe @afunkyfreshblog @fangirling-4-ever @crimsonsabbath @babyexpertlampskeleton @whenshelanded @ches-86 @acmbooksfilmtelevisionandreads

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group G Round 2: #G7 vs #G3

#G7: A romance between a prince and a herbalist

#G3: Slime farmer kid travels around helping people

Details and poll under the cut!

#G7: Snow White with the Red Hair (Akagami no Shirayuki-hime)

Summary:

Although her name means “snow white,” Shirayuki is a cheerful, red-haired girl living in the country of Tanbarun who works diligently as an apothecary at her herbal shop. Her life changes drastically when she is noticed by the silly prince of Tanbarun, Prince Raji, who then tries to force her to become his concubine. Unwilling to give up her freedom, Shirayuki cuts her long red hair and escapes into the forest, where she is rescued from Raji by Zen Wistalia, the second prince of a neighboring country, and his two aides. Hoping to repay her debt to the trio someday, Shirayuki sets her sights on pursuing a career as the court herbalist in Zen’s country, Clarines. Akagami no Shirayuki-hime depicts Shirayuki’s journey toward a new life at the royal palace of Clarines, as well as Zen’s endeavor to become a prince worthy of his title. As loyal friendships are forged and deadly enemies formed, Shirayuki and Zen slowly learn to support each other as they walk their own paths.

Propaganda:

This is my absolute favourite romance anime of all time. The characters are delightful, and the romance is well-paced, with plenty of healthy communication between the two leads. The story never feels boring, managing to pull off both gentle slice of life and exciting adventures with ease. It features gorgeous animation by Studio Bones and a lovely soundtrack.

Trigger Warnings: None.

#G3: By the Grace of the Gods (Kami-tachi ni Hirowareta Otoko)

Summary:

Deep in the forest, far from any human contact, there lives a child named Ryouma Takebayashi. He engages in the rather strange hobby of keeping various types of slimes as pets. Furthermore, despite his young age, he has a sturdy physique and good compatibility for magic. All of this is because, having endured much hardship in his previous life, three gods grace Ryouma with a second chance to pursue one goal: savor the wonders of life.

After three years of comfortable solitude pass by, Ryouma meets people that will change his current life forever. When he encounters and helps some soldiers tend to their wounded comrade, the group convinces him to accompany them to visit the nearby town's ducal family. Ryouma agrees and soon embarks on a journey to explore the vast world beyond his home.

Propaganda:

It’s a calming, adorable anime about helping people and being fulfilled with life. Honestly, not much happens, but it’s the sort of series that you can just watch at the end of the day and feel healed. The protagonist is an adorable and levelheaded kid, people around him are NICE and everything feels good.

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how they’re presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[jouliejihan]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑶𝑵 𝑨𝑰𝑹! - hueningkai × fem reader

𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺: When Y/N and her eccentric friends decide to host the 'Love On Air' podcast, they think they can heal the heartaches of all HYBE Uni students.  But when love begins to bubble up behind the scenes, Y/N finds herself at the center of a messed up love triangle. While she tries to save broken hearts, a shy student, Hueningkai, does everything to win her heart. With clumsy dating advice, accidental encounters and a chaotic podcast, will love triumph or end up in a hilarious mess?

"Tune in with us guys, cause Love is On Air!"

TAGLIST (open, send ask or comment to be added) @full-sunnies @unh0ly-dr3am3r @enhacolor @mackjestic @beabeanice @fairy-of-sugar

previous • masterlist • next

3 - Alberta beef n' Ginger beer trio

WARNING: mention of alcoholic beverages, readers, drink in moderation

A/N: how abt this easter egg? Thanks to @amakumos 's amazing series, Love On Air was born! Thanks baby! Keep going with your masterpieces!

meanwhile...

It was a cold, starry night when Jay parked the car in front of Incheon Airport. _____ felt a mixture of anxiety and joy as she prepared to be reunited with her friends, Jake and Lily, who she had spent time with in Australia.

A few years ago, when she was 16, she decided to go on an exchange to Brisbane, in celebration of her birthday. It was a new adventure in an unfamiliar place, but she was looking forward to exploring and meeting new people.

It was during this journey that he met Jake, a charming and funny boy who studied at the same exchange school. From their first meeting, they forged a special connection, sharing laughs, stories and unforgettable moments together.

As their friendship grew, she began to feel something deeper for him. His captivating smile, his sense of humor and his kindness won her heart. However, there was a hitch: Jake was dating Lily, another Australian student from Marysville, who was also spending her holidays in Brisbane.

Though she felt a small twinge of sadness knowing this, she knew that Jake's happiness was important to her. She decided that she would do her best to support her friend and help him find happiness with Lily.

With that in mind, ______ started planning a cute and romantic date for the couple. She carefully chose the location, a quiet beach with a stunning view of the sunset, and prepared a picnic basket filled with the lovebirds' favorite treats on the sand.

On the day of the date, she was nervous, but her determination to see her friends happy was stronger. She took Jake down to the beach he excited but disappointed to see her friend leave so early she asked:

"Leaving so soon? Stay here with me for a bit"

"Sorry, Jake, I gotta… she stuttered. "Work in some things at the dorm. Have fun, okay?

As the couple enjoyed their romantic picnic, she watched from afar, feeling mixed emotions. She saw them laughing, talking and sharing special moments. Although her heart yearned to be in Lily's shoes, she was grateful to have the opportunity to be a part of their happiness, even if it was in a different way.

At the end of the date, she joined them, her eyes were teary but overflowing with genuine joy.

"I hope you enjoyed my little surprise!" _______ smiled

"Are you kidding?! This is beautiful! Thank you! But how do you…?

"I know you Jake! The connection you share with each other is unique and special. This is what I feel iny heart."

Lily also expressed her gratitude and hugged her.

"You're a wonderful girl. Thanks for helping us create such special memories."

Despite the unrequited feelings, she felt a deep joy at having contributed to her friends' happiness. The friendship between them strengthened even more that day, but unfortunately, it did not last as _____ imagined. On the last day of their exchange, Jake passed by her room in the dorm and saw her packing her bags and was in shock.

"What… what's all this?!?!"

"Unfortunately my time here is over. In a little while I'll be heading back home."

"Oh no, you won't! Not now, not like this! Come here!"

⊹⊱•••《 💗 》•••⊰⊹

The long-awaited farewell day in Brisbane arrived. Jake and Lily wanted to make sure their friend had a memorable send-off before catching the flight back home. They decided to take her to an amusement park, where they could enjoy an afternoon filled with emotions and laughter.

________ felt nostalgic as she walked through the streets of Brisbane towards the park. She was grateful to have met Jake and Lily, who had made her exchange experience even more special.

At the amusement park, the trio of friends boarded roller coasters, spun on Ferris wheels and challenged their nerves on thrilling rides. Laughter and squeals of joy echoed through the air as they enjoyed themselves like there was no tomorrow.

In the midst of the fun, they stopped at a game stand, where Jake got her a stuffed dolphin. It was an affectionate gesture that represented the friendship they shared.

"Jake… no need!" ______ smiled putting her hand in front of her mouth

"But you deserve it! A special little gift for our very special friend!"

She hugged the dolphin tenderly, feeling the emotion overflow in her heart.

"Thanks. I will keep this little creature with a lot of love. It'll always remind me of the amazing times we had here.!

The afternoon at the amusement park was filled with joy and fellowship. As the sun began to set, they walked back to the car, sharing smiles and memories of their time together.

The time has come to say goodbye. Jake and Lily accompanied her to Brisbane Airport, where warm hugs and words of gratitude were exchanged.

"Jake, Lily, thank you for everything. You guys made my experience here unforgettable. Gonna miss you guys a lot."

"We'll miss you too, _____" Jake hugged stroking his long, straight auburn strands

"But we promise to never forget everything you've done for us." Now it was Lily's turn to hug her friend and then she released her, watching her go down the departure corridor. "Have a safe trip home, friend!"

"Take care!" Jake yelled waving at her

As she walked away, she looked back to see Jake and Lily waving with smiles full of affection and longing.

At Brisbane Airport, she _____ boarded the plane, taking with her not only the memories of her stay in Brisbane, but also the knowledge that true friendship transcends borders and miles. She knew they would always hold a special place in her heart, wherever she wanted them to be.

But what she didn't know was that it wouldn't be the last time they would see them. Long before they met, he was famous for his travel vlogs with Lily, among his loyal followers was Park Jongseong, who he kept in touch with on Twitter, Instagram, KakaoTalk and other platforms.

When mentioning his friend in one of his videos, Jay was surprised by the fact that both share the same friendship and have similar tastes, even if they are distant, the two enjoyed each other's company and imagined the day when they would meet in person. Now, 5 years later, this dream is about to come true.

As they waited in the arrivals area, anticipation rose in her. She imagined all the stories and experiences Jake and Lily would have to share. The longing was palpable, and her heart beat faster as the moment neared.

Finally, the doors opened, revealing Jake and Lily, who emerged with beaming smiles on their faces. _______ rushed towards them, their arms wrapping around each other in a tight, warm hug.

"Jake-ah! Lily-ah! I miss you guys!"

"Noona, how good it is to see you again! I already missed those warm hugs!"

"You guys are so dramatic!" she rolled her eyes and smirked "But it feels great to be here!"

As they walked towards the car, the conversation began to flow. There, Jake and Lily share their adventures, telling funny and heartwarming stories about their time on their travels.

"So Jake, tell me, what's the big news?"

Jake smiled, showing a glint of excitement in his eyes.

"I enrolled at HU! Starting tomorrow I'll be your Engineering classmate!"

______ was surprised and overjoyed at the news. She could barely contain the joy that spread throughout her body.

"Really?! This is amazing! I can't wait for us to be classmates. We're going to spend such great time together!"

As they celebrated the news, Lily became a little quieter beside them. She knew her path would take them in different directions.

"Unfortunately, I enrolled at the JYP Institute. My Marine Biology course will be there."

"So it looks like that's the end of our Alberta Beef and Ginger Beer trio, does it?" he scratched the back of his head

"Yeah, it is, but I promise I'll support you both no matter where we go in the future." the Canadian wistfully stated

"Pinky swear, noona?"

"Is this serious, unnie?" protested Lily

"C'mon! Do it with us!" the oldest asked

Then the three crossed their pinkies and sealed the promise to never forget the friendship they cultivated 5 years ago.

And a while later, they arrived at HYBE Uni's dorm. With the lights in the university parking lot still on, Jay could see through the window of his car some students leaving, others returning.

"Are you coming, noona?" questioned Jay

"Not yet. Me and Lily need some time alone, so, Jake, mind going ahead?"

"Of course not. Hyung, can you help me with the bags?"

"No problem!"

From the moment the Australian set foot in Seoul, the Canadian noticed that she was distant and quiet. Lily was never the type of woman to pretend to be shy or stay silent for no reason, she knew there was something wrong with her friend and as soon as the two got out of the car, she set out to find out, asking:

"Lily-ah, are you okay?"

"Unnie, do you have some time for some love advice?"

"I always have, so go ahead, pour your heart out to me."

"You see, Jake and I broke up before we moved here and…"

"Really?! But you were so happy together!"

"I know! But lately I didn't feel that euphoria anymore. And it seems that Jake feels the same way."

"Was it because of me?"

"No! You were an angel bringing us together! It's my fault that my feelings are changing and I don't know how to deal with it."

"When you live with someone for a long time, you learn about yourself and your feelings towards them, I don't understand what you fear so much."

"Regret. I'm afraid my feelings for him will grow back over time and I'll take drastic action when it's too late and he'll hate me for it. What do you suggest I do?"

"Did you guys talk about this before the move?"

"We do."

"So, there's nothing to fear! As this was a recent breakup, it's normal for you to miss the moments shared together, besides, it's not because you're not in love with Jake anymore that you don't love him! If he makes you happy and he feels the same, you can still be friends."

The Australian was trying her best not to break down in front of her friend, but when the Canadian woman smiled and placed her hand on her shoulder, she couldn't contain the lump in her throat and the tears streaming down her face, so she pulled it closer for a hug.

"I don't deserve a friend like you, unnie!"

"You're so pretty and wonderful, Lily. You certainly deserve to be treated like a princess, which I know you are."

"Thanks." _______ wiped Lily's tears with her thumb "Promise not to tell my story on your podcast? I don't want people hustling about my love life."

"Promise. Want Jay to give you a ride to your dorm?"

"Won't he mind?"

"I don't know, but I'll ask him anyway."

"Thanks."

As she wandered through the halls, she pulled out her cell phone and found a photo of the trio in her gallery, in one of the most chaotic moments in Australia.

On a Friday night, Lily and Jake decided to take ________ out for a fun night out at a local bar in Brisbane. It was a perfect opportunity to relax, unwind and create more memories together.

Sitting at a table, _______ was excited to try something new. As the waiter approached, she glanced at the menu and, intrigued, decided to order a bottle of ginger beer.

"Come on, guys! I want to see what it feels like to drink ginger beer. It should be interesting!"

Jake and Lily exchanged amused glances and agreed to try it too. Soon, the bottles were poured, and they toasted, ready to enjoy the night.

As the night wore on and she drank her third glass of ginger ale, she began to feel the brew's effect.

"Ahn, guys. I think I'm starting to get a little dizzy. I didn't know this beer was this strong!"

"Careful, _____, this drink can be tricky." Jake mocked

"But look on the bright side! You're starting to have fun!" Lily added

Suddenly music started playing in the bar, _______ recognized it immediately and started jumping up and down laughing out of nowhere.

"Is it Seventeen's Adore U? Man, I love this song!"

Why are you keeping a front?

I don’t know, I don’t know what will happen

Without hesitation, she got up from the table and started dancing and singing excitedly in the middle of the bar, attracting the attention of everyone around her.

So what I mean is, I want to know all of you

I’ll sing you, you-hoo, I’ll sing you, you-hoo

Even if my lips are dry, I need to say this baby

I adore you, I adore you, enough to get dizzy

Adore you!

Jake and Lily joined in on the fun, laughing and cheering as she let loose on the makeshift dance floor.

The funny and adorable scene continued as she expressed her joy and excitement through music. People around were amused by their spontaneous performance, and soon the whole bar was clapping and singing along.

After a while, _______ came down to the table, out of breath, but with a huge smile on his face.

"Who knew that innocent little face of yours guarded a k-pop star, huh?" Lily teased

"Oh, don't say that! That was humiliating!" _____ covered her red face with her hands

"What do you mean? It was fun! But take it easy next time we go out, okay?"

"Alright Jake!"

It was then that he had a brilliant idea. He spotted a man sitting at a nearby table with a cell phone in hand. He approached the men and asked kindly:

"Sorry to bother you sir, but could you take a picture of the three of us?"

The man smiled and readily accepted. The trio stood together, grimacing and laughing as the old man captured the image.

With a smile on their faces, they huged each other, making funny poses and enjoying the moment of true friendship.

After the photo, they thanked the lord and returned to the table, still laughing at the situation.

The night continued with more laughs, stories and unforgettable moments shared among the friends. She learned that some unusual choices can lead to moments of pure fun and special memories.

That night in that bar in Brisbane will remain in her memories as a moment when friendship strengthened and joy overflowed.

A/N: So the first couple our little angel got a together, was with her best friend who she had a crush on, and her first love advice was about their breakup...

[meilunye]

ewige Jugend (eternal youth)

♡ Ship: N/A ♡ Characters: Fischl, Bennett, Razor ♡ Genre: light-hearted ♡ Word count: 4,3k

This fic was written for Ex-Animo zine (volume 1: Mondstadt). 🍃 The characters assigned to me through RNG were Fischl, with Bennett and Razor as the side.

I hope you enjoy!

Fischl finds a bizarre handwritten map in her favorite fairytale book. Believing it’s a sign left by an unknown adventurer, she drags Bennett and Razor on a quest to seek the mysterious treasure.

Having grown up in a house cluttered with books, Amy naturally grew to believe her shelves held the response to all mysteries in the universe. It didn’t matter what kind of inquiry churned inside her mind: there would surely be a tome there to provide her with the answer she sought.

It wasn’t until she began to question bigger things (her purpose in the world, the love of her parents, the meaning of friendship) that she saw its limits. A library was ultimately forged by its owner and, as such, it harbored only what they wished for the beholder to know. Nothing about affection or sympathy could possibly be found in her cold house.

At the tender age of twelve, long before she chose an alias to go by, Amy found solace in a greater haven: the library at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. More than the embodiment of a single person’s will, that place was a huge collection of the world’s living spirit. The shelves were throbbing lungs that spread knowledge to anyone who craved it, with a mere handful of excluded topics.

Fairytales, folk stories, history books, scientific essays, philosophy debates, archaeology papers… Nothing was left unexplored. Before realizing what was going on in her heart, Amy— or, well, Fischl had ditched the cozy armchair in her bedroom to hang out at the public library instead, buried nose-deep into ancient tales that fueled her imagination.

So… what to do when even the almighty Favonius Library failed to bear useful answers?

Hours after her arrival, Fischl had double-checked every nook and cranny of the building, pushing as far as to sneak into the Grand Master’s office to ask for Lisa’s help. Not a single page in the entire archive seemed to mention the mystical place she was searching for.

Sprawled on a bench near the Anemo Archon’s statue, Fischl inspected once more the note in her pockets. There was no mistaking it: the hand-drawn map showed a path to the magical Holy Fountain, where “eternal happiness and youth” lay and “the answer to any inquiry” was within reach.

“It’s so strange that I don’t remember writing this,” she muttered to herself, staring at the faded ink on the yellowed paper. She couldn’t recall seeing the map before, though it was highly unlikely for a stranger to leave something of the sort inside her childhood fairytale book. “Where did I hear about this Holy Fountain before?”

When nobody but Oz was around to hear, it was nice to break out of character and drop the roleplay for a while. A hobby she had willingly chosen and pursued out of passion, but which could prove tiresome at times.

The starry night sparkled above their heads, silence enveloping the whole town. The citizens of Mondstadt were too busy either drinking their hearts out at the tavern or sleeping soundly in their beds to pay heed to a girl’s lonely ramblings.

“Maybe you’ve simply forgotten, mein Fräulein,” Oz pitched in. “Pardon me for my lack of tact, but I strongly disagree with your theory. It’s delusional at best to assume a stranger slid the route to a precious treasure inside a child’s book.”

With an offended snort, Fischl stood up from the bench and headed down the staircase. Her heels clicked against the stone tiles, a pleasant sound she had grown accustomed to. It made her presence impossible to miss. “I beg to differ. It must be a sign of fate.”

“And… why would a sign of fate be hidden in your secret diary? This is what I mean when I suggest you spend far too much time with miss Megistus—”

“Quieten thee, Ozvaldo.” Stopping in her tracks, Fischl snapped back to her usual personality, a rush of comfortable adrenaline immediately coursing through her veins. “It is decided. Seizing this holy manuscript, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung shall set forth on a quest to gather her loyal meinies, and embark on a journey to the depths of the mortal realm…”

Oz wasn’t following her, choosing to watch her prattle from a safe distance instead. It didn’t matter much, anyway. Fischl knew he would always be in her tracks while she traveled, no matter how near or how far. Such was the nature of their blood bond.

“Ah…” he sighed at last. “Don’t forget your parasol this time, mein Fräulein.”

✦🍃✦

In comparison to the majestic peaks of Liyue and the massive trees of the Sumeru rainforest, Mondstadt appeared like a flat land, with perhaps the sole exception of Dragonspine’s frosty summit. The straight cobbled roads, the hills and sweet slopes, the modest plants…

Or, at least, that’s what Fischl had believed all her life. After wasting the best part of her day climbing up rocks to reach her friends, she was starting to reconsider the imagery in her mind. Had Wolvendom always been so steep? Her palms were sprinkled with cuts from the dry branches of the wolfhook bushes scattered about the boulders.

When she finally found them, peacefully napping on top of a tree stump, her first instinct was to choke them for their audacity. Thankfully, her royal blood condemned such lowly acts. She coughed weakly to catch their attention, arms crossed proudly over her chest.

“Fischl!” Bennett was the first to react. He rolled around, almost falling down the log in the process. “What brings you here?”

Ah, her time to shine. Fischl had rehearsed her grandiose speech while fighting for her life on the cliffs of Wolvendom, her brain overworking to find words that would fit her persona. How should a proper princess invite her subordinates on a mission? “I have ventured hither on a pleasant stroll—”

“Mein Fräulein means that she ran here.”

“Oz.” A glare was enough to shut the raven up. Neither of her friends reacted to their banter, used to the daily script of her recital. It was surprising to notice they hadn’t grown tired of her antics yet, despite the passing years. “Ahem. I have ventured hither on a pleasant stroll to seek thy assistance for a crucial mission.”

A sparkle of excitement shone in Bennett’s eyes. “Oh, I smell the adventure! What kind of mission is it, Prinzessin?”

“It is a matter of life and death. A heilige Sendung.”

That was Razor’s cue to wake, shaking sleepiness off his body with a scroll of his shoulders. “Hi… Hilichurl sense dump?” he distorted her words, brow furrowed in confusion. “Is that food?”

“A sacred mission, you brute! We shall follow this divine Führung and…” Fischl slid the handwritten map out of her pocket and held it in front of their faces. “...chart our path towards the Holy Fountain of the Immernachtrealm.”

Ignoring her previous warning, Oz dared to translate her lingo into the commoners’ language yet another time. “Mein Fräulein means that she found this map out of pure chance in her childhood book and believes it was left by a mysterious adventurer.”

“What are we waiting for, then?!” Bennett sprang up on his feet in a cascade of dew drops. “Let’s go!”

Fischl pressed a gloved finger against his lips to bring him to silence. “Halt! You shan’t revel in the company of the Prinzessin der Verturteilung with commoner names. Thou shall be bestowed with fitting titles to match your noble status.”

“Titles?” Bennett tilted his head to the side. “Like, adventurer roles? I’m down!”

Not like he had a choice. As the most experienced roleplayer in town (if not in the entirety of Mondstadt, actually), Fischl was the one who set the rules of the game. Even the scornful astrologist Mona Megistus and the bubbly rocker from Liyue had quickly adapted to her terms and conditions.

“One hereby declares you… Jester of the Immernachtreich,” she announced solemnly, before turning to face Razor. “While thou… One shall address thee as the Guardian Dog of the realm.”

Razor wrinkled his nose. “I am no dog. I am a wolf.”

Fischl couldn’t help but giggle at his utter confusion. It was so entertaining to have people play along with her whims despite not having a full grasp of the situation. “You should feel honored and blessed.”

✦🍃✦

“O’ Jester of the Immernachtreich,” Fischl’s voice cried out from the back of the line, her hands gripping onto the nearby tree trunks to keep her balance. “Could you cease thy frantic chase? This fine expedition calls for thorough enjoyment at a graceful pace…”

Bennett scratched his head. “Erm, Fischl, I—” he cleared his throat emphatically. “I mean… Prinzessin, your Highness, this humble Jester cannot… huh, seem to find the boulder we’re looking for.”

“One can see as much.” She smiled, positively impressed by his fast learning and positive attitude. That was the kind of collaborator she adored the most: those who stayed in character and didn’t question her speech. “The sacred Karte should indeed lead us to a rock covered in ancient carvings, whereby we should find the entrance to a mystic Höhle.”

Bennett shoved a slim tree to the side, and was immediately slapped by the rebound. Yet another bruise to stain his cheeks… And one more bandaid that Fischl would need to apply on him later. “Yeah, but, huh. I see no mystic gizmo anywhere.”

“Höhle.”

“Höhle, yes. My apologies.” He cast an irritated glare at Razor, who had pretty much dumped the talking duty onto him. Since he could barely fathom complex sentences in their native language, that formal nonsense was far beyond his reach. “So, what should we do? We’ve checked every corner of the woods.”

Fischl halted her step in the shade of an oak’s foliage, deep in thought. Playful gusts of breeze spiraled through the branches and bushes, bringing about whispers and noises from distant lands. That must be why the area was named “Whispering Woods”, she figured.

A raven cawed its approval from afar. “Fine,” Fischl seized the message of her wild servant. “Let us return to our temporary palace and plan our following steps until the break of dawn. Darkness shall be our ally in this perilous mission.”

Bennett hopped behind her. “A wise decision, your Highness! Now, let’s—”

His voice bent into a high-pitched scream before growing progressively distant, as if he was falling somewhere. When Fischl turned around, he was gone. Razor’s back was bent over a hole in the ground, his arms stretched out in a vain attempt at pulling him up.

“Bennett!” Razor yelled. “Bennett!”

A muffled response came from below, in the bosom of the earth. “I’m fine! I’ve seen worse!”

Fischl stared at the cavity. Hidden behind a thick layer of leaves, smudged reddish paint had been poured into the carvings of a rock. It seemed that, in the end, their voyage hadn’t been a delusion… Perhaps, someone had seriously left the map there for her enjoyment. But who could be sneaking around her house, sneaking items into her childhood belongings?

“It appears our Jester has paved our way to success,” Fischl said, her heels sinking into the foliage around the entrance. The cave was enveloped in darkness— she might pose as a raven princess, but it was scary indeed. “Let us proceed forth, o’ servants of the Immernachtreich.”

She jumped into the void.

✦🍃✦

The back of Bennett’s head hurt when he came to his senses. A familiar feeling for him, given the number of daily falls he experienced. The wind blew strongly around him, whipping his arms and legs.

When and how did he arrive at Starsnatch Cliff? The last thing he recalled was slipping into a hole in the woods. Had his bad luck finally reached the point of causing space-time paradoxes?

“Why do you stick with me?”

He blinked. Although he hadn’t noticed her presence until now, Fischl was standing in front of him, on the very edge of the cliff. The outfit she donned was different from her usual goth attire: a frilly purple dress that made her look like a genuine princess.

That side of hers was new, and… Bennett could tell something was off. That stranger might have the appearance of his friend, but he was rather sure she was an impostor. “What do you mean? I stay at your side because we’re friends.”

“Lies!” Fischl cried. As if driven by her willpower alone, a fiercer gust of wind rose from beneath the cliff. Electro-infused feathers swirled with the breeze, whipping Bennett’s limbs like knives. “I know what you think deep down. I am a weirdo, an annoying and spoiled brat who can’t do anything but roleplay and bore her friends to death with unintelligible gibberish.”

“That’s not what I think,” Bennett shook his head firmly. “Nobody does. And well, if they do, then it sucks to be them. Because it means they don’t see how amazing you are.”

When Fischl lifted her head again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. “How amazing I am…?”

“Yeah!” Bennett showed her the best of his thumbs up. “You’re cool, fun to be around, and creative. Your mind crafts such complex and vivid scenarios! You’re also a powerful fighter, and you don’t back off from danger… I’m happy we met.”

Fischl was at a loss for words. She closed her eye, a trembling smile curving her lips. The world turned black at once, as if a thick black curtain had covered the sun. Bennett felt something grasp at his throat, choking him—

…Bennett woke up. For real, this time. While his lungs desperately begged for air, his shoulders heaving up and down in frantic breaths, he gazed at his surroundings. He was sitting at the bottom of the cave, with Razor still unconscious at his side.

Was it just a dream? It was oddly realistic. Perhaps, the stranger in his vision wasn’t that different from the Fischl he knew. It might be the embodiment of her inner dark thoughts, the self-destructive opinion she had of herself.

And which, as her buddy and loyal companion, Bennett felt in need to dispel. “Razor, this is no time to sleep!” He shook his friend’s body with his hand. “Wake up!”

“Where…” Razor groaned, regaining his consciousness little by little. “Where princess?”

Oh, true. Fischl wasn’t there with them, even though they were walking together on the surface. Had she fallen somewhere else? Maybe the cave had branchings invisible to the naked eye.

“Let’s go find her.” She couldn’t be too far.

✦🍃✦

The garden of her mansion was even more gorgeous than she remembered. Colorful flowers painted the bushes with their million bright hues, their scent a pleasant aura scattered about. Fischl’s mother loved tending to her plants more than she cared about her daughter and the dreams she trampled over.

The Immernachtreich should have been different. Nothing but purple roses should adorn the royal palace of Princess Fischl, scaring enemies away with their thorns. Ravens and armed knights should defend the ruling lady at the cost of their lives. Everyone in the kingdom was meant to exist with the sole purpose of making Her Majesty happy.

Of course, the reality wasn’t like that. Even though Fischl wasn’t in Mondstadt at the moment, but rather sitting on a cliff that reminded her of the Golden Apple Archipelago… it still didn’t feel like home. Her servants were cold statues, their hearts incapable of bearing emotions. They simply acted according to a script.

“Would this place become the Immernachtreich if I painted you purple?” Fischl mused, twirling a thornless rose in her hands. “Of course not, would it? The realm of the everlasting night only exists within my dreams.”

“Just like your confidence, after all.”

A perfect mirror of her own voice spoke at her back. Fischl recognized the person standing behind her with no need to turn around and meet her stern gaze. It was her fake self, the voice of her conscience calling her out on her lies.

She shrugged. “I thought both you and I knew that much,” she said. The rose’s stem snapped in half, cut by her purple lacquered nail. “We’re aware of how exhausting it is to put up an act from dawn to dusk. How pitiful and annoying we feel beneath our proud and carefree mask.”

“The weirdo who roleplays,” the fake Fischl recited. The grass under her boots withered with each step closer she took. “Have you heard what the old men say? This is what child neglect does to a young girl.”

The harsh judgment stang, like a blade piercing through Fischl’s chest. Was that really what people thought of her? Ah, well. How to blame them? They were right. “What is your aim?” she faced her enemy with a fiery glare. “You won’t get anything from me with some mere insults and accusations.”

“Far be it from me,” the fake laughed, the sound rippling through the silent garden in an uncomfortable wave. “But wouldn’t you be happier if you gave up trying? This palace was shaped after your deepest desires.”

She offered her open palm.

“So, why not ditch all those peasants who don’t understand you and spend eternity here, in your merriest garden?” Her exposed eye glowed an eerie hue of red. “Nobody would consider you a weirdo anymore.”

The first sliver of doubt crossed Fischl’s heart. Wasn’t she right? If she ceased trying to impress others or pretending to be someone she was not, she would finally be at peace. Alone with her raven servants, surrounded by nothing but the loyalty and respect she deserved.

The Immernachtreich had everything she ever dreamed of. Theater plays at any hour of the day, wonderful sights and the sea for miles on end, and neverending dusk framing the gorgeous corners of the kingdom. So, why was it so difficult to let go of Mondstadt?

“I see greatness in your stars,” the voice of Lady Megistus claimed from afar. “Your path may be uncertain and brimming with mistakes and obstacles, but I see the glorious end of the line. You will stand victorious.”

Fischl laughed. “Of course. How foolish of you to probe my fate, when greatness transudes from every inch of my very being.”

“Yyyes.” Mona frowned. “No need to thank me, Fischl.”

The fake’s hand drew closer. It was so tempting, so damn alluring. What was there for Fischl to lose, anyway? Pretending that people’s judgment didn’t hurt her or get to her was growing harder over time.

“I’m so glad we met!” Bennett chirped. “You’re so cool, Prinzessin!”

Fischl pouted. “Stop moving! I’m trying to put bandaids on your face, you fool.”

“Hah, you broke character,” he pointed out with a little wink. “Such an honor to witness it.”

“Come,” the fake beckoned. “Come to me, and find your happiness.”

“I…”

“It was fun!” Razor called out loud. “Princess speaks so long. But she is fun. Razor always laugh.”

Fischl flicked his forehead. “My title is Prinzessin, not princess. It means so much more.”

“Prinz…” he wrinkled his nose. “Prinz… essin.”

The impostor shook her head. “No need to hesitate. Now, come.”

“I’m sorry.” Fischl stood up, newfound courage bursting in her chest. “But I cannot.”

She was loved. It might not always seem like it, but she was surrounded by friends who genuinely cared and accepted her. And it was for their sake that she couldn’t go. Her confidence wasn’t going to falter— it already did once; it already did for countless years.

And well, she had grown past that.

“Fischl!”

Bennett’s voice crushed the spell. He appeared in the vision, passing through the illusory walls of the castle like they weren’t real. The palace trembled and faded, along with the mirage of the fake Fischl.

He hugged her close to his chest. “Fischl!” Bennett called again. “We found you! We were so worried…”

How could she not melt in this warmth? That was her home. That was her merriest garden. No raven servants or frilly dresses were needed. “My apologies, o’ Jester. It appears your majesty was lost in a daydream.”

“About the Immernachtreich?”

Fischl smiled, though neither of her friends could see it. “Something of the sort.”

✦🍃✦

The cave’s interior was quite linear. With the obstacle of regrouping behind their back, the trio managed to make their way through the remaining tunnels and forks effortlessly, their navigation skills honed through many years of adventuring in the unpredictable woods up on Stormbearer’s Mountain.

“We should be close,” Bennett said, taking yet another look at the map. Since they had reunited, Fischl had been uncharacteristically silent, lost too deep in her thoughts to continue his beloved hobby of roleplaying. The role of map-holder had thus fallen onto him. “Your map says the treasure chest is buried in the next space.”

Fischl showed her approval through a happy hum. “How marvelous!” She hopped in the lead, preceding her friends to the fated destination of their journey. “Let the bells of the Immernacthreich sing a song of victory! One hereby declares the whole kingdom shall feast and be merry for the Prinzessin der Verurteilung’s discovery of…”

The cave was empty— definitely not the usual treasure room of a dungeon, sprinkled with golden coins and precious jewelry for the conqueror to claim. The only object in sight was a handmade wooden sign.

“...the Holy Fountain of eternal youth?” Although she completed her speech, Fischl lowered her arms in a disappointed groan, baffled by the finding. That was it? Hours and hours of strenuous marching through the woods for… a child’s prank?

Catching a hint of her misery, Bennett walked to the center of the room to inspect the alleged buried treasure. “Well, someone definitely put this here for a reason. I have a shovel with me, maybe we should dig and see what we find?”

What could they hope to unearth from that shallow place? A few Mora, at best. Perhaps some ragged old journals, or something of equal nature. Surely bearing wisdom and forgotten knowledge, but nothing that would satisfy an adventurer’s spirit.

“This is like burny red girl’s treasure,” Razor broke in, sniffing the air in search of potential traces of Klee’s scent. “She hides bombs in ground. Razor goes and takes them out before lupical gets hurt. Big hassle.”

Fischl raised her eyebrows. Ah, alright, some digging wouldn’t hurt. “O’ Jester— I mean, Charter of the Immernachtreich! Her Highness the Prinzessin orders you to…”

“Yeah,” Bennett understood her message on the fly. “Gotcha. I’ll dig it up.”

The other two kept watch for any intruders or threats while the boy poured his best efforts into the task. Frankly speaking, Fischl wasn’t planning on helping him ex ante, given her poor affinity with manual labor. Plus, it didn’t help that Bennett was a magnet for bad luck: by the time he was done carving a hole in the pavement, the bruises on his body had multiplied tenfold.

“Razor never seen rocks fall on one person many times,” Razor commented.

Bennett glared at him. “Please, be quiet, Razor.”

As cliche as it might be, there was a minuscule chest at the bottom of the pit. Even though it was supposed to be an antique, a relic from the past that would grant them eternal youth, it looked rather fresh. Almost as if someone had buried it there a day prior and smudged some dirt on it to counterfeit its appearance.

“Ahem,” Fischl cleared her throat, determined to see the recital through to the bitter end. It may all have been in vain, but they had fun: what better way for their story to come to an end if not a formal ceremony to check out their loot? “One shall now examine the bounty our sacred coven has exhumed. Hear ye, hear ye, o’ dear dwellers of the Immernachtreich!”

Fischl’s fingers latched onto the casket. After a few taps in the correct spots, the lid came open with a deafening creak, some chunks of wood falling off and onto the floor. The content was bleaker than their (low) expectations: a stuffed animal surrounded by a multitude of colorful paper scraps.

“This is it?” Bennett peeked from behind Fischl’s back. “Is that a stuffed bunny? Hey, look, it has an eyepatch. Reminds me of you, Prinzessin.”

It couldn’t be…

“...Ozvaldo Hrafnavins the First?” Fischl gasped. How not to recognize her first companion as a newborn? Her mother had placed the bunny plush in her crib as soon as she was brought home, though it had to wait six years to get a name. “How can this be?”

Summoned by the homonymy, Oz appeared on her shoulder in a whirlpool of thunder feathers. “That… plush bears my same name, mein Fräulein?!”

But Fischl was far too gone to hear his voice. She grabbed the plush and held it to her chest, her mind racing towards happy memories of the past. Back then, she was lonely and miserable, surrounded by nothing but coldness and a heartbreaking lack of affection. Her books and that stuffed companion were her only escape route.

Lagging behind, Razor wrinkled his nose. “All this for… toy?”

“Nah,” Bennett said, a moved grin curving his lips. It was rare and wonderful to see Fischl so genuinely cheerful, radiating joy from every inch of her body instead of putting up a facade and playing pretend. “I think that’s a real treasure here.”

✦🍃✦

“There is a fountain of youth.” The voice of a young man echoed through the plaza, high up above the citizens’ heads. Busy with their routines, they didn’t notice his presence, a fleeting green spot on top of the Archon’s statue. His gaze, on the other hand, didn’t miss a detail across the whole nation. “It is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and to the lives of people you love.”

The wind carried distant sounds to his ears. The happy laughter of three friends in the woods, spiraling through the ancient branches. The tingling in a young girl’s veins that could only be caused by reuniting with her forgotten past, and coming to accept the woman she had grown into. Ah, yes— one of the best feelings for an Archon.

“When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.”

[i-dont-know-00]

Once upon a time, in the bustling city of New York, two girls named Emily and Bella met in a coffee shop near Central Park. Emily was a budding artist with a passion for painting cityscapes, while Bella was a brilliant engineer working on cutting-edge technology. Their paths crossed one rainy afternoon when they both sought refuge in the cozy café. Emily was sketching the raindrops on the window, and Bella, intrigued by her talent, struck up a conversation.

Over the next few months, Emily and Bella's friendship blossomed into a beautiful romance. They spent their weekends exploring art galleries, strolling through the park, and discussing their dreams and aspirations. Emily loved Bella's intelligence and determination, while Bella adored Emily's creativity and free spirit. They felt like they had found their soulmate in each other.

One evening, as they were watching the sunset from Bella's apartment, Bella received an urgent phone call. Her face turned pale as she listened to the voice on the other end. "I have to go," she said, her voice trembling. "There's something I need to tell you, Emily."

Emily watched in confusion as Bella hurriedly packed a bag and prepared to leave. "What is it, Bella? What's going on?"

Bella took a deep breath and looked into Emily's eyes. "Emily, there's something about me that you don't know. My father... he's not human. He's Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots."

Emily's mind raced as she tried to process this revelation. "Optimus Prime? As in, the giant transforming robot?"

"Yes," Bella nodded. "And there's more. Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons, is after me. He believes that by controlling me, he can manipulate my father and take over the world."

Before Emily could respond, the ground shook, and a loud crash echoed through the streets. The windows shattered as a massive robot, towering over the buildings, appeared. It was Megatron, and he was not alone. His minions swarmed the city, causing chaos and destruction.

Bella grabbed Emily's hand. "We have to run, Emily! He's coming for us!"

As they raced through the streets, dodging debris and evading Decepticons, Emily couldn't believe what was happening. She had fallen in love with the daughter of a legendary Autobot, and now they were being hunted by one of the most dangerous beings in the universe.

They found temporary shelter in an abandoned warehouse. Bella quickly activated a hidden communication device, sending a distress signal to the Autobots. Within moments, Optimus Prime and his team arrived, ready to protect his daughter and her beloved.

A fierce battle ensued between the Autobots and Decepticons, with Emily and Bella caught in the middle. As the fight raged on, Megatron confronted Emily, his menacing voice echoing through the warehouse.

"You think you can protect her, human?" Megatron sneered. "Bella will be mine, and through her, I will conquer the Autobots!"

Emily stood her ground, her heart pounding with fear and determination. "You won't take her, Megatron. Love is stronger than any power you possess."

As Megatron lunged at Emily, Optimus Prime intercepted, engaging in a brutal clash with his nemesis. The battle reached its climax when Bella, using her engineering skills, hacked into Megatron's systems and disabled him, giving Optimus the upper hand to deliver the final blow.

With Megatron defeated, the Decepticons retreated, and the city began to recover from the devastation. Optimus Prime approached Emily and Bella, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Emily, for protecting my daughter and showing such bravery."

Emily smiled, holding Bella's hand tightly. "I love her, and I'll do anything to keep her safe."

Optimus Prime nodded. "Your love is a powerful force, stronger than any weapon. Together, you and Bella will forge a future filled with hope and strength."

And so, Emily and Bella's love story continued, stronger than ever. They knew that challenges lay ahead, but with the support of the Autobots and the strength of their bond, they were ready to face anything that came their way.

[mynicosensesaretingling]

Nico x fem!reader

Note: @scarlettstockwell I am so sorry for the long wait. Life has been very busy lately and I struggled to come up with something sweet and fluffy since it’s certainly not my strong suit. Nevertheless I still hope you get some enjoyment out of this :) <3

A gentle autumn breeze rustled the leaves as Nico and (Y/N) strolled through a quaint little town nestled in the heart of the countryside. The air was crisp, and the scent of cinnamon wafted from the charming cafes lining the cobbled streets. The cozy atmosphere wrapped around the pair like a warm blanket, and Nico's hand in (Y/N)’s made the day even more enchanting.

As the two of them meandered through the town, Nico's eyes sparkled with excitement. "There's this delightful little tea shop I used to visit during races nearby. Would you like to check it out?"

The prospect of visiting a tea shop in such a charming setting sounded irresistibly inviting, leading (Y/N) to nod with a smile. Smiling back at her, Nico led the way, his steps filled with a certain lightness that mirrored the joy bubbling inside him. It wasn’t often that he got to exist in the moment and spend a day off with his girlfriend.

Entering the tea shop , (Y/N) felt like she was stepping into a storybook. The scent of freshly brewed tea mingled with the soft hum of conversation, and the warm hues of the interior created a cocoon of tranquility. Still holding her hand in his, Nico guided her to a cozy corner, where plush cushions adorned a snug window seat.

The two of them settled in, as a waitress approached to take their orders. Nico, with an air of familiarity, recommended a special blend, assuring that it was his favorite. The warmth in his eyes spoke volumes about the fond memories associated with this place and (Y/N) couldn’t help but silently study the nostalgic sparkle in his eyes. Sharing a moment of comfortable silence amidst the comforting ambiance, the door chimed softly, announcing the arrival of a familiar face.

"Nico! Well, I didn't expect to see you here," Lewis exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine warmth, as he approached their table. Nico stood up, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "Lewis, it's been too long. This is (Y/N), someone very special to me." the ex-driver couldn’t fight the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. Smirking slightly, Lewis extended a hand, his eyes crinkling in a friendly manner. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). Nico talks about you a lot." his voice lowered , as he put on a playful expression of seriousness. “Like I really mean A LOT.”

Smiling the girl shook his hand, feeling an immediate sense of camaraderie. "Oh believe me I know how that feels, Lewis. Nico's shared many stories about your adventures on and off the track." Her eyes held a teasing sparkle as they wandered from Lewis to Nico, who playfully narrowed his eyes upon hearing Lewis and (Y/N) team up against him. “I don’t talk THAT much.” the blonde tried defending himself, as he sat back down. Earning a raised brow from both his best friend and his girlfriend in return. The tea shop's ambiance seemed to amplify the bonds of friendship, providing a sense of warmth and connection. Nico, Lewis, and (Y/N) chatted about racing memories, life after retirement, and the simple joys of finding solace in charming corners of the world.

As the afternoon unfolded, the cozy tea shop became a haven for shared moments and shared laughter. The conversations flowed seamlessly, and the warmth radiating from the teacups seemed to mirror the growing camaraderie between the three of them.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the town, Nico couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Introducing his girlfriend to Lewis in such an intimate setting had exceeded his expectations. The atmosphere was so welcoming that it felt like the tea shop itself was celebrating the reunion of old friends and the forging of new connections.

When it was time to part ways, Nico, Lewis, and (Y/N) left the tea shop with hearts full of gratitude. The cozy afternoon had not only created cherished memories but also laid the foundation for a friendship that promised to blossom with warmth and familiarity.

Walking through the quiet streets, under the soft glow of street lamps, Nico wrapped an arm around his partner’s shoulders. The warmth of his touch echoing the coziness of the day, and as he glanced back at the tea shop, the memories of laughter, friendship, and shared tea lingered like the fragrance of a perfect blend.

Hi I was wondering if I could get a part two to the Nico Rosberg story I asked about where Nico and Lewis become friends again and it’s super fluffy and Nico introduces his girlfriend to Lewis

I’ve never been that good at writing fluff stuff but I will try my best!! I’ll hopefully get it done before new year’s :) <3

[upsideoffalling]

vulnerable - ellie williams

summary: you and ellie are best friends, but there’s something more there. you figure out what that ‘something’ is together.

warnings: language, bit of mwah and sexual tension i guess. i only proofread this once, because if i do it more than once my autism and anxiety tells me its fucking horrible and to never ever post anything ever again and delete my tumblr account and move to mexico so im sorry if there are mistakes.

notes: the last of us ii ellie x fem reader. Fluff and i think a little bit of angst as well (if i did it well) also a bit of spice (nothing too spicy though) both characters are 19.

word count: 2.6k tehe

a/n: my first ellie fic, hope you guys like it. It’s literally been 3 months since ive posted anything and here i am, not dead!! (only on the inside) okay, i am putting the authors note here because i know a lot of you might not make it to the bottom, or might not read the bottom, but let me say this: if you’re one of my peter parker stans, i promise you, something is coming. I’m just exploring my horizons a bit and that being said, i am writing and accepting requests for peter parker and ellie williams. so please don't hesitate to msg me. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Being born in an apocalyptic world full of devastation and death only promised one thing: loss. So, finding people, survivors to call your family was not something to take for granted.

Ellie was your best friend in the entire world (or whatever was left of it). You didn’t really know what friendship looked like before the world turned on itself, but you could imagine it looked something like your friendship with the girl.

You don’t even remember how the two of you started talking when you first arrived in Jackson. The both of you were shy and awkward and didn’t really go out of your way to make conversations with people, so it was baffling enough you had somehow managed to forge a friendship that didn’t only consist of stutters and awkward waves.

 Everybody around you knew you were completely infatuated with each other, but they also knew it was a little more than just two best friends. Whenever you felt the tingles in your arm when hers brushed with yours, or the way your stomach flipped when she walked into a room, you told yourself it was because you idolised her. Because she was Ellie. How could you not? Despite this, you knew deep-down your feelings for the girl weren’t only friendly.

And there she was, laying right next to you in your bed, reading a comic she found while out on patrol in the voices she thought the characters had. Of course, she just ended up sounding like an absolute dork, but it was one of the things you loved about her. You were rolled on your side and facing her, while she was flat on her back, comic caressed between her long fingers.

“Wait, wait, wait. This one here,” she pauses to take a deep breath, switching herself into character but not being able to push past all the giggles escaping her mouth. You can’t help but laugh into her shoulder as well. Her happiness was contagious.

“Spinner-moth! I have come to avenge- “ she laughs through the most ridiculous voice, and you instantly explode with laughter, slapping the comic book out of her hands while you both shake until you have tears coming down your faces. You can’t help but watch her. Jaw tilted up to the ceiling, mouth open with laughter, nose scrunched and eyes clenched shut as tears escaped them. 

For everybody else, it was rare to see moments like these; where Ellie was exclusively herself, giggling so hard her cheeks started hurting. But for you, you were lucky enough to see it fairly often. Ellie really did feel like she could be her weird, talkative, crazy self around you that she had suppressed around everyone else. This kind of comfort was a little frightening for her, she just had to hope and pray she didn’t come to regret it. 

“You are such an idiot!” You swipe at the tears on your face and the two of you slowly calm down, the remainder of one last giggle lingering in the air before it's silent again.

There were many moments like these throughout your bond. Too many to count. You did remember the first time you ever saw the girl laugh. You’d just fallen off your horse after trying to mount it, landing straight in a puddle of mud. You almost hated her for laughing at you, but a few minutes later you joined her, and then she taught you how to properly get on a horse.

“Damn, my ribs are fucking aching.” Ellie snickers, rubbing at the bones of her ribs, lifting her shirt ever-so-slightly to expose her stomach beneath it. You fight to keep your eyes on her face, but that doesn’t last long before she disappears under the sheets. With a fond smile, you join her, both of you then lying on your side to look at each other.

You let your eyes flicker across her face. From the green eyes staring right back at you, to the auburn hair that was splayed across her face. You wanted to lay next to her forever and trace the freckles on her face. Your eyes fall to her lips that were lifted in a shit-eating grin.

“You good?” She asks you in a teasing tone, eyebrows scrunched together and raised.

Under the sheets, it really did feel like a riff to another world. Like the thin piece of fabric that was enfolding the two of your bodies somehow dragged you away from reality and humanity. It was somewhere you could be vulnerable and honest without facing the repercussions later. At least, that’s how it felt. And maybe that’s why you decided to blurt the first thing that came to your mind.

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” You reach out to brush some of her hair behind her ear, skimming the soft skin of her cheeks gently. Pretty was putting it lightly. Right then, under the blankets with only the dim lamp on in the otherwise dark night, beaming in just enough to see her face, she was perfect.

You can’t help but smirk cheekily when Ellie’s cheeks turn a shade of pink, and once she understands your expression, she grabs the collar of her shirt and lifts it up to cover her face, exposing the skin just above the belt of her jeans.

“You’re an asshole!” She scolds, but you can practically hear her smile.

“Hey! I’m serious.” You laugh, grabbing her wrists and pulling them away from her face until you can see her again. “You’re hot. And you know it too.”

Ellie snorts. “Oh, me? Yeah. I am so hot. I have a line at my door of people just trying to catch a glimpse of me.” You could tell Ellie wanted to divert the conversation. She didn’t like talking about herself much, or when the attention was on her, or compliments, or anything of the sorts.

“Okay, okay. I’ll drop it. But, just to clarify, I really do think you’re beautiful.” You bite your lip, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you at the girl’s pink cheeks and shy smile. It was like you were looking at her with newfound vision.

“Well, so are you.” Ellie makes an awkward face and does her best to avoid your eyes while she reaches out to you, fingers dancing delicately across the faded stretch marks below your hip that were exposed when your shorts had ridden up.

You watch her expression soften, eyes intently focused on the pattern her fingers were drawing against your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask her, and your heart swells at the immediate smile that lights up her face. You resist the urge to brush your fingers against her cheek again. Instead, you rub your thumb over the scar on Ellie’s outstretched arm that was barely covered by her tattoo.

“You know,” she starts, a breathy laugh leaving her lips as she shakes her head at herself. “Joel told me a couple of days ago that he thinks you like me. Like, like me, like me,” Ellie only pauses for a moment, but in that moment, you feel your heart drop so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t shoot out and hit the wall behind you. “And I said, ‘well that’s not possible, Y/N doesn’t even like girls, so-“

“First of all, where is Joel? I’d like to personally deliver, this-” you stick your middle finger up at Ellie, “- to him,” there’s a playful grin on your face to compliment the amused one on hers. “And, second of all, who said I don’t like girls?” You raise an eyebrow at her, not missing the way her eyes light up in the slightest. She was sure you could hear her heart thumping in her chest.  

Ellie splutters and trips over her words. “I didn’t- well, I just thought-“ she cuts herself short, lips falling in a straight line and making a face that says ‘shit, you got me.’

“Okay, that’s my bad. I shouldn’t have assumed,” a breathy huff escapes her lips and she covers her face with both of her hands, groaning into them.

You giggle at her reaction, still feeling the slightest bit giddy as well. Jesus, was your crush that obvious to everyone around you, but you?

“And thirdly, what if I do have a crush on you?” Your voice is a little higher than usual, probably because your hands were beginning to sweat and your throat was tightening up, the telltale signs you were nervous as fuck. You try to keep a neutral expression.

Ellie moves her hands away from her face, eyes flickering around your own, searching for a sign, any sign to tell her if you were joking. A few moments go by and she shakes her head, plastering a smile on her face with a roll of her eyes. “You don’t.”

“What if I do?” There’s no hesitation.

Her face falls back to a curious expression. This was everything she’d been waiting to hear.

This kind of comfort was a little frightening for her, she just had to hope and pray she didn’t come to regret it. 

Her walls shoot up. Her cheeks turn pink. Her heart is pounding anxiously in her chest, looking for a way out. It also wants to shield itself from you. You, who could break it in seconds with two words; ‘I don’t.’

She bites her lip, a flash of a hurt expression lasting for a split second, before she’s throwing the sheets off her and climbing out of your bed. Your bed, where you comforted her whenever she fought with Joel, when she broke up with Cat, when she had a rough day patrolling. Where you kissed her forehead and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. The bed she slept in more nights than her own.

Maybe you were telling the truth. Maybe one day she’d believe you. But from the moment she met you, she spent everyday convincing herself she could never be with you, that she didn’t deserve you. She would only be your best friend, nothing more. It was too late.

“Ellie, what’s wrong?” You call out, jumping out of your bed after her and following her into the living room. Her hand was on the door-knob, ready to leave, but you grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Look at me.”

She freezes, lip between her teeth, eyebrows furrowed as she tries to compose herself enough to face you. What feels like hours later, she turns around, eyes immediately meeting with yours, and your heart aches at the tormented expression on her face.

“Ellie?” You had no idea what went so wrong, so quickly. You don’t release her wrist, scared that she would leave the second you did, but you move your other hand to her cheek, only for her to turn her face away. Your heart drops, you feel the tears spring to your eyes as she stares back at you like you’re not really there. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“You’re lying. I get it’s a joke, and it’s funny, but at what cost? My feelings?” She raises an eyebrow at you, she hoped you couldn’t see how hard it was to keep a straight face.

You just shake your head, mouth open in shock as you stare straight back at her. “Ellie, what if I do?” You push, eyes unwavering to show how serious you were.

“What are you doing, Y/N? Seriously.”

“I want you to tell me, what if I do? What if I do, and I’m scared to tell you, because I know you’ll freak out? Like you are right now.” You release your hold on her wrist, swatting frustratedly at the single tear that falls from your eye. “What if I do, but I’m scared you won’t want me back?” Your voice cracks as it falls just above a whisper and you turn away from her, holding your hands over your eyes and willing yourself to keep it together. 

Ellie takes a deep breath in, feeling a little less vulnerable when you’re turned away from her. She wrings the ring and pinkie finger on her left hand, staring down at them as she fumbles over the words to say. She hated seeing you cry. She could count only on one hand how many times she’d been the cause of your tears.

“You know what my biggest fear is?” She looks back up and at your back, seeing your shoulders visibly stiffen at her words.

“Spiders.” You sniffle after a few moments, not daring to turn around.

Ellie looks down again, a small smile on her face at the fact you remembered. “That’s kind of my, bullshit-superficial answer I give people,” she fidgets with her hands again, tongue toying with the inside of her cheek as she ponders whether or not to tell you. “My biggest fear is… Losing people - you know, ending up alone and stuff.” She wipes her hand across her nose, not looking up as she sees you turn around out of her peripheral vision. It was easier to talk to you when it seemed like you weren’t there.

“So, when I realised I liked you, I convinced myself that nothing could happen between us, that you’d never like me back, because liking you and thinking you didn’t feel the same seemed a lot better than liking you and trying to, you know, be more than friends, and then losing you because of it.” She admits, only looking up when your feet move towards her, just in time for your hands to cup her cheeks and pull her into a kiss.

Ellie’s eyes are open in shock, but once she recovers, she’s kissing you just as hard, just as passionately with a level of delicacy at the same time. She kisses you like she’d been dreaming of this moment since forever. She’d never tell you that she had.

Her hands grab onto your wrists, then they’re on your cheeks, then they’re resting on your sides, right where your ribs are. She doesn’t know where to hold you, she can’t get enough. 

Your tongues lock in something of a frenzy. Lines are blurred, friendships are ruined, but something else, something better is sizzling in its place. Something Ellie is already terrified to lose.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Ellie slightly pulls away, breath tickling your lips and words falling out in pants. Eyes glued shut, forehead tilted down to yours, she doesn’t see the look of pure love in your eyes as you stare up at her.

“Then don’t.” You whisper, stroking your thumbs over the freckles on her face.

Minutes pass like this. Your hands on her cheeks, hers on your side, foreheads touching and eyes closed. 

“Everything has changed.” Ellie mumbles after some time, her voice hoarse and crackly. 

“Change isn’t always bad, El.” 

She opens her eyes at this, just as you do, and she smiles.

A small, simple smile that told you she trusts you. That she’d try with you.

You bite your lip, trying to stop your own smile from being so gigantic that you look like an idiot.

“You know, I’m still going after Joel.” You remind her, butterflies swarming in your stomach when her eyes meet with yours, a cheeky glint in them.

“Be my guest.” 

Ellie was right, everything did change in that moment. Your safe, happy and healthy friendship morphed into something a little more dangerous. You both knew it was something you had to work hard at. Being in a relationship was hard enough, throwing an apocalypse in to the mix added a certain feeling of doom to it. 

Between the two of you, there was a silent agreement. You’d have her and she’d have you. No matter what. Two best friends who loved each other, kissed each other, told each other things only lovers do. 

She’d give her life for you, you’d do the same for her.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Pain in My Heart // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Could I please request a Bridgerton imagine where Eloise or Daphne are trying to matchmake Reader with one of their brothers (you can pick which one) but Reader actually hits it off with another brother who's in love at first sight (again, your choice!!). - @libraryoffandomsuniverse

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this has taken!! I hope I have done your request justice. I had a lot of fun writing this, I’m pretty proud of what I’ve come up so I hope you like!! Thank you for requesting! Title: Pain in My Heart - Otis Redding

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Romantic)

Warnings: pining, mutual pining, awful flirting (I can't write it for the life in me), unrequited love (?), a pride and prejudice moment, love confessions, fluff, very very light angst.

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a lot that Daphne and Eloise Bridgerton had in common. It was thought by their mother that due to their closeness in age, they would get along swimmingly. However, by the time that Eloise could speak for herself, it became increasingly clear that there were to be no two people different than that of Eloise and Daphne.

However, whilst the two did not share the same tastes in music or literature, they were united in the hope that they would see their elder brothers happily in love.

It is on a Wednesday in the middle of February when Daphne decides that it is time for her eldest brother, Anthony, to find a wife.

Her decision is made when Anthony stalks into the family drawing room. The only sign of his anger being the blazing of his eyes. Dramatically, he throws himself onto the closest couch, his legs stretching across the pale blue fabric as he laments the meddling of mothers.

Daphne barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. She could tell that Eloise was having a hard time not telling her brother how easy he had it in comparison to rights of women and marriage.

Thankfully, however, Anthony is saved from such a lecture by the announcement of a beloved friend. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had known the Bridgerton family for as long as she had been alive. The same age as Daphne, the two had fallen into an easy friendship that grew more cherished the more time passed.

Upon her announcement, Anthony sits up with keen interest. An action not missed by both Daphne and Eloise – they share a look, one only understood by sisters with masses of brothers.

“Dear (Y/N),” Daphne greets, standing from her chair to greet her lifelong friend, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been very well though it has only been a couple of days since you saw me last.”

Daphne laughs; a light and airy sound. “I can still miss you in that time. Come, sit by me and we can catch up.”

The two women are soon joined by Eloise who places her book down on the table, spine up so she does not lose her page. From where they sit, neither Anthony nor Benedict can hear what the women seem to be whispering about though it seems to be of a serious issue with grave looks on their faces.

Benedict decides that he doesn’t like the look of frustration on her face; the furrow of her brows. If it wouldn’t raise questions of his sanity, he would press his thumb to the furrow, smoothing out her brow so not a trace of the worry remained.

“(Y/N),” Anthony calls, interrupting the conversation currently taking place between the three women, “Would you be attending Lord and Lady Hopton’s ball later on this week? Lord Hopton has done nothing but discuss the expense being put into the event.”

(Y/N) swallows her small sip of tea, placing the cup and saucer down on the table before answering the eldest Bridgerton. “I do plan on attending,” She smiles, fiddling with her gloved fingers.

A pleased smile breaks out across Anthony’s face as he nods. Turning away from her, Anthony walks back to the pale blue couch that only mere moments ago he had thrown himself across in vexation at his dear mother. Now, he sits down gently, making sure every ounce of his nobility is on show.

Benedict cannot help but roll his eyes at the antics of his elder brother. As if on a covert mission for the crown, Benedict’s gaze slides back to her – runs over her figure, taking in the way her dress sits on her form and the way her smile lights up her whole face. He’s a fool in love, he realises, but he would rather be a fool in love with her than a fool in love with anyone else.

It’s as if he finally understands what the poets write about; how the artists never paint more than their muse. As Benedict peers down at the sketchbook in his hands, he comes to realise that he has been drawing her for months. He has found his muse and it’s close to breaking him when he sees the plotting glance shared between Daphne and Eloise.

(Y/N) sits at the table, utterly unaware of the plan being concocted between his sisters. He has the urge to scream, to yell but he keeps quiet. Benedict becomes the very definition of decorum; smiling politely at her when their eyes meet from across the room. The very moment sends his heart skipping a beat before picking up a rhythm he isn’t certain is compatible with life. He has to stop himself from reaching up to grab his chest to ensure his heart doesn’t beat right out of it.

All too soon the moment is over, and she returns to laughing with his younger sisters, but even she knows that something has changed between them. (Y/N) wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight; the very notion belonging only to fairytales, but she, herself, could not deny the thrill that overtook her body when she met the blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.

-----------

Lord and Lady Hopton owned one of the last remaining Tudor residences in London. Many had fallen during the reformation, but in some strange stroke of luck, the Hopton’s home had remained largely undamaged. From there, it passed down the male line as all properties and titles were wont to do in such a society.

The current Lord and Lady prided themselves on the tracking of their lineage, dedicating themselves to the conservation of their home. It was rare for them to throw a ball such as this one, but with the favourable weather, Lady Hopton was able to convince her husband it would be well enough for the courtyard to be used to entertain their nearest and dearest.

There was no set theme; an idea many were grateful for. As much as (Y/N) loved the dress up, the competitive nature between eligible ladies wasn’t something she was in the mood for.

The atmosphere is much more relaxed as (Y/N) takes a turn about the room, smiling politely at the women she has grown up with in London society. They would be civil towards each other, but there was no real friendships forged. (Y/N) was quite content with the Bridgerton brood.

Though they had arrived together, (Y/N) found herself wandering from the comforting presence of the family. She could feel Anthony’s eyes on her, and she thinks of Daphne’s suggestion from the other day; the eldest Bridgerton girl had all but suggested that (Y/N) marry Anthony.

Whilst the suggestion was flattering, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the moment she shared with Benedict. She thinks of the moment often; remembers the way his stare felt, as if he was staring into her very soul and he liked what he found. She thinks of the way her body responded; the shiver sent through her and how she realised that she liked the way he looked at her. As if she hung the moon and stars in the sky for him, and him alone.

(Y/N) loses herself in the crowd. She wanders and wanders, watching new love form and old love strengthen as she catches sight of couples beginning their night. (Y/N) continues her ruminating until she bumps into something hard. Another body.

(Y/N) cringes when she finds herself face to face with the chest of Benedict Bridgerton. “Benedict!” She gasps, “I’m sorry.”

He steadies her with a gentle hand to her elbow. “You have nothing to apologise for. You looked to be deep in thought, I’m only sorry for interrupting you.”

(Y/N) feels her skin begin to flush. I was thinking of you, she wants to cry at the man, but she only just manages to refrain herself.

Benedict laughs before he can stop himself. “If you’re reacting like that, I have to know what you were thinking of.”

“Nothing for nosies,” She responds, a coy smile crossing her painted lips.

Benedict gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, (Y/N).”

“I’m sure you’ll recover,” (Y/N) laughs, patting Benedict’s arm in mock pity.

“I don’t know,” Benedict expresses, his eyes running over her face and outfit. “I think I’m going to need someone to nurse me back to health.”

(Y/N) feels her skin once again begin to heat at the insinuation in his words. She had encountered banter before with the Bridgerton brothers, but she had never encountered such overt flirting. Benedict’s eyes glittered with mirth; his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes – this was him. This was Benedict in his element; he was an artist, a gentleman, and a man that could render her speechless with a simple line of speech.

She finds it hard to respond for a moment; finds it hard to string two thoughts together in his intoxicating presence. She flounders for a second, watching Benedict continue to smile widely as if he had nothing better to do than waste time with her.

Eventually, she collects herself enough. She peers up at the man from under her lashes, fluttering them to the best of her ability as she whispers, “Such requests may make the recovery period a lot longer and a lot harder.”

Leaving the man speechless, (Y/N) pats his arm once more before taking her leave. Feeling hot and bothered by her encounter with Benedict, (Y/N) ambles over to drinks table. Daphne and Eloise stand there nursing their own drinks; they smile widely at their friend as she approaches the table.

“Have you given thought to what I suggested the other day?” Daphne asks; watching her best friend over the rim of her lemonade glass.

“Courting Anthony?” (Y/N) clarifies, reaching for her glass of the tepid drink. She frowns absentmindedly; it was one of the main issues with balls, they never could keep the drinks cold enough to be refreshing throughout the night. They almost always turned sour.

“The very suggestion,” (Y/N)’s dearest friend states with a smile.

“It wouldn’t work,” (Y/N) protests, urging her friends to see the truth. “We aren’t suited for each other.”

“Anthony disagrees,” Daphne chimes, looking and feeling all to superior in the conversation. “He confided to me only yesterday that he wants to court you.”

The ground is close to swallowing her whole; the walls becoming far too close for her liking. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. “That wouldn’t be fair to him,” She croaks, feeling all too close to tears.

“Why not?” Daphne demands, making her vexation known by placing her hands on her hips.

“Daphne,” Eloise interrupts, glancing warily between the two women. “(Y/N) isn’t in love with Anthony. She’s in love with someone else.”

The fight leaves her beloved friend in an instant; she brings a hand to her mouth to cover the shock of Eloise’s words. “I didn’t know,” She whispers, “I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” (Y/N) appeases, “I’m rather new to this.”

“Do we know who it is?” Daphne asks, unable to keep the excitement off her face as she thinks of the handful of men worthy enough to love her dear friend.

(Y/N) sighs, deciding whether to come clean and tell her longest friend that she has found herself hopelessly in love with her brother. She hadn’t even expected it. “It’s Benedict,” She eventually confesses, feeling pressured by the investigative gaze of Daphne Bridgerton.

“Benedict?” Daphne asks, confused, “As in my other brother?”

“The very same,” (Y/N) comments lightly… too lightly as if ready to be on the defence for her feelings for Benedict.

Daphne blinks once, twice before her face breaks with the most beautiful smile. “Oh (Y/N)!” She cries, “This is wonderful!”

“He might not love me back,” (Y/N) whispers, doing her best to keep a light spin on the situation but the idea that Benedict may not return her feelings hurts far more than it should.

“And Anthony still wants to court you,” Eloise reminds her, her voice close to pity.

“Speaking of the devil,” Daphne murmurs with a smile on her face, “Anthony is heading this way.”

“He is?” (Y/N) asks, pivoting on the spot to the find the eldest Bridgerton making his way through the crowd. He smiles at his sisters, briefly checking their glasses to ensure they were sticking strictly to the lemonade offered. When he is suited with what he finds, he turns to (Y/N) and holds out his hand. “Would you care to dance?” He asks her with a confident smile.

She nods her consent, taking his offered hand and allowing herself to be led to the floor. Anthony leads her expertly across the floor; lessons as a child and years in the London society forging him to be an impressive dancer. He makes her laugh as they continue dance, and whilst (Y/N) has a good time with the eldest Bridgerton, she cannot see herself falling for the man like she can see her entire future with Benedict.

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

The ball had wound down naturally; families and lovers beginning to make their way home through the early morning London streets. (Y/N) travels with the Bridgertons, having arrived with them in the first place. Daphne focuses on the streets of London, doing her best not to fall asleep before getting home to her bed.

“How are you getting home?” Daphne asks, not removing her gaze from the darkened streets of the capital city.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to have to wait for another carriage,” (Y/N) complains, holding a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn that had slipped out. The tiredness was clinging to her bones now; she wanted nothing more to crawl into her own bed, sink into the pillows and fall into a dreamworld where Benedict climbs into the other side of the bed.

“Stay with us,” Eloise invites, meeting Anthony’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t be an imposition?” (Y/N) asks smally; the last thing she wanted was to be burden on her friends.

“You never could be,” Anthony smiles, “You’re always welcome to stay the night.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” She whispers, reaching for his hand in the dark and squeezing.

Silence falls for the rest of the ride; the weariness of each of them punctuating the air, creating a warmer atmosphere that leaves (Y/N) blinking away sleep. Eloise does her best to remain awake, but her head soon winds up on Anthony’s shoulder to which the man looks the surprised. He recovers quickly, adjusting his younger sister to make her more comfortable.

The Bridgerton siblings and (Y/N) all sigh in blessed relief when the carriage rolls to a stop outside Bridgerton House. The door opening lets in a cold blast of air, making her shiver as she reaches for the handle to help herself down.

“Here,” Benedict’s voice sounds in the dark light of night, “Let me help you.”

His hand reaches for hers; it clasps hers gently as he helps her down from the carriage. All too soon, his hand falls from hers and (Y/N) is left feeling bereft from the absence of his touch. “Thank you,” She whispers, taking a risk and glancing up at the blue eyes already fixed steadily on her.

“You’re welcome,” He murmurs. Benedict glances back to the carriage to find the rest of his family descending on them. “Goodnight,” He whispers, ducking his head in a bow and leaving her on the steps of Bridgerton House.

(Y/N) watches the man depart in somewhat of a daze. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel his hand in hers. She could feel every fingerprint, every crease, every line in his palm. She could feel it all; she wanted to feel more. She wanted everything with that man; would happily offer up her everything for a single glimpse at what it could be like to wake up in his arms and be happy.

Sighing heavily, she touches a hand to her forehead, pausing in the grand entryway of the Bridgerton family home. She felt so keenly for the man that she knew she would suffer the worst fate to man should he not return her feelings: heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” Anthony calls from the door, his arm around Eloise’s waist. “Would you meet me in my study? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” She allows, smiling at the sight before her. Anthony whispers something to his sister to which Eloise offers her goodnights and begins to climb the stairs to her room, Anthony following behind her with a worried look on his face that only a beloved brother could master.

Anthony’s study smelled of wood polish; the mahogany desk sitting by the windows being the main feature of the room. It’s dark wood providing the much of the fragrance in the room; it’s a comforting scent. (Y/N) smiles when she realises that it’s comforting as it reminds her of the Viscount; the scent of his spicy cologne intermingled with the wood, becoming one and the same.

“Thank you for waiting,” Anthony whispers, closing the door behind him, “I know how tired you are, but I really wanted to speak to you.”

“Whatever’s the matter?”

Suddenly, Anthony no longer holds the prowess of a Viscount but rather, looks like the eighteen year old boy handed a peerage all too soon. He runs a hand through his hair out of nerves, pacing back and forth behind his desk. Eventually, he comes to a slow stop, resting his hands on the back of his father’s ageing chair. “Have you given any thought to your future?”

“It’s been on my mind more and more these days,” She answers honestly. It’s all she has thought of since her eyes met Benedict’s across the room and she got a glimpse into what her mornings, afternoons, evenings with the man could be like.

“I think we could be good together,” Anthony argues, offering up a slice of his heart for the taking, “I think we work well together.”

“Anthony, may I be honest with you for a moment?”

“I’d hope for nothing more.”

She takes a deep breath; steeling her nerves before smiling at the Viscount. “With all due respect, I don’t think you do love me.”

Anthony moves to interrupt her; a flash of anger and upset in his eyes. He quietens when she holds up a single hand; begging him to let her continue. “Anthony, I think you were looking for someone to stop your mother from pestering you about marriage. I just happened to walk into the room at the right moment.”

Anthony frowns; he takes in (Y/N)’s words, letting them roll around his mind as he thinks back to the first day when he realised he could truly love the woman sitting in front of him. Violet Bridgerton had been on him from the moment he walked through the front door; producing yet another list of eligible women in London that he could find a potential match in. He had taken the list from his beloved mother and in the privacy of his study, he had ripped the list to tiny pieces making sure that none of the names were legible.

On some level, he has always loved her. (Y/N) had been in his life from the very day she was born; mother being friends, Violet able to offer (Y/N)’s advice as she was her firstborn. At this point, Violet was a seasoned expert on motherhood. Anthony had always known of the girl that was best friends with Daphne; he had watched her grow up. On some level, he has always had some feeling for her.

He knows know, though, that those feelings could never broach romance. There was too deep an affection between them.

“You’re right,” Anthony states, “It wouldn’t be a love match.”

“It wouldn’t,” She affirms, taking a seat in front of the large, wooden desk. Silhouettes of his parents and siblings decorate the space; it brings a fond smile to her face. Anthony presented a strong front, but in private, he was as much the adoring son and brother.

“But you think you have found your love match,” Anthony declares, wanting to clear the air.

“I’m not sure,” She laughs mirthlessly. “I have no clue as to whether he feels the same.”

“He’d be an idiot, not to,” Anthony compliments, “Do I know the lucky man?”

(Y/N) looks sheepish as she stares at the Viscount. She had already confessed to Daphne and Eloise – what harm could one more person do?

“It’s Benedict.”

“You love him,” Anthony whispers; not an accusation, not an ounce of anger in his voice. A simple fact stated for the room.

(Y/N) nods. “I do. I love him with all that I am and all that I know I could be.”

A sad, bittersweet smile crosses Anthony’s face; he won’t speak of how the words hurt him. He reaches for her hand and clasps it tightly between both of his.

“Go to him,” He whispers, “You have my blessing.”

(Y/N) stands. Her intention is to leave the room and find the Bridgerton who had so readily taken root within her heart, but first she crosses to where Anthony stands behind his desk. He watches her with curious eyes as the silk of her glove brushes his cheek; his eye flutter closed when he feels the featherlight press of her lips and the whisper of her gratitude.

Anthony keeps his eyes closed when she pulls away from him; he keeps them closed until he hears the tell-tale click of the door. It is only then that Anthony allows himself to open his eyes and peer into the heartbreak now cracking open his chest. Not for the love he though he felt, but for the utter want racing through his body. He wants a love like that; he was going to find a love like that.

They would be happy together; he thinks to himself as he breathes in the floral scent of her perfume. They would be happy together, perfectly suited to the point that Anthony craves such intimacy. One day; he promises, one day he would hold such a treasure within his hands.

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

Bridgerton House remained warm and inviting even after the family had long retired for bed. The sconces lining the walls still lit; their warm light easy on anyone’s eyes should they need to traverse the hallways for whatever reason.

The path to Benedict’s room isn’t one she has taken often. Thinking on it, (Y/N) realises that save for being shown the door on her first ever visit to the London home, she has not stepped foot close to the room since. Until tonight, that is.

Her skirts swish delicately underfoot as (Y/N) makes her way to his room. She doesn’t dare utter a single breath for the fear of being caught; all around her slumber her closest friends. If she were caught by a member of staff, her reputation balanced on being ruined.

Her hand trembles as she clenches it into a fist, raises it to the plain white door and knocks twice. She waits on the threshold, twisting her fingers into her skirts – a nervous habit she’s had since she was a child. She was thankful that she no longer bit her nails down to the bed.  

“Come in,” calls his quiet voice and her nerves only heighten. Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door that could reveal her future.

“(Y/N),” Benedict gasps, the deep v of his shirt falling open, revealing far more of his bare chest than (Y/N) had expected to see tonight.

“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispers, hovering between the doorway and his room. She does her best to not stare at the defined muscles on display but loses the battle. Her eyes run over the parts of his muscular torso and the strong forearms shown with the sleeves of white shirt rolled up. She didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to the forearms of a person, but here was Benedict proving her wrong.

“What if you get caught?” He whisper-asks, worry lacing his tone as he glances at something behind her. She turns on instinct only to find an empty hallway and three lit sconces.

“Anthony knows where I am,” She retorts, stepping further into Benedict’s room.

“Anthony?”

“He gave me his blessing.”

“To enter my room… unattended… late at night?”

“Essentially, yes,” She smiles, thinking back to her conversation with the Viscount.

“Why were you talking to Anthony?” Benedict asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t like the simmering jealousy he feels that the picture of (Y/N) alone with Anthony in his study. He clears his throat to chase away the hollow ache of envy; he doesn’t want to picture the conversation. He doesn’t think he could handle it.

“He asked me to court him.”

“Oh,” Benedict responds, feeling his heart begin to crack in his chest. “What did you say?”

“I told him I couldn’t. We wouldn’t suit each other and one other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“I don’t love him. I love someone else.”

“You do? Do I know them?”

(Y/N) laughs, stretching her arms out as she gestures to Benedict’s bedroom. “I’m stood in your room in the middle of the night, Benedict, with full knowledge that if I were to be caught by any of the staff, I would be ruined. What does that tell you?”

Benedict frowns, refusing to let himself fall into the hope growing in his chest. He feels like Icarus; too close to the sun, too close to thing he wants most in this world.

“Stop this pain in my heart,” She commands weakly. “Stop this pain and tell me if you feel the same. If you don’t, I understand but I’d ask you not to tell anyone of this midnight visit.”

His mouth runs dry, and he finds it hard to answer. He’s falling, falling, falling for the woman stood across from him and he cannot find the words to accurately describe the depth of his feelings for her. That day in the drawing room – he’s known her for years, always been aware of her, but that day, it was as if he was finally seeing her for the pure beauty that she inhabits. She could rival Aphrodite herself.

Upset shutters across (Y/N)’s face as she nods twice, trying her best to keep the burn of tears at bay. “It’s okay, Benedict,” She whispers, turning for the door, “Thank you for listening.”

At the last moment, Benedict reaches out and snatches her wrist. “Don’t go,” He pleads, “Don’t leave me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you left me.”

“I don’t understand,” She whispers; confusion lacing her voice. Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at the man before her, “You didn’t say anything. You stayed silent; I took that as my cue to leave.”

Benedict shakes his head. “Don’t go,” He whispers, bringing a hand up to card through the loose strands of hair framing her face. He almost preens as she leans into his touch. “I feel the same, I love you just the same,” Benedict confesses; feeling the weight leave his chest.

“You do?” She asks; her voice small but hopeful.

“I do,” Benedict smiles, brushing her cheek with his finger, “I think I always have, but I didn’t realise until recently.”

(Y/N) sniffles as tears threaten to make an appearance. She laughs wetly, unable to stop the giggle from leaving her mouth as Benedict wipes away the tears. “I hope those are happy tears,” He murmurs wryly.

“They are,” She answers, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level. “They definitely are.”

“Good,” He answers.

Their faces are so close now it would only take a fraction of a movement to press their lips together; to seal the promise of their union. “Kiss me, Benedict,” She whispers; need lacing her voice as she stares into his famously blue eyes.

Benedict doesn’t need to be told twice; it isn’t often he gets to kiss a goddess.

********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @magicalxdaydream​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​ 

Taglist is open! Drop me an ask to be added! :)

[1kook]

commercial break: twelve

this is part of my netflix & chill series a prelude to part 10 <3

SUMMARY Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee.  WARNING none !! we r safe MISC jk and doyeon mortal enemies, nearly everyone is mentioned, thank u namjoon, jk loves oc, the end <3 jimin makes his first appearance O_O WC 1.4k

NOTES we just having fun with it!!! jk’s friendship with everyone else <3

Doyeon says you have fat fingers, and Jungkook takes great offense at that. “Who cares about the size— __ has pretty hands, idiot,” he mutters, and almost wants to feel bad about being so childish in the middle of this jewelry store. But Kim Doyeon is a pest— a fly who just won’t stop buzzing by his ear with each ring they look at, and she has the audacity to look disgusted with him now. Jungkook very much regrets inviting her along. She exudes very similar energy to the popular girls he used to go to high school, the ones that would only talk to him because he was friends with Namjoon and wanted Jungkook to help them into his pants. Lo and behold, Kim Doyeon is very acquainted with whatever’s inside Namjoon’s pants. She hits the mark perfectly. 

“Oh, definitely get her a rock. Like, one of those obnoxiously bing and shiny rings, maybe?” And she never stops talking. 

Jungkook hasn’t had to spend this much time with her in months, the last time being Namjoon’s birthday when you had tasked the two of them to go pick up the cake together. Not only was Doyeon adamant on passenger-seat driving — “Turn here,” she says a moment too late, “no wait, here — but she had been an absolute heathen outside in the bakery parking lot. 

(“Okay, now take a picture of me by this wall,” she says, artfully holding up the box of cake in two hands, dark hair flipped over her shoulder. Jungkook doesn’t know how to tell her that there is no significant difference between this brick wall and the brick wall they just took a picture by two minutes before.)

Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee. It would be him and Namjoon, and maybe Namjoon’s blunt roommate Jimin if he was feeling down for it, but that was pretty much it. Even Taehyung, a very close and dearly cherished friend, had not made the cut. He was too lazy, didn’t offer much concrete advice other than the occasional, “that one looks cool” comment. 

The great thing about Namjoon is that he’s highly educated on just about every aspect of life; he knows the best hairstylists — “You can always ask Hobi,” Namjoon offers, “he’s married.” — and the best lawyers — “Oh, and Yoongi can help with your prenup.” — for no reason other than the fact he is Namjoon. 

The bad thing about Namjoon is that he’s dead set on including Doyeon. “Doyeon is ___’s best friend,” he says calmly one night after dinner. You’re at your friend’s house this weekend, something about a midnight revenge plot against a shitty ex-boyfriend. He isn’t too clear on the details. “You have to let her in on it.” It’s been decades since Jungkook last stomped his foot in annoyance, but the urge wells up strongly in him now. 

Jimin is on the couch. “Oooh, you don’t like her?” he asks, flipping his platinum hair away from his eyes. Jungkook doesn’t answer, only because it would be rude to confirm it in front of Namjoon. Jimin presses on. “Is she, like, an evil best friend?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says at the same time Namjoon says, “no.” Jimin’s got this highly intrigued smirk on his face, and Jungkook hates how similar it is to your own mischievous grins. He’s glad you haven’t met Jimin, mostly because he knows you have your mean moments and meeting Park Jimin would only exacerbate them. Namjoon frowns anyway. 

Jimin says, “oh, you guys should duel. Like, whoever knows __ the best gets to keep her.” 

Namjoon jumps to stop that thought. “No— they’re not gonna duel, Jimin. ___ isn’t an object to win,” he scolds, and Jungkook nods along agreeingly, pretends he hadn’t seriously considered Jimin’s idea for a solid ten seconds. 

Long story short, Doyeon has tagged along to this jeweler and the past two jewelers to make sure Jungkook doesn’t give you “an ugly ring,” as she claims. 

“Wait, what if you get her this one,” she says, on the other side of the store. Jungkook sighs, but hurries over anyway. Hey, he’s here to see some rings, okay? 

Doyeon is looking at the most ugly ring Jungkook has ever seen, a mix of a braid and a snake, that is just too… not you. “This is hideous,” he says, disregarding all and any notions of being polite because at this point, she had to be pulling his leg. “___ would hate this.” 

At his side, Doyeon huffs. “Oh, ‘cause you know ___ sooo well, don’t you?” she snarks. 

Jungkook levels her with a glare. “I do, actually,” he says, “that’s literally what made me want to marry her.” And because Kim Doyeon sparks a very immature flame within him, he feels the need to add, “I probably know ___ better than you,” to top it off. 

Doyeon scoffs. “No, you don’t— you will never know her like I do, you overgrown fungus,” she spits. “Me and ___ have exceeded any level of trust you could ever hope to have, a friendship forged on the grounds of love and equal values. A nerd like you can’t even begin to fathom the absolutely crazy shit we’ve shared with each other.” 

If he was eight years younger, Jungkook is certain he would have gone home and cried. Mid-twenties Jungkook, on the other hand, has had one too many rodeos with mean girls — he’s dating a retired high school cheerleader, for goodness sake, an apex predator if he’s ever seen one — and will not stand for it. Besides, Jungkook has received your blessing to check Doyeon into place if ever she crosses the line. 

(“Sometimes you just gotta knock her down, maybe call her a dumbass if necessary,” you had said one night after Doyeon had unceremoniously barged into your apartment to monopolize your evening plans with Jungkook. Now it’s nearing midnight and as much as Jungkook wants to spend time with you, he’s deathly tired. “Just tell her off.” 

Jungkook frowns, snuggles closer until he’s so tightly pressed against your body that he can’t tell whose heartbeat is whose. He likes it like that.

There’s just something about your annoying best friend that activates this feeling in Jungkook’s chest. If anything, Jungkook imagines it is similar to that of having a bratty little sister. But Doyeon as his sister? He rolls his eyes so far back he swears he sees his own brain. 

It’s childish and petty and unlike Jungkook — or at least, unlike the Jungkook he knows you think he is. Which is flattering, to be thought of so highly, but sometimes Jungkook wonders where on earth you got that idea from. Because whenever he’s around you, Jungkook becomes increasingly immature, grows so greedy and needy, desperate for anything you have to give him. 

And because he’s so immature, he settles on tattling to you instead, “she called me a sweaty meat bag,” to which you snort in amusement.) 

For now, he calls on the spirit of the most mature person he knows (Namjoon). Jungkook takes one last look at his millionth silver band of the day before turning to address the Wicked Witch of the West. “I might not know ___ like you do, but that’s fine,” he says calmly. “We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together anyway.” 

In front of him, Doyeon’s eye twitches and Jungkook senses he has won. For now. See, the thing is, Jungkook knows that using Namjoon-level logic against her is foolproof. For one, Namjoon’s logic is always solid. But also, as much as Jungkook despises Kim Doyeon with nearly every fiber in his being… ultimately, they share a common interest: cherishing you. 

Had it not been for your existence in their lives, Jungkook doubts he would have ever spent his Saturday morning at a jeweler with the likes of Kim Doyeon, especially not after she had spent ten minutes in the Starbucks drive-thru ordering the most bizarrely complicated drink. But deep in his heart Jungkook knows that she loves you, though not as much as him, and he respects the fact she is willing to accompany him in the name of buying you a beautiful engagement ring. It’s a friendship solidarity he admires, and for that he stomps down his childish pride to answer in a way that would impress, well, you. 

(Even when you’re not here, Jungkook always wants to impress you.)

At his side, Doyeon huffs. “I should’ve never taken ___ to that party.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr

[amiratalks]

Arguably for the first time in months, Amira laughed. It was a broken, startled sound, her throat and chest so unaccustomed to the notion of laughter, so distanced from any sort of scenario that might require it. And yet, there she was, laughing at something that Joey had said to her. Her cheeks blushed violently as she tried to gather her thoughts, the sound coursing through her light and taken aback. 

“A situationship?” she blundered, averting her gaze to stare down at her feet.  

Never in a million years had she ever expected herself to be in a scenario such as this. She thought of Matty, playful and high spirited as he was. She supposed if anybody was to label hers and Killian’s bizarre friendship as such, it would have been him, but even Matty hadn’t ever dared. She missed him, his presence calming, and guilt washed over her as she recalled every text and call that had gone ignored from the man. She thought he would like Joey, would enjoy her exuberant personality. She hoped, somehow, that they might meet. 

“I’d never really thought about it like that, I suppose,” she admitted, offering the other girl a meek smile. 

It was interesting for Amira to watch the other girl flounder over her words, concern filling her speech as she fretted over offending her. Amira’s feelings for Killian had never tinted her view, not in the way most people would expect. Her judgement could be clouded from time to time, but she was aware that others didn’t see the side of him that she did. She counted herself lucky to have such insight into the workings of his mind, a rare thing for him to ever let anybody in. His own wife had never had such luck. 

"He is intense, I know. He’s just... guarded.” She paused, hopelessly searching for the right way to describe him. “Killian is... reserved? But at heart he’s kind. He saved my life.” 

She sighed, sniffling as she held out her hand, taking the napkins from the other girl. She hadn’t meant to get emotional, had never even intended for this conversation to happen in the first place. She’d gotten sloppy, forging a routine she had no business in carrying out, her regular trips to see Simon a privilege she couldn’t quite afford. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and offered Joey an appreciative smile. 

“I’m okay, really. I just... it’s family stuff, nothing to do with Killian,” she insisted, wanting to reassure the girl. 

She regretted her words instantly though, her brown furrowing as she stewed over her words of choice. Nobody knew about her family, and there was no reason for that to change now. In that past, she’d shared enough with Killian to paint a pretty picture, but never the full truth. He didn’t know where her family were, nor what had become of them, so she couldn’t let her guard down now. 

“Don’t tell Killian, though. If you see him,” she pressed, her words coming out too fast, too frantic. She winced and took a deep breath to compose herself. “Sorry. He just doesn’t know, and I’d rather he hear it from me?” 

When Amira placed a hand on Joey’s arm, she fought the urge to cover it with her own. That would be weird, wouldn’t it? And kind of intense seeing as the two women didn’t actually know each other all that well. That hadn’t stopped Joey from worrying though.

She knew she was a little bit too nosey for her own good sometimes. She had to constantly be reminded that other people’s business wasn’t her own, but she hated a mystery and just couldn’t leave anything well enough alone. It was probably a good thing that such a trait had been channeled towards exploring all things paranormal. That way, she was less likely to hurt anyone’s feelings. Anyone still living anyway. She still fretted about insulting a ghost or two, even though Micah still seemed to think there was no such thing.

Suddenly, Amira was assuring Joey that Killian was actually her boyfriend. Or something similar that lacked a label.

“So… a situationship? Or something?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Dating terminology never failed to confuse the absolute bejesus out of Joey. She often had Louis on hand to explain to her that talking stages and dating stages did not equate to a relationship and that you could be exclusive with someone but that didn’t make them your boyfriend or girlfriend. Then the word ‘situationship’ had been thrown into the mix and she’d been left baffled. Call her old-fashioned, but she’d been raised to believe that you liked someone and if they liked you back, then you sealed the deal with a kiss and then from then on you were together. Maybe it was her own severe lack of a love life that could be blamed for her ignorance, but she couldn’t help but be relieved that her own single status had saved her from the mental gymnastics of figuring out what she meant to be a person she liked.

Evidently, Killian and Amira seemed to be having this problem as well.

“He talked like he was your boyfriend, so you guys should probably put a label on that. He kept talking about how pretty you were, so he definitely likes you,” Joey reasoned.

With the reassurance that Amira did know Killian and wasn’t scared of him, Joey forced herself to relax. She only paused a little bit when Amira passed her phone back to her before eventually taking it and stuffing it back into her pocket. She gave a little nod, accepting Amira’s words, although she did wrinkle her nose in confusion when the other woman stated that being with Killian was the safest place she could be.

“Really?” she asked in disbelief, before realising how rude that was.

Immediately, her face cleared.

“Sorry. Manners. Just… he’s kind of intense, you know?” she pointed out. Surely Amira must know that Killian had the potential to be kinda scary, boyfriend or not.

Panicking a little aa the emotion welling up in Amira’s eyes turning into physical tears, Joey hastened to comfort the other girl. She reached for the napkins at the little stand full of stirrers and sugar, grabbing a handful of tissues and pressing them gently into Amira’s hands.

“Hey, are you okay?” Joey asked, quietly. “I’ll believe you if you say he’s safe, but that doesn’t mean you have to go back to him if you want to like, take time for yourself or anything.”

[revnah1406]

MASON'S LEGACY

Ch 1: Back to Reality

 Author's Note: Hello! Before reading I would like to warn that English is not my first language and I am still learning to speak and write it. So maybe you will find some mistakes in this fanfic. If you find it, feel free to correct me.

Summary: Call of Duty black ops 4 never existed. After the Cordis Die incident, and the drone attack. It left the two super powers of the world (the United States and China) in decline. Little did they know that bad news doesn't come alone. In the midst of all the chaos that occurred after the death of Menéndez (Cordis Die), a Soviet terrorist group called Perseus appeared or rather rose from the ashes, although they baptized it as The New Perseus. Hell came to the world, more than half of the human population died in those five years, and the few that remained lost control. Governments disappeared or were overthrown, there were very violent revolts. Presidents and politicians were assassinated. The remaining governments vanished. The world became anarchic, demonstrating how cruel humanity can be when there is no longer order or laws. . The main cities of the countries and the first world fell. Everything remained in a post-apocalyptic world. Now David Mason and his daughter Abby Mason have to face a long journey to return to Alaska and start a new life. On this journey, past and present will merge into one.

WARNING: This fic contains SPOILERS from Call of duty Black Ops 1/2 and Cold War. It will also be inspired by other games such as The Division, The Last of Us, Far cry (There will be no spoilers).

I Also Made a drawing of what Abby Mason would look like and a little bit of information about her: here

I hope you enjoy!

________________

Next Chapter ->

Chapter 1: Back to reality

Words: 6683

Woods sighed, looking out the window of his room. His knees ached more than usual. He felt older than ever, although he had to be reasonable. It made sense. At 95 years old, everything seemed unreal. He was reviewing his life in his head, from the time he ran away from his family in Philadelphia, until he entered the residence. His achievements, his regrets... Everything seemed so distant and yet so vivid to him. Who would have thought that a man like him would live to such a long age. For someone who has been playing dice with death all his life.

A knock on the door of his room brought him out of his thoughts.

"Do not enter…." He demanded sullenly.

But the door opened.

He shook his head in annoyance and dragged the wheelchair toward the door.

"I swear to god, I will shove this wheelchair right up your...!"

"Ass..." Someone finished the sentence for him."

Frank looked up and raised his eyes in surprise.

A girl was in front of him, smiling. The girl was about 13 years old, brown hair, and green eyes. She looked a lot like her father, and even more like her grandfather.

"You have to change your threats, old man." She advised while she laughed.

"May I know what you are doing here at this hour?" Woods raised an eyebrow at the girl.

Not that He didn’t like her presence. Quite the contrary. He forged a deep friendship with her, the moment her father let him carry her in his arms. Frank still remembered when that little girl was just a baby. So inocent in the arms of the old veteran. He always said that he hated babies, but his heart melted at the first glance. She was the most delicate little thing he had ever held in his hands and now she was on her way to becoming a whole woman.

The girl shrugged and ran her hand down the back of her neck.

"I was passing by... And I thought I'd go visit old Woods." She blurted out with feigned innocence.

"Abby…" Frank called her name. "You live more than two hours away. What have you done this time?"

"I didn't do anything! It was...!" She didn't finish the sentence.

She sighed in frustration and sat on the edge of the bed.

Woods approached with the wheelchair, until he was in front of her. He put his calloused old hand on top of Abby's knee, patting it a couple of times.

"Come on. Tell me what happened."

The girl looked away, towards the drawings that were hanging on the wall. Some were hers, from when she was little. Others from when her father was little. She then returned her gaze to the veteran.

"My aunt Mary thinks she can come home. And turn everything upside down. Thinking she's in charge of everything now.” Abby began to explain. “Dad just told her to come by to pick up mom's last belongings. And as soon as she sets foot in the house she starts giving me meaningless orders and complaining like a embittered sergeant. No offense, sir. You're cool."

Frank chuckled and listened. He knew that she didn't have a good relationship with the family of her mother's side. And it got worse when she passed away.

"Never in over seven years has she deigned to stop by. Not even when Mom was in the hospital!”

She was starting to get more upset as she counted.

"And now she thinks she can come home and give me lessons? She never cared about us. No one in that family has. And now she's bossy and criticizing Dad for being a 'Bad Dad.' of his absence in the army. And because of that I have become an extremely rebellious and unbearable girl"

Abby shook her head.

"Dad's just doing his job, saving the world or whatever he does. At least he cares about us."

Woods understood the girl's situation. A few months had passed since her mother had died of cancer. Shortly after her father had to leave for work, as she said: To save the world. Abby stayed at the neighbors' house, and she didn't have permission to visit old man Woods. For the entire security issue and Menéndez's intrusion into The Vault. So the little girl had a hard time. She didn't have her loved ones near her and all of her pain and frustration was building up inside her.

Until finally her father returned home. He had managed to arrest  Raúl Menéndez and had left the army. To spend time with his daughter and finally take care of his wife's mourning.

"So…" Frank pointed at her. "You got mad at your aunt. Because she said all those things about you and your father. And your best idea was to run away from home and come here?"

She shrugged.

"The bus ride isn't that expensive and I was starting to miss you." She justified.

The man looked at the girl for a few seconds. And then he let out a laugh.

"My god, Abby Mason."

Woods affectionately ruffled abbys' hair. She smiled. Who would have thought that her dearest friend could turn out to be a tattooed, grumpy, curmudgeonly old war veteran.

"But for now, call your father. We don't want him to worry and give both of us a hard time." Woods ordered. "I'm going to find the nurse. She always hides the fucking cigarettes from me."

Abby obeyed. She told her father that she would spend the afternoon with old Frank, after scolding, she got permission to stay. And so she did. She spent the afternoon with him, and they walked through the gardens of The Vault. As always, Woods telling the war stories and stories of him. They played poker, and as always, Abby complained that the old man always cheated.

It was late, it was getting dark, Abby had to go home. But what they did not expect was to find a man waiting for them in the room. He was old too, wearing a uniform and wearing sunglasses. When he took them off, Abby could see that he was missing an eye.

"Now that’s an entrance…" Woods blurted out, slightly surprised.

The girl looked at both men, not understanding anything. Did they know each other?

"Started Thinking you weren’t gonna make it " Frank kept talking.

He nodded at Abby.

"Go home Kid."

"It’s Okay. She can stay." The unknown man raised a hand.

Abby didn't know what to do. She was a spectator in that room. That man turned his attention back to Woods.

"Mi hermana Josefina." He said as he tossed Frank a heart shaped necklace.

Woods nodded as he grabbed the necklace out of the air.

"Yeah… I’ve been waiting for this."

The old Woods looked at Abby again.

"Go away, this has nothing to do with you." The tone he used this time was more dry and distant.

As if he suddenly didn't know the girl anymore.

"She stays." The other man ordered.

Abby didn't like that. She had a bad feeling.

"Josefina survived the fire..." The one-eyed man kept talking "...For me. I didn't leave her."

There were a few seconds of silence.

"You took her from me."

It was a quiet conversation, considering what it was about.

"And what’d you learn from that?" Woods asked, still knowing the answer.

"What did I learn?" he blurted out with irony.

It all happened so fast, Abby didn't have time to react. The man pulled a gun from his uniform and pointed it at the girl. Frank tried to react in time, reaching out to stop him. But the trigger was faster.

The man shot the girl. On her chest. She fell to the ground, the impact knocked the air out of her. She was bleeding too much. She couldn't stop the bleeding. She was lying on it, her cheek flattened on the cold ground.

"You took everything from me." Menendez turned to the girl.

He crouched down in front of her. Abby was terrified, tears were welling up in her eyes, she couldn't breathe, blood was gushing out of her mouth. The man brushed aside a couple of strands that were getting in the way of the girl's delicate face. She was terrified.

"Abby!" Woods was desperate. "This has nothing to do with her!"

"Frank…" The little girl started crying,  desperately seeking help, begging to Woods to save her. Even if it was impossible.

"And I…" Menéndez continued with his speech. "I will take it from you. You will suffer with me."

Abby realized that the last sentence was for her.

"No, no, no. Please... Woods!" she pleaded.

Menendez turned and pulled out a knife. And in a blink. He stabbed Woods in the throat.

"NO!"

Abby woke up. She sat up so fast that she even felt dizzy. She was covered in a cold sweat, she was soaked in sweat. Desperate tears rolled down her cheeks, her pulse was racing, her hands were extremely trembling and she had trouble breathing.

It had happened again. A nightmare, no, a memory that had haunted her for five years.

Suddenly the door opened. Showing the face of a worried father.

"Abby. Are you okay?"

David hurried over to his daughter's side.

He sat down next to her.

Abby looked at her father. She was still scared, this time the dream was more vivid than the last one.

“Fuck..” She muttered, rubbing her face with both hands

David smiled to calm her, to let her know that everything was fine. She started managing to lower her heart rate and regulate her breathing.

It had been a long time since that dream had visited her at night, she believed that she had finally gotten rid of it. But it wasn't true, it simply waited for her to lower her guard to attack with more intensity.

"Are you feeling better now?" David asked.

Abby nodded.

“yeah.” 

"Same dream?"

She nodded again.

David sighed. It hurt him to see his daughter like this, he felt frustrated for not being able to do anything. He only comforts her until she manages to get out of that hell.

"I thought it wouldn't happen again.” She spoke with her gaze fixed somewhere in the room.

"I know honey. But it's hard to get rid of these things…"

David was hurt by the loss of Woods. He felt guilty about it. He should have killed Menéndez instead of stopping him. And for that mistake, he also almost lost his daughter. The only thing left to him, the only legacy his wife had left him. The last remaining proof of his love for his wife. And he almost lost her because of him. Only she was left. His father Alex, Woods, his mother, his wife. Everything he loved in this world, it had been taken from him. If he lost his daughter as well, he wouldn't be able to recover.

But he had to be strong, for her. They were alone in that cruel world. They had to keep going and survive.

"What time is it?" she asked, raising her eyes.

The older Mason looked at the watch on his wrist.

"06:30." He answered. "The sun isn't up yet. But we have to get going. We're not safe here."

Abby nodded.

"I'll let you get dressed and get your stuff. Then come to have breakfast, okay?" David continued.

She nodded again as her father placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Are you sure you're okay now?" he asked, taking one last look at her face.

"I'm better. Thanks dad."

She raised her corners, leaving a sad smile.

David looked at her for a few seconds, not very convinced, but then he gave up.

"Okay. I'll let you be." He said goodbye.

Mason got up and ruffled the girl's hair. He then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Abby was silent for a few seconds, without moving, looking around the room. It wasn't even hers. That room didn't belong to anyone, not anymore. Things had ceased to belong to people a long time ago. The place was dusty, messy, with some broken windows and broken furniture... That room had seen better days, but those days are gone. Abby didn't care what the place looked like. It was just a shelter for one night. They were just passing by.

She got out of her sleeping bag. And she put her bare feet on the ground. It was cold, her skin felt goosebumps.

"Dad!" She called out to him "Is it really cold outside?"

She raised her voice so he could hear her through the door. She knew that her father had been awake longer, he used to wake up early in the morning before the sun came up. To patrol the area and make sure there was no danger.

"I believe so!” Her father's voice echoed out of the room. “It even snowed!”

"What?" Abby muttered to herself.

Confused, she walked to the window, sealed with cardboard and duct tape. She peeked through a small hole that wasn't covered with cardboard and peered out. It was true. The streets were snowed. Sprinkled in a layer of soft snow, which covered everything.

The little girl inside her was excited. It had snowed! She hadn't seen snow in a long time. She couldn't wait for her boots to touch the snow. She was sure she could get back at him for that time her father put snow inside her jacket. But the more reasonable part of her told her that this was going to complicate the trip. Walking on snow was more exhausting. In addition to a higher energy expenditure due to the cold. This was not good.

Abby sighed knowing there wasn't much she could do. She turned away from the window and started to change her clothes.

She looked around for her backpack. She soon found it lying near where she had slept. She crouched down in front of it and began to search inside.

It was an old one-shoulder backpack, with only one main strap to hang it from her shoulder. It had rips and patches but was a decent size with plenty of pockets and straps to tie various things to the sides. It was useful, considering it was where she kept all of her belongings. They were no longer at home, that house no longer existed, it was destroyed years ago. The life of a nomad demanded light and essential luggage. She was grateful that her father taught her how to fold clothes and put things away like he did in the navy. Taking up as little space as possible.

Abby's eyes traveled to the backpack strap. A knot tightened in her throat when she saw that piece of cloth. Woods' old bandana wrapped around the strap with a knot. The one he had always used in his missions and operations. Woods always said that he couldn't go on a mission without his bandana.

Abby stroked the fabric, it was all she had left of the old veteran. The nightmare replayed in her head.

"How did you deal with your demons, old man?" She whispered into the air.

It was a question for a ghost that now only was resting.

She shook her head and went back to what she should do. She took out of the backpack, the clothes that she had to put on. She dressed quietly, black cargo pants, a basic brown T-shirt, and an old light brown sweatshirt. She made sure to tuck the bottom of the shirt into her pants. Preventing the cold from creeping in. She then sat down on the floor and put on some thick socks and shoes. Combat boots her father got her a couple of years ago. They were sturdy, with thick soles and nearly indestructible laces. It was a good and durable shoe, but that didn't mean calluses and sores would form on Abby's poor feet in the long run.

When she finished dressing she put all of her belongings in her backpack, making sure to fold them correctly so that it didn't take up too much space. When she was done, she took one last look, checking to make sure nothing was left behind. Climbing rope, carabiners, gas mask... Then she walked until she stood in front of a dusty mirror. She reached over to brush the dust off the glass so she could show the reflection of her face.

It was amazing how much she had changed in five years. Physically and psychologically.

So much had happened in that period of time...

Discarding the obvious physical change due to age. Abby's skin was more damaged. She had scars, bruises and marks...Scattered all over her body. Signs of a hard and dangerous life. But the one that stood out the most was a gunshot wound to her chest, near her right shoulder.

Her complexion had changed as well. Her shoulders were broader, as were her arms and legs. She had built muscle over those years. Not because she wanted to. This way of life simply demanded great physical effort from her. And if she wasn't up to the task, it could be fatal.

Her face changed too. Abby’s jaw had widened a little. Her features were no longer so smooth. But she still had the face of an 18-year-old girl. Her green eyes, now wrapped in a slight red tint from the lack of sleep. Her hair was no longer what it used to be. Those long brown locks had been cut off. Her hair was very short. It was shaved on the sides and back of the neck, and cut short on top, the strands sticking out in all directions.

Her father used to cut it with scissors and a blade. She had to admit that over time he had gained practice and was getting better at it. Abby decided to cut it off when she realized that her long hair was impractical. She didn't have time to take care of it and she already lost all her hair ties. She now didn't have to worry about any of that.

With her hands she tried to put some order in her hair. But it seemed that those strands were not willing to cooperate. She gave in with a sigh and let it go. She was ready to go. She believed until she remembered one last thing.

She walked over to the backpack again and picked it up, picking up what was under it and looking at it for a few seconds. Between her hands was a pistol holster, with the respective weapon stored. It had several straps so it could be tied around her waist and thigh.

The world is no longer what it was. Now everything is hostile and it tries to kill you so it can keep your things. It’s eat or be eaten. Abby had to use it more times than she would like. Her father taught her how to use it when she was 14, though there wasn't much of a mystery. 

She tied the gun sheath on her thigh. She adjusted the straps well. The weight of the gun on her thigh was a reminder that sometimes you had to kill to survive. A feeling she didn't like at all.

"Hurry up Abby!" Her father's voice outside her room brought her out of her thoughts.

"I'm coming!" she answered.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder and took one last look around the place before grabbing the doorknob and leaving. She came across a scene similar to the one in the room. An abandoned apartment, with broken furniture and glass. All wrapped in the silence and mist of the morning. There was hardly any sunlight, the sun had not risen but the first rays began to show up.

She walked down the hall until she reached the living room. Her father was getting ready and putting away his things.

"Come on. Have some breakfast." He told her pointing with his chin at the food on the table.

Abby put her backpack down on one chair and sat down on another.

"Dry meet? Again?"

She looked at the food with a bored expression.

"Oh, excuse me miss. Do you want me to make you some pancakes? And some bacon?" David blurted out ironically.

The girl just rolled her eyes. To which Mason smirked.

Abby took some of the cured sausage and started her breakfast. She couldn't really complain, supplies were hard to come by. Getting long shelf life food was even more difficult. More than one night she had to go to sleep with an empty stomach, and even resort to hunting if the opportunity arose.

David ended up packing his backpack as well. He approached the table carrying two rifles. Abby watched as she finished her portion of food.

"Yesterday I cleaned them." the elder explained.

He rested one of the rifles on the side of the table, next to Abby. That was hers. The other rifle was a sniper rifle, with a telescopic sight, that was used by her father.

"Tie it to your backpack when you're done. We'll head out as soon as you're done."

She nodded.

When she finished, she did as her father told her, loading the rifle into one of the sides of the backpack, making sure it was securely fastened.

"Come on, wrap up."

When Abby looked up to her father, he handed her a jacket. A big old denim jacket, and lined with thick wool on the inside. Abby had used it countless times, it was her favorite, it had a couple of small holes but nothing serious. What she liked most about that jacket was a small badge that adorned one of her chest pockets. That ornament was very crappy, it was a beer cap attached to a safety pin. It had written in bold letters: "Congrats! You've won a Free Beer!" Her father made it for her on her last birthday as a gift.

She accepted the jacket and draped it over her, making sure to tuck the hood of the sweatshirt over her shoulders.

Then David handed her some gloves and a black beanie. She accepted them too, pulling the gloves and beanie over her head, making sure to cover her ears. She buttoned her jacket and slung the backpack over her shoulder, across her back. She waited for her father to bundle up properly as well. It was not good to have pneumonia in those days.

David put on his well-known greenish-brown jacket, beanie, and gloves. He placed his pack properly and the rifle strap over one of her shoulders. He also had a pistol strapped to his thigh.

"Ready?"

Abby nodded.

They both left the apartment, went down the stairs of the apartment block, some parts of the stairs were down. So they had to jump over them.

"Watch where you step." advised David.

They managed to get out of the building, finally reaching the street. The cold was the first thing to reach them. Then there was the incredible view of the city of Washington DC. Those big buildings, the skyscrapers, streets full of billboards. Everything made Abby open her mouth in astonishment.

But that big city was silent. There was no one on the streets, everything was desolate, not a single soul was walking around except for the little family of two. The great skyscrapers threatened to fall at some point, the abandoned buildings and streets, many of them destroyed or in very bad condition. There were wrecked or abandoned cars on the road. Storefronts were smashed, and nearly every subway entrance was demolished.

They were the echoes of a war. A war that was no longer being waged but people still suffered its consequences.

Five years ago, after Menéndez escaped from his prison and culminated his revenge on Frank Woods, a new threat appeared. it was not known where they had appeared from, a group of terrorists called The New Perseus. Cordis Die was child's game compared to what was to come later. Perseus put the whole world under their feet, took control of the combat drones and bombs of the most powerful countries, the United States, Russia and China, causing tensions and fights between countries, starting another world war. Perseus unleashed global pandemics, and released Nova 6 throughout the world's major cities.

Hell came to the world, more than half of the human population died in those five years, and the few that remained lost control. Governments disappeared or were overthrown, there were very violent riots. Presidents and politicians were killed. The remaining governments vanished. The world became anarchic, showing how cruel humanity can become when there is no longer order or law. And the only thing that remains is panic.

The main cities of the countries and the first world fell. Everything was left in a post-apocalyptic world.

Luckily, after the first three years, everything began to calm down, one day surprisingly there were no more massive terrorist acts. People began to think that they should group together to survive, restore order a little, they formed groups, alliances among themselves. Little by little, calm returned to a destroyed world, which was trying to get up again, but would never be the same again. No countries, no borders, no society.

Washington DC, like the rest of the big cities, had become a ghost town. The silence of the streets was proof of that. Abby and David walked through the city, watching windows, corners, and alleys.

At any moment they could be ambushed. People began to organize themselves into different alliances. Groups that fought against other groups for survival. Civil wars were the usual. That is why every time they went to a new city, they had to know which organizations controlled the city, which territories were neutral and which were not. Look for allies in the groups that could give them information, find the alliances that were peaceful and those that were hostile. But that did not remove the risk of being attacked by one of those organizations. They were an easy target, just two travelers. They were like a piece of meat in a cage full of lions. That is why they had to be very careful.

"Are you sure that guy was telling the truth?" Abby asked, not very convinced.

She walked beside her father, jumping over the odd barricade of rubble.

“What other option do we have? It's the only lead we have.” He replied.

"Of course, why trust a fucking drunk man who says that we will find a pilot willing to travel to Alaska when we find the ... What is their name again?"

"Wolves."

"Wolves? What kind of a name is that for an alliance? They don't have a lot of imagination if I’m honest…" Abby complained.

David chuckled and glanced at his daughter.

"According to that guy, they're peaceful people and the biggest organization around here, they sit inside the White House."

"Inside the White House?!"

"It seems so"

"Well, yes, they did a great job I guess…" assured the youngest.

Abby kicked a rock as they walked, and David didn't take his eyes off the broken windows. He had a bad feeling.

"And that pilot is supposed to have a plane or a helicopter with enough fuel to cross half the United States and then all of Canada? And he'll be willing to fly us?" She asked, not very sure.

David sighed.

"We won't know until we get there. That guy told us that he was a smuggler pilot and would soon be flying to Alaska for supplies."

"Of course... Sorry if I don't fucking trust him very much. Our luck hasn't been very good lately." Said Abby "Who knows, maybe we'll get shot before we can set foot in the White House."

"Technically they aren’t very hostile people and they are dedicated to welcoming refugees."

David and his daughter had been looking for transportation to travel to Alaska. To the place where David grew up with his father. There the situation seemed to be calmer, it would be a better place to settle down and start again.

Abby kicked the rock harder and shoved it under a burned-out car. She winced that her fun was over.

They walked for a long time through the abandoned streets. Little by little the wind grew, howling between the buildings. The sky clouded over as the morning passed. Abby put her hands under her armpits to try to keep them warm.

"This weather is fucking crazy…" she murmured.

"Yeah... These snowstorms aren't normal." David answered. "Stay close."

There was something in the environment that he didn't like. He felt as if someone was watching them.

David pointed to the entrance to an abandoned shopping center.

"Let's go inside and see what we find." he advised. "We'd better leave the streets for now."

Abby nodded, agreeing with him. She didn’t like the situation either.

They both entered. The building was large, there was rubble everywhere, the windows were broken and the walls were cracked. The view of a dilapidated shopping mall. The place was eerily silent. Sunlight streamed in through skylights in the roof, most of them broken, and bits of window litter scattered across the mall's polished floor.

"Stay alert." David ordered pulling out the gun.

Abby did the same as her father.

The silence kept all of Abby's senses on guard. She followed David very close. They walked looking at the shop windows, the abandoned shops and restaurants.

"Maybe we can find something useful around here." David said, looking at his daughter, showing a slight smile.

Abby knew there was something more.

"Did you find any snipers watching us from a rooftop?"

she asked.

David shook his head.

"No, but I had a feeling something bad was going to happen if we stayed that exposed. The sun is up already, there must be patrols around here." David explained

Abby didn't answer.

They continued exploring the mall. They searched the shops looking for something that could be useful for the trip. But almost all the stores had already been looted. They searched the first floor, found some duct tape and batteries for the flashlights. Then they went up the broken escalator, to the second floor.

Abby was rummaging through the drawers of a store cash register. She found a good amount of money. She let out a light chuckle.

"Hey dad."

David turned to see his daughter. Who showed him a wad of bills.

"Do you mind if we buy some souvenirs?"

David chuckled and walked over to Abby. He took the money and played with it for a while. The money had lost all value. It was no longer used anymore. Everything began to have a different price after the fall of governments. Now it was traded with barter and exchange of goods.

"Sure, we can go to the movies too. What was the name of that movie you liked so much? The one about space."

"Interstellar?"

"Yeah, that one. Would you like to watch it again?"

"Fuck yes. I miss going to the movies."

David chuckled.

"Although I like Star Trek more."

"My god dad... I still don't understand why mom married a man who likes Star Trek." Abby rolled her eyes.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, just that Star Wars is better."

David raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! Bad guys are cooler. Darth Vader is the best villain."

Abby cleared her throat and faked Darth Vader's artificial breathing.

"Luke, I am your father." She said in a slightly deeper voice.

David laughed and shook his head.

"Someday I'll use that phrase with you."

"Okay, but don't cut my hand off with a lightsaber."

"I don’t promise anything."

Abby put her hand on her chest pretending to be offended.

"My God... Betrayed by my own father..."

This time it was David who rolled his eyes.

"Come on. Let's not waste any more time."

Abby started to answer but the sound of breaking glass stopped her. They both fell silent, not moving a single muscle.

"We aren’t alone."

David reached for the rifle that hung from the side of his daughter's backpack. He made sure the gun was loaded.

"Don't get away from me." David whispered.

Abby nodded and kept her index finger on the trigger of the gun. They both left the store in silence, watching their steps. Trying not to step on broken glass or trip over any debris.

David took a look before leaving the store. He motioned for Abby to follow him.

"We'll try to get out without attracting attention."

They heard voices downstairs. David looked over the railing that led to the floor below. He found a patrol of five men. They seemed to be alert, as if they were looking for someone. They were probably looking for the two of them.

"There are five armed men." David informed when he returned with his daughter.

"What do we do?" Abby frowned.

David didn't have time to answer because the sound of a gunshot interrupted him. The bullet grazed Abby's cheek, leaving a superficial cut on her cheek, a small part of her ear was missing too. Blood Started running on her cheek. 

"Found them!" The man who had fired the shot yelled.

"Take cover!" David pushed his daughter behind a large stone planter that must have served as a decoration for the mall. David also took coverage with his daughter.

"Don't you dare raise your head."

In just the blink of an eye the mall was filled with gunfire. David aimed accurately and fired. Trying to use as few bullets as possible. They were short of ammunition. David killed two men. Abby kept her head down, just as her father had ordered, with the gun ready.

The other three men went up to the second floor without stopping shooting.

"Stay here. Don't move." David ordered.

He took advantage of the moment when the enemies were reloading their weapons to advance. He jumped over the stone planter and ran to take cover behind a pillar.

"You little piece of shit!" The voice of a sixth man echoed through the mall.

David turned toward the voice. Abby found herself wrestling with a man twice her size. He had a knife in one hand, swinging from side to side. Abby dodged as best she could. She had lost the gun at some point in the fight. Whenever she got the chance, she would throw a punch into the man's ribs.

David wanted to intervene but the rest of the enemies wouldn’t let him move from the site. If he moved an inch, they would shoot him.

Abby was nimble and quick, but a carelessness caused her to lose her rhythm. The man grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and threw her several meters into the air. Abby landed so hard the air was forced out of her lungs. She didn't have time to recover as the man lunged at her with the knife pointed at her throat. Abby used all her strength to push the knife away from her, but the man was stronger and the blade kept getting closer. Suddenly Abby kicked the man's balls with her knee. She took advantage of that moment of weakness to take the knife from the man and with a quick movement, she plunged it into his throat. Abby could see how life drained from the man's face, how the blood came out of his neck and mouth. As soon as she pulled the knife out of her neck, she kicked the man's body as far away from her as possible. Abby backed away. She watched as that man was surrounded by a pool of blood.

The two men fired again. The bullets blew off pieces of the column. David took the right opportunity, took aim and fired. With two clean shots that went through the heads of both men.

When the silence returned David ran to his daughter.

"Abby!"

The girl spit out some blood on the floor. Her hands were shaking due to adrenaline.

“Fucking bastard.”

David knelt in front of her, blocking her view of the bleeding man on the ground.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

David began to inspect his daughter. He was very worried.

"I’m ok. The ribs hurt but that’s all” She sighed. She clenched her jaw. 

"Hey."

David took the girl's face with both hands, checking that wound made by that bullet.

It wasn’t the first time that she had killed someone, but she never got used to the feeling.

David noticed that she was lost in her thoughts. 

"Close your heart." David said in a soft voice. "He would have killed you if you hadn't done it first."

Abby nodded with her eyes fixed on that dead man.

"Can you continue?"

Abby nodded and sighed, closing her eyes.

"Yeah... Let's get out of here."

David nodded and got up. He grabbed the knife that was on the ground and wiped the blade on the man's corpse's clothing. He looked at the knife. It was a steel butterfly knife. It seemed of good quality. He folded the knife away, hiding the blade, and handed it to Abby.

"You're going to need it. This won't be the last time." David said. Abby had lost her knife a couple months ago, it was a good opportunity to get a new one. 

Abby looked at the knife for a few seconds and grabbed it. She played with it a little bit. Then she went to pick up her gun that was lying somewhere.

David took it upon himself to search the bodies for anything that might be useful. Abby helped.

"Hey, look at this." David called her.

Abby walked over to where her father was. Near David's feet was the dead body of one of the men who attacked them.

"What is it about?" she asked

"Look at their jackets. They all have the same patch."

David pointed to a little drawing of an animal etched into one of the corpse's shoulders.

"It's a dog?"

"No, it's a hyena. And they all have the same animal."

"Do you think they are part of a larger group?"

He nodded.

David looked up and looked around until he found some stairs that led to the upper floors.

"I think we can go up to the roof over there. Let's take a look at the city."

They went up to the roof in silence..

When they got to the roof. They both got to see a view of  Washington D.C. Abby was looking at the buildings until David pointed to something in the distance. She tried to focus her eyes, until she finally saw a large white building with a large dome and no building around it.

"That's where we're going. The White House."

[professorthaddeus]

Mother, Father. This will be my final letter.

You know, I used to find the two of you everywhere. I would see the love I betrayed in the faces of families who are whole. I would hear your terrified screams in laughter. I would see your bodies twisted in agony in the flickering of a campfire. I would feel your blood on my hands every time I cast a spell.

I would find you everywhere, and so I held fast to the possibility that I would bring you back.

Today, I relinquished the chance of it ever becoming a reality.

I could have gone back and saved you. It would have worked. There were puzzle pieces in that chamber that I would have clicked into place; there was magic buried in those relics that I would have unlocked and unleashed.

I would have joined the ranks of mages of myth. I could have unraveled everything.

The chamber is nothing but ashes now.

I still find the two of you everywhere. Your dreams for my potential are in the spells I learned from Essek. Your hope for the Empire is in Beauregard’s pen as she fights for our people, stroke by stroke. Your love is in the grin that Veth shines on her son when he fires a toy crossbow at the ass of a local shopkeeper.

I miss you. I love you. I am sorry.

I hope I can still make you proud.

~

Caleb closes that worn, leather-bound book for the last time. Tucks it back beneath his arm, stands, walks to the entryway of his tower. His hand shakes as he reaches for the handle.

Well, you and the Nein got me to the door. Now I have to walk through it.

He takes a deep breath, then takes his first step outside.

He arrives in Blumenthal alone, visits their graves, leaves his letters in the ground.

And he gets to work. But in this, he is not alone.

Beauregard is there, matching every armload of books he carries with two of her own. They spend their days compiling records and narratives, wielding the truth both in court and behind the scenes—children of the Empire leaving their home better than they found it for the children who will come after them, just as they always vowed.

What wasn’t planned is this: a couple times every week, Beauregard drags Caleb out of the library. They teleport to a remote cottage in a location that few are privy to, where Yasha will have started preparing the ingredients for a new recipe from Caduceus. The instructions are often passed through a jumbled chain of Jester’s messages, and there always seem to be a suspicious number of bugs included for supposedly vegetarian dishes, but they make it work all the same. On more than a few occasions, Caleb plays referee while Beauregard and Yasha spar, safe in the knowledge that their attacks are of their own free will and they will never truly harm each other again.

Jester and Fjord spend much of their time on the open sea, but Jester’s voice is never far from Caleb’s ear. She tells him of everything from her newest tattoo victim to an encounter with a dragon turtle with a grudge, from a shanty about dicks she came up with on the fly to an update on a young half-orc girl Fjord has taken under his wing. Every once in a while, Jester will demand a reunion, too. Some of them are out of necessity—such as when Uk’otoa finally comes knocking and Fjord can no longer sail the other away—but many are not. They meet in Nicodranas when the Nein Heroez docks for a pastry run, they meet in Hupperdook for a night packed with drinking contests and celebone sticks and hugs for Kiri, they meet on Rumblecusp when life becomes too much and the nine of them sorely need to fuck off to a vacation. Soon, even Darktow is open to them, once Kingsley has unseated the Plank King and lifted their ban from the island. His reign is long, and it is magnificent. Until he grows bored.

Caduceus joins them for every mandated reunion, but for the most part, he tends to his garden or explores the world on his own. But he is never out of reach, and when he does not come to the rest of them, they go to him. It is not uncommon for Caleb to arrive in the Blooming Grove to see Beauregard already meditating by the pond. Other times, Fjord will be there drinking tea with Caduceus, and the three of them will share a quiet conversation, each far more secure in their words than they’d been over fish and chips all those years ago. Often it is just Caduceus and his parents and siblings, and Caleb will be invited to a family dinner in a home that Ikithon could not burn down.

Veth remains a constant in Caleb’s life. Of course she does. Sometimes, when the two of them are teaching the neighborhood kids how to point a copper wire, or reminiscing over a glass of sherry, or simply talking while she weaves flowers into his hair on the beaches of Nicodranas, he’ll think back to his old fears of losing her to her family and laugh. After all, how could such a thing be possible when he is a part of her family himself?

There are others, too.

Countless students who pass under his tutelage and grow into young mages who know that power should be used to protect, not to manipulate. A cat—well, there are many cats, but there is one in particular that Caleb does not own, a snowy white fey cat who slinks in and out of his classroom as he pleases, whose eyes seem to flash when the Martinet arrives to have a word, who settles into place around Caleb’s shoulders with a purr when the rare nightmare returns.

An unexpected kinship with Yeza, forged at first through mutual respect and an understanding in their love for Veth, but eventually growing into a friendship in its own right. It is one that unfolds in quiet nights by stacks of books, in gleeful debates when comparing notes on magic and alchemy, in exhausted evenings watching over Luc together while Veth takes a girls’ night out to cause some chaos with Jester, Beauregard, and Yasha.

His old friends, who, try as they might, never seem able to sever the threads that have always tangled their fates together. It is Eadwulf who comes around first, with the silent offering of a bottle and a grim smile as he and Caleb crumble the bricks of Vergesson to dust. Astrid takes time. It makes sense—she has always been a fantastic dancer, and for a while, it appears they will be trapped in a precarious political tango forever, stepping around each other in their roles as the Archmage of Civil Influence and a simple teacher who may or may not be practicing treason in his classroom. But in the shadows, Astrid pulls a few strings to keep Caleb out of prison. Caleb hears a rumor and sends the might of the Cobalt Soul after a colleague who wants Astrid dead. And eventually, she begins joining him and Wulf on their evening walks through the streets of Rexxentrum. They return to the dance hall. They get lunch. They share memories, relearn each other’s old scars, and discover that solace can still be found in each other the way it was when they were children. It will always be complicated. It starts to become beautiful.

And of course, floating by Caleb’s side every step of the way is Essek, a drow who has learned to curb his ambition and care for others, who has decided to make his own amends. The former Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, who now spends his days picking up cupcakes for Jester in Uthodurn, planting seeds in the Blooming Grove. Sitting in on Caleb’s lessons with a different face each week, sketching runes into the floor of Caleb’s home amongst scattered papers and spell components, curling up on a couch beside Caleb and begrudgingly getting through Tusk Love because he promised. A traitor, a hero, a lifelong friend. A steadfast love.

So when Caleb Widogast arrives at the final page of his story, he is no longer shrouded in guilt, or grief, or regret. No, he is surrounded by the warmth of his chosen family when he takes his last breath, when time has run its course and he is finally ready to meet his parents again.

(And even before he sees their faces, he knows. He knows he made them proud.)

—————

also on ao3 | my other cr fics

[juniorgman187]

Things We Know By Heart (Spencer Reid Fluff)

Summary: Reader teaches Spencer how to slow dance in preparation for his wedding. The only problem? Reader’s in love with Spencer, and she isn’t the bride. 

A/N: S/O to Kyla who bullied me throughout all of elementary school. Ik you’ve probably changed since then, but you literally traumatized and tormented me for more than six years of my life. So I felt like including you in this story as, “Kayla,” Spencer’s fiancé. Tehe, I’m petty like that.  Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff Word Count: 6.5k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

I think we’d all like to believe that somewhere out there is our person. And somehow, someway, they’ll get to where they need to go, right where they belong. 

With us. 

That’s what I’d like to believe. 

I’d like to think that no matter what happens along our journeys to each other, we’ll arrive at the same destination regardless. 

But that isn’t necessarily true, is it? 

Because maybe, my soulmate got lost along the way. They met somebody great, someone they think is their person, and they married that person. They had kids and eventually, grandkids with that person, even though, deep down - they knew it wasn’t right. They stayed with them anyway because their fear of being alone superseded their fear of being with the wrong person for life. 

And what am I to do when that happens? When my person finds a different person. 

Am I supposed to believe that the universe will be so kind as to give my soulmate the courage to leave their relationship behind and forge a new one with me? 

Am I supposed to expect that the world will supply me with another person, the person I’m supposed to marry? 

Or do I simply wait for my person to come to the conclusion that they’re meant to be with me after all and my naive entitlement to a soulmate is validated?

Is life really that magical? 

This is the story of what happens when your person loves a different person.

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

With his hand at the nape of my neck to support my head and his other hand flat against the small of my back, he dipped me backward, leaning with me as I arched my back and bent the leg closest to the crowd, pointing my foot to elongate my leg artistically. This was our ending position so I remained in it until the song ended. The two of us bowed to thank the audience and to conclude our performance. Roses fell at our feet while the sound of applause echoed in the room. I was never a fan of being the center of attention, but there was something about this overwhelming praise that was particularly blissful. It was intoxicating. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance like that.” I gushed to my partner; my cheeks growing pink from the heat and the head rush I got. 

He positioned his mouth right beside my ear so I could hear his words clearly over the rowdy cheering. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Princess.” said Morgan.

A gauntlet formed to clap for us both when we walked off the dance floor. Hand-in-hand, Morgan led me back to the table through the double file line of people. The team howled with excitement when they saw me and Morgan approaching.

“So this is what you two were keeping a secret from us? That you’re dance partners?” JJ had to ask. 

“Yep. All those late nights and secret rendezvous.” Morgan said, shimmying his shoulders be suggestive of a sexual innuendo, which I was not a fan of. Out of mock offense, I chucked a small towel at him with a grouchy command to “Shut up!” 

He took the towel to the face like a champ, laughing it off and dabbing his sweat away. 

“I don’t know who was sexier up there - Princess or my Hubba Hubba!” Garcia squealed pretending to claw at Derek, reeling him over towards her. 

“You looked like a natural up there, Y/N. Were you a dancer before?” Prentiss questioned while handing me a glass of water that I desperately gulped down. 

“My mom sent me to dance classes as soon as I could walk.” I jokingly explained after gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail and lifting it off of my neck, cocking my head to the side and fanning the back of my neck to cool down. 

“Maybe you should teach Reid how to dance before the wedding. He’s got two left feet and I don’t think he wants Morgan to teach him how to waltz.” JJ quipped, making Derek throw his head back in laughter. The thought of Morgan and Reid slow dancing would truly be something - something hilarious. I laughed, too, until Reid’s voice interrupted me.

“Yeah, that’s actually a really good idea. Would you mind, Y/N? Kayla would be so happy.” 

I thought he was joking, but his humorless expression told me otherwise. 

“You want me to teach you how to dance?” 

He pursed his lips and nodded, not understanding why I was so confused. 

“Um . . . yeah. I can do that. Sure.” My tone wasn’t very convincing, but Reid’s optimism made him oblivious to my reluctance. He smiled and hugged me with one arm around my shoulder. 

“I have to call Kay and tell her the good news.” Reid dashed away from the table, pulling out his phone to dial his fiancé. 

I darted toward JJ with fury and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her into the bathroom for privacy. 

“What the hell was that? ‘Oh, Y/N, you should teach him how to dance.’ You know how I feel about Reid!” 

Rather than giving me hostility back, she broke into a smile. “Exactly! If you spend more time alone with him, maybe he’ll finally admit to himself that he shouldn’t be marrying Kayla,”

I rolled my eyes and turned my back away from her. 

“We all know Spence would be happier with you.” 

As JJ spoke, I trudged to the nearest sink, holding onto the sides for stability as the ground below me swayed. She followed me, rubbing up and down my back comfortingly. 

“You know how he is. He keeps things to himself, until eventually they’re forced to come out. If you dance with him, maybe he’ll finally tell you he loves you without actually having to say it. Do this for him . . . and for you.” JJ gave me one last pat on the back before exiting the bathroom to leave me to my devices.

Normally, teaching a friend how to slow dance in preparation for his wedding would be sweet. It’d be a selfless gesture and an act of service for him that would show how much love there was in our friendship. In this case though, it was anything but. 

For the six months that Spencer and Kayla had been engaged, the team was relentless in trying to end it. I tried to stay out of it in case all hell broke loose, but I couldn’t escape it. No - I was at the very center of it. 

Before Reid even knew Kayla existed, he was head-over-heels in love with me. He’d ask me on coffee dates, wait by my desk for me, and he would always try to sit beside me at the round table or on the jet. It was sweet, really, but it could never go anywhere. 

I was in a committed relationship with my high school sweetheart Patrick. (Maybe Spencer had a thing for unavailable girls).

I moved in with Patrick after graduating from college, and after years of working in the BAU (and years of Spencer loving me) Pat proposed. At first, being engaged brought me so much joy, but halfway into our engagement, something changed.

I was in Wisconsin, consoling a grieving widow. She was hysterical after I delivered the treacherous news of her husband’s gruesome murder. She eventually calmed down and proceeded to ask me about my engagement when she noticed my ring. I gave her the bare minimum, fabricated a couple things here and there, but then she asked me the million dollar question. 

“Are you in love?” Her eyes glimmered with hope. 

My immediate answer was a habitual “Yes, of course.” But after seeing how deeply this widow loved her late husband, I couldn’t say in good conscience that that answer was actually true. 

That night I went to the hotel and lied on the bed, praying for clarity. 

Perhaps I wasn’t actually in love with Patrick. Maybe we’d been together for so long that it just felt safe and comfortable and familiar. Maybe it was the fear of disrupting the arrangement of my life that stopped me from ending things sooner. 

The fact of the matter was that I’d only ever known a life loving him, but that didn’t mean I was in love with him. Maybe I was settling for something with Pat, because I wasn’t sure if I could have a better relationship with anyone else. With all these doubts, I needed a sign. 

A knock on the door interrupted my inner dialogue. 

When I opened it, who else was standing there, but none other than Rossi.

“We need to talk.” He ordered. 

He followed me back into the room and sat at the foot of the bed. He said he noticed something was off about me, and I admitted that there was. So that night, I took advice I probably shouldn’t have from the man with multiple failed marriages, but it was a sign - and it was good enough.

When we returned to Quantico, I asked Hotch for some personal time, which he was happy to permit. That same night I went home and broke off the engagement with Patrick. 

I felt despicably cold when I watched him tear up and ask me, “Why are you doing this?” 

There was truly no concrete moment in our relationship that incited my decision, but it was merely the realization that being with him wasn’t right, because how could I stand there watching him beg for a change of heart but still feel nothing? 

Maybe I was much less than not in love. Maybe I didn’t feel a thing for him at all. Not hate. Not empathy. Not love. Just . . . nothing. 

Completely indifferent. 

Within the week of personal time I took, I spent most of it moving into Rossi’s guest house. After I came back from work, it took all of two hours before someone brought up the absence of the ring that I used to never take off, and I’d assumed they’d already noticed it the moment I walked in - they were just too afraid to ask.

“I ended things with Patrick.” I casually stated, not even looking up from my portfolio to give it the attention it probably deserved. 

While the rest of the team’s jaws dropped on the floor, Rossi was fighting a smirk considering this wasn’t news to him and having seen everyone else’s reactions was a priceless moment for him. 

There was a brief moment of awkward silence on the jet as the team processed my information, until finally Hotch cleared his throat and started debriefing again. In the seat next to me, Spencer was very poorly hiding his enthusiasm. Hearing I broke off the engagement was like a green light to make his move. And honestly, it was. 

So I waited. 

And I waited. 

And I waited. 

Then I waited some more for him to jump at the opportunity. 

But he didn’t. 

He never did. 

Instead, he introduced Kayla into our lives, and eventually, they’d get engaged, too. 

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t developed feelings for Spencer while I expected him to act upon his palpable affection for me. And because of my newfangled feelings, I could never tell another soul that I sincerely believed Spencer got engaged just to spite me - to show me just how painful unrequited love was. 

The strangest part of it all, though, was that there was never a moment following the ending of my engagement and the birth of his own that showed me that his feelings went away. He never treated me differently or stopped talking to me. Even in the early stages of his relationship with Kayla, he continued to act like I was the only girl in his life. He was so consistent with his actions that it confused me.

Did he love me or not? And was I in love with him or not?

Evidently, the team seemed to have my answer. 

“He loves you and you love him. It’s as simple as that.” Prentiss explained curtly. 

Agreeing nods came from JJ, Morgan, and Garcia, who’d abducted me as soon as I exited the elevator that morning and snuck me into Garcia’s Bat Cave for an intervention. 

“We need to stop this wedding.” Garcia demanded. 

And since that glorious intervention, the team (minus Rossi and Hotch because Rossi seemed genuinely happy for Reid, and Hotch would definitely tell us it wasn’t our place) began trying to put a wedge in the relationship. I, however, made the smart choice not to be involved. 

If I was trying to get him to love me, why would I do something that would surely make him hate me like breaking up his engagement? Plus, the blind optimist in me believed that if I was actually meant to be with Spencer, it would happen regardless of Kayla. 

So anytime Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia suggested something, I refused to participate. I was able to steer clear of any wedding crasher shenanigans up until JJ’s “slow-dance” suggestion. 

If Reid knew the true intentions behind these dance classes, he surely wouldn’t be pleased, but clearly - he didn’t. Because when I walked out of the restroom and back to the table, Reid still had a huge grin that took up half of his face, making his eyes look nearly shut. 

“Thank you again for doing this.” Reid beamed. 

“Of course! What are friends for?” 

Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia exchanged satirical glances at my choice of words. 

What are friends for if not to purposefully set two people up in hopes of ending one person’s betrothal?

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

Later that weekend . . 

“Come in!” I called out, buckling the ankle strap of my heels. 

The door opened partially and then all at once to reveal the one and only. I peeked my head out from behind a wall that was obstructing my view of him, immediately noticing a bouquet of lavender wrapped in twine. 

“Oh my goodness, what is this?” I asked in pure delight as he handed me the pretty purple flowers. 

“It’s a thank-you gift for agreeing to help me.” His lips formed a thin straight line, which was his version of a smile. A smile I appreciated whenever I was lucky enough to have caused it. 

“They’re lovely, thank you.” I told him, hugging him briefly before fetching a vase from the kitchen to put them in.

“Oh, good, I’ll tell Kayla you liked them. She’s the one who picked them out.”

The glass vase nearly shattered the moment he said that, but luckily, my reflex skills spared the vessel.

How big of a fool was I for thinking that he gave me flowers out of the kindness of his heart because he knew lavender was my favorite? But then again I probably needed that brutal reminder of why he was here in the first place - for Kayla.

As I put the vase on the kitchen island, I spun around, brandishing a fake smile. 

“So we should probably get started. I don’t wanna keep you here for too long.” 

“There’s no rush. Kayla won’t be home until late at night.” 

I tried not to think of the potential innuendo that lied within his statement, but Spencer wasn’t type to be disloyal, and I wasn’t going to be the woman to make him such a person.

“You look really nice, by the way.” I heard him say from behind me, catching a whiff of his cologne that was intoxicatingly sweet.

I did my best to not take the comment personally and let it get to my head, but I’d be lying if it didn’t elicit any response. I smiled to myself, which thankfully, he couldn’t see since my back was towards him as he followed me into my backyard. 

“You smell different.” He added. 

“Good different?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Is it a new perfume?”

I furrowed my brows. “No, it’s the same one I’ve been using for years.”

“Interesting,” I could feel him taking in this information, and I could hear the gears in his head turning at an even faster rate to spit out more information. “Did you know that you pick your soulmate by subconsciously reacting to pheromones that transmit their genetic compatibility? Yeah, there’s a relationship between attraction and scent, which dates back to our primal instinct. So if someone smells appealing to you, even if you don’t know it, it could relate to your attraction to them and vice versa.” 

“Ah, then maybe I should consider changing my perfume to improve my love life.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I love the way you smell.”

In the back of my mind lied the unanswered question I neglected to voice, “But do you love me?”

When we reached the backyard, I heard him gasp in awe. 

“It looks beautiful, Y/N. You did great.”  

Nestled in my backyard was a dark wooden deck, surrounded by plentiful greenery. Lining the perimeter of the shiny wooden deck were asymmetrical rocks, while above us hung strands of fairy lights that cast a sheer golden glow on the entire scene. The ambiance was not for Spencer specifically, but I was happy that he appreciated it nonetheless. 

“You ready?” 

He signaled yes by putting his thumb up and so it began.

“Alright, so slow dancing can be broken into four easy steps, but first, you gotta know how to hold your partner correctly.” 

Spencer and I took a step towards each other, and I could feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. I tried not to call attention to it, so I simply continued with my process. Outstretching my arms to form a T with my body, I guided him verbally. 

“So I’m the follower. And you’re the leader. Got it?” 

He nodded. 

“Leader puts their right hand under the follower's left armpit and cups their hand around the follower's shoulder blade.” 

He understood my instructions, and in the most awkward manner possible, he fumbled his way into the right position, albeit, not perfect. 

“Now, hold my right hand as high as my eye level without raising my shoulder.” 

Spencer was glaringly anxious, so I gave him a word of encouragement. “Hey, don’t be nervous. It’s just me, okay? And you’re doing great.”

I could see the nerves beginning to settle, translating into the conviction with which he took my hand, raising it at the perfect height. 

“Great. Just like that.” 

My praise brought out that smile in him that only ever came out on rare occasions. The kind where it’s brief, his teeth showing, a light chuckle escapes him, and he’s looking down as if he’s too shy to look at me. 

“Okay, step two is basic footwork. Leader starts with their left foot and takes a step to the left. And then your right foot is going to meet your left foot and tap. The count is one-two.” 

I watched as Spencer tried to process what I was saying. 

“Do you want me to demonstrate first? And then you follow?” 

He nodded rapidly as if saying yes wouldn’t be enough to communicate how much he needed me to lead. We broke apart so that I could turn my back towards him. I felt a cold draft blow under my dress as I spun on the ball of my feet, making my skirt flutter upwards majestically. 

I felt him watching. 

“Alright, so I’ll start and then you can catch on. It goes one-two.” 

Left foot step. Right foot tap. 

“Then three-four.” 

Left foot step. Right foot tap. 

“Then to the right this time. Five-six.” 

Right foot step. Left foot tap. 

“Seven-eight.” 

Right foot step. Left foot tap.

“And back again. One-two. Three-four. Five-six. Seven-eight.” 

My eight count continued until the click of my heels on the patio was joining by the sound of Spencer’s feet shuffling behind me. I knew if I turned around to check on him, it would only psych him out and make him more nervous, so I stayed facing forward so he wouldn’t feel that I was scrutinizing his technique. 

After a minute or so of following me, I spun back around, catching his lingering stare in the region of my hips. He tried to play it off and pretend he wasn’t, but I felt it. 

“You did really well tonight. I’m proud of you. I think that’s a good place to stop for today.” 

He thanked me with another hug, the kind where we nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck. 

God, I could feel him breathing on my shoulder. 

I tried not to not to let myself indulge in it, reasoning that this was just a way for one friend to thank another, but I couldn’t help myself when the hug lasted longer than it should’ve. I tightened my embrace around him, drawing him in closer, and shutting my eyes as if taking my sense of sight away would heighten my sense of touch and magnify this feeling I never wanted to end.

“You take care, okay?” I said, rubbing my hand up and down his back to signal we should pull away, a signal he understood.

I was the first to walk away, merely because of the worry that I might sooner cry if I had to stay under these lights with him a moment longer. 

I wasn’t sure I could do this again unless he was mine. Otherwise, I’d just be under the stars, dancing with the love of my life that I couldn’t have - feeling that feeling again, and not being able to act on it. 

Is this what happens when your person loves somebody else?

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

I know I said I couldn’t do it, but I did it anyway. 

I guess that’s what love is. Doing things you don’t want to do because your care for the other person surpasses the discomfort. True love makes you do things like that, even if they aren’t in your best interest.

When he came over the next night, we danced again. Undoubtedly, he stumbled - even came close to falling - and yet, I fell in love all over again. After that, it got harder to separate dancing from my feelings. 

The next day, we had a case. He came to my hotel room and we danced in the dim golden light of the hotel room’s chandelier. God, it was so ambient and romantic, I think I fell even harder for him - if that was even possible. 

From then on, every time we were in the same place, he leapt at the opportunity to dance with me. 

“Guys, look what I learned last night! Come, Y/N! Come on, come on.” 

He waved me over eagerly with his hand, even helping me out of my seat in the round table just to speed up the process. All too excitedly, he assumed the leader’s position, and he danced me around the entire conference room in front of our coworkers. He spun me around the table, he dipped me in the doorway, he held me in his arms by the glass board. 

Can you really blame me for falling in love? 

“Wow, Y/N! I’m impressed. You really whipped him into shape.” JJ remarked with a clap. 

I hid behind a faux smile, but Spencer was too elated to recognize the deceit. He was like that now. Maybe love made him more of a fool, more naive and blissfully unaware, whereas love made me more devoted and cognizant. 

It went on like that for weeks. Practicing whenever and wherever we could. 

He’d pull me into the hotel lobby at midnight to dance - not even batting an eye at the looming presence of the receptionist. 

He’d ask me to come to his apartment and we’d dance in his living room or in the narrow hallway, just for fun. 

When we were at Rossi’s, he’d drag me to the kitchen, with Rossi’s gentle music playing in the background, and we’d sway by the fireplace sometimes. 

We danced once in the elevator when it got stuck. I never thought he’d be so fearless to do that, but he looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself, almost like he didn’t even notice we were stuck in an elevator. 

While we waited for the jet, we’d danced on the tarmac, looking like a moving bundle of clothes, our movements stifled by our thick peacoats, layers of clothes, and scarfs. 

After a dinner during cases, when we’d split a cab back to the hotel, he’d get me to dance on the sidewalk, even convincing me not to pay attention to the onlookers on the street, the honking cars, or the confused pedestrians. I was always embarrassed to be in the spotlight, but somehow with him, it was easy. It felt like it was just the two of us, dancing under that streetlight. 

I never understood why people wanted to live in a moment forever, but for the first time that night, I did. That was a moment I wanted to freeze in time. I wish I could’ve stayed there forever. There in that moment, it really felt like it was our own little world. It was easy to believe we’d end up together, and we were the ones getting married, and we were in love. 

But again, that was in that moment. In that singular, fleeting moment. And then life moved on, whether or not I was ready for it to. 

The day of rehearsals inevitably came, and I wasn’t originally supposed to be at the wedding rehearsal since I wasn’t part of the ceremony, but Spencer asked me to be there, deliberately neglecting to tell me that the reason he wanted me to come was so that I could fill in for Kayla, which had I known that, I would’ve certainly declined. 

When I walked in, the team was all there, sitting in the pews, with their heads turning to me where I was standing at the entrance of the church. It felt like an eerie nightmare that I was living out where I was Spencer’s bride walking down the aisle, and this was our wedding. I couldn’t tell you what was so nightmarish about it - probably because none of it felt right - but I was sick to my stomach when Spencer gestured for me to meet him at the altar. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Kayla had a last minute dress alteration in Norfolk and got stuck in traffic. She won’t make it for this rehearsal, but she’ll be there in time for the dinner rehearsal.” 

“So why am I here?” 

“I wanted to practice my vows on you, if that’s okay.” 

I gulped hard, trying to swallow the lump in my throat to open up my suddenly-closing airway. 

“Um, I don’t really know if -”

“Please, Y/N. I’m just nervous that I might mess up-”

How could I say no? True love makes you do crazy things, even if they aren’t in your best interest, right?

I reluctantly agreed. 

Spencer’s hands were trembling and I could see it by the way his notecards were shaking, even from the fact that he brought notecards alone, and that he didn’t already memorize his vows. I wanted to put my hands around his and hold them to settle his unsteadiness, but I knew that wasn’t my place. I figured my words would do a better job at not crossing a boundary that was already crossed.

“Hey,” I comfortingly whispered. “It’s just me, okay?” Calling back those words from the first time we danced months ago. “You don’t need those notecards. Just speak from the heart.”

And sure enough, his heart spoke. 

“When people used to tell me stories about what love felt like and what is what, they always said they fell in love with that person. Like it was sudden and all at once, but with you - I walked into love with you. With my eyes wide open, choosing to take each and every step along the way. I never believed in fate or destiny, but after I met you, I finally believed. I believed that we are only fated to do the things that we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

My breath hitched as I got lost in his eyes and how they were looking right at me, completely unmindful of the way everyone around us saw how he spoke to me. 

I think he even got lost too, because what he said next, didn’t even seem to register in his mind before it came out of his mouth. 

“I love you . . . Y/N.” 

Gasps rang through the church, ricocheting off the high ceiling, and in that moment I knew, I knew he was going to kiss me. 

He lunged forward in the heat of the moment. Clearly not thinking straight, he held my face in his hands, and I swear to God, I could’ve kissed him back. 

I would’ve. 

“Spencer?” 

Every single head in the church turned toward the small voice, too distinct to misplace. 

“Kayla, wait!’ 

And there I stood, alone at the front of the altar, watching him run after her. 

∙•○⦾☉☼☉⦾○•∙

I sat by my phone the entire afternoon, waiting for someone - anyone - to update me. No one ever ended up texting or calling, so I figured the dinner rehearsal wasn’t cancelled. At least, in that case, my dress didn’t go to waste. 

After spending an ungodly amount of time curling my hair and putting on my makeup, even achieving a smoky eye look, I finally slipped on my navy-blue, satin, floor length dress, donning nude heels and a dainty gold necklace with a single diamond pendant that laid right on my sternum. 

It was a shame that this was a moment where I should’ve felt at my prettiest, and yet, I’d never felt so ugly. 

I was riddled with the guilt of knowing I would’ve kissed Spencer if Kayla hadn’t walked in. I felt even worse that I was so consumed by his speech that I didn’t even hear her come in. 

How long had she been standing there? Long enough to watch what I knew everyone else saw? These questions never left me. Not even when I pulled into the site of the dinner rehearsal. 

Clutching the front of my dress to walk without resistance, I came to the entrance, and opened the door to reveal . . . nothing.

Staff was removing chairs and tables. 

Waiters were collecting plates and utensils. 

And Spencer was standing in the very middle of the empty room, watching it all happen silently, like he was just the shell of a man. 

“Spencer!” I called out from the entrance, in no hurry to meet him at the middle of the room. He turned on his heels, with his hands sheepishly shoved into his pockets. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve called to let you know it got cancelled, but um, Kayla broke my phone.”

“Well, it’s time you got a new phone anyway.” I chuckled, which thankfully earned a chuckle from him, too. 

“What happened, Spencer?” My voice was quiet, as if it was any decibel higher it would sound more like a scold than genuine concern. 

“She, um, she told me she needed some time to think. And I, I told her to come to the rehearsal dinner if she still wanted to get married and,” He mirthlessly chuckled. “Well, you already know.” His words were chosen carefully to deliberately avoid what he hadn’t yet come to terms with. 

She didn’t come. 

I wasn’t yet sure whether or not to console him or to berate him for what he almost did, but I chose the former. 

“I’m so sorry, Spence.” 

He looked up from the ground, still managing to avoid my gaze, by looking up at the ceiling, and pretty much everywhere my face wasn’t. 

“I understand if you want to leave right now. I just need to pay the owner and I’ll be out of here.” 

I shook my head instantly. “No, I’ll be right here. If you want me to be.” 

He bit his lip to stop a sob from escaping. “Yeah,” He nodded, cowering his head. “I’d like that a lot.” 

As soon as I saw his cheeks get red, I took it as a cue to approach him and hug him. He was grateful for my compassionate touch, immediately opening up his arms to hug me back. His embrace around me was needy and desperate, and it felt like he was clawing at my dress, acting out of anger that the fabric was stopping us from being that much closer. 

With his shoulder digging into the spot right underneath my chin, it was hard to utter the words, “You look really handsome, by the way.” I said, finally acknowledging his light beige suit and white button up shirt. 

“Thanks.” I heard him mumble into my shoulder. 

“Kayla doesn’t know what she’s missing.” 

To my surprise, he didn’t recoil, flinch, or so much as react to her name. Instead, he simply pulled away, wiping the moisture under his nose, and straightening out his suit. 

“We should . . . we should probably talk about what happened earlier, right?” 

I sighed and shook my head. “Not if you don’t want to. We can save that conversation for another day.”

He looked appreciative of my avoidance, but I knew he wanted to talk about it. 

“Hey, excuse me,” He stopped a staff member by clutching their arm gently. “Do you mind, actually? Leaving two seats behind.” 

The staff member complied, doing as he said, and leaving two chairs behind, setting one right across from the other. I took my seat, and Spencer took his.

“I probably shouldn’t have spoken from the heart, huh?” He joked, finally seeing the humor in his situation. 

“No, it was good that you did.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. I think Kayla would’ve appreciated it.” All too quickly he responded with, “I wasn’t talking about Kayla.” 

I was talking about you, his somber eyes said. 

I looked away from his gaze immediately, trying to find a reprieve from the conversation that I was doing my best to avoid. 

“It was a really good speech. It sounded so natural. Like something you knew by heart.”

“Something I knew by heart?” He didn’t seem to understand what I meant. 

“Yeah, some things we just know by heart. Like the lyrics to our favorite song, or a recipe, how to dance,” We both chuckled at the reference. “Or . . . how to love.” 

“Do you think we know who to love by heart or do you think we make that choice ourselves?”

“I think it’s both. I think we can’t control the person we’re meant to love. That, by some miracle, we’re handed this person that complements us better than anyone else. But I also think it’s our choice on whether or not we pick them. Maybe we aren’t willing to stand the test of time and wait for our person, so we don’t pick them and settle for someone else. Or maybe we do pick them and we live out the rest of our lives together. I think that’s what makes love so special. It’s a person choosing you over and over again.” 

Isn’t that what we all want? To feel chosen?

“And what if we make the wrong decision? What if we’ve met who we’re supposed to love, but we chose to love another?” His eyes were searching within mine for the words that I wasn’t saying out loud. Out of fear that my eyes might expose me to Spencer, I looked away. 

“I think -”

Spencer cut me off. “Look at me.” 

My head didn’t move, but I shifted my gaze just as he wanted.

“When two people are meant to be, nothing and no one can end them. They may get lost a time or two on their journey, but true, real love will always conquer. Nothing can compete with them. Others can only attempt to fill a void. And eventually, the two will be reunited. That’s the beauty of true love; you always end up with the right person, at the right time, regardless of any other factor.” 

Quiet fell upon us two after I said my piece. My breathing slowed down and the knot in my stomach came undone. The lump in my throat disappeared. 

All my bodily barriers broke down. There were no more emotional walls up between the two of us anymore. I was completely vulnerable - nothing to hide me. Not even my eyelids could hide the windows of my soul. Spencer had already seen into them. 

He saw my soul, my secrets. 

“Dance with me.” He extended his hand in the air between us two. With no hesitation, I accepted his offer and followed his lead. He’d never danced so naturally before. Somehow, his stiffness had withered away. The thick tension that used to loom in the air above us two dissipated. Something new replaced the contents of the atmosphere. 

Love. 

Unbounded. 

Unrestrained. 

Unbridled. 

Limitless love. 

Spencer drew me in closer so my head could lay on his chest. Previously, I was looking at his face, but now the view was of our connected hands. My fingers were intertwined with his, and I didn’t even notice how his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of my hand until I saw it with my own eyes. 

Had he always done that, but I couldn’t feel it until I saw it for myself? If so, what else had he been doing that I couldn’t feel?

“Loving you.” 

I removed my head from his shoulder after hearing him answer the question that I pondered silently, wondering if suddenly just acquired the superpower of telepathy.

“What?”

“Loving you. That’s all I know how to do by heart.” 

A wave of relief came over me when I realized he hadn’t read my mind, he was just simply adding to our conversation from before. 

“That’s not true,” I mirthlessly chuckled. “There’s lots you know how to do. You know thousands of chess permutations, you know how to geographically profile - you know how to dance now.” I countered playfully.

He shook his head. “I know how to do those things, but sometimes, none of it makes sense. I used to lose matches against Gideon, sometimes the comfort zone is inaccurate, and until today, I couldn’t dance very well,” He chortled. “But loving you. That always made sense. It never failed me or disappointed me and it’s so all-consuming that if I try to love anyone else - it just doesn’t make sense.”

Of all the words in my vocabulary, each of them were failing me. I was rendered speechless. Spencer cleared his throat and looked away for a moment, before finding the nerve to say it. 

“I choose you.” He proclaimed. 

So, I was right. 

There are some things we know by heart. 

Lyrics to our favorite song.

A recipe. 

How to dance . . . how to love.

And who to choose. 

“I choose you, too, Spencer.” 

. . . So to answer my question from before, is life really that magical? . . . 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*