#or destroy the pieces i entered even though i spent so much time and effort on them

[i-got-poisenality]

*lying on my back in a corner holding a can of soda like a beer in one hand and a lollipop like a cigarette in the other*

*washed up uncle tone of voice* “this, kids, is why we don’t equate what we make to our self worth, because we feel worthless”

[crystallinestars]

Winter and Christmas HCs

Little HCs on how Kaveh, Alhaitham, Albedo, and Childe spend the Christmas season with you. I might make a part 2 with other boys if people like this.

(Apologies is anything sounds a bit weird. I wrote this while running a fever, so I can't tell if something sounds off)

Kaveh

🍷 Likes the Christmas season because it gives him an excuse to decorate your house and make it look beautiful. Kaveh enjoys decorating the house and Christmas tree together with you because, to him, it's a bonding activity where your hard work can result in something beautiful, which greatly appeals to him.

He goes all out hanging garlands, lights, and paper snowflakes inside your home and also sets up miniature Christmas trees both indoors and outdoors. He pays careful attention to both the exterior and interior of the home, bedecking it with so many decorations that you don’t know how you’ll store all of it once Spring arrives. Helping him set everything up takes a majority of the day, but you have to admit that Kaveh has a good eye for aesthetics because your house looks like something out of a fairy tale.

Kaveh will shower you with praises once you finish setting everything up, but he expects you to compliment his efforts in return. He simply wants recognition for his work, and he values your opinion on whether or not you genuinely like how he decorated the house.

🍷 Is full of Christmas spirit. Gives to charities, goes window shopping with you, and gushes to you about all the beautiful scenery you can find around shops during this time of year. He also enjoys going on short walks with you to admire the winter landscape even if he complains about the cold later. He’s absolutely enamored with how magical this time of year feels.

🍷 He is a master at building gingerbread houses. Rather than buying a kit from the store, Kaveh opts to design and bake his own. Building a gingerbread house is in some ways similar to his work as an architect, so designing one costs him very little effort. Baking isn’t Kaveh’s strongest suit though he’s decent at it, but if you are a better baker than him, the architect will greatly appreciate your help in making the dough for him. Getting all the necessary materials, Kaveh spends hours painstakingly cutting pieces of the house and baking them in the oven.

You don’t interfere with his creative process, knowing that your craftsmanship is nowhere near as precise as his, and your help would most likely result in Kaveh needing to fix your mistakes. Instead, you keep him company while he assembles the gingerbread house, chatting with him and getting him to take breaks to eat because he tends to get too wrapped up in his work. Kaveh won’t tell you, but he genuinely appreciates your company because it makes him less lonely.

The gingerbread house takes a few days to construct, but the final result is well worth the effort. The house looks magical. For a house made out of candy, it looks surprisingly realistic and grand, and it makes you feel guilty at the mere thought of eating and destroying such a delicate work of art. If you look closer, you’ll notice two little gingerbread people holding hands next to the entrance of the house. One looks like Kaveh while the other resembles you.

🍷 Kaveh is also a master at making snowmen. I’m sorry, but his snowmen will blow yours out of the water. He doesn’t settle for simply stacking three spheres together, jamming some sticks and a carrot, and then calling it a day. No, Kaveh spends hours collecting snow and constructing a beautiful snow sculpture that could honestly win a contest if he chose to enter one.

Out of all the ones he makes, his favorite one is of you. He spent way too much time making your sculpture as accurate to the real you as he could, and even added some artistic flourish (flowers, extravagant clothing, accessories etc) to enhance your beauty. His sculptures draw the attention of many passersby, especially children. Will probably get roped into teaching children how to make these sculptures because the little kids want to learn how to make them too.

🍷 He catches colds easily. If he sees you without a hat or scarf, he will take off his own scarf/hat and put it on you while scolding you for not dressing warmly because you could catch a cold. He also gives you his gloves if you don’t have any on you, and is prepared to give you the clothes on his back if you’re still cold. He ends up catching a cold himself instead. Kaveh feels embarrassed by this turn of events and won’t let you care for him at first, but please nurse him back to health. He’s not great at taking care of his health and will almost cry from how loved he feels if you take care of him when he’s at his most vulnerable.

🍷 Is too broke to afford the presents he wants to give you and his friends. Despite his efforts to save up money for Christmas shopping, it’s still not enough, so he makes your present himself. He’s very nifty with his hands so he makes you a little trinket or gadget that both looks pretty and serves a practical purpose that you can make use of in your daily life.

🍷 Likes trying out limited-time Christmas teas and hot chocolates with you to determine which ones taste the best so he can give some to his friends as gifts. Also enjoys making Christmas-themed latte art for you and is very good at it.

Alhaitham

🎧 Doesn’t decorate the house because he can’t be bothered and sees it as a meaningless endeavor. If you want to decorate it, he won’t stop you, though don’t expect him to help (so he tells you). However, if you ask him to help you put up a decoration someplace that’s too high for you to reach, he’ll sigh and come over and do as you ask. For all his indifference towards the holiday season and all it entails, Alhaitham has a soft spot for you and will still help you if it makes you happy. Unfortunately, his nature simply doesn’t allow him to resist the urge to provide critique on the placement of certain decorations if he thinks they’re in a bad spot.

🎧 Has practically zero Christmas spirit. He doesn’t want to build snowmen, won’t bother with gingerbread houses, won’t even look in the direction of all the Christmas-themed mugs/candles/clothes/other junk that serves very little purpose. He knows it’s all just a corporate scheme to get money out of people, however, he actively uses any mugs or sweaters you give to him as a gift. He may say there was no need for you to do any of this, but he does treasure the things you give him and takes better care of them than most other things in his house.

🎧 Among all Christmas-related activities, Alhaitham enjoys reading with you by the fireplace the most. The fire provides enough light for him to read comfortably, and snuggling with you under a warm blanket on the couch while listening to the crackle of the logs creates a nice ambiance that he enjoys. Bonus points if you have a mug of tea or coffee somewhere nearby for the two of you to enjoy while you read.

🎧 He’s not the most creative when it comes to giving gifts. He’s the type to not know what to give someone if the person already has everything they need, so he relies on you to help him shop for presents. It’s easier to fight the crowds with two people instead of one when it comes to getting items before they’re all snatched up, plus leaving the responsibility of picking presents to you absolves him of the need to worry about what to get his friends. Don’t worry, Alhaitham will assist you with the decision-making process by providing his two cents about each gift you pick until you both settle on something you think is good.

He hates shopping during this season because of how loud and crowded it gets, so Alhaitham develops a tendency to hold your hand so you won’t get separated in the throng of people.

Like the slacker he is, Alhaitham also relies on you to wrap up the presents because his initial decision is to simply place them in a bag and call it a day. He’s just not into arts and crafts.

🎧 If Haitham notices you rubbing your hands together from the cold, he will take one of your hands in his and place them in the pocket of his jacket to keep them warm.

🎧 Has a sharp eye and quickly notices if you own worn-out winter clothes or don’t have things like hats, scarves, or gloves. He’ll buy you a high-quality version to replace it, sparing no expense at getting you something durable that will last a long time while also keeping you warm. It’s worth the money, in his opinion. Since he believes in giving practical gifts, expect a brand-new winter jacket/boots/gloves to be given to you as a present from him. That, or a book on your hobbies.

Albedo

🧪 Doesn’t fully understand the hype behind Christmas but joins in on the festivities for the sake of garnering new experiences and trying to determine what people like about it so much. He does end up liking the holiday and winter season in general, albeit not for personal reasons. He finds it adorable to watch Klee and you enjoy the snow, build gingerbread houses, and build snowmen together. He helps to improve your gingerbread house/snowman making by giving a few pointers here and there but otherwise lets you two make them how you want. Albedo finds value in other people’s ideas and thus wants you to have the freedom to express yourselves how you like.

🧪 Wants to try Christmas-related activities, one of which is kissing under a mistletoe. He finds the concept amusing but first makes sure you are on board with the idea. If you are, expect mistletoe to appear in your shared home one day. It’ll be hung above the dining table, the main entrance, and above his work desk. His goal is to get kisses from you before you share a meal together, when you leave or enter your home, and when you bring him tea when he’s working at his desk. Albedo loves it if you become flustered when spotting the mistletoe at first. Your bashful expression gets a soft chuckle out of him before he leans in for a kiss.

🧪 Albedo likes the winter landscape. There’s something so pristine about the white snow blanketing the world and muting all sound. He spends quite a bit of his free time painting the winter landscapes. Once in a while, purely for fun, he makes a painting of you and Klee playing in the snow. The memory of watching you two building Jumpy Dumpty out of snow still makes him smile.

🧪 One of his favorite Christmas-related activities to do with you is trying to concoct Christmas-flavored teas and sweets. He experiments with classic flavors like peppermint, gingerbread, cinnamon, and eggnog among others, and tries to come up with unique flavors by combining several of them. You tend to be his guinea pig during these experiments, and while a few of the results end up being misses, the majority you actually end up liking. It becomes a tradition for Albedo to make you your favorite blend of tea or cookie recipe of his own creation during this season.

🧪 Makes your present himself. As an alchemist, he can make a lot of unusual and unique things, but he settles for more simple things like creating a body wash with a scent you like and that also works wonders for your skin, or giving you a rare plant if you’re into botany, or specially designed gloves that keep your fingers warm no matter how cold it gets. The presents he makes aren’t anything extravagant, but they’re chosen with thought and care. Albedo also helps Klee make a fancy card to give you for Christmas and helps her make a present for you too which ends up being a Jumpy Dumpty plush similar to her own.

🧪 If Albedo notices you’re cold, he’ll give you some of his own clothes to try and keep you warm, such as wrapping his scarf around your neck or giving you his hat. He’ll gently remind you to dress warmer for the winter weather. If you still end up getting sick, he’ll take care of you until you’re all better.

Childe

🐋 Having grown up in a snowy country, Childe is used to dealing with a variety of problems that snow can bring, and even has a fondness for it because it reminds him of his home and family. He enjoys going on walks to admire the winter scenery and gets you to tag along with him. He tells you lots of stories of how he and his siblings used to play in the snow and the shenanigans they got up to.

If you’re the type to get cold easily, Childe will readily give you his winter clothes to warm you up. The cold doesn’t bother him as much as it does you, plus he rarely gets sick, so he can get away with losing a few pieces of clothes to give you. Not that you’re complaining. His winter clothes keep you warm better than anything you ever owned, plus they smelled like him in a comforting sort of way.

🐋 Loves to engage in snowball fights with his siblings, and moreso when you join in on the fun. Him and you getting chased by his three younger siblings who toss snowballs at you. Though the children are a bit clumsy and rarely hit either you or him, Childe still lets them win the game on purpose so the little ones can feel good about themselves. He only asks that you play along and let his siblings win, and feels a surge of love towards you when you do.

Childe likes playing in the snow with his siblings in general. Making snow angels, building funny-looking snowmen, and constructing snow forts are just some of the things they all do together as a family. His siblings like to include you in their activities and try to make you feel like a part of their group.

🐋 Childe likes to bring you along on his ice fishing trips if it’s something that you’re interested in doing with him. He’ll teach you all about cutting through the ice, how to operate a fishing rod, and what to look for while fishing. Though he tends to ice fish alone so he has some quiet time to reflect on himself, he also likes fishing together with you as a bonding activity. He doesn’t make fun of you if you fail to reel in a catch, simply giving you some pointers on what you can do to improve your chances next time.

🐋 To Childe, Christmas means spending time with family. Every year, he always makes an effort to celebrate the holiday together with his family, and after getting into a relationship with him, you become a part of his family celebrations, as well. His family welcomes you with open arms and teaches you about their culture’s unique customs and dishes when it comes to celebrating the holiday. You are urged to try new dishes, participate in festive activities, and help convince the children that Santa is real when their father comes in dressed in the costume of one. Even if you feel a bit awkward about celebrating together with his family, Childe appreciates you a lot for taking the chance. To him, three things are most important in his life: self-improvement, his family, and you. Seeing you get along ith his family makes him really happy.

🐋 His main goal when choosing presents is picking something you’ll like. The secondary goal is picking something that will impress you. As such, he doesn’t limit himself when buying you a gift. If you’re into clothing, he’ll buy you a ton of high-quality, high-end fashion that costs a crazy amount of money. If you’re more into artsy interests, he’ll buy you the most expensive art tools and supplies on the market so your art won’t be limited by money. If you like sports, he buys all kinds of fancy gadgets to make working out easier for you. He buys the best that his money can afford without really questioning it because he believes you deserve only the best.

🐋 Mistletoe isn’t a part of his culture, but he finds the idea of it quite fun. He definitely wants to try it with you and will go as far as carrying a branch of it in his pocket and whipping it out to hold above your heads whenever he wants a kiss from you. Kissing whenever you two accidentally meet under a mistletoe is all well and good, but he thinks it’s more fun to get kisses out of you this way whenever he wants. You might have to snatch the mistletoe away from him because he can get too carried away with constantly pestering you for more kisses. He just can’t get enough of your lips.

[dabilove27]

Autumnal

Paring: Aizawa Shouta x Fem!Reader

Rating: T? (there's like one cuss word, I am still an 18+ blog, MDNI)

Warnings: None! If there is anything I'm missing please let me know! Both characters are at least 21+

Word Count: 0.5k

A/N: Hello! This is a small drabble for the season! The prompt came from this post! Thank you so much to @gixxie and @lady-lunaaa for beta reading so long ago and lifting me up with all your comments I adore you both!!

Yellow strips of nylon lay scattered across the bedroom floor as you curse under your breath. You had burnt your finger with the hot glue gun for the hundredth time that evening. You'd think you would have learned by now not to test the glue with your finger, but you hadn't.

Although, it could be the stress of making this project look perfect. You really really wanted it to look just like him. You'd spent two hours tracing and drawing in black tufts of hair, dark eyes with dark bags below, little pieces of stubble, and your boyfriend's scowl onto a pale white pumpkin. And now the stupid nylon was refusing to stick as you wrapped it around the pumpkin strategically. 

The idea had popped into your head after seeing the perfect Aizawa-looking pumpkin at the supermarket that morning. You knew he'd roll his eyes at it once you were done. But you also knew how much he loved seeing you explore your crafts. And even though he would joke around, you loved how he would still indulge you in exploring what you loved. 

The Autumnal days brought out a creative side in you that seemed dead during the rest of the year. And for fuck's sake, all you wanted to do was make a cute little pumpkin that resembled your boyfriend. With an exasperated sigh, you leaned back against the bed, willing the headache that was coming on to disappear. What was the point? He might hate it anyways, so why are you putting in so much effort?

You were so caught up in your self-defeating thoughts that you missed Aizawa's near-silent footsteps as he entered the apartment. You lost track of time because of the stupid glue gun and nylon mishaps. 

"Did you destroy my sleeping bag?" A deep voice came from the doorway, causing you to startle with a sharp intake of breath. 

"Fuck! You scared me!" You yelped as you tried to get your heartbeat to slow. "Wait, no! Don't look; it's a surprise!" Shame and sadness filled you. This was supposed to be a cute surprise, and now all Shouta was seeing was a half-decorated pumpkin and a mess of nylon spread across the floor.

Aizawa ignored your pleas. Instead, he quirked an eyebrow at your outburst. "Are you gluing my sleeping bag to that pumpkin?" His eyes gestured to the sad-looking winter squash in front of you. 

"It's not...Ok, maybe it is what it looks like," you finally gave up in defeat. "I just wanted to make a cute pumpkin like you." You lowered your head and refused to see his disappointment. You'd put in hours for a stupid pumpkin that didn't turn out.

But instead of a sound of annoyance, you heard a soft chuckle from the man at the doorway as he made his way over to you. Shouta knelt down next to you, slipping his hand under your chin and lifting it up so that you looked at him. "You're so cute, you know that? Let me see if I can help," he replied gently, kissing your lips.      

Thank you for reading!

[raineydays411]

Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be  making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

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

The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head. 

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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

Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved. 

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course  he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why? 

Because she has her mothers eyes.

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

“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming. 

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother. 

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well.  He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair. 

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months. 

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him. 

“My lord, you--” 

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth. 

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there. 

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--” 

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

***  “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter  reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?” 

“Love”  ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes. 

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of. 

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence. 

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?” 

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?” 

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting. 

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine. 

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.” 

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table. 

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!”  Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,” 

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it.  He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him. 

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part. 

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times  prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound. 

Thor walks up to him with the baby. 

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child. 

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well. 

No, this was not his child. Not anymore. 

“Get rid of it.” 

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga. 

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.” 

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind  his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love, War, and Books by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 2/3

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapter 2: Poetry and Mean Spiritedness

Emma stood in the middle of a near empty store, she sighed, stringing up the lights around the small tree in the corner of the reading area. She gazed around at the few children and their parents looking around at the books before leaving without spending a dime. Jones Books had opened at the beginning of the week and sadly had affected the customer turnout for the week.

While it was upsetting, Emma was trying to stay positive, determined that business would pick up once the shine of the new bookstore wore off and the children begged their parents to return to the store that spent time and effort to bring the stories to life that they had known and loved.

“This bloody sucks!” Will complained as he closed the register for the evening.

“We’ll be out of business before the end of the month at this rate.” Ruby whispered in his direction.

“No one is going out of business.” Emma assured, patting Ruby on the back. “It will pick up after they get tired of the terrible customer service they are getting at Jones crappy bookstore.”

“I hope so because I have rent due on the 5th.”

“Please, you’re still living in a place with rent control. I’ll be out on the streets with the amount they rip from my hands each month across town.”

“No one is going to be out on the streets. Think positive. We’ll be fine.” Emma tried to calm the nervousness in the room.

“It’s like working in a tomb here.” Will moaned.

“Wow Will, way to be positive.” Ruby teased with a groan.

He shrugged and Emma skipped away from them, trying to ignore the negative concerns from her employees. She wasn’t going to be put out of business from Jones Books!

When she arrived home that evening, her positive attitude was threatening to wane on her. The store had barely made enough money to be in the black that evening, she stepped in a puddle before entering their apartment, and the zipper in the dress she wanted to wear to the dinner this evening snagged and broke as soon as she put it on.

Groaning she sat down at her laptop as she waited for August to get done with his shower. She read the message from JR10 and her smile returned momentarily.

Lonelygirl: I find that sometimes you are the one person I want to talk to at the end of a difficult day. Is that weird? If it is, just skip over that part. I pride myself in being a positive person, but lately I’m finding it harder to find that little piece of joy before I get swallowed into a black hole of sadness. I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for being that little piece of joy I needed tonight.

She closed her laptop as August emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. “I thought you were getting dressed?”

“My zipper broke.” She frowned, holding up the dress in front of her.

“So, wear that one with the flowers.”

“I hate that dress.”

“So, wear the plaid one or the one with stripes. Or the red one is nice.” He paused, looking at her closet. “Any of these is fine.”

“Yeah ok, the red one is good.”

An hour later they were in the elevator and heading to the penthouse for a publication party. They were generally dry and boring but a great opportunity to meet other writers, artists, and people in the book business.

“Maybe you can find some people to assist you in your plight tonight.”

“My plight? And what would that be?” She waited on an answer from August.

“From Jones Books, if things got tough perhaps you could find an ally to help rally support.”

“It’s not going to get to that. My store is doing just fine.” Emma replied angrily.

“I know, I don’t know why I said that, of course it’s fine.”

“There’s enough business for more than one bookstore. We’re fine.”

He kissed her cheek. “You’re more than fine, you’re absolutely fine.”

“Yeah, exactly, we’re fine.” She repeated as they stepped into the party at the top of the building unsure if she was trying to convince August or herself of the state of her business.

~*~

Killian and Milah had arrived early to the party, a friend of the family who was hosting a publishing event had invited them to join them that evening. His father told him more than once that these events were the perfect time to rub elbows with people in the book business. Free advertising, he used to tell him.

“Oh, I can’t believe that August Booth is here. I listen to him on the way to work, he is so inspiring.” Killian nodded without actually paying attention as he scanned the room, his eyes settling on a familiar face in the back corner.

Emma Swan.

His eyes grew big, and he leaned over to speak into Milah’s ear. “I’m going to get a drink.” She nodded and he slipped out of view of the woman from his rival bookstore before she could turn in his direction.

“Havana Club Rum, neat.” He gave his order to the bartender, glancing around the room to find Milah.

“Malibu and Cranberry.” He recognized her voice before he turned toward her. When he did she smiled, and her eyes grew wide. “Hey! Remember me? From the bookstore?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I remember you.”

“How’s your brother?”

“He’s good, really good.” He grabbed his drink and held it up in front of him. “I have to get back to my date, very thirsty, would hate to see her wither from dehydration.” He joked.

“You’re Killian right?” She continued and he felt the sweat start to gather at the back of his neck.

“Yes, and you’re Emma.” He said with a smile before ducking into the crowd to escape.

~*~

Emma sipped her drink as she made her way back over to August, sliding up beside him as his conversation ended.

“I can’t believe you were talking to Killian Jones.”

Emma turned toward him, “Jones, as in…”

“Jones Books.” He nodded but Emma was already making her way across the room toward the man standing at the food table.

“Jones, your name is Killian Jones?”

“Last I checked, Aye.” He shrugged, turning back to the food, and filling his plate.

“You were spying on me!” She declared loudly. “You probably don’t even have a brother.”

“You wound me Swan. Of course I have a brother. Why exactly do you think I would spy on you?” He said as if he didn’t have a care in the world who she was, which angered her even more.

“I’m your competition, which you already know or else you wouldn’t have played that little charade in my store.” She had her hands on her hips, chewing angrily on her bottom lip.

“Competition?” He said with an annoying laugh that made her blood boil. “The only reason I came into your store was because I was spending the day with my brother. I like to buy him gifts when I take him out because honestly I have no idea how else to keep his attention. At the time there was only one place in the neighborhood to buy children’s books, though as I am sure you are aware of now, all of that has changed.” He shrugged, “So I ended up in your store, and it is a charming littlestore. You probably sell $250,000 worth of books a year…”

Her eyes widened as she stepped toward him. “How did you know that?”

“I’m in the book business, obviously.” He said arrogantly.

“No, I’m in the book business, you are simply the Costco of books.”

“Ah I see, and so you think that I needed to sneak into your tiny bookstore and steal your financial ledger because I’m afraid you’ll put me out of business? Give me a break, love.” He snorted and Emma felt flustered, angry, but frozen in place.

“What?” He asked as he watched her standing in front of him, mouth agape, saying nothing.

“Killian Jones, corporate scum, destroyer of small-time virtues, enemy of the hardback novel, how do you sleep at night?” August joined her at her side and Emma forced herself to close her mouth as she stared between them.

“I sleep wonderful at night, mostly from the pills though.” A woman interrupted and jabbed her hand toward August. “You’re August Booth, aren’t you?” she paused. “I’m Milah Gold. And I loved your podcast last week about how Amazon is taking over the world.” She turned toward Killian. “This man is a literal genius.” Emma narrowed her eyes at the woman.

“Wow thank you; you have no idea how much that means coming from someone as talented as you. So often I wake up and worry that people will think I’m a fraud or a failure. But this…this is truly inspiring.” August seemed to suck the air out of the room as he continued to praise the woman standing next to her enemy.

“We need to talk more. Have you ever considered writing a book?” The woman continued and August began to shift excitedly on the balls of his feet. Emma stood stoically as her eyes made contact with the man who was trying to destroy her business. He held her gaze, not wavering from the contact until she shifted her eyes back to her boyfriend. She breathed a sigh of relief when Killian and the woman excused themselves from the conversation.

Emma couldn’t concentrate the rest of the evening. Why did she say nothing when he provoked her? Instead of standing up for herself she froze, completely shut down.

“I really liked that Milah Gold. Sure, I know she’s completely driven by money, but anyone who listens to my podcast can always be turned around.”

Emma rolled her eyes, tossing down onto her pillow and staring at the ceiling while he continued to ramble on and on about the evening.

~*~

“I can’t believe we met August Booth. He’s so interesting, don’t you think he’s interesting?” He turned over in his bed, staring at the floor. “His ideas are just so ahead of his time. No one is saying the things he’s saying.”

Killian flipped the covers off his body and stood from the bed. He was feeling uneasy, angry, guilty. Why was he feeling guilty?

“Where are you going?”

“Bloody hell woman, I’m just not tired.”

JR10: Have you ever woken up and realized that you have become the worst part of yourself? Like when someone provokes you, every arrogant, self-absorbed, condescending piece of your personality comes springing to life and attacks. Who am I kidding, you wouldn’t know what that is like? I’m the dark asshole here.

He stared at his screen, almost needing to talk to her, hoping that she was online. His heart soared when it showed she was typing.

Lonelygirl: I completely understand. I’m honestly jealous, I wish I had that in me. When I’m provoked, I freeze like a fish gulping for air, only to spend the rest of the night tossing in bed trying to think of things I should have said instead.

He laughed; he couldn’t believe how opposite they were. She was a breath of fresh air.

JR10: Perhaps I could lend you some of my retorts and you could give me your silence. Though I must warn you, when you finally provide that perfect response that digs into the subject of your attack, you will learn a new trait. Remorse.

He paused, staring at his screen, and thinking about doing something really stupid. Or possibly brilliant. He wasn’t sure which it was.

JR10: Do you think we should meet?

He hovered over the enter button, did he really think it was a good idea to meet this woman? Before he could change his mind he punched the button sending the message and closing the lid of his computer.

~*~

“He wants to meet you?” Emma groaned and leaned against the counter, Ruby staring at her from her spot in front of the shelves. “What did you tell him?”

“I wasn’t going to answer him on an empty stomach. So, I made breakfast and then chickened out and ran straight to work.”

“That’ll show him.” Will joked as he nudged her with his shoulder. “Left him on read.”

“Oh stop.” Emma whined. “I’ll answer him, later.” She sighed, walking back to her office, and staring at her invoices. Sales were down by 30% since Jones books had opened. She was never going to survive at this rate. She needed to do something drastic.

“It’s a shame you don’t know anyone with a voice to the public. Someone who knows how to tug at the heartstrings of America’s bleeding heart.”

Emma looked up to see Mrs. Lucas entering the room. “You aren’t suggesting…”

“That man candy of yours.”

“Don’t call him that.” Emma scrunched her nose and shuffled the papers in front of her.

“Come on, he’s nice on the eyes that man of yours.”

“I guess.”

“If you can only guess, then maybe you’re looking up a different tree.”

Emma’s mouth dropped, “Grans! That’s completely inappropriate.”

The woman shrugged and left the room. “I’ll take him if you’re done with him.” She hollered back as she left.

Emma was being completely unfair to August, there was no way she should meet this JR10. Things were perfect just the way they were. She loved August, he was good to her, and all she was doing was having a conversation with a computer screen.

That’s all.

Nothing more.

As soon as she got home she opened her laptop, determined that this was the right decision.

Lonleygirl: I don’t think we should meet. Why would we ruin what we have? I enjoy talking to you, you enjoy talking to me, why mess with that? Please don’t ask again.

~*~

Killian sat with his dog in his lap and his laptop sitting beside him as he read the incoming message.

“Good job Jones, you scared her.” He patted the dog’s head. “I’m officially an idiot.”

He slammed the laptop shut, unsure how to reply to the woman.

The days went by in a flurry as the store picked up steam. Every time he walked through the expansive store, it was buzzing with customers, passing over credit cards, picking up bundles of books at an affordable rate. He was saving them money, he was a goddamn hero, he thought.

But as he was standing in the checkout line at the grocery store, waiting for any sign of movement in the past ten minutes, his sour mood was making him feel anything like a hero.

“Can you believe this woman?” The man in front of him complained to his wife. “She’s trying to pay with a credit card in the cash only line.”

Killian leaned to the side, trying to see who was causing the delay when he spotted the golden hair, angry face, and an ass that would make any man’s groin twitch. He laughed, cursing his luck, but stepping forward toward her anyway.

“Do you need cash?”

She turned toward him and groaned. “Definitely not, thank you.” She growled.

“Hi, Ashley.” He smiled at the cashier. “This is Emma, I’m Killian. This is a credit card machine, is it not, Lass?” The woman stared at him, nodding with her mouth agape. “It’s the night before Thanksgiving, people are hungry, tired, and I’m sure you would prefer everyone go home so that you can get off your shift, am I right?”

The woman smiled. “It’s cash only.”

“But you have the ability to run it through. Zip zip.” He said as he pretended to push the card through the machine.

The woman took the card and groaned, “Fine.” She said as she ran it through the machine.

“Everything good now?”

“Just great.” Emma replied rolling her eyes.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” He said with a fake smile, turning his back and inserting himself into the line to a swell of cheers and pats on the back.

~*~

Emma found that she was running into Killian everywhere she went to her utter dismay. Suddenly he was at her coffee shop, grocery store, and even the gas station. When he pulled up on his stupid motorcycle she wanted to comment about how he must be overcompensating for something, but that would mean having to speak to him. So instead, she found herself hiding anytime he showed up. Sure, it was ridiculous, but she just didn’t want to face him again after the credit card incident.

As much as seeing Killian was causing her sour mood, she knew that wasn’t the only reason. She hadn’t heard back from JR10 since she told him she didn’t want to meet him. She supposed it was for the best, she never intended for it to go anywhere in the first place.

But everything seemed to be going wrong lately. Killian, JR10, her store. Emma wanted to feel happy, especially during the holidays, but instead she just felt depressed.

She stood at the store display window, watching the children walk by with their parents, snow falling softly in the background, and normally this would bring her all the joy she needed to keep from missing her mom during the holidays. Instead, the little yellow “Jones Books” bags in the hands of the happy children only brought her sadness.

When she got home, she did the one thing that had made her happy recently. She ignored the awkward feelings, sat down with her cocoa, and opened her laptop to message JR10.

Lonelygirl: I miss my mom. The holidays aren’t the same without her. I don’t think I ever told you, but my mom passed ten years ago. Fuck cancer. She always made the holidays special and I’m just really feeling down this year and I guess nothing feels special anymore because nothing is going right in my life anymore and I could really use her advice.

She got up and stood by her window, tears falling onto her cheeks. She laughed as she watched the snow falling. “Suddenly I’m a mess, mom. I miss you.”

A sound alerted her to a new message, and she wiped her face, slowly taking a seat in front of the screen.

JR10: My mother passed when I was 4. Holidays are always difficult. It was a car accident that took her, my father never really knew what to do with two young boys. Intimacy wasn’t exactly his thing. I miss her most around Christmas. She loved the snow. I don’t remember much about her, but I remember that she looked like an angel in the snow. What kind of advice do you need? Maybe I can help.

Emma smiled, happy that he had responded so quickly and didn’t mention anything about the previous awkwardness of her declining to meet him.

Lonelygirl: I don’t think you can help me.

JR10: Is it man trouble?

Lonelygirl: No definitely not. My business is in trouble.

JR10: I’m a great businessman, what kind of business do you have?

Lonelygirl: That’s rule #2 remember! No specifics.

JR10: Well, it’s going to be difficult to help without specifics, but I guess the best advice I can give you is that nothing in business is personal. It’s not personal, it’s business. Don’t go down without a fight. A man, or therefore woman, unwilling to fight for what they want, deserve what they get. You told me that you worried about not being brave in life. This is your chance. Fight to the death.

Emma closed her laptop and looked in the mirror. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” She said louder as August walked into the room.

“What’s not personal?”

“Jones Books.” She announced. “I’m going to war. And I want you to help me fight them.” August walked over and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around.

“There’s my girl. Let’s take it to the man.”

~*~

“You are what you read, save your soul, boycott Jones Books.” Killian glared at the poster attached to the window of his store. Ripping it from the glass he stormed into the store, marching to the back and into Belle’s office. “What is this crap?”

“They’re all over the streets, I’m finding them on the back of the registers, on my car. That little bookstore that none of you cared about, means business. Did you know they got that podcaster, August Booth to devote an entire hour of his next show comparing us to sharks that attack children on the beach?”

“Of course she did, I believe she’s dating the man.”

“Who is?”

“Emma, the owner of Golden Swan Books.”

“You know her?”

“Might have met her once.”

“Oh God.” Belle recoiled and reached for her remote on her desk, turning the volume up on the television above their head.

“I’m here with Emma Swan, owner of the quaint children’s bookstore Golden Swan Books. The store is struggling to remain open under the constant attack of the new super store Jones Books that opened down the block. Emma how are you?”

“Thank you for having me, you know I just want to say that Jones Books may have cheap books and wonderful coffee selections, but most of their employees have never even read a book in their life.”

Killian groaned. “She’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Is she now?” Bell mused. “I’m sure she’s not nearly as beautiful in person as she is on television.” She smirked.

“Oh no, she’s gorgeous, but a bloody pain in the ass.”

“You don’t feel bad that you are basically destroying her livelihood?”

“It’s not personal…”

“It’s business.” She finished for him.

“Besides, I’m not physically doing this, it’s the company. I’m not this big bad guy here. I’m just doing my job.” He complained. “I sell discounted books. So, sue me. Because of me, more people get to…OH MY GOD…buy books.” He dramatically paced the office, his hands flailing as Belle looked on with a smile. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged, looking back down at her computer.

When Killian left the store an hour later it was to a line of people holding signs and screaming in his face. “One, two, three, four, we don’t want this superstore.”

~*~

Emma stared at the papers in front of her. “Wait, so it made no difference at all?”

“Sorry, dear, doesn’t look like it. In fact, we’ve lost more this month than we did the previous three before their store even opened.”

Emma exhaled loudly. “So, we lost?” Her shoulders hunched and she felt the air inside of her deflate. “What would mom do?”

“I don’t know, dear, but the store looks lovely.”

Emma smiled weakly as the woman left the office, slumping against her desk, she cried softly. She walked home in the rain, not even bothering to shield herself from the conditions. By the time she reached her apartment her clothes were soaked to her skin, her hair dripping onto the tile floor, and her tears were drowned by the moisture.

Sinking down at her desk, she opened her laptop and typed.

Lonleygirl: I need help. Do you still want to meet?

Emma tapped her nails on the keyboard, waiting anxiously for a reply. It didn’t take long for her to get one.

JR10: I’m happy to help. Do you know the Diner on 83rd? Friday, 7pm?

“Wait, you’re meeting him?” Ruby gaped.

“Like in person? That’s bloody dangerous, Emma.” Will scolded.

“You both are being ridiculous. We’re meeting in a public place. It’s fine.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned toward the older woman in the room. “Tell them Grans.”

“There are worse ways to meet men.” She laughed.

“Did you tell August?” Ruby inquired.

“No.” She said as she lowered her head. “He’s out of town this weekend. Some podcast convention in Los Angeles.”

“Aye, so that makes it alright to meet strange men you’ve been chattin’ with online?”

“I’m not going to stay long; we’re just eating food. That’s all.” She protested as Will made a gesture that indicated a sexual act. Emma groaned and punched him in the shoulder. “You’re disgusting. It’s just dinner. That’s all. 45 mins, an hour, tops.”

~*~

“I’m not even going to stay that long.” Killian protested as he and Belle walked the darkened streets.

“So how does this work? How are you going to know who she is?”

“She said she’ll have a book with a single rose.”

“A book, are you sure she doesn’t already know who you are?”

“It’s a common thing, from a book or something.” He mused and Belle rolled her eyes. “Do you think this is ridiculous, am I purposely trying to destroy a good thing with Milah?”

“Well, you do have a tendency to ruin things that could possibly lead to a future.” She laughed. “But I haven’t quite figured out why you and Milah are still together, honestly.”

“I love her.”

“Do you? Because I kinda think if you did, you wouldn’t be meeting up with random women you’ve been talking to online.”

Killian stopped walking and looked up at the door to the restaurant. “I can’t do this.” He started to turn away before spinning back toward the restaurant. “God, why do I need to meet this woman so badly that I can’t walk away?” He looked over at Belle. “Go look. Tell me if you can see her.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Killian. Do you want me to go in and have dinner with her too?”

“Only if she’s horrid.” He teased. “Please, Belle.” She climbed the stairs, peering through the window. “Do you see her?”

“Oh wow, she’s gorgeous.” Belle grinned. “Oh wait, no flower. Sorry.”

“Lass, this woman is a marvel. Even if she looks like her smiley face icon on discord, I may have no choice but to upend my life and marry her tomorrow.”

“Wait, I see a book.” Belle squealed, “And a flower…” She moved around the window. “The waiters in the way.” She peered again through the window. “Oh. Um…”

“What is it? Blonde, Brunette…is she a red head?”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Bloody hell, I knew it.” He yelped.

“Yeah, definitely. I would say she’s as beautiful as Emma Swan.”

“The bookstore woman?” He asked confused.

“You said she was attractive.”

“Why are we even talking about Emma Swan right now?”

“Because, if you don’t like Emma Swan, you’re definitely not going to like this woman.”

“Why not?” Killian growled.

“Because she is Emma Swan.” Killian ran up the stairs, pushing himself against Belle and peering into the restaurant.

“Bloody hell.” He watched as Emma sat at the table, a soft smile across her lips, adjusting the book and the flower on the table as she nervously watched the door. Killian sighed and turned away from the door, walking back to the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?” Belle said loudly. “You’re just gonna let her sit there alone?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“But she’s lonelygirl, you were desperate to know who she was just ten minutes ago.”

“Goodnight Belle.” He said sadly, walking back toward his apartment.

~*~

Emma stared anxiously at the door, inspecting every person who walked through the entrance. When a tall man entered, smiling at her as he turned the corner, she stood up to greet him only for another woman to rush toward him, pulling her into his arms. Emma sat down, feeling dejected, her stomach tied in knots from disappointment. She couldn’t believe JR10 stood her up.

Maybe he was too good to be true.

“Ma’am, do you want your check?”

“No, can I have another glass of wine, please.” The waiter smiled and nodded sadly at her.

“Excuse me Ma’am.” Emma looked up excitedly at a young man standing next to her table. Ok he was a little younger than she expected, but age didn’t matter, right? “Are you using this chair?”

Emma narrowed her eyes as he started to remove the other chair from her table. “Put it down.” She bit her lip. “Sorry, I’m using it, I have a date, he’s coming.” The man apologized and Emma hollered after him. “He’s late.” She groaned as the door swung open and she felt like everything was moving in slow motion until it came to a screeching halt.

Killian Jones. Are you fucking kidding me?

He walked past her table, and she saw him react when he recognized her. His hands traced her table before picking up her book and making a face. She grabbed it from his hands and placed it back on her table. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” He said, taking a seat across from her.

“I’m sorry, but that seat is taken.”

He looked around with an air of arrogance, “Is he invisible? Do you have an invisible friend now?” He stood and apologized to the chair.

“Would you please leave.”

He had the nerve to bow, which made her blood boil. But instead of walking away, he took the table behind her, sitting down and leaning closer to her. “You know I’ve read that book.”

Emma looked down at her book. “You’ve read Pride and Prejudice?”

“I think you’d find a lot of things surprising about me, if you actually knew me.”

Emma glared at him, “If I got to know you I bet I’d find a cash register instead of a brain and instead of a heart, a bottom line.” Her mouth dropped.

“What’s wrong?” He replied after seeing the look on her face.

“I just did something I’ve never been able to do before. When confronted by a terrible and insensitive person, I knew exactly what to say, exactly at the right time.”

“I must agree, congratulations, it was the perfect mixture of poetry and mean spiritedness.”

“Mean spirted? I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t be offended, I was paying you a compliment, lass.”

“Please leave, I beg you.” She said on the verge of tears.

She reached into her purse, pulling out her handkerchief and dabbing the corners of her eyes.

“You know what that reminds me of? The first time we met.” He said reverently.

“You mean the day you lied to me when you were spying on me.”

“Hey, I never lied to you.”

She snorted. “Yeah whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The door opened and they both turned toward the door. A short man with an angry face entered the room. “I’m going to venture a guess that this is not him either. Who could your mystery man be? Will you be mean to him too?”

“Of course I won’t because the man I’m meeting is nothing like you. He’s kind and sweet and a much better man than you.”

“Except that he’s stood you up, it’s bad form to leave a lady waiting.”

“If he’s not here, then he has a good reason. Because there isn’t a mean bone in his entire body. But you wouldn’t know that because you’re just a jerk in a leather jacket who thinks he’s better than everyone else.” She turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And that’s my cue to leave.” He said softly, in a voice that sounded almost disappointed. But Emma didn’t care, all she wanted was to be alone.

~*~

“Somewhere inside that hard exterior must be the same woman who writes to you online, maybe underneath it all she’s just…”

“A real bitch.” He replied to Belle. “Can we not talk about Emma Swan? I’m going back to the office.” He said with annoyance, walking out of the back office and slipping out of the store onto the street. He hated that this woman was still driving him mad. She was a thorn in his side, infuriating, and troublesome and yet all he could think about was the way she wrote to him, the way he waited anxiously just to see that message pop up on screen.

More than anything, he missed her.

~*~

“So, he stood you up?” Ruby said angrily.

“Or he got injured.” Emma interjected and Will laughed. “Seriously, what if he had an accident on the way to restaurant? What if he’s lying in a hospital bed right now?”

“What if he’s a bloody murderer and he was meeting up with you to kill you?”

“Will!” Ruby exclaimed.

“I’m not bloody kidding, remember that murder at my apartment a few weeks back? They caught the guy, last night!” He pulled out his phone, searching for the information and holding up the screen to show them a picture of the man who was arrested the previous night.

“Oh my God.” Emma said cupping her hand over her mouth.

“Emma, that’s not him.” Ruby said rolling her eyes.

“But what if it is.”

“You’re making excuses, so you don’t feel sad about getting stood up, I get it, I do.”

Emma frowned; she knew her friend was right. She was sad, and maybe a little bit angry at JR10 for standing her up. Even though he hadn’t sent her a message since last night, perhaps she needed to let him know how she felt.

Lonelygirl: I’m thinking about you. Last night I went to meet you and you didn’t show up. I wish I could understand why. I feel like such a fool. But while I waited for you to arrive, another man showed up. A man who has effectively been trying to ruin my professional life. But the most amazing thing happened, for the first time in my life, I was able to say exactly what I wanted at exactly the right time. But just as you said, I immediately felt regret for saying them. I was mean, and I’m never mean. And even if it didn’t hurt him, because honestly, he just thinks of me as a bug to crush under his feet, but what if it did hurt him? I behaved badly and that made me sad. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I consider you a dear friend, and I hope you had a good reason for not being there tonight, but if you didn’t and we never speak again, then I want you to know how much this time with you has meant to me. How much it has meant just to know you were there.

Emma shut down her laptop, wiping the tears from her eyes and crawling into bed.

~*~

Killian paced in front of his desk, reading the message from Emma again. He stopped for a moment, glaring at the screen before walking away and getting a bottle of rum from his kitchen. He poured a glass and took a sip. He wasn’t going to reply to her. He would just let it end this way and be done with this charade.

He poured another glass and walked toward his desk, turning sharply, and heading to the living room. Sitting down on the couch he turned on the television and his vision blurred to the sounds of some mindless television show playing out ridiculous scenes on screen.

Sipping his glass, he swallowed, the warm liquid coating his throat as it slid into his belly. “Fuck.” He cursed, standing up and walking back to his desk. Looking at the screen he re-read the message from Emma for the fourth time that evening.

Fine, he thought. I’m actually going to do this.

JR10: I’m in Vancouver.

He laughed and hit the backspace button, deleting what he had written.

JR10: I was stuck in a meeting; a microburst took out the entire block so there was no way I could reach out.

“Ridiculous.” He said out loud, erasing the message again.

JR10: I cannot explain what happened last night, but I feel terrible, love. I wasn’t there for you and instead I caused you more pain. I’m sure that whatever you said last night was provoked, even deserved. You expected to find someone you trusted and met the enemy instead. I truly am sorry; the fault is mine alone. I hope that one day I will be able to explain to you what happened, in the meantime, I’m here for you. Please talk to me.

~*~

“So, he didn’t tell you why he didn’t show up?”

“Nope, just that he would explain another time.”

“Sounds like a scam to me.” Ruby said, biting her lip.

Mrs. Lucas cleared her throat. “What have you decided, dear?”

Emma frowned, sipping her tea slowly. “I don’t think we have a choice. We’re going to have to close.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry.” Ruby offered beside her.

“I feel like such a failure, like I’m just giving up, letting him win. It feels like mom is…”

“Oh, sweet girl, closing the store doesn’t keep her alive. No matter how much you want it to.”

Emma cried that evening, staring at empty shelves, barren walls, a darkened store that would forever be gone. She imagined her mother, looking down at her while she danced in circles around her legs. Had she really lost or was this just her being brave? Maybe trying something new was the brave thing to do? Letting go of the past, her safety net.

As she sat across from August, staring at him while he spoke between bites, she realized that for the first time in her life, she could be anything that she wanted.

“I have an Amazon prime account.” She announced.

He paused, “What?”

“I know, I know, they are evil incarnate, but when I buy something, I get it the next day and that’s pretty awesome and I should have told you, but I didn’t.” She let the statement hang in the air.

“Since when do you shop online?”

“I know, I suppose you could never be with someone that buys items online from large corporations.”

He laughed. “Forget about it, I forgive you. It’s fine.”

Emma glared at him. “You forgive me?” She took a long drink of her wine while August stared at her with concern growing on his face.

“What’s wrong Emma?” Suddenly the dam burst, and tears started to stream down her face. “Hey, don’t do that. Emma, it’s alright. This has been a tough week with the store closing.”

“It’s not that though, August, I need…”

“That was insensitive of me.”

Emma sniffled. “What was?”

“To bring up the store, when you’re having a hard time and I’m the one who’s…” He took a quick drink and reached out to take her hand. “Emma I don’t know how to say this. I think you are an amazing person, and honestly I’m so honored that you chose me because I know that means something to you and…”

“You don’t love me.” She said suddenly realizing what he was trying to tell her. He frowned, squeezing her hand and Emma burst into a fit of giggles. “That’s wonderful news, I don’t love you either.”

“But we’re so right for each other.” He mused.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. Is there someone else?”

“Nothing that’s happened, but there is a woman, I don’t know. What about you? Is there someone else for you?”

Emma sighed sadly. “No, but there is the dream of someone else.”

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 8 – The Foil

(Mando x f!reader)

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

Summary: Outposted on Hoth while you heal, you, Cara and Grogu keep each other company. But your nightmares quickly return, and the dark forces sending them can no longer be kept at bay.

TW: Major character death (briefly), blood, swearing

Notes: Thank u all for reason still every like makes my heart go 🥺 and every reblog/comment makes me WEEP with joy! Hope y’all are staying safe! Two chapters left!!

Word count: 4.6k

Tagged: @crazycookiecrumbles

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

“What?” Din asks, noticing your face scrunch as your feet hit the ground.

“What is this?” you question, squatting down and picking up a handful of the white powder covering the planet's floor. The cold bites at your bare skin causing your hand to instinctively release.

“What never seen snow before?” he taunts, in a manner you had often used on him, as he and Cara stride ahead, each carrying bags twice the size of the average person. An impressive sight that left you feeling less than inadequate. You kicked at the snow turning around to grab a bag from the ship in an effort to demonstrate you could carry your own weight. In the meantime Grogu had managed to form the snow into a small ball which he promptly pelted towards the Mandalorian hitting him square in the helmet.

The thunk causes you to turn around in time with Din whose head was accusingly cocked towards you. You point to the kid who mirrors your movements causing him to grin underneath his helmet. He watches as you throw a bag over your shoulder, wincing in pain when you bend down to pick up the child. Anya bounds behind you, enamoured with the snow. The Mandalorian stops and begins tracing his steps back towards you.

“Here” he says reaching for the bag, any other day he wouldn't bother, he knew you could carry your own weight, hell you'd carried his literal weight before.

“If I can carry your ass, I think I can handle this bag” you roll your eyes, as the bag strap digs further into your shoulder causing you to quickly move past him. He watches you push through the snow and towards the concrete base a few feet ahead. He wished you’d let him help you. He knew you were strong; he wished you were a touch less stubborn.

“Well not the beach vacation I was hoping for, but it’ll do for now.” Cara say’s placing the sac carrying the medical supplies and food rations on a nearby table. You drop your bag the second you enter into the abandoned rebellion base. Slowly rolling your shoulder out attempting, and failing, to masquerade your pain. Din comes in behind you grabbing the bag you'd just dropped effortlessly tossing it, along with his own bag, up on the table with the med supplies.

“Looks like there's plenty of room here, enough bunks for us to have our own, amenities seem to work well enough, not sure about hot water, but at least its water.” Cara says appearing from a hallway.

“What about the camouflage? Is it still in place?” you ask as Din begins to type away into one of the dust covered computers. He grunts hitting the machine rather harshly while swearing under his breath.

“I can't tell, we need parts to fix it.”

“Should be some on the base.” Cara offers, more as a question than a statement.

“No, we need new technology to reinstate the old. I'll have to go out and get some.”

“That safe?” Cara asks

“If it's just me? Yes.”

“So I'm playing caretaker. You wanna tell her that or is that gonna be my job” she says, looking over at you as you unpack the preservatives into the kitchen area with Grogu tucked under your arm. The Mandalorian emits a low grumble. This wasn't going to go over well.

“We need food, I’m going to get some,” he states firmly, but from a safe distance.

“I'll come with you, you’re not much of a hunter” you say, placing Grogu down on the counter and brushing your hands off on your pants.

“Not hunting here, I'm going to get credits, I need to buy some parts to get the camouflage working again.”

“Alright, well I can help with that too” you say, confused as to why he was being so dismissive.

“No, you're injured,” he says, taking a cautious step towards you.

“I’m fine” you reiterate for what feels like the hundredth time since they’d saved you.

“Really?” He says rolling up your left sleeve, revealing scars still raw from the electrocutions. You push his arm away and roll your sleeve back down wincing when you graze the raw flesh. “When was the last time you slept? Really slept”

“No worse than it was before” you mumble out.

“You spent two weeks with the empire being treated like a caged animal, you need to rest.” he persuades, placing a tentative hand on your arm. The contact briefly causing you to shift away before settling into the gentle grip.

“And you’re leaving Cara here to babysit me?” you ask, eyes skirting to the side.

“ Yes. Normal circumstances you’d be fine, but you’re not in any shape to be fighting.” slightly taken aback by the honesty, but not surprised by his lack of bedside manner.

“This is crap you say.” shaking your head, if positions were swapped, sure you would be saying the same thing, but there's no way he would listen to you.

“If someone comes, you and Cara need to be here,” he states. Why he didn't just say ‘I just got you back, i'm not risking losing you again’ he doesn't know, but he’s sure it’s for the best. With no response from you he takes his leave. You watch his cape sway in the wind as he renters the ship and takes off leaving you behind once again.

“He’s infuriating.” You say to Cara who's hesitantly appeared by your side.

“Yup. But he’s also right. Common I want to see your light saber.” She says tugging on your elbow until you comply. You enter into one large open area of the base where various mismatched chairs littered the scene. You pull out the box containing the lightsaber as Cara burritos Grogu into a blanket propping him up on one of the strewn about chairs with a cushion.

“You're probably gonna want to hang back” you say, turning it on. The light purple aura shoots out vibrating softly. You move across the floor swingin it about a bit before finally closing it.

“Not bad,” Cara says, a smirk forming.

“We got anything disposable here?” you ask side eyeing her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Ya. Want me to throw it at you?” she responds, seemingly reading your mind. You nod your head excitedly. What started as a relatively safe game of toss and slice had progressed into something slightly more dangerous. You were blindfolded, three beers deep and Cara was no longer throwing soft items at you. After another piece of food smacks you in the face you rip off the blindfold only to see Cara giggling like a schoolgirl.

“You know if I was smarter I'd say you were doing this on purpose.”

“Good thing you're not any smarter.” she laughs, waking up Grogu who immediately reaches for the saber.

“No,” Cara says, grabbing him in the knick of time. You both begin to clean up the mess you had made, well at least the half that would smell bad by the morning. What would have been a 15 minute job turned into an hour long ordeal with most of the time being spent preventing Grogu from eating the splattered food and opening up the lightsaber.

“He’s got a predisposition for danger” you say, grabbing him away from the saber for the 90th time that night.

“I wonder where he learnt that from,” Cara laughs.

The next morning you wake up from another nightmare, at least it had been of the no name variety this time, nothing quite as drastic as being suffocated in your sleep. You pull yourself up onto a barstool and lean over the counter clutching the back of your head as a plate of food enters into your eye line.

“You're chatty in your sleep” Cara says, watching as you take a bite.

“Sorry did I wake you up?” you ask scrunching up your forehead and hiding your face in your hands.

“No, don’t worry I’ve got my own demons keeping me up at night. You sleep walk as well, had to turn you around or you would have walked right out the front door.”

“Well, that's embarrassing. Thanks for stopping me from freezing to death, ill strap myself into the bed tonight” you say with a chuckle.

“So what are yours about?” she asks.

“Some weirdo in a cape” you say, taking another bite. “you?”

“The war mainly,” she says “if you ever need to talk”

“Thanks, you too” it was nice to have her in your corner.

“Sorry by the way if you know, what we did to you has caused any nightmares” it was the first time you’d seen Cara look remorseful and soft.

“Ya those stopped after a few months, around the same time the bruises did. Not sure if it was thicker skin or I just got better at fighting.” Cara nods, emitting a relieved sigh.

“Who do you think would win in a fight? Me or Mando.” she asks, stopping any further awkwardness from continuing.

“Tough call, doesn't matter though i'd beat you both.” You smirk.

‘Oh please I could drop you with my pinky finger!” She laughs waving around the frying pan she’d been cooking with.

‘I’m stronger than I look” you say pointing your fork at her with a mouthful of food.

“I know that but i'm a better fighter. At least at hand to hand combat. Though from what I've heard if I give you a spear or a bow you’d probably destroy me.”

“Games were more rigged than you think. It was largely a performance.” you admit.

“Killing the devaronian part of that?”

“No, that was a fun surprise. They like to pit fan favourites against each other. Who told you about that, or were you there?”

“No, I don't take pleasure in forced fighting. Mando told me, when I asked if you were a strong fighter. He was convinced. Also told me you saved him from drowning. How'd you do that his armour weighs as much as a ranakor.”

“Gods I honestly don’t know how, could barely move the next morning between the freezing water and unexpected heavy lifting.” you respond, shaking your head.

“How’d you survive it, cold waters a killer even if it doesn't drown you?”

“Fire, thank god his cape was fast drying or I think the hypothermia may have gotten him.”

“Just the cape that kept him warm?” She asks innocently enough

“What did he tell you?” you shoot back, your eyes telling her there was more to the story.

“I don’t know what he should have told me?” she says now increasingly interested

“Is this why you made me a delicious breakfast? To grill me? You laugh

“Oh you are not getting out of answering that question by complimenting me”

“Body heat” you mumble, quickly stuffing more food into your mouth to shut yourself up.

“So you guys have..” she starts.

“No, oh my god, I don’t even think he's allowed to. No in order to survive we had to maintain body heat. Which we did with our clothes on, there's nothing more to it”

“Well from what i've heard he's definitely allowed to, and has on multiple occasions, but if there's nothing to it.” she lifts her eyebrow.

“Survival was the only thing to it.” you stress.

“Oh im sure neither of you enjoyed being cozied up to each other”

“I’ll get the saber if you're not careful” you threaten stuffing more food in your mouth in an attempt to shut yourself up.

“Seriously, him lugging around that armour all the time, he must look pretty nice under there and I mean, you’re... you so nothing to not enjoy there.” she rambles on.

“I'm getting it” you say sliding off the stool.

“Threatening to kill me, won’t get you out of this” she hollers after you

“Oh no Cara don’t worry it's for myself. Gonna use it to burn out any remnants of this conversation.”

“I'm just sayin!” Of course she was just saying, of course he hadn't told her about that because it meant nothing. Would you mind being wrapped up in his muscular arms again no of course not, you're not blind, but your also not stupid. You know there was nothing more to it than a debt and a friendship, and that was fine. F-I-N-E, fine with you.

*************************************************

The Mandalorian walks towards the base sporting a bag holding parts he hoped would patch up the base's broken down systems. The sun had set and the white snow glowed a light blue from where the moonlight reflected down on it. The grey clouds forming above indicated that a storm was brewing and the last thing he wanted was to get caught out in a blizzard. The doors whir as they close behind him preventing any cold from seeping through. Placing the bag down on a nearby table he pulls out some food and warmer clothes he'd grabbed while he was out. He walks over to the kids room cracking the door and peering in. The sound wakes Grogu causing him to start fussing only stopping when he's picked up. Din follows the trail of inanimate objects sliced and strewn across the floor until he sees Cara whose on the couch carving a wooden stick into a point.

“Welcome back” she says, not looking up from her project.

“Got the stuff, he wasn’t too much trouble?” he asks, referring to the kid and tossing her a blanket.

“Nope” she smiles, catching the quilt and wrapping it around herself.

“You two have fun?” he asks, directing her attention to the various metals that she had meant to clean up before he got home.

“You know we should really get lightsabers, it's not fair only Jedis can have them. She's something else, I can see why you enjoy her company so much” Cara says, hoping to provoke a reaction.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he spits out.

“Well it wasn’t supposed to mean anything but, I guess it's more than her company you'd like to enjoy? I heard about the cave, interesting the details you left out” She says, eyes glancing up at him as a smile spreads across her face. He's about to respond, but the distinct sound of doors opening brings about a silent truce as they shift into action mode, blasters in hand maneuvering quietly towards the door. Noticing a figure, Din takes aim, but Caras hand stays his shot.

“What’s she doing?” he asks, reholstering the blaster and moving towards you

“Sleepwalking.” Cara responds “she didn’t do this when you were around?” he shakes his head, he knew about the nightmares but this, this was an escalation he didn't see coming.

“We should wake her up, she’s going to freeze” he says

“You’re not supposed to wake them up,” Cara returns

“So we just let her wander out and die?” Din argues

“No we just turn her back in the direction of her room smart ass.'' The argument ceases when they remember the door being opened. You had managed to make your way out into the blizzard concerning both Din and Cara. He hands Grogu to Cara and trudges through the thick snow, which you were moving through with ease. Cara, not one to be left behind, follows him out sheltering the kid under the quilted blanket.

“Someones with her.” Cara shouts over the wind. She's right; he watches as you reach out for the cloaked figure turning it around to face you.

“Y/N!” the Mandalorian calls out.

*************************************************

Your name being called pulls you back to reality. You look down seeing Anya whose ears are back and emitting a sound the likes of which you’ve never heard. Your name’s called again further indicating this was not a dream, despite the surroundings feeling uncannily familiar. The figure stands before you, unmoving, still present, what the fuck was going on. Your heart races as you reach out this time your hand makes contact with a bony shoulder. Your eyes widen as you turn the figure around to face you. Your eyes flutter side to side trying to piece together the situation playing out before you. You hear the Mandalorian shouting for you, but you don't turn away.

Your hand reaches up to pull down the hood as you do a familiar buzzing fills your ears as a scarlet flash lights up the sky. A burning sensation radiating in your stomach causes you to look down just as the saber retracts back into its hilt, the red light dissipating as it does. Your hand grasps at the cloak tearing a piece off as the figure disappears into the night. You fall to the ground, it's cold, you can feel your light fading, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

************************************************

Din makes it to you first, dropping to your side. He places a hand under your waist lifting you onto his lap scanning your body for the damage. Your hands cover your abdomen. He moves them away revealing a substantial hole where the saber had cut straight through you. There was no blood, there was no fixing this, there was nothing he could do. Too many vital organs had been hit. He watches as you try and fail to intake the surrounding air into your lungs. He can see the panic in your eyes as you try and fail to breathe. Cara’s run comes to a halt. She stares down at the Mandalorian as he cradles a body that would never heal. You’re trying to say something, but all that’s emitted is a series of bloody splutters as you cling desperately to life. You look at Cara and the child before looking back up at him. Your purple eyes bore into him as your body goes limp. Anya throws her head back howling loudly into the night as Cara continues staring down stoic as even, placing a hand on the beskar armour. The Mandalorian doesn't move, he can’t, he won’t let you go. Why didn't he say anything, why couldn't he offer you some comfort in your final moments. He had failed you. As the howl fades back into the wind the silence becomes deafening.

Cara sees them first, Dins hand moves to your chest where small palpitations seemed to be occurring. His head swivels around staring up to see Grogu’s small green hand reached out, head wrinkled and eyes squinting in focus. As quickly as it had stopped your breathing begins again punctuated by a loud cough and several gasps for air which launch you upwards. The Mandalorians arm braces your shoulder as you do. He pulls up the hem of your shirt running a hand over skin that was beginning to smooth over. Grogu collapses back into Caras arms. Din breaths out for the first time in what felt like forever, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat back down. Your hands found their way up to his helmet tracing around its edges in an attempt to ground yourself.

“It’s okay, I’m here, you’re alive, you’re safe.” he whispers, as he brings his helmet down to your forehead pressing them together lightly. Your arms quickly wrap around him as you bury your face in his chest. The metal suddenly feeling like the most comfortable thing in the world.

“Makers get a room” Cara shouts. He hears you mutter something which he eventually makes out as “the child”

“He’s fine,” he says, watching the relief rush over your face as your arm reaches out to pet Anya before your eyes start close again.

“We have to get her inside, and warm, she’ll be fine, but we have to move quickly.” Cara says as Din lifts you up carrying you back inside.

The following days blur together for Din he left shortly after you were secured back in bed in search of supplies and medicine that would help ease your recovery. In all truth it helped keep his mind off the fact that you may not wake up. Despite Grogu’s best efforts you had been dead for a solid five minutes, that's not something many people recover from. He took up a few extra bounties along the way hoping they may have some answers as to who was with you in the blizzard that night, but nothing turned up. The killing helped him feel better, and coming back with supplies made him feel useful. No matter where he was, he always made sure to return with blankets and warm gear, especially after Cara had said you felt cold to the touch. He couldn't have that.

“I think we’re good for blankets, Mando anymore and she’ll sweat to death” Cara says with a small laugh unpacking yet another massive sheet made from some type of animal hide.

“You said she needed to be kept warm” he states, as if his actions were completely normal and reasonable.

“Well why don’t you just crawl in there with her that'll keep her nice and toasty” she teases “or you could just wait until she wakes up then you’d be able to keep her really warm, at least based on what I’ve heard from some of your past lovers” she laughs, as he leaves the room embarrassed.

*************************************************

Your mouths dry, that’s the first thing that alerts you to the fact that you were still alive. You open your eyes slowly permitting the fluorescent lighting to creep through causing a dull ache to pulse in your forehead. Closing one eye you move up in the bed causing multiple blankets to cascade down from your shoulders pooling in your lap. You turn to the side reaching for the glass of water precariously placed on your bedside table. A sharp pain shoots through your body as you reach out causing your hands to jolt down to the source of the pain. The scar tissue reminds you just how lucky you were to be alive. Your hands positioning is quickly changed as Anya nuzzles her snout underneath it. You scratch her ears, smiling as she licks at your face. You're distracted by the sound of footsteps inching closer to your door. You sit up and straighten your shirt, suddenly aware of how you must look and smell. Your fussing with your hair as the door clicks open.

“You're up!” Cara exclaims “wait here there’s someone who’ll want to see you. “

“Like I can go anywhere” you respond, shifting slightly as you do. She re-enters with Grogu who she places in your arms. He stares up at you with his big eyes, his hand reaching out for your chin. You lower your head so he can touch it eliciting a small contented gurgle.

“Thanks for saving me,” you say, as he worms his way underneath the blankets.

“Mando’s off getting supplies, mainly bringing back blankets for you though” Cara remarks causing you to roll your eyes.

“Five bounties so I’ve been out what? a day?” you ask shuffling through the thick fur covers which were, to be fair, keeping you nice and toasty.

“How are you feeling”

“Like a shish kebab”

“You looked like one. Do you remember anything about that night?”

“What apart from dying? I remember taking this” you say pulling out the small swatch of fabric you had torn from the figures cloak. “Nothing after that. I figured the only way this hole was closed was because of Grogu. Did something else happen?” Cara contemplates telling you about the tender moment she had witnessed between you and the Mandalorian, but opts to let him tell you himself.

“No, nothing. Get some more rest, you look like shit.” she laughs leaving the room allowing you to fall asleep with Grogu tucked neatly under your arm.

“Fuck” you shout, shooting awake. Your eyes water and your chest heaves. Another nightmare. Whoever this figure was, it knew it had not succeeded in killing you. Whatever it was you, and your friends, would not be safe until they, or you, were dead. You maneuver out of bed, careful not to wake the child as you do. Your feet hit the floor with a light slap, the sound being enough to rouse Grogu from his slumber. He blinks sleepily watching as you grab some clothes, a blanket and the ripped fabric tossing it all into a small leather bag. You whistle for Anya who begrudgingly hops off the bed and makes her way over to you. The child, now awake and apparently savvy to your plans scowls.

“I know, but we’ll be back once it’s dealt with” you say leaning over the bed to stroke his ear.

“Once what’s dealt with?” the familiar modulated voice asks behind you. “You’re leaving.” he continues, noting the rucksack tossed carelessly over one shoulder.

“Just for now.” You say, offering him a reassuring smile as you turn to face him, “I have to deal with something.”

“We can help.” He responds. You turn back to face the wall, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“Not this time I can’t put the kid at risk. It’s too dangerous. Whatever came here, it’ll come back once it feels I'm alive. I’m going to find it. See what it wants.” you unpack and repack your bag making sure everything you need is there.

“How do you know this isn’t what it wants you to do.” he poses, causing your hands to stop shuffling around inside the bag.

“I don’t.”

“And how do you think you’re getting off this planet.” he asks, a touch too smug for your liking. Especially considering you had not figured that part out yet.

“Gotta be some spare parts around here, maybe even an old ship.”

“Can you even fly?” Was that worry you detected in his voice, or amusement at the notion of you piloting a spacecraft.

“I'll be fine.” You say closing your bag.

“Let me help you.” he takes a step towards you, closing the space between you both.

“I’ll be alright” you say, turning and haphazardly throwing the bag over your shoulder. He steps in front of you, not willing to let you pass without a conversation. Not wanting to put him in danger you stand on your tiptoes and place your hands on the helmets sides, causing him tense up. You pull his face down to meet yours planting a kiss where his mouth would be.

“You’ve helped me enough” you say staring into the visor and slowly removing your hands. He remains where he stands, giving you enough time to skirt around him. Entering the kitchen you grab some preserves and a knife out the cupboards tossing them into the bag.

“Tell her she’s not leaving,” Din asserts to Cara, who had witnessed the previous events from a nearby chair.

“You can’t go by yourself, you’re smart enough to know that. Let us help.” She says. Realizing this isn’t a fight you can easily win you agree.

“Someone has to stay here with the kid. He won’t be safe where we're going. Din you should stay with him ” you say.

“I can’t fly a plane.” Cara lies in an attempt to force you both to confront your feelings for eachother, though she wasn’t entirely sure either of you knew how deep said feelings truly ran.

“I’ll take you.” Din says without hesitation

“I know you don’t like to be away from him.” you whisper quietly, your actions from before suddenly creeping to the forefront of your mind.

“We won’t be gone long” he says, evidently unfazed by the kiss. “You know where we’re going.

“No, but she does.” You nod in Anya’s direction.

[curedeity]

Studying Days

Summary: Flora pages through her book, jotting down ideas for what enchantment to show off on her final test, when someone knocks at her door.

Why are they trying so hard to get good grades anyway?

    Flora sat in the room she shared with Bloom alone, her friend having gone out to a cafe with Stella. Laid open on her lap was a book on enchantments which she paged through, humming as she found particularly useful ones to demonstrate for her exam. Imbuing objects with permanent magic was the culmination of all they’d been learning in their enchantment class this year, and the amount of her grade that relied on this assignment reflected that.

    It was honestly good fortune that Bloom had gone out. Love her friend as she did, Flora could still admit that Bloom’s ability to sit down and study was lacking. She wouldn’t have been able to get much work done if she had spent most of it tutoring Bloom and getting the girl to focus.

    Flora had just completed the third chapter when someone knocked on the door. The tapping was too light to be Bloom, so it must’ve been one of the fellow Winx (excluding Stella, who had the unfortunate tendency to barge into rooms out of excitement). Flora closed the book, slipping a twig through to mark the pages, and called out, “Come in!”

    Flora excellently hid her surprise when Musa entered the room, a bag thrown across her shoulder. It was rare for Musa to seek out her companionship, perhaps she thought Bloom had already returned?

    “Hey, so,” Musa rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, sending Flora a crooked smile (and damn if that didn’t make her heart melt). “Tecna’s being kinda loud right now, yknow, destroying Timmy at video games again, and you and I normally get similar grades so…” Musa held out her book bag. “Wanna study together?”

    Now that Musa mentioned it, she and Flora did normally receive the highest grades among the Winx (and among most of the students, Flora was allowed to brag a little), a fact that was just so slightly out of place with their normal personas that even Flora forgot it occasionally herself. Flora’s eyes quickly darted up and down Musa’s figure, thoughts whirring through her head.

    Then, without much fanfare, Flora shrugged and gave Musa a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

    Perhaps Musa would make for Flora’s first good study partner.

    An hour later, they were both sitting on the floor with books fanning out around them. Musa’s recorder sat in the center, with Flora taking down observation notes as Musa attempted to enchant it.

    It had taken them a while to decide on what to do. Musa was apparently a practical learner, and Flora couldn’t deny that she also liked that method. Musa’s instruments made for very simple things to enchant, and they had decided that playing it should make it rain.

    It would be a very clear sign that the magic had worked correctly, and, if they managed to pull it off, be very impressive for the exam.

    Unfortunately, neither had managed to successfully do so yet.

    “Can’t we just go murder Stormy and put her essence into the flute?” Musa complained.

    Flora tapped her chin. “Well, I don’t think we would manage to do so properly if we still are having trouble with enchanting an object. Tying an essence to it would be much more complicated magic, and we should wait until we have the proper skills to do so.”

    Musa hummed and tipped her head in forced agreement, but not without adding, “I’d be really motivated to make the magic work though.”

    Flora laughed, covering her mouth with a hand. She had to admit, the idea of getting back at the Trix would be very good motivation. But she just responded with, “I guess we’ll just have to rely on the prospect of a good grade to keep us going.”

    “Sometimes it doesn’t seem that worth it.”

    At this Flora sat down more comfortably, leaning her chin into her palm as she looked over at Musa. They had already been studying for a while, so Flora supposed one conversation break was deserved. “And why’s that?”

    Musa was already waving away her previous comment. “I suppose I don’t mean it that much, I really like learning new things and that’s all the motivation I need. Guess I just wish my dad would be a bit more excited about me doing well in school. He’s nice about it and all but like, his support feels weird sometimes.”

    Flora hummed comfortingly. She had found her friends, just like Miele, liked the soft songs she knew by heart. Besides, what was there for her to say? Musa didn’t seem to want a retort, or unconditional support, so Flora would just be a vine on the wall, listening for now.

“I wanna be a musician, yknow? But my dad really hates that idea, so whenever I get good grades he’s happy, but happy in the way where he thinks I’m giving up on my dream and doing something he’d prefer. Just, sucks because I like school and I like doing well.”

At some point during her speech, Musa had flopped onto the floor, her head resting near Flora’s crossed legs. With deft fingertips, Flora undid the tight pigtails Musa’s hair normally was held in, and began running her fingers through the black strands. 

“Musa, I’m sure your father will come around to you being a musician someday, and if he doesn’t want to, I’ll go to each of your concerts to cheer you on.” Flora probably would’ve gone anyway, Musa’s music truly was beautiful, and it was always nice to hear the rare pieces she’d share with the group. And if Flora didn’t go, one of the other Winx (Tecna) most certainly would.

Musa giggled and swatted Flora’s hand away playfully. “Don’t say that, concerts take up a lot of time, especially if I ever get good enough to go on tour. You wouldn’t want to follow me to like, 20 different stops.”

Flora had never considered that. She mulled over the information, and then discarded it. “I would get Stella to teleport me.”

Musa rolled her eyes, obviously having to concede the point. “So why do you try so hard to do well in school?”

“This is trying hard to you?” Flora asked dryly, gesturing around at the state of their life. To be honest, this was probably Flora’s worst academic year of her life. She was far too busy dealing with the Trix to focus on school as much as she’d like. 

Besides Flora had never studied overly much anyway, it was more in her ability to focus.

“You know what I mean!”

Flora chuckled, and leaned back for a few moments. An answer didn’t immediately bloom on the tip of her tongue, it wasn’t something she had thought of much. School was simply something you were supposed to be good at, for no other reason than to be good at it. And Flora certainly had never found it very hard to be good at academics.

“I suppose I want to be at school to help me later in life, for a good career, but I think I may just like being good at it,” Flora shrugged, her last words making Musa cackle. “If I can be good at school, is that not enough of a reason to be?”

“I mean, it does mean you can hold your report card over Stella.”

“I’d never tease one of my friends like that. Stella does put in some effort to be good at school, and I’d never discourage her in that way.” Flora clutched a hand to her chest.

“Well, you certainly do consistently uphold your reputation of being the nicest person in all of Alfea,” Musa smirked.

Flora blinked down at her, a facade of innocence masking her face. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Musa snorted, “Sure you don’t. Now come on, let’s get back to work.”

There were many reasons Flora tried so hard at Alfea. Sometimes it was to be a good role model for her little sister, sometimes to defeat the evil forces that kept bothering them. But more commonly, it was for little things, like the look of hilariously overdramatic betrayal Bloom shot her when Musa dragged Flora out of the room, saying that “It’s time for the A honor roll girls to do some actual studying.”

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Sugar Rush

Summary:  

Marley brings the celebration of Halloween to Paradis. Hange and Levi go trick or treating with their child for the first time and start to realize how much the world has changed since the war.

A Halloween piece for the Levihan spookfest, one year late. (I hope you’re still accepting them.)

Written for @levihanweek. to cap off Levihan Angstober. Happy Halloween everyone!

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: For people who read "Rough day," this domestic fluff piece is set in the same universe. I just wanted to contribute a Halloween piece for the Levihan Spookfest. I am one year late though.

"Happy Halloween!" Hange chimed as she entered the kitchen and plopped her already dolled up kid down on the table next to her. 

"So what are the tacky decorations and costumes for?" 

Hange was wearing a full body suit of the colossal titan while Luke, their five year old child was wearing a mini armored titan costume. A part of Levi wondered how people of Paradis had so easily forgotten the attack of Shiganshina that titan costumes existed and were actually being sold. He had seen a few people in titan suits on the way to the market just that morning. 

"These are all to scare away the spirits!" Hange explained.

"Of dead people?"

"Of dead people."

"It would be nice to be visited by some ghosts. Wouldn't you want to see Erwin or maybe even Moblit again?" Levi had seen enough death in his life that the holiday which Marley introduced to them which was supposed to them did not seem as scary as the people were painting it out to be. The idea of the dead people visiting felt almost desirable for that hardened soldier one who'd seen too many people die.

"But daddy, ghosts are scary! They can kill you!" Luke said as he walked towards Levi.

What are they teaching this kid in school? "What if those ghosts were daddy's old friends? Do you think they’ll kill you?" Levi bent down to face his son only to see the boy looking utterly confused.

Levi only had to look back at how they raised him to understand why. Despite his parents background, the boy was raised with what they have considered too peaceful an upbringing. The closest thing to a blood bath he had seen was when Hange so enthusiastically pulled out his baby tooth just a few months ago. Levi was not sure though if the kid had been scared of the blood or the strong reaction of his mother. 

"Levi, get dressed. It'll be our first trick or treat."

"I'm ready already." Levi walked to the balcony room where he had let his old survey corps cloak hang out to dry after thoroughly washing it. 

"You're wearing that?" Hange asked, raising one eyebrow in disappointment. "Isn't that a bit too lazy?"

"Let me try out this new festival of yours and if it's any fun maybe I'll try harder next time." 

Levi and Hange both lived towards the center of Paradis since Hange was closely working with the government to help the island catch up to its peers. They had agreed to use the holiday as an excuse to see parts of the new Paradis they had not seen in a while, having rented a space in the outskirts for a few days. Hange had seen her fair share since she was back and forth from the ports and the center due to work. Levi on the other hand barely visited the outer cities, having spent his time keeping the household running and raising Luke while Hange worked full-time.  

They made the thirty minute walk to the outskirts where Hange concluded was the start to the most time efficient route with the highest possible yield of candy, that looped all the way back to their rented bungalow.

It turned out the strategy of the former commander had been almost foolproof. One kilometer in and Luke's bag was almost half full.

"Hey man, your survey corps costume looks pretty good!" 

Levi looked to the voice behind him to see a teenage boy in a titan costume. 

"Did you make it yourself?" The teenage boy continued. 

Levi looked to Hange as if to ask "Who made our costume?" In fact, Levi had just wanted to walk on, ignoring the teenage boy. It had been less than a decade since the end of the war. With the quick advancement of technology, it felt like more of a century ago to Levi. That instance only reminded him what people saw as a soldier uniform's long ago has been reduced to a costume prop.

"I did actually. What do you think?" Hange asked 

It was a blatant lie.Technically though she did design the new uniform when the war against Marley started. Levi thought to himself. 

"Well you got the colors of the wings of freedom wrong. The blue wing is on the right side not the left." 

                                               Sugar Rush

"Hey Hange, you should monitor how they make the survey corps costume. This is slightly pissing me off," Levi muttered as they started to get to the denser parts of town. 

"Well, with a port to run and research to do, I don't really have time to monitor holiday costume designs."

Although there were many people in titan costumes, there were also a fair number of people donning the survey corps cloak, a few in garrison uniform, and fewer in the military police. Although the survey corps had a rocky start, towards the end of the war against Marley, they were painted to be the main hero, their stories told in bars, restaurants, wherever people would listen. It was only natural that clothing manufacturers got on wind with the popularity. 

But they got it all wrong. Levi thought. He turned to Hange to see that she was just slightly amused at it. 

As they walked on, they passed by a park where a group of kids in survey corps cloaks were playing. 

"I'm Levi! Humanity's strongest soldier!" One kid said as he climbed on top of a rock.

Levi heard Hange chuckling behind her as he stopped to watch the play between the five kids unfold. 

"No I wanna be Levi!" The smaller kid protested as he tried to pull the larger kid down from the rock.

"You can't be Levi! Levi is big and strong! Mommy and Daddy said so!"

Levi did not know who mommy and daddy were but he found himself interested enough to approach the group of kids. At first, they looked almost terrified to see an adult stranger approach. Levi made an effort to smile though which worked enough at least for them to stay put. 

"Levi can be as tall or short as you want him to be." Levi patted the small kid's head then looked at all the kids. "Kids, make sure to take turns." 

"It's okay! I'm Captain Erwin!"

"I'm Captain Hange!"

"I'm Captain Mike!" 

It's Mee-keh not Maik. "That's good. Don't play too rough." Levi found himself struggling to keep the friendly smile. He walked away from them, quickening his pace with every step, trying to stop the urge to play cop and point out the inaccuracies in their casual game of soldier. 

Erwin and Mike probably would not have minded those inaccuracies but something inside Levi protested the omission on his end. 

"You're not going to correct them?" Hange said as he walked back at her. 

"Erwin and Mike probably wouldn't have cared. Do you mind?"

"No. Not really. But humanity's strongest being big and tall..." Hange widened her eye in emphasis as she gave him a onceover from head to toe. 

“Humanity's strongest might even like that.”

"Daddy did you meet captain Levi? Was he really big and tall?" Luke pulled on Levi's cloak as he asked. 

"He can be as big and tall as you want him to be Luke."

                                           Sugar Rush

"Tell me more about Captain Levi! Was he big? Tall? Was it weird that you were also Levi?"

Hange and Levi had allowed their son to eat a few candies that night. Levi was sure he had at least rationed it well to keep the child happy but prevent a sugar rush. 

Maybe it was when he went to take off his cloak, wash it and leave it out to dry did Hange sneak him a few more candies in. As he looked inside the bag to see everything had been opened and half eaten, he was sure that that could have been the only explanation. 

As Levi snuck a glance at Hange, he could tell she was regretting it. I told you a while ago a handful is enough. 

“Where did you learn so much about this captain Levi figure?” Levi asked, humoring the young boy.

“The teacher tells stories about him. He was part of the Ackerman clan and he could destroy one hundred titans in one swoop.” Luke excitedly yet awkwardly swung his imaginary sword in the air and Levi could not help but note that he would have never swung his blades in that manner. “You and mommy were both soldiers right? Did you get to meet him?”

“A few times.” 

“I told my friends in school that my parents were retired soldiers and they said that the soldiers were playing and eating inside the capital while the survey corps actually went outside and fought the enemy. I think you and mommy were different. Mommy would have done research right? While you were fighting the bad people in the walls right?”

“Maybe I was.” Levi turned to Hange for help. The latter was too busy rummaging through her kid’s bag for candy. Luke did not seem to notice or probably did not care, his eyes were fixed on his father and Levi wondered how long the kid had been keeping it in.

“How was Captain Levi?”

“He was a friendly guy.” Levi answered. He heard Hange snort next to him.   

“Did he ever save you from titans?”

“A few times.” 

 “Then you must know what happened to him? Even our teacher doesn’t know!”

                                                Sugar Rush

It was almost midnight. Only thirty minutes ago did Luke’s sugar rush die down. Soon after though, the young boy had fallen asleep and like on most other nights, Levi and Hange were left alone together. They were going through the pile of uneaten candy of their son, having decided that they had to eat what was left since they had no place to store it without risking an ant infestation.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Hange asked as she went back to the table. She had checked up on their son just a second ago, making sure she was asleep before she brought up the elephant in the room. 

“Didn’t you hear the kid? If we told him where Captain Levi was, he was gonna tell all his friends. We can’t really trust a five year old kid to keep secrets just yet.”

“And you don’t want people to know where Captain Levi is,” Hange said matter of factly.

“I went for this type of life because I wanted peace.” Levi popped a half eaten chocolate in his mouth. 

“Which explains why you wanted our kid to take up my name instead.” 

“Ackerman never stuck. I’ve always been just Levi.” 

Luke Zoe was the more conservative naming choice. Levi Ackerman had become a household name while the full name of the commander had been known only among those who did the research but her stories were not as blown up as that of the captain. 

Oddly enough, their child had not picked up on both their first names being the same ones as those of the survey corps soldiers. Levi had attributed it to the fact that the boy spent most of his days with him while Hange was at work. The retired soldier had dedicated his time to other things like cleaning, housework, child rearing and tea mixing, having put his bloodier past behind him. The kid saw them as parents, not as the heroes he was hearing about in school. 

I wanna meet a survey corps soldier! They sound so cool! You must know one! Bring me to one. I wanna thank them for their service! Ask them how they flew through the air. I wanna see how big and burly they are.

Or possibly, Luke already had expectations on what they looked like and Levi and Hange just did not fit the profile.  

"Maybe we should buy him a mini survey corps cloak too. It feels weird that the survey corps played such a big part of our lives and we’re not even giving him that,” Hange suggested. 

“And support shitty research. No way.” Levi rolled his eyes as he imagined the erroneous design of the wings of freedom insignia. 

“As someone who has worked on research her whole life, I can sympathize.” Hange gave Levi a consoling smile. The cloak was last used more than fifteen years ago and the more recent designs had probably already overshadowed the one used back when the survey corps was still seen as inferior to the garrison and military police. “Hey, can you eat this gooey colorful one? It sticks to my teeth.” 

“How much more do we have to eat?” Levi emptied the bag on the table. Luke had eaten half of every single candy in the bag

“Maybe your trick or treat route was just a little too strategic Hange.”  

They did not sleep that night.    

[be11atrixthestrange]

Step 3: Reading Her Signals

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

Step 3: Reading Her Signals

When you've developed a mutual understanding of one another, it'll become important to demonstrate your knowledge. Pay attention to the way she communicates, both verbally and non-verbally. Learning to read her signals will make her feel understood. Be sure to ask for clarification when you doubt her meaning, and more importantly respond to feedback if you get it wrong. If you can do this, you'll be well on your way to charming her.

******

Ron had just turned to chapter three of 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches when something broke his attention. Hermione's breathing picked up it's pace, growing shallower and faster in her sleep. Even though it had been years, she still experienced nightmares from that dreadful day at Malfoy Manor. He knew not to wake her, because they could be worse when she fell asleep the second time. Other times, waking her from them would prevent any more sleep, only to leave her staring anxiously at the ceiling, reliving the nightmare in her memory.

He transferred the book into his other hand so he could inch closer to her. He slipped his free arm across her and guided her gently to her side. Her breathing changed abruptly, and he froze, hoping that he hadn't woken her up. He tentatively placed her head against his chest, and she responded by curling up closer to him, and her breathing steadied. Relieved she was still asleep, he planted a soft kiss on her forehead before turning his attention back to the book.

The interaction was well rehearsed. Through trial and error, he had learned how to calm her out of a nightmare without waking her. He understood the warning signs that preceded one, and he could usually mitigate it rather quickly by holding her firmly against him so she could hear the calming rhythm of his breath.

Admittedly, he was better at reading her body language when she was awake. He could tell if she had a bad day at work simply by the heaviness of the thud her bag made when it hit the floor. On those evenings, he would pour her a glass of wine as she hastily changed into clothes that might as well have the words "we're ordering take away tonight" cross stitched to the front.

At his annual office party, he swiftly changed the subject when his team began talking about their most recent case- an Azkaban escapee who tortured muggles- because he saw the color drain from her face, and she gripped her wine glass a little more firmly. He knew she was ready to leave by her forced politeness when his colleague explained a piece of legislature that she had written herself, and the piercing glare she gave an inebriated guest who mumbled his appreciation for her low-cut dress.

They had even streamlined their communication in the bedroom. He wouldn't bother to cast a contraceptive charm if he found her bundled up in an oversized jumper, so absorbed in a book that she startled when he entered the room. Other times, he didn't need to ask if, or how she wanted him to touch her. He knew by the way she smiled before tangling her fingers in his hair and gently tugging his lower lip between her teeth. On those nights, he would confidently slip a hand under the lace of her knickers, and watch as her eyes closed contentedly and her cheeks turned bashfully pink. Her breath would catch in her throat, she would dig her fingers into his skin, and there'd be no need to say anything at all.

Sometimes he wished he could go back in time, simply to shake his former self by the shoulders and expose every missed opportunity. He could have had her sooner, if only he'd been able to read her signals.

******

Their first kiss took him by surprise. He had accepted that it wouldn't happen until the war was over, but the war was definitely not over when it did. He thought about that kiss often, specifically to remind himself exactly what he did to provoke it. He had expressed a mild concern over house-elves fighting in the battle, and suddenly, without warning, her lips were on his, he had lifted her off her feet, and Harry was mumbling something unintelligible in the background.

Upon reflection, he realized that his comment about house-elves was one of many possible things he could have said in that moment, all of which would have produced the same result. Hermione later described it with a muggle phrase- ‘the straw that broke the camel's back’. It wasn't that particular comment, but the accumulation of many smaller moments over the past few months, which eventually made not kissing him seem utterly insane.

One of the first moments he could recognize as a misread signal took place just a few days after he rejoined the hunt. He didn't want to pressure Hermione into forgiving him, so he avoided the topic of his abandonment all together, even though he knew it eventually had to be discussed. There was an opportunity one night, when he took over the watch and sent Hermione to bed. Things were still quite tense between them, so he was taken aback when she offered to stay with him.

"You really should sleep," he told her. "I'll be fine." If he wasn't so surprised by her offer, he might have been able to establish more control over his tone. Maybe then he would have sounded thankful rather than dismissive.

"It goes by faster when you have someone to talk to," she replied. "I can stay if you want."

If you want. Her emphasis on the words echoed tauntingly in his mind. Of course he wanted her to, and she knew that. He tried to convince himself that he was misinterpreting her tone, but the still-lingering voice of the locket reminded him that he didn't need her company, and that he'd be asking too much by letting her stay.

"I can take care of myself, Hermione."

"I know you can," she continued, wrapping her blanket more tightly around her body. "But I honestly don't mind."

He did want her to stay, but only if she wanted to, and he simply couldn't be sure that she did. He was wrong, of course. He could have accepted her offer, and they might have started healing that night. He might have been able to explain how the locket affected him, and share what it had said before he destroyed it. Maybe then, they would have curled under her blanket together, fingers interlaced, while she rested her head on his shoulder, cushioned by the bushy pillow of her hair.

"You really should go to bed,," is what he told her instead, which unfortunately sounded nothing like 'please stay', and left little room for her to misinterpret his words like he wanted her to.

So she didn't stay. She turned her back to him and left for bed, dragging her blanket on the floor behind her as it picked up dirt and dust along the way.

They had another miscommunication a few weeks later. On a particularly chilly morning, he cautiously approached her, and settled onto the opposite end of the sofa. Since his return, he had been holding back any physical affection. He no longer hugged her before bed, or affectionately tucked her hair behind her ear, or brushed his hand against hers when they passed each other. He wasn't even sure if he could sit next to her on the sofa. These things felt like privileges he had lost when he left, and he didn't dare overstep any boundaries.

"It's pretty cold, isn't it?" she asked him, without looking up from her copy of Beedle the Bard. She was bundled up in her jumper, which was worn and nearly threadbare after months on the run.

"Yeah," he nodded. "It is." They had become more comfortable with small talk since he'd returned, but Ron couldn't help but think she was filling the space with meaningless conversation to distract from her lingering anger.

A few moments of silence passed before she softly spoke up again. "My jumper isn't thick enough."

Before he could let his mind wander to more fun ways to warm her up, he pulled the hem of his own jumper up and over his head. He wiggled himself out and handed it to Hermione. "I'm not really that cold. You can wear mine."

"Thanks," said Hermione, and though she was smiling, something else in her tone made him think twice about whether he'd done the right thing. Either way, she pulled his jumper over her own head, and her hair burst through the neck like a butterfly leaving its cocoon.

"Of course," he said, suddenly very aware of the intimacy of her wearing the jumper that he wore to sleep every night. He risked a glance at her, accidentally catching her gaze.

She grinned softly under his eye contact. "I'm still cold though."

Ron felt the color creep up his neck. He wanted to believe this was an invitation to move closer. He could warm her right up by joining her under that blanket, and wrapping his arms around her. If it truly was an invitation, he could explore what it might feel like to run his fingers through her hair, or press his lips to her skin, all in an effort to keep warm, of course.

Although it sounded like an invitation, he couldn't risk being wrong.

"I'll get you another blanket," he said, before getting to his feet to retrieve his comforter from his bunk.

They carried on like this, second guessing every signal, tiptoeing around apologies and forgiveness until that dreadful day at Malfoy Manor, when he nearly lost her.

He had to block the memory from replaying endlessly in his mind, or else he wouldn't be able to function enough to enjoy the fact that she survived, and he still had a future with her. He spent days by her bedside, promising himself that when she woke up, he would tell her everything. He'd apologize for leaving, he'd open up about the locket, and he'd finally tell her loved her.

But the moment never felt right. For days, she faded in and out of consciousness, while Fleur tended to her wounds. He helped, of course, carrying her when she couldn't walk, changing her bandages, applying dittany on her cuts and bruises, and helping her dress when Fleur needed a hand.

Weeks passed, she began to recover, and Ron hardly left her bedside. Then the nightmares began. He would stay up all night, tears streaming down his face as she relived the torture in her sleep, unable to wake her up and desperately wishing he could do something, anything to make it stop. There were no nefarious motivations the first time he crawled into bed with her to wrap her in his arms, hold her head against his chest, and breathe rhythmically until she matched her breathing to his.

He did it every night. She would refuse to sleep until he slid under the blankets with her, draping an arm across her as he nestled his face into her hair. It had begun to feel natural, and he knew they'd never go back to sleeping alone.

They had yet to kiss, but it already felt like they had far surpassed the intimacy of a kiss. There was one night, when they were lying awake, foreheads together, when she reached a hand to his face. Her fingers slipped into his hair and she gently ran her thumb down his jawbone. He gave her a weak smile, which she returned. Then he shifted his gaze to her lips. This is a sign, he thought, and when her cheeks flushed pink and she nervously bit her lip, he was certain it was.

But he didn't kiss her.

He hesitated because in the morning, she would need his help reapplying dittany to a few of the deeper cuts left by the chandelier. She would tell him to avert his gaze while he helped her change out of her nightgown, because she still didn't have the strength to do it by herself. Then she would drape her arm around his shoulders, while he supported her down the hall so she could use the bathroom, and she would ask him to take the stairs first, just in case she lost her balance and needed someone to catch her fall. He could have kissed her, and he truly thought she wanted him too, but in the small chance she didn't, she wouldn't be able to get up and leave the bed without angering her injuries, and she would have no one to coax her out of her next nightmare.

Instead, he tugged her toward him, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. They stayed like that for a few moments, before she snaked her arm around him and inched even closer so she could bury her face into his shoulder. He felt hot tears slide from her cheeks to his shirt, soaking it though so that it adhered to his skin, the same way it did when he was splinched months earlier. But this time it was Hermione who was hurting, and there was so much he wanted to say, but he didn't think the right words existed, so he simply held her close, letting her cry into his shirt. He hoped she understood why he wasn't really kissing her, and that she saw it as a promise that soon, he would.

So weeks later, when Hermione jumped into his arms in the Room of Requirement, he couldn't help but feel understood. He returned her kiss with enthusiasm, and for a few moments, he was completely unaware of his surroundings. They broke apart only when Harry's mumbling became clearer, reminding them that there was a war going on here, and asking if they could just hold it in a little longer. Ron wanted to laugh, because really, the right moment was either now, or never. His mind ran through every opportunity and signal that he had missed, and he wondered what sign he had given Hermione just now to spark her confidence in kissing him. Whatever it was, he was so thankful that she could read it.

[catboymingi]

memories - in this life and the next chap. 1

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst; soulmates & reincarnation au

word count: 3.1k

warnings: amnesia, hospital environments, dealing with grief, emotional neglect, a teeny bit of language

a/n: this is so short i’m sorry i promise the next ones will be longer, this one was just mainly to like... build the context. also the change in you/her from the previous chapter is intentional, it’s ~foreshadowing~

while some people want nothing more than to remember, others would give everything just so they could forget

the four minutes of silence had been the worst four minutes your family had ever lived through. the doctors had done whatever doctors did when someone died in their hospital bed, but were at least as surprised as your family when you shook slightly, immediately resuming their efforts at reanimating you, and this time it worked. they attached you to an incredible amount of machines and put you into an artificial coma to spare your body from having to do more work than absolutely necessary until they could somewhat safely say that being awake would not risk anything for you anymore.

when you woke up for the first time weeks after you had died for four minutes you didn’t recognise any of the faces around you. you didn’t understand what they were saying, and you couldn’t recognise the name they called you by.

“i don’t understand”, you said weakly, and surprised everyone when you spoke korean. of course your entire family spoke korean - your parents had immigrated in their twenties, before you were born, so you’d grown up bilingual. what was surprising wasn’t that you knew korean, it was that you didn’t understand the language that was supposed to be as natural to you as korean was. it was then that they realised they hadn’t gotten their daughter back. that their daughter didn’t even remember that she was their daughter. but you were alive, and that was already more than they’d hoped for when the machines first turned silent.

the doctors told you that this amnesia might slowly disappear, that you might slowly remember your life again, but also warned you that it might not ever leave and you had to be prepared for that. it stung, but they tried their best to give you your memories back, tell you about your life, your friends, everything you’d ever done that they could tell you about. you couldn’t remember any of it, but it seemed like your life had been fairly happy, if you ignored the autoimmune disease you had to deal with. they’d always tried their best to allow you as much of a normal life as they could, and even though you couldn’t remember any of it you still felt a deep gratitude towards these people that obviously cared about you incredibly much. so you tried to like them, to feel the feelings towards them that a daughter should have towards her parents, and while you didn’t feel close to them yet, couldn’t feel close to them yet, your discomfort at their touches, their physical affection, had slowly started to decrease. you knew it probably hurt them, but it wasn’t something you could change, no matter how hard you tried.

//

unlike this family, mingi hadn’t been lucky enough for the love of his life to wake up again. he’d refused to leave her side until they had told him there was nothing they could do, that there was nothing he could do either, at which point he’d broken down crying, unable to be strong anymore. he’d lost her. he’d lost her forever and he was stuck waiting until he could find her again, in the next life and the one after that, wanting nothing more than to speed up the process. but he knew that she wouldn’t have wanted that, so he forced himself to go on, even though he was but a shadow of himself, burying himself in his work and moving in with a friend because he couldn’t stand returning to the apartment he’d shared with her every single day, all the memories and all the little pieces of her that he refused to get rid of even though he was unable to even look at any of it. he felt like if he got rid of even the smallest piece of trash that she’d forgotten to throw away before she left for work that day he got rid of her, of the memories and of the relationship and of all the moments and feelings he’d shared with her. and while his friends were worried for him they knew he needed to grieve, they knew he needed his time, and they were more than willing to wait for him to be even a little more okay than he was now. they knew she’d been his everything.

//

day after day you tried to become yourself again, trying to remember who you even were in the first place. but your memories seemed to be irrevocably gone, even your name not yet something you reacted to each time someone called out for you. it didn’t feel like you. it didn’t feel like the person you were now, and you felt like you’d failed everyone for not wanting to be a person you couldn’t even remember. you wanted to create a new you, because unlike the people surrounding you, the people that remembered who you used to be and that had an attachment to those memories, the person that you were before you died held no significance to you, the only thing you had in common with her being her body, her genetic set up. you didn’t want to have to keep trying to be someone you weren’t even sure you wanted to be.

at least your overall physical condition seemed to have improved drastically, miraculously. it was as if your autoimmune disorder had died along with you, something the doctors tried very hard to figure out because that wasn’t how genetic disorders worked, but it seemed like that was the trade-off for your complete lack of memory. everyone was still somewhat wary at your sudden and technically impossible recovery, so that you were kept in the hospital for another couple weeks even after you were fine, just to be sure, but when your condition seemed to not worsen at all even after one and a half months you were deemed stable enough to return home. you would have to come in weekly for a check-up, and you would have to be careful to not over-exert yourself, but since you would be on constant watch by your parents the doctors decided that it might be helpful for you to return to your childhood home, maybe having some memories resurface in the familiar environment.

that hope was quickly destroyed by the harsh reality of your brain refusing to remember anything at all. it was as if you’d never even been in this house, and all the pictures on the walls didn’t feel like you, either. the house felt heavy, suffocating, enveloped in feelings and memories that everyone but you remembered. you felt like a stranger, you felt out of place, and as soon as your parents allowed you to you spent as much time in public spaces as you could. you wanted to escape the pressure of having to remember, and you wanted to escape their looks of disappointment and resentment towards you, the person that looked so much that the daughter they’d loved but didn’t behave like her at all. because even though you had no memory of them you didn’t want to be looked at like that, like you’d stolen their daughter from them, like you were an intruder. like it was your fault. not remembering them was okay for you, but knowing that they remembered you, remembered the you from before and the you now, and that it was very obvious which one they preferred? that hurt. knowing that you weren’t good enough for them hurt. knowing that, even if they’d never admit it, a part of them wished you’d stayed dead because this was like you being dead except they had to look at you all the time hurt. and knowing that you had no one to go to about this, to talk to about how you felt, hurt as well.

so, hours outside turned into more and more time, until at some point you decided you were tired of it. your parents had money, savings, and even though you felt a ping as guilt as you took them that quickly subsided, because you knew that the money they kept in the house wasn’t even close to all their money. they’d maybe not even notice it. but for you, it would make life much easier. you gathered the essentials - a sleeping bag they’d told you about in one of their desperate attempts to get you to remember things, food that wouldn’t be expiring anytime soon, and whatever else google told you was useful for living on the streets. it wasn’t like you were planning to do that - you weren’t stupid, nor were you suicidal, and the money you had might last you for a very cheap airbnb for the entire month and maybe more; by that time you planned to have found a job and your own place to stay. you didn’t rush this, either - transferred the money to a new bank account, got yourself a new wardrobe, a few pieces at a time, tried to prepare yourself for what you were about to do as well as you could. you might’ve hated your current life, but running away without any kind of planning wasn’t going to improve your situation. so you took your time.

when you finally did it, though, you felt relieved. you didn’t realise how caged you’d felt until you were out. it felt like you were able to breathe again, for the first time since you woke up after dying.

//

mingi still was very far from over her, but his friend yunho had convinced him that he should rent out the living room in the apartment he still refused to enter, he still refused to give up. he paid rent there, by himself now that she was gone, and the only reason why he managed to keep it was all the extra shifts he’d picked up and the fact that yunho had mercy on him and didn’t ask for a lot of rent. but he couldn’t keep it up forever either, and it was because of this that a few weeks after the initial idea, they’d found someone who had rented the living room for a few weeks right away. mingi still wasn’t ready to go in, so he asked his friend to go and lock your bedroom and take away everything that he knew was so personal to the heartbroken man. he hated the idea of changing anything, but he hated the idea of a stranger rummaging through his life with the love of his life even more. so all the important things, the anniversary gifts, the pictures, were locked in the bedroom.

it hurt yunho to be there, as well - mingi hadn’t been the only one that she’d meant a lot to. being as close as he was with the tall male it had been impossible to not befriend her too, her bright and lively aura pulling in everyone that got to meet her. but he prepared everything, for his friend, because he knew that if he had to go back he’d break down and no one might be able to piece him back together.

and it was yunho who welcomed the very first person - besides him - to enter the apartment where mingi’s entire heart was still kept.

//

you’d found a place to rent for cheap very soon - it was almost an entire apartment, for half the price you’d pay if you were to rent it first-hand. the person you’d been messaging sounded incredibly nice, and while you were doubtful because it was a man who sorted things with you and a man that was the main tenant you had a fairly good feeling about just these men. you’d been given some clear rules via call already - don’t move anything, don’t throw anything away that you didn’t bring, preferably just don’t touch anything unless absolutely necessary. you thought it was odd, but you accepted it. it was a place to stay, more luxurious than you could have hoped for, and you were guaranteed that you’d be able to stay for as long as you wanted to if you followed the rules.

a tall blond greeted you in front of the building, showing you the way to your new home for the next few weeks and handing you the keys. he entered with you, making sure there were no questions about the apartment and once more stressing that you were not allowed to throw anything away, change anything, and that the bedroom was a hard no. it was locked, anyway, but he wanted to be sure. and while you accepted these rules, you were curious about them because it did sound a little like the owner either had ocd or was an axe murderer who kept the evidence hidden away in his apartment.

“i’ll do that, no problem, but why all these rules?” but you knew the question was a sensitive one when you saw the pain that immediately distorted the man’s expression.

“this is my friend’s apartment. he shared it with his girlfriend, but she… she died. no pretty way to say it. it’s still fresh, and he just doesn’t want to lose any memories, you know? he hasn't even been here since. he wants to have her to come back to when he does, even if just in the trash she left on the floor.”

you nodded in understanding - you remembered how the first time you’d changed anything up in your room your parents damn near had a breakdown, and you weren’t even really dead.

“i’m sorry for his loss. i’ll do my best not to change anything up unless absolutely necessary. thank you for letting me stay here even though it’s hard. i know it is.” and because your voice sounded like you genuinely understood yunho got curious about you, this stranger that had rented the apartment from two strange men by herself, for several weeks in a row, seemingly willing to accept whatever rules and regulations he’d put up. he knew it’d be inappropriate to ask about you when he’d barely just met you, though, so he stayed silent, nodding at you.

“just in case something’s wrong you can always text me, or call me if it’s urgent, same number as when we last called. i hope this’ll be okay for you.”

it felt like the two of you were nodding at least as much as you were talking, you moving your head in acknowledgment again.

“anyway, i’ll go now. check up on my friend.”

“tell him thank you for letting me stay here.”

“yeah.” and with that, he left.

when you settled on the couch you felt a weird kind of familiarity, a familiarity you hadn’t felt a single time ever since you woke up again. you didn’t understand why, had no conscious recollection of this place, knew you’d never been here before. still, it felt like you knew it, knew these surroundings. the feeling was weird, kind of uncomfortable and scary, but you decided to ignore it in favour of going to sleep.

//

mingi had sent yunho to check up on the apartment every single day, to make sure that the stranger he still hadn’t met wasn’t wreaking havoc and destroying the only remembrance of her physical presence he still had. but day after day his friend told him that it seemed like you kept your promise to not change anything up, like you’d barely even touched anything at all. the couch was changed, of course, and you’d also used the bathroom and the kitchen, but both yunho and mingi were surprised at the fact that you always used the same set of cutlery, the same plate, the same towel. you’d gotten your own dish soap, your own laundry detergent, because you didn’t even want to risk emptying the ones she’d bought back then. you were careful, attentive and compassionate, and it made mingi curious to get to know you. he knew he’d not be able to see you in the apartment, so he asked yunho to ask you to meet up with the two of them in some café, just because he was curious and he wanted to ask if you were still comfortable at his place that didn’t feel like his anymore now that she was gone.

he was a little nervous about it, just because you might ask questions and because you might dig in his past and because being face to face with the person that was living where she used to live might cause emotions he’d more or less successfully suppressed by now to resurface. but his friend had convinced him that at least from your part there was nothing to fear, that you’d been more considerate of the situation than even most of their friends had been.

//

you were nervous when yunho asked you to meet in some café, because you didn’t know the second man at all, hadn’t even been told his name yet because the blond always just referred to him as ‘his friend’. you wanted to leave a good impression, so you got a little dressed up, though not too much because that’d be inappropriate as hell considering the other man had just lost his girlfriend not too long ago. it was just subtle makeup and clothes that were a bit fancier than your usual ripped jeans and oversized t-shirt, opting for ripped jeans and a cropped top instead. it was all black, not even on purpose but because you felt most comfortable in dark clothes, and after you’d spent half an hour overthinking if your outfit was appropriate or if you should wear something else you finally left.

it wasn’t hard finding the café - it was close to where you lived now, and while it wasn’t too fancy it wasn’t too hidden away, either, so that you weren’t left looking around for some secret entrance for an hour as you’d feared you would be. you entered carefully, scanning the café for the blond man whose face you could easily recognise by now by how often he’d visited you to check up on both you and the apartment, and it only took about a minute to spot him. then, your eyes fell upon the tall male next to him, and you felt the same weird kind of familiarity that had become your constant companion in the apartment. you knew there was no way you knew him, and you knew that this was probably just the desire to finally know something again, remember something again. still, you surprised yourself when you opened your mouth and yelled for him.

“mingi!”

[udunie]

(anon submission)

hmm more weird omega au brainstorming semi-based off your any-hole-goes Hale breeding program fic =D This got, uh, a little extreme?

At fourteen, omegas graduate from regular school and go to special omega universities where they pick an omegan specialty to study, generally completing their studies by eighteen, when they are then presented to society at a structured graduation/debutante auction

‘Pick’ might be a strong word to use - most omegas don’t pick their area of study, their family alphas do

Stiles’ mom was an endangered species / wildlife advocate and professional, working with reserves and zoos all over the world to help with rehabilitation and re-population efforts. After she died, Stiles’ dad decided that he was going to dedicate their omega son (in this au, you can tell immediately if a baby is alpha/beta/omega) to her work when the time came

Stiles is on board with this idea - he remembers lots of happy times with his mom and some cute baby animal that needed constant watch and regular bottle feedings (Stiles’ mom would tell him it was good practice for when he was older and had his own babies), so when he’s enrolled in a distant omega university that trains omegas for vet, farm, wildlife, zoo, or other animal-centered work, he’s ready. Stiles’ dad selects animal wifery, platinum tier, with a focus on endangered species

Stiles is not ready

Platinum-tier endangered animal wifery is an unusual branch in that it’s a breeding program that utilizes *all* an omega’s resources

Over the next four years, Stiles

1) has his urethra and bladder opening stretched to the highest legal diameter with a permanent hollow sound (really a circle of very thin, rigid ribs with a thin layer of silicon between them so it was as soft as possible while still holding his urethra open) installed that locks into place via a bulbed head just inside his bladder that is equipped with monitoring equipment on one end and a slightly flared opening with two hinged pieces that fold down and around his cockhead, clicking together just under it, and held together with two piercings that screw in to the sound walls but do not go through. A silicon insert hangs on a fine chain from the piercings and can be used to seal the sound opening shut. There are lots of species of snakes, amphibians, fish, and even some aquatic bugs that reproduce in dark, warm, acidic enclosed spaces - spaces that in nature are easily and frequently destroyed by human interference or storms. An omega’s bladder is quite safe, and the monitoring equipment ensures safe and healthy egg development

(Stiles’ final project in this 'class’ was helping facilitate the mating of an extremely rare tropical snake pair - both snakes were first coaxed into Stiles’ bladder, where they copulated and the female snake lived until she laid her eggs. Stiles had to be on a special diet for the duration of the project, as well as strapped to a special bench that held his torso, hips, and legs utterly still with his cock lined up at the ideal angle and his sound opening fitted to the snakes’ enclosure, all of which ensured that he did not hurt or upset either snake in any way. The sound opened up under water in the enclosure, so while Stiles’ bladder didn’t get over-full at any point it also never emptied. The snakes spent a lot of time going in and out of him before mating)

2) has his primary womb rated to exotics - extra large. This took all four years invested in stretching his vaginal canal and uterus without doing improper damage to the supporting muscles, stretching his abdomen, widening his pelvic bone and opening, and several surgeries to remove ribs that would constrict larger babies and reinforce his spine to carry the weight. The hormone treatment that convinced his body this was how it was meant to be shaped came with the added bonus of increasing his sensitivity and pleasure receptors by a lot

(His final project and the reason he was rated to extra large over the more standard large was he successfully carried a pygmy rhino calf to term - an eighteen month pregnancy - despite the fact that it grew slightly larger than it was meant to. Stiles came eighteen times during labor thanks to the hormone treatment, and it was that extra relaxation and lubrication that stopped him from needed a c-section)

3) has his secondary womb rated to exotics - canine and feline. This needs the least work, though he’s given treatment to increase his slick production and strengthen his knot-locking muscles so he can hold the knot of any smaller or distracted studs. For feline breedings, he wears a sheath that protects his ass from their spines. The program also develops eight teats down his front, though when he carries an extra-large pregnancy the bottom four leak constantly due to the pressure

(Stiles interns with a local tiger conservatory during his studies, and whenever possible carries litters for them - apparently not all omegas are able to, making him very valuable to the university and earning him a very good grade at all levels)

4) Warning: super fucked up ahead – has surgery to separate his esophagus and trachea into two separate tubes, stretch his esophagus, install a feeding small tube, and split his tongue - this is actually an elective program that the university gets approval from Stiles’ dad for early on when they realized Stiles was suited to it, and is the only currently known way for a species of extremely rare salamanders to reproduce in captivity. The female salamander lives in Stiles’ throat, head and mating organs (slightly below their head, interestingly) in his mouth. Once a month, the male salamander squeezes into Stiles’ mouth as well, and in the space between the two halves of Stiles’ tongue, breeds its partner. The female salamander cannot lay her eggs without help - Stiles has to swallow until they have all been worked down and into his stomach, where the eggs stay until they hatch and the baby salamanders crawl out of his body via his intestines and ass (one of the reasons his secondary womb is not significantly altered).

Stiles earns his degree with flying colours, and at his graduation/debutante auction his dad decides to enter him under a temporary ownership clause - it’s less money, but this way he can continue to auction Stiles off to whomever needs his omega skills the most rather that him serving a single program. Later he decides to just auction Stiles’ parts - so long as the pregnancies are not competing, difference conservation efforts can use Stiles as he becomes available

His mother would be so proud of all the species Stiles is helping save

*******

Udunie: 

Holy shit nonnie, I love your brain?????????????

I love everything about this, but also, may I suggest (cause while I love the salamander idea, it feels a bit awkward to me):

Ppl don’t actually ‘need’ to have a stomach, meaning that you can be ‘fed’ by enemas, your intestines do the most work in absorbing nutrients anyway. So. What if his stomach was completely removed and instead he was given a third womb??? (lets say, the university’s medical department is able to use cells from an omega to create a womb that wouldn’t be rejected by his body?) his esophagus is still separated. Or even better (for my personal tastes) he has a nasal tube inserted that goes right to his lungs, so he can breath even when his esophagus is clogged. Anyway, he gets his third womb where his stomach is, gets his esophagus stretched as much as they can, and it’s used to breed smaller species (as in, smaller at birth, but maybe at the same time, species with large litter numbers???)

Fun fact I just googled! Arctic foxes have the largest mammal litters with a size ranging from 5 to 25 pups!!! They are pretty small when they are born, small enough that Stiles can just retch them up when they are ready to be born :D

[highqueenofelfhame]

when we were kids, seven.

warning: this chapter contains scenes of sexual content only suitable for viewers 18+. viewer discretion is advised. enjoy. 

ROWAN

“Please call me,” her voice had sounded so broken and desperate in the last one, but somehow almost hopeful in a way that twisted the knife in his gut even harder. He had signed her papers, Rowan just didn’t know why she kept calling. It was like having it rubbed in his face, that he’d lost her. The only thing in the world he’d sworn to the gods, he had done it so effortlessly. Without even trying, really. And now she just wouldn’t leave him alone. 

There had never been a single second of any day over the last eight years, nine months, and 26 days that he stopped loving her. Even through all the heartbreak, even through how godsdamned painful it had been when he came home to everything gone, he loved her through all of it. He loved her when he watched her first role, her second, and her third. He loved her while watching her romance with her agent blossom in the tabloids. Rowan loved her still when her engagement got out and she showed up at his house being a complete bitch about the divorce. For every second that he had known her since he was three years old, he loved her. And thinking that it was about time to let go was absolutely destroying him in ways he never knew. 

So hearing her voice so broken in the newest voicemail was like being skinned alive. She was hurting somehow and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. It wasn’t his job anymore. Aelin had someone new. Aelin made her choice and now he would have to learn to deal with it. 

But that didn’t make it easy. 

The front door knob jiggling, the lock clicking, and the door being thrown open interrupted his thoughts completely. The spitfire herself came storming in, barely giving him half a glance as she headed to the second bedroom that housed her belongings.

“What,” he said dryly, “are you doing?”

“A grand gesture. Turns out that you and I are still hitched,” she called over her shoulder, rummaging around in that bedroom. His eyes fell closed, the memory of signing the papers vivid in his mind. He’d just about had a nightmare every damn night since he signed them… which meant the mistake had been on her end. 

When he finally forced his body into motion, finally made himself enter that room, she was half zipped up in the wedding dress she’d worn when they were younger. Despite eight years it fit her like a glove, ivory satin and lace clinging to her figure to where it pooled at the floor. One of the inch-wide straps was hanging off her shoulder, her chest rising and falling heavily as she appraised him over her shoulder.

“You kept telling me to go home? Well, here I am.” She was gesturing behind her back, silently telling him to zip her up and he stepped forward, fingertips toying with the zipper before finally pulling it down.

“And why would you want to be married to me anyway?” He said slowly, turning over those words she’d said twenty years ago with her hands on her hips and her eyes as wild as her heart. 

Aelin looked at him, every bit as wild as she had been back then and took his face in her hands despite the satin straps limiting her range of motion as they fell down her arms. She looked into his heart and soul and reached up on her toes so that their lips were barely brushing in a whisper of a kiss as she said, “So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

And then they were kissing, and he felt like for the first time in eight years he was awake, he was alive. Everything suddenly made sense, all the puzzle pieces had fallen into place and gods above he could breathe. 

Rowan carried her to his bed and gently set her down then sat back on his knees to take her in. He reached out and  traced her swollen lips as her wide crystal clear eyes looked back up at him. There was something so sensual and sexy about her laying there, the straps of the dress half down her arms, bra fully exposed and satin crinkled from him laying her down. He kissed her again, unable to resist that perfect, full mouth that he wanted desperately to coax sinful sounds from. 

Sitting back, his hands ran up her legs under the dress until his fingers found the lace of her panties and tugged them down, disposing of them behind him on the floor. Aelin’s teeth ran over her bottom lip, and he wasted no time in pushing the dress up to bunch it around her hips. Despite how bad he wanted her completely bare and open before him, Aelin in the dress she had married him in years later was flooding him with desire he hadn’t known since he last had her. She had barely been a woman then, though, and he barely a man. And now when he pulled his shirt over his head it was evident in the way her eyes blew wide with desire that she was thinking something similar. 

She reached out and ran her fingers over his stomach, tracing the lines of his abdomen with cool fingertips until she hooked one finger under the waistband of his jeans. But Rowan hadn’t even started with her yet, so he shook his head and settled between her legs with a kiss to her stomach. 

A kiss that meant so much more than lips pressed against skin, and her fingers gently caressing his cheek told him she understood. 

Rowan continued his descent, not stopping until his lips were wrapped around the most sensitive parts of her and her fingers were in his hair, her voice begging him not to stop. And he didn’t stop, not until she was coming completely undone and doing her best to push him away but he didn’t relent until she was shaking and too sensitive to be touched anywhere below her waist. Then, and only then, did he sit up and pull that dress off of her, did he throw away the flimsy material covering her breasts, did he finally stand at the foot of the bed and remove the rest of his own clothing. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed, running a hand from her neck down her stomach, running both hands down her thighs. “Every single inch of you,” and he claimed her mouth with his, lingering and slow kisses that told her that he had every intention of taking his time with her. Rowan was in no hurry. He hadn’t had his love for almost nine years and was determined to make the most of every single second. 

When he settled between her hips and nudged at her entrance, the feeling alone of just her was almost too much to handle. The heady scent of sex combined with what only could be described as Aelin had him so high that if you had asked him, he would have told you he didn’t know why people did drugs. Not when this existed, when he had this to tumble into every night. He’d swear he didn’t even need to taste alcohol or the finest desserts ever again. She would do. Everything in her face told him it was exactly the same for her, she was just as high as he was. 

And then he was sliding into her and both of them were gasping, her nails digging harshly into his back in a way that felt almost too good. It was an effort to go slow, to drag it out the way he wanted but he was determined, and the longer he thrust in and out of her the more intimate the moment became until the intimacy was a palpable, crackling thing. 

Their cheeks were wet and he wasn’t sure when either of them had started crying, but they were. And as they barreled over the edge together, twice, it was too much. Emotionally it was too much, physically he felt more tired than he’d felt in years and that included all the sleepless nights he’d spent staring at her damn photo like it would bring her back. 

Rowan looked over at her then, shifted onto his side to reach out and brush her sweat coated hair from her forehead. He’d somehow never had a choice when it came to Aelin, it was always her. But choice or no choice, he would have still chosen her anyway. Looking at her now, he knew she felt the same. 

“I love you,” she said, her voice thick. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes as she rolled to face him, to kiss him fully. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come home.” But he shook his head and kissed her fingertips before he sat up fully and reached for his shirt which he handed over to her. 

“I want to show you something.” 

@starseternalnighttriumphant @musicmaam @city-of-fae @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @tangledraysofsunshine  @lorcansalvaterree @valarian-trash @hey-its-grey​ @sleeping-and-books​ @thephilosophyofblank​ @breezyfreezey @westofmoon​ @tonystarksbish​ @mariamuses​ @thereaderandfangirl​ @silvermindedwarrior @rosesandglass​ @xxhopelesspeachesxx​ @maraadyyer @flowerspringsea​ @the-bookloving-girl​ @vartineh @mis-lil-red @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​ @dreamcatchersimss​ @chemicha​ @vi0let-femmes​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @dressedindustandshadows @lowhangingtreebranches @bamchickawowow​

@damnthisjam

[mikeyhatesit113]

forever and never: Chapter 12

My Toyota Matrix speeds down the highway, leaving the New York City skyline behind us in the rear view mirror. Janie sits in the passenger seat, admiring the engagement ring I had given to her just hours before in Times Square.

Ahead of us, the sun sinks slowly toward the horizon. Everything about that day had been perfect, and it was sending us off with a beautiful sunset. I felt proud as Janie smiled genuinely at her ring, knowing in my heart that I had treated her like a true princess that day.

“It’s beautiful,” she says. “I love you.”

I look over at her with a smile as wide as the Brooklyn Bridge itself.

“I love you too,” I say, pride swelling in my chest.

“Forever and ever,” she says.

“Plus a day,” I whisper.

2 Years Later

Janie and I step onto our front porch step, anticipation building in my chest. I had not been home in more than 3 weeks, and I had no idea what awaited me on the other side of the front door.

I had spent sleepless nights at my grandmother’s house, mental images torturing me during the night. Wicked animations produced by an imagination hell-bent on punishing me. Images that took place in the very dwelling I was about to re-enter for the first time in over 21 days.

Janie opens the door, and I take in the scene before me.

The smell hit me first. The scent was unfamiliar, as if something else had inhabited the place since my abrupt departure.

Stale cologne?

What was more, the furniture had been rearranged. The kitchen looked different, decorated with additional chairs and flat surfaced stands.

It was at that moment when I noticed that Janie was studying me, awaiting my reaction to the many changes to the place I had previously called home.

This, however, did not look like home. This was a foreign place, accented by a foreign occupant who was hiding in plain sight.

But what, or who, I could not put my finger on.

I forced a smile, hugging Janie. Though I did not recognize this environment, another part of me desperately wanted to call it home again.

Janie gave me a tour, which proved to be an orientation into her new world. A universe she had constructed in my absence, but a galaxy I was almost certain that she did not build alone.

“Wow,” I mumbled as we trudged up the stairs to the bedrooms. Brock’s room looked almost untouched, but James’ room yielded a big difference.

There was now a ball python resting in a tank beside his TV.

“Who’s snake?” I asked.

“Steppenwolf’s,” Janie said anxiously. “He brought it as a gift for the boys,” she quickly explained.

“He stayed here?” I asked, a familiar irritation arising in my chest, despite my best efforts.

“Only when the boys wanted him to, for a sleepover,” she replied.

“Oh,” I said. I immediately felt trapped again, like I was going against everything I had tried to stand for. I felt outraged. I felt like I had been violated.

I felt sick.

“And uh, where did he sleep?” I asked.

“Downstairs on the couch,” she said. “He didn’t stay here often.”

“And where did you sleep when you went to his house?” I asked.

“On his couch or in a spare room,” she replied as a matter-of-factly.

I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her. It was the only way this could work.

“Ok...” I spoke, trying to shove her truth down my throat.

I hoped to God that he didn’t see the inside of our bedroom, which in fact, had also been transformed during my absence.

My brand new queen-size bed was long gone, currently locked up in a dark storage unit. In its place was a twin bed with a frame that creaked, and a mattress with springs that groaned. Additionally, the right side of our room was lit up with a red light that glowed from another large reptile tank which housed a lizard.

That night, I slept warily beside her in that crimson-lit room. I laid awake, wondering what I didn’t know. Wondering what she wasn’t telling me. Wondering if I was making the right decision.

I certainly didn’t have the support from my friends and family, who were incredulous that I returned to her embrace.

“I just want your support and friendship right now,” I texted my friend one day. “You got it,” he wrote back.

His response was not what I was looking for, but did he have the right words to make me feel like I was doing the right thing?

No one did, but in the effort of leaving no stone unturned, everyone’s opinion could not matter.

This was my journey, and no one else’s footsteps or words could complete the distance for me. I had to do it myself, whether it was 3 days, 3 weeks, or forever and ever, just like we had always promised eachother.

Logistically, the tricky task was moving the right amount of stuff back home to Janie and I’s place. I was not ready to empty my room at my Grandmother’s house, nor did I touch my storage unit.

They had been safe zones, and as happy as I was to be back home, I was still rather uncomfortable. I wanted to take it slow, if there was a such thing for a married couple.

Of course, there were other things returned. Janie drove with me to my grandmother’s house one Sunday afternoon to grab one of the things she had missed the most; her Lancer.

In the Lancer’s absence, her father had bought her a $300 mid-1990’s Oldsmobile that had an oil leak problem. It did not have a 6-disc CD player, but it did have a cassette player with cracked vinyl seats.

Call it vintage appeal, if you will. A time machine back to the 1990’s on 4 wheels.

I remember handing Janie the car key to the Lancer and her excitedly hopping in the driver seat. “I love this car,” she said, taking in the interior all over again as if it were the first time ever.

When the boys came home from their father’s house that evening, it was the reunion I was looking forward to most. I hugged them both, telling them both how much I had missed them. As far as I was concerned, I was back for good. And they’d never feel that pain again.

I did have unfinished business, however. I had seen enough photos of the boys sporting fedora hats, indicating that Steppenwolf had bought them their very own wacky hats. I did not appreciate these photos, so one afternoon, I found his Facebook.

I simply sent him this:

:)

It wasn’t long before he answered me.

“Hello?” he responded.

I couldn’t resist myself.

“I want to thank you for trying to take care of a family that wasn’t yours, and I hope you kept the receipt from whatever costume shop you bought those ridiculous hats from.”

“That purple sports car will never fill the void.”

“How does it feel to be an empty old man?”

“What’s wrong, Steppenwolf? Answer me.”

Steppenwolf did not respond, and I was blocked shortly thereafter.

Janie, however, was not happy that I had attacked Steppenwolf. When I told her about what I had sent him, she told me that she already knew I had done so, and that she just wanted me to leave it alone.

Nothing had happened between them. He had been just a friend.

Upon our reunion, Janie and I agreed to participate in marriage counseling. One October evening, our pastor showed up to our home and ate a nice dinner with us. Afterwards, with the cool, Autumn air flowing through the screen door near the kitchen table, Janie and I sat across from each other as our pastor looked on from the side.

We had each written down our concerns on a piece of paper, and it didn’t take long before the dialogue spun out of control.

In my endeavor to overlook so much and ignore so many little details, I could not bring myself to believe that she hadn’t lied to me. That she hadn’t kissed one of my best friends.

That she hadn’t betrayed me.

That I wasn’t her fool.

I guess in the end, even though I felt worthless, I owed myself some semblance of the truth.

I felt the conversation turn against me, and our pastor was soon siding with Janie about my paranoia. He hadn’t lived the nights I had, and he hadn’t seen the dark shadows drift in and out of our lives for the past 2 years.

Specters of betrayal. Phantoms that she denied ever existed.

Ghosts and goblins that haunted the life I thought we’d build.

Secrets that wouldn’t stay dead. Rotting corpses that wouldn’t stay buried.

“Michael,” our pastor chuckled. “You have these...construction crews...in your head,” he spoke. “And they build things out of these thoughts you have,” he said, laughing softly. Janie sat beside him, smirking at me.

I’ll never forget the smug look on her face as she stared at me, enjoying the fact that another human being had taken her at her word.

Nothing happened. He’s angry. He’s paranoid.

I couldn’t take it. I had tried to suppress it, bury it, destroy it, even...but the rage had returned. I stood up abruptly from my chair, anger coursing through my veins.

So many friends and family had contributed to my mental health over the past weeks, and this is how I repaid them? This is how I rewarded myself?

Being mocked by my pastor and my wife during marriage counseling?

“You sit there,” I bellowed, pointing a finger at her. “Laughing at me, looking down on me from your pedestal? Trust me, hunny, I’m looking down on you. I have nothing for you.”

I went to walk away, but my pastor called me back to the table.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ekim,” he said. “Where are you going? Get back to this table.”

I returned to the table slowly, staring at Janie. Her smirk was gone, replaced by a poisonous look of revulsion. I echoed her emotion.

We truly were toxic.

Of course, that counseling session was the start of the downward slope. More odd occurrences around the house sparked more questions and suspicions.

Like the Earl Grey Teabags on the counter, and the Syracuse hoodie I found in the wash basket one morning while I was folding clothes.

Janie was not a tea drinker, nor was she a Syracuse fan. Janie wasn’t home at that time, so I texted her a picture of the hoodie with the simple question, “What’s this?”

“Uh, a Syracuse hoodie,” she responded.

“I get that. Why do you have a Syracuse hoodie?” I texted.

“My family lived in Syracuse for a little bit when I was a little girl,” she texted back.

This was a blatant lie. Her family had never lived in Syracuse, much less another county.

Janie and I hobbled on, but our legs were giving out. The fighting soon made a vengeful comeback, and our tempers boiled over one rainy day.

I struggled with the lies. I struggled with the stories. I struggled with the person I had become. I hated him. I hated what I saw in the mirror. I hated his guts.

I hated what I did to Jay, now that I was at some capacity to understand it years later.

My mood became tense, and the suspicions only increased.

In the kitchen one day, we locked horns. Janie was making dinner when an argument started. It would be futile to try to tell you exactly regarding what, as I cannot remember due to the violent maelstrom we were trapped in. The reasons for conflict and discord were abundant and vicious. Pick one.

After a venomous word exchange, Janie slammed the casserole dish down on the stove top, cracking it. I turned away and marched out the front door into the pouring rain. I unlocked my car, sobbing as I flung open the door and sat in the driver seat.

I had not noticed Janie following me, and she came into my view as I shoved my key into the ignition.

“Where are you going?” she pleaded.

I didn’t plan to say it, and to be honest, I didn’t even know I felt it like I did.

But it came from the heart.

“I fucking hate my life,” I cried, looking her in the eyes. She stared back at me pitifully, the cold rain drops falling on both of us as we took each other in.

Who were we? What had we become?

How had our house of cards collapsed like this? We thought we were the exception.

We hobbled on.

One sunny Saturday morning before Halloween, we were ready to go to a pumpkin patch. However, before walking out the door, I noticed that James was apprehensive.

Everyone else had walked out to the car, and I seized the moment to address James alone.

“James, what’s wrong?” I asked, walking up to him and kneeling down.

“I’m afraid you’re going to leave again,” he said, looking at the ground.

I was taken aback, but I was encouraged all the same.

“James, I love you, your brother, and your mommy very much,” I said. “I love you, and I’m not going to leave you,” I assured him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I promise, I’m here for good.”

After Halloween, we saw another November 1st arrive. Our anniversary, a day we hailed for years as the day we found eachother.

A day, 5 years earlier, that changed both of our lives forever.

A day I had progressively become more and more ashamed of.

I gave her the gift I had gotten her, a flashy trinket with the engraving, “Forever and ever”.

As soon as she opened it, I could tell she was expecting more. Another disappointing gift on another day we had no reason to celebrate.

Little did I know, that November 1st would be our last.

This is where I’m going to ask you to dig in your memory bank and pull out a date. A date I asked you to remember many chapters ago.

A date with more significance and karma than you could guess.

November 4th.

Welcome to the End.

“Passion or coincidence, Once prompted you to say, "Pride will tear us both apart". Well, now pride's gone out the window, Cross the rooftops, Run away... Left me in the vacuum of my heart.

What is happening to me? Crazy, some'd say. Where is my friend when I need you most? Gone away.”

Duran Duran “Ordinary World”

NOTE: Though this is my side of the story, including my own personal recollections and opinions, the reader should not consider this note anything other than a work of literature. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

[bcbdrums]

Heat Wave

For @drakgoprompts #7 “heat wave.”  Have a short fic.

FFn Link

AO3 Link

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It was past eleven o'clock at night. They had spent nearly all day moving into the new canyon lair in whatever US state Drakken had dragged them to, and they were only just finishing unloading the last of their belongings from the moving van. But it was still over one-hundred degrees.

Shego had given up nearly thirty minutes before Drakken, recognizing the health risks with all the heavy work they'd been doing hauling boxes and crates in the stifling heat. But Drakken had, as was typical, become fixated on completing the task and was still bringing in boxes from the rented moving van.

"Drakken..." she said tiredly, fanning herself with a magazine that was irritating to hold with how much even her hands were sweating. "Stop. That's enough."

"There are only two more boxes, Shego," he said simply, not even looking up as he heavily placed the box he held near the pile. He turned to leave, and Shego frowned in worry at his sweat-soaked hair. He had also ignored her insistence that he take off his lab coat.

She herself had already stripped out of her suit, hopped in the shower, and after just a quick rinse that did basically nothing due to the thick heat inside the new lair, had donned her thinnest and very expensive linen-cotton blend nightgown. It was sleeveless, and the red earth-toned fabric scooped low below her neck where two buttons had been added for style.

She stood up from her beach chair and got another one out of the large box she'd ripped open, unfolding it and setting it right next to the last box Drakken had dropped. Then after pulling her ponytail higher she flopped back into her tiny chair, wishing there were some way to be cooler. The plumbing was turned on, but it was an older style lair and there was no air conditioning. Only a swamp cooler in the lab and another in the master bedroom.

The henchmen would either quit or demand a pay raise if made to sleep in that ridiculous place.

Drakken came back with both of the small boxes in his arms. Shego could see the quiver of his fingers as he gripped what was too much weight, and she quickly rose again to help him. She lifted the first box down and he visibly relaxed, though the sweat dripping down his face didn't do much for making him appear relieved. The boxes had been barely set down before she took charge of the situation.

"Doc, you're going to get sick. You've got to get out of those clothes."

"Shego, I—"

He didn't get the chance to argue as she nimbly went after the hidden buttons of his lab coat. Once she was pulling his belt off she realized he wasn't fighting her. Or helping. Or even talking. She looked up to find him staring at her attire.

She might have rolled her eyes if she wasn't so worried about the possibility of his getting heat stroke.

"Take your gloves off!" she demanded. He snapped back to attention and complied, albeit slower than she would have liked.

She yanked his coat down his arms and he stumbled into the chair she'd set up for him as she tossed the coat aside. She could feel the heat radiating from the garment as it left her hands, and she grabbed a warm water bottle from the floor and shoved it into Drakken's chest before returning to her chair and fanning herself again.

"You're not indestructible, you know. When's the last time you sat down in the last five hours since we got here?"

Drakken didn't answer as he was guzzling the water. Shego studied his dark pants, clearly causing him discomfort by the way he was wiggling in the chair. His hair was plastered to the skin of his forehead and neck, and when he lifted his free hand to wipe it away it fell back again like black pieces of wet straw.

Shego was about to chastise him again when he set the water bottle down and began unbuttoning his shirt. She frowned at the fact that he'd even worn a button-down under his coat when he'd known they'd be moving. Of course, the coat itself was ridiculous. But he insisted on wearing it every day.

He tossed his shirt aside and picked up the half-empty water bottle and began drinking the rest of it. Shego noted how the white tank top he still wore was almost completely drenched in sweat, clinging to his frame, and the way his arms seemed to look...more toned, as he tilted his head back and tried to get the very last drops of water into his mouth. His bicep seemed to tremble just from the effort of holding the empty plastic bottle to his lips.

He'd overdone it.

"Drakken..." she said. He looked up as he tossed the empty bottle to the earthen loor. His eyes were alert, but everything else about him spoke exhaustion. "Bed. Now. Actually shower first, then bed."

Drakken blinked, allowing the tiredness to seep into his eyes. He looked her over.

"Have you always had that...nightgown?"

Shego let a small smile out as she smoothed the red garment over her thighs, the hem falling just to her knees as she stood and crossed the short space between them.

"I bought it in town while you were asking for directions," she said, grabbing his arm and hauling him up. His skin was glistening from the sweat and was hot to the touch.

"It's nice," he said as she hauled him toward the master bedroom.

"Thanks," she said distractedly, concerned by how much heat he was giving off.

When they reached the empty bedroom she let go of him and gave him a slight push toward the Roman shower. She watched him glance at her discarded clothing on the ground from when she showered, the single gray towel on the rack, and then turn to face her.

"Why is the shower in the bedroom?"

"It's a Roman shower... Do you mean you didn't look at the listing before you bought this lair?"

Drakken glanced away sheepishly. Shego groaned and rolled her eyes. When Drakken looked back up he was blushing and looked nervous, like he wanted to say something.

"Just...ugh."

Shego turned and left, returning to the room piled with boxes and now Drakken's coat, shirt, and gloves. She flopped back in her beach chair in frustration. The weather had made her hot enough without her then having to look at Drakken in the sweat-dampened tank top that clung to his skin. And imagining him showering in that Roman shower didn't help either...

She fanned herself with the magazine again as she frowned in her frustration. She and Drakken had been...dating? For two months. Or rather, had declared their mutual interest in each other... But the only real change in their dynamic had been his allowing her nearer to him, such as taking off his coat without asking as she'd done that night. And they had been on two actual dates. And she had plucked up the courage to kiss his cheek once in the lab...right before the lair had been destroyed by Kim Possible, necessitating their purchase of the canyon lair.

She wanted him to make a move. Any move at all. She had been excited upon her quick tour of the lair earlier that day to see there was really only one bedroom worthy of either of them. She'd assumed it meant he was done being shy about what a 'dating' relationship could mean. But given his apparent anxiety about the shower, it appeared that she'd been wrong.

She had been more than ready from almost the first day to be as close as he wanted to be. The only problem was...he didn't seem to want to be close. He'd been smiling at her more, and she'd caught him staring countless times...and he was less and less shy about that. But she wanted more. For two months she had been patient for his sake, since he hadn't taken well to her early attempts at a make-out.

She let her eyes fall out of focus as she stared at the heap of his lab coat and shirt, still fanning herself. She was dripping sweat again, just as Drakken had been before she'd sent him off. And then...

"Shego?"

She was startled by his voice sounding from across the room, soft and anxious. She peered at where half of his face was peering around the corner.

"What?"

"Would you mind...that is...I didn't bring a change of clothes in here. And...the towel you used is still damp."

Shego blinked at him. He took a slight step nearer to the corner and a lot of blue suddenly entered her field of vision. He had the dark gray towel around his waist, but that was all, as he stood half-concealed by the red-orange stone wall. She sighed and was about to ask him what clothes he would like, when he spoke again.

"So if you could...um...go someplace else, while I look for something to wear?"

Shego felt her heart race, and her lower lip tremble. She wordlessly threw her magazine down where it hit the floor with a loud slap and she stood from the chair, striding toward the open cavernous entrance to the lair.

The heat increased when she stepped out of the lair and into the open night air. She scowled as she saw the back door of the moving van still open, and she stepped over to slam it closed, not minding the coarse dirt under her bare feet. The last thing they needed was for the battery to die before they could return it.

She leaned against the vehicle and looked up at the starry sky as sweat dripped down the side of her face.

Drakken...must have changed his mind. He wasn't interested in her after all. Or else he would have done something to show her he was interested, besides taking her to dinner and being generally more welcoming of her presence... His admiring stares were just friendly. Nothing more.

As she lifted a hand to wipe the moisture from her face she couldn't tell what was sweat and what was tears. What was she still doing with him, if he didn't return her feelings? She was more than simply interested... She was... She...

She closed her eyes and turned to lean on her hip, the sweat of her back beginning to dampen her nightgown where it had been pressed against the van. She supposed she would have to sleep in one of the un-ventilated henchmen's rooms that night... Or she could force Drakken to sleep in one of them. That would show him.

...Unless he was actually ill from the heat, in which case she wanted him to have the swamp cooler.

"Shego?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice and quickly wiped her face, hoping any traces of tears would just look like sweat. She tossed the hair of her ponytail over one shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly realizing just how revealing the new nightgown was.

'That's why you bought it...'

"What?" she snapped, much too harshly.

Drakken took a step back. He was wearing his pajama pants, but no shirt. Shego swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and refused to let her eyes linger on his arms or his chest.

When he spoke his tone was anxious, and his gaze confused. Shego felt instantly remorseful of the tone she'd taken. It wasn't his fault he wasn't interested...

"Since it's so hot, and this lair really only has the one usable bedroom, I was thinking it might be better to drive into town for the night and...get rooms at a motel. They should have air conditioning," he suggested.

Shego bit the inside of her cheek and forced her face to stay expressionless.

"S-sure," she forced out past the lump in her throat.

The look of confusion on Drakken's face grew. She didn't dare say more with her emotions so on edge.

"Don't you...want to come back in and get dressed before we leave?"

Shego bit her cheek harder. She pushed off the side of the van and walked forward. Drakken walked by her side back into the lair.

She glanced at him as he set his hands on his hips, obviously trying to air out his armpits and prevent any part of his body touching that would generate more sweat. The lair...really was unlivable. It was no wonder Drakken had been able to buy it so fast and for such a low price. They really should just load up everything and leave...

"Or," Shego heard herself say as she stopped walking, her eyes on Drakken's chiseled shoulders despite herself. "You know, we could just...share the bedroom. Since it has the swamp cooler."

Drakken looked at her curiously. "I don't think both of our beds can fit in there," he said uncertainly.

Shego looked away quickly so he couldn't see her embarrassed frown.

'Idiot...'

"Just...rrgh, never-mind. You're right, motel it is. I'll be ready in five."

She continued briskly into the lair, her heart feeling like it was beating out of her throat. Why had she said something so foolish?

She picked up the hem of the nightgown to fan herself briefly when suddenly she felt a too-warm hand grab one of hers. She turned in surprise and tried to pull her hand away, but Drakken only tightened his grip. His expression was unreadable as he stared at her.

"That wasn't...what you meant," he said, shaking his head lightly, "was it."

It was a statement rather than a question. She merely shook her head as the lump in her throat grew. Might as well be honest about it...if everything was just going to fall apart anyway...

Drakken took a step closer to her, lifting their joined hands up between them. And then his other hand was on her cheek, tilting her face up toward his. All of Shego's thoughts of discomfort from the heat vanished as Drakken's lips met hers.

The kiss was soft and chaste. And yet it ignited a fire inside her hotter than anything she'd ever felt. She thought she would melt away or else burst into flame, for what the gentle kiss did to her. Her arm went around his waist and she pulled herself flush against the heat of his bare chest.

That was when his lips left hers, and she found herself staring at him hungrily as his eyes darted calculatingly around their new, empty lair. Shego suddenly realized the secondary wisdom of a hotel, as the only furniture set up at all in the new lair were the two beach chairs.

"We need to set up a bed," he muttered, his eyes falling on the round mattress leaned up against one of the walls.

Shego only half-heard him as she let go of his hand and slowly slid her arm up around his neck. His eyes snapped back to hers and he slowly gave her a shy, nervous smile. She watched a bead of sweat drip off the end his nose before she brought her lips to his again, this time throwing caution to the wind and kissing him with all the fire burning within her.

She felt his initial uncertainty, and then his tentative response that grew more confident as his hands found her waist and gripped her flesh through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Again Shego thought her fate would be to melt into his heat or else burst into flame, for all that his kiss did to her. And as her back was suddenly pressed against one of the stone walls, she found she didn't care what her fate would be in the heat of him.

The 'why' didn't matter to her in the moment. It was the last thing on her mind she kissed him with months of repressed desire. He was still interested, and that was all she cared about. She could find out the 'why' later when they had both cooled down.

[crimefightingpigeons]

I’ve shared my head canon on how we go from Doomsday to Turn Left - your turn! What do you think happens??  - @loupettes

Welp i can confidently say it has been well over a week... but here is part 2 of my Dimension Cannon Rose story! Enjoy! 

part 1 A Brief Guide to Love and Defending the Universe 

2.

Once the realization of what was going on had sunk in, the real work began. Or at least the endless meetings did. Because even the immanent end of the world—no, wait, universe—no wait again, multiverse— was no match for a bloody meeting. But with everyone having their own opinion and no way of knowing who was right, things were getting out of hand.  

After extreme amounts of shouting, fighting, and overall chaos, though, a consensus was reached. They had determined the cause of this problem was happening in another world, so those people, that Torchwood, could deal with that. This Torchwood was going to put all its efforts into sealing off the trouble and keeping themselves safe. But Rose and Mickey knew better, and that night they went back to her flat to continue on.

“Can’t we just rebuild those jump devices?” Rose tried.

“I don’t know if those’d even work now with the void gone. ‘Sides everything from that got destroyed, would take us years to get it back to anything able to work,” Mickey refuted. Then trying himself, “what about time travel? What if we got somethin’ workin’ that could take us back to that day on the beach and at least warn the Doctor then?”

“We can’t cross our own timelines, Mickey, trust me, it’d only make things worse.”

After a night of going over and over through previously rejected and other seemingly impossible plans, the pair were ready to give in. But just in that moment, Rose got a call from Pete telling her to come over to the mansion with Mickey.

- - -

Pete Tyler, much to no one’s surprise, was not a stupid man. So when he noticed Rose’s change in attitude all those months ago, and saw piles of boxes in her old room through her accidentally cracked open door, and could see just how tired and worn down she (and later on Mickey) had become even through claims of doing nothing outside of work, he knew exactly what was going on. And he had decided to start a project of his own.

In the basement of the Tyler residence was every bit of research and equipment he had stored away and been working on from the dimension jumper project. And when Rose and Mickey saw it, their mouths properly gaped open.

“But I thought…” Mickey barely got out.

“That all this was lost? Being an ex-director of Torchwood has its perks, ya know,” Pete chuckled.

“But why didn’t you tell us about this before?” Rose asked, so completely stunned she wasn’t sure whether to be upset or not.

“I wanted to see if it would work… No use in gettin’ your hopes up if there wasn’t a reason,” he answered directly to Rose, then turning back to Mickey as well, “And then you lot just went off to Torchwood for help, as if that would do you any good! I always told you to come to me first, and I thought you’d have been smart enough to still do that. If you’d only given me another few days you’d never have had to go through all of those twats!”

“Wait so you’re saying it’s… operational?” Mickey walked around the console to investigate a bit further.

“Eh… more like pre-operational. I’ve gotten it to turn back on, but probably not much more. Mind you I haven’t exactly had anyone to test it out—” then turning back to Rose, because he knew exactly what she was about to say, “—and we’re not sending anyone through until we’re as sure as we can be its safe.”

After a brief pause of thought, Rose joined back in. “But without Torchwood, how’re we gonna do this. I mean, this is gonna need a lotta work, and we don’t exactly have the means to get it done all on our own.”

Pete smiled at his daughter. “You leave that to me. Have I mentioned the ex-director thing, yet? Got a handful of favors waitin’ for me all around the world. Figure it’s about time I cash ‘em in.”

- - -

The next year went by in a whirlwind.

Keeping his word, Pete had gathered enough resources by the very next day for the real real work to begin. Rose and Mickey continued going back and forth between work at the mansion and Torchwood with plans of phasing out the latter slowly, so to keep suspicions at bay. And Jake had eagerly joined as the official inside man on all upper level Torchwood dealings. It was exhausting, it was difficult, it was frustrating, it was impossible. But it had to be done.

Out of everyone, Rose was surely the most desperate to succeed. There wasn’t a single work session she missed or even a tiny aspect of the project she wasn’t actively involved in. Even when they were at a stand still, she would refuse to stop. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been home, couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent more than five minutes with Jackie or Tony, couldn’t even remember the last time she’d done anything but work. But none of that mattered. She had a multiverse to save… and a Doctor to get back to.

Half a year in and hundreds of destroyed testing fruits later, success had finally arrived: they were ready for the first stage of human testing on the newly named dimension cannon. Rose was of course the first to volunteer as guinea pig, but Pete and Mickey quickly nixed that. She had been the most brilliant one in the room these past months, and if anything happened to her there was a good chance the project wouldn’t make it to the next stage in time. They considered recruiting a Torchwood grunt, but that idea was pretty much chucked out the same moment it was spoken. In the end, Mickey volunteered to do the job.

Mickey stepped onto the platform, looking down at a solemn Rose. “See you in Hell,” he smiled and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Pete entered the coordinates into the console, the countdown started, the cannon powered up, the bright light filled the room, and with a loud boom, Mickey was gone.

And then he was back! Just a few feet away on the other side of the room.

“Miss me?” he smiled again.

Rose grinned back. Not only was Mickey alright, but the cannon worked! Sure it wasn’t enough to get them outside the basement, let alone the universe, but that wasn’t important right now. Rose’s mind was flooded with pure joy, and she let that feeling glow inside her for one beautiful moment before getting back to work.

With each week that passed by, the cannon was only becoming more successful. A few weeks after their first shift, they could transport themselves to the other side of the world. And a month after that, it could take them to another planet entirely. It was enough to make Rose cry, standing on a new planet once again. She took the few moments she had there to genuinely enjoy the ground beneath her feet. For all their progress, though, they knew it was the next part that would be the hardest. Jumping within your own universe was one thing, but actually getting to another… Again, they were at an impossible impasse. But they kept going.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and all they had to show for it was more scorched tester fruits. And now after so much failure, everyone was starting to get to the end of their ropes. The stars had been going out for some time now, and the world around them was just beginning to decay into madness. According to Jake, even Torchwood was out of real ideas. Rose, Mickey, and Pete knew time was running out sooner rather than later, and that they were everyone’s last hope. It had understandably turned stress levels to high and patience to zero. And that was before they even accounted for their extreme exhaustion.

Then one night, one beautiful night, something finally went right. Rose was the only one in the basement, just tinkering around. And then there was a warm little feeling in the back of her mind telling her to take a chance… so she did. She sent the fruit through the cannon and— it disappeared. But it wasn’t just gone, according to every piece of information the console was spitting out it was in another world! For a moment Rose could only stand there, mouth gaped open. She looked around, ready to celebrate with someone until she remembered she was all alone.

Then, her mind coming back to her, she frantically powered the cannon up again and brought it back. Rose hesitated for just a moment, then moved towards it. She held the pineapple in her hand. It hadn’t exploded or caught fire, its DNA was still perfectly in-tact. It had gone through the cannon and into another universe and then came back completely unscathed! And that was all the proof she needed.

Rose sped back over to the console and started inputting information. Every shift required someone standing by the console to activate the cannon to send the subject off and then reactivate it to bring them back. But Rose had a trick up her sleeve. Near the start of the project, she had secretly installed an automatic pilot protocol, meaning she could send herself off and then the console would automatically bring her back a few minutes later. She knew Pete and Mickey would be upset with her the moment they found out what she’d done, knew it probably wasn’t the smartest decision she’d ever make in her life, but she didn’t care. With one last flip of a switch, she ran over and hopped up onto the platform, closed her eyes, and within one deep breath, she felt the cannon working around her. There was brightness, loud banging, the world shifting all around her and then—

Everything was still. She felt a gentle breeze stroke against her cheek, heard something like squawking in the distance. Rose opened her eyes to a purple sky in a field of tall, fiery red grass. She smiled.

“Doctor, I’m comin’ to get you.”

[takara-kaneko]

Okay if you’re comfortable with it I also have a situation. What about mc getting tired of her work getting criticized after every party by a few people, claiming that rika could’ve done better. And that mc eventually gives up and decides to leave the rfa?

Ooooh!! This one was really fun sad to write! I loved every moment! I hope that you enjoy it! 

(Random notes for you: for this to be accurate, I have removed any knowledge of Rika being alive or being the Savior. It was the only way for it to make sense in some of the cases. So please keep that in mind when you read!) 

(I also couldn’t really find a way to fit Jaehee in this… She never really had a close relationship with Rika, so I couldn’t see her comparing her to MC. But if you do really want one for her, I’m sure I can find some way to make it work. Sorry…) 

Let Me Go

Another party finished. It was a huge success in the eyes of everyone but MC. She didn’t feel like she heard anything but the many criticisms given by those who were supposed to support her. 

“Rika could’ve done it better.” 

It would’ve been fine, she thought, as she overheard him speaking to the others. Yoosung has said many things like that without thinking. Instead, she felt betrayed by the fact that no one stood up for her. 

She had withstood so much, had learned and grew to make these parties to the best of her ability. But she never seemed to be good enough. 

It was always, ‘Rika was better’, ‘Rika had more guests than this’, ‘Rika wouldn’t have approved this food’, to statements even that hurt her pride. Insulting not only her competence but her appearance as well. 

After the third year, she had enough. Through the insults of not only her friends but of her lover too. 

She knew what she had to do before the party even ended that night. After leaving the others to have their afterparty, she decided to go home. MC couldn’t help but stop as she entered her house. Their house. With her tears falling freely, she packed up all that was hers. Looking around at her bare home, a sob escaping her lips. What took 2 years to build took less an hour to remove. 

With that, MC left. It didn’t have any happy ending or surprise. There was no perfectly timed drive-by of any of her friends, or of the love of her life. MC drove off, taking almost every evidence of her existence in their lives. The only thing left was a single carefully written note, with a ring lying beside it. 

“Dear my beloved” the letter wrote, “you already know you have my heart. But at this moment, I’ve realized I don’t have yours. 

“I tried to work past it. I tried to earn your love. Even trying to just earn your respect. But it’s not enough for you. For any of you. 

“Because I’m not Rika. And I never will. Until you realize that, it’s not worth the effort. This isn’t just you, it’s everyone. They all have to know that I can’t replace her. 

“It’s time to let me go. And after this is all said and done, maybe we can have another shot. But I can’t always be second in your eyes. I hope you have a wonderful life. Even if I am not in it…

“With absolute love,

MC”

 Zen

He didn’t get home late that night. With the group choosing to go to karaoke, Zen had stayed even later to sing. 

The lights were out as he pulled into his apartment, causing Zen to look back in concern. While yes, he knew that MC very well could’ve been asleep, the two of them always knew to leave the outdoor light on. 

Zen entered their home quietly. There wasn’t any big mess and nothing was destroyed. However, he couldn’t help but notice some things were missing. A picture frame there and a vase there. Most of them didn’t hold any value though. Without helping himself, Zen rushed into the bedroom, flicking the light on only to find it empty. His stuff was there, but her decorations, her extra covers, her pillow, her. 

Her. 

MC was gone. 

Zen pulled out his phone prepared to call the police or possibly Seven. Hell, he would call Jumin if he thought it would help. 

But his eyes caught on the envelope on his nightstand, His name carefully written in MC elegant handwriting. 

As he read, he couldn’t help but choke out a sob. He never realized anything to be troubling her. Anytime she got quiet was around the Party, Zen has always expected it to be from the stress.  But he knew she was different than Rika, he always did. And so did the rest of the RFA did. Right? 

But as he continued to think about it, he couldn’t help but realize all the passes he’s made. Even while she tried her hardest, time and time again, all she got was it thrown back in her face. 

With a heavy heart, we opened his phone, his finger floating over her contact. One-click, and she would be there. But Zen stayed still. For what felt like hours, he stayed, staring at her face. 

If he called, he believed that she’d come back. But to what? Another year where she’s put down by the people that were supposed to be closest to her? MC didn’t deserve that, he knew. 

She deserved the world, but all he did was make her feel worthless. He locked his phone, tears dripping onto the now black screen. 

‘Of course, she left,’ He thought. ‘I gave her no choice…’

Going back to the nightstand, Zen picked up the ring, the small ring that he had given her. While they weren’t engaged, she promised herself to him. And now, he destroyed that promise without regard. 

Zen knew what he needed to do. He had to change the RFA. Not just help it continue, but to fix them so that his beloved would be welcomed and loved. Slipping a chain through the ring, he clasped it to his neck.  

“I’ll return this to her… When we deserve her.” He declared, his pain fueling his determination. 

 Yoosung

Yoosung was still in college, so he would typically go back to his college dorm since MC’s apartment was a little ways away. But this time around, he wanted to stop by at least for a bit. MC never really would leave like that, she had always stuck by for the after-party celebration. He knew that Rika would have never done anything like that, so that had worried him. 

Because the lights were off, he tried to enter the apartment quietly, worried that Yeo, their new dog, would cause a panic. But there was no sound. To most people, that would be normal, but MC never slept without music. On top, there wasn’t even a shuffle of sound from Yeo. 

Worried, Yoosung flicked on the lights. The room was barren, only the furniture remained. In a panic, he spun to his left, trying to reach her bedroom. Yoosung didn’t even feel it when he hit the small desk in her living room. He was just so worried… 

So worried that he didn’t hear a small envelope fall underneath the desk. 

And a ring onto the floor. 

As he entered the now emptied room, he made a sound he would later realize was the sound of his heart breaking. Why does this always happen to him? He could never understand, first Rika, now MC. Was he cursed to have those he loves to disappear without a word? What’s next, will someone say that MC died too, but not give any proof to back up the claim?

It was too much for him to deal with. He had so many ideas of what to do appear in his mind, only for him to not do it. Instead, he stayed in her room. the room that the two of them had spent countless nights together. He stayed in the room and he broke. He gripped the bedframe until his knuckles turned white; screamed into the carpet until he could no longer make sound, cried until he had nothing left to cry. Laying on the ground, he fell asleep. 

Yoosung didn’t know how long he laid there. Minutes? Hours? Days? It all felt the same to him now. She was gone… they both were. But as time passed by, he knew he couldn’t just sit here, he would have to do something. Try to find her. Try anything to bring her back. 

Picking back up the pieces of what little self he had left, he made his way towards the door. But not before a soft reflection of light attracted his attention. It was the smallest shine, he could have called it luck it struck his gaze. He got down on his knees to pick up the small object, only then realizing it was MC’s promise ring. 

The two of them had decided that they didn’t want to get married until they had both graduated and had reliable jobs. But now that promise lay lying broken on the ground, along with his heart. Now on the floor, a small envelope was clearly able to be seen. Fearing what it was, Yoosung began to reach for it. 

Was it money? Was she being blackmailed? Was she cheating on him, is that why she left? Or was this some explanation? If it was, would be one where she cursed him and said she always hated him; or one of love and affection? 

He realized just how wrong his thoughts were as he opened the letter. Biting his lip to suppress yet another cry of pain, he finished reading that letter. 

He knows that there is a difference between what is her and what is Rika. Why would she throw this in his face? Why would she call out such a sensitive spot in his heart? 

Rika would have never- 

Yoosung stopped as he looked around him. When had he started doing that? He couldn’t remember when his thoughts of her once again crossed over with Rika’s. But this time, so negatively. MC was such a light in his life, but he let this abuse continue. Even worse, he didn’t even give it a moment’s thought to how it was affecting her. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. MC had gone through so much by his side, she was such a great person. He couldn’t ever hurt her again. He would have to get past his own grief before he could ask her to come back. 

He flipped open his phone, to the first contact on his phone, and typed a short message. Sucking in a breath, he pressed send. 

“My sunshine. I know what I need to do. I can fix it, I can fix me. Just wait for me. Please. I love you. 

“My heart will always belong to you,

Yoosung Star” 

 Jumin

While Jumin was still enjoying the afterparty, he received a phone call from his head of security. Trying to cover his surge of panic, he dismissed himself, answering the call with urgency. 

Out of the reasons he could have called, Jumin did not expect this- MC had left. Part of him wanted to just laugh, she was allowed to leave if she wanted to, she wasn’t a prisoner. But that humor soon turned to worry as he learned she had a suitcase, fleeing without bodyguards. 

Jumin paid no thought to tell the others, his only thought was to return back to his home- their home. Driver Kim was already waiting for him as Jumin left the building. He arrived at his penthouse in record time, thanks to Driver Kim’s skillful driving.

Reaching his room, Jumin had broken into a small sweat, unsure if it was because of his quickened pace or because of his concern for MC. As he opened the door, Jumin couldn’t help but suck in a breath. It was gone. All of it, her decorations, all of her possessions. Even all of the photographs, leaving only a photo of himself with V and Rika.

He reached the bedroom shortly after, only after counting what all had been taken. Jumin couldn’t stand to see his home without her presence. It all seemed so colorless without her. He carefully viewed his room, pausing at the small envelope that had rested on the dresser. Without wasting time, he approved the letter, his name engraved on the front. 

While no emotion had reached his face, his eyes expressed a whirlwind of feelings. Confusion, betrayal, pain, guilt. With every sentence, a new one came, clawing at his façade, cracking his stoicism one hit at a time. When he finished the letter, he cried. Crouched in front of the bed, he cried into the sheets for what felt like hours. 

Rika was special to him, he loved her. But he never thought that his love for her would have affected MC.  While he may still care about Rika, his heart belongs to MC. But as he looked around, he realized just how much of Rika’s still remained. Had his opinions about her cross over as well? 

It dawned on him, like something he had never thought of before. In his own mind, he was helping, letting her know the things that Rika had done differently in an attempt to teach her. She had always been thankful for his help. But somewhere along the way, it changed without him noticing. It turned into passing comments, with no underlying meaning than to just tell her what she was doing wrong. It was cruel, he realized now, but she would still try to learn from it. 

In such a short time, Jumin knew that MC had become an amazing organizer, but he never realized he was comparing her this whole time, keeping silent on the facts he liked about her better, but always making notes on the things he remembered Rika was better at.

It no surprise that she left, really. He was more shocked she hadn’t left earlier. Picking up her engagement ring, he walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle glass of wine. MC deserved so much more. 

She deserved more than these comments and insults. 

More than these cruel friends.

More than him. 

At least, the way that they were now. But that wouldn’t last for long. Changes were going to happen within the RFA, he was certain about that. 

Jumin never thought she would ever want to return after all they did to her, but if she decided to, he wanted her to be accepted with open hearts and arms. 

After all, that’s what she did for them. 

  Saeyoung

He knew. If you don’t think this boy has set up security alerts in his home, you are sorely mistaken.

But he already knew. Not that she left, but that she was going to. From the choices and actions of him and his friends, Seven knew that she couldn’t have stayed for much longer. 

He had said so many hurtful things to her, that she would never be enough, she needed to be better, she should be more like Rika.

The problem with Seven wasn’t that he didn’t know how his words would affect her, it was that he did. Seven was dangerous, he would get MC hurt, if not worse. He couldn’t get her to leave him, to leave this crazy world that he left her in. She was better than all of this, better than him. She deserved to live a life in the sun, without a care in the world. 

So, he decided to be cruel. Not only just to her, but to allow how the others would treat her. The snide comments that grazed his ears felt like gunshots. He would have wanted nothing more than to get up and attack whoever said such hurtful things to his MC. 

But he didn’t. 

He just sat there.

He watched it all happen 

Simply watched as she slowly broke. 

He watched as her guests and her friends tore her down from the inside. Watched the look of defeat replace the look of optimism on her beautiful face. Watched every time she would try to secretly wipe the tears out of her eyes and present a smile that never quite reached her eyes. 

And he watched her walk out of that party for the last time.

He couldn’t stand to see her leave him, so he decided to stay out past the RFA afterparty. He avoided the bars, God knew he hated that stuff, but he stayed out until the morning. 

Would she be crying, he wondered, Or will she be too determined to let a tear fall?. His heart crumbled, knowing that if she cried, he wouldn’t be able to wipe them away. 

Saeyoung knew, however, that that was the right thing to do. She would be the second person who is living a better life without him. And that was the only joy he needed- the love of his life and his brother were alive and well. 

But when he arrived home, He forced himself to stare at the consequences of his actions. He was alone, inevitably now. MC left with more than just her possessions, she left with him too. Or rather, the parts that made him, him. 

He didn’t need love. He didn’t need anything. He could die happy, so long as Saeran and MC were safe. Wanting to truly force himself to feel this pain, he walked into each room, making sure to make note of everything that she had taken. None of his things were taken, but very few of her items were left. He would have to find a place for them to stay. With the flick of the light, Saeyoung enters their his bedroom, encountering the only thing he wasn’t expecting, the letter left on his dresser, his true name written on the front with such passion. 

His mind told him to stop, screamed at his body to stop. He knew what this was, he knew that it would only break him more. Yet, his heart landed him in front of the dresser, with the last gift he’ll ever receive from MC. After placing the ring on the same chain as his cross, he slowly opened the letter

Holding the now read letter to his chest, tears brimmed in his eyes, never falling in fear of ruining the ink. Maybe, one day, he could be with her again. Be able to hold her, love her. Give her just the amount of attention and affection that she truly deserved. Marry her, have a happy life, and have a good ending. 

But not now. 

Not in this life. 

Or rather, 

Not in this route. 

Part 2 is Here!! 

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