#sometimes I think that those in their 20s are sick and twisted apart from you and your friend

[turtletaubwrites]

Gone Too Far ~ Part 20

Pairings: Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader, Robin x Fem!Reader, Sanji X Robin

This is part 20 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:

Word Count: 4411

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Link (Ch. 10 of We've All Got Needs cont.)

Summary: The crew splits up to enjoy time on Water 7. Then everything goes wrong. Can your crew hold together when it's being torn apart?

Rating/Warnings: AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Swearing, ANGST, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Pet Names,

A/N: !!SPOILER WARNING!! Spoilers for the anime for the Water 7 arc. I'm sorry y'all, I had to write it, so please have my tears. This part is rough, but I swear there will be breaks ahead. Plus, I hope you enjoy the extra smut scenes from the missing month, an extra sweet and smutty one will be posted tomorrow! 💜

You grumbled as you got ready for the day, wanting to stay in bed with Robin for the next week.

“Come, botanist. Let’s explore together.”

That stopped your grumbling, and you followed her out on deck. 

Usopp was hugging the mast, and you left Robin’s side for the first time to go pat him on the shoulder.

“You took great care of her, Usopp.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I know all the tinplate patches don’t look like much, but they bring back a lot of fond memories.”

“Why don’t you keep some of them? You can make something cool out of them, like a decoration for the Merry.”

Usopp broke out into a grin.

“That’s a great idea! But don’t tell Luffy, he still wants me to make him a statue.”

“Ha, you have my word.”

“Hey, Needy.”

You had started walking back to Robin, but Zoro’s voice carried over from the bow of the ship. Your body already itched to be close to her again, but you walked toward your swordsman as he leaned over the railing. 

“Hey, babe.”

Zoro stared down at you for a moment, before reaching an arm toward you. Stepping toward his warmth, you let him pull you into a hug.

Outside of sparring, you hadn’t had much time with Zoro since you’d been so focused on Robin getting better. A twist of guilt hit your stomach, but you breathed through it. 

It’s only been a few days, and she almost died. 

Still, part of you had started to worry that he was upset. It’s been a couple months now since you first started seeing each other. Zoro hadn’t had any more blowups recently, and it seemed like things were going well. 

The calm didn’t feel safe though. You wanted to believe that if he was harboring any resentments or pain that he’d come to you, talk to you about it. But he hadn’t brought anything up. It made you uneasy sometimes. 

Knowing that a lot of that fear was your own trauma from past relationships, you fought not to project it onto Zoro. 

I just wish he’d talk to me about his feelings. 

You pulled him tight against you at that thought. At the three little words that you were too much of a coward to say out loud, even after all this time. 

Afraid that you’d scare him away. Afraid that he didn’t feel it too. Afraid that he’d never examine his own feelings enough to know if he could feel it or not. 

Those thoughts made you feel sick, and you knew most of it was your own shit. You didn’t want to think about him that way. 

But no matter how clear you got your mind on those thoughts, you still felt too afraid to tell him. 

“I’m glad she’s okay,” he whispered against your temple.

“Me too.”

You took a deep breath in, still trying to convince your body that it was true. That she was okay. 

“Are you gonna… spend the night with her again?”

You pulled back, searching his eyes.

“Why?”

“I, uh…”

He frowned at you, and you tried not to roll your eyes. 

He’s trying to tell me what he needs. He just doesn't have enough practice yet. 

“Would you like some time with me tonight?”

Zoro looked away from you, but nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Now look who’s needy,” you teased, winning you a playful grin from him as he picked you up. Then he stopped, setting you back down as he looked out across the bow. 

“Hey, I think we’re there.”

Most of the crew ran up, shouting as you all squinted to see the island. 

“He’s right, I can see Water 7!”

Luffy’s excited words had you covering your eyes from the sun, until you could see the island coming into view. It was massive, built of gray stone, huge numbered gates surrounding all sides. Everyone was speechless for a moment as a giant fountain came into view, spiraling water into the air, towering in the center of the island. Canals flowed down, spilling back down into the ocean. 

You squeezed Zoro’s arm before making your way to Robin, loving the way her face lit up at the sight. 

Holding her hand, you laughed as you sailed through the town. Everything was floating. Instead of streets, people took small boats led by strange fish creatures across the water. 

The crew found a place outside the city to dock, and you watched your swordsman furl the sails. His strong arms were mesmerizing as he pulled the rope, but your breath caught in your throat as the mast started to crack. 

“Are you trying to break the ship,” Usopp yelled, as everyone panicked.

“No! All I did was pull the ropes like I always do. Holy shit, if the Merry’s falling apart this easy, we’re lucky we made it here at all.”

Ice sank into your stomach at Zoro’s words. You knew it was bad, but the mast seemed like it was barely holding on to the ship now, swaying dangerously overhead. 

Nami took charge, declaring that Luffy and Usopp accompany her to turn in the reference letter to have the ship looked at, and to trade in the gold from their last big score. 

“I guess I missed my chance to go with them,” Chopper pouted as he watched the group head toward the city. 

“You can come with us later if you like.”

Hearing Robin’s voice still gave you shivers. 

“Really? Can we go to a bookstore?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed, reaching for her hand again. “I wonder if they have a nursery here, I'd love to see what plants they have available in a floating city.”

You rushed to give Zoro a kiss, then ran after Robin and Chopper as they left the ship. 

A small part of you felt bad for not searching the ship to kiss Sanji goodbye, but it was quickly drowned out by Robin’s laughter, and the feel of her arm around your waist while you followed Chopper. 

~

The city was bustling, street vendors hawking wares, while citizens laughed and bartered. The people were almost strangely friendly here, even to pirates. 

Sometimes a little too friendly.

That thought got stronger the more you and Robin were showered with compliments as you walked past. 

“This town is full of Sanji’s,” Chopper noted, and it left you and Robin in a fit of laughter at the thought of your amorous lover. 

A lot of the townsfolk were wearing painted wooden masks, and you stopped by a vendor to take a look as Robin reassured Chopper that they were just masks, not monsters. 

“It seems the people here take the sea train to San Baldo Island where they hold a costume carnival every day.”

You tilted your head at Robin, while Chopper asked how she could know that. 

“The people walking by are talking about it.”

“And you hear everything they say?”

You tried not to tense your hand in Robin’s, hoping she would answer his question. 

“I can’t help it. Ever since I was young, I’ve made it a habit to keep a critical eye and ear on my environment.”

Her tone toward Chopper was sweet and light, but you felt yourself going still. 

What has she been running from? Why is she so scared?

“Look at that, I think we found your bookstore,” Robin observed.

Chopper ran forward, talking excitedly. You knew public spaces were difficult for him alone, so you found yourself reaching out for him. He shifted into his massive human form, and you raced forward to join him, dropping your hand from Robin’s for a moment. 

“Hold on, Chopper, we’re coming.”

You followed him through the doorway, seeing that he was already perusing the shelves, and that no one seemed to be bothering him. 

I’m glad everyone here is so friendly.

Robin hadn’t joined you yet, so you stepped back outside.

The street looked the same. Vendors, customers, people in masks. 

Ice cold fear shot through you. 

Where’s Robin?

“Chopper! We have to go.”

“But, Y/N,” he said, a pile of books in his large arms. 

“Robin’s missing!”

Panic raced through you, and you saw Chopper’s eyes fill with concern as he left the books on the counter. 

Chopper shifted into his reindeer form, and you yelled her name as he followed her scent.

She’s okay, she probably just got distracted.

What if Aokiji came back? What if he took her?

What if she’s hurt?

Robin didn’t answer your calls, but you kept trying until your voice got hoarse. 

~

“I’m sorry, Y/N, it’s like her scent just vanished.”

“What do you mean vanished?”

“I don’t know, it just stopped,” the note of panic in Chopper’s voice as he explained wasn’t helping your speeding pulse. 

“Hold on…” 

Chopper lifted his nose to the air, and hope gripped your chest.

“There’s something else over here. I know that smell.”

Racing to look around the corner, your hope dropped when she wasn’t there. Instead, you found Sanji.

He was sitting on the edge, looking out to sea with a pile of groceries beside him. 

“Sanji! Have you seen Robin?”

Chopper's hooves clattered on the stone as he caught up to your frantic steps. Sanji frowned at him.

“I just saw her. It seemed like she ignored me, and she was walking with a large person in a masked outfit. I thought that was you in your human form, Chopper.”

“It wasn’t m-”

“She’s missing, Sanji!”

You gripped his arm, watching him take in your features, your panicked eyes. He gestured behind him, looking around the area.

“I followed her over here, and it seemed like she just disappeared.”

“So did her scent.”

Your ears were starting to ring as they spoke, and you pulled away, shouting her name. 

“Angel, hold on!”

He clambered after you, grabbing the groceries as he and Chopper followed. 

Your voice was cracking, and your breaths were ragged. 

Sanji dropped the bags again, wrapping his arms around you. 

“We’ll get her back, Y/N. We’ll always get her back.”

They convinced you to hop into a boat while you continued to call for her around the area, before heading back to meet with the rest of the crew. 

You noticed Sanji and Chopper had started speaking in hushed tones, and you were able to pull yourself together enough to start listening. 

“I hope she’s alright. I feel uneasy.”

“Do you need an examination?”

“No, Chopper, it’s not like that. It’s what the admiral said, all that terrible stuff he said about Robin’s past…”

Your voice was raspy and empty as you interrupted.

“Protecting this troublesome woman leads to nothing but regret.”

They turned to you, brows tensed in concern. You kept going. 

“He said that every group she’s ever been a part of has been destroyed, everyone except for her.”

You glared defiantly at them, anger bubbling in you. 

“But I don’t care about her past. I don’t care what he said.”

Sanji gripped your knee while Chopper nodded.

“None of us care, sweetheart. We’re going to get her back.”

~

“The Merry can’t sail again.”

You couldn’t understand Zoro’s words as Chopper and Sanji started to argue. Your fists clenched hard, nails digging into your skin as you tried to make sense of everything.

“It just seems so extreme, it's our same old Merry, we’ve traveled with her so long.” 

Sanji’s emotional words brought you into the moment, only for Zoro’s calm, unaffected voice to make your mind go sickly still. 

“You just answered your own question. Human beings get stronger after hardship, but ship’s wounds just pile up. The shipwright said her keel is broken, she won’t even make it to the next island.”

Chopper started to cry, and you almost sobbed as you watched Sanji touch the top of his hat to comfort him. 

“We need to find Ro-”

“Hey, everyone!”

Nami’s frantic voice interrupted your plea, and you watched her climb onto the deck. She was carrying a large briefcase, and was dripping with sweat and tears. You ran to her, fresh panic flooding your veins.

“Are you o-”

“Usopp’s hurt! Some assholes called the Franky Family stole most of our money for the Merry, and they- they…”

Everyone surrounded her, all speaking at once while you moved her hair out of her face, taking the briefcase from her trembling arms.

“Where’s Usopp?”

Chopper’s serious voice broke through Nami’s staggered breaths. You felt like your world was spinning as the boys set out to find him, and to go after the pieces of shit that hurt your friend. 

Zoro’s face was inches from yours, his hands gripping your arms. 

“Stay here with Nami. Protect the Merry. Okay, Needy? You need to stay here. Protect that money so we can get a new ship.”

Nami gripped your hand while Sanji kissed your temple. 

Zoro’s eyes burned into yours. 

“Promise me, Needy.”

“I promise,” you managed to whisper, voice still shot from yelling Robin’s name. 

Nami’s palm was clammy in yours as you watched your crewmates head back into danger. 

Why is this happening?

~

It felt like years had passed when you finally saw the five Straw Hat boys walking home, Luffy back with his crew, and Chopper’s human form carrying Usopp’s bloody, limp body.

You sat on deck against the unstable mast, and tried not to scream at everyone.

We need to find Robin. 

“Angel, are you okay?”

Sanji was crouching in front of you, soft eyes searching yours.

“No.”

His lips pursed as he nodded, and he looked like he was about to speak when Chopper yelled.

“He’s awake!”

Relief moved through you for your friend as you followed the crew inside. But you caught Sanji’s eyes, and knew that he was still thinking about your missing archaeologist too. Reaching for his hand as you went through the door, you caught the sound of Usopp crying out. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if I was strong like you guys. It’s all my fault, I’m so ashamed of myself!”

Even covered in bruises and bandages, Usopp lurched forward, catching Zoro off guard as he wrapped his arms around one of his thighs. Zoro seemed to panic, flailing a bit, unsure of what to do as Usopp wept against him. 

Tears streamed down your face. You knew all too well the fears of failing the crew because you weren’t strong enough. 

“It’s not that big a deal, alright. Calm down.”

Zoro squirmed as Usopp still clung to him, and you rushed forward, rubbing Usopp on the shoulder until he let Zoro go. He clung to you now, and you didn’t know what to say. You just held your friend, letting your own tears fall quietly as he kept sobbing in your arms.

“I lost the money, what are we gonna do about the Merry?”

“You need to rest, Usopp, or you won’t get better,” Chopper pleaded, the threat of tears in his voice. 

Luffy was finally able to calm Usopp a bit, declaring that they would find that asshole, Franky. 

“Besides, even if we can’t get our money back, we still have a hundred million berry, so don’t worry about it!”

You thought the vein in Nami’s forehead would pop when she scolded him. The crew had lost two hundred million berry on Usopp’s watch.

Poor Usopp. This is awful.

The thought of what a shitty day it was brought you back to Robin, and you almost screamed to get everyone to focus on her. But Usopp’s hopeful voice made your stomach twist in knots. 

“Is Merry gonna be okay? Can we get her fixed with the money we’ve got? There’s all these awesome shipwrights, you talked to them about it, right?”

Luffy glossed over the pain, smiling as he broke the news. 

“Uh, yeah, we did. But we decided to get a new ship instead. The Going Merry has taken good care of us, but it looks like our journey has to end here. But look, there’s a bunch of great ships we can still afford,” Luffy said lightly as he showed Usopp a catalog from the shipyard.

Feeling the pain from the silent crew with the captain’s choice, the look in Usopp’s eyes made your heart break. 

You watched him build himself up again, trying to convince himself that it was a joke. 

Until he looked at all of your faces, the truth evident. 

“Does it mean we don’t have enough for the repairs? Is it because I lost the money?”

“Usopp-”

You tried to move back to him, wanting to reassure him, but Zoro’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you. 

Usopp was yelling at Luffy now, demanding the truth, and you’d never seen Luffy’s face like this. Not when looking at a friend. 

His teeth were clenched as he held his words in, sweat beading on his brow. Until he started yelling back. 

Zoro moved past you then, stepping in to stop the fight. You caught eyes with Nami, your pain echoed in hers.

“I don’t see what I’m doing wrong, he’s the one saying all this dumb shit.”

Nami broke in to stop Usopp, begging him to calm down and rest. 

“Who cares about me? How can you all just sit here when he's making jokes about getting a new ship?”

Luffy was shaking now as he started to yell back.

“I’m not joking about anything, this was a hard decision for me too!”

“Oh yeah, I feel really sorry for you,” Usopp growled, before grabbing the ship catalog out of his hand. “Already window shopping for a new toy!”

You gasped as Usopp slammed the pages to the ground, wishing this nightmare would fucking end so your crew would be safe and happy again. 

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Usopp?”

He kept yelling at your captain, demanding to know that it was his fault for losing the money, his fault for failing the Merry. 

Luffy finally said the words, the painful words that none of you wanted to hear. But you hoped it would stop the fight. 

“The Merry can’t be fixed.”

But that awful truth didn’t stop the fight. Usopp denied, and accused, and bartered. Then he demanded.

“Don’t give up on the Merry!”

Hot tears stung your cheeks as you stood frozen. 

More yells and accusations toward Luffy felt like whips snapping in your face, almost making you flinch with each swing. 

Sweet Chopper moved toward Usopp, hoofs quivering as he reached out. 

“I know you’re upset, but you need to calm down.”

“Not until we settle this, I won’t let you take the Merry away from me! You’re ignoring your crew, ignoring your friends. I can’t believe that’s the kinda captain you turned out to be.”

Usopp had stood and grabbed Luffy by the front of his shirt. He wasn’t listening to any of your voices as the crew pleaded with him to stop. 

“I thought you were better than this!”

“You’re not being fair, Usopp-,” Nami tried again, before Luffy flung out his arm for her to stop.

“You stay out of this. It was my call. We’re getting a new ship whether you like it or not.”

Usopp was sweating through his bandages now, dark spots of blood showing through some of them. You didn’t know your friend could make a face like the one he had right now. You felt like you were going to throw up. 

They kept screaming, and you couldn’t follow the words anymore as you watched in horror. Sanji tried to step between them, but Luffy pushed Usopp to the ground, yelling in his face. Nami cried out, and you tried to run forward, but Zoro stopped you again. You almost screamed at him. 

Luffy’s next yell pierced through it all.

“Fine, if you don’t like the way your captain does things then why don’t you get-”

Sanji’s leg was so fast as it spun, launching Luffy straight through the kitchen table, shards of wood and dust flying. You gaped at your cook, rage and sweat dripping from him. 

“This is going way too far. What the hell is wrong with you? If you don’t watch it you’re going to say something you can’t take back, so calm down.”

Sanji was shaking now, breath ragged, and you felt your lips quiver at the anger in his eyes. 

Luffy crawled from the broken pieces of the table, and apologized. You felt a breath of relief, before Usopp tore it away. 

“If you’re gonna throw away the Merry, might as well throw me away too.”

Sanji tried to step in again, but then Usopp laid out his own fears before the crew. You felt raw, aching. You wanted to reassure your friend, but how could you, when you felt the same way he did about being weak?

“It’s not like it was before. You’re all too strong for me now. You can’t even trust me to guard our money. You don’t want weak people on your crew do you?”

Nausea flooded you, your own guilt and shame at your weakness making you hate yourself in this moment. 

“I’m leaving the crew. This is goodbye.”

It’s only a matter of time before something like this happens to me. Maybe I should follow Usopp. Maybe he's right. 

Most of the crew lurched forward, calling for him until he shut the door. Part of you was screaming to join him, to leave the crew before you could fail them, before you could hate yourself for failing them. 

“Luffy, what are you doing, go after him!”

Nami’s frantic voice kept pleading with him, but he stayed down, eyes dark. 

“Fine, have it your way then.”

Nami ran out the door, Sanji and Chopper following. You heard the three of them calling his name, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. Luffy and Zoro stayed, their silence heavy. Finally, Luffy stood, moving outside. You ached for him, finally free to follow.

Usopp’s voice carried over from the shore, and you grabbed Nami’s hand. 

Please, Usopp, please come back.

“I challenge you to a duel, Monkey D. Luffy! At ten tonight. If I win I'm taking the Merry, and I’m leaving.”

The silence on deck was deafening as you watched Usopp’s limping form move toward the city.

Robin’s still missing. 

You hated yourself for it, but thinking about Robin was the only thing keeping you from falling into self pity. The only thing keeping you from leaving the ship in shame along with Usopp. 

So you dug through her quarters. She was so private, and you felt sick as you searched for any kind of clue for where she might have gone. 

You could hear Nami pleading with Luffy through the thin walls to apologize, and talk things through. 

“It’s gone too far already.”

You shivered at Luffy’s tone, and kept on your hunt. 

It wasn't long before you heard your boys screaming at each other, and you sank to the floor, too spent to try to stop them. 

I’m worthless. I can’t protect anyone. I can’t do anything. 

Nami tapped lightly on the door, calling your name softly. 

“Y/N, it’s ten.”

Swallowing your self pity, you followed your friend to the deck again, watching Usopp’s silhouette against the city lights as he moved closer. 

“Listen up, I don’t want any of you leaving the ship,” Luffy called over his shoulder.

You grabbed onto Chopper’s small arm as he started screaming, crying for them not to fight. 

But nothing would stop them now. 

Usopp started pelting Luffy with all different types of ammo, and you couldn’t hear what they were saying over the waves, and Chopper’s cries. 

You thought Luffy was going easy on him at first, letting Usopp hit him, but soon you saw your captain jumping off the ground in pain shaking off what looked like caltrops. 

Then the air around Luffy was filled with flames. Luffy made it through the smoke, and you almost screamed as you saw him pull his fists back. But before he could make contact, Usopp kept shooting star after star, and you watched your friend, the sniper, hold his own against your captain.

For a while, at least.

Luffy was looking wrecked, and you felt a twinge of disgust in yourself that you felt proud of Usopp for hurting him so badly.

This is horrible. 

Then Luffy pulled back again, and this time, his fist hit. You sobbed as you clasped your hand over your mouth. Usopp swayed for a moment, and you could see more blood draining from him even from a distance. 

You fell against the railing, barely holding yourself up as Usopp collapsed. 

“At least it’s over now.”

Zoro’s steady voice made your head whip around, finding him looking as he usually does. Stoic, seemingly unmoved. Your mind was too filled with pain to think clearly, and then Sanji’s voice broke through. 

Chopper was crying, trying to jump off the ship to help Usopp. Sanji was holding him trying to stop him and you wanted to scream. 

“I’m a doctor-”

“He’s not a part of our crew anymore.”

Chopper shifted into his human form, but Sanji tackled him. You sank to the ground as you watched everyone fall apart.

“Chopper, it’s bad enough that he lost the fight. If you pity him now, you’ll end up hurting him even more. He knew this is how it might end when he challenged Luffy. We need to give him dignity in defeat.”

“That’s such bullshit,” you growled, voice cracking. You might have yelled if your voice wasn’t shot.

Sanji glanced back at you with pained eyes. Chopper used that moment to break away, running off the ship toward Usopp’s crumpled body. 

Pulling yourself to your feet, you went to Nami, clasping your cold hands together.

Luffy made his way back, his head lowered under his hat, and you let out a sob at the pain in his cracking voice.

“It’s too much.”

Zoro didn’t even turn to face him as he took a breath.

“This is what it means to be captain. You can’t doubt yourself. If you lose your confidence, then who can we have faith in?”

Emptiness filled you as everyone stood silent. Then Zoro had to say the last words, the truth that twisted like a knife. 

“Usopp can never return to the crew.”

Thank You for Reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Part 21

Tag List: @astheni-a | @ferns-fics | @heilee | @iamn1ya | @ghostfacefricker6969 | @onlybassoon01 | @apothicgloom | @slyhersophia | @cyberaestheticals

A/N: I'm sorry 😭😭😭 We won't be sad forever! I hope you enjoy the sweet and smutty extra scene with Sanji tomorrow, I'll make sure we have a good mix to get us through all this angst 💜

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[let-love-run-red]

Daisies

His crown is made of daisies, his heart was made for you

Female reader

Ao3 Link

The Princess's knight was one of high pedigree. His father was a royal guard, his father’s father, his grandfather’s father, his family was the royal guard. Royal Guard ran in the man's blood. Which is why you were confused when he gave you a second glance.

You were Princess Zelda's hand maid. Really it was just a title, the Princess rarely needed or wanted help with the things you should do, such as helping her dress, doing her hair, she preferred to do it herself. That was something you admired about the princess; she took her life in her own hands. You were surprised she had heeded her father’s wishes of having an appointed knight.

When you saw the man following closely behind her you were even more surprised. That was Link, the son of Arn, the captain of the Royal Guard. You stepped out of the way of the Princess, bowing your head in the typical sign of respect.

"(y/n), how are you today?" She paused to ask. You lifted your head with a smile.

"I'm well Princess, and you?" You said kindly. She smiled.

"I'm doing very well." You heard a low huff from Link, and Zelda turned to him before rolling her eyes.

"I'm sure you know Link, (y/n)." She spoke. Link nodded his head slightly and you returned the nod with a curtsey.

"I've heard his name spoken, it's a pleasure to meet you." You said. He met your gaze evenly before turning his head away and scanning the corridor you were currently in. He surely was paranoid.

"Well, I should be heading off, have a lovely day." The princess said, turning back down the hall. You watched them go, paying close attention to Link. You wondered how things would change with him around the Princess more often.

***

As the months went on you grew closer to Link. He didn't talk very much, preferring to focus on his task of protecting the princess, but when the Princess was studying the guardians and the ancient technology you could often find him sitting a few feet away in the grass. He was more inclined for company then.

More often than not it was you talking to him, with little response. You would talk about your day, memories of the Princess, of her mother, you had managed to pull his age from him at one point. You had an inkling he was older than 18, but he confirmed he was in fact 20. The same age as you were. He was surprisingly stoic for someone so young, but you supposed that came from having Arn as his father. The man was not an easy one to impress.

"She seems to enjoy this technology." You said, plucking daisies from the grass and twisting them into a crown. You had made one for yourself already, you weren't sure why you were making another. You watched as Link pulled a daisy from the grass, pulling the tie from his hair and shaking it out. He tucked the daisy behind his ear so it nestled in his hair. You reached out tentatively, brushing your fingers through his blonde locks. He scooted back so he was sitting closer to you, pulling another daisy from the grass and handing it to you. You picked up his hint, slightly surprised.

You began to braid daisies into his hair, twisting the braids around the stems of the flowers to create a crown of daisies in his hair. He sat patiently, allowing you to put as many daisies as your heart desired. You looked up to see the Princess examining one of the guardians with Robbie at her side.

"I don't understand why, but it makes her happy." You said as you stopped braiding Lin's hair. It was now full of daisies and small braids. You toyed with the daisy crown you had set in in your lap, looking to Link to see him looking at the crown. He nodded to the crown sitting in your lap before tilting his head towards you. You set the crown atop his head, adjusting it so it was nestled into his blonde hair.

He sat up straight again, adjusting his position to hold his head high, wearing the daisies with pride. He remained silent for the rest of your "conversation," and when the time came for him to accompany the princess into the castle again, he stood carefully to keep the daisy chain on his head. As he walked away he turned back to you, giving you a small smile before following the princess into the building.

It grew from that moment. As you passed each other in the stairwell he would catch your hand, bringing it to his face to inhale the perfume on the inside of your wrist, and press a soft kiss to your knuckles before releasing it and following behind Zelda once again. A quick moment that left with heat burning in your cheeks for the rest of the day.

Sometimes, after the princess was sound asleep in her room, while he was supposed to be keeping watch outside the door, he would come find you. Often you were in the servants’ chambers, washing clothes or dishes, sometimes you would simply be relaxing. You weren't sure how he found the entrances; they were meant to be secret, but you supposed having grown up in the castle he had found nearly every secret there was in the old building.

Often times he would stand behind you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed while you did you chores. His presence was comforting to you. He was someone to talk to when the other maids and cooks had gone to sleep. You started waiting up later and later for him, hoping he would make it a regular thing to come see you.

And he had. Every night he would come see you. He started coming sooner, staying later each night, walking you to your room to leave a kiss on the back of your hand before disappearing down the hall like a ghost.

"Link has seemed more distracted lately, I'm not sure what's gotten into him." Princess Zelda had said to you one day while you helped her re-organize her closet. She had been given gifts from the champions and wanted to keep them nicely organized. You hummed as you thought of Link, his lips on your skin, how warm his hands were when he held your own, how strong they were yet how soft his touch was.

"I wonder if it's Mipha." The princess mused aloud. You froze for a moment, running your hand over the opal circlet that was a gift from the Zoran champion. You wondered what she could mean.

"(y/n) I'm going to tell you something and you must promise to tell no one." The Princess said, laying across her bed with her chin in her hands as she looked at you. You poked your head out of her closet, giving her a solemn nod.

"I swear on my life Princess, I won't tell a soul." You said as you crossed your heart before disappearing back into the closet to move the Rito dress to a more desirable location.

"Mipha recently told me she made a set of armor for Link." Zelda said, sounding distressed. You tilted your head, wracking your brain. Why did that feel so significant?

"Oh, forgive me, I forget you probably don't know as much about Zora. They are quite secretive." Zelda said. You heard the bed shift before she appeared in the doorway of the closet.

"Zoran Princess's make a set of Zoran armor for their future husbands! To propose!" She exclaimed. At those words you nearly dropped the topaz bracelet Urbosa had gifted the Princess. Propose? To Link? You had met Mipha, you didn't think she was his type, but you knew you couldn't compete with the Zoran champion.

"I don't know what to do (y/n), I love Link I just don't know how to tell him." She said softly. At those words you did drop the bracelet. It landed on the floor with a clatter and you scrabbled to pick it up.

"I'm sorry Princess, I, it slipped." You said, standing and facing her. She took your hands gently in her own.

"It's alright, nothing was damaged." She said. You looked up at her and saw concern painting her features. She placed her hand against your cheek, still holding your hands in one of her own.

"Are you feeling alright? You look pale." She said. She guided you out of the closet, gently taking the bracelet and setting it on her bedside table before leading you to the door.

"You should go rest, you look sick. I can handle the rest of this." She said softly before dismissing you. You bowed your head before stepping out of the door. Link was standing against the door, head turned to look at you as you left the room. He was standing with his feet spaced apart, back straight, arms folded in front of him. He looked strong, you could see why Mipha and the Princess pined for him. You shook your head with tears in your eyes before walking towards the servants’ quarters. You could hear Link's boots on the stone floor. You could imagine him struggling to choose between following you and guarding the princess.

He stayed, in the end. He remained with the princess to fulfill his duty to protect her. But you could have predicted that yourself.

***

That night he came down to the servants’ quarters at the same time as always. You had tried to finish your chores early, so you could avoid him, but he caught you while you were washing up the dishes. You refused to speak to him, to even acknowledge he was standing behind you.

You angrily scrubbed at the plates and bowls, stacking them on the drying rack next to you to dry before they could be replaced. One of the plates slipped out of your hands, breaking into pieces. You reached down to pick up the pieces only to have the palm of your hand sliced open. You let out a hiss and pulled your hand from the water. Great, now you would have to rewash all the plates left in the basin. You examined the cut on your hand that was oozing blood, looking for a towel to press to it.

Link stepped forward, gently taking your hand in his own. You resisted the urge to pull away as he turned your hand palm up, taking the white kerchief from his pocket and wrapping it around your hand and tying a neat little knot on the back of your hand to cover your wound. He lifted your hand to his own, kissing your knuckles again before looking up into your eyes. You swore you could drown in his deep blue eyes. You could drown in him, his presence even.

"Mipha made you a set of armor." You whispered softly as you looked into his eyes. He seemed confused, before it clicked for him. He remained silent.

"And the princess, she has feelings for you as well." You said, pulling your hand away from his and turning back to where the plate had broken, carefully removing the pieces and setting them off to the side.

"You would be a fool to reject either one of them." You said as you continued your work. He was silent behind you, but you could tell he was there by the warmth that radiated from him. You could even tell he had stepped closer, could hear his breaths beside you.

"And I know I can't compete with royalty, so please, just tell me what to expect." You said. You doubted he would speak on the matter. You had sprung this on him so suddenly, he would of course need time to think.

"Should I be prepared for the princess’s wedding, or one of the Zoran princess's?" You asked him. He was silent. You let your shoulders sag. You knew he wouldn't respond, but, you had hoped.

Link reached towards you, gently resting his fingertips on your jaw to turn your head towards him. He moved his hand to rest on your cheek, meeting your gaze. He took your hand, the uninjured one, in his free hand and placed your palm against his chest. You felt his heart beating strong and slow under your fingertips.

"It beats for you." He said. His voice was smooth and comforting, you wished you could listen to him speak all day.

"Don't say that." You said, trying to pull your hand away. Although you didn't resist when Link placed his hand over yours to hold it against his chest.

"Don't say things you don't mean." You whispered. He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I'm not a liar, (y/n)." He said. He turned you so he was standing between you and the basin, placing both hands on your cheeks and looking into your eyes. He leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you. You could feel his heartbeat quicken as he leaned in, and you closed your eyes as your lips met. It was electrifying. His lips were soft and gentle, they moved in perfect sync with yours. You found yourself never wanting to pull away from him. He was warm and welcoming, strong, handsome, you could feel yourself being pulled in and you didn't mind.

Finally, when he pulled away you saw him holding a necklace with a diamond set in the center of a silver pendant. You cocked your head as you looked between his face and the necklace. What was it for?

"My mother," he paused, clearing his throat, "my mother told me to give this to the one who made me happy." He said, taking one end of the chain in each hand, offering to place it around your neck.

"She told me to give it to the one who made me laugh, who made me smile, who made me feel safe." He said. You turned around, and he expertly clasped the necklace behind your neck, letting the pendant rest against your chest.

"That's you." He said. You turned back around and placed your hand back against his chest. His heart was beating rapidly, you could almost hear it in the quiet room.

"What about the Princess? Or Mipha?" You asked in confusion as you touched the silver pendant.

"They're my friends," He said, "but you, I will love you until I die." He placed his hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he met your gaze evenly.

"And I will keep loving you until I'm forgotten." You rested your head against him, hearing his heart beating in his chest. You stood there with him for a moment, absorbing everything that had just been said.

When you finally pulled away, his face was concerned. He opened his mouth to speak, taking a deep breath.

"Tomorrow, the Princess is going to the Spring of Wisdom at Mount Lanayru." He said, running his hands up and down your arms, squeezing your biceps like he was making sure you were real.

"I'm aware, she told me last week." You said, confusion evident in your voice.

"Listen to me." He held your shoulders, looking earnestly into your eyes.

"When she leaves, sneak down to the stables, take a horse. A fast horse." He said. Now you were thoroughly confused, what was he talking about?

"Look at me (y/n), please. Run to Hateno village. There's a house over a bridge, it's mine, please stay there." He said. Was he asking you to run away with him?

"Link what are you talking about?" You asked. He pursed his lips, letting out a breath as his eyebrows furrowed.

"I have a bad feeling about tomorrow. Please, stay as far away from the castle as you can." He begged before pulling you into his chest for another hug. You felt him press his lips against your temple. You nodded against his chest, and finally felt him relax.

"I promise I'll come for you." He said. "When it's safe."

***

There was a picture on the sheikah slate. One that didn't make sense to him. He stood near the remains of the guardian he had just destroyed, avoiding the eye of the sky watchers as he looked to the clump of weeds and brambles near the building, where he had been sitting.

In the picture it was sunny. The sun shone on his back; he could feel the warmth emanating from the photo. He knew the location, remembered Zelda's routine of studying the guardians in the same area he was standing now. But, the girl. He didn't remember her.

In the photo he was sitting in the grass with his back to a girl of about his age. She had (h/c) hair and nimble hands. He had his eyes closed with a soft smile on his face while she braided daisies into his hair, with a crown of daisies sitting in her lap and a matching one on her head.

Something about the picture was familiar, calming, it made his heart beat faster and his palms sweat, but why? Why did it make his knees weak and make him wish he could go back, more than any of the other photos on the slate?

He took a step forward, digging through the bramble and finding a single white daisy growing hidden, tucked away from this evil in a safe thicket. He pulled it from the ground, inhaling the sweet scent of the flower. With that smell, everything came flooding back to him as it hit him like a guardian laser.

You.

He remembered you. He remembered the smell of your perfume, your soft skin against his own when he held your hands, coming to see you every night, stolen kisses in the stairwells and hidden corners. He remembered the night he gave you his mother’s necklace, telling you he would love you until he was forgotten. He remembered taking you to his bed that night and loving you until the sun peeked over the horizon.

He remembered the day he felt himself falling for you. The day in this picture, the day you braided daisies into his hair and placed a crown on his head, talking to him as if he wasn't the Princess's knight. As if he was nothing more than your friend, another Hylian who couldn't be plucked from a crowd of 100 instead of the Hylian champion.

He remembered your patience with him when he refused to speak. How you would watch his face closely for reactions rather than words as you spoke. He felt longing wash over him as his chest ached. It ached like he was dying again, it ached the way it did when he realized each of the champions was dead, but it hurt worse than that. He turned, leaping onto his horses back and turning it down the path away from the castle, riding straight to Hateno village.

***

You were working on chores around Link's small house when you looked down the hill and saw the white horse run wildly through the village. You shook your head. Sometimes the traveling merchants were in too much of a hurry to be cautious of the children around the village. You let out a sigh, dusting the photos on the night stand off while you toyed with the necklace sitting against your chest.

Purah had used you as a guinea pig for her anti-aging technology. It had worked on you, turning you back exactly 100 years. But on Purah, she had used more because she was older than you, but it had turned her into a six-year-old physically. You had laughed that day, for the first time in a while you laughed.

You opened the door with a basket full of clothes with the intention of washing them in the pond behind the stable. You closed the door behind you, turning to walk around the house. You froze in your tracks when you saw a man in a red tunic and brown pants standing in the field, stroking the nose of the black horse you had in the pasture with his back to you. You noticed the same white horse that had torn through town and huffed. Now the merchants had gone too far. You set the basket on the corner of the fence and wiped your hands on your pants before approaching him.

"Excuse me? You do realize you're on private property?" You called. He didn't turn to you, instead continuing to pet the horse. You huffed and stormed towards him. Your horse lifted his head, snorting with his ears pricked forward towards the man. What had gotten into him? You opened your mouth to speak again, only to be rendered speechless when the man turned to face you.

Standing in front of you, with his soft blue eyes and warm smile, was Link. Link, the same age as the day the calamity fell, with a single white daisy tucked behind his ear.

[iwriteficsandtragedies]

One Year Later

Is this.... Is this part ten to Number 20? Omg, it is!

Warnings: naked bathtub time (no hanky panky)

________________________________________

Rome scampered after the tennis ball for what felt like the thousandth time that day. You’d been outside for a good hour with him, trying to run off all his puppy energy. As usual, you were getting tired before he was, and he slid to a stop in front of you and dropped his ball, ready to go again.

“Who’s a good boy? Is it you?” You rolled his furry little face between your hands. “Yes, you’re the best boy, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” He yipped with excitement and you launched the ball across the grass again.

Igor stuck his head out the patio door. “Hey. Marco called, he wants us to bring Rome to the training grounds.”

“We can do that?”

“Yeah, come on.”

“Alright, well give me a few minutes.” You called for Rome, ushering him into the house. You made a quick stop in your bathroom to fix your brows and your hair, grabbed your hoodie and your phone, and met Igor and Rome at the car. The dog climbed into your lap and settled in for the ride, nosing at your hand for pets.

“I didn’t know visiting training was allowed,” you said. “Marco’s never mentioned it.”

“Probably because he didn’t want you showing up and embarrassing him,” Igor replied.

“Oooh, sick burn, think of it all by yourself?” Had he not been driving you would have shoved him. It had been more than a year since you’d moved in, and Igor had become very much like a brother to you - that included friendly insults. It was nice that you two got along well, especially since sometimes you saw him much more than your actual boyfriend.

A year ago, Igor had been in the process of moving out, and their dad was making noise about moving into an apartment of his own. You and Marco were on the cusp of making your own life together, not alone, but independent of the family presence that had been the one constant in Marco’s life until you.

And then Marco’s knee had blown out on that awful summer night. You were watching from your bed, and you couldn’t tell what had happened. He’d just fallen over. You rewound it over and over, trying to see if someone had kicked him or if the knee had twisted, desperate for an explanation better than “just one of those things.” His studs had caught in the grass, and the rest of his body kept going. The ligament hadn’t stood a chance.

You’d watched him scream and bite into the collar of his jersey, watched him pound the ground in agony and anger, unable to do anything but cry with him from across the Atlantic. Gilberto had been inconsolable, and in the hours that followed, you and Igor decided that you’d stay home with him while Igor flew to the States to be with Marco. It took three days for them to return, and you and Gil spent the entire seventy two hours frantically moving furniture, getting rooms switched around so you and Marco now lived on the the ground floor of the house; you cried constantly over those three days, as though your body were trying to get it all out before he returned home and the real hard work started.

Igor gave up his plans to move out, and you had taken a leave of absence from work. Marco’s recovery had been long and painful, full of tears and more than a few fights. It was hard to see him struggle to even walk, and he didn’t always react well to your attempts to encourage him. He hated having to depend on you to get to the bathroom the most; the day he was able to take ten steps on his own, the exact number of steps from your bed to the toilet, you decorated a cake with poop emojis. The two of you ate it in bed, laughing and crying at how excited you were over a few steps. Months and months later, when he finally touched a ball on a real pitch again, you had a whole feast catered for the four of you. Marco nearly wet himself laughing when he saw the cake yet again covered in poop emojis.

And now here you were, almost a year later - he was finally back on the pitch. He was also, quite frankly, easier to live with now that he was playing again.

You tried to pay attention as Igor drove slowly through the gate and around the winding driveway. You’d been to the training grounds once before, but only to pick Marco up in the parking lot. Igor seemed to know his way around, though, and led you and Rome to where the first team were scrimmaging. Nobody seemed to notice as the two of you took a seat in the stands.

You loved to watch Marco play. He still struggled some days, when his knee was swollen and painful after too much time on the ball, but today seemed to be a good day. When the players were dismissed, Igor whistled for his attention and he started slowly towards the stands.

Rome saw him coming, and started to whine and squirm in your lap as he got closer. Marco patted his legs as he gingerly climbed the steps, and Rome leaped out of your lap towards him. Marco gathered him into his arms, ruffling his fur and making cooing baby noises as the pup licked his face. He paid exactly no attention to you or Igor.

“Well, I guess we know where we stand.” Igor nudged your arm.

“Mmm hmm. Maybe we should give them some privacy.” You pursed your lips in mock annoyance.

“They’re just jealous, aren’t they buddy?” Marco spoke to Rome, still ignoring you and Igor. “Yes, they’re jealous of your handsome face, aren’t they?”

“Hey, between the three of us I’m definitely the best looking,” Igor said.

“It’s true,” you nodded. “It’s because he spends more money on makeup than I do.”

Marco rolled his eyes as Igor sputtered, trying to come up with a retort. “You two are the worst,” he said, setting the dog down and motioning for you to come to him.

“Oh, so you do see me here,” you said sarcastically, but you slid out of your seat to let him fold you into a hug. Even after all this time together, you still got butterflies when he put his arms around you.

There was a commotion on the steps, and you turned to see Lucas and Isco coming towards you. You made to pull away from Marco to greet them, but he squeezed his arms around you and kept you close to him. “I’ve barely seen you all week, hug me a little longer please.” His voice was quiet, a little needy.

You turned back to him. “Are you ok?”

He nodded. His teammates were carrying on loudly about who knows what with Igor, so you had a few moments to yourselves.

“Are you sure?” He looked tired, more tired than he usually did these days.

“Just ready to go home.” He lay his head against yours. “I’m beat.” Rome sat impatiently at your feet, ever demanding of your attention. “I’ll get that one,” he nodded towards his brother. “If you get this one.”

You had the easier task; Rome just had to hear the words “car ride,” and he was ready to go. Tearing Igor away from conversation was decidedly harder. Marco had to physically pull him away and promise him McDonald’s on the way home, which worked out well for you and Rome considering French fries were your guiltiest pleasure. The fluffy good boy sat beside you in the back seat, taking each offered fry with tender enthusiasm. “You’re my favorite Asensio,” you told him, scratching him between the ears.

Marco was slow to get out of the car, and even slower up the steps to the house. “Tub,” you ordered. He needed to soak, and you needed to massage his knee, something he often hated but always felt better after. His physical therapist had given you a metal tool to scrape over the scars and the underlying adhesions, too. He really hated that.

He grimaced when you entered the bathroom, tool in hand. “Just what a girl wants to see when she’s about to take her clothes off,” you teased, slipping quickly out of your shorts and hoodie and stepping into the water with him.

“You’re not the fun naked, though,” he said, adjusting his body to accommodate yours. He leaned back as he raised his knee.

“Pobrecito,” you tutted. “Has to have his naked girlfriend massage him in his luxury tub.”

He sighed, a deep contented hum as you worked your palms over his knee and the surrounding area. “This part’s nice. It’s the torture after.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” The metal scraper was uncomfortable. The therapist had stressed its importance in keeping scar tissue from forming and causing new problems though, so you scraped it dutifully over his poor knee every other day. “It’s getting better, isn’t it?”

He sighed again, eyes closed. “Yeah.” He was worn out from training. “I want another cake when we’re done with the damn thing, though.”

You laughed, and thought maybe you’d treat him to a little longer massage today. “With poop emojis?”

“With poop emojis.”

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

His Prophet

BTS

Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]

Genre: God AU, romance, fantasy, protective Taehyung, arranged marriage vibes (kinda), kingdoms and castles, and medieval aspects dotted around, royal au sorta 

Words: 9.8k 

Warning(s):(Y/n is pushed around in one scene, is that a warning?)

a/n: go ahead and blame the GDA for this (and I was listening to creepypastas during work and one particular story’s ending twist inspired me in a non-spooky way). Also, I’d like to say it took 20 minutes for me to find a photo that wasn’t rejected by my computer to make this godforsaken banner. 

summary: The royal Sun God of Navern is a complete recluse; the polar opposite of what one would immediately assume of the God of the Sun should be.  Being the only God in his kingdom, he stayed within his castle walls- or at least it is assumed.  Staff and servants of the palace only see him occasionally in the halls or peering out into the gardens. It was the dreams of one certain townswoman who worked in a small library that he happens to run into one night that changes everything. 

The Kingdom as Navern was a prosperous kingdom, even if smaller in comparison to other neighboring kingdoms. Of it’s few larger cities and small towns, the capital city and home of the Navern Palace was named Vicious. The city was home to all sorts- merchants, blacksmiths, traveling priests and devoted followers of the kingdoms single God; any occupation or profession one would think of, it would probably be found in Vicious. 

However, what one thing masses defined as unordinary was a woman who could read and write and who was just as intelligent as a man living in a run-down, two-story library.  

The bottom floor of the brick build and metal-framed building was filled with bookshelves upon bookshelves of books of all kinds.  Fantasy and children books, adult novels of fiction and non, and documentation of the kingdom’s history.  Encyclopedias and thick bricks books of words and information that- if it had the right reader- could suck them in with knowledge.

The top story was closed off from the public.  Small living space was where the family of the library lived when the store was closed. A small living room with only two rooms and the kitchen was right off the far wall of the living room, not even a wall to separate the two.  It was small, but cozy for the small family of three.

In the past, this small library with two small step stools for high shelves and one small ladder used to belong to an old man and his wife.  They had a small child, a little girl when the couple was early into their middle-aged years. As that little girl grew up, her father taught her to read and write and would often raise her as if she were a son.  She still wore the suffocating dresses and low heeled shoes of a child as a requirement of her mother.  Her father had her help him with broken shelves and squeaky doors, learning a good chunk of labor in her early years. 

On the other hand, her mother still pampered her and grew her into a proper young lady.  Manners and ideals of a woman and one-day future housewife.  Cooking, cleaning, chores, shopping, sewing and all the factors that lead to proper womanhood.  Oddly enough, that little girl didn’t mind all the things she was taught.  

All her talents in both ladylike behavior and otherwise was an opportunity to learn.  And if the girl had anything it was craving for knowledge. She greatly enjoyed reading on the downtime she had and would often recommend books to the boys in her grade school- something she would regret as it lead to years of ridicule.  She was simply too smart for a girl. 

At the age of 13, this little girl lost her mother to sickness.  Catching a cold was all it was, but she just got worse and worse and her father couldn’t keep up with doctor bills.  Eventually, the sickness claimed the girl’s mother and it was just her father and her in the apartment and the library.  5 years later, when the girl is 18, she loses her father next.  

He had been called to help damper out a raging fire in the Nothern part of the city.  Some criminals had started a fire in the small prison to try and mask his escape.  

The older man never came back to the library, only a messager did to tell the girl that her father had been killed pursuing the escapee. Leaving the 18-year-old young lady, leaving you, to inherit the library fully. 

Things from then got painfully stressful for the better part of half a year.  Managing the library and your personal life.  Trying to get accustomed to running everything by yourself and not letting the snarky remarks of young men behind your back as you hammered loose bricks back into the outside bricks. Working day in and day out and also having to run errands for families in need for extra money kept you busy and balancing your schedule wore you out. 

There were many times you thought about giving up the library, no matter how much you loved it.  You came close so many times to that decision, but the memories of you and your family always made you rethink and keep the building in your possession.  Many men had come along and tried to buy it from you to wreck it down and rebuild something else where it stood- you always declined.  

Years went by and as time passed, things slid into a certain pace of ease and you were finally able to live comfortably. You were 24 years old now.  Still managing your library and keeping your home in shape, you also stood as an independent woman. No man or person of romantic interest simply because you had no interest or time for a partner at the moment.  Besides, the men in the city, or at least your part of it, had no interest in a woman who threatened to be smarter than him.  Bruised egos are a lethal attack to men it seemed. 

However, there were a handful of women who respected you a great deal with your knowledge and ability to disregard the judgemental stares and comments from others.  It wasn’t just men who sneered, but the women who were a bit too rich in both money and unrealism gave you stink eyes.  Sometimes the rich women were even more threatened than the men were even when they couldn’t count anything other than bills. 

You were busy restacking the shelves with books that had been returned that morning from mostly children and a few older generations.  Your dress wrapped around your torso as you wore your corset, looser than a lady should, and the skirt hitting your ankles.  You dusted your hands off with each finished task on the white apron tied around your waist.  Small, brown, worn-out flats covering your feet.  Working all day with heels just would not suffice. Your hair wrapped around your head in tied upbraids. Uncomfortable, but out of the way. 

You were more tired than the day before from the dream you had last night.  The dream wasn’t frightful per se, but something about it made you jolt awake.  Each time you went back to sleep, the same dream came back and the same dream woke you up.  It was hours before dawn when you decided to forget any further sleep and just get up.  An early start to the day wouldn’t be so bad.  It gave you time to take books off shelves and clean them only to restock them- a task tedious but long overdue. 

The dream was one set in your city, the city of Vicious. In fact, in each dream you were outside, just walking around running some sort of errand for the local older woman or fetching medicine for the bedridden old gentleman for a small bit of money.  And in each new errand and each new dream, you kept seeing the same people and the same faces you had grown up knowing.  However, it’s one person’s stature that always caught you off guard. 

The wore a brown, long robe with the hood always flipped up.  Masking their face and hiding their body, just walking down the path like every other citizen of Vicious.  You would always unconsciously think of them as a traveling beggar from some other town in Navern.  It was when the hooded figure moved to seemingly lift their head to look towards you when you always jolted awake.  Perhaps it was your brain trying to tell you that you woke up because whatever person that hooded figure was, wasn’t someone you had seen before. Without a proper face to register, you just woke up to avoid it altogether. 

You never got a fearful or unsettling feeling in your dreams or afterward, so you didn’t think too much of it.  However, it wasn’t just that night you had that dream.  It was present the night after and further on.  Night after night it was all sorts of different dreams with different errands and different people, but that one cloaked beggar always was present.  Still not giving you a feeling of discomfort, but the reoccurrence of this dream made you halfway convince yourself to spend some saved up money on a doctor’s trip. 

It’s that night when you contemplate medical aid that you had a dream set in a doctor’s den.  Sat in his dinky little office, but instead of a face, the doctor had a long mask on.  In fact, the whole doctor wasn’t even human, but a giant, humanoid raven with black feathers and dressed in a tailcoat of the most wealthy bank owner. Waking from that dream with a shiver and a line of sweat down your spine, you might actually consider that one a nightmare.  

You decided at nearly midnight to go out and clear your head with a walk.  It was a late and dangerous time for a woman to be out, but the idea of sleep made you shiver. Maybe some time to clear your head in the quiet nighttime would help ease you. 

Changing from one of your father’s old shirts that you wore to bed every night into your least flattering skirt and small poet’s blouse, you threw a shawl over your shoulders.  Not even bothering to tie your hair back.  It wouldn’t be a long stroll, just one to breathe in the clean air and take in the silence. When you looked out your window, you smiled as you saw the moon shining brightly overhead- even though it was only halfway through the new moon cycle.  It would light your path along with the small patterns set outside homes for those who had late-night workers as part of their family. 

Inside Navern Palace dwelled the Sun God of Navern, Luos. Luos was a God who was revered and respected, even as a shut-in God.  He ruled and took care of his kingdom from the comfort of his palace walls.  Any word he needed to hear of, he’d turn to his Water Mirror, a vase with a wide mouth and filled with water.  A few taps of Luos’s fingertips against the water, causing ripples and he could see to the furthest reach of his precious kingdom. 

He did love him home.  Navern was were he grew up as a human with a different, human name when the kingdom was first birthed.  His devoting to his home was what caught another God’s eye- the supreme God of all that was known.  When he died as a young man due to his efforts in fighting in a long war, the Ruler God revived him as something far greater than human and giving him the new name of Luos and the insignia of a butterfly. Thought, he never forgot his original name- and he refused to abandon it altogether. It would be like throwing the long memories of his deceased parents away and he absolutely would not do that. His original name stayed solely with him as he lived as Luos.  

Luos was not always a shut-in, in fact, he used to be rather outgoing and always spoke and hopped around from town to town among his kingdom.  But, many years ago, something changed and all of a sudden he closed his doors for good.  He wouldn’t set foot outside palace walls and on some days his palace servants couldn’t even get him to go out into the gardens full of sunflowers he so much loved. 

He’d been this way for nearly 20 years now.  Only the oldest in Vicious have a vague memory of their royal God walking the streets.  

It was never announced as to why Luos locked himself away into his own prison.  There had been no wars, no famine.  Crime had been on the lower side of the scale and he had no negative reputation with his people that was noted. However, he still made the ironclad decision and his people could do nothing to change his mind.  

However, it was nearly two weeks ago that he started to question his seclusion.  He had grown quite accustomed to his reclusive past couple of decades, but for the past couple weeks, he’s had this feeling gnawing at the back of his mind. He’d stand at one of his many grand windows just staring over the castle’s main gates to the rooftops of town across the thin, brick bridge that connected the castle to town over the clear watered mote surrounding his palace. 

It had been a long time since he had the urge to go out and see his capital again, however recently it had been the hardest urge to suppress in his day to day, reclusive life. The Sun God himself had changed vastly from when he had first started his Godly duties.  The thin, childlike innocent he used to hold in his face had matured out into a sculpted jaw and eyes that had seen many things and consumed more knowledge than humans could take in. 

“Perhaps I should select a prophet,” was his constant reoccurring thought recently.  The thought poured into his head one night when sleep had been actively avoiding him. He had heard in an old wise tale that when one cannot sleep, it is because someone else is dreaming of them.  He questioned the truth behind that because he had not set foot outside in so long, no one had the reason to dream of him at all. He was even more confused as to why he suddenly had the compelling idea to suddenly rope in someone to be a chosen prophet. 

Even when he thought about the suggestion, he could never think of a face or name that would fit the title.  He felt a nagging in his chest and with each possible candidate he could choose to help spread his word and ideals, the nagging would worsen.  It was as if his subconsciousness was rejecting each person he knew within the castle- almost pressuring him to go outside the palace. Perhaps he truly should.  Perhaps he should go and venture out into his capital and try to see if a single one person could cure this nagging that had begun to irritate him. 

So, late at night when the castle was quiet, he dressed in slacks, shirt, and cloak before he left.  Walking out of his room and throw the abandoned halls to the back gates of the palace, rounding around the entire castle to avoid as many guards as possible.  If he were seen leaving, the guards would most definitely make a fuss about it and the gossip would spread from Navern’s farthest board lined town before dawn. As far as anyone else was concerned, he still hadn’t stepped foot outside the palace perimeter.  

The moment his feet hit the loose dirt from across the mote’s bridge, he took a sharp breath.  It was like his soul had missed this feeling of his cities roads.  He felt at home already, even after all this time. He flipped up his hood, hiding his pitch-black hair and smiled as he stepped onward once more, a joyous hop in his step. The moon named Selene, guiding his way forward.  He looked up at her bright surface and smiled a silent thanks for invisible guidance.  The moon was always motherly towards him. 

Selene says she doesn’t play favorites, but Luos was definitely a favorite- even if she denies it. 

Your stroll outside was a quick as you wished it to be.  You walked to the wishing well of stone of ice-cold water in the center of Vicious as you sat on the thick stone of it.  The sounds of the water calmed you and the area chilled your skin even beneath your shawl enough to raise your skin in gooseflesh. The wind blew slightly in small wisps, making you unattractively breathe in strands of your hair.  

Fed up with it, you took the loose tied around your wrist you carried with you everywhere and began to sloppily tie your hair back at the low of your neck. Not very tight, but enough to keep it from entering your mouth and causing you to gag or choke again. 

It was very bright out for it being the middle of the night.  Part of you regretting now bring a book out with you.  You could easily read a chapter or two with the moon’s brightness this night.  You half contemplated going back home only to come back to the fountain and do just that when a small gasp sounded behind you. 

Jumping to your feet and whipping around, you were met with a cloaked figure with their hood flipped up.  You gasped lightly yourself.  It was just like your dreams and now you half expected yourself to bolt awake at home in bed.  You clenched your eyes shut, expected your mattress to be pushed against your back any moment, but nothing happened. You still breathed the fresh air, still heard the fountain’s water, and still felt the chilly air of the nighttime.  

You squinted your eyes open just a sliver, still seeing that cloaked figure across the fountain.  You squeezed your eyes closed against and reached under your shawl to your shoulder and pinched your skin.  The top trick in the books, if you want to wake up from a dream, pinch yourself. 

“Why are you hurting yourself?” You gasped as your eyes shot open.  You had been so preoccupied with yourself that you didn’t even hear this cloaked stranger walk over to stand in front of you.  Their deep voice had a silky tone to it and it was most definitely a male’s voice.  He stood so close to you, nearly toe to toe and yet you still could not see him under his hood.  Just like the dreams, his cloaked figure had no fae you could see. However, you’d never heard them speak before, so perhaps this was some sort of lucid dream? “Miss?” He spoke again. 

“I, um, I’m trying to wake up,” you dumbly replied.  A reply which made his shoulders shift- the only physical thing you could see as a response to your words. You then heard a small, low chuckle from beneath his hood. 

“Are you trying to say that you’re sleepwalking?” 

“Perhaps, I’ve been known to do remarkable things before,” you unconsciously spoke back in a teasing manner.  You then remembered that to most, and almost all, you weren’t supposed to speak to men so highly.  You were a woman of independence and held your head high despite your differences of other women, but the lessons of manners from your mother flooded back into your head.  You quickly took a step backward, leaning back and away from the stranger and covered your mouth with your fingertips. “I apologize for my tone!” 

The stranger quickly lifted his hand to his chest, palm towards you.  His cloak opened to show what seemed like black pants and a white shirt beneath it.  Boots tucked into his trousers.  You partial hoped he wouldn’t raise his hand higher and demand more respect like many, entitled men would without hesitation. 

“There is no need to apologize!” He quickly dismissed.  He lowered his hand back down, his cloak closing back again at his front. His pushed forward chest straightened back down as he saw you relaxed slowly but surely. “Why are you running about the city so late at night, Miss?” 

You bit back the urge to ask him the same thing in return but knew better than to avoid your basic ladylike manners again.  You cleared your voice, straightening back up. 

“I’ve had trouble sleeping for a while now.  I thought that perhaps the night air would help clear my mind.” You didn’t hear the small gasp he took in. 

“Trouble… sleeping?” You nodded towards him, brow raised at his curious tone.  He cleared his throat. “When did your trouble begin? Perhaps if you talk about it, it would help.” You contemplated his offer.  A listening ear of a stranger who offered willingly was far easier and cheaper than visiting a local doctor. You just looked up at him, head tuning in curiosity. 

“Are you truly willing to listen to my late-night woes? Me, a stranger.” 

The strange man turned around, backing up to the edge of the fountain and took a seat.  He just looked up at you with his hidden face and offered you to take a seat beside him. You relented and even though you didn’t know who this man was and you didn’t recognize the voice as anyone you may have met before, you felt oddly calm.  You sat next to him before speaking. 

“I suppose it started at the beginning of the month’s moon cycle.  When the moon was dark and unseen, that’s when it all began. So, a couple of weeks ago.” You fiddled with your fingers, looking at your lap instead of up at his hidden features.  You missed the man’s chin drop as he suppressed the urge to push his palm against his mouth in shock. He just remained still and rotated his hand to silently tell you to continue, not trusting his voice. You sighed. “I normally sit and read before trying to sleep again, but the dreams just keep reappearing over and over again.” 

“You can read?” He asked inquisitively. It wasn’t said in a disgusted tone, not even condescending.  He was genuinely curious. 

“I… can.  My father taught me when I was young and it would be odd if a librarian lacked the skill to read her own books.” He could tell by the way he put his hands together in his lap and pushed his legs up to his toes and back down that he wanted to know more. “My father’s library in town was passed to me when he passed.  My mother had already died so I had to learn to manage it on my own, but that was nearly 5 years ago now. I’ve put it behind me and it isn’t so bad as it seemed at the time.” 

“I apologize for your losses,” the strange offered his condolences. “However, I’ve not known many women to read and write efficiently. Are you ridiculed for it?” He asked lightly as if trying to avoid any conversational landmines. He smiled lightly with a small huff and looked down at your hands. 

“I am, very often honestly.  Truth be told, I seem to provoke men and the wealthy women of the city because of my skills.  I’ve tried teaching children, but their parents berate me. I’ve become deaf to their insults now, however.”

“You’re a respectable woman,” the strange told you.  The compliment seemed so truthful it sent you into a small recoil.  He chuckled as your reaction. “A strong, intelligent woman shouldn’t be deemed unordinary, but revered as a genius.  You all weren’t’ just made for family expansion and chores. Or so, I believe.” 

You burst out into a fit of laughter. You pushed your hand over your mouth, knowing it was late and if you were to wake anyone, they’d stalk into the city center with a stick or ladle, shooing the noisemaker away. You missed the small smile the stranger hid under his hood. 

“I apologize,” you forced between stifled laughs.  He shook his head. 

“No need, I think your laugh is beautiful.” 

You calmed down as you took a breath to regained your breathing. “I’m not sure where you come from, stranger, but you are vastly different from any other man I’ve met.” He was silent for a moment. 

“Believe it or not, I’ve lived in Navern for many years. I’m a bit of a recluse and don’t get out much.  I work from home, in a sense.” 

“Is that right?” You asked, a teasing hint of skepticism. 

“I swear to Luos himself,” He said, cringing at his words.  You nodded. You both continued to sit and talk for a while longer before the moon had moved drastically in the sky.  The stranger was soon standing, taking your hand gently to help you to your feet.  His fingers seemed to linger on your skin as he let your hand go. “It’s getting far too late for a lady to be out. I’ll walk you home,” he offered with no room for rejection. 

When you both stood outside your home, the stranger looked through the dark windows.  The outlines of filled shelves sketching over his vision.  Looking up, he saw a window, probably to your room away from your shop.  You removed the thick, cooper key from around your neck that was on a rope of leather before slotting it into the door. Turning it to click it open. You turned back to the stranger. 

“Thank you for your company tonight. I really did appreciate being able to speak and be myself without being sneered.” Your voice was soft and filled with genuine happiness. 

“I can guarantee that your company and conversation pleased me far more than you.  It has been far too long since I spoke to someone.” His voice was soft and calm, you could hear the smile on his face. “Next time, let’s talk inside and in the daylight instead of sitting outside in the cold.” 

“You would come to visit me, wouldn’t you?” You teased lightly. You were shocked when he nodded immediately. “Well, if that’s the case, could I see your face?” You gently asked, not wanting to pressure him.  He was still a stranger, but you felt so calm and easy about him.  You just wanted to see him just once- but perhaps he would decline your request. He had his hood up this whole time without movement to lower it. 

“I don’t usually show my face outside of my home,” he started and your face started to fall, “however, I think I can make this exception.” Your fae jumped back up as you bit back a smile of victory. He lifted his hands to open his cloak and grip the sides of his hood.  Pushing the fabric back, your smile fell into the face of awe. 

He was gorgeous. Long, black hair that brushed passed his eyes.  His eyes dark but light reflected off them in specs of the most wondrous color. His hair was curled with waves and framed his face well.  His jaw is wide and sharp.  His voice seemed to fit his face a far better than you couldn’t have ever imagined.  He chuckled at your reaction to his face. He put his hands on either side of his neck before dropping them.  

“For the first time tonight, it seems you do not have any words left,” he jested. 

You just licked your dry lips and hid your face, trying not to let your cheek heat too much.  “May I ask one more request?” 

“I suppose,” he drawled. You picked at your fingers, nails tapping together. 

“May I ask your name if I offer mine back?” You gingerly looked up at him, eyes looking up first before your head lifted in follow. You could see a small jolt of hesitation at your question. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’d recognize you anywhere even without your name.” He took that as a compliment of compelling looks. 

He faltered in his step as he moved to take your hand, raising it to push the back of your knuckles to his lips.  His eyes closed gently as he kissed your hand, your mouth opening and your cheek flaring in the cold night breeze.  He opened his eyes as you noticed that one eye had a monolid while the other was double eye lidded. He smiled widely, the purest and cutest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Call me Taehyung,” he cheered lightly. He dropped your hand, as you offered your name back with a small flustered stutter. Y/n was a wonderful name and fit you perfectly.  He watched you go inside and even saw your shadow trot up the back staircase to your apartment.  He looked at the top window and saw a dim light of a lantern you had just lit before he smiled.  

He did feel a bit guilty for not telling you the name he went by now was Luos, but Taehyung was the only name he felt he should give you.  His original name was much less intimidating than the Sun God Recluse, Luos. He flipped his hood back up and made quick work of his way back to the castle. Already impatient to see you again and without him really noticing, the nagging in his chest had subsided. 

It was two weeks ago when your dream started to subside. That night you spent talking with Taehyung for so long seemed to take your dreams away.  You were shocked when he showed up at dusk, knowing at your library door the very next night.  He claimed he couldn’t wait to see you again, so here he was.  You immediately let him inside without a hassle.  

You’ve been talking with Taehyung for two weeks and you greatly enjoyed everything about him.  His attitude was uplifting and even when he spoke about topics that angered him, his anger was justice and the points to support his rage were solid.  He was knowledgable and well versed in many things.  The conversation never died with him. 

You were comfortable with him, especially since he always marveled at your abilities.  He watched with awe as you caught you repaired a shelf once, and nearly ate enough for four men when you cooked for him the first time.  He could read well but preferred hearing you read to him, claiming to love hearing your voice.  

It was no mystery how fast you were falling for Taehyung. The romance was something you didn’t think was optional for you, but Taehyung waltzed into your life at night and wasn’t a creepy serial killer. Taehyung had seriously raised your bar of men’s standards and he probably had no idea how you inside turned into mush when he showed up at your home with his giant, wide smile. 

Taehyung also always only visited you when night was falling and always cloak. However, it was early in the morning once when he decided he couldn’t wait another long day to see you again.  Sneaking out of the castle was harder in the morning, but possible. Still cloaked and hooded, he hid his small smile from the sun’s shadow. His smile wilted when he saw the corner of your library-home come into view.  

You had just unlocked the library door and moved to put the hanging ‘open’ sign you had painted and decorated with Taehyung one night to symbolize for people to come and go as they please. He wanted to smile at the idea of you using it, but the young men around your age coming towards you made his teeth grind. 

You had just hung your sign on the front window of the door on the small nail you had put on the door a few nights ago when you felt a small shove on your shoulder.  Your dress today hit the ground and you nearly toppled over by stepping on the fabric. Your corset of white pushed the dress against your stomach, pushing your chest up, and your torso felt pain as you nearly bent over in the course that was tight. 

You regained balance with a small huff as you adjusted your apron on your front. The two men were two fellow rude boys you had grown up with.  They had yet to outgrow their childish bullying, and you doubt they were would.  You figured they should just marry each other at this point. With rotten, toxic attitudes like theirs, there is no way they’d find wives. 

One man, a small sprout of bone was Lix. The other was a bit broader, but no looker for sure; he was named Horan. Lix was more a verbal fighter, not having much strength when it came to fist to fist confrontation. Horan was the opposite.  He was dead stupid, but his power balanced out what Lix didn’t have.  It was a poetically stupid match made in some twisted heave.  

Lix turned to your sign before taking it off the door and looking it over.  A small frown on his face as he’s eyes squinted.  

“What awful handwriting!” He crowed, even if your handwriting was a perfect script. “I knew it, women should stick to cleaning and looking after little rugrats,” he spits before he threw your sign with a flick to his right.  The wooden plack spun as it descended and hit the road with a puff of dirt.  You gasped lightly before you ran towards it. 

Kneeling in the dirt, you picked it up, the road sticking to your fingertips and filtering under your nails in grounded, small pieces.  Dirt would be pushed into your apron and you’re sure you’d have to dust it and wash it all out later. When you looked at the sign in your lap as you knelt on your knees, you recalled how happy Taehyung looked when it as down.  Your eyes began to tear. 

There was a small murmur of on-lookers who watched the two men push at you.  You knew you had no authority to act out, even if you wanted so badly to shout at them. You’d have no ally if you did, no one stood in your corner.  You were alone and the fact that everyone watching and gossiping you get pushed around didn’t move to help you, only proved your point. 

You could only stamp your feet and curl your fingers around the wooden, painted ‘open’ sign as you held your tears back.  Lix started marching up behind you, you could tell from the dainty footsteps he took.  Horan’s was much more heavy in terms of his weight. You could feel his presence right behind you, the looming feeling of this man looking down on you. He kicked dirt at your back, debris mixing into your hair and rolling down your dresses back from the collar as you shivered at the sensation.  

You felt pathetic as you just let it happen. You could feel him step closer and the shadow you saw from your side showed him reaching out towards you. You expected him to grab your hair and pull you to sit straight. You just shut your eyes in a panic to avoid anyone seeing your unshed tears. 

Lix’s nasty grip never came.  Instead, a near set of steps rushed from in front of  you and came to halt. A shadow of someone blocking the sun from you clouded your shut eyes as you peeked them open. A pair of black boots were in front of your down casted vision. You could vague hear Lix squawking in pain before the new arriver stepped around you and shoved Lix back.  You heard his ass his dirt as he whined.  Horan was soon stomping to defend his attacked friend, but soon the stomping stopped. 

You lifted your head, turning to your back to see who had interfered. You didn’t know of any townsfolk would who defend you. A woman who was so vastly different from others. Your mouth opened to a quivered form as your tears fell. That familiar cloak a blessing to your eyes. 

“Taehyung,” you whimpered. You weren’t shocked to see him, you were just relieved to see you had someone to help you.  You cried further when you realized you finally had someone in your corner.  Taehyung protected you and he had flipped down his hood.  His hair was even more beautiful shining off the sun.  You wanted to see his eyes in this light- it was probably more breathtaking than seeing them in the candlelight of lanterns. 

Horan remained still, frozen mid-charge. Taehyung glared at him and it was blood-chilling enough to freeze the unintelligent giant in his tracks and even silence the gossip of others.  Some even moved to remain their work, trying to play coy as if they hadn’t witnessed the assault without assistance. Lix had picked himself off the ground, not sure where to move to, Taehyung eyes burning them into place. 

“Make yourself scarce,” was all he seethed.  A threat underlined in his words.  Lix and Horan were quick to flee. Taehyung’s shoulders slackened as he turned to you, sitting in the dirt and holding the sign in your arms to your chest, hugging it as if it were some precious treasure. His eyebrows dipped, sad to see your tears.  He moved to you, kneeling to rub his palm against your wet cheek and push his fingertips into your hair, combing out bits of dirt. 

He raised his eyes over you, looking at the people still cocky enough to keep starring.  He glared again. “Return to your duties and mind your business!” He yelled, everyone obeying without hesitation and soon all eyes were off you. Taehyung looked softly back at you before he gently picked you off the ground. 

Walking you into your store, he took the sign and set it gently on the window sill. He locked the door once you both were inside. He rubbed your arm softly as you palmed at your eyes, trying to dry them. Taehyung moved to stand in front of you, grabbing your cheeks and bending to look into your glasses, red eyes.  He rubbed your skin with his thumb, his large hand holding your head. 

“Let’s not open up right now,” he whispered so softly to you. You nodded, not able to trust your voice yet. “He gently pushed his lips on your forehead, his brows crunching as he held his lips against your skin for several seconds, feeling pain in his chest from seeing your own pain. H epulled from your forehead before he grabbed your hand.  “Let’s go upstairs. You have tea? I’ll make you some” You just nodded again, following him upstairs. 

Taehyung spent that day with you. He cleaned your face and wiped your tears.  He reassured you and made you speak your frustrations. He took care of you in a way you didn’t think a man ever would.  He made you change out of your corset and set your apron in the wash bin to soak the dirt stains out. He brushed your hair out before he sloppily pinned it up. He stayed by you all day and far into the night.  When you fell asleep that night, you shocked to wake up the next morning without a single dream to plague you. Even more shocking, you gasped lightly when Taehyung was sleeping in front of you, eyes shut easy and arm under his head as a pillow.  

He never left your side. All that previous and all night, he was there.  You cupped your mouth as a wae of resh tears spilled over the side of your face.  You pushed your face into Taehyung’s neck, startling him awake as he rubbed your back.  

“What’s wrong/ Tell me? Did you have a nightmare?” You just shoo your head as you hiccup. “Y/n?” You cried tears of relief and realization as you finally attempted to yourself that you were in love with Taehyung. So very much in love with him. 

He left the night of day two he had been with you. He wanted to stay longer, stay forever if he could, but he knew he had to get back to the palace.  One day without his appearance wasn’t odd, many assumed he was probably locke din his room. However, any longer and he feared someone would grow nosey. 

He left you that night as you flushed at the kiss he pushed on your forehead. He held your hand softly before he flipped his hood up and ran off.  You went back upstairs, suddenly exhausted and fell into sleep. 

The next morning, you woke up to the murmur outside.  You rubbed your eyes, going to your window and opening it.  There were people whispering with cupped hands as they pointed to your library.  You assumed they were still talking about the debacle two days prior with Lix and Horan. It wasn’t until you came downstairs when you saw two people standing with their backs to the front windows of your library. 

Unlocking the door and opening it, the two people turned to you. They were both men and dressed in guard uniforms. They were from the palace and part of your blood froze. Why were castle guards standing at your storefront? You swallowed as you greeted them. 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greeted trying to remain calm. One stood forward, holding a spear in his arms as the tip pointed high to the sky. He seemed to be the higher rank of the duo. 

“Fine morning, Miss.  I do not wish to alarm you, but we have immediate orders to escort you into Navern Palace.” 

“What?” You choked. You took the time to look around again. You noticed that instead of all judgmental eyes, some gazes were envious or even respectable. They looked at you like you were some higher being or had some power over them. You crunched your brow. 

You were ready to talk to the guards when you felt someone run into your back, knocking you forward a step. You turned around and saw Lix, Horan in front of him his arms stretched out. The bigger man had pushed the smaller and the look Lix gave you when he saw it was you he rammed into was one of almost terror.  He straightened out as he stood beside Horan, both bowing deeply towards you. 

“We’re sorry!” He cried as they ran off like scared children.  Your brows flicked up higher.  What in the world was that? Were they scared Taehyung would show up again? You momentarily forgot about the guards until one cleared their throat to gain your attention back. The one who spoke to you scolded his underling. 

“Do not force her attention by force in such a rude manner!” He shouted as you quickly hushed him. 

“No! It’s fine! I’m not offended or anything.” You sighed when the higher-ranked guards only bowed to you and offered his thanks, the younger mirroring his actions. “So, I’m to go to the palace?” You asked, trying to restart the original conversation. The guards stood right up again. 

“Yes, Miss.  Luos has asked for you.” YOu gasped lightly. 

“God Luos asked to see me?!” The guards nodded.  Your mouth grew dry as you swallowed to try and find saliva.  You licked your dry lips.  “I- okay.” You relented.  If the God of your kingdom really did request you there, you had to go.  You hoped he didn’t mind librarian clothes and a slightly stained apron.  You had no time to change and get ready as the guards had begun to usher you off after you locked your library door. 

As you walked with the two men, you watched some children smile and wave you. Some women stared in awe at you as if they knew something you didn’t. Men looked at you in caution as if they were committing a crime if you met their gaze.  What possibly could’ve happened overnight to get gazes on you in a totally different light? 

The moment you crossed the brick bridge across the mote and stood at the giant gates of the palace, you looked in open-mouthed awe.  The castle was a gargantuan wonder up close.  It took your breath away. The sides of it were as beautiful as the Sun God it housed you were sure.  The idea of you probably meeting the God of the Sun, Luos made your stomach turn.  He had been silent for so long, what did he suddenly pop back into the public gossip for? And to summon you of all people in Navern?

You were lead to a wide, open, beautiful throne room. The throe at the back of the room at the end of the long, golden rug and up 4 steps of marble was empty. No God was there. You stood walking closer to the throne and taking in the fabric, patterns, and creation of it.  Itw as a wonderfully beautiful chair. You gasped with enough force to knock the breath out of you when the heavy, tall doors of the throne room wheezed open again and a voice echoed behind you. 

“Would you like to have a seat on my throne?” The voice so scarily familiar and you hesitated to turn around. Surely your mind was playing tricks on you. There was no way. You heard the echoing steps come closer to you as your back remained towards him. Luos was behind you, that you knew for sure- he addressed this throne you stared wide-eyed at as his after all. You felt him stop behind you, his loom presence burning at your back. “Will you not turn to look at me?” His voice was lower, quieter. You gripped your have stained apron as you took one step forward, putting distance between you and he as you then slowly stepped around to face him.  

Your eyes were focused at his feet.  He walked barefoot.  Golden anklets around his skin. His trousers were black as they were rolled at his shins.  Following his pant legs up, his white shirt was long and loose on his body. Following it up higher, you saw a golden robe of printed suns adorn his shoulders and you could vaguely see bracelets of gold wrap up his forearms like guards. A thick golden collar of jews around his neck and a crown of golden spikes sat on the crown of his head. Dramatic and much like the rays of the sun. 

This was Luos and as you looked into his eyes at his face, you gasped.  This was Taehyung.  

“I hope the sudden call to my home wasn’t too alarming, Y/n,” he told you softly. He could see the confusion in your eyes, but you weren’t screaming yet so he considered it progress.  You just stood there, gaping at him in silence. He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek, making you flinch, but not back away from him.  He smiled softly. “Is who I am truly that shocking?” 

You didn’t know how to politely say ‘yes it fucking is shocking’, because the man you’ve been visiting with the past two weeks was a God.  You gasped, taking another step backward.  He rose his brow in confusion as his hand hovered in the air now. You had let the God of Navern into your rackety all home. You gazed at him in starstruck gazes for hours before. You had told him so many personal events and facts about yourself and you began to flush.  

Luos, God of Navern’s Sun had picked your pushed and bullies body off the dirt road just two days ago and had stayed at your home with you alone for over 24 hours. Your cheeks grew darker.  

You had fallen in love with Luos and you didn’t even know it. 

Was that wrong? You started to inwardly panic.  Was it against some scared law of Gods for a human woman who was clearly outcasted from her city to fall for a God? Even if it was unknown to you in the time you were falling, would it be punishable by some degree? Was that why he called you here?! Had he seen through your obvious red faces and stuttering and brought you heard to punish you for your feelings that you should or should’ve been feeling? 

Taehyung stepped forward, seeing your mind start to flip.  He grabbed your shoulders and pushed his lips against your forehead.  Just as he had before.  He closed his eyes, hoping and praying that you wouldn’t change just because of who he was.  He was guilty of hiding the ruth from you, but what choice did he have? He was a shut-in God only a couple of weeks ago, but now he was determined to change it all. And he’d need the help of a prophet for that. 

“Calm down, dear,” he soothed.  His warm hands pushed against your covered shoulders and you did start to calm. Trying to ignore your warming ears at the endearing name.  He felt you slacken after some time and moved to look at you again, stepping just a bit away from you. “Are you alright now?” You nodded.  He took his hand and pushed your hair from your face to see you clearly.  He smiled at your flushed cheeks. “Red is a color that suits you,” he teased. 

You were silent as you looked at your feet.  Biting back a ‘shut up’ because in all honesty, how do you talk to him now? Wasn’t it rude to be so direct to a Sun God. A royal God who lived in the royal palace of his own kingdom.  You had to watch what you say and say it all respectfully. Taehyugn seemed to know your thoughts as you felt his thumb rub beneath your ear, his hands dipping under your jaw to lift your head up to meet his gaze. 

“Do not change yourself because you see me as Luos. My name truly is Taehyung and everything I’ve told you about myself these past weeks is all truthful. I’ve never once lied and I never once will.” He dipped his eyelids, his eyes pleading with you to believe him. “I don’t want to appear different to you now, so don’t treat me any differently.” 

You raised your hand to push over his that held your jaw the other staying fisted loosely around your apron. Taehyung smiled at your palm’s warmth. He watched you take a deep breath through your nose before pushing it out of your lips. You looked up at him warily. 

“I won’t get punished for being blunt to a God?” You asked carefully. You were blunt, yes; but you were always careful of your words towards him. He smiled. 

“Of course not. Why would you be punished if the God you’re speaking to gave you pardon?” You finally smiled a small bit. One that made Taehyung break out into a smile so large he nearly let out a small giggle at you. The way he held your jaw and squished your cheek combined with your small smile, he almost pushed dimples into your cheeks. 

You both stood in silence for a while before Taehyung dropped his hands from your jaw and moved to hold your hands in his. Threading his fingers with yours.  He was affectionate before, sure.  He would often plop his head into your lap as you read to him and of course he slept beside you that one night he decided not to leave your side. However, his laced fingers with your brought warmth to your chest. 

“Do you remember when you talked to me about your dreams that first night we met?” You nodded. “You remember when you explained that the hooded figure would always appear and you’d wake up?” You nodded again, not sure where he was going with this. “Well, I think that actually was me.” You lightly breathed in an air of confusion. “Sometimes,” he began, “humans are born with something close to supernatural powers. Some can move objects without physical touch, some can see pasts and futures of people, others can even control the mind of others. Then, there are some like you, who are shown prophetic dreams of things to come.” 

“Come to think,” you started with a raising brow, “my dreams did stop after that first night we met. I just thought it was because I finally talked about them. However, you’re saying-”

“I believe you were meant to have those dreams and you were meant to meet me that night. That night I felt like I met someone I was always destined to. Prior to that, I had this nagging in my chest,” he lifted his hand to push against his torso, “and it compelled me to go out into town. It cannot be coincidental that I met you that and the nagging abandoned me.” 

Taehyung stopped his talking before he looked over your shoulder.  He took your intertwined hands and moved to drag you towards his throne. Helping you to not trip up the marble steps, he soon stood with you at his throne of gold. He held your hands tightly. 

“Navern is my precious kingdom I care so much for. I’ve had my time of being reclused and I need to go back into my kingdom and reclaim it with new eyes.  I cannot do that on my own. I need someone to help me and to help keep me balanced and straight. They will also help keep my words strong to my people who believe in me and my Sun.” He took a deep breath before he removed on hand from yours and took to his pocket, pulling a scarlet red sash from his trousers that had a hair comb wrapped inside of it.  

It was a beautiful piece. A golden frame with solid, silver teeth with gaps made to avoid severe tugging of the hair.  You slowly reached out with the hand not held by Taehyung as you ran your fingers over its heavy glory. 

“It’s beautiful,” you told him as he smiled. 

“I know. It belonged to my mother. A long, long time ago.” You looked up at him with a bit of sadness in your eyes.  You knew how he loved his parents, he had told you all about them one night and got a bit more emotional than he’d like to admit recalling so many memories. “I want you to have this now.” 

“What?” You breathed. 

“Y/n,” he put the comb and it’s scarlet fabric in your open palm before he brought your other hand up to sandwich the comb in your hands.  His hands around your own before he lifted them to his forehead. “I want you to help me regain the social regime I have let die. I want you to wake up in this palace day by day with me. I want you to stay here and use this comb as you stay with me as my chosen Prophet.” His voice cracked like he was going to cry admitting it all.  “I’ve never-,” he took a breath, “I’ve never been in love before. I died too young so long ago I never experienced it. However, I know now I’m positive that I’m falling in love with you.” 

Your breath was sucked out of your lungs like a vacuum because of his words.  “Do,” you started small, gaining his attention as he looked at you, lowering your hands back down, still holding them tightly. The comb’s cold material warming in your palms. “Do you really mean all of that?” You squeaked. 

He nodded so quickly as he took a step closer.  His nose was inches from you as he looked down at you. His feet stood between your shoes as he looked back and forth between your eyes.  He truly was a beautiful man. “Yes.  I swear, I-I mean everything.” He was so fearful you’d say no to him. What would he do if you left this palace and didn’t take his words with you? Would he still be able to visit you in town at the library? Would you avoid him? Shun him? He was scared of the negatives. 

“What would happen to the library?” You asked softly. He knew it was important to you. Rundown and aged, yes, but it’s the place you spent your life with your family before they were gone. Taehyung wouldn’t let anything happen to that small, cramped home of yours. He loved it just as much as you. It’s where he spent so much time with you and learned so much about you. Where he ate with you and comforted you and slept beside you. 

Taehyung loved that library. 

“I’d keep it safe. I don’t want anything to happen to that library or your apartment you claim. It’s so precious to me now. I’d make sure no one got inside it to vandalize or. Nothing would happen to it and I’d keep it safe from ruin. If something is weak, I’d work to rebuild and fix it.” 

“You’d do that for a small library when you have such a grand castle?” 

“In a heartbeat. That’s the place I got to spend so many memories with you,” he softly admitted out loud. “You don’t need to agree to my request,” he told you, heartbreak in his voice.  He wouldn’t force his wishes on you, no- never would he do that. 

You slowly pulled your hands from his, opening your palms to see the golden comb in all it’s beauty again.  You then handed it to Taehyung, having him hold it as you unraveled your messy, braided hair.  Holding locks of it ver your shoulder, you looked at him and smiled. 

“Can such a comb even brush such messy hair?” Taehyung’s face nearly split in two at the smile that erupted into his face.  He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, lifting you off your feet and toes to hold you so tightly.  YOu felt his chest breathe heave, relieved sighs.  He set you back down on your feet.

He moved to kiss you again, but not on the forehead.  No, this time his lips fell beneath your eye.  He kissed you and when he pulled his lips from your skin a small mark had begun to outline onto your skin. Shining with golden light before forming the shape of a butterfly, his insignia animal. He smiled again as he moved to sit you down into his throne.  

He then moved to kneel in front of you, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles much like the night he first met you when he left you for the first time.  He kissed your knuckles before he smiled up at you with his innocent, childlike smile. 

“We’ll have to get you accustomed to the castle, my dear,” he giggled.  He began to lead you to a room of seamstress servants to exchange your ordinary librarian clothes with fine, silk robes of the Sun’s golden glow. 

The only thing he kept secret from you now, was the fact that not only were you his Prophet, he also may have told the townspeople that if they mess with his fiance and future wife again, he, the God Luos would not be pleased. Of course, you didn’t have to know you were engaged quite yet.

a/n pt.2 - Tell me all what you think! I spent 5 hours writing this in one sitting and I’m pretty proud of it ngl. So lmk!!

[catrasredemption-moved]

That whole "an abusive mother shouldn't be seen as a mother figure" sitting not well with me.

So can you elaborate on that and not make it super invalidating to people abused by foster/adoptive/psuedo paternql figures?

This feels like a trap, but sure. Buckle up, we’re going back to my childhood.

(this is long, contains emotional/mental abuse, alcohol and drug references, and is just plain unpleasant)

I was emotionally/mentally abused by my mother and stepfather for pretty much my entire life. I was an oops baby, and my bio dad at least had the self awareness to check out my life early because he knew he’d never be a good father (yes, I give him some twisted credit for that, because at least he was honest). My mom was kind of... I don’t want to say forced to keep me, but her family was very insistent. I don’t think she would have gotten an abortion anyway (put aside that this was 1991), but things might have been different if she’d just been allowed to go the same route as my father. Her parents pretty much raised me for six years, partially because she had a full-time job, and partially because she just had no clue what she was doing. And I think having her parents as a crutch for so long definitely limited her.

And then she met Paul. Twenty years older than her, didn’t even have a toaster to his name, alcoholic, drug addict. I was six, so obviously this all went over my head, but my mother’s parents did not like him (something I didn’t find out until years after they both died). My mom was 27 at the time, and I don’t know if she just thought no one else would want her because she was a single mother, if she was just desperate, or maybe she really was attracted to him, but she started dating him. I don’t remember everything that led up to the Breaking Point, because this was 23 years ago, but I remember the specific night - she was on the phone with Paul, and I kept saying I was hungry. I forget what she made, but it was something I’d eaten before and suddenly decided I didn’t like (as children do sometimes), so I was upset.

At this point my grandmother or grandfather would usually step in and just make me something else. Instead my grandfather went upstairs and told her to get off the phone and deal with it. Was I being a little bratty? Yeah, probably. Should my grandparents have just dealt with it? No, that was my mother’s job. Even if it just meant coming downstairs and making me eat the Thing. But she didn’t want to get off the phone (this was 1997, people still talked on phones. Weird, right?)

One huge fight later, my mother put me in her car and drove me 20 minutes to another city to stay with Paul and his roommate. I didn’t see my grandparents for three days. That’s when they learned they had to play nice with Paul or my mother would actually take me away.

We moved in with Paul, after they’d been dating for three whole months. My mother upended both of our lives, including making me transfer to another school after first grade, for a guy she’d been dating for three months. A guy she knew had substance abuse problems. A guy who, when home alone during the day, would sit out in the living room and watch porn (and one time watched it in my room, which? I was eight, I very vaguely remember walking into the apartment, my mother immediately grabbing me and pushing me back into the hall while saying “get that shit off her TV.”)

Some very fucked up things happened over the next twelve years, some I still haven’t told anyone about (including my wife), and some that were just wrong in retrospect. Common occurrences included (some of this might be considered lowkey sexual abuse? I’ve never thought about it that way, but my perspective is skewered af):

Telling me to turn sideways so he could see how I was “developing” (this started at 10)

Inappropriate comments about my weight and how I eat too much (starting around 8 or 9)

Wildly gross and sexual comments about my body (starting around 13)

Coming into my room while drunk and asking for a hug, then holding me for too long and lowkey groping (starting around 13 or 14)

Calling me a whiny bitch (starting around 8)

Yelling at me for eating food, especially if I finished something, because I didn’t pay for the food so why should I get to eat it all (starting around 15)

Yelling at me for daring to go out into the living room and talk to my mother while they were watching TV (pretty much the entire time I lived with them)

Telling me my mother used to have “a great body” before she got sick and lost a ton of weight (I don’t remember when exactly that started, but the sickness in question happened when I was 7)

Trying to tell me about how he and mother were getting hot and heavy while I was at school (high school; one of the only times my mother actually told him to shut the fuck up)

Enjoyed calling me stupid and calling me an idiot and other things that were entirely damaging to my self esteem

Straight up saying, after seven years of my mother insisting we were family, that I wasn’t his daughter and I never would be (13)

Inappropriate comments while drunk, to the point where I knew when he’d be drunk (because it was always pay day), and me arranging to be out of the house for a couple of days just so I wouldn’t have to be there (high school; I went to my aunt’s, and eventually she started figuring out a pattern and asking me what was going on. I was 16 when she finally realized I hate Paul as much as she does)

...to name a few things. And my mother? Knew about all of this. And sure, she tried to stick up for me once or twice, like about the food thing, but even that came with the caveat of “maybe you should stop eating so much.” (before anyone asks, yes, I’m slightly overweight, and this was some grade A body shaming). But for the most part, she enabled him. And when he told me to stop being sensitive and it was “just a joke”? She sided with him and told me to stop “whining” (whining being “trying to defend myself”). She took his side about 95% of the time, while still insisting that he was my father, because he was there and he was helping “raise” me. They’ve been together for 23 years, and she’s basically chosen him over me at this point (because I chose to get the fuck out of the house and take a job in a state 300 miles away just to escape that hell). We actually got into a huge fight about him back in June because I didn’t call to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. He has never met my wife (whom he referred to as my “friend”, and my mother saw nothing wrong with that, then got mad when I tried to say “what if I called him your roommate”), he was not invited to our wedding, and we had a fight last Christmas when I went back to visit and straight up said he wasn’t allowed to visit our hotel (because I never want him to meet my wife).

Do I consider her my mother? ...sure, in the absolute vaguest sense of the word. She made sure I made it from birth to 18, kept me clothed and fed and a roof over my head (while constantly reminding me about how much it cost to raise a kid.)

Do I consider him my father? Fuck. No. I left the house for college when I was 18, moved out when I was 22, have had three therapists, been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and probable PTSD, have gathered a small group of my own found family, and I still carry a lot of shit from that time in my life. I hate showing my body in any way, and tend to wear shirts that are, oh, 2-3 sizes too big. I hate eating “too much”, despite the fact that a) my wife doesn’t care if I finish something and b) I help pay for the fucking food. I get extremely anxious when I try to correct someone about something (like my pronouns), because I’m afraid they’re going to yell at me and tell me to stop being sensitive. My self esteem is still basically at rock bottom, to the point where I don’t believe people sometimes when they say they like my writing. I flinch when people try to touch me (that’s getting better, though).

I can’t even give him the bare minimum credit I give my mother, because he actively hindered my attempts to grow up and move on from the shit he put me through. He was, and still is, a terrible person, and the idea of him being my father makes me sick. I give more credit to by bio father (you know, the one who walked out because he knew he wouldn’t be a good father), because he’s at least made a few half-ass attempts throughout my life to show he cares (and in a way, I think he does, he just knew he wouldn’t be a good father). Paul, though? Paul could die tomorrow and I... I can’t say I wouldn’t care at all, just because he has had such a presence in my life, but I wouldn’t miss him.

If you have an abusive parental figure (be it bio/step/foster/adoptive/etc.), and you consider them your parent, then that’s you, and I don’t judge. But Paul, no matter what my mother says, will never be my father in any way. He actively made me afraid to exist or be in my own home. He left scars so deep that I don’t think I’ll ever totally move on from some of it. I need people to remind me that nothing he did was okay or normal, and that my mother wasn’t right for allowing it.

So basically, I have a lot of experience to back up why I don’t think abusive parents should be considered parental figures. Parents are supposed to help you grow and care about you and want you to succeed. Paul did none of those things. He continues to be an active roadblock in my life, as a matter of fact. And I refuse to feel bad about not considering him a parental figure.

[doc-pickles]

livin’ for the hope of it all

Fun Fact: This is probably my favorite track from folklore (betty is a close second and they’re actually connected in the same storyline) so I created an AU College Sweethearts Jolex storyline just for this. I also needed to change things up because my fics for this week were feeling repetitive, but the good news is that I actually love the storyline and this piece!

(And while we’re at it, shout out to @odd-birds-and-booksellers for beta reading this and helping me clean this up for y’all. ILY and you’re the BEST!)

Also oops I slated this as angst and that just absolutely did not happen. It’s pretty fluffy but uh warning the ending is not happy… at all… So sorry about that.  So without further ado, the folklore fic that stole my whole entire heart!

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

“Alrighty boys, can I get anything else for you?”

“Yeah how about your number, sweet cheeks.”

Jo rolled her eyes, used to the degrading remarks she would often get as a waitress in the greasy diner. The table of young boys didn’t bother her, they were a dime a dozen working in a college town and it was a sure bet that one of them would say something stupid or degrading to Jo.

Ignoring the comments and laughs from the table, Jo began to walk away but didn’t get very far. The boy closest to the edge had tugged her arm hard enough that she went flying backwards, landing in his lap as one hand came up to hold Jo in place against him. 

“Aw come on baby, don’t you want this,” the boy was speaking directly into Jo’s ear, a clear attempt at seducing her that was failing miserably. She tried desperately to squirm out of his grasp, but he only held her tighter. “I can show you a good time.”

“Hey dick wad, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the lady doesn’t wanna talk to you,” a gruff voice sounded above Jo, the speaker holding his hand out to help Jo up. She took it with a grateful smile and stood, wiping off her apron while he continued to stare down the table of now terrified boys. “And don’t forget to tip generously.”

Jo watched in amazement as the man went back to his spot at the counter, eyes trained on the newspaper before him. She rounded the diner once more before walking behind the counter to stand in front of the mystery man, refilling his coffee as she eyed him. 

“Thanks for doing that. Those losers can’t take a hint sometimes,” Jo offered her hand to the stranger, a small smile on her face. “I’m Jo, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Alex,” the man shook Jo’s hand, a crooked grin appearing on his stoic face. “I just finished med school last month, I finally have time to eat breakfast and enjoy a Thursday morning.”

Jo’s response was cut off by her boss yelling at her, her hand coming up to wave to Alex before she bolted to the other end of the diner. Her eyes flicked back to him once or twice, always finding him staring back already. The small action left Jo with a near constant blush on her cheeks. 

By the time Jo makes it back around, Alex is gone. His empty coffee cup sits on top of a $20, which she grabs with a grin. A corner of the newspaper rests on top of the bill, neat block printing across it that makes Jo’s cheeks flame once again. 

‘If you get sick of stupid frat boys, give me a call.’

+

“I hate to say it, but you might be better at darts than me,” Alex let out a chuckle and grabbed his beer, taking a long swig from it as he turned back to Jo. “You have nothing better to do than practice your aim?”

After her shift at the diner, Jo had sat in her car and hesitated all of thirty minutes before calling Alex and asking him to meet up with her at the bar down the street from her apartment. Nerves flying all around her, Jo had finally made it down to Red’s Bar and Grill, meeting Alex with a wide grin and the first round of beers on her tab. 

“Mmm I practice between classes and work,” Jo rolled her eyes, throwing another dart and hitting just outside of the bullseye. “I’m about to start my last year of school at UI. Architecture degree, the boring stuff.”

“Hey hey, I don’t judge,” Alex shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m sure that doodling buildings is just as thrilling as cutting people open.”

Jo let out a laugh, her eyes roaming appreciatively over Alex for the first time. He wore jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his arms and torso, the dark blue bringing out the flecks of gold in his eyes. The low lighting in the bar didn’t help Jo as she tried to concentrate on anything besides the way Alex looked at her, cheeks flushing as she imagined his hands running over her body. 

“Oh you should see me in class, I’m the only woman in my major so,” Jo blindly threw her final dart at the board, relying on Alex’s shocked expression to tell her that she had hit close to her mark. “Had to find something to beat the boys at, keep their egos at bay.”

Satisfied with the dark look that came over Alex, Jo swigged her beer and took a step towards him, her fingers trailing over the collar of his shirt. She’d held back through the three rounds of beers and the pizza they’d shared, but she couldn’t keep her hands off of him any longer. 

“I don’t wanna be too forward but,” Alex finished his beer with one gulp, one hand moving to rest on Jo’s hip. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” Jo breathes out, pulling Alex down to kiss her chastely before letting go and walking towards the exit. “Come on, Doctor Handsome. Let’s go.”

+

Two weeks after their first date, Jo is scrambling during the morning rush to touch each of her tables and makes sure they’re all taken care of. It’s just her and her boss Nancy working this morning, so she’s really busting her ass to make sure that she makes good tips. A hand reaches out, swiping her arm delicately and makes Jo sigh in relief. She was so used to the gentle brush against her arm that it felt like second nature at this point.

“Hey you,” Alex’s voice is soft, something that Jo can barely hear above the rush of the crowded restaurant. “Long morning?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Katie called out sick so there’s only two of us,” Jo groans as she reaches for the coffee pot to refill Alex’s cup. “I have the next two days off though so I’m just trying to make it through this stupid shift.”

Alex’s hand reaches out and grabs her wrist, holding it for the briefest second before letting her go with a grin. Jo can never seem to control the way her heart beats out of time around the man she just met, but she can’t say she hates the feeling of her heart fluttering nervously. 

“How about we drive to the lake and spend a day or two up there,” Alex shrugs, as if the idea of spending a few days away with Jo is the most natural thing in the world. “Just the two of us. I’ve got some camping gear and a hard top for the pickup. We’ll make a weekend out of it.”

Jo’s eyelashes batted against her cheek, eyes roaming over Alex with a focused stare. They hadn’t labelled whatever it was that they were doing (sleeping together, spending nights stargazing in the back of Alex’s truck, meeting up almost every night to drink cheap wine and order whatever takeout was offering a deal, actually just sleeping together) but spending a few days alone was something entirely different. Spending a few days alone was real. 

“You know what,” Jo laughed, leaning forward to peck Alex’s cheek. “Let’s do it. Let’s get out of this hellish town, god knows we both need it..”

The crooked smile that appears on Alex’s face made Jo’s heart stutter again, the look ingrained in her mind so well that she thought she might be able to paint it from memory. 

+

“I haven’t been up here in years, I didn’t realize how beautiful it was,” Jo stood at the edge of the small cliffside overlooking the water just a few feet down. Alex stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist and head propped against her shoulder as they both admired the beginnings of the sunset reflecting on the water. “I’m glad we came up here.”

“Me too, I’m glad I get to spend some time with you,” Alex turned Jo around, his hands squeezing her waist as he kissed her gently. “And I’m very sorry about this.”

Before Jo could respond to him, Alex had lifted her off the ground and jumped off the small dirt cliff, plunging them both into the icy water of the lake. When she resurfaced, Alex was already laughing at her shocked expression. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, Karev,” Jo laughed, feet treading water as she swam closer to him. “Oh you’re so gonna pay for that.”

Alex seized the opportunity in front of him, quickly wrapping his arms around Jo and pulling her body flush with his. His lips meet her neck as she tries in vain to squirm away from him, loud peels of laughter escaping Jo as she let herself relax into Alex’s embrace. 

It’s hours later when they’re laying in the back of Alex’s truck, eyes glued to the sky as they lay wrapped up in one another in a pile of blankets and pillows. There’s a discarded wine bottle next to them and the last embers of the fire they’d built are still glowing. It’s peaceful and quiet and Jo doesn’t think she’d ever felt so relaxed in her whole life. 

“The stars look way brighter out here,” Jo noted as she rested her head against Alex’s chest, eyes closing as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I wish I could stay here forever. It’s the perfect spot.”

“Well this truck bed is uncomfortable as hell so I don’t think us living in the woods would be great on your back,” Alex chuckled as Jo’s hand hit his chest with a soft whap. She sat up then, reaching for her overnight bag and digging through it. “What’re you doing?”

“I got you something! It’s not much but,” Jo pulled out an immaculately wrapped box and handed it to Alex with a wide grin. “I figured it might be handy when you become a hot shot doctor.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow at Jo, before unwrapping the box and popping it open. Inside laid a wrist watch, a silver watch face mounted on a thick leather strap. Jo revelled in the crooked grin on Alex’s face as he took it out and handed it to her, silently asking her to latch it onto his wrist.

“It’s vintage, I found it at a thrift store the other day and I couldn’t resist buying it,” Jo gushed as she adjusted the strap against Alex’s wrist. “I read somewhere that most doctors want to keep a watch on because they’re easier to check and more reliable than digital. And it helps with counting seconds an-”

The rest of Jo’s sentence melted away as Alex pressed his lips firmly against hers. Jo couldn’t help the smile that overtook her, a giggle escaping quietly as Alex leaned her back and pressed her into the truck bed.

“Thank you, you’re more than I deserve,” Alex kissed Jo once more before moving his lips to her neck. “Maybe I can show you how much you mean to me.”

“Mmmm that sounds like a fun way to end the night,” Jo giggled as Alex moved his lips further down her body. “A really fun way to end it…” +

Once the thrill of their spontaneous weekend trip wears off, Jo is surprised at how normal her relationship with Alex feels. It’s August now, Alex’s short break between med school and the start of his internship nearing an end. He had applied all over the country, but the county hospital had been the only one to accept him. 

“I didn’t hear back from Hopkins, Mass Gen, Seattle Grace, or UCSF, but they were all long shots anyways,” Alex shrugged, slinging his arm around Jo’s shoulder and bringing her closer to him on the ratty couch in her apartment. The movie they had chosen rattled on in the background, neither of them paying much attention to it. “Besides, staying here means I get to hang out with you all the time.”

Jo leaned into Alex’s embrace, eyes closing as she relished the feeling of his heartbeat pounding steadily in her ears. She’d become so comfortable in spending so much time with Alex that she didn’t know what she would do when he began to work long nights and days at the hospital. Of course, her own classes would begin in two weeks and then who knew where the two would land up. 

“Mmm yeah I don’t think I can let you go even if I tried,” Jo felt Alex’s hand slip into her own, squeezing gently as he kissed her head. “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

Jo didn't register the hitch of Alex’s breathing, she didn't even notice that he was staring at her so intently. She had dozed off in his embrace, head heavy against his chest as he watched her carefully. He only moved when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, stepping into the other room so he wouldn’t wake her. 

“Hello? This is him. Umm yeah, yeah absolutely. I’m definitely interested. I can be there, I will be there… Three days? Yup. Not a problem. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Thanks Doctor Webber, it’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”

+

“I have to take this stupid Calculus class and I can’t drop it and I already hate it,” Jo groaned as she plopped into the seat next to Alex. It was a Tuesday morning and the diner was near empty, allowing Jo a few minutes to breathe easy. “Honestly, I’m not excited to start classes next week. I’ve been absolutely exhausted the past week and I would rather just sleep until graduation.”

Reaching over, Jo grabbed Alex’s toast and took a bite and then returned it to his plate. She looked at him curiously, watching as he stared deep into his coffee cup and didn’t flinch at her quick action. Alex usually swatted her hand away when she stole his food, or at least said something to her. In fact, she didn’t think he had spoken more than a brief hello to her all morning. 

“Are you okay? You seem off today,” Jo rested her hand on Alex’s shoulder, a pang of relief coursing through her as he leaned into her embrace. “What’s up? You stressed about your internship? Because you’re going to do great.”

“No it’s just,” Alex heaved a sigh and turned to Jo, his normally bright eyes a dull brown. He looked sad, upset almost, but Jo couldn’t tell why. “You know I love you, right?”

A brilliant smile took over Jo’s face, a distinct glow coming about her as she leaned her forehead against Alex’s. 

“Of course I do,” Jo pecked Alex’s lips quickly, one hand coming up to rub his cheek. “I love you too. You’re pretty special, you know that?”

Alex responded with a nod, leaning up and kissing Jo once more. She left the seat next to him after that, checking on her tables and refilling coffees before heading back to him. Alex was shrugging his coat on as she walked up, coffee cup drained and bill paid. 

“Heading out?”

“Yeah I got stuff to do,” Alex pulled Jo in close, lips meeting hers in a kiss that was much more passionate than what he’d normally reserve for the diner. He pulled back and stared into Jo’s eyes, a look of longing filling the dark orbs. “I meant what I said. I love you Jo.”

“I love you too,” Jo whispered back, leaning up and kissing Alex once more before patting his chest and stepping away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, I’m working a double today. Bye Alex!”

“Goodbye Jo,” Alex stood a moment longer in the doorway of the diner, watching Jo carefully as she flitted around the dining room. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool August breeze. 

+

“Hey pretty girl, where’s your hotshot boyfriend now? Dipped out on you?”

Jo tried as much as she could to tune out the catcalls and insults flowing from the rowdy table of boys behind her. What she would give for Alex to come swooping in to save her like he did that first day they’d met, but she knew that he wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen him in so long, the August weather turning darker and colder as the months shifted to autumn. It was November now and between classes and the diner, Jo barely had a spare moment to think of the man she’d fallen in love with. 

Except that she did. 

Every minute of the day all Jo could think about was Alex and how much she missed him. His phone number had been disconnected, his apartment was cleaned out, and she hadn’t seen his beat up red pickup truck since it was parked outside of the diner the last day she’d seen him. She’d even gone down to the county hospital to look for him, but a nurse had informed her that there wasn’t anyone under his name working there, much to Jo’s dismay. 

She knew she was being stupid, that Alex and her had just had a fleeting summer romance and she needed to let it go. There was not going to be a magical reunion like the beginning of Grease, there would be no singing and there would be no happy ending for Jo. But she couldn’t let Alex go, she didn’t think she would ever be able to.

“You need to calm down, I know there’s a lot going on, but you are not helping me out,” Jo sighed, eyes closing as she took a moment to press a hand to her protruding stomach. “I know you get excited when we’re here but today… I can’t deal with the constant kicking of my bladder little boy.”

You know when you’re already down and out and then something comes along and just knocks you flat on your ass? That’s exactly what Jo was experiencing. After spending two weeks straight crying over Alex and insurance commercials and the grocery store being out of strawberry ice cream, she’d finally realized that her period was late and that she just might be carrying the child of a man who didn’t want to be found by her. Three stupid plastic tests later confirmed just what Jo had thought: Come April of next year, she would be a mom. 

“We’ll get through today and all the days coming,” Jo sighed as she spoke to herself, a few tears slipping out and dragging down her cheeks. “It’ll all be okay, things will change for us.”

[itsanerdlife]

Come Back to Me 14/20

Pairing: Clint Barton x Coulson’s Daughter!Reader

Warning: Angst. Drama. Struggles. Violence? Lying. Anger. Soul shattering ache in your chest. Self hate. Doubts. Plot twist!

Playlist

Everything slips right through his hands in the blink of an eye. Clint Barton can fix anything. World Ending? Save it. Bad Guys? Take ‘em out. The love of his life, his soul mate, forgetting their whole relationship? Fight even harder. She might not remember what they have. She might be confused, lost, scared, but it’ll be a cold day in hell if she thinks he’ll give up that easy. He’ll do anything he has too. Help her remember, or make her fall in love with him, all over again. But what if it’s not him that she’s getting close to this time? What if it’s a losing fight? Is he supposed to watch the woman he loves, fall for someone else? Like hell, is he letting that happen.

Tag List Is Open!!

Three months After

You tug the sweatshirt over your head. Dropping it into your lap, you pull your hair up, securing it with a hair tie. You sat in your leggings and sports bra while Peter hooked you up to the monitors. He rolls back to the keyboard, getting the set up ready.

“Monitor testing questions.” He nods looking over at you.

“Okay.”

“Your name?” 

“Y/N Coulson.”

“Where do you live?” 

“Avengers Tower. Formerly Stark Tower.”

“Great.” He nods. Adjusting in his seat. “Alright we’re going to try a sector of triggers for your memory, with last year.” He explains. You take a deep breathe, nodding. “Y/N, do you remember the war?” He watches you.

“Which war?” You ask.

“Fury and the government call it Avengers Civil War.” He explains.

“Civil War?” The words feel funny on your tongue, but your heart rate jumps and your anger spikes.

“Y/N?” He watches your results on the screen. “Your heart rate is high and your anger is in the red.” He warns you.

“What is that?” You bite out.

“You were a prisoner on The Raft, Y/N. Tony and Steve, they couldn’t agree. It split the team apart. Ross had those who followed Cap, imprisoned.” He explains, pictures flicker on the hologram screen in front of you. Sam. Scott. Wanda. Clint. Yourself.

You stand, ripping the press on’s from your skin. Barely registering the sting of your skin. You storm out of the lab. Peter yelling for you, as he scrambles to untangle himself and chase after you.

You knew the team was in the common room, it was usually where they spent their time together. Dinners together, or just decompressing after missions. You didn’t need FRIDAY to tell you where they would be. You’re off the elevator in a seething huff.

“Y/N?” Bucky sits up quickly.

“Stark!” You shove Sam out of your way when he tries to cut you off.

“Whoa Coulson, what’s wrong?” Tony steps back, but it’s not far enough. Your fist connects with his jaw.

“You put me in a prison!? You put a collar on Wanda!” You grab him by the front of his shirt, shoving him into the wall. “You arrogant, self-centered bastard!” A large arm wraps around your center pulling you back.

You shove hard, breaking the hold. Turning to find Steve Rogers looking down at you. Seething anger lights up inside you once again.

“AND YOU!” You slam your hand against Steve’s chest. “You’re so full of stupid from the 40’s you can’t focus on what’s best for OUR family!?” You yell. His mouth opens. “I get it Bucky did things and things he couldn’t control. I would start a war for him too, but you got us put in a prison! After all we’ve done for you Steve Rogers. You’re just as selfish and arrogant!” You point at finger at him.

This time it’s two arms, familiar arms. Trapping your arms down, they pull you back against a firm chest. Anger settles in the pit of your stomach and your blood cools. Lips brush your ear.

“Do you remember?”

“Remember what?” Your head turns looking up at Clint.

“The war?” He watches you.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Y/N, are you sure?” Peter is staring at you.

“I think so, why?” You look at him.

“I only told you Steve and Tony fought, that you were in a prison.” Peter admits. Your head tips.

“What are these?” Clint peels off a sensor tap from your skin.

“Nothing.” You swallow. Shame flooding you as you realize the team is staring at you. You shrink into Clint without realizing it. 

“Where is your hoodie?” Clint asks.

“In my lab.” Peter answers. You drop your gaze to your sneakers, chewing your bottom lip.

“What are you two doing?” Bucky looks between the two of you.

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.” You mutter, pulling away from Clint you hurry towards the elevator. 

----- 

“Wow she has a swing on her.” Tony rubs his jaw. Wanda hands him a towel of ice.

“Peter what are the two of you doing in your lab?” Nat steps towards him.

“Just ah, you know.” He shrugs.

“No I don’t know. But I know my girlfriend left in more clothing than she showed up here in. So, you’re going to walk me through it, before I launch you out the window without your suit to save you.” Clint warns him.

“Want me to break the window?” Buck offers. Each of them looking back at Peter. Clint’s brow jumps up waiting for an answer.

“Ew!” Peter makes a face. “I’m not sleeping with her. You sick, jealous bird!” He groans. “She’s like my sister. What is wrong with you?!”

“So what are you doing Peter?” Steve lifts a brow.

“Performing experiments, to get her memories back.” He admits looking ashamed as he looks down at his sneakers. The room erupts into commotion. Everyone having an opinion on the matter.

“Is it working?” Clint asks.

“I think so.” Peter nods, looking at him.

“Show me.” He swallows.

Together they head to Peter’s lab. He would deal with Y/N later, she needed time to cool off. Peter hurries over to a set up. Y/N’s hoodie on the floor in front of an abandoned chair.

“So I told her about The Raft. I think in her anger, more came back to her.” Peter seems rather excited about it. “We’ve been doing noninvasive experiments, just to help see if we can strengthen her mind, or hell just get her memories back.” He nods explaining. Clint nods, taking the seat Y/N had been in, holding her sweatshirt.

“How do you think it’s been helping?” He wonders.

“I think it’s you. I can’t fully explain it. But you’re her biggest trigger. Look, I did some testing on the two of you.” Peter pulls up a recorded video.

“Do you love him?” Peter’s voice is in the background. “It’s funny. I can’t remember it. But lord,” she laughs “everything inside me says I love him more then I know possible.” Y/N smiles. “I know I hurt him because I can’t remember. But how do I tell him I can still feel it? That doesn’t make sense.” She shrugs. “Your brain just can’t recall falling in love with him.” Peter replies. “No, it can. I was in love with him when he took me to the tower landing pad. I can’t explain it Peter, it doesn’t make sense. I can’t recall the last four years, but I know that even if I don’t get them back. I’m still going to be in love with him.” “Do you remember things? With him and you?” “Sometimes.” She nods. “It’s not like full on memories. It’s pieces. Like small parts to a puzzle.” “Like what?” “Peter this is embarrassing.” She laughs. “It’s for the sake of your memories. Spill.” He chuckles. “Ugh.” She runs her hands through her hair. “Like the first time he touched my hand, when I was leaving Med Bay. I think it was the first time we slept together.” She nods slowly. “Gross.” Peter whispers. She laughs. “Ah when he kisses me. Sometimes it’s like blurry flashbacks. Sometimes when he wraps his arms around me. I get this sense of home, like I’d follow him across the world and trust him with my life.” She nods a small smile on her lips. “You have.” Peter laughs. “Shut up Peter. You know what I mean.” “So no solid memories, just flashes and feelings?” Peter wonders. “Yes. Now turn this stupid thing off. Clint’s training and I want to watch.” She bounces in her seat. “Can’t remember, but knows she likes watching her boyfriend train.” Peter chuckles, she blows him a sarcastic kiss before the video ends.

“She’s trying this, she’s doing this for you.” Peter looks over at him.

“I never asked her too.” He swallows.

“She knows you never would. You wouldn’t agree to her experimenting on herself. This is why she doesn’t tell you. Because she’s scared, you’ll ask her to stop, and she knows she will if you do.” Peter shrugs.

“Agent Barton? Agent Coulson is in a state of emergency in your home.” FRIDAY announces. Peter and Clint exchange a panicked look, before jumping up, running for the door.

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

Everything Peaches 9/3/19 @mo320​ @ml7010​ @courtmr​ @avxgers​ @eliza-kat​ @irepeldirt​ @jordan-ia​ @jcc04220​ @dumblani​ @allyp1023​ @joannie95​ @rogvewitch​ @rileyloves5​ @sarahp879​ @sexyvixen7​ @doctoranon​ @abschaffer2​ @tony-stank3​ @tomhardy41​ @bookluver01​ @drayshadow​ @teller258316​ @wandressfox​ @cutekittybast​ @xoxabs88xox​ @amandab-ftw​ @carostar2020​ @thelostallycat​ @henrietteoaks​ @nea90sweetie​ @circusofchaos​ @bettercallsabs​ @miraclesoflove​ @queenkrissy11​ @shield-agent78​ @elite4cekalyma​ @sadyoungadult​ @destiel-artemis​ @isabelcrichards​ @iwillbeinmynest​ @sweet-honey15​ @scooby-doodoo​ @chanelmadrid13​ @killerbumblebee​ @spookygrantaire​ @geeksareunique​ @supernatural508​ @itzmegaaaaaaan​ @optimistic-babes​ @elizabethaellison​ @rainbowkisses31​ @aspiringtranslator​ @mariekoukie6661​ @pure-princess-97​ @capsheadquaters​ @youclickedthislink​ @futuremrsb-r-main​ @lovemarvelousfics​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @petersunderoos96​ @loving-life-my-way​ @jesseswartzwelder​ @itsy-bitsy-spidergirl​ @buckystolemyheart​ @booktvmoviefangirl​ @thatpeachybandgirl​ @supernatural-girl97​ @abbypalmer14-blog​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @eggingamazinglove​ @deathofmissjackson​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @muffininahandbasket​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @perpetually-tuned-out​ @laneygthememequeen​ @writingaworldofmyown​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @shann-the-artist-moon​ @supernaturallover2002​ @daughterofthenight117​ @mcuwillbethedeathofme​ @verymuchclosetedfangirl​ @profoundllamanickeleggs​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​ @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan​ @crazy-little-thing-called-buck​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @stupendoussciencenaturepanda​ @supernatural-strangerthings-1980​

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @ml7010​ @sfreeborn​ @tanelle83​ @coley0823​ @xxloki81xx​ @boltsgirl919​ @carissime72​ @katpatrova17​ @honey-bee-holly​ @marvelfansworld​ @badassbeckettswan​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @fallinginlovewithqueue​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​

CBTM: @lakamaa12​ @alina-barnes​ @one-of-castiels​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @astudyoftimeywimeystuff​ @thedoctorlivesthroughbooks​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​

[danyka-fendyr]

Absence of Good - 5

Chapter 5:Head Above Water

Hey everybody guess who’s back from hiatus! Okay, so this is a bit of a long one, which I’m actually rather pleased about. I took a break to let my creative muse simmer, and I think it turned out pretty good! Hotch kind of gets more of a spotlight in this chapter, which is important to me because I want to emphasize reader’s connection with the other characters and not just Spencer. What can I say? I’m a sucker for slowburn. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait! (This hasn’t been proofread so it might not be.)

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines​ @rhabakoli​

AoG Taglist: @pancakefancake​ @prettyboyspenerrr​

Wordcount: 3844

Warnings: Generally disturbing themes. Mentions of death, sexual assault, drowning and other dark themes.

        “War is what happens when language fails.”

                 -Margaret Atwood

        You had never been more terrified of an assignment than this one. And that was saying something.

Through everything that had happened to you in your line of work, there had always been an element of a safety net. Despite all the danger, despite the horrors you saw every day, there was some comfort in the knowledge of two things. The first was that you would get to go home at the end of the day to your loving bed. The second was that you were not the target. You were not the target.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked Hotch, trying to hide the slight wavering in your voice.

“You’ve seen the pictures, Agent Y/L/N. I don’t think I need to tell you how sure of this I am.”

You swallowed thickly, holding the glossy images between your fingers. You hated the texture of them between your hands, had never liked the sticky grip of a fresh printed photograph stealing your fingerprints, so easy to mark up. It stressed you out. These photos did a little more than stress you out though.

“How…this is…”

“Uncanny,” Hotch finished for you.

You two were alone in his office, which should have meant bad news to you on any day, but you had hoped for the best. You had thought maybe he was going to tell you off for helping Reid prank Morgan. Perhaps he had actually called you in to tell you some good news. That had been too happy to hope for though.

“Yes. Uncanny,” you echoed.

“The message seems clear enough though.”

“Say it,” you whispered.

Hotch looked reluctant, like the words would sound almost as bad coming from his as they would from you.

“This unsub is obsessed with you.”

Every girl looked exactly like you. Some of the more recent kills had even been made to look more like you. Hair dyed, styled. One with colored contacts to turn her eyes your same vivid hue. No one could blame you for the single tear that slipped down your face and landed on the dark, lemon scented wood of Hotch’s desk. No one could blame you for your complete inability to look away from all of your dopplegangers.

No…not dopplegangers. Replicas. Created to be perfect mirror images of you.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Who-“ You cut yourself off.

“We don’t know.” You had never heard Hotch speak so softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “Agent Rossi and myself are the only two who know about this right now. We thought we should tell you before the rest of the team. We’ve been looking through old cases trying to find someone who escaped but we haven’t met with any luck. Which leads us to believe…”

“That it’s someone I know in my personal life.”

“Most likely.” Hotch’s face was grim, his mouth a thin line.

It aged him, you realized. Every time one of the members of his team was in mortal danger, the years seemed to pile on, making him seem 10, 20, 30 years older than he was. It was jolting to realize that Hotch was not all that old, not in the grand scheme of things. That to Rossi, he was young, comparatively. For a moment you felt you were closer in maturity to Jack, his son, than you were to SSA Aaron Hotchner.

“I’ll go tell the rest of the team,” you whispered.

You tried to move, but you couldn’t seem to do it. For a moment you simply did not have the willpower to rise up out of that chair, an island keeping you afloat just off the continental shelf of the ocean that was Hotch’s desk, a buffer between you two. The terror held you in place, eyes still glued to those pictures, to the broken bodies in them.

“You don’t have to,” Hotch offered, throwing you a lifeline. “Agent Rossi and I can handle it.”

You should have taken it. Should have fallen to your knees and blubbered out your gratefulness. That’s what any sensible person would do. Anyone who had not read too many fantasy stories of heroines who put on a brave face and too many textbooks about how the shock could make you numb to things. If there was anyone willing to play their own brain it was you, and right now you were ready to play it like a fiddle that would be too shocked to process your own grief and terror.

“No. I can do it.”

You wiped your face clean, unashamedly whipping out a compact mirror to make sure you still looked presentable. You didn’t have to bother hiding anything from Hotch. He could care less how much or how little you cared about your appearance, as long as you remained professional. You had always liked that about him. How comfortable he was to be around when it came down to it. How trustworthy.

You didn’t look like you had been crying. That was good. You would lose the respect of 75% of the office if you did, and that was a convenient thing to have sometimes.

“Let’s go,” you said, finally finding the willpower to stand.

You didn’t look at the photos. You couldn’t. Not if you wanted to hold on to the shellshock, the numbness that would buoy you through this briefing.

The bullpen wasn’t ready for your announcement. You could see them all gathered around Spence’s desk, speculating. You knew what they were doing because you had done the same thing on a few occasions. They were trying to figure out why Hotch had called you in, laughing to themselves, smiling. You almost couldn’t bear to tell them, to wipe the smiles off their faces.

You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Spencer was the first to notice. To see the stone look carved into marble features and to freeze, his amber eyes going dark. It didn’t take the others long to notice, to put together your clenched jaw and Spencer’s tense posture. If there was one thing they knew better than serial killers, it was the face of a bearer of bad news.

“What happened?” JJ asked.

“We have a case. Briefing room, now.” You got there before Hotch could.

There was no hesitation, only an icy edge to the air as you all headed to the briefing room, closing the door behind you. You let Hotch do the setup, the man knowing you well enough to know that you wanted those pictures behind you. You couldn’t look at them while you told the team. It was bad enough seeing Garcia’s gasp as she pieced it together, and Spencer…You could barely look at Spencer, first to pick up the pieces, first to figure things out, first to have a thousand emotions flicker across his face. He was angry, he was sad, he was sick, he was terrified.

You tried to start, but the words stuck in your throat, so Hotch gave you a push.

“We’ve all dealt with unsubs of a more personal nature in the past. As you can all see, this is, unfortunately, one of those times.”

“This unsub has a connection to me. Obviously.” You tried to keep the words from shaking, gripping the edge of the table to hide the tremors running through you while coaching yourself to get a grip. “At first, he chose victims who look like me. He’s become more manic though, with less time between kills. It’s no longer enough to wait for girls who look like me. He’s desperate enough that he doesn’t care what they look like, but meticulous enough to model them after me. Additionally, he is still careful enough to pick girls with similar lifestyles. Low-risk victims with strong educational backgrounds, all the same age as me.”

The words were starting to run dry as it felt like the world might slip out from under your feet. You were sure your legs were going numb, sure that someone was freezing all the blood inside your body in some kind of twisted science experiment. You knew he had frozen the bodies, kept them for a while to do things you didn’t want to think about right now. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh, you had to make it through this briefing, had to make the words keep coming, but how.

“We believe this unsub is obsessed with Agent Y/L/N, and knowing this we can only assume that as his cooling off period decreases the danger to Y/N increases. There is some good news though. The unsub seems to be deteriorating, which could lead him to make a mistake.” Hotch took over.

“How did so many of these bodies turn up without us noticing?” JJ asked, horror in her eyes.

“The unsub crossed state lines. He’s clever, very much so. Medical reports indicate that he keeps the bodies frozen for a period of time before dumping them, and there are signs of sexual assault, though it appears to have been done with a blunt object. Some of the bodies he brought across state lines, which only further complicates things.”

“But we’re going to catch this psycho, right Hotch?”

Morgan’s righteous anger was normally calming, but now not even he could reach through your panic.

“We’re doing everything in our power to track down this unsub now that it has been brought to our attention. I fought for them to let our team have this case, so I expect you all to be at the top of your game. Agent Y/L/N, for obvious reasons, will not be apart of the investigation, but rather will be in protective custody.”

You swiveled, your legs nearly giving out beneath you but not quite.

“No she will not be,” you protested.

“This unsub is targeting you directly. The safest place for you to be is-“

“Surrounded by my team. At best, cooped up here. But I refuse to be sidelined and tucked away in some safehouse Hotch. You said I probably know this guy. So who better to help track him down than me?” You appealed to Hotch’s sense of reason, that sense that always won out with him. “You need me for this Hotch. You can’t find this guy without me.”

Just when you thought Hotch would agree, Spencer stood from the table, slamming a hand down with more aggression than you thought him capable of.

“Absolutely not!”

You felt the blood rush back to your extremities as it rose to color your face, Spencer’s protest bringing you back to yourself. You clenched your fists, turning the full might of your own fury on him even as he stared at you with eyes that seemed to blaze with fire.

“Reid, she has a point. She’s the only one who knows the unsub-“

“So we’re just going to use her as bait?” You had never seen Spence so livid, his eyes tearing up with the emotion. “I won’t let you put her in danger like that, Hotch. She shouldn’t be anywhere near this case.”

“I’ll be wherever I need to be, and right now that’s here, Spencer.”

There were few people who could match Dr. Spencer Reid. His mother was one of them, an unstoppable force. The eccentric, immutable Gideon, you had heard, was another. You were the third, fire rising to meet fire, washing out any trace of ice, any danger of drowning that might have existed before this moment, this challenge. There were a lot of people Spencer Reid was good and entitled to boss around, but you were most certainly not one of them.

“It’s too dangerous, I won’t let you-“

“Won’t let me? Well I’ve got news for you Spencer, you’re not my boss. You have no claim over me, no say in what I do or don’t do. I’m helping with this case because if you ever want to find this guy, you need me.”

Spencer looked like he was going to say more, but Rossi interrupted him. A dangerous thing to do for anyone other than Rossi.

“She’s right, kid. I hate to say it almost as much as you do, but she’s right. A case like this, could be anyone. You know that. You also know it’s entirely possible that she’s the only person in the entire world who can connect the dots. We’re not just throwing her to the wolves though. We’ll keep her safe.”

You had never seen Spencer looked so betrayed as he had now, looking first to Rossi, then turning to the rest of the table in a silent plea for support. He found none. Reluctant as the team was, you had made your point.

Turning on his heel, Spencer stormed out of the room. You had half a mind to follow him, but it was Rossi who held you back.

“Let him go. He’ll come back soon. He won’t be able to leave you alone at a time like this.”

You didn’t know where Rossi’s certainty had come from, but you could hear it in his voice, and you decided to trust him on this. After all, you would have to trust your team on a lot until this guy was safely behind bars.

The next few days were taxing, to say the least. You had gone through just about every person you had ever met trying to figure out who the unsub was. People you were close to, people you had barely known, and everything in-between. You were about ready to give up, nearly asleep with your head on Garcia’s desk as she cast her sympathetic gaze your way.

“Honestly, it really could be anybody. Sometimes these guys just see you smile at them once in the street and they’re insane for you. They’re wacky.”

“You can say that again.” You sighed.

You were in an extra bad mood tonight. You and Spencer hadn’t been talking lately, not since your fight over whether you should be involved in this. Despite the fact that you were confined to Garcia’s office and that Hotch wouldn’t so much as let you go home, Spencer’s vow of silence did not lift. It seemed as though he was refusing to condone your involvement in this with words.

Which was just as well, you didn’t need him. That was what you were telling yourself. You were just cranky and on edge because of everything else going on in your life. Heaven only knew you had a right to be.

“Boy genius still not on speaking terms with you?”

To add to your stressors, Garcia had been getting unnervingly good at guessing your thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk about him right now. Any activity from the unsub?” You quickly changed subjects.

“Well I haven’t heard from them in a while, but let me ask my brown sugar.”

Deftly pressing buttons, Garcia dialed Morgan, putting him on speaker so you could hear too.

“Hey baby girl.”

“Hello my gorgeous chocolate thunder. I was wondering, could you perhaps update me on the situation?”

“For you? Anything. We just got done talking to the M.E. about the newest body. Apparently he’s now taken to dressing them up as cheerleaders, presumably in reference to Y/N’s high school cheerleading career. Anyway, not much else has changed about his M.O., nothing we’ve noticed yet anyway-“

“Wait…Morgan…did you just say he’s dressing them up in cheer uniforms?” You asked.

“I sure did. Why? Does that mean something to you?”

“Morgan…I was never a cheerleader.” You felt like all the air had been swept out of your lungs. “I don’t think this is about me.”

The team had all headed back to Quantico at record speeds, made faster by the fact that the unsub had been getting closer and closer to Virginia in his killing sprees. They were now assembled in front of you in the briefing room, but this time you hoped to shed more light on the situation.

“When I was 16, I fell in with a bad crowd. Well, not a bad crowd, but you know. Not my kind of people. I was a quiet book nerd and they were party people. Anyway, I was going through some things and I wanted to be cool, so I let them convince me to go to this party. Long story short, it wasn’t fun. The highlight of the night though, I remember, was this girl. Amber Melfort. She and her boyfriend got into this big fight, and it was obvious he was drunk. He hit her, hit her pretty hard, and she fell. Fell into the pool, and didn’t get back out.

Her boyfriend, as you may have figured out, was not a class act. I think he thought that if she really was dead then if he left her there nobody would know it was him. I don’t really know what he thought, to be honest. Don’t really want to know. Anyway you slice it, that didn’t sit right with me. He walked away, but I dived into the pool, fully clothed, and managed to drag Amber out. Did CPR, got somebody half-sober to call 911. At the end of it all, Amber pulled through and her boyfriend, Matt, got kicked off the football team.”

“No offense, but I’m not sure I see how this is related to the case.” Emily’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Amber was a cheerleader,” I said. “Whatever this is about, it isn’t just about me. It’s also about Amber.”

Emily’s eyes widened in understanding, as did everyone else’s at the table.

“It’s certainly worth looking into. Reid, you and Dave go interview Amber Melfort, find out whatever you can. Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to find the boyfriend and make a house call.”

You all collectively scattered, and you and Garcia went back to researching whatever else you could.

“Alright, looks like Amber lives alone not far from here. Apparently she’s been dating a life guard, irony of all ironies, and according to her social media…Oh, major bummer. Turns out up until a couple months ago they were engaged until she broke it off because he was cheating on her.”

“Poor Amber,” you said.

The girl deserved a break.

“Yeah. Okay, so anyway, she hasn’t had any contact with the boyfriend, Matt, in years. He doesn’t live too near here either, which might be why the killings started further out but seem to be circling in.”

“Any stressors in Matt’s life?”

“Oh beautiful baby doll you know that I already looked and weirdly, I have not come up with much. It would seem that, to all appearances, Matt is living the perfect life. In fact, he even just got married. And other than their status as Facebook friends, he and Amber no longer have any kind of connection. He hasn’t even liked any of her posts in over a year.”

You felt the wind get knocked out of you. “I guess my theory was wrong then.”

“Seems like that might be the case. I’m sorry angel cakes.”

You were more than ready to give up. You had been ready to give up for weeks, but now? Now you were convinced you were going to be drowned and buried in a cheerleading uniform.

It didn’t make sense. All of the signs had pointed to a connection to Amber, right down to the drownings which you hadn’t been able to connect before the cheerleading outfit. You were at your wit’s end when your cellphone began ringing.

You did a double take when you saw the number. Spence rarely called, but right now he was angry with you. It didn’t make any sense for him to call. Unless…maybe he had found something. Heard from Amber that there was someone else who was a potential danger.

You picked up the phone, hoping against all hope, only to be filled with cold fear.

“Y/N, it’s Dave. My phone is dead, but we’re on the way to the hospital. Spencer’s been hurt.”

“I’m on my way.” Screw the unsub, you were not leaving Spencer alone in some stupid hospital.

“Okay. Let me know when you get here.”

When you arrived at the hospital, you found Dave quickly and he explained everything that had happened to you. Amber had been the unsub all along, dealing with her trauma the only way she knew how.

Her fiancé cheating on her had been the stressor. Apparently Matt had been cheating on her way back when and that was what they had been arguing about at the party just before he struck her, nearly dooming her to a watery grave. In a twisted reenactment, she had been playing out her memories by killing not herself, but the girl who had come to save her, all in the hopes of gaining your attention. She had become obsessed with you and with your work, and ultimately it led to her revealing herself and having a shoot-out with Spence.

“Is he okay?”

“The doctors think he’s going to be fine. She only grazed his arm,” Rossi reassured.

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I go see him?”

“Yes, I think they’re allowing visitors now.”

You didn’t stay behind to listen to Garcia’s speeches about charts before charging ahead.

“Spence.” You breathed a sigh of relief seeing him awake.

He looked towards you and for the first time in days, a hint of a smile pulled at his mouth.

“Hey,” he said. “Did you bring me Jell-O?”

“No. But I can,” you said, turning to go get some.

“No! I mean, that’s okay. Don’t leave yet.”

He looked so pale under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital. A white bandage wrapped around his arm and nearly matched his skin as well as the sheets. The dark marks under his eyes stuck out even harsher for it.

You drifted over to his bedside, taking a hesitant seat in the hard, alcohol scented chair next to his bed.

“Listen…Spence…I’m sorry,” you confessed. “I’ve been stupid. When I heard you were hurt, all I could think about was how if you died I wouldn’t have gotten to tell you…Well, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that I’m an idiot. You were only trying to protect me, and I’m sorry for not seeing that and respecting it.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you, shouldn’t have wasted all that time being mad at you for being right. In the end, you were the one who solved the case and the one who saved the day. Even when you aren’t in the field you’re a brilliant agent, and I…I was just worried. I thought maybe I could lose you, and if I did…I don’t want to think about what would happen. So please forgive me for being so selfish and stubborn.”

You smiled softly at him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Forgiven.”

He smiled widely at you, a smile you hadn’t seen since before the threat to your life. “I’ll take that Jell-O now.”

“Coming right up.”

        “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

                 -G.K. Chesterton

[sunkissedpages]

sunkissedpages masterlist

“You shouldn’t write if you can’t write.” -Ernest Hemingway

Well here I am, bitch.

💦 = nsfw (18+) minors dni you will be blocked

✦ match his freak 💦

your husband’s attempt at getting you to stay in bed with him

✦ We’re Only Kidding Ourselves COMPLETE (oct. 19)

You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

✦ Breaking Curfew COMPLETE (jul. 20)

When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

✦ Instead of You (in progress)

You didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

✦ No Nut November 💦 (I’m a dumbass)

…..Tom takes the No Nut November bet with Harrison leaving you confused as to why he’s acting so strange. (2018 + 2019 + 2020 + 2021)

✦ Traditions with a Twist 🎄

Meeting Tom’s parents for the first time and spending the Holidays with them. (There’s also gingerbread house building lol)

✦Petals and Thorns

Tom always brings you flowers when he’s thinking of you, and you want to switch it up and return the favor. Sometimes you just have to treat your mans.

✦ Just Another Thursday Night

As far as commercial holidays went, Valentine’s Day was your least favorite. (My Valentine for @technicolor-lightning)

✦ In The Dark

a road trip with your boyfriend doesn’t exactly go as planned

✦ Midnight Delays

having a conversation across train platforms isn’t very practical

✦ Arm’s Length 💦

you’re sick. you’re supposed to go on the far from home press tour with tom, but you don’t want to get him sick. a compromise is made.

✦ 3 Nights 💦

a one-night hookup turns into three (based off of the song 3 nights by dominic fike )

✦ White Christmas 🎄

every year on christmas morning the hollands wear matching pajamas... yeah they’re one of those families 

✦ The Method | The Method Pt II 💦

taking method acting to the next level

✦ Pretend 💦

reading thirst tweets with your co-star/boyfriend’s best friend makes things a little tense

✦ Dirty Reflection 💦

fulfilling a long held fantasy with your boyfriend (cockwarming him in front of a mirror)

✦ Desperate 💦

the first time tom fucks you raw (sponsored by irresponsible decisions)

✦ Something More 💦

it’s a tale as old as time- your roommate walks in on you masturbating and things escalate from there

✦ High-rise 💦

walking around your apartment naked has never been a problem, since you live in a high-rise and no one can see in, at least that's what you thought...

✦Bloodlust 💦

your vampire boyfriend drinks your blood for the first time :)

✦ Once Bitten 💦

locked in a museum until morning with a vampire that hates you is not how you imagined your night going

✦ Repent 💦

your one-night stand claims to be a vampire, but you’re just trying to get some dick

✦ Indulgence 💦

you and your boyfriend decide to try something new- aka letting his fraternity brothers watch him edge you (ft. harrison and some others)

✦ We Could Call it Even 💦🎄

(based off of ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift) running into someone you haven’t seen in years makes makes old feelings and nostalgia resurface just in time for christmas 

✦ Right Now 💦

sleeping with tom for the first time is more intense than you anticipated

✦ and then some 💦

tom interrupts your date

✦ Under the Weather

You wake up sick one day, but avoid telling your boyfriend, Harrison because you know he’d leave work to take care of you.

✦ Late Night Resolutions

after a fight with Harrison you spend new year’s eve at a party without him where you end up breaking your nose.

✦ Sun Kissed 💦

more like sunburned. On vacation with Harrison you lay out on the beach for a little too long, making for a very interesting night.

✦ Andante, Andante 💦

when in greece... you lose your virginity to your best friend?? that’s how the saying goes, right??? (based off of the song andante, andante from mamma mia! here we go again)

BLURB MASTERLIST

HEADCANON MASTERLIST

MTL + REACTIONS

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 2

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who’s smile is phenomenal and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 2 of ?

Part 1 // 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.  I’ll make a header image at some point.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

There’s a heavy weight settling on Billy’s chest as the morning sun falls through the curtains. As he lifts his head off of the pillow a pair of copper coloured eyes stare back at him. The cat softly snuggled up on his chest, is more the size of a small child than a cat. It’s big and orange and looks like it’s got no care in the world as it rests on Billy’s ribcage.

Billy lets his eyes wander around the room, trying to take in as much as he can. It’s a tiny room with a couch that’s way too small for him to sleep on properly, but incredibly comfortable nonetheless, and a tv pressed against the opposite wall. There’s a dirty ashtray resting on the couch table next to a seventeen magazine and a vial of bright red nail polish. 

(Y/N) lives here alone, safe for the monster of a cat, he’s figured out this much. There’s hardly room here for a visitor, much less another person. God, what he wouldn’t give for a place of his own. Some place that isn’t tainted with anger and sadness and bad feelings all around.

“ Oh, you’re awake. Great, I made breakfast ! “ 

Billy leans up a little further, resting his weight on his elbows and yet the cat shows no intentions of actually moving off of him.

(Y/N) is leaning against the counter of the kitchen that’s connected to the living room. There’s a light blue fridge flanked by bright orange cabinets and a rusty sink and a stove that seems like it’s about to fall apart any second. It all looks like a downright mess and still Billy finds himself envious. Because no matter how big of a mess, it’s solely hers. 

“ Your cat is suffocating me “ his voice is rough and still soaked with sleep and exhaustion.

“ I told you he’s fat and clingy. He likes you though, that’s good. “ 

“ What’s he do to people he doesn’t like ? “ 

“ Pees on them. “ 

“ Geez “.

Slowly Billy sits up further, the cat slowly sliding down from his chest and into his lap. 

“ Just pick him up and put him down somewhere else. “ (Y/N) directs him nodding her head towards the orange furball.

Billy does as she says, getting off the couch and placing the cat back down, before walking over towards the kitchen area of the apartment.

“ Here. Breakfast for champions “ (Y/N) exclaims and hold out a bowl of what looks to be lucky charms and a spoon. It’s a plastic bowl, a bright orange one that looks like a basketball. He remembers having one of those when he was little. It was his favorite and mom always used it to serve him alphabet soup when he was sick.

“ Thanks. “

“ Sure thing. That’s a pretty gnarly looking fist you got there. “ 

Billy glances down towards his hand. It’s red and swollen and bruised and it looks ridiculous holding onto the basketball bowl. Like his present is holding onto a part of his past that he can never go back to. A part of his past that seems like a whole lifetime ago. That feels like a whole different person all together.

“ Whatever “ 

And really, it is whatever. In the grand scheme of things it’s just a bruised first and some bloody knuckles. The implications of it to be forever his and only his to know about. 

“ So do you do this often ? “ he asks, trying to steer the topic away from himself and his wounds, visible and invisible. 

“ Do what exactly ? “ 

“ Let strangers sleep on your couch. “ 

“ You’re starting to sound awfully ungrateful there Hargrove. And that even though I made you breakfast ?! “ 

“ You poured a bowl of cereal “ 

“ Your point ? “ 

And it’s then, that Billy has to crack a smile. It’s not as if he doesn’t smile during his day to day life. He does. A lot. Only usually they come in order to get something in return.

The smiles come whenever he wants to get a girl into his bed. Whenever he charms the ladies at the swimming pool. Whenever he tries to sweet talk his way out of a situation.

This one comes from some place else. He doesn’t get anything in return. He doesn’t need anything in return.

Sometimes a smile is just a smile and that is all it needs to be.

“ How old are you ? “ 

“ Excuse me ? You’re kinda giving me whiplash here with the change of topics. “ 

“ Yeah that didn’t answer me question at all “ he says and shoves another spoon of lucky charms into his mouth.

“ I’m 17, almost 18. I’m in my senior year. “ 

“ And you live here by yourself ? “ 

“ Yup. Got emancipated when I was 15. “ 

He almost chokes on his cereal at that confession. It’s not something he has been expecting. Sure he was aware that something must be going on in her life but things must be pretty rough for someone to get emancipated at 15. 

Again he finds himself envious. Of the freedom. The independence. Of all the possibilities she has. The one he can’t even dare to dream about, living with Neil.

Envy is ugly and mean and cold and it comes with anger and resentment that directed towards people who do not deserve it in the least. He tries so hard to keep it at bay, shove it down to rest with all the other emotions, all the rest of the baggage. He knows one day it’s all gonna boil over. It comes in little bursts every once in a while but one day, one day there’s gonna be a big meltdown. One that’s gonna sweep over everything like a tidal wave. Like one of the real big ones he used to surf back in California. Back Home. Back when things were better and mom was around and his chest wasn’t feeling so heavy. 

“ Damn, what happened ? “ 

“ That is none of your business. Just uh — you’re not the only one who’s family life isn’t all sunshine and daisies. “ 

There’s something in her eyes as she says that, that seems oh so familiar to Billy. Not because he’s seen it before but because he knows that gleam, he’s felt it before. So many times over so many years. 

People say that misery loves company. That a trouble shared is a troubled halved. He thinks that bullshit. People who say this live comfortable lives. They don’t know real misery, haven’t lived through it.

Billy doesn’t ever want to see the pain he feels in other people. Not that same kind of pain. Physical one he’s caused his fair share of, but emotional pain ? Nah. That’s something he doesn't ever want to see in another one’s eyes. And as it stares back right at him from (Y/N)’s (Y/E/C) eyes, it doesn’t feel like his pain is halved, it seems twice as heavy, twice as painful.

“ Look, that actually brings me to my next point. You gotta get outta here. I need to leave for work in about 20 minutes so … “ 

“ Volunteering isn’t until 4 today, it’s sunday you gave me the schedule. “ 

“ Yeah well, Billy Idol, volunteering doesn’t pay my rent. I work at a diner. “ 

“ A diner ? No way. Do you have a little apron and everything ? Pencil behind your ear ? “ he teases, finishing his bowl of cereal and placing it in the sink.

“ Would you believe it if I told you I even got roller skates ? “ (Y/N) replies and pulls up her lip in distaste.

“ No fucking way “.

“ I wish I was lying. “ 

“ Here in Huckley ? “ 

“ Mmmh… “

“ Dammit, I knew Hawkins was a shithole. Can’t believe this even tinier shithole has a diner with roller skating waitresses and Hawkins does not. “

“ Ah don’t worry, they’re not all as hot as me. You’re not missing much. “ as she says it, she’s smiling and the hurt in her eyes is almost gone. But once he’s noticed it, Billy is sure he will never fail to find it again. It’s always there. Simmering. It’s part of her just as it is part of him. It never goes away, at least he hasn’t experienced that. Maybe someday in the future it will. He hopes so. He really truly hopes so.

“ Bummer. “ 

“ I know. Anyway, you gotta go. “ 

“ Geez, you’re hurting me babe. Usually it’s me kicking the girls out of my bed. “

“ I’m sure your ego will survive. I’ll see you at volunteering later, right ? “ 

“ Court ordered, remember ? “ He says, slipping on his jacket and boots and walking towards the door.

“ I’m sure you’ll have a good time today. We’re doing arts and crafts “ 

“ What ? I haven’t done any arts and crafts since 4th grade. “ 

“ Well then it’s about time your start again, huh ? “ 

“ Are you shitting me right now “.

“ Oh Billy, I would never !” 

- XXX -

When Billy arrives back home, he’s grateful to see Neil’s car is not there. Sooner or later he’s going to have to deal with the situation but he sure as hell is preferring “later”. 

The thing with Neil is that whatever he does, it’s never predictable. Sometimes he’ll yell, sometimes he gets physical and sometimes, those are the worst times, he says things. Mean things. Things that he knows very well will hurt Billy. Things that feel like a stab right into the heart. 

There’s a sick sense of pride in Neil’s face whenever he has one of those days. Like hurting Billy brings him satisfaction. A weird gratification.

It’s disgusting. And sad. And it makes Billy so furious. If Neil wasn’t like this, so sick and twisted and always angry, mom would still be here and they’d still be in California and he’d be a normal teenager with normal problems. No bruised knuckles, no black eyes. A teenager that wouldn’t have to be afraid to come home. Home, this place doesn’t even feel like home. It never did. It probably never will. 

Billy doesn’t know where exactly home is. It’s not here though. 

He slowly trudges through the house, taking note of Susan’s shoes being gone as well. She always leaves them by the door because “ that’s just the way people do it”. Like a proper little housewife keeping her proper little house neat and tidy for her proper little family. It’s making him sick. There’s a lot of anger in him directed towards Susan. Some of it is justified. Some of it is not. He knows he shouldn’t fault her for what happened with his mother. Susan isn’t the one who drove her away. Susan didn’t smack her around day in day out. Susan isn’t the one who decided to just up and leave, forgetting all about her son. Susan has done none of that and he knows he can’t resent her for this.

There’s part of his animosity towards her that is more than justified. She knows what’s happening sheltered behind the walls of this house. She hears it and sees it. This woman has a front row seat to Billy’s misery and she does nothing. Just watches and waits and stays silent. To top it all off, she brings her daughter into this place. Billy wonders if it was Max instead of him, would she still be watching. Would she act ? Despite his problems with Max, he hopes he never has to find out. He doesn’t trust Susan to stop the watching and actually act. 

A mess of red locks dashes around the corner and collides with his chest effectively pulling him from his thoughts.

“ Watch it, shitbird. “ 

“ Sorry “ Max murmurs then hurries past him, only stopping just before the front door, hand already on the handle.

“ Billy ? “ 

“ What ? “ 

“ Are you okay ? “ 

Is he okay ? Yes. Billy is always okay. It’s his default setting at this point. Billy Hargrove — okay. There’s a certain amount of pain you can go through until you become kind of used to it, kind of numb. It seeps into your system and settles deep inside your bones and becomes a part of you and before you know it that’s your normal and you’re okay. But is that really a way to live ? He wonder often. To only be okay, never fully happy. Halfway happy at best. Always okay never more. 

Billy is okay — but he really doesn’t want to be anymore. Okay is not enough.

“ Yeah. Why ? “ 

He knows Max cares, that’s just the person she is. She cares deeply even if she hides it under a veil of teenage rebellion and girl power. He doesn’t want her to, can’t really let himself accept the fact that she cares. Max, with all her spunk and sparkles, is a constant reminder of the life that was taken from him. One with a mother who loves him. One who doesn’t run off and leaves her to fight for her own survival.

And yeah maybe Susan just silently watches but at least she’s there. At least she loves Max enough to be there and no abandon her.

Billy wishes he could let go of the negativity and just accept Max affection. But he can’t. He can’t. Affection that isn’t sexual, is not something Billy ever really gets to keep in his life so it’s better not to feel it at all than to feel it and have it taken away again at some point.

“ I dunno. Just — last night “ 

“ Yeah, whatever. Just forget it alright ? It’s none of your business anyway. “ 

“ Alright, god. I was just asking. “ 

“ Yeah well don’t !” he calls out to her before rushing into his room, slamming the door behind him.

As he looks at himself in the mirror, Billy can hardly recognize the person staring back at him. It’s been like this for a while. He feels very detached from it all. Like he’s living a life through a hazy filter, clouded by anger and agony. His mom would be disappointed in him. For dealing with things the way he does. For treating people the way he does.

Then again, his mom has given up the right to judge him when she pissed off and left him behind.

A glance at the clock lets him know that he’s still got a few hours before he has to be back at HHTCY. He presses play on his stereo and Metallica sounds through the house at a deafening volume.

What he needs now, is a smoke and a shower and in that order.

- XXX -

“ Why are we doing this again ? “ Billy asks as he helps (Y/N) distribute the arts and crafts supplies to all the kids.

“ It helps “.

“ Helps with what ? Confirming that someone is crazy ? “ 

“ No one here is crazy you asshole. No it helps with dealing with stuff. “ 

“ Does it now ? Is that what you say or what the looney doctors tell you ? “ 

“ Look “ (Y/N) says as she places a set of paint brushes on one of the desks “ this is fun for the kids and the experts say it helps them so who am I to question that ? I’m just a volunteer, hell I still go to Highschool “.

“ Oh yeah, you don’t go to Hawkins High do you ? I would’ve seen you. “ 

“ You would’ve not but uh — no. I go to school here in Huckley. Huckley High, Home of the Huckley Honey Badgers. “ 

“ Huh, “ Billy says and suavely leans against the supply closet “ didn’t think this tiny shithole had it’s own High School. And with it’s own team and mascot too. Impressive. “ 

“ Lose the snarky remarks please. I’ll let you know Honey Badgers are vicious and mean and dangerous, okay ? “ (Y/N) remarks and waves around the brush she’s got in her hand, pointing it at Billy every once in a while “ but yeah, it’s just a tiny High School. No big deal. I bet your School in California was different huh ? “ 

“ Was just a fucking High School like any other. Wait — how do you know where I’m from ? “ 

“ You have a California license plate, “ (Y/N) replies before turning away from him “ and I may have read your file. “

“ You did what ? I — that is 100 % against company policy ! “ 

“ Yeah well so is smoking on the premises and I didn’t rat you out so I guess we’re even. I had to know what I was dealing with here. “ 

He’s not mad really, it’s not like there’s things in there that he doesn’t want anyone to know. The things he keeps hidden aren’t written down in any file, they’re in his heart locked away from prying eyes. Safe. Secure.

“ Hey (Y/N), there’s a call for you”. Another volunteer, Jeff, says motioning towards the back office adjacent to the arts room.

“ A call ? “ 

“ It sounded urgent, I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me his name. “ 

So it’s a he. A boyfriend maybe ? 

Billy quickly shakes that thought from his mind. That’s not a mess he wants or needs to get into right now. Is she cute ? Yes, she’s gorgeous but things are all around fucked up at the moment and he doesn’t need to add a heartbroken coworker into the mix. You don’t fuck around at work, that’s common knowledge. 

“ I told you not to call ! I work here, how did you even get this number. “ he picks up bits and pieces of the conversation that (Y/N) whisper-yells into the phone. Maybe not a boyfriend after all.

“ Well don’t. Don’t call again. Leave me alone. “ when she hangs up the phone, she leans against the wall for a moment, letting out a big breath. Something is weighing on her, it’s clear as day and thought Billy doesn’t want to get involved with anyone else’s problems, he’s still curious about what just happened.

“ You alright ? “ he ask when she comes back “ boyfriend ? lovers quarrel ? “.

“ Fuck off, Billy “ (Y/N) replies, all joking and teasing gone from her voice. She looks around for a second to see if any of the kids have picked up on her swearing. They didn’t or if they did they don’t seem to care. 

Lydia stands in front of the class, telling the kids some pseudo deep shit about painting their feelings and all that crap that they seem to believe in here. Billy thinks it’s absolute bullshit. There’s problems that can’t be solved by drawing rainbows and singing songs around the campfire. It’s a disservice to the kids to make them believe that’s how the world works, with paint and songs and good thoughts. 

“ What I want you to paint today, is a happy memory. A moment you can remember being completely content. “ 

Billy can’t help but let his mind wander, trying to come up with a happy memory of his own. His thought immediately go back to California, that’s where he used to be genuinely happy. Even thought it was a long time ago he can still picture it in his head like it was yesterday. The only joy he feels in Hawkins is when he’s balls deep in his latest conquest, but California ? California at least held moments of a happy past. 

He pictures the beach, the waves that seemed so big to him then. Like huge fluffy curls reaching up all the way into the sky. He feels the ocean breeze on his skin, smells the salt, hears the seagulls. His mom is there, twirling in the sand like some Hippy ballerina. She’s smiling and she’s so beautiful. Her laughter sounds through the air like a long forgotten lullaby. And Billy, he was so young then, so innocent and — happy. The world had not been cruel on him then, or at least he had someone to shelter him from most of it. Back then, she still loved him. Someone still loved him. 

Maybe the beach was just a beach and the ocean just the ocean but with someone there who loved him, it all felt magical. 

She doesn’t love him anymore and all the magic is gone and he’s cold and bitter and perpetually pissed off.

Happy memories are one hell of a drug and nostalgia is a goddamn liar. When he thinks about that memory now, focuses really really strongly and doesn’t allow the filter of nostalgia to cloud his judgement, he can paint another picture of that day. They’d went to the beach because Neil had been drinking more than usual. His mom had a black eye. The smile didn’t even each her eyes.

The memory was happy to him now because he decided to remember it that way. Though reality was quite another story.

He turns to look at (Y/N), only to find her drawing a picture herself. They weren’t supposed to actually take part in this class, just supervise and setup and clean afterwards. She’d told him that beforehand.

“ What are you drawing there ? “ he asks, peaking onto the piece of paper before her. There’s a big blob of blue and what he can only guess is a swingset.

“ A happy memory “ 

“ Oh yeah, wanna elaborate ? “ 

“ Again, it’s none of your business but sure. It’s uh — it’s Lake Michigan. My mom used to take me there every year for my birthday until I was 12. I loved it there, I love the beach and I’ve always dreamed of the ocean. We couldn’t really afford a trip to the coast so this was the next best thing. There was a swingset there and I could just spend hours swinging and looking at the lake. It was magical. “ 

He thinks it’s kind of ironic that both their happy memories come back to the beach, albeit two vastly different beaches in two very different memories.

“ You’ve never been to the coast ? The ocean ? “ 

“ Nope. But It’s what I wanna do for my 18th birthday. I wanna swim in the pacific. I wanna feel the sun on my skin and taste the salt in the air. “ 

“ Once I’m done with school I’m outta here and back on my way to California. There’s room in my Camaro if you want to carpool. “ 

“ Spending several days in a car with you ? Why would I do that ? You’re aggravating ! “ 

She smiles though. When she says it she smiles. He’s heard those words from Neil before. Aggravating. They stung then, they don’t sting now. There’s no malice in them this time. She says them almost like a compliment. What the fuck is going on here ? 

“ I’ve been told. You’re not a very good artist. “ 

“ And you’re not a very good flirt and yet all girls seem to swoon at the mere thought of you. “ 

“ Do they now ? “ he asks, signature Billy Hargrove smirk playing on his lips. “ How would you know that ? “ 

“ I have friends at Hawkins High. “ 

“ And you talked to them about me, now isn’t that adorable. “ 

“ Don’t flatter yourself, man. “ 

“ You think about me, that’s so cute. Honestly I can’t blame you. “ 

“ Oh my god your ego is the size of a small country. Unbelievable. “ 

“ Don’t get shy now (Y/N). “ 

“ Could you please stop. “ she says but she’s laughing. Her laugh is warm and comfortable and honest. It’s a laugh that reminds him of days when he wasn’t bitter or sad or angry. 

 “ Never, I’m never letting that go. “ 

“ That’s what I’m afraid of. “ 

And when she goes back to drawing on her memory, Billy thinks that maybe there are little happy moments here in Indiana. They don’t make great memories to think back to and they’ll probably dull and vanish someday in the future. They’re not monumental or important. But they are there. In the teasing and the laughter. Even if it’s just a temporary feeling. It’s there. It’s real. It’s his. 

- XXX -

The following week is exhausting for Billy. He’s constantly on the go, driving to school then work then HHTCY. He can’t wait for the pool season to be over so he can scrap that off of his schedule and find a job that doesn’t require him to just sit around in the sun all day. It used to be fun at first but at this point it’s just a drag.

It’s friday evening as Billy sits on the cushioned chair in what is technically not (Y/N)’s office watching her do the last of the paperwork for that day. They both have the next saturday off and even though Billy is still expected to see Dr. K. he’s so glad to not have to work or go to school for at least one day. 

“ You got any plans tonight? “ he asks (Y/N), who only glances up at him for a moment then focuses back on the paperwork.

“ Nah, why ? “ 

“ Just thinking. There’s a party at a classmates house. Her parents are loaded, huge mansion. Free drinks. You should come. “ 

“ Are you asking me to come to a party with you ? “ 

“ That’s exactly what I just did. “ 

Before she can answer a knock sounds at the door and Alex, one of the girls who stays at HHTCY permanently steps into the room.

“ Hi (Y/N) I just uh — oh hi Billy “ she says as she spots him sitting in the corner and blushes.

“ Hi ? “ he’s never spoken a single word to this girl. She’s about 13 or 14, around Max’s age. There’s a mop of bleach blonde hair on her head and she’s wearing entirely too many bangles on her wrists. 

“ You wanted something ? “ (Y/N) chimes up and Billy can see the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. What is this all about ? Girls really are a different species all together.

“ Oh yeah. I’m staying at my mom’s in Hawkins for the night. Lydia has sign off on it already it’s all fine, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving right now. I’ll be back by noon tomorrow. “ 

“ Okay cool. I hope you have a good day at your mom’s “ 

“ Yeah me too. Thanks. Bye. Oh and uh — bye Billy. “ 

“ Bye ? “ 

When she leaves and closes the door, (Y/N) descends into a fit of giggles. 

“ What’s so funny ? “ 

“ She has the biggest crush on you and you don’t even notice”.

“ She’s a kid ! “ Billy points out.

“ Yeah well I was a kid when I had a crush on Mark Hamill “ 

“ Mark Hamill ? “ Billy asks incredulously “ Star Wars ? “.

“ Yeah ? What about it ? “ 

“ Oh my god, you’re a nerd. You have a crush on Mark Hamill and you named your cat after him. You’re a nerd, (Y/N). “ 

“ Uh, no I just like good movies and Mark Hamill looked very dreamy. Get off my case. “ 

“ Never “ he laughs and it’s then that he realizes that he’s laughed more in the time he’s started working here than he has in the last few years. It feels — freeing. It feels good.

“ So who was your crush then, huh ? “ 

“ Pff, I’m never gonna tell you that. “ Billy scoffs “ so how about that party ? “ 

[angelcorebabyowo]

Title: Honeydew

Warnings: Brief mention of suicidal thoughts

Summary: Lydia, Johann and edward get ready for a party and it's all OOC because yeah

"I don't even want to go!" Johann complains adjusting his poet's shirt and flopping down into the window bench with a huff as Lydia just as quickly starts to brush through his unkempt hair, he even closed his eyes whenever the strokes got gentler. He typically didn't go to parties unless he was performing and he, sadly, wasn't invited to do that this time. Honestly, the only reason he agreed to go was that it was considered rude to ignore an invitation from the mayor so he felt as if there wasn't really even a choice. Maybe he should just fake sick to get out of it, that wouldn't be all that bad, just a simple little head cold.

He sighs softly and leans back into his sister so that he wasn't jerked around as much, he was a bit tender-headed so it made it easier on both of them now that he wasn't wincing every three seconds. "It'll be perfectly fine babes, don't stress so much. You'll get gray hairs if you do it too much." Lydia warned with a small grin, her unnaturally sharp canine teeth looking unnatural amongst the normal ones. A few years ago she dragged everyone into sharping them but she continues to do it every time they run down even slightly. It would be weird if she didn't make it look so damn good " Although I bet you'd love that, huh?"

"Oh, you better believe it" Johann joked sticking just the tip of his tongue out of his mouth by habit. That wasn't a lie, he always fantasized about the thought of having grayish-silver hair at a young age and everyone in the family knew it and would make fun of him at every chance they could. He knew it wouldn't be a good look or actually enjoy it but it still made him laugh every time so he didn't really think that far ahead on the subject. His dad had gone completely grey by the time he was 30 and Edward, his brother, was starting to already so signs of it at the ripe age of 16 so it was possible that he could develop early on as well. "Could you imagine me being completely grey by my 20th birthday? You'd have to start calling me sir in a sign of respect!"

"You get no respect, none" Lydia laughs and stops brushing Johann's hair for a quick second before starting to do the very loose twist with her fingers. It was one of the easiest hairstyles she knew that could be done in half an hour or less. "Put it in a bun or just leave it down? Either way, it's getting twisted because I've already started."

"Maybe in a bun? " He mumbles leaning more onto the window and looking out at the city the setting sun was hitting just perfect to cast a somewhat orange and pink glow on the tops of certain buildings.  He assumed his apartment complex was one of them do to the height alone. He sometimes wanted to just sit on the ledge and watch the sunset that way, one false mood and he would plummet ten stories down before landing in the pool below. He wondered if he'd still be alive by that point. 

"A buns always a safe option." She whispers interrupting his thoughts and gently putting his hair in a bun before taking a step back to look at her handiwork "Its a little high but I think you should be good. That way it's nearly a safe bet, not one person would recognize you." 

"Do you think Avi would still recognize me though?" Johann questions as he looks into the vanity mirror and puts on a fix inspired mask. He forgot why he picked a fox, maybe do to their cunning abilities or something along those lines. He'd picked it out when he first got the invitation weeks ago so all memories seemed to just fade from him. 

"Avi would recognize you even if you didn't have a face or hair, now stop being a love-stuck puppy and both of you finish getting ready. " Edward interrupts walking into the room. How no one heard him walking down the hall with the obnoxiously loud heels was beyond everyone. He was also wearing his mask already. A cream scaled one with a few black scales mixed into it as it added ' Flavor '

'Snake' was the first thing that came to Johann's mind whenever he first saw it all those weeks ago, and even today his mind couldn't stop from going to that place no matter how many times Edward insisted it was a dragon inspired one. Johann still wondered what kind of snake it would even be, maybe just a simple corn snake. Edward wasn't that mean, after all, he wouldn't pick something venomous after all. 

"I am ready." Johann insists pointing to his outfit, the only thing he had to do was change into some dress pants and he'd be off to go.

"I was talking about both of you. More specifically Miss. "I'll do it later" over there," Edward says, he had a point after all. Lydia wasn't even remotely ready to go at that point. Her hair was pulled into an over-the-top and eye-drawing hairstyle and her nails were done to perfection, but other than that her clothes were just basic pajamas "go get dressed before we leave you at home." 

Lydia smirks before patting Edward on the cheek in a taunting manner. "Talking mad shit for someone who got his license suspended."

"Johann can! Right, you can still drive?" Edward questions flopping down onto Johann's bed with a loud sigh as the bed creaks under the new weight. He winced at the sound but overall didn't say anything about it. 

"I'm 15 years old and haven't even taken the exam yet" 

"Didn't ask how old or if it was legal just asked if you knew how."

"I refuse to let either one of you drive my car," Lydia says before walking out of the room to actually go get ready knowing that the other two would actually leave her behind. 

"Our car!" Edward calls before leaning over and closing the door fully and sighs loudly again before laying up against the headboard already messing up his golden capelet and neon blue shirt. He really couldn't stand not being the center of attention for a single second, he always dressed like that so it wasn't that far of a bet after all. "We have ten minutes before it starts but you know the saying-"

"Arriving fashionably late is better than arriving on time, shows how little you care."  Both of them say at the same time although while Edward sounds cheerful Johann just sounds even more tired then he always does as if he was trying to drag it out for as much as he possibly could. Johann sat at the vanity trying to figure out how he was going to cover up the bags under his eyes that, even with the mask, were extremely prominent. he eventually just settled on leaving them there as it seemed to add character to the entire look. (He was going for a renaissance era poet who just lost his husband due to some mysterious illness. He seemed to actually be hitting all of the points except for the crying but no way was he going to cry in front of people.)

They sat in silence now, it wasn't awkward, in fact, it was more comfortable than anything. Edward was doing something on his phone and Johann was trying not to have a panic attack because he was actually going through with this while struggling to fit pants that were a little too tight on. Alright, so maybe it wasn't all that comfortable but it was close enough to it. 

After about 20 minutes Lydia rushed in with a smile wearing bother her outfit and mask on. It was a multi-colored short yet puffy dress that fell off the shoulders and a mask that looked suspiciously like a peacock with the number of feathers that seemed to be hastily glued on. "All they had at the store was the plain ones so I had to glue the feathers and sequins on myself so now it looks as if a 3-year-old designed it!" she complained before going over to Edward and promptly laying down on top of him with an over the top sigh. "Woe is me."

"Well whose fault is that L? We offered you to come with us weeks ago but Noooo, you needed to wait till the last second like some sort of troublemaker," Edward says pushing her off and then promptly standing up and rubbing his eyes slightly and throws the keys he had been hiding in his pockets to Lydia with a pout. 

"Off we go come along little children!" Lydia says before walking out the door again, the sound of her boots echoing through the mostly empty hall. The only thing in them was a few paintings of fruit painted in over the top and crazy colors and a single statue at the end of the hall that they won at an auction a few years ago for like a thousand dollars,

It wasn't worth it.

"We're the same age!" Johann argues running after her trying to put on some of his slip-on shoes as he walked. It didn't fit the look but no way was he also going to wear heels, that was pushing it too far for him at best. 

"Stairs or Elevator?" Edward askes whenever all three make it out of their apartment building and into the main hallway "I'm taking the stair because no way am I getting Vored by an elevator"

"Stop being so mean to me!"Edward whines but gets in the elevator anyway with a pout and it started to go down, Lydia was babbling about how much fun tonight would be and her brothers both groaned in unison. 

"That's baby talk. Grown-men take getting eaten like a champ." Lydia says with a small laugh before hitting the button to take them to the main lobby "Johann baby, what are you taking?"

"I'm already in pain so I'll just take the elevator, fuck walking down 10 flights of stairs. "Johann says pushing his way into the elevator and gently holds on to the railing. "Ed gets in here, I refuse to sit next to you if you walk down down disgusting!"

If this was going to happen all night then what a fun one it would be. 

[insipid-drivel]

I’ve decided it’s time to break my silence.

My father was psychologically and emotionally abusive for as long as I can remember. 

His moods were impossible to predict. He would fly from being perfectly amiable and funny to suddenly becoming a snarling bear of a man that would threaten my life for thinking I had spoken out of turn.

After my parents divorced, I was given the choice to decide who to live with as part of the custody agreement. I was only 9, had lots of friends, and loved my teachers. My house was a down-home little cabin set so far back in the woods that you couldn’t see it from the road. I lived in a rural area of Washington State full of verdant forests and beautiful paddocks full of horses and cows.

I liked my home. I didn’t want to leave it, and being a naive 9-year-old little girl, I thought that was enough justification to decide to stay living with my dad in our house in the woods.

It wasn’t long after the divorce that my father’s mercurial moods went from startling and confusing to terrifying. The deep-seated anger he had tried to hide from his family no longer had my mother as an excuse for him to keep it bottled up. And, as is the case with abusers in heterosexual relationships, when my mother left, I was the next viable female for him to unleash his rage on.

He never hit me, but he didn’t need to. He arranged for me to suffer through outside means in the name of plausible deniability. I lived in perpetual fear of him as soon as my mom had gone to live in an apartment in town. I never knew who was coming home at the end of the day. I never knew how bad each day was going to be; the things he’d find wrong the punish me for. Even if there was no tangible reason for his rage to manifest, he would manufacture one. In time, I ultimately took to hiding in the woods to avoid him until the sun went down. I was more afraid of him than I was of bears or mountain lions. 

In the mornings, I usually had to wake up between 4 and 5 AM. My brother and I would then be forced to eat adult-sized bowls of malt-o-meal with little to no flavoring, and drink an entire adult-sized glass of plain, unsweetened cranberry juice. If we refused or tried to ask for something else, we would be punished, even though we had breakfast cereal in the cupboards. 

I would then be sent to school not with the lovingly-packed lunches my mom would send me with. Instead, he would give me a SlimFast bar, which was nothing more than a nutrition bar for adults trying to diet. If I was still hungry, I would have to beg my friends for their leftovers at lunch, and if I told my dad about how Renee or Rachel split their pizza with me, I would get the riot act screamed at me for being ungrateful and unappreciative of the food he’d given me.

Then, when I started puberty between ages 10 and 11, he decided that the slight pudginess natural to a tween child was unsightly on me, and began forcing me to run for at least 30 minutes a night on his treadmill because I was “Getting fat from playing too many video games.” 

I hadn’t even started wearing a training bra yet.

He had his twisted ways of buying himself permission to abuse me by presenting me with gifts. He bought an above-ground pool one year, but the day he decided he needed me to help him assemble it, I was sick with the flu and a high fever. It was summer and hot outside, but he forced me to stay out there for hours despite how the world was spinning around my head as the heat and fever forced me to lean on the pool’s siding so I wouldn’t collapse.

He installed a zip-line one year for my brother and I to play on, and again forced me to help him install it despite how, at the time, we had a problem with a huge infestation of red-headed ants that were extremely aggressive and bit anything that moved. I could barely clutch the handles of the zipline when it was installed because of the ant bites on my fingers from crawling into a tree riddled with those ants. I complained of being bitten, but he warned me to stay put, because he was trying to get the line level and if I were to move, it would throw off his measurements. I was more afraid of his anger at me botching his work than I was of having dozens of ants latching their sharp little mandibles into my bare skin.

His behavior only escalated as I got older. By the time I had just entered high school, he began warning me that if I were to try to date any boys, he would kill them. It wasn’t long after that that his death threats became directed at me. (Although the joke is ultimately on him; I turned out to be an asexual lesbian)

When I had finally had enough of his treatment of me, he still refused to quit. I told my mom that I was afraid of him and afraid for my life and needed to come live with her, and so she came and got me as soon as she was able. I still don’t understand why Child Protective Services were never called in, but they weren’t.

I was only allowed to pack my clothes and school supplies. He refused to allow me to take my consoles, games, or even my precious collection of delicate crystal figurines I’d been amassing since I was a toddler. If I wanted to see them again, I had to keep coming back.

I never saw most of my most beloved belongings again. What he didn’t pack away to hide from me, he lost or destroyed. 

This is a bare-bones summary of the things he did to me and put me through throughout my young life living under the same roof with him. Nevermind the fact that he barely made the effort to take care of my little brother, who was hardly older than a toddler, but refused to live anywhere without me (He still sometimes slips up and calls me “Mom”). It became my job to make sure he was taken care of. It was my job to see him bathed. It was my job to see him fed. By the time I’d squirreled away a lunch for him for school in the morning, I didn’t have time to sneak extra food of my own, and so was continued to subsist off of a single diet bar and whatever I could beg off my classmates.

In the end, no one ever came to help me. I was forced to help myself by ultimately leaving, and I was too afraid of him to tell my mom the truth about the extent of what he would do to me until I was in my 20′s. I should’ve been put into therapy and gotten help after surviving what he did, but one of his final blows to me was that he threatened to retain custody of me and keep me from moving away unless I was cleared by a psychologist first. By then, I had savvied up enough to his abuse that, when I did get shoved into a juvenile psychologist’s office, I lied through my teeth about my mental health so the woman would tell my father that I was fine enough. His reasoning was that he suspected my mother was brainwashing me against him. I don’t believe he ever realized that he didn’t need any help in fostering both my fear and hatred. It took me until I was in my mid-20′s before I finally felt brave enough to seek out a psychiatrist and start therapy for my own sake, and not because I was being blackmailed.

I’ve gotten tired of my child-self being forced to carry the weight of a grown man’s secrets. Tonight, I decided enough was enough. I’ve tried to talk to him about the way he treated me before, but he stridently refuses to believe any of what I told him he did, and insists that either my mother made up stories and tricked me into believing them, or that I simply invented them myself.

So I wrote an email to my aunt; his older sister, and I’m going to tell her everything.

I won’t allow the truth of the man he was to only be known at his eulogy. He took away my childhood, my self-respect, my self-worth, and the person I should’ve become. Now, I plan to destroy the image of himself he cherishes so well before his family. He won’t have my silence to hide behind anymore.

[turtle-steverogers]

Sand Dollars- a Ralbert War Story

heheh hi guys im in college now and im posting a thing hello

also i know I KNOW that fugitives and titanium need some love

they will GET that love, i promise

ok ok now for the lowdown on this story-

warnings: none for this chap, but OH BOOY will there be some warnings in the future.  this is not a happy story

ship: ralbert, some kinda spalbert (but not romantic. its like,,,,platonic ish)

word count: 3228

editing: no, so plz excuse any shit

-

CHAP 1

June, 2006

Albert tugged at the collar of his uniform, inwardly cursing the stifling heat of the shaky boeing aircraft he’d been trapped on for the past fifteen hours.  A thin sheen of sweat covered his entire being and he pushed a hand through his hair, wrinkling his nose a little at the short length of his regulation cut.  He usually liked to keep his hair on the longer side when off-duty, framing his face and curling at the nape of his neck.  And even though he supposed he should be used to the short, crew cut by now, he didn’t have to like it.  Besides, the longer hair suited his face better.  Or so that’s what he was always told.

The announcement of their descent echoed through the plane and Albert sighed, vaguely wishing he��d pissed one more time before the fasten seatbelt sign flashed on again.  The eclectic mix of uniform service members that surrounded him began shifting around, readjusting their seats back to their original positions and stowing their tray tables. 

Albert rolled his eyes minutely, realizing that he should probably do the same before some asshole called him out for it.  Everything always needed to be perfect around these people.  Dress right dress and all that crap.

But as much as all this shit gave him a headache, there was no place he’d rather be.   

His circumstances growing up had been less than ideal.  A dead mother at nine and an absent father at eleven had gotten him dumped into the foster care system with his two brothers (who he eventually got separated from and hadn’t heard from since.  Which he definitely wasn’t still fucking devastated about.  No, he was good at moving on and dealing with his shit.  Yeah, very good).  No less than fourteen homes later, he turned 18 and finally, finally, he was done being some fucking ward of the state.  

But fourteen homes meant just as many, if not more, schools.  And when you’re being shoved from household to household with nothing but a couple bags filled with clothes and other absolute essentials, you don’t really have time to do well in school or apply to colleges.  

The National Guard had sounded like a blessing at the time.  An absolute saving grace with health and financial benefits to last him a literal lifetime.  He always had been good at listening to directions and taking orders, so he figured he’d be a perfect fit.  And he had.  

Those first few years between enlisting and basic training had been some of the best of Albert’s life.  He’d made bonds to last him a lifetime, felt the thrill of having something that was his and he was good at.  He had found purpose where he previously had none.

Then three planes had gone and crashed into the Twin Towers and Pentagon and everything went to shit.

Albert and one of his buddies from Basic, Sean (who went by Spot, but nobody knew why.  Albert had asked once and Spot had just smiled and kicked him in the shin) were living in New York at the time, having moved into a little apartment on the Upper East Side.  The morning of September 11 had yielded one of the clearest, bluest skies Albert had seen in his entire life. 

He remembered waking up to a call from his squad leader, barely able to comprehend the situation through his killer fucking hangover.  He and Spot really hadn’t planned on getting hammered on a Monday night, but sometimes life in your early 20s just happened like that.

The next four days had been a blur of smoke, sirens, debri, and dust.  So much dust.  It had taken weeks for Albert to feel like the damn stuff was finally out of his lungs and if he still thought about it too hard, a phantom tickle would creep up in his chest.

He tried not to think about that week too much.  Spot and him had returned home around the same time, both in varying states of exhaustion and dissociation.  They didn’t discuss what they had individually been through, but an unspoken understanding of the nightmare they’d both witnessed had led them into the same bed that night, the need to forget shrouding everything else.

Albert and Spot’s relationship wasn’t anything that could be truly named.  They weren’t best friends.  They weren’t boyfriends.  They weren’t fuckbuddies.  But they understood each other better than anyone Albert had ever known in his 27 years on this god forsaken earth.  And in that understanding, the knowledge that sometimes you just need to feel good for a night went without having to be spoken.  Feeling good didn’t just mean sex, though.  They cuddled a fair amount too, which was strange considering how touch averse Spot was with other people.  During their first deployment, though, several long days had led to quiet nights spent in each others arms, where they allowed themselves to forget the horrors they were subject to witness and just be. 

They were basically inseparable.  So when the heavens happened upon them and they were to be deployed into the same battalion again, despite Albert climbing through the ranks and surpassing Spot by a fair deal, he had silently thanked a god he hadn’t prayed to since eight years old.

Leaving home was easy, mostly because Albert didn’t have anyone to leave behind.  Spot was already overseas, having left a couple weeks earlier while Albert finished up some things down at the Pentagon.  While being deployed sucked, Albert at least had Spot to look forward to.

The plane jolted, tilting a little as it made it made its final descent into the Tal Afar Airport.  Albert leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes and white knuckling the armrests.  He was a fine flyer once the plane was up in the air, but taking off and landing fucked him upside down and sideways. 

He was just beginning to count his breaths, clamping down the rolling waves of motion sickness, when a low voice spoke next to him.

“Are you alright, sir?” Albert cracked open an eye, glancing sideways at the person next to him, “Not a fan of flying?” 

The guy looked...rugged.  There was no other word for it.  His black hair was cut close to his head, well within regulation and looking a little patchy at the sides.  His wide set eyes were sharp and calculating, glinting with something like mischief that would unsettle Albert if he hadn’t seen that look a million times over in the mirror.  He looked younger than Albert by a good few years and the lack of shadows in his gaze and on his face cast a look of innocence over him.  Albert remembered those days- when naivety led him to a false sense of security.  He had been untouchable; indestructible.  

“Only take off and landing,” Albert said, clearing his throat and putting on what had to look like a strained smile.  He pried his right hand off the armrest and held it out for the guy to shake, “First Sergeant Albert Dasilva.  Good to meet ya.”

The guy had a firm handshake and he didn’t seem to mind that Albert’s palm was a little sweaty from nerves, “Private Elmer Kasprzak.”

Albert smiled, “First time in the Sandbox?”

Elmer smiled, looking a little self deprecating, “That obvious, sir?”

Albert shook his head, aiming for comforting, but still sounding vaguely choked, “I just know the look.  Way too excited.”

“Oh,” Elmer furrowed his brow, looking like he was trying to decide whether to be offended or not, “I’m just happy to finally be on the frontline, sir.”

“I commend you,” Albert said, wistfully, “It’s a brave thing to be doing with such a strong attitude.”

Elmer blushed, “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to tack ‘sir’ onto every sentence,” Albert assured him, “Some guys are really strict about that, so keep in the habit, but I’m not too picky.”

“Oh, okay s- uh, okay,” Elmer flushed deeper and Albert chuckled a little bit patting his knee.

The plane touched down with a jerk and Albert closed his eyes again briefly while it slowed.  Eventually, it came to a stop and the fasten seatbelt sign flashed off.  Albert reopened his eyes to see Elmer staring out the window, awe and apprehension noticeable through the look in his eyes and the crease between his brows.

“C’mon, Private,” Albert said, unbuckling and clapping the younger man’s shoulder, “we got places to be.”

XXX

Getting assigned last minute to a completely new battalion and then being shipped overseas two weeks later was not how Race suspected he’d be spending his first year out of West Point.  He didn’t mind really.  He hadn’t really had any true connections to his old squad and after his little incident with Oscar Delancey, a new start was appreciated.

That didn’t make the whiplash of deployment any less bittersweet.  

His nerves hadn’t stopped twisting since General Kelly had informed him of his new assignment, going back and forth between excitement and paralyzing anxiety until his gut was furling with both simultaneously.  But now that he was here, things were starting to settle within him.  This was his life now and it was going to be his life for the next twelve months.  Better get used to it.

He put the last of his shirts in one of his dresser drawers, casting a cursory glance around his side of the room, before eyeing his cheap, Walmart alarm clock.  09:45.  The next wave of soldiers should be arriving soon and with them, his roommate.

A wave of anticipation rolled through Race’s stomach and he grimaced.  He had yet to make any meaningful connections with his soldiers so far, many of them wary of having a new CO.  But he was a people person and this alienation was killing him, even though he understood their hesitation.  Part of him hoped that whoever his roommate ended up being wouldn’t hold the same vigilance towards him.  Maybe he could even make a friend.  Someone he could theoretically get a drink with.  Completely hypothetically, of course.  Drinking wasn’t allowed on base.

Sighing, Race grabbed his patrol cap, cramming it onto his head and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his desk.  He bounded down the stairs to his trailer and made his way over to the coffee line, nodding his greeting at a small clique of soldiers as he passed.  He only got a couple nods in return, and every single one of them wore matching, judgemental looks.  Race tried not to take it to heart.

The line for coffee took forever and Race hummed a little to himself, toying with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket while he waited for the cue to move at a snail’s pace.  Once he held his little styrofoam cup in hand, he ventured off to the smoking pit, draining his coffee along the way.  

Soldiers were beginning to arrive and Race lit up a cigarette, watching with casual curiosity as groups flooded into camp.  He eyed them, vaguely wondering who each of them was.  Who he would get along with.  Who he would despise.  Who would despise him.

He quickly got overwhelmed again and stomped out his finished stub, lighting up another to kill a few more minutes.

An indiscernible amount of time passed and Race kicked his last cigarette to the dust, pulling back the sleeve of his ACU jacket and checking the time.  11:15.  Damn, that coffee line really had taken forever.

Deeming his little break long enough, Race wandered back towards his trailer, heart rate kicking up a bit when he noticed that the door was propped open.

Steeling himself, Race climbed the stairs, knocking once on the door jamb, before ducking inside.

The person inside turned his head, peering up from where he was folding a few grey, regulation workout pants on his recently made cot.

He was wearing his ACU pants and boots, but his jacket had been discarded and with a quick glance around, Race found it draped over the back of his desk chair.  The guy was attractive- a sharp jawline accentuated by his pale skin and dark red hair, which was trimmed attractively, fading up the sides.  It was as if the guy knew from experience how to make the most of the look without pushing regulation.  His arms and chest were muscular, highlighted by the stretch of his tan, liner t-shirt.  

A charming smile stretched across the guys face as he straightened up, crossing the small expanse of their room and holding out a hand, which Race took firmly.

“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva,” He said, his voice smooth and a little gravelly, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Race smiled back, “Lieutenant Antonio Higgins,” he said, hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he felt, “I’m honored to be working with you and your squadron and I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone.”

Albert dropped his hand, turning back to continue unpacking his things.  He only had one large duffle and two small carry on bags and suddenly, Race felt self conscious about his two duffle and impressive assortment of other luggage.  

“Honestly, we’re just lucky that you were available to serve with us, sir,” Dasilva said, straightening his shoes by his closet, dress right dress, “Everyone was really bummed and pretty panicked when Lieutenant Morris fucked up his leg, so it’s great that General Kelly was able to get you on board so quick.”

Race crossed to his side of the room, tossing his cap back onto his cot and slumping into his own desk chair, “I was pretty eager to get overseas, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quick.”

Dasilva hummed, sounding a little surprised, “This is your first deployment?” He asked, looking over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows a little.

“Yeah,” Race said, ducking his head a little as he flushed, “Just got outta West Point last May.”

Dasilva whistled, looking impressed, “You musta done damn well if you’re already a Lieutenant,” he said, smiling a little challengingly, “and add the fact that Kelly sought you out directly,” he shook his head, bemused, “Damn, sir, you’ve got quite the rep.”

Race wrinkled his nose, “My so called ‘rep’ ain’t really getting me anywhere with your men.”

Dasilva shrugged a shoulder, waving his hand dismissively, “Don’t take whatever they’re doing to heart,” he said, “They’re all still upset about Lieutenant Morris.  He was a great Lieutenant and a lot of the guys are still feeling his absence.  They’ll warm up to you, sir.”

Race grunted noncommittally.  He knew that Dasilva was trying to make him feel better with his little pep talk, but the knot in Race’s stomach only grew.  It seemed like he had pretty fucking big shoes to fill.

“Aha!”

Race was pulled out of his spiraling worries by Dasilva’s voice and he looked up to see him holding a toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Finally found them,” Dasilva said, triumphantly.  He waved them a little in Race’s direction, “I’m gonna go freshen up.  That fifteen hour flight always makes me feel grungy as shit.”

Race nodded his acknowledgement, watching as his new bunkmate exited the room and traipsed down the steps, leaving the door open behind him.  He could see him greeting other soldiers with a level of enthusiasm and charm Race could only dream to match.  His jealousy spiked even further when he got equally happy greetings in response.

Blowing out a measured breath, Race flipped open his notebook, toying with the pristine patch on the front as he vaguely studied the Arabic terms he’d been practicing on the plane ride there.

He was pretty good already, if he said so himself, with an impressive language proficiency score of 3+ under his belt.  But solidifying knowledge was always beneficial, no matter one’s skill.

A few minutes later, Dasilva bounded back through the door to their trailer, finally easing the door shut behind him.  He stuck his toothpaste and toothbrush back into his little hygiene kit and tucked the thing neatly into the top drawer of his dresser.  

Race kept his eyes on his notebook, not entirely sure how to progress with their conversation.  He was out of his depth- usually being the loud and confident one, but somehow rendered socially inept in this completely foreign environment.

Dasilva didn’t seem to notice his internal battle, though, and a moment later, he spoke up.

“You fluent yet?”

Race startled a bit, looking up, “Almost, I’m still working on conversational communication, but I’ve got all the basics in the bag.”

Dasilva grinned, seemingly not jarred by the sudden change in language, “That’s good.  Already something you have over Lieutenant Morris.  With him, we almost always needed a terp on site.”

“No need for one of those here,” Race said, switching back to english.

“Obviously, sir,” Dasilva agreed.  There was another lull in conversation, but Dasilva didn’t seem uncomfortable, “Do you like running?”

Race felt his stomach flip excitedly, “Yeah, actually, I love it.  Did track all through middle in high school.  That’s actually where-”  He cut himself off hastily.  Dasilva did not need to know about his little adolescent nickname that he still used unironically.  Not yet anyway.

Dasilva gave him a funny look, but didn’t push, “Great.  I go running every morning with one of my buddies before call.  You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

“That sounds nice,” Race said, “I’d love to.  Who’s your buddy?” He added out of curiosity.

“Sean Conlon,” Dasilva stated and Race hummed, recognizing the name, but not having a face to put it with, “He and I go way back.”

The weight of the words seemed to hold something heavy, but Race returned Dasilva’s courtesy and didn’t push.

“Sounds like a good guy,” Race said, “What time should I wake up?”

“We usually go around 04:45,” Dasilva said, leaning back into his regulation pillows, “You’ll probably hear my alarm anyway.”

Race nodded, “I’ll set one on my clock, too, just in case.”

“Good plan.”

A knock at their door had both of them exchanging a curious look.  Race stood to get it and found a taller man with straight, cropped brown hair and a rigid nose standing at ease outside the door.  He smiled cordially when Race looked up at him and offered him a hand.

“Lieutenant Higgins?” Race nodded and the man shook his hand firmly, “Excellent.  Captain David Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, sir.”

“General Kelly would like to see you over in his office,” Jacobs continued, sounding a little warmer.  His eyes flicked over Race’s shoulder to Dasilva, who hastily stood at attention.

“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva, sir,” Dasilva said, his voice hardening as he saluted.

“At ease, soldier,” Jacobs said, “Pleasure to meet you.”

They all stood in silence for a short pause, before Race awkwardly turned and grabbed his patrol cap.  

“General Kelly requested for me now, sir?” He asked Jacobs.

“Yes,” Jacobs confirmed.

“Alright,” Race placed the cap on his head and looked back to where Dasilva was still standing, “I’ll see you later, Sergeant.”

“See you, sir,” Dasilva smirked, “Good luck.”

Race resisted stating that he’ll need it as the trailer door swung closed behind him.

-

thanks for reading, chiefs

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[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

Broken Promises

All I have to say about this is I’m sorry but it was haunting me. Based on Carrie Underwood’s Just A Dream. I cried writing this

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / reader technically 

Warnings: It’s fucking sad, mentions of death. RIP your emotions

Words: 2428 words of fuckin’ my tears

Tag list: @r-ahh-mi @the-almond-dinger @elliotmercury

lmk if you wanna be put in my tag list. 

Baby, why'd you leave me, why'd you have to go

I was counting on forever, now I'll never know

I can't even breathe

It's like I'm looking from a distance,

Standing in the background

Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now,

This can't be happening to me

This is just a dream

She kept telling herself it wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This situation she had somehow found herself to be in. There was no way it could be real. He had promised. He never broke his promises, it was the one thing she could count on him to do. It simultaneously felt like so long ago and just yesterday when it had all begun to spiral.

They had fought. He had come home and she knew right away that something was wrong. She could see it in the way he avoided her eyes, the way he fiddled with the bottom of his shirt. He looked almost like a child, shoulders hunched in and head down, looking innocent and guilty all at once. In some ways he was just a child, barely turned 19. She asked him what was wrong and he had spit out his answer, plain and simple.

“I enlisted.”

A deathly kind of silence filled the room. The kind of silence that makes you want to scream just to fill the void, just so there’s something other than the ringing in your own ears to listen to. She stared at him, almost wondering if she heard him right. She wished he had said anything else, wish he had come with any other kind of bad news. But she had heard him correctly. And they fought. She asked him why, why would he want to leave her? Leave his family? Leave safety? He had told her he couldn’t let himself sit by while men were needed over there. And she knew it to be true, he was never one to just sit back and watch while everyone else handled the dirty work. That was why she fell in love with him, after all. None the less she had argued back, saying he could help from home. There were things he could do in America, why couldn’t he just do those?  

Her tears finally began to fall, fear gripping the pit of her stomach like death. He had pulled her into his arms. Told her it would all be okay, that he’d be home by Christmas.

“You have to promise me,” she had whispered, “promise me you’ll come back, Merriell.”

And Merriell had looked at her, had taken her chin in between his two fingers and looked directly into her eyes. She remembered staring into the endless pools of greens, blues and greys and seeing the honesty that laid in them.

“I promise.”

He proposed a day later. They had spent the night together, making love again and again and again until all they could do was hold each other. He had reached over to the bedside table, pulling out a small blue velvet box. He brushed the hair from her face, letting his finger drag down the soft skin of her cheek, willing himself to remember this moment.

“I was gonna do this anyway,” he had begun, “but seein’ as we don’t have that much time left togetha’...” he had opened the box, watching her reaction closely, “Marry me on Saturday?”

She had said yes. Over and over and over, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks that he kissed away as he slipped the ring over her finger. And sure enough, that Saturday they had gathered their closest family and friends, hired a priest and gotten married. Their honeymoon had been spent at a run-down cabin on a beach. Neither of them cared where they spent time together, but they knew that they wanted to spend every waking moment they had left with each other.

All too soon, their time was up. All too soon, she was walking him to the train station. And All too soon the train pulled up. She had pulled him into one last embrace, holding on tightly as if that could stop him from leaving. She memorized the feeling of his body against hers, the way his hands grasped at her back, the way his head fit into the crook of her shoulder. She pulled him down into one last kiss and memorized that too. She needed to memorize everything about him, every small detail to get her through the next hard months ahead of her.

The conductor called for any last passengers and panic had surged back up from the dark pit in her stomach.

“Don’t go.” she had cried, still clinging to his hand, his arm as he boarded the train.

“Baby, I gotta.” He had said, his voice hoarse with unshed tears, hearing the distress in her voice made him not want to go, “I’m comin’ back.” he promised over the loud hiss of the train’s breaks unlocking.

In the end, it was the train that ripped them apart. She had called after him, telling him she loved him and that she’d be waiting for both his letters and for him to come home. He had called back, promising again and again that he’d be home and that he loved her. She stared after the train, tears running down her face. She stared after the train even after it disappeared. And when she had finally returned home, she found herself surrounded by deathly silence once more.

His letters came often, even if he hadn’t received a reply to the last one. He wrote to her every chance he got. She read each letter two, sometimes three or four times over. She read them when she missed him, when she couldn’t sleep and when she felt alone. When she wasn’t writing to him she was keeping herself as busy as possible. Tending the garden, cleaning the house, waitressing at the cafe down the street. Her body protested, just wanting to relax for once. Yet every time she tried to sit on the couch with a book, her mind wandered to him, fighting for his life, for America, for her. Her mind supplied her with vivid images from her nightmares and from what little information he had told her about his locations.

He wasn’t home for Christmas. He had written to her on Christmas day, apologizing because he had to break his promise and stay longer. He didn’t say much else, he never told her how bad it was, never told her of any close encounters with death he may have had. That letter was short and sweet. He had promised that they’d have their own Christmas when he got home, with presents egg nog and that sexy little number she had hung up in their closet back home that he loved so much. He had told her he loved her and had sent love to the family as well.

But the letters had stopped after that.

She tried not to think about what it might have meant. She told herself he was just busy, he was fighting a war, after all. She told herself they got lost in the mail or that they were on their way. She told herself any excuse she could even as the dark pit in her stomach grew with each passing day. She could see the pity in people’s eyes already; They had asked how he was doing, she had said she hadn’t received any letters lately and the pity was present. It was in everyone's mind. But she wouldn’t let herself think it. It hurt too much to even think.

But then one morning, she had opened the screen door to a military man in his dress blues. They had addressed her and said the speech she had never dreamt, even in her worst nightmare that she’d ever have to hear.

“The commandant of the Marine Corps has entrusted me to express his deep regret...”

This couldn’t be happening.

“Merriell Shelton was killed in action...”

He promised. He always kept his promises.

“The Commandant extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your loss.”

She had snatched the letter from the man, quickly closing the door in his face and she broke. She dropped to her knees, her knees giving out as the pain she felt in her chest take over all her senses. She clutched the letter tightly. She felt herself screaming, could tell it was blood-curdling but could not hear it. The only thing she heard was a ringing in her ears and her heartstrings snapping. She screamed and screamed and screamed, arms wrapped around herself, trying desperately to replicate the feeling of his arms around her before he had left.

She wished desperately to turn back time, to rip him off the train and hold him down until it was too late for him to go. She pleaded to the lord, to any lord, to give him back to her, to give them another chance. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It had to be all some kind of sick, twisted dream. Merriell couldn’t be dead. He was coming home. He promised. He promised, he promised, he promised.

Her neighbours had called her mother, concerned over the deathly screams they were hearing and that’s how her mother found her. In hysterics on the floor of her house, her voice hoarse from screaming, her face stained with smeared makeup, hair matted from gripping and pulling on it. Her mother had held her, rocking her back and forth.

“It’s not true,” she had sobbed, “He said he’d come home. He promised.”

Her mother just shook her head, her heart breaking for her daughters' sorrow, “he’s not coming home.”

It was hours before she had calmed down enough to realize there were two letters. Her heart dropped again, seeing as one was from him. She wanted to read it, but it was the last letter she was ever going to read from him. She wanted to wait.

She waited until after his funeral. His funeral. Her husbands funeral. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t even turned 20 yet, so much life ahead of him, stolen. A forever with her, stolen. Over what? A disagreement between countries that could have been handled with common-sense and level-headedness. She stroked his casket, sobs ripping from her chest with the knowledge that he was in there. The man that only months ago was kissing her, holding her, promising to be home before Christmas. The knowledge that he was now in there, embalmed, cold and lifeless, ripped the wounds on her heart fresh open.

She whispered into the wood her love for him. Pleading for him to come back, pleading for herself to wake up, for this nightmare to be over.

But it didn’t end.

When she got home she had sat at the kitchen table, staring at the letter addressed to her in a deadman's writing. She stared at it until her eyes dried up, stared at it until she couldn’t bear it anymore. She had to read it, what were his last words to her.

Hi baby,

If you’re reading this...

I’m sorry. Fuck, this is harder than I thought it’d be to write.

I never thought I’d have to write you a letter like this but things are getting harder and if things end badly I don’t want to leave you with nothing. I always wanted my letters to you to give you hope. I never wanted you to worry about me. I wanted you to believe that I could keep my promises. I’ve always kept my promises.

But if you’re reading this, it means I didn’t keep the promise that means the most.

If you’re reading this, it means I’m not coming home.

And if I’m not coming home, if I never get to see you again, there are a few things I want you to know.

One, I want you to know that I have never loved anyone, or anything, more than I love you. You are the stars I stare up at in the night when I’m on watch or when I can’t sleep. You are the sun that warms my wet clothes, skin and bones. You are everything that’s kept me going over here. You are my everything. I love you so much.

Two, I want you to know that you were the last thing I thought of. I know as I write this it hasn’t happened but I know you will be the last thing on my mind. You’re always on my mind. It’s always you, baby. I thought of your hugs, your kissed, of your beautiful face. I thought of you and it made everything a little less scary.

Three, I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m putting you through all this. I’m sorry I enlisted and left you. I’m sorry I broke the promise. I’m sorry that I’m not coming home. I want to come home. I want to see your face and hold you close and kiss you and spend the rest of my life with you.

Four, I want you to know that if there is a heaven, my heaven is you. And if there is a heaven, you bet your ass I’ll be waiting at those golden gates or whatever the fuck they got going on up there every day for you.

That being said, baby please don’t feel like you can’t move on. I love you more than anything and the thought of you with someone else makes me sick. But if I can’t be there for you... I want you to be happy. If you find someone else that does that for you, I want you to move on. Don’t spend the rest of your life mourning me. I’ll be fine. I just want you to be happy. If you can be happy, I’ll rest easier.

It’s hard to end this, knowing it’ll be my last words to you. I don’t want to say goodbye. Because that means never seeing you again. And baby girl, I plan on seeing you again. Whether it be up at those heavenly gates, in another life or wherever. I’ll find you.

I’m always going to be with you, baby. If not physically, I’m with you in your heart. Always.

I’m sorry I broke my promise. I really am baby, I thought I’d be coming home for sure. I’m so sorry.

I love you. I’ll always love you. I always have. I love you.

Merriell Shelton.  

a/n:

I AM SORRY OKAY

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (24/30)

Summary:Emma Swan loses a drunken bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush - if you can call him that - to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala for Boston’s Children Shelter. Killian Jones is that celebrity. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost all because of the ridiculousness of the situation. 

What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.What she truly doesn’t expect is to actually like the man.

Rating: Mature

A/N: You guys are continuously awesome, and I appreciate you! 

As an FYI, I have this story completely written now, down to the last word, so if anyone was worrying about that, you don’t have to! But mostly I wanted to let you guys know that I’m going to be out of town for a week, so there won’t be any updates next week (but maybe an extra one this week)💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr:Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | 

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“Happy birthday,” Killian hums against her neck, kissing the sensitive skin and rubbing his chin into her. She claims that it doesn’t tickle her, but it always does. He hopes it’ll work to wake her up since nothing else will today. “Your alarm has been going off for fifteen minutes.”

“Hmm,” she mumbles, twisting to the side and burying her face in his bare shoulder, ignoring the sound of her alarm like she has been while he’s listened to it wondering just how long she’s going to sleep through it. He swears sometimes it’s like she’s dead to the world. Other times she’s woken up by a whisper of a touch. There’s no in between for her. “That doesn’t sound real.”

“It is, darling,” he promises, nudging her stomach with his knee until she flips back onto her pillow, opening one eye while she stares up at him. He knows that he’s got a smirk on his face, that she probably finds him to be obnoxious, but he’s been awake for longer than her. He’s not nearly as annoyed by life as she is. Then again, the only work he has to do today is finish up packing Emma’s things to take to the new place this weekend. He can fall back asleep as soon as she leaves for work and not have to get dressed until they go out for her birthday tonight.

“Can you go to work for me? I would love you for the rest of my life.”

“While that’s a promising offer, I’m just not sure that it’s worth it.”

“Hey,” she protests, opening up her other eye as her lips part, her teeth showing the slightest bit before she presses them together again.

“Just speaking the truth.” He leans over in the bed and quickly slants his lips over hers, waiting for her to open up to him until he can make it a little deeper, leisurely exploring her mouth and waking her up as he gets lost in the kiss and the way that Emma’s nose is buried in his cheek, her hand softly gripping in his hair. God, he loves when she messes with his hair. “You need to get up and get ready.”

“I can stay in bed for thirty more minutes if I don’t shower.”

“Yeah, but you won’t want to shower after work and before we go to dinner, so you should shower now to get it over with.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but when he kisses the tip of her nose, he can see her smile despite the still dimmed lighting in the room. “I don’t like that you’re reasonable.” “You do. I promise. Now go get ready, Swan.”

She mumbles and groans, but eventually she gets out of bed and turns the damn alarm off before she heads into her bathroom to shower. He’s a bit of an arse, so he doesn’t bother getting out of bed even though he should likely fix her breakfast since it’s her birthday and she hasn’t been too happy about turning twenty-nine. Knowing her, though, she won’t want to eat anything but a yogurt with how late she’s running, so he’ll make her food some other day. It’s the least he can do if he’s going to be up anyways.

He’s only been staying with Emma for a week and a half, and they’re still in her old apartment until the furniture they’ve bought gets moved to their place. It’s got a new mattress and bedframe like they both wanted and a couch, but everything else is still shipping or they haven’t found what they wanted yet. It was a pretty quick turnaround on buying the apartment in Seaport, so they weren’t exactly expecting to be able move in so quickly. He was expecting to have at least a few more weeks, but after they closed on the place, he called Robin and Will to help him pack up his clothes and a few personal items from home. It’s a bit of a disconnect walking into a place he’s lived for years and seeing it furnished only to turn a corner and realize that the books on his shelves are missing along with some of the photo frames he had on the side table in his study. He was going to leave them, but he wanted some personal mementos.

His clothes were easy enough to pack, especially since he only packed his winter things for the next few months, but that odd feeling of emptiness washed over him when he noticed that only his shorts and some swim trunks remained. That emptiness went away when he was hanging his things and a few of Emma’s in their closet, one that they get to share, and those awful Christmas sweaters they both own were hanging side by side, green tassel sticking out against all of the black and navy clothes that he owns. He’d never get rid of them, though. They mean too much to the both of them, so they’ll stay hanging in the closet.

God, it’s both weird and wonderful that they’re getting to share everything in a home together.

The wonder is most definitely going to fade once they get into an argument over the dishes or making the bed every day, but he doesn’t care in the slightest.

Maybe he’ll go buy those barstools Emma saw when they went shopping on Sunday. She’d really liked those, but they weren’t sure if the stools were the right size. He checked, and they are. That’d likely be a nice surprise, especially if he gave them to her today.

Barstools for his girlfriend’s birthday present. It’s what every woman wants.

Or a necklace with a pearl pendant hanging at the end of the chain because gifts are difficult and Emma never wants anything. He’d seen her look at the necklace, though, and she’d run her fingers over her collarbone for awhile after she saw it. It’s simple and beautiful, and he thinks Emma will like wearing it most days just so that she has something to fidget with. She’s always doing that with her earrings or bracelet, so a necklace should be nice, right?

A necklace and some barstools. And this hot chocolate basket that he’s been putting together, her swan mug hidden away in it. For someone who claims that it’s her favorite mug, she sure as hell doesn’t notice when it’s missing for weeks on end.

Yeah, those should be fine things to give her before tonight.

He donated some money to her work and to a few of her favorite charities, but he’s not going to tell her about them. He thought about it, but it doesn’t quite seem right. They’re in her honor and will help out a lot of people who need the help, and that’s all that matters to him.

He hears the water shut off in the bathroom, and he takes that as his cue to get finally get out of bed, throwing the covers off of his legs and slowly moving off of the old mattress so he can get some sweatpants out the suitcase he’s living out of, pulling them on and up over his hips so he won’t freeze while moving out to the kitchen. He may not make her breakfast, but he can at least make her some coffee so she won’t be cranky at work.

Coffee would also be really nice for him. Emma’s alarm went off for far too long, and he can feel the slightest pounding against his temple.

“Do you think it would be too obvious if I called in sick to work?” Emma ponders as she walks into the room a few minutes later, a towel still wrapped around her head but her lashes coated in mascara and face powdered so that her freckles have faded. “I mean, they know it’s my birthday, but people get sick on their birthdays. It’s just a day.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, the liquid still a little too hot from his lack of creamer, and shrugs his shoulders while Emma grabs a mug out of the cabinet and starts making her cup.

“You could, but if you don’t go to work, your other option is to stay here with me and pack up your belongings.”

“I mean, packing is very sexy. I could stay and we could forget about packing for you to give me all of your love and attention since it is my birthday after all.”

“For someone who has been dreading this day, which you literally just said is only a day on the calendar, you’re really milking it.”

“I am indeed,” she smiles, holding up the carton of milk she just got out of the fridge. Emma Swan, a woman who doesn’t like to let bad jokes pass by her. “I just don’t want to go to work. I’m working with Kathryn all day and blegh.”

“Did you just say the word blegh instead of making the sound?”

“Yep.”

“Weird.” “Debatable.”

“I’m sorry you have to work with Kathryn, but hopefully she won’t be that bad today. And I feel like you’re going to have a good day today, signing your new contract and all that, you badass of a woman.” He takes a step toward her and leans down to brush a kiss across her temple, knowing the toothpaste on her tongue won’t mix well with the coffee. He loves her and is proud of her for negotiating a raise that she deserves for her time there and for all the good work she’s done this year, but her really is not a fan of toothpaste mixed with coffee. “And when all is said and done today, I promise I’ll give you all of my love and attention.”

“That’s all I ask.”

When Emma leaves for work, he takes a quick shower and gets dressed to go to Gold and Williams to pick up some of the furniture they saw the other day. He’ll pack later. He’d honestly just feel better if he went ahead and got the furniture now, mixing in with the morning crowd on the train as he makes his way to the south end. He’s still got some work to go on navigating Boston, but he’s figuring things out. It’d help if he had a car here, but he doesn’t want to buy another one when he has a perfectly good car back in California. Then again, it’s either leave it there or take a road trip across the country every time he travels.

That would be ridiculous. The miles and time alone.

Maybe he’ll get Emma to take a road trip with him when she has off for Thanksgiving since they’re spending it with his family so that they can spend Christmas with Emma’s. Or maybe he’ll simply become a master of taking the train.

Or he could ship his car across the country. That’s a thing.

It takes a few minutes in the store for him to find the barstools, telling the man who’s helping him, Eric, that he wants four of them before he wanders throughout the rest of the store, looking at the chairs for the living room they’d both liked the other day. It’s odd shopping without Emma, but then again, she did most of their apartment viewing by herself so a chair seems like a much smaller thing. They can always return it if it doesn’t fit, but he likes the blue velvet and gold accented frames that surround them to go with the light gray of their couch. By the time he’s left the store he has put in orders for the barstools, arm chairs, lamps for their bedside tables, and a loveseat to sit at the foot of their bed all to be shipped to their apartment. He knows that Emma liked the loveseat because he distinctly remembers her sitting down on it and tracing her finger over the teal material and talking about how good it would look with the blue and green accents on the pillows on their bed.

He’s never thought this much about interior decorating, but Emma is having such a blast starting with a clean slate that he’s enjoying it. He likes watching everything come together too.

The rest of his morning is spent packing up Emma’s apartment, sectioning off her clothes and tying them up in bags so they’ll be easier to unpack. All of her dishes but a few they’ll need over the next few days go into boxes, wrapped in bubble wrap, and he makes note of the appliances she’s missing. He’ll ship some of his things from home here. He won’t need a fully stocked kitchen some place he’s not living full time, and there’s no need to buy more plates when he and Emma eat out off of paper plates most of the time anyways.

Maybe they need a few more plates for when they have guests. He’s thinking about flying out Liam, Elsa, and Aiden for Christmas and having them stay over so that they can meet everyone. Of course, he’ll have to fly in Anna and Kris as well. He could offer to fly in Anna and Elsa’s parents, but they’re apparently visiting after the holiday.

It’s something to think about, though.

When he tackles her shelves, that’s an animal in and off itself. She’s got everything marked for keep or donate since nothing in her apartment can stay here, and honestly, he’s a little confused by some of the markings. There are several rocks that don’t look like anything, but Emma has them marked to keep so he packs them away. He assumes Leo has given them to her, but he’s honestly got no idea.

The music on his phone stops playing as it rings, and he reaches to the side and slides his finger across the screen, tapping the speaker so he doesn’t have to pick it up.

“Hey, Will.”

“Why the bloody hell do you have me watering these plants if you don’t even live here anymore? Can’t I just let them die?”

“Nice to hear from you too,” he scoffs, wrapping up a picture frame. “And yes, you have to water them until I get them moved to Liam’s or Rob’s. Or yours. I think you’re rather fond of the plants, mate.”

“I don’t like your bloody plants.”

“It’s okay to like the plants. They’d make your apartment look less like a bachelor lives there.”

“A bachelor does live there.”

“Seriously, take the plants with you.”

“If I take the plants with me, then you won’t pay me to water them.”

“Technically I also pay you to dust, but you never do that.”

“I’m not your maid. I’m your friend.”

“Who likes the money I pay you out of the goodness of my heart for helping me with my house.”

“You’re the most generous man in all of Hollywood,” Will chuckles as the distinctive sound of the ceiling fan in Killian’s study spins. It’s got this thing where it clicks if it spins too quickly. He needs to fix that. “What are you doing today? You got plans? Rob, Rol, and I are going to watch the Kings play later. You want to join us from afar?”

“What time?”

“Six our time.”

He clicks his tongue as he wraps another frame that’s filled with a picture of Emma holding both Leo and Brody the day after Brody was born. God, that had been such an awful day for him, but Emma looks so besotted with those boys that it doesn’t even matter. It worked out for them anyways. They worked it out.

“I can’t,” he admits, feeling the smallest tinge of guilt, but this is how things are going to be sometimes. Not all of the time, but still. He’ll have to take the three of them to a match sometime soon. Maybe he’ll buy them passes for Christmas. “It’s Emma’s birthday, so we’re going out. I’ll try another time though, okay?”

“Aye, that’s fine. It’s not like it’s going to be a good one anyways. Tell your lady I said happy birthday.”

“I will. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. Are you not working at the bar tonight?”

“No, I’ve got today off. Oi, man, I’ve got to tell you about this guy who came in last night.”

He and Will keep talking until Killian’s finished packing up the bookshelves, everything sorted into different boxes and bags and stacked up next to the door as Will regales him with stories of the bar and Roland’s attempt at ice skating for the first time last week. Robin’s also apparently been dating one of the moms of one of Roland’s classmates. He leaves for a little bit of time and suddenly everyone is getting their lives together. He absolutely cannot wait to annoy Rob about this the next time they talk. The man would rather die than talk about his dating life, so he kind of wonders how exactly Will knew about Robin’s new woman. He never explained. Eventually Will has to go, and Killian’s left spending the rest of the day doing as much packing as he can, only stopping to eat a late lunch and drink another cup of coffee.

“How is it so cold outside?” Emma asks as she pulls off her jacket and takes her beanie off, shaking her hair out and closing the front door behind her. “Seriously, it’s freezing out there. Have you been outside today? Probably not. You’ve probably been packing this entire time. Sorry I couldn’t call at lunch. I missed it to read over my contract one more time. Your girl has officially got herself a pay raise.”

“Congrats, love,” he laughs, taping up a box and then putting his tape down so that he can walk over to the kitchen where Emma’s puttering around in the cabinets. They’re mostly empty now, but she’s probably trying to find a glass. “Do you feel less stressed?”

“Exponentially.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to her cheek before reaching above her and getting a glass out of the cabinet to hand to her. “I actually went and got some furniture for us this morning, some of the stuff we looked at on Sunday, and it’s being delivered to the apartment. And then I was packing up some things we hadn’t gotten yet. I was about to go work in your hallway closet.”

“I can do that,” she blurts, her cheeks flushing, and he quirks his brow as the gears start turning in his mind over why she wouldn’t want him messing with the closet.

“You’re hiding something.”

“I am not.”

“You’re a horrible liar, remember?”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“So what do you have hidden in the closet? I’ve been in there before, so I know that it’s not dead bodies or anything.”

“Gross.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying. I’m also going to go look.”

He sidesteps out of Emma’s way, the curiosity too much, but he also knows that if Emma really doesn’t want him to look, she’ll tell him to stop. And he will. Whatever she’s hiding isn’t bad or untrustworthy. He simply doesn’t know what it is.

“Killian,” she chuckles, grabbing onto the back of his shirt and tugging him back so that he turns around and backs himself up against the wall to look down at Emma. Her eyes have widened, and her lips are somewhere between a smile and a quiver. He simply can’t tell. “Please don’t look in the closet.”

“I won’t if you really don’t want me to. I just wonder how you didn’t think of me looking in there while you were gone today.”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot about your deep, dark secret?”

“It’s not a deep, dark secret. It’s a surprise for you.”

“For little old me on your birthday?”

“Oh my gosh,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes and leaning forward to pat his chest. “You’re so cocky, but yes, for you. It was – I was – do you just want it now?”

He does, but he can be patient.

“You can save it. Today is about you anyways.”

Emma groans, actually groans, and it’s a bit of a mixture between frustration and pleasure. He’s got no clue what’s going on right now. Absolutely none.

“It’s not a big deal,” she starts, stepping to the side and sliding open the closet door, the old folds of it crunching the slightest bit. “Like, it’s really not a big deal. I was going to put them up at the new apartment and let you, you know, just notice when you noticed.” She bends down and picks up a small box, and when she hands it to him, he can see Liam’s address on the return label. What the hell? “Just open it or whatever.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, looking up at her and noticing the way she’s fidgeting, her feet never staying in place. “Swan, unless there’s something super freaky in here that my brother has sent you, and I’m not sure where the limitations lie, I promise that there’s no need to be nervous.”

It takes a bit of work to open the package. Liam really doubles down on masking tape and he’s working with just his nails, but eventually he gets into it, the cardboard folds moving open and revealing a few envelopes that are full of pictures…of him. They’re of him. There’s one of him as a child with his mum, a blue popsicle melted all over him. There’s another of he and Liam at his graduation, another of them when they’d just moved into the apartment in California, and several others that he’s seen before but not in a long time. These are from the books that Liam keeps, that he’s made sure to save even when they were in the system and could barely have belongings. These are his childhood, the fond memories of his childhood, and despite how much he’s always loved them, for a long time it was difficult for him to look at some of them, especially the ones with his mother.

“Did you,” he starts, putting the pictures back in the box, “did you ask Liam for family photos so you could put them up in the apartment to surprise me?”

“Yeah. I thought – I thought it would be a nice thing for you to have some of your home here. And, like, I figured it was a better thing than a picture of Queen Elizabeth or, like, a palm tree that would just die in this climate. I know it’s not a big thing but I – ”

“Emma,” he laughs, dropping the box to the ground and stepping forward to wrap his arm around her waist, holding onto her tightly as he pushes her up to the wall and quickly slants his lips over hers, feeling the softness of her mouth as she gasps into his own. He knows that he’s surprised her, that she didn’t expect such a fierce moment over what she very obviously thinks is a big deal but won’t admit, but the truth of the matter is that it is a big deal. They’re flush against each other and into the wall, and when his tongue moves against hers, she cants her hips up to his as he matches her rocks, the two of them moving together.

He knows that they’re both sentimental, that they both hold onto things from their childhood, that they hold onto the happy moments, but he also knows that they’re often only sentimental about it late at night when maybe exhaustion has gotten to them. Sometimes it’s when they’re walking on the beach by his house, Emma wrapped up in a sweater that reaches her thighs as she tells him about the first time she made a friend who she got to stay around for more than a few months before she was moved to another house in the state. It’s a sometimes thing, not an always, but it means the absolute world to him that Emma would do this.

She hasn’t moved the mountains, but he would never ask or expect her to.

He’d go to the end of the world for her, and he knows that she’d do the same.

Emma’s hands move over his shoulders, and it’s what snaps him into attention before he moves his lips from hers and trails them along her jaw, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in as his heart pounds against his ribcage.

“So you like them?”

He nods into her neck before he pulls back, looking into the gleam of her eyes before he leans forward and kisses her noise, his breath still catching up to him as he rests his forehead against hers. “I love them. Why were you so nervous?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is a bit high, the smallest bit broken, and he groans a bit knowing that it’s all because of him, that their hips are still pushed together with Emma pinned to the wall. “I wanted to do something big for you to make Boston your home a bit more easily, but I couldn’t think of anything. And I don’t know. I figured you wouldn’t pack up all of the pictures you have at home so that you would still have them when you’re there. It was the least I could do, and I wasn’t going to make a big deal about them, but then you were going into the closet and yeah.”

“I did pack some of them,” he chuckles, leaning back and flashing her a grin so that she’ll stop biting her lip. He’s just now noticing that his hand has traveled up her shirt, and he wonders when he started tracing her spine. “Not all of them but a few, but I don’t – I hadn’t gone into those pictures for years. It’s so hard to see Mum’s face sometimes, but this is good. I appreciate it. Really. I don’t need you to do big gestures. I don’t – Emma I’m happy to be here. I can’t say it enough. I’m happy to be here and to be with you.”

“Yeah,” she nods, moving her hands back up his arms to his shoulders before her hands cup his face, soft pads caressing him as he leans his cheek into her so that he can kiss her wrist, “I’m happy too. We should probably stop making out in my hallway and get ready for dinner.” She pats his face as her lips curl into a smile that makes her eyes crinkle. “You need time to fix up that face.”

“My face looks fine.”

“Obviously you already packed up all of the mirrors in this place.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of them to get ready even though he needs to take a shower, and after he gives Emma her gifts, clasping the ends of her necklace together over the back of her neck, they make their way outside so they can drive to dinner. Emma has work in the morning, so neither of them are really planning on drinking too much or staying out late.

“So this place is really called the Barking Crab?” he asks as they walk from the parking deck to the restaurant, moving through the surprisingly crowded streets even with the chill in the air. Emma had put on a short black dress earlier, had checked the weather, and then quickly changed into black jeans and a sweater so that she wouldn’t freeze. As much as he appreciated the dress, he appreciates Emma not dying of hypothermia more.

“Yep. It’s good and fun, right on the water obviously. You’ll like it because as much as I know that you like the occasional stuffy restaurant, how can you pass up eating greasy food out of baskets?”

“You can’t,” he scoffs, reaching down to wrap his hand over her palm while they walk. “And it’s seafood, so how can it get better?”

“If it were a cheeseburger.”

“I’m sure they have those here, but considering you picked the place, Swan, I don’t think you can complain.”

“We already talked about this. It’s my birthday. I can do whatever I want.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“It definitely is.”

“So if you committed murder, you think you could get away with it by saying it happened on your birthday?”

“You took that from zero to one hundred real quick.”

“I was making a point.”

“One I’m choosing to ignore.” Her steps hurry then, heels clicking against the pavement, and he has to quicken his step to keep up. “I see Mary Margaret at a table.”

“She got one outside? It’s freezing.”

“They have heaters.”

“Still.”

“You’ll be fine,” Emma laughs, squeezing his hand tightly before releasing him and running up to meet her friends, wrapping Mary Margaret in a tight embrace, the two of them rocking from side to side.

She’s already moved onto David by the time that he gets there, so he bends down and presses a kiss against Mary Margaret’s cheek, asking her how she is and about the kids before he’s hugging David and doing the same to him. He’s just about to settle down when Ruby and Dorothy show up, so it’s another mess of hugs and too much conversation all happening at once. He’s only met Dorothy in a professional capacity, but he feels as if he knows her a bit from Emma and Ruby talking about her. She’s great, if not a bit shy, but that’s honestly not an option with Emma and her friends.

Okay, so it’s not an option with Ruby, but he doubts Dorothy would be here if she didn’t fancy Ruby.

Eventually the all sit down around the table Mary Margaret got for them, Emma sliding into the chair next to him and opening up the menu to read through all of the cocktails out loud.

“You’d like the Dark and Stormy, babe,” she tells him, pointing to the rum on the menu, “or maybe the Tea Party since, you know, you’re a Brit in Boston.”

“So damn funny,” he scoffs, tapping his fingers against her thigh from where his hand has been resting.

“I’ve never even thought about that before,” David laughs, closing his menu. “You may also like the Bloody Mary.”

“You’re all regular comedians.”

“Aw, he’s kind of crabby,” Ruby sighs, her lips curling up into a smile. “So obviously the Crabby Margarita will also work for you.”

“I believe a margarita would be better for Mary Margaret.”

“Oh I’m not drinking tonight, but I appreciate the pun,” she sighs sweetly, obviously not going to get in on teasing him about his heritage. “Besides, tonight is about Emma and being one year away from thirty, flirty, and thriving. We should totally be making fun of her.”

“What kind of alcohol puns can you make about Emma, though?” Dorothy asks.

“Not really any,” Ruby admits, shrugging her shoulders before taking a sip of her water. “Though, usually when we’re making fun of Emma, we talk about the great tequila incident of 2012.”

“No.”

“Wait,” he laughs, twisting his head to look at Emma and the absolute look of horror that is covering every inch of her skin, “what is this now? I’ve never heard of it, and I really feel like I should know about something that’s called the great tequila incident of 2012.”

“Babe, you really don’t want to know.”

“I really do,” he promises, excitement running through him as he looks between David, Mary Margaret, and Ruby to see which of them is going to break and tell this story.

“So Emma and I were living in this awful apartment,” Mary Margaret begins, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear only for it to fall back from not being long enough, “and we have absolutely no money. I’m a teacher fresh out of getting my Masters and Emma’s just gotten hired as an assistant PR director after that shitty receptionist job she’d had, so we, literally, never go out to do anything because we don’t have money. Ever.”

“Until your homegirl got hired at the same place as Emma,” Ruby adds, excitedly moving her shoulders up and down while Emma’s leg taps underneath his hand.

“Yeah, so we went out to celebrate Ruby getting a new job because she’d spent so damn long in school, and your girlfriend who is about ready to bolt right now, has a few too many drinks. She’s always been a bit of a lightweight.”

“That’s rich coming from you, honey.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes at her husband before looking back at him. “That’s not the point. You’re just mad because you weren’t there that night. Anyways, we’re at a bar and Emma has had too much tequila, so when Ruby suggests that it’s time to go home, Emma just refuses. I mean, absolutely refuses because that awful song Call Me Maybe is on, and she insisted that she had to go around quoting it to every man in the bar before she gave them her number.”

“Please tell me you didn’t, Swan.”

“I did,” she groans, leaning into his shoulder and burying her face in his jacket. “I had to change my number because I kept getting calls asking to talk to the hot blonde that gave away her number and then proceeded to ask every single person if they’d be willing to go on a Segway tour with them by saying ‘we could see Boston, and then I could show you my place.’”

The laughter starts in his stomach, but it makes its way up his entire body, his core and his shoulders shaking as it bubbles up and out of his mouth, nothing containing it as Emma keeps her face buried in his shoulder despite the fact that he must be moving her. It’s not the most embarrassing thing in the world. Not really, but he’s imagining Emma singing the song and propositioning all of those people while Ruby and Mary Margaret were likely curled up in balls laughing at her.

“Why a Segway tour, Swan?” he laughs, squeezing her thigh. “What about that would lead you to taking these guys back to your place?”

“I don’t know. I was drunk. I obviously wasn’t thinking.”

“So now Emma isn’t supposed to drink tequila, and if she does, she either has to sing the entirety of Call Me Maybe or pay for all of us to go on a Segway tour of Boston.”

“Emma, love,” he soothes, moving his hand from her thigh and wrapping it around her shoulder so that he can rub it up and down her arm as she obviously replays the night in her mind, “I’m going to need you to stop drinking too much in front of Ruby and Mary Margaret because it seems to get you into all kinds of predicaments.”

“But that’s how she met you,” Ruby points out, and he smiles at the thought. “I’m still waiting for my boat, by the way. I want it to be called The Love Boat. I’ve said it before, but I obviously need to say it again. I think red will be a good color for it, not tacky at all.”

“You’re not getting a boat,” Emma groans, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. “Also, are we ever going to order? Because it’s my birthday, and I want to eat.”

They do eventually order, and soon the table is full of ridiculous cocktails and water glasses as well as crab, lobster rolls, shrimp, and more seafood than six people will need. But they manage to eat most of it between laughing and sharing more embarrassing stories about Emma. He’s got several up his sleeve, but he’d rather listen to the tales of when all of them were in university together (apparently David came along a bit later, but he knows the stories well enough) and just starting out. Emma is so comfortable with her friends, comfortable with letting them tease her and share things from a time when she likely wasn’t sure of trusting people too much, and he’s not sure if he’s ever been more thankful for three of the people sitting across from him.

They were the ones who Emma opened her heart up to and who didn’t let her down for the first time in her life, and he’s exponentially glad that she has them.

“I’m going to run to the restroom,” Emma mutters after she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the table.

“I’ll join you,” Mary Margaret adds only for Ruby and Dorothy to say the same thing. “And you two cannot make a joke about women traveling in packs to the bathroom when the two of you do stuff like that all of the time.”

“Wasn’t going to, honey,” David sighs, smiling up at his wife. Mary Margaret simply smiles back before she’s walking away, trailing after everyone else as they disappear into the restaurant and out of sight. “So do you feel like you’ve officially been initiated into a Boston man? You’re eating seafood by the harbor when it’s freezing outside. All you need is to be wearing a Sox cap.”

“Well, I did leave my hat and my jersey at home. I knew I was forgetting something when we left the apartment. But yeah,” he shrugs, fingering at the condensation on his glass, “it feels good to be here. It’s definitely not California, but I’m happy. I can’t wait to get into the new place, though. I’m tripping over boxes every two seconds.”

“You never know how much stuff you have until you move, and Emma’s a packrat so that’s got to be awful.”

“It’s not that bad,” he admits, twisting his head and looking out at the water past all of the people who are crowding the streets. “We’ve gone through everything and either donated it, trashed it, or packed it. I don’t think either of us really expected to be able to move so quickly.”

“But when has anything in your relationship ever gone as normal?”

He clicks his tongue, not really sure how to answer that. “Eh, depends on what you’re saying is normal. I think we do what works for us. We haven’t been together for years or anything, but we’ve been together for awhile. And besides two or three days, once we were in, we were all in.”

David’s eyes slant for a moment, the blue turning into slits, and his lips flatten out into a straight line while he looks at Killian. He briefly sees David tilt his head to the side, something almost unnoticeable, but then he’s widening his eyes again as his features relax. He was just being studied, and he’s honestly not sure why.

“You’re going to propose.”

If he were holding his drink instead of thumbing at the water on it while it rests on the table, he’d drop it. He’d drop it and then likely freeze for the chill that’s blowing over the restaurant, the temperatures continuing to fall the longer they stay out here. He can feel the heat as it moves across his face, red flames tickling his skin, and he knows that it’s not from the nip of the air or the warmth of the heater that’s just behind their table.

“Possibly,” he concedes, his eyes glancing over to where Emma had disappeared into the restaurant. As much as he’d like to talk about his thoughts and his plans and the rings that he’s been looking at when he can, he knows that they don’t have a lot of time. “How the hell do you know that?”

“You’re not as suave and mysterious as you think.” He raises a brow, and waits for David to continue. “You love her. You love her in the way that I love Mary Margaret, and while you two are different, it’s still the same.”

“Aye,” he smiles, eyes only straying from David to look to make sure no one is returning to the table, “I do. I love her, and I want to marry her. I know that now isn’t the time, that things are crazy with the move, but I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Killian, that’s incredible,” he laughs, his own face covered in lines while he reaches down to break off a piece of bread. “Emma is like a younger sister to me, and I love her. I just want her to be happy. And you’ve grown on me too, so I guess I want that for you.”

He winks, knowing that he’s got a smirk curling up on his lips. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

Emma comes back to the table first, her hair now pulled up in a ponytail, and sits back down in her chair, her hand landing on his knee and squeezing while Mary Margaret follows closely behind her.

“Where are Ruby and Dorothy?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emma mumbles.

“They’re asking the chef if she’d be willing to make Emma a small birthday cake,” Mary Margaret explains as she rolls her eyes a bit at Emma. “Emma’s embarrassed because she doesn’t want the entire restaurant looking at her as they sing.”

“I’m not embarrassed. I would have been fine if Killian and I had just stopped for milkshakes on the way home.”

“Nonsense, Swan, you’ve got to have your birthday cake.”

Ruby and Dorothy come back to the table with the promise that Emma is going to have a birthday cake brought out to her in a few minutes. Sure enough their waitress comes to the table with a serving dish full of cake, Emma’s name written in sauce on the white of the plate, and everyone sings to her while he watches her attempt not to blush. It doesn’t work, but she tries.

And later that night after Emma has fallen asleep claiming too much cake and seafood, he scrolls through his phone at the pictures from tonight. There’s several of he and Emma, even more of shots he had to take for she and her friends, but as he does, he never uploads a photo of her face online, not since the night they met at the charity gala. Who he’s dating isn’t a secret, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to control what he puts out there on the rare occasions that he does post things online so that Robin doesn’t get onto him about not being social media savvy enough.

So it’s that thought that has him posting a photo of Emma as everyone sings to her. Her hands are covering her face, the loose strands of her ponytail doing the rest of the work, but he can still see the slightest bit of her smile under the glow of the candle light and the bulb lights the restaurant had up.

KillianJonesOfficial: Happy birthday, my love.

He wants to say more, but he thinks he’d rather keep those thoughts to he and Emma. She’s the only one who really needs to hear them.

[everlarkficexchange]

Springtime Edition 2019.

These are the prompts we’ve received so far.

Crossed out prompts have already been selected and are being turned into fics!

I’d like to thank everyone who’s taken the time to come up with an idea and send it our way. Your prompts are the heart of the Exchange. Without them our lovely authors wouldn’t get to write all those beautiful fics. So, please, keep them coming!

You haven’t sent anything yet? Don’t worry, there’s still time. We’ll be receiving prompts until March 3.  Don’t be afraid to inspire us!

Prompts:

Prompt 1: Peeta calls Animal Control Officer Katniss for help with something in his attic. [submitted by @567inpanem​​]

Prompt 2: Struggling artist Peeta is a licensed cosmetologist attracted to gorgeous girl Katniss posting a makeup artist job he assumes is for stage actors but turns out is for her family's funeral home. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 3: When students are forced to squeeze together and share seats because of water damage in classroom, Peeta and Katniss spend hours pressed against each other, like in cave, whispering, sharing... [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 4: I loved this from papofglencoe‘s Bros Before Ho!Ho!Hos! and wondered if it could be everlarked so Katniss has an epiphany like Finnick did when he released himself from past hurt and opened his heart to Annie: “People died every day, whether or not you let them go.” [submitted by @567inpanem​] Bros Before Ho!Ho!Hos! by @papofglencoe​ is HERE

Prompt 5: In the Seam, you can’t do what you want. You just do what you can to survive. When Mrs Everdeen, who never wanted children as long as there were Games, gave birth at home to identical twins, she did what she could: kept one of the girls hidden at all times. And, she taught them to keep the secret when they took turns leaving the house for school or hunting or the reaping. Genre? Drama, romance, comedy, tragedy? [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 6: Cupids are the guardian angels of the heart. Cupid Katniss is sent to answer Peeta’s prayers that he finds a girl before his mother picks one for him. If she fails one more time, she’ll lose her bow privileges forever. Peeta notices every girl. But as Cupid Katniss spends time with him becoming his friend and confidant, she starts feeling jealous of these unworthy girls. Time is running out. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 7: Peeta opens his bakery back up after the war. There are, as expected, lots of female customers who would like to get a little to close to Peeta for Katniss's comfort. Sensing her jealousy, Peeta sets out to prove she has nothing to worry about (can be rated M, if you please!). [submitted by @albinokittens300]

Prompt 8: I have an Everlark music prompt, use the song Animals by Maroon 5. Rated E/smut is a must 😏😉 [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 9: Fic based on Tim McGraw’s “Angry All the Time.” Not necessarily Everlark, but could be. [submitted by @butrfac14] 

Prompt 10: Based on "You Belong With Me" by Taylor Swift music video: Katniss is Lucas Till's character, she has a relationship with Gale, but she doesn't really like being with him. Peeta is pining for her, like Taylor Swift's character, observing them and think he and K belong together. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 11: Based on Aladdin [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 12: canon compliant, except Gale isn't pining for Katniss and actually try to support her after the Games, helps her with Peeta and become friends with Peeta. He makes fun of her with Peeta and Prim and all three of them kind of find a peaceful refugee in this awful world where they can act like the teenagers they are. I would love to see how this would affect the war and the quarter quell too. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 13: Peeta is rescued with Katniss, so they're sleeping together even in the hospital (after in Katniss' family bunker too, like her dream in the movie), P helps K find her place as the Mockingjay, they are late at night talking about how they don't trust those 13 people, they visit D12 together, Katniss sing to him, Peeta is working in the kitchens, Katniss sometimes have crisis of anxiety bc she can't believe her family, Peeta, the Hawthornes are there with her... they're together through it all. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 14: High school AU based on High School Musical films. Katniss is finally singing after her dad died, Peeta is in love with her the moment they sing together in the New Year. K goes to his school and they've these cute moments like each others photo in theirs lockers and rooms at home, they sing together in drama's club plays, Katniss is at Peeta's games, he's touching her every second, especially when they sing (watch HSM2's everyday), his father and brothers laugh at him blushing when she calls... [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 15: You wanna marry me?” Everlark arrangement marriage AU based on true story. Madge’s essay submission wins contest on importance of family. Prize: be reunited with family from home, on stage! She invites best friend Katniss to be there for the big big big event. Madge’s cousin Peeta packed for short visit, but once there finds that his manipulative mother set him up with a job and orders him to marry before he gets deported home for overstaying. Poor Katniss has no family, no other friends... [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 16: The baker hires Katniss to make his deliveries as she walks her trade route. She gets eye opening glimpses of town life and especially of the Mellark family relationships as her job responsibilities grow and she spends more time in the bakery. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 17: "We’re always making stupid bets like ‘bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you" prompt? Pretty please? With extra Everlark fluff on top? :) [submitted by Anonymous via @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 18: we’ve never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall so sometimes we’re showering at the same time and we sing duets AU? [submitted by Anonymous via @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 19: I wish you would write a fic where… katniss and peeta are rivals chefs dating in secret [Submitted by Anonymous via @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 20: Gale returns and he and Katniss patch things up. Peeta seems to feel he's lost her to Gale even after they healed together. Katniss won't stands for this, and explains that no matter what, they would have happened anyways. "I'd chose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I'd find you and chose you." [submitted by @albinokittens300]

Prompt 21: Prompt! One of them struggles to tell the other that they can read minds. [submitted by @sandyeyes]

Prompt 22: Student/Professor. Katniss is stressing out about an assignment and decides to go and talk to Professor Mellark about it, as he’s always been understanding and patient in class. However things turn awkward when Katniss stumbles upon him in his office after hours watching porn on his laptop. Is it deliberate, maybe he needed to relieve some stress or did his brother/friend send him a link to something that he shouldn’t have opened?? It’s up to you writer :) [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 23: I would love to read an In-Panem AU fic/this would have happened anyway story where we see the beginnings of an Everlark relationship and how it slowly turns into puppy love [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 24: Canon Divergence. Through the years Katniss can't stop paying attention to Peeta and she's actually aware of it. When they settle as victors in district 12 or when the time for the victory tour comes (whichever you prefer) she can't keep herself away from him and the line between friendship and something more becomes blurry until it disappears. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 25: I have a song prompt based on Maroon 5's Maps. It fits Everlark so much. Peeta was there for Katniss in her dark times while she almost gave up on him when he was at his worst down on his knees. But eventually he followed the map that led to her and they got back together. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 26: An everlark fic based on the start of Brooklyn 99 where Jake and Amy were 'rivals' and had a bet going on who will get more arrests. Peeta's end of the deal will be getting Katniss on a date while Katniss' prize would be getting to use his car just like the tv show. You can add twists to make it more everlark if you like. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 27: Gale plans on proposing to Katniss and asks for Peeta's help since he's her best friend and he helps Gale plan everything. What Gale doesn't know is that Peeta is in love with Katniss. How everlark gets together is up to you. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 28: Everlark fic based off of 13 going on 30. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 29: Katniss and Peeta are heartbreakers who are afraid of commitment. When they meet they get a bet going with their friends on who will fall in love first. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 30: One night stand everlark and an awkward morning after. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 31: everlark on the brink of a divorce, but then they remember all of the things they've gone through, the sacrifices they made for each other, that they can't live without the other and end up not getting the divorce. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 32: katniss and peeta are best friends who have a biological child together (how they ended up having a kid is up to you and how they'll get together is up to you) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 33: "Where's my engagement ring?" [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 34: Peeta offers to teach Katniss how to bake thinking it'll be a great laugh, but? She's actually kind of amazing at it? [submitted by @ally147writes]

Prompt 35: Katniss and Peeta teaching each other a skill. [submitted by @themiffywrites]

Prompt 36: A fic where katniss and Peeta are on a day cruise that ends up in a storm. Katniss and Peeta end up on a small island by themselves - basically a Blue Lagoon kind of story. [submitted by @spoonlicker817]

Prompt 37: Pre-med student Katniss, who hopes to be a radiologist because then she wouldn’t have to actually speak with patients, cleverly registers for what looks like an anatomy course but fulfills the dreaded fine arts requirement for her biology major. She expects to sketch articulated skeletons in various poses, maybe draw muscle groups and systems. Nope. News flash: it’s daily nudes. Peeta is teacher or model or student? perhaps as an amputee? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 38: A modern AU Everlark dealing with mental illness. Angst, laughs, anything possible. 😁 I'm leaving it open but it's something I'd appreciate seeing. [submitted by @aihodineverlark]

Prompt 39: Pick some memorable fanfics. Write about Peeta so confused, pops in and out of different realities from those fanfics, living lives not his own, yet Katniss is always there or was before he popped into that plane of existence. He wants to “go home” but what is that anymore? Will he ever settle into a life? Will anyone believe him? Is he crazy? Cursed? Dreaming? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 40: Everlark in the Court of Thorns and Roses universe - maybe Katniss/Feyre, Gale/Tamlin and Peeta/Rhys, preferably with everlark smut! [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 41: Everlark based off the Hallmark Christmas Movies Meme: I still going to watch them and act surpsied when she falls in love with the small town baker who only wears sweaters instead of falling for the big city CEO? Yes! Does not need to be Christmas time, but definately end game Everlark! [submitted by @historywriter2007]

Prompt 42: Everlark based off the Coke and Delta Airlines marketing fail of passing out napkins with "Because you're on a plane with interesting people and hey … you never know" featured on one side. The backside featured a spot for one to write a name and phone number. [submitted by @historywriter2007]

Prompt 43: Prompt: I would love anything the "there's only one bed" trope.[submitted by @booksandchocolatesmears]

Prompt 44: Their love was forbidden in more ways than the obvious one (older!Peeta). Their love conquers all even with revelations that destroys other person relationships. AU. Toast babies for extra cookies. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 45: They fell in love young, they married young. People kept telling them that it’s not gonna last. Well they are proving them wrong. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 46: Peeta, the Greek god Apollo, hears the most beautiful voice at his temple so he comes down to earth to find this beautiful maiden. Follows how this god falls in love with a mortal and withstand the trials the other gods put them through. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 47: Modern. Peeta is back home on his time off from the Air Force or army. He meets the newest employee in the bakery, a younger Katniss, who’s working hard to help her family while still going to school. They fall for each other and they didn’t even know when it happened. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 48: Their people had a period of peace that stared to crumpled when bad choices and bad people started to destroy that. With a war in the horizon, there is only one choose to keep the peace. The chief’s daughter needs to marry the crown prince. Werewolf!Peeta Humans and wolves. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 49: He has spent centuries coming at night and sleeping with as many humans as possible, many dying from childbirth with no child to bear, or because his lust overpowered them. He needs to find a women that can live through his lust and birth an healthy offspring and after centuries, he thinks he found the one, the sixteen year old Katniss Everdeen. Dark incubus!peeta Angst Old times. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 50: In an ancient time, grief-strickened 17-yr-old Katniss (fatherless, emotionally abandoned by her mother, just lost beloved sister) walls off her heart, curses the gods for taking Prim, and is severely punished with immortality = unending days of mourning and emptiness in which life has no meaning, until she meets Peeta and learns it’s not years but love that makes a good life. In loving him the curse breaks, she is mortal again, and together they live a HEA. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 51: Fantasy: “Buttercup” (ironically named ��Freedom Cat” by Capital scientist who created him) is an intelligent mutt designed to infiltrate rebel groups and sabotage uprisings, but after being healed by Prim and seeing the impact of Mr. E’s death, he turns on the Capital. “This whole operation was your idea.” [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 52: Everlark Game of Thrones AU! @albinokittens300

Prompt 53: Everlark have been friends for a long time. Then this exchange happens. Person A: Why Do I even like your dumb ass? Person B: Huh? Person A: *panics* I SAID YOU HAVE A NICE ASS. [submitted by @iliveilaughiloveiread]

Prompt 54: Katniss, for some reason, using a car's window as a mirror not knowing there was someone inside the car because of the window being so heavily tinted. Until Peeta, the owner of the car, rolls down the window. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 55: everlark fic based on 'the proposal'. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 56: Katniss is damaged beyond repair when Peeta comes back highjacked so she impulsively goes farther with gale in 2 (becasue we all know he wouldn’t have stopped and didn’t do so bc of any altruistic impetuses) Then, of course, Peeta gets better and regret and bad choices lead to angst. Madge is alive and in D13 too. Thank you for continuing this! [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 57: prompt "hey, you're that asshole that closed the elevator when i yelled at you to hold it!" [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 58: Katniss trying to hate Peeta because she thinks he's the absolute worst but he did something really nice for her little sister and it doesn't hurt that he's also really hot [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 59: "The 'caution floor is wet' sign was there, so it's not my fault you can't read." [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 60: Katniss and Peeta are both in a very crowded train when suddenly Katniss falls onto Peeta's lap and they don't know each other but Katniss finds Peeta really attractive. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 61: everlark prompt "You're the asshole who's been using my wifi!" [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 62: Everlark getting matched in an online chat roulette. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 63: Katniss walking out of the dressing room wearing only a bikini to ask her friend if it suits her but it isn't her friend standing on the other side of the door but Peeta (who she doesn't know yet). [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 64: Katniss and Peeta both have high positions in one company (they're the boss) they despise each other but every employee in the office are secretly pining for them and do everything to get them together. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 65: Dialogue prompt “You did all of this for me?” [submitted by anonymous via @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 66: Dialogue prompt ”I could, uh…I could give you a massage.” [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 67: How about everlark recalling their "reunion" in 13? I imagined it to be intense considering how Katniss was expecting kisses and whatnot and what happened instead was totally heartbreaking [submitted by anonymous via @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 68: Katniss had to have her gallbladder removed and her husband Peeta is there to take care of her. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 69: Peeta finds out that Haymitch fathered a child when he was being tortured. He isn’t sure if it’s real or imagined. He asks Haymitch ..... [submitted by @ealaatnara​]

Prompt 70: No one Katniss knew got reaped, and after the 75th the games stopped, hunting became easier, she’s looking forward to graduation, and she feels a growing attraction to boy with bread but she’s clueless as to what to do after 1 1/2 decades of acting role of son her father never had and man of the house. She approaches problem like stalking game: observe. She learns a lot but realizes she needs help from only one person: popular merchant and Peeta expert Delly who’s thrilled to help in manhunt <3 [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 71: Dialogue prompt: "Hey! You're the one who knocked me over!" [submitted by @creamytinydays​]

Prompt 72: A Legally Blonde crossover, with Peeta inspired by Elle Woods and Katniss as Emmett. [submitted by @creamytinydays​]

Prompt 73: Katniss marries Gale before he’s sent to fight WWII. Gale sends home his buddy Peeta to break the news to his wife and family that he’s fallen in love with someone else in Europe and is staying there after the war... Peeta is under the impression Katniss is a cold woman that only married his friend out of obligation but finds out the other side of the story soon enough. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 74: In Panem AU (no reapings): Katniss miscalculated how soon a snow storm was supposed to hit D12, and gets stuck in town while trading with the merchants. Peeta comes out in the snow to get her to come into the the bakery... she thinks he’s either crazy, up to something or simply dumb... whatever happens next is up to you! [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 75: after work playing games like truth or dare, spin the bottle, etc. that for some reason brings everlark together. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 76: historical au where katniss and peeta are bethrothed since birth and peeta's mom is actually nice. they grow up to be best friends neither of them knowing about the bethrothal until something breaks their friendship and they become enemies. when they finally turn the right age, they find out about the bethrothal and are forced to marry and consummate their marriage even if they despise each other. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 77: super drunk katniss and peeta who are exes wake up together hungover, naked, and... married. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 78: forced to share a bed and building a pillow barrier but still waking up tangled together. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 79: Bounty hunter Katniss thought she was prepared for anything. Then she goes after Mellark, wanted dead or alive. (innocent? alibi? excuse? or fall in love and nothing else matters? or is she getting played by him? what’s real? does it matter if she needs the money?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 80: Really can’t keep hands off each other: Students of massage therapy Peeta and Katniss are partnered up in intensive 16-wk course for hands-on experience. (Final project? Homework? Or is final exam show us what you learned? Or does Peeta have a girlfriend? Think Katniss has a boyfriend?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 81: Dr. Abernathy convinces Katniss to work with new VA hospital patient Peeta who is there for treatment of? But of the two, is she the damaged one that needs help with what’s crippling her? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 82: Young Prince Peeta gets the attention he craves and the revenge on his mother he desires by fucking all her friends’ and acquaintances’ daughters then dumping them quietly or publicly but always chipping away at her manufactured reputation as the perfect powerful Queen. Then he meets Katniss who is pure in every way. What will he do? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 83: A witch is more powerful and safe when they join a coven, in danger without one. But there’s a saying that’s been passed down through generations that’s everyone thinks is just a myth; A witch finds their true powers when they find their true love in their coven. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 84: Katniss tells Prim bedtime stories about a clever, brave duckling’s many adventures. With her good friends cat and goat. Who love baked goods. Maybe Peeta finds out. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 85: Katniss makes unsettling discovery that everyone in her close and extended group of friends has dated at least once and sometimes even each other. Except for her. The “late bloomer” teasing (b/c she’s never even been kissed) stings. Older boy Gale crosses paths with group, finds he shares common interests with Katniss, they get together to hunt, leads to him casually inviting her out for a real dinner date. Not feeling desire but pressure to “get it over with,” she accepts. Peeta has regrets. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 86: Everlark meet on Survivor. Maybe they are contestants? Maybe one works the cameras and keeps following the other around? One is the host and the other a contestant? They compete against and hate each other? Maybe they form an alliance, but end up thinking the other backstabs them? who knows. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 87: Katniss and Gale are about to get married and while Katniss isn't entirely sure if she really wants to marry Gale, she does nothing to stop the preparations. While Peeta, realizing he can't just let Katniss go, does everything to stop the wedding and tell Katniss his feelings for her. Peeta thought he's a hopeless case the day before the wedding until... (it's up to you how it will end, but hopefully it's hea) [submitted by anonymous] 

Prompt 88: Historical Katniss and Peeta hate each other. They attend a masquerade ball and for some reason end up kissing each other. Sparks fly everywhere. Katniss tries to find the man behind the mask but Peeta knows it was Katniss though he doesnt say anything. They end up bethrothed even if they 'despise' each other. How they fall in love is up to u and how katniss figured out it was peeta is up to u [submitted by anonymous] 

Prompt 89: Canon divergence. Katniss and Peeta talk when they return to District 12 after the first games and grow closer.... [submitted by @thestuckinbed]

Prompt 90: Peeta seizes the moment his mother is gone to dash out and quickly give the burnt bread to Katniss in person. Does this more personal interaction change anything? [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 91: I have a personal headcanon that Peeta was involved in drama, and participated in school plays. Unsurprisingly, he is an excellent actor, often receiving lead roles. This can make two prompts. Canon-compliant: Katniss goes to see Peeta perform. AU: Katniss can’t help but get herself involved behind the scenes, and things spiral. (Perhaps Peeta also helps paint props, and sees Katniss working there? It’s up to you!) [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 92: Modern AU: Katniss is present when her father dies a traumatic death. She doesn’t just stop singing. She stops speaking completely. Desperate to help her daughter heal/express herself, Mrs. Everdeen enrols her in art therapy where she meets Peeta Mellark. [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 93: Strangers or not. Katniss and/or Peeta hired as trade show model (for ?) to draw traffic to booth. Does the one who hired the other get crazy jealous over all the ogling by strangers? Or perhaps a competition between them to attract more people ends in melee when they go way way way beyond what is appropriate? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 94: Smut. Hot, sweaty, passionate, loving, smut. Everlark has to be married and it can only be the 2 of them. No three-somes or switching partners. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 95: Modern a/u: Katniss and Peeta are personal assistants to overzealous bosses Effie and Haymitch. They try to coerce their bosses together in order to get some relief themselves. Meanwhile they start to fall in love as their plan backfires. [submitted by @ra3lynn3]

Prompt 96: Based on "Crazy Rich Asians". I would love to see all the amazing fluff crazines that was that movie everlarked. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 97: Katniss and Peeta’s new PE teacher sets up competition to motivate class, but things quickly get out of hand when students begin placing all kinds of bets on outcomes of events. Winning is all that matters. Lines are crossed. Mind games played. Risks taken. People hurt. Supporters engage in dirty tricks and pressure favorites to win at any cost. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 98: Cannon compliant except Petra isn’t hijacked. What their reunion should have been. [submitted by @spoonlicker817]

Prompt 99: Peeta banks sperm (maybe before chemo; maybe eldest bro infertile, asks Peeta & Rye to donate samples to be mixed so no one can say who bio father is, but never go through with procedure). Katniss needs $, becomes surrogate BUT impregnated with Peeta’s sample by mistake! Client backs out, facility shut down, Katniss broke, Peeta wants baby. Age Gap? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 100: Mistaken Identity. (Maybe Peeta or Katniss makes gesture to express feelings for other who doesn’t realize it was him/her, receiver then goes on to accept date from wrong 3rd party. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 101: You're my best friend's relative, (maybe Finnick is Katniss's cousin?? Maybe Annie/Madge/Johanna is Peeta's relative??) And I've convinced myself you're off limits and not interested anyway. But now we're in very close quarters (group trip to the cabin? Vacation? Roommates for the summer? Snowed in?) and I'm having a hard time denying the chemistry between us. Every. Single. Time. I try to bring it up or kiss you we get interrupted. [submitted by @7-ah]

Prompt 102: There's only ONE bed! [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 103: An AU where Katniss's father is a victor. [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 104: Peeta is on the short side, hasn’t joined the wrestling team yet, is known to be artistic, in other words “soft,” and is all around going through an awkward period of puberty. While he is well-liked within his own circle, Peeta is in no way a part of the “in-crowd.” Katniss is infuriated when she discovers a gang of boys bullying him and steps up to his defense. [submitted by @wingletblackbird​]

Prompt 105: Katniss was naked when Peeta first saw her. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 106: When Katniss and Peeta talk it out after the first Games, they get close and spend their nights together. Mrs. Everdeen, is not the happiest about this and she much face the fact that as far as her daughters are concerned, she abandoned them when their father died. And she can't blame them. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 107: Peeta leaves notes, sketches, drawings, paintings, (maybe even parts of his allowance if it’s a bad winter?) etc. in Katniss’ locker. It’s the only way, given their circumstances in twelve, both social and familial, that he can realistically show her affection, even if she doesn’t know who it’s from. At least she’ll know, she’s admired/not alone. Katniss initially is resentful of the gesture, but over time grows fond of her secret admirer, and looks forward to her next gift. What happens next? [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 108: Katniss, or at least Peeta, isn't reaped AU: Peeta decides to become involved with the rebels in 12. He realises the victors are the best chance at unifying the districts, and finding Capitol sympathizers, since they all go to the Capitol once a year, then return home. Suspecting he isn't the only person to have thought of this, he approaches Haymitch who brings him into the fold. Peeta uses his talents as an artist, (graffiti?), and orator to inspire rebellion. [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 109: Rated E Everlark story where Virgin!Peeta affectionately describes Virgin!Katniss's uhh... Woman hood between her legs as a beautiful flower. Everlark has to be end game. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 110: A time travel AU: Katniss from Mockingjay, (any part of the book, it's up to you), winds up back the day before her sister's first reaping. What does she do now that she knows what's coming? Now that she knows how Peeta feels about her, and she knows how desperately she needs him, and what they could share? What on earth could she, or should she, even do/change? And what is she should lose it all again? [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 111: Write me a good enemies to lovers, Hogwarts crossover, where Peeta is a Slytherin, Katniss a Gryffindor... extra points if Finnick is a Hufflepuff and somehow is best friends with both of them. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 112: I was hoping for one bed, but there are actually two, so now I have to find a way to naturally end up snuggling with you. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 113: Little mermaid prompt. Or something along those line where one of them is a mermaid and the other isn’t. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 114: Katniss is sick ( could be an injury, disease, or the common cold! Whatever you want) and Peeta freaks out over it and tries to take care of her. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 115: Peeta‘ s mother dies shortly after Peeta tosses bread to Katniss. 11 months after she dies, Peeta’s dad remarries the “plain” younger daughter of the Hardware store. No one ever expected her to marry, she’s quiet and “not very pretty” according to some merchant women. She is kind, caring and doesn’t care if your seam or merchant. She and Mr Mellark have a daughter together a year or so after the marriage. What will happen when this happens and what of Peeta and Katniss’ future? [submitted by @ealaatnara]

Prompt 116: Katniss and Peeta are recently married, and Katniss is teaching Peeta how to drive. Peeta has never learned how since he could always either walk to where he needed, or take the bus. Why go through the expense and hassle of driving school when you can be environmentally friendly, enjoy the scenery, relax and not have to worry about the wheel, and otherwise avoid uncomfortable things like road rage? Katniss has had enough of this nonsense. YOU NEED TO LEARN HOW TO DRIVE, PEETA! [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 117: Fairy Tale AU: Katniss and Peeta as Beauty and the Beast. Katniss would go looking for her missing father, and absolutely trade places with him. The ominous rose is from Snow who rules the land, and whom Peeta has offended for some noble cause. Gale as Gaston, because he is a hot-headed hunter who would, of course, rush in to KILL THE BEAST! for Katniss. [submitted by @wingletblackbird]

Prompt 118: katniss and peeta seeing each other again years after the last time they saw each other which was their senior prom where they slept with each other. in high school were they best friends? maybe lab partners? or were they just drunk off their asses? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 119: Everlark friends, one is a writer of romance or smut (novels, fanfiction, whatever) and uses the other as inspiration. What happens when they find out? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 120: “Whatever happened to Pretty Baby contest winners Peeta and Katniss who did that commercial for baby food? She was the scowling ‘before’ and he was the adorable happy ‘after’ baby delicately eating a spoonful of orange? Then she rips the bowl away and makes a mess? Remember that? Whatever happened to them?” [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 121: Post mockingjay everlark based on this post and its hashtags. “oh this would absolutely be them every single morning lol trying to be productive and get things done and then this happens peeta trying to bake things/prep things for his day at the bakery or trying to make breakfast katniss trying to get ready to hunt/gather in the woods and then passing kisses and caresses turn into full blown makeouts only to have peeta cave and hoist katniss up into his arms which after a while 1 imagine would turn into habitual morning sex/makeout seshes lol like they'd be like okay we're not even going to try getting ready first we're going to focus on each other first before anything else at least for the first few years they live with each other lol rabbits ra b b i t s.” Also, it would be awesome if Katniss noticed how Peeta's body grows with time, like he is even more hot and this makes Katniss is even more horny. [submitted of anonymous]

Prompt 122: Hi would like to submit a prompt where a young Prim starts posting sticky notes on her bedroom door as a sort of wish list when things like her birthday or Christmas are coming up. The Everdeen’s think it’s incredibly endearing and all start doing it, eventually it sort of becomes a tradition. Later on when Katniss and Peeta are together they do it too and Peeta uses the sticky notes to propose and Katniss uses them to tell him she’s pregnant, etc for important and sweet moments in their life. [submitted by @persephoneprim]

Prompt 123: Everlark - Instant Family inspired where they end up deciding to foster a child but end up with three children. [submitted by @que-sera-sera88]

Prompt 124: Drunk Katniss can’t take her make up off so Peeta does it for her. Fluffy everlark! [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 125: Happy, fluffy Newlywed!Everlark, please? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 126: Peeta doing a lap dance/stripping for Katniss. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 127: Everlark plays April Fools pranks on each other, but not just on the day, they do pranks throughout the week of April Fools up to the day and one them, I'd say Peeta, takes it too far and puts a fully naked picture of themselves on the front of the other's phone and when they discover the prank they're not the only one who sees it. [submitted by @amazinglovers747]

Prompt 128: Everlarked Superheroes (Bonus points if one is the hero, the other the villain!) <3 [submitted by @thelettersfromnoone​]

Prompt 129: Modern AU inspired in the song ghostin by Ariana Grande. [submitted by @lavender-evelopes]

Prompt 130: Katniss works as a park ranger. Peeta is a photographer/artist coming to said park to find inspiration. [submitted by @wingletblackbird​]

Prompt 131: I’d like to submit THIS as an Everlark prompt. [submitted by @amazinglovers747]

Prompt 132: Please tell me about the night before the 74th Games at the homes of the Mellarks, Everdeens and Hawthornes; and what it’s like the next night after the reaping with Peeta and Katniss gone; and how Rye bonds with Prim over the days following; and how they celebrate the win cautiously; and how they help Peeta and Katniss to heal and to bond and to love. Thank you 😊😘 [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 133: Visual prompt [submitted by @amazinglovers747]

Prompt 134: Visual Prompt. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 135: Peeta has baby fever, Katniss on the other hand, not quite. [submitted by anonymous]

Feeling inspired?

Choose a prompt from the list and tell us about it. (Chosen prompts will be removed from the list so that there will only be one fic/artwork per prompt.)

Write a fic or create some artwork. Fics can be as short as 500 words or as long as you like. They can be one-shots, new chapters from your current WIPs, or out takes from any one of your fics. As long as your work covers the details provided in the prompt, you can create whatever moves you.

Submit your finished fic or artwork. We’ll be posting finished works from March 24 to April 7.

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