#sometimes i step back and think 'everything i have ever done has been a long chain of mistakes'

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn

[miss-anthropyxx]

casually spiraling and dont think there's anything i can do about it at this point anymore. i wanna just give up and let myself spiral.

[kbwrites]

Husband! Nanami

synopsis: your husband comes home for another long and arduous day. He only wishes to stay with you forever.

⚝tags: husband!nanami, reader is a housewife, nsfw, nanami loves eating his wife out

⚝wc: 1.6k

Husband Nanami! Drags his feet, trudging wearily to the entrance of his shared home. Each step heavier than the last. Work has been increasingly stressful, each day more demanding than the last. Today was no different. He brings a tired hand up to the doorknob, turning it slowly. The soft yellow light of the foyer illuminates his face, the scent of his safe space hitting his nostrils.

“Kento?” There it was, the most melodious symphony he’d ever heard. Rounding the corner it was you, his loving wife. In that moment it seems as though all the stress from the day melts away, a small smile graces his lips and his tired eyes close briefly.

“Hello dear.”

Kento wasn’t exactly sure when he fell in love with you, just that at some point he stopped being able to imagine what life would be like without your presence. You became his peace, a ray of sunshine that cut through the darkness in his life. He never believed in karma or fate, but sometimes he’d wonder what he had done in his life to be deserving of your love.

He slips out of his shoes, heavy footsteps and drooping shoulders trudge toward you. He wrapped his strong arms around you, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Kento bends down slightly, burying his head into your hair allowing your scent to permeate his senses. You always smelled so good… A low hum of content emanates from his throat, almost like a cat purring. His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly close.

“How was your day?” He mumbles into your skin.

“My day was good.” You reply quietly. “What about you?”

“Long. Tiring..” He says with a sigh, pulling away slightly so he can have a better look at his sunshine. His hand reaches to cup your face, thumb making small circles on your cheek. You look at your husband, honey-colored eyes half-lidded, dark circles occupying his face. It was taking everything in him to stand right now.

“Are you hungry?” You muse, nuzzling your face into his hand. He only nods, still looking at you with tired eyes. Taking the hand that held your face you lead him to the dining room. The smell of food wafts through the room, a plate of steak and mashed potatoes, still hot. He takes a seat at the table, eyes lighting up at the dish.

“Thank you, my love.” He says before taking a bite, his eyes closing in satisfaction as the savory taste hits his tongue. He loved your cooking, it was like a balm to his weary soul. He continues eating in silence, looking up at you. You rest your chin in your hands, smiling at your husband.

“You’re not eating?” He says after swallowing.

“I ate before you came home.” A pang of guilt washes over him, Kento knows you probably waited as long as you could hoping you could hold out and wait to eat with him. With all the long hours he’s been putting in, he's barely had time for the one thing that made his life worth living

“I’m sorry…” He reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You just smile, how did he end up with an angel?

He finishes eating his food, you get up grabbing the empty plate. Kento gently grabs hold of your wrist.

“Please, you cooked let me-”

“You can barely stand Ken.” You’re right, he’s come to find out that you usually are. He sinks back in the chair, too exhausted to protest. After loading the dishwasher you come back into the dining room, your husband exactly where you left him. Fighting off sleep in the chair.

You take his large hand in your smaller one, leading him to the bathroom. Although, Nanami is a serious man, one who was insistent on retiring you when you got married. He secretly loved when you took care of him, your gentle hands working his sore muscles combined with the hot water cascading down his body; he thinks in this moment he could fall asleep standing up.

He looks down at his wife fussing over him, your naked form, suds of soap covering your glistening skin. Even running on 3 hours of sleep the desire in him for his lover burns. His hands roam over your curves, gripping your hips. You pause your movements looking up at him as he pulls you closer, pads of his fingers digging lightly into the fat of your hips. How long had it been since he touched his wife? Made her writhe under him? Far too long in his opinion.

You finish the shower, leading his towel-clad body to your bedroom, drying him off you grab his night clothes from the top drawer. Suddenly bashful at all the attention you’ve been giving him Kento grabs your arm as you try to slip on his pajama pants. You look up at him inquisitively.

“Kento?” He doesn’t answer, just pulls you onto his lap. His large hands holding you in place.

“Darling..” His voice hoarse. Your body shivers in response, even after a year of marriage the sight before you— his chiseled abs, damp blond hair framing his sharp features, his lips parted and pupils blown… It was still too much. You feel the arousal pool between your legs.

“K-kento, you’re tired...” You try to be the voice of reason, but the love of your life looks so damn good right now. He places soft kisses on your chest, setting fire to your skin.

“You’ve been so good to me, allow me this.” He says before trailing kisses up and down your neck. His hands leave your waist, his touch slow and deliberate. His lips ghost over you, landing next to your ear.

“It’s been terrible my love… working all day when I’d rather be here… having you.” His breath against your ear.

“Ken!” You say embarrassed, he was always so blunt when you were having sex. “Just don’t go overboard…” You chide in between moans, your hands find his damp hair, raking through it gently. 

He uses the bit of strength he has left to lay you down on the bed, your back hitting the plush comforter. His hand trailing between your legs, he groans as he feels the wetness between your folds. Your back arches as he brings his digits up to your clit, making slow deliberate circles.

He looks up at you, eyes clouded with lust.

“Honey, I need you.” Is all he says before he buries his face into your cunt.

His tongue darting out to lap up all of your slick. Your darling husband sucking gently on your clit as his fingers tease your entrance. Your moans and whimpers only serve to encourage him. His long finger slides in, curling it upwards to your sweet spot.

“Kento~ s’good” You breathe, one hand snakes up to your stomach, giving the soft flesh a squeeze. His way of saying he heard you. His eyes flutter shut, completely enraptured in pleasing his precious wife. All the paperwork, unnecessarily long meeting with his boss, the entire shit storm of the day all seems to float away as he rests between your thighs.

“So good f’me my love.” He mumbles against your skin. The hand he had on your stomach reaches below to his growing erection. He wraps his hand around his thick length, rutting into his tight fist. He moans against your cunt, imagining his fist were your heavenly walls.

He knows you so well, just by the slight change in your voice he can tell he’s bringing you closer to the edge. His pace quickens, inserting another thick finger into your cunt, your walls flutter around him. Hot squelching noises emanate from your core. He released your clit with a ‘pop’ using the wet muscle to circle around the bundle of nerves. He wants so badly for you to cum, his own pleasure completely reliant on it. Your breath hitches, body spasms as you finally release. Your arousal coating his fingers, he removes them from you replacing them with his mouth. 

He greedily slurps up all the slick from your entrance, humming as your sweet essence coats his taste buds. 

“Kentooo” You whine, slightly overstimulated. You squirm trying to push your lover's head away from your throbbing cunt, he only grunts, strong arms holding your legs in place. Only after he’s had his fill he crawls up to you, resting your head on his broad chest. 

Your husband places kisses on your forehead, stroking your slightly damp hair. He takes deep breaths, helping to pace your own breathing. He looks down at his world, even your blissed out state was irresistible to him. 

“Was that too much for you my love?” He questions softly. You shake your head, a tired smile graces his lips.

“I’ve been neglecting you honey… I’m sorry.” He says apologetically, tracing patterns on your skin. You look up at him, the guilt evident on his face. 

He worked so hard so that you wouldn’t have to, his darling wife shouldn’t have to lift a finger. However he couldn’t bear the thought of you waiting up for him, missing him. The light of his life, so lonely in the big house he bought for her.

“It’s alright Ken.” You offer a gentle smile, of course, you missed your husband, but you didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was. 

“No. It isn’t.” He said firmly. “I’ll request more days off, I need rest. And I need you.” He holds you tight as if you’d disappear at any moment. His mind was set, you swoon at your husbands' words.

“Good.” You say smiling, he leans down to place a gentle kiss to your lips. He rolls over to his back, the exhaustion hitting him again. You throw the cover onto both of your bodies. Sleeping taking over him quickly. You place a kiss to your husband's cheek before closing your eyes.

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[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Dating After A Toxic Relationship

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I had 😊 Remember, requests are open! Be sure to read my rules and please respect that I'm only interested in writing for these characters. Thank you! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher is very vocal. He knows you jump and scare easily, so he always makes a point to say where or if he's going to touch you, if he's upset and why (so that you don't worry you're the reason), when he'll be back, etc. This takes a lot of trial and error between the two of you. Butcher is an angry, violent person. You knew this going into the relationship. There's always a worry it could turn on you, and that's what he fears most: that you'd ever be afraid of him. He reassures you constantly he would never, ever hurt you. He knows all about what your ex did. You wanted to be up front and honest, knowing some of your behaviors might seem strange or out of place. The last thing he ever wants to do is emulate your ex and though it takes a lot of rewiring and assessment of his actions, he's trying to be better for you so that he doesn't lose you.

Hughie hates what your ex has done. Bit by bit, you give him the overview of your relationship, what they were like, and how they treated you. Sometimes you jump or flinch and he's reminded all over again that, despite what he does, there will always be this underlying fear and distrust. It took a long time to date him let alone tell him everything. He's patient and gentle and makes sure you're okay with every step you take further into the relationship. He takes every relationship show regardless of past history. When you see your ex again you have to pull Hughie away, not wanting him to start anything. He can't help it. He looks at them and he sees red. He's filled with disgust and hatred. Hughies always been on the timid side, but the thought of someone hurting you like that boils his blood.

Annie never wants you to feel like you have to hide that kind of thing from her. She knows all about power hungry people who take advantage of others. Still, she can't believe it. You're kind and funny and sweet and you always have everyone's best interest at heart. You know what it's like to get hurt, you wouldn't dare hurt someone else. She knows you don't want any trouble with them, you just want to move on, but she can't help but light up when she sees them. Secretly she goes to them and makes it known if they so much as look at you, even think about you, they're done. She's always asking if what you're doing is okay and wants to be as open as possible about boundaries. You're grateful she likes innocent touching, mostly hand holding, and when you're having a hard time you know she'll grab your hand and squeeze it, reminding you she's always here for you.

M.M knows all about your ex. He was the one to help you get out of that relationship in the first place. Since then you've become really close, so close he's now your boyfriend. After your ex shows up at your work one day, Marvin decides to take things into his own hands. The Boys make a special appearance at their apartment where they make it known they are never to go near you ever again. You have a lot of fears about trusting someone again, especially in a relationship, but M.M. is patient. He never wants you to feel like you have to do something you don't want to or aren't ready for. He's more than okay with taking things slow. He actually prefers it that way. He's extremely protective over you and, unfortunately, are his biggest weakness. If Homelander ever found out about you, M.M. would be done for.

Frenchie met your ex a few times before you broke things off. The way they spoke to you, wanted to control you, all the sings were there. He feels awful that he didn't see it sooner, but you could never blame him. You're just glad you got away from them. Frenchie is attentive and devoted and males sure you're comfortable with every step in your relationship. He offers, jokingly though not jokingly, to have your ex killed when they start sending calls and texts and emails. You assure him it's okay, you'll handle it. He knows you're more than capable, but he's always got a back up plan ready just in case they want to try anything more. He's extremely patient when you decide to tell him. He knows there's more to the story than what you're sharing, but he doesn't push it. He's grateful you shared anything at all. It's a big step and means a lot that you'd trust him.

Kimiko is learning to trust just like you are. You've both been through a lot, but you find a great solace in one another. Kimiko isn't sure who this random person is that shows up looking for you, only that the rest of The Boys are suddenly cagey, angry, and very protective. They're grateful you're not there. When she asks about them, you finally tell her. You dated a while ago and it wasn't a safe relationship. You thought you could get away from them, but they seek you out. They like to know they're in control. She feels awful. You're genuine and smart and sweet. Those terrible things that happened to you only made you softer and, unfortunately, more prone to anxiety and distrust. She leaves it up to you to take the next steps in your relationship. You appreciate more than you could ever put into words. You love her, but you need to take things slow.

Bonus! Homelander killed them a long time ago. The moment you showed up in his life, he knew there was someone who'd hurt you. It takes a long time to tell anyone, let alone him. One day the phone calls and texts and emails just stop. They stop showing up at Vought looking for you. You think you've finally scared them off or perhaps they got bored, but it was actually your new boyfriend. Normally he'd like to boast all about how he tortured them, h9w easy it was to kill them, how stupid they looked when he pulled out all their teeth, but he knows you wouldn't like that, so he keeps it to himself. He knows no one will miss them. You certainly don't. You're sleeping better now and getting more comfortable in your relationship without the constant threat of them showing up or following you. Homelander rests easy knowing they can never hurt you again. He lacks a lot of self-awareness in this department.

[sainns]

IMPATIENT.

𝓢.ㅤ he had everything planned out but how's he supposed to wait when it comes to you?

PSHㅤ୨୧ ⠀ femreader⠀ . . .ㅤ fluff, established relationship, sunghoon pov, awkward ending oops idk how to end stuff, this is a repost cos i accidentally deleted it a while agoㅤ1147 words

sunghoon often gets overwhelmed by his feelings for you. sometimes the love he feels gets to be so intense that he doesn't know what to do, losing the ability to think rationally about anything that has to do with you.

he knew right away that he wanted to be the one to marry you but he held back for the four years and eight months that you dated, waiting until you talked about marriage first. you'd brought it up to him one morning, a simple conversation. one he replayed for weeks.

during those weeks he planned everything; his proposal. he bought a ring, bought tickets to paris (jake's idea—city of love and all that), booked a really nice hotel, and he had a whole itinerary for the day he planned on proposing. he's pretty sure he's going to be in debt for the rest of his life because of these expenses but it's worth it.

when he brought up the trip to you he simply played it off as something for your five year anniversary, it was close enough to the date so you didn't think much of it. five years was a long time so why wouldn't you do something special?

so on thursday morning, you rush to the airport because someone (sunghoon) didn't want to leave your embrace yet. thankfully, you made it on time, sunghoon holding tightly onto your hand to make sure he doesn't lose you in the crowd.

it takes fourteen hours to get from seoul to paris and another hour to drive to the hotel. the flight was.. okay. as good as a flight can be but god was it tiring, you don't think you and sunghoon have ever been as happy as you were to see a bed until tonight.

the next day you take it easy, spending most of it inside your hotel room, briefly stepping out to get dinner at some restaurant nearby. you're walking back, hands swinging back and forth slightly.

"what're we doing tomorrow?"

sunghoon hums, "it's a surprise,"

you knock your shoulder against his, "can i have a hint?"

"nope,"

you groan, throwing your head back while sunghoon smiles fondly at you. he loves you, he knows that. today, though, it feels like it's bigger than love. a lot bigger. you haven't even done anything significant today; it was practically just a regular day. okay, other than the fact that you were at a hotel in paris, but he ignores that part.

honestly, he isn't sure if there's a word deep enough to describe how he feels for you. it feels like he's drowning, sinking deeper and deeper every second that he spends with you and he's okay with that. more than okay; he's happy.

he wants to make you happy, too. he wants to spend the rest of his life seeing your smile and your laugh. he feels a slight wave of anxiety wash over him—what if he messes everything up? what if his proposal turns out to be awful?

he sighs, shaking those thoughts out of his head, instead focusing on you whine about how you need him to tell you what the surprise is. he just laughs at you, pulling out the key to the hotel room.

"i'll tell you tomorrow when we wake up, okay?"

"or now," you smile up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. his hands instinctively go to your waist.

"i can't, baby,"

"i'm gonna stay up all night thinking about this,"

he leans down, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, "yeah, i'm sure you will,"

you don't stay up all night. in fact, you fall asleep almost right away, probably still exhausted from yesterday's flight. sunghoon wishes he could fall asleep as easily as you, but he can't. not when he's proposing to you tomorrow. the presence of the ring hidden inside his suitcase is too suffocating, it's like he can feel it in his hands already.

he pulls you closer to his chest, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. he really hopes that tomorrow will be your last day as simply boyfriend and girlfriend.

he falls asleep after you but he wakes up before you. he's glad that he did because it gives him the opportunity to stare at you. he likes when he wakes up before you; it gives him the chance to see you at your most peaceful, when all the stress from your life is missing.

he shifts, cupping your cheek with his hand, rubbing small circles against your skin. he stares at you for a few seconds longer before leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead.

"g'morning,"

he smiles against your skin, "morning, baby. did i wake you up? i'm sorry,"

you groan, pulling away from him so that you can rub your eyes, "no, i was already awake,"

he hums and you sit up, stretching your arms out.

"i didn't forget about the surprise, by the way," you glance towards him, "tell me, pretty please,"

he's quiet when he speaks, licking his lips, "i love you,"

"i know you do. i love you too. is that your surprise?" you lay back down, the two of you facing each other.

"will you marry me?"

he doesn't think before asking you. it forces its way out of his mouth, not giving him any choice in the matter. at first he doesn't care, but soon you can practically see him go though all five stages of grief.

"wait, wait, wait," he presses his hand over you mouth when you begin to speak, "don't say anything. i—god, let me ask you for real. i want it to be special, not something i say randomly,"

you listen to him patiently, waiting for him to stop before pulling his hand away from your mouth, "that was special, silly,"

he gives you a dirty look, "uh, no. i don't think me proposing to you in a hotel bed is special,"

"i think so. it's like.. you really couldn't wait to ask me,"

"i couldn't wait,"

"and i can't wait to answer you,"

he stares at you, taking in your expression. you're smiling at him, a soft smile that he hasn't seen from you before. it's different than all your other smiles, he doesn't know why. this one feels like you can understand the feeling that he has for you; something way beyond love.

"will you marry me?"

you giggle, a grin breaking out onto your face, "can i answer this time?"

he nods.

"mhm, i'll marry you,"

"thank you,"

"you don't have to thank me,"

he smiles, "yeah, i do. thank you for letting me into your life all those years ago and thank you for letting me stay in it," he leans forward, pressing his lips against yours, "i love you more than love."

note. idk why i deleted this hello ... i think i hated it that's why LMAOOO

[dreamescapeswriting]

Shadows And Sanctuary ~ LMH

⤜ WORD COUNT: 4.6K

⤜ PAIRING: Mafia!Minho x Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: established relationships, anxiety, overprotective minho, sweet, cute, afraid to lose her WARNING: mentions of violence toward reader (not inflicted by minho!)

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The late-night air was thick as you left work, your part of the city seemed to be experiencing one of the hottest summers known to man and leaving work in the middle of the night didn't even cool you down. The air was thick and hot, making it almost unbearable to breathe in and you almost regret turning your boyfriend's suggestion of taking you out for the week to get to a cooler climate. Your exhaustion from your shift weighed down on you as you headed through the streets toward your car trying to keep your thoughts on your nice long weekend with Minho.

You couldn't wait for it to just be the two of you locked up in his house just cuddling all weekend long. Not that anyone would ever believe that one of the highest-ranking mafia members in the city was as soft as he was but with you? Minho was practically a kitten in your hands rather than the jaguar he had to be out in the streets. You stared down into your bag as you searched through it to find your keys, something you should have done before you got outside. Minho was always telling you to make sure you had everything ready before you got to the car since you never really knew who was walking the streets late at night.

It was a miracle Minho even let you work as it was, he was always telling you how dangerous it was but you sometimes refused to listen to him. Assuming you were safe since the relationship between the two of you was mostly hidden behind closed doors. The only people who knew the two of you were a couple were a close group of his men and one person from work who had caught him waiting for you one night.

"Excuse me, Miss Yln?" Your head shot up from your bag and you glanced around you, turning to the source of the voice to see a man standing there. He had piercing blue eyes and an unsettlingly calm demeanour about him. He was dressed in a tailored suit and had a scar running down the left side of his cheek, setting alarm bells ringing inside of your mind.

"Yes?" You did your best to keep your voice steady with a hint of confidence behind it. The man took a step closer, his eyes never leaving you as he smiled at you, but it did nothing to ease the uneasy feeling you had growing in the pit of your stomach.

"My name is Rhysand Kovac, I believe you might know my name." Your heart pounded in your chest. Minho had mentioned Rhysand a bunch of times, always tense conversations and moments of dread whenever he was brought up and you could feel your stomach sinking. What was he even doing here? Your relationship was a secret, for this reason, you didn't want to risk anybody finding you.

"I have," You managed to say, taking a small step back away from him. Rhysand smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes but you bumped into a man's chest as you stared up to see a bald man staring down at you leaving you completely trapped.

"That saves us a bunch of time then," He chuckles deeply as he looks at you, his hands shoved into his pockets as you stare at him, wishing you'd taken Minho's offer on having a guard with you.

"You see, your boyfriend has left me in a bit of a predicament. He's been causing trouble for me and my associates and I need to get his attention and send a message." Your mouth went dry as you shook your head trying to think of a way to get out of this.

"I'm just a nurse, okay? I don't know anything about anybody's business." You lied but Rhysands expression hardened as he closed the distance between you and him within two strides, his hand gripping onto your arm with such force you knew it was going to bruise.

"I believe you dear, but it's not about what you know." He grumbles at you, his face turning red with anger, his grip tightening so much you are beginning to lose feeling in your arm.

"It's about what you mean to him," He says through gritted teeth, his eyes burning into yours as you whimper at him,

"Please...Please, let me go. I haven't done anything to you," You cried out, doing your best to stay as calm as possible but it was practically impossible now he was holding you in his grip. Rhysand took a deep breath as he leaned in closer, nuzzling his head in your neck.

"You're right, you haven't. But Minho has, and you?" A devilish smirk takes over his face as he stares down at you. He'd been planning this for weeks, watching you, making sure you had no guards at any point and making sure to get your shift schedule from the hospital.

"You're going to make sure he understands the consequences of his actions," Your mind screamed for you to fight, to kick, scream, bite, punch, anything but you couldn't move, completely frozen in place with his grip on your unyielding as you let out a small whimper of discomfort.

"What do you want from me?!" You asked, your voice trembling and it didn't go unnoticed by Rhysand who was smirking and letting out a deep chuckle.

"I need you to give Minho a message," He said, his tone cold and final as he stared down at you,

"If he doesn't comply with my demands, you'll be the one to pay the price," The hand that wasn't gripping you reached up and he cupped your face in his hand, running his thumb over your skin.

"And believe me, I always make good on my threats." With that, he let you go, stepping back as his eyes bored into yours and you felt your stomach churning.

"Now, run and tell him, I'm always watching kitten." The nickname Minho used for you tasted like acid coming from him and you fumbled to unlock your car, slamming and locking the door.

Your hands were shaking so badly you could hardly get the keys into the ignition before you sped off, glancing in the mirror to see Rhysand still standing there, his eyes still on you as he watched you drive off with a calculating expression on his face.

Tears blurred your vision as you navigated the streets, your mind a whirlwind of fear and worry, you knew the way to Minho's like the back of your hand and you didn't care how many traffic laws you broke in order to get there in a hurry.

Minho was practically yawning during the meeting he was having, surrounded by some of his men as they discussed strategies for territorial disputes. To be completely honest, Minho was mostly drowning it all out, looking forward to when you'd eventually come back and meet with him so he could unwind at the weekend.

Never in a million years would he have thought he'd find someone like you, someone who he wanted to take time off work for and spend hours with, forgetting everything around him.

"Changbin you need to tighten security on the east side. The shipments next week are due and I don't want any mishaps like the last time," He grumbled, his voice commanding. As he was about to say something else the door to his office burst open, slamming against the wall and knocking a painting from it. Guns all aimed in your direction as you stared at Minho, tears running down your face.

"Minho!" you cried out, your voice breaking. Minho shot to his feet, the chair knocking over in the process, he'd never seen you so distraught before.

"Yn?" His voice was mixed with concern and shock as he saw you. You'd never burst into his office before, you'd never even walked into the home unannounced.

"If you don't put your guns away I will personally shoot all of you!" He boomed before the men filed their guns away and he moved around the table, bringing you into his arms.

All of Minho's men watched you in stunned silence as you crashed into his arms, your head hiding in his arms.

"He-He was there, he threatened me," you managed to stumble the words out through your sobs but Minho held your body close to his,

"Who, Yn? Who threatened you?" He did his best to keep his voice soft with you, not wanting to scare you anymore than you clearly were. His men all watched closely as they waited for you to answer, some of them ready to jump into action the second a name was uttered from your lips. Minho slowly tilted your chin to look at him, his eyes searching yours as you let fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

"Rhysand." You whispered, your voice trembling almost as though you were scared to speak his name into the universe.

"Rhysand Kovac. He waited...outside the hospital and he said-" You sighed a little as you willed yourself not to cry, to at least get the words out before you broke down again.

"If you don't comply with his demands...it'll be me that pays the price," The room went deathly quiet, the only that could be heard were the men getting ready to kill on their boss's command.  

"Did he hurt you?" Minho's voice remained eerily calm and you looked at your arm,

"He hurt my arm...Minho, I'm scared," There was a little shame in your voice as you admitted it and Minho took a deep breath, his mind racing on where to even begin with it. Over his shoulder his men were assembled, their expressions ranging from concern to barely concealed anger.

"Say the word, boss," Changbin told him, holding his gun in his hand and Minho bit his cheek. As badly as he wanted to retaliate he knew he needed to think with a clear mind.

"Meetings over, get out." He bit out harshly, his men filing out of the room throwing you a worried glance as they walked past you.

Once they were gone, Minho led you over to the sofa inside of the room and sat down beside you, bringing you into his arms again as you began to cry against his chest.

"Shh, it's okay." His whispers, kissing the top of your head as he gently rubs his arms up and down your back,

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," He promised as you clung to him, your body trembling as you stared at the wall.

"He knew me...He knew my name, where to find me...What are we gonna do?" You whispered as you finally pulled back from his embrace, your eyes finding his as he closed his eyes for a second. His mind was flooded with thoughts, everything he wanted to do. The image of Rhysands cold, calculating eyes burned into his memory.

"I'll take care of it." his voice was steady despite his anger and you watched him closely. You'd never wanted to know what his plans were, since staying out of it was always better but this time you wanted to know what he planned.

"I promise, I won't let anything happen to you," He presses a kiss to your head as you cuddle into him. The fear of losing you twisted like a knife in his cut, he wasn't going to let Rhysand win.

"From now on, you're never alone. I'll have my best men watching you, protecting you. And I'll deal with that scumbag, I'll make sure he regrets ever even thinking of touching you." You nodded your head, your trust in him unwavering,

"Okay...Just be careful," you begged as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours softly.

"I promise." He whispered, holding your hand as you cuddled closer to him, your mind returning to that dark place where you saw Rhysand but Minho's was already coming up with a way to destroy him.

It had almost been a week since your run-in with Rhys and it was safe to say you were starting to feel exhausted from looking over your shoulder. Every moment you expected him to come for you, to break through your armed guards and do something but nothing ever happened.

You sat in the window of the hospital break room and stared down at the city. Ever since the encounter Minho had insisted on showing protection, assigning ten of his men to be with you at all times. It felt suffocating at times, everywhere you turned there were guards, outside your apartment, following you to work, even outside the hospital during your shifts. You knew Minho meant well but the constant presence of his men was a dreadful reminder as to why they were there. Sighing a little you began to make your way to go and see some of your patients, the guards following you closely.

"Can you get Minho here? Please," You begged as you stared down at one of his men, his eyes cold as he stared back at you, reaching for his phone and calling his boss instantly.

Minho made his way to the hospital, determined to see you after you'd practically begged his men to get him there. As he entered your office, he was met with a concerned look from you Patients were asking you to be taken off their cases and you were almost down to none.

“Min, this is too much,” you said softly, running your hands over your face.

“I can’t breathe with all these men around me all the time. I know you’re trying to keep me safe, but…” Minho crossed the room and took your hands in his, he knew it was probably too much but he couldn't breathe if it meant leaving you unprotected. The thought of something happening to you was clouding his mind and he couldn't focus on anything. Every night he went to sleep his mind was filled with nightmares about something happening to you.

“Baby, I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice filled with a desperation that mirrored his nightmares, images of you killed in a million different ways flashed in his mind.

“I keep seeing you in danger, and it’s driving me insane. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” You'd heard about his nightmares, you'd been there when he had them but it didn't make it easier for you. You squeezed his hands, your eyes softening.

“I know, Min. I know you’re scared. But this isn’t the way. We need to find a balance. I can’t live in fear, and neither can you.” Minho nodded, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady his thoughts. There had to be a space between 10 men watching you that he could use.

“You’re right. I just… I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” His face scrunched together and you reached up and cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. While you were terrified of Rhysand you couldn't live every day around so many men, you needed some space.

“We’ll figure it out together,” You said firmly, your eyes filled with promise as you watched him closely.

“But you have to trust that we can get through this. You can’t protect me from everything, babe. And that’s okay.” He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if to ward off the lingering fears from his nightmare.

“I love you, Yn,” he whispered into your hair, his arms tightening around you.

“I’ll find a way to make this right. I promise.” His men had been searching for Rhysand ever since the night he'd grabbed you but it was like he'd gone off the radar and disappeared completely.

"I'll find him and end this." He promises, his words said with such confidence you truly believe him.

The hospital was unusually quiet that night as you walked through the halls that night, you'd picked up extra shifts needing the money and you were starting to wish you hadn't. You moved through the dimly lit corridors, your footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. Most of the patients were asleep, and the usual hustle and bustle had settled into an eerie calm. Despite the quiet, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over you.

You made your way to the nurses' station, where a couple of your colleagues were finishing up paperwork as they glanced up at you. They exchanged tired smiles and small talk, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the past few days. Minho had reluctantly scaled back the number of guards at the hospital, allowing you some semblance of normalcy, but tonight you felt their absence acutely. You only had the one guard now who had gone out to go and get you something to eat, leaving you alone and unprotected.

"Yn, can you check on Mr Thompson in Room 312? He requested some water," one of the nurses asked as you tiredly nodded your head, trying to shake the uneasy feeling from you. The hospital was supposed to the a safe space, it wasn't as though Rhysand could walk right through the door.

"Sure, no problem," You whispered your reply forcing a smile as you picked up a water pitcher and a cup. You walked down the hallway, the lights flickering slightly as you passed not easing the feeling you had in the pit of your stomach. When you reached Room 312, you knocked gently before pushing the door open. The room was dimly lit, and for a moment, it seemed empty, the curtain was pulled around the bed inside of the room.

"Mr. Thompson?" You called out softly, stepping further inside frowning when you had no response. The door clicked shut behind you, and you spun around to find herself face-to-face with Rhysand. He stood by the door, his eyes cold and calculating, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

"Good evening, Yn," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and menacing. Your heart raced, fear gripping you as you instinctively stepped back, the water pitcher slipping from your hands and shattering on the floor, splashing up your legs and cutting your skin a little.

"What are you doing here?" You demanded, your voice trembling as you looked at him, fumbling behind you for the nurse's button. Rhysand merely smirked at you and took a step forward, his presence dominating the small room.

"I came to deliver a message," he said calmly.

"Minho seems to have misunderstood my previous warning. I thought a more personal touch might be necessary." Your mind raced, trying to think of a way out. You glanced towards the emergency call button on the wall, but Rhysand noticed and shook his head, tutting at you.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, his smile widening. "You see, I can be quite persuasive."

"What do you want?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady, you knew it wouldn't be long until your guard came back to find you missing and you prayed he'd find you quickly.

"I want Minho to understand that he cannot defy me without consequences," He replied, his tone darkening. "And you, my dear, are the perfect leverage." He reached his hand out, running his hand over your cheek and smirking down at you. You felt a wave of anger hit you.

"Minho will never give in to you," You said defiantly, your eyes burning into his. "You’re wasting your time."

"Call him," He says through gritted teeth, reaching for the knife in his pocket as he holds it up to your neck, way past the point of playing nice with you.

"I SAID CALL HIM!" He screamed, you flinched reaching for your phone in your pocket. Your hands shook as you dialled Minho's number, your stomach sinking as you felt the cold blade of the knife on your throat. It rang once, twice, and then his voice came through, filled with concern.

"Yn? Are you okay?" He asked, sensing your distress immediately.

"Minho, he's here. Rhysand is here and he's holding-," You were cut off by the cold knife,

"A knife to her pretty little throat, I suggest you get down here before I cut her into tiny little pieces, Minho." Was all Rhysand said before smashing your phone onto the wall, your eyes meeting Rhysands as you felt tears slipping from your eyes?

The hospital corridors were eerily silent as Minho hurried through them, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger, God it felt like it had taken him years to get here. Your frantic phone call still echoed in his mind, replaying in his mind over and over again.

As he neared the room where you had been. Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to stay focused. He moved quickly, silently, towards the room.

The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could see Rhysand standing inside, holding you against the wall with a knife to your throat. Your eyes were wide with terror, your breaths coming out in nothing but shallow gasps, Minho felt his stomach churn at the thought of you completely unprotected in there.

“Every time you try to leave, I’ll make sure you regret it,” Rhysand snarled, pressing the blade closer to your skin but not quite breaking it yet. Minho felt a cold fury rise within him. He couldn’t let this happen. He had to act quickly, decisively. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open with a swift kick, his gun drawn and aimed at Rhysand who tightened his hold on you.

“Let her go, Rhysand,” Minho ordered, his voice deadly calm as he stared over at you both, his eyes flicking over at you to make sure you were okay. Rhysand glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he saw Minho.

“Ah, Minho!” he said with a twisted smile, your stomach twisting as you glanced to see your boyfriend holding the gun.

“Just in time. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.”

“Step away from her,” Minho growled, taking a step forward.

“Now.” Rhysand grip on the knife tightened, and he pressed it harder against your throat, making you wince and let out a small whimper, pleading with Minho to help you.

“One more step, and she dies,” he warned. “Do you really want to test me?” He growled out. Minho's eyes flicked to yours, filled with fear and pleading with him. He had to be careful, and precise.

“You won’t get out of here alive if you hurt her,” He said, his voice low and threatening, if he killed you Minho would torture him, painfully, dragging it on for weeks.

“Think about it, Rhysand. There’s no escape for you.” Rhysand only laughed a cold, bitter sound.

“You think I care about escape? This is about making you suffer. Watching you lose the one thing you care about.” He said as he traced the knife over your face, a small cut forming on the left side of your cheek as he smirked. Minho's hand tightened around his gun.

“Yn, close your eyes,” he said softly. your eyes widened as you realised what he was going to do, you had complete faith in him but it didn't stop you from being scared. Slowly you closed your eyes, your body trembling.

In one swift motion, Minho fired his gun. The shot echoed loudly in the small room making your head pulse and your heart beat rapidly. Rhysand staggered back, a look of shock on his face as he dropped the knife, you heard the clatter and kicked it away from you, turning to see Rhysand. He clutched his chest where the bullet had hit, blood spreading rapidly across his shirt. The nurse inside of you wanted to reach out but you remembered what he'd done to you and Minho. Minho rushed forward, catching you as you stumbled away from Rhysand. He held you tightly, his heart pounding with relief.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s over.” He whispered, cradling you closer to him. Rhysand fell to the floor, gasping for breath. His eyes met Minho's one last time, filled with hatred and disbelief.

“You…you’ll never be safe,” he choked out before the light faded from his eyes. Minho didn’t even spare him another glance. All his attention was on you, as you shook in his arms.

“Are you okay?!" He panicked, running his fingers over the small cut on your cheek, you leant into his touch and whimpered,

"I was so scared, Minho. I thought... I thought he was going to—" You couldn't get the words out as bile rushed to your throat, Minho wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

"Shh, it's over," He murmured, stroking her back softly, his heart racing.

"He can’t hurt you anymore. I promise you’re safe now." He held you close to him, feeling the tension slowly drain from your body as you cried against him. The fear that had gripped him since Rhysand's first threat began to fade, replaced by a fierce determination to protect you at all costs. There was no chance he was going to let anything happen to you ever again.

Minho guided you out of the room, keeping you close as they made their way through the hospital. His men were already moving through the building, ensuring there were no more threats but you couldn't take your eyes off Minho.

As you reached the entrance, he turned to his most trusted lieutenant, Changbin.

“Get Yn home, and make sure she’s safe,” he ordered. “I have some things to wrap up here.” He glanced back at the hospital and Changbin nodded but you hadn't moved yet. Your arm was still wrapped with Minho's

“Min, please be careful,” You said softly, almost too scared to be away from him again but he nodded his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead,.

“I will be,” He promised. “I’ll see you at home.” He whispered before Chagnbin led you back to the car.

A Year Later*

The early morning sun filtered through the curtains, making you stir and whimper a little in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. For a moment, you simply lay there, savouring the peace and quiet. It had been a long journey to reach this point. But a gentle kiss on your forehead made you smile. You turned to see Minho lying beside you,

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice soft and tender, as you cuddled into his chest.

"Good morning," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness.

"Do you have to go into the office today?" You asked, snuggling closer to him not wanting him to leave you alone again. Minho chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek,

"Not today. Today, I'm all yours." Your smile widened. The two of you had both worked hard to carve out moments like these, moments of normalcy and peace. You'd quit working at the hospital after the incident and mostly stayed at home, patching up any of his men who needed some help with wounds.

"I was thinking," Minho said, his tone becoming more serious. "Maybe it's time we took that trip we’ve been talking about. Just the two of us. Somewhere far away from all of this." He gestured around his room and your eyes widened a little

"Where were you thinking?" You ask, cuddling into him as you both begin to dream of your holiday destination, just enjoying the calm of being together.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[neonmoonster]

“Of course I didn’t want you!”

Anakin recoiled like he had been slapped.

The anger he had felt only moments before towards the man in front of him dissipated and reformed into the keenest hurt he had ever experienced.

He had known this, of course—had known it forever, and he had prepared himself for the day the truth finally came out, building walls around his heart and forcing distance between himself and Obi-Wan for this very inevitability—but actually hearing it, actually hearing Obi-Wan say those words aloud? 

Nothing could have prepared Anakin for this moment.

I didn’t want you. 

Obi-Wan was still talking, ranting, but his words seemed far away, distant, like he was standing at the end of a tunnel, miles away from Anakin, who felt lightheaded, unsteady on his feet.

“—ster had just died, the Sith were back, and here was this boy,” Obi-Wan’s voice, tight and forceful, floated in and out of the air, “This boy for whom my master discarded me without a second thought, this boy, who was now my responsibility to raise and train.”

Anakin couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see the resentment in the set of his mouth, the long-buried hatred in the furrow of his brow. 

“My responsibility—me, a barely knighted Jedi, practically a padawan myself.”

Obi-Wan let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, a sharp edge to it that sliced Anakin to his core.

“I could barely take care of myself in the days after Qui-Gon died, let alone another human being. And now I had the duty to fulfill my master’s dying wish to train this boy on the off-chance that he would save the galaxy.” 

Do not cry.

Anakin willed himself to keep looking down, to stay impassive, to not raise Obi-Wan’s ire higher than it already was. If he betrayed how much these words cut him, how deep a wound they inflicted on his heart, then the magnitude of his attachment would be revealed, and that would only make Obi-Wan hate him more. 

And Anakin didn’t think he could take any more of Obi-Wan’s hate.

Do not cry.

He heard Obi-Wan take a steadying breath, audibly reigning himself in. When he spoke next, his voice was softer, yet reverberated through Anakin's mind as if he had screamed them.

“So, no. I did not want you.” 

He sensed Obi-Wan, his accursed, beloved former master, take a step towards him. Anakin stilled, a horrible thought overtaking him.

Would he strike him? Obi-Wan had never—would never—but he had also never said anything like this out loud to Anakin before. He had finally crossed the line.

Done the un-take-back-able.

Anakin had always walked a thin line with Obi-Wan, pushing and prodding, bringing out Obi-Wan’s frustration, his rolled eyes, dry jabs, and sometimes disappointed frown, but he had somehow avoided tipping the scales all the way over—at least, not until now.

Now, when he had finally pushed too far. 

Fuck. 

Do not cry. Do not cry—

A hand fell on his shoulder. It took everything in Anakin not to flinch.

“But don’t you ever think,” Obi-Wan said, the fierce passion back in his voice and Anakin’s stomach sank, sank sank. “Not even for one second, that you were not the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

Anakin’s head snapped up in shock. The very thing he had wanted to avoid doing at all costs, but surely he had misheard, surely Obi-Wan had not just said what he just said—

“You are the best friend I have ever had,” Obi-Wan said, and there was still that hard edge to his words, but now that Anakin was looking at him, he saw that his master's eyes were not filled with anger-hate-bitterness like he had feared, but simple determination.

A serious expression, but one that was interlaced with a gentleness that Anakin could only describe as fond.

“It has been… the honor and delight of my life to teach you,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin couldn’t move because the truth of it was ringing in the Force, unmistakable and passionate and firm. “And now to fight and live beside you as equals.”

Was Anakin dreaming?

A flicker of a smile crossed Obi-Wan’s face, like he was lost in remembrance and, oh, Anakin’s heart couldn’t take it, couldn’t handle this emotional whiplash, his greatest fear and most secret hope come to life over the course of a single conversation.

“It only took you about a day and a half to win me over. I was petrified every day that I would mess you up, leave you worse than I found you, let you down, Qui-Gon down, the galaxy down—but not once did I regret you. Not once would I have traded you away from anything.”

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s shoulder and Anakin shuddered, letting out a choked whimper that he immediately wished he could take back, but Obi-Wan’s eyes softened, and through their bond Anakin could only feel kindness, affection, maybe even—

Obi-Wan's expression shifted once more, for the first time his steadiness in the force wavering, and he swallowed, appearing nervous, if Anakin didn't know any better.

"I do not always find it easy to express myself with words, like this. It is... difficult for me. But it appears that it is necessary today."

Anakin stared at him helplessly.

“I am unbearably sorry that I have ever made you believe otherwise. That you could ever think that you are not my favorite person in the world.”

Anakin could not stop the tear from falling down his cheek. And Obi-Wan Kenobi, high general of the Republic Army, one of the strongest, most respected masters in the Jedi Order, and Anakin's former teacher, gently caught it with the pad of his thumb and wiped it away.

"You are," Obi-Wan's voice came out rough and tinged with something that made Anakin's breath catch in his throat. But then just as quickly, Obi-Wan gave him a small smile, his voice clear once more, even dry and teasing.

“I hope that's alright with you.”

Anakin's answering smile was watery, but it could have lit up the entire galaxy anyhow.

[yubiina]

Imagine taking care of post war Levi.

After the war is over, everyone distant from one another, Armin along with his team travel to teach the history and prevent from it repeating, Historia remains in Paradis as queen with her newborn child, some stay in Marley after the war because everything is so destroyed, some choose to go back to Paradis.

Imagine being the only one left from Levi's close squad. Sure, it might have started out rought with him (as does everybody), but you have been there through it all, hand-picked to be in his squad as one of the best soldiers for your skill and wits.

After the war he loses it all, the soldiers he's raised are building their lives and him-with nowhere to go, no place that he calls home that could miss him- you step in and tell Gabi you will be his caretaker, even if Levi protests at first.

It just dosen't seem fair, others out there are enjoying the freedom they fought so hard for, getting married, building their lives and you're stuck here, taking care of an old man that can only walk a short amount of time before needing a wheelchair, and sometimes struggles to do simple tasks.

"I got it, it's fine" he grumbles as you hold him by the arm and gently place him in the wheelchair as he groans in pain, ignoring his previous comment.

But despite what he thinks, you know deep down it's much deeper than that, it isn't just some loyal habit of carrying your duty to take care of your capitan, but rather a selfish need your heart has to keep him close, you who has no home yourself- have found a palace in his presence.

You wonder if all the things you do have caught up to Levi, to others around him - you were appearantly terrible at hiding your feelings, but mabye all that you did was all but a simple and kind act to Levi.

You wake up early every morning to prepare breakfast, making sure to shop well the previous day in order to feed him a full and loving meal. You clean more than usual, keeping him out of the house and occupied in the garden so the dust won't make him sick, even taking him to the café every morning with his newspaper in hand, a ritual you both effortlessly created with time.

Every weekend you go to buy flowers with Levi, and leave them at the memorial of fallen soldiers, his wheelchair sitting not far behind the engraved stone of his fallen comrade, as you helped him bent down and place them on the cold stone.

'(Hange Zoe) 14th Comander of the Scout Regiment'

Ever since the war ended you had picked up the hobby of baking, you always knew you had a good hand, even during your time with the scouts, where all that was available was potato, bread and some dirty carrots, you managed to make a hearty meal.

Now you bake as your heart desires, making cookies, pies and pastries that Onyakopon,Gabi and Falco enjoy too much when you head out with Levi and everyone for a picnic. And while everyone thanks you and enjoys what your hands made, you don't have the heart to tell anyone that you bake them for Levi, but give it to everyone as to mask your gesture.

It was obvious to Gabi, when you place the picnic basket on the blanket under the tree, and take out all the sandwiches and pastries you've done. You take out a glass for each for the fresh lemonade you've made, and then a special thermos of black tea and pour it for Levi.

It was obvious to Falco when you personally started buying basic medical supplies like needles, alcohol, medication, and gauze because you wanted to take care of Levi personally, after the doctor might have tired him out with walking practice.

It was obvious to Onyakopon, when he kept seeing your regularly at the fabric shop, buying the same white wool. Only to see that white wool turned into a long, soft scraf placed next to a beautiful teaset, packaged well for the Secret Santa they did for Levi's birthday.

But mabye Levi noticed too. He noticed the black tea especially made for him, and the fact that you always placed two pastries in his plate instead of one like the others.

He noticed how gentle your fingers were when they grazes his scars and lifted his leg to tend to it, as if you had found a bird with an injured wing by the window.

He noticed the suttle, but engulfing perfume scent on the new white scarf, and your taste in style when he saw the teaset. He noticed through the slightly open door, tne candlelight that came from the living room when he tried to sleep, and your prickleled hands from the sharp knitting needles.

It is then that he gets up, from his chair, paper crumpled in hand as he reaches for the telephone on the countertop to call for Gabi.

"Where is she" ignoring the fast beating of his heart that wanted to leap out of his chest.

Imagine that after all this time, you figure you need to move on, you tell Gabi you've finished working, and refuse any payment they want to give you as compensation for taking care of a retired soldier. Unable to bear with yourself anymore, after rejecting every man that made any advance, unable to look in the mirror and see someone that he could love. You grab a pen and write a final letter, leaving early in the morning for the next train to take you far away.

Imagine how you close your eyes and sigh at the view of the oncoming train, ready to steal you away, yet your legs felt heavy, and your mind waged war against you to remain unmoved.

It's only when you take the first step that you stop, you don't know if you felt his presence first, or if it was his voice, but a strong wind blew your hair away as you kept your hand near your dress to keep it down, turning your head to see him.

He stood there, stormy eyes glued on you like a target, his wheelchair a few feet away behind him. In almost a shock and slight alert you take a few steps, afraid he'll need support.

"I thought you said you were a woman of your word, what about your promise?" You admire his stable tone in what seems like such an emotional moment to him

But you hate that you know exactly what he means, you remember it very well since back then, when everyone retreated for the night and camped in the dense forest during a mission outside the walls, you stood near a lake, washing your hands and face, thr only light source being groups of fireflies that shyly flew around bushes and near water.

Levi stands right behind you, deep in thought for whatever reason he was, you call him out when feeling his eyes burn the back of your skull.

"You know you don't have to be creep" you quietly say, focused on washing the cloth in your hands, and he slowly walks near a rock.

It is then that you made a promise to him. That you promised you would not die and stand beside him as long as be lived. It was an admirable obedience and trust from a soldier towards their capitan.

"Don't tell me it dosent matter as much to you now" he bring you back to reality.

"I fufilled it didn't I? I lived and stood beside you" you almost argue back.

"And I'm still alive." He steps foward slightly, using the metal railing that slightly shook as support.

"You fufilled your promise as a soldier and i did my duty as you capitan" he now stands in front of you, it's only when you notice the crumbled up letter in his hand.

"Now let me fufill my duty as a man"

The train swooshes past you, swaying leaves in the wind and onto the sunset, with a loud honk it continued to pass on your side, but your focus was long gone as his lips remained unmoved from yours. It was that day that despite any gear training and how far on a tree you've climbed, it felt like this moment was the highest you've ever flown.

It was from then on that when you helped him to bed, he'd tuck your hair away in the morning, with a strand between his fingers until you pretended you were slowly waking up.

It was now that once you finished cooking, you'd notice Levi place a second cup of tea on the table, before sitting back down to continue his book.

It was then that he'd go and buy the flowers for the memorial, making sure to get a extra bouquet to bring home to you.

It was then that whenever anyone asked him to stay for a celebration of after party, he'd simply say no and leave.

"My wife is waiting for me at home" he says with no ring on neither of your fingers yet.

It was then that he'd feel his ego boost a bit whenever you laughed out loud at one of his unfunny shit jokes.

It is then that he notices the contrast between the feeling of you pushing your hands on his chest to keep the blood from leaving the deadly wound, to placing them gently on his chest as you rest in the afterglow of a playful afternoon.

After all, it is when you both sit close under the shade of a tree, you watch Gabi and Falco mess around in the lake-dunking one another as you reminisce a time where you swear you've seen this happen before, Levi's hand that brushed a book page, unknowingly falls on top of yours, yet it dosen't move.

Imagine it is then, when he looks up at you, that he realizes he truly-like you- may have not had a place to call home, had somehow found heaven in you.

[liaswills]

Pick a card: A message from your past life self! 🪦🗡

Hello darlings! Today I bring you another pick a card- I felt the need to bring out some messages. The energy today is very much revolving around death- and it's relatively natural relation to life. So today I will bring you a pick a card- with a message of what your past self would tell you! Naturally this is a general message so take whatever resonates. All the love, Elias!

Pick a pile from 1, 2, 3 or 4!

Hello, my dear self. Some day you have wondered who you are- who you should become. But I want you to know that no matter whom you try to be- or whom you'll grow to believe says the right thing- it'll always be me whom you will come back to. I'm not scary. I'm you. I like to brace the horizon- with a smile and breathe in the morning air. I'm a morning person. I used to hunt birds- for food. And... truthfully- my life was never that long. I didn't get to experience my childhood as something I cherished. This is why you're not very good with people. I'm sorry that in this life- you too- struggle with being around crowds. You do- try to. Which is more than I ever did. I was more one with animals- nature- it's why... I never really got to be together with someone. Because I spent my life alone- you might feel like everyone hates you. Or suffer from anxiety everytime you try to make a friend- with your friends- or even the people you try to date or love. I'm sorry that this part of me- lingers- but no matter how it has manifested, it is what I desired most. Sometimes lives are so crowded that you just need one where you're by yourself. I did that already. You don't need to follow my example- because I want for you to flourish and be a butterfly. To do what I haven't. To be brave. To be bold. To dare. Dream. I know you think you're alone sometimes- but you're not! The spirits of all the animals I've taken care of- protect you still! It's amazing how loyal animals are. Yes- even your last pet. I know we have a special connection to animals- I know that we sometimes feel like they understand us- feel our energy- they do- but they won't create a depth in our emotional maturity and balance much like dramatic human relationships do. If you know me- you'd wish to have a life in social circles too. It wasn't fun. And I want to brace you to feel safe. To try and feel joy. To feel happiness. Try and do it when you can. Because that- will help me- and all of us before us. I'll be here to hug you. Because I'm your greatest supporter.

Forgiveness, is what it takes. Forgive me. Forgive yourself. I'm not like you- nothing like you at all. I was vain. And cruel. And unkind. I didn't see what you see. I didn't- I couldn't. I couldn't see how people were able to be the exact same as the other- i couldn't see how every life was worth living. I killed for things. I cheated in life. I climbed the social ladders and I hurt my hands doing so. I really fell. I fell in the end and it was my ending. I didn't have a long life- because when I was found out- everything I worked for, was done for. I wanted to become better. I needed to be a better self. You don't. You don't need to do this. If you continue down this road- if you continue to try and improve- it won't make you happy. It won't make me happy either. I think it's time for us to forgive ourselves. Because sooner than later- we are all that we have. I've known this too late. Very late. You need to start appreciating the things you do have. The money you do have. The family you live with. The country you're in. The name you have been given. Consider it all. You're almost there- you're almost free of this crude self torture. Just one more step- release this attachment. Release your ideas of how things should be. Please allow yourself to just be. To just trust in me. To trust in you. In us. Trust that we can do it. That we can do whatever we set our minds to. You've inherited my determination- don't spoil it with waivering in uneasyness. Don't spoil my end- for your life to be worse than mine. Don't befriend toxic people. Don't walk towards the red flags. I need you to see. See whom you're talking to. See whom you share your mind with. See what you think of without your phone for an hour. I need you to feel yourself- to love yourself- to feel our own world is more than what you think it is and could be. Forgive me- I was never from your world- but I was the you- you needed to become whom you are now. Forgive me. I'm sorry.

We aren't the same gender. I had to start with that. I've led a completely different existence based on my social norms and whom I was raised to become. If you're a fem energy- then I used to embody masculine. And vice versa. You might feel lingering touches of me- in the way that you can embody both energies. I want to say- I'm congratulating you- because I never dared or could. I lived very rigid. In a rigid place where I was expectant to preform a role in life. To be a provider- or a caretaker. I simply obeyed that life. I simply followed the norms. I don't want you to follow any norms other than your own. I fought bravely- I died gloriously- in battle- with a strong heart or perhaps not so strong considering it caved. I loved- I loved big. You inherited this. I loved my friends. My family. I even...loved another whom I couldn't be with. That longing for someone- I owe to you to release. I didn't really got the closure I needed. I didn't really tell this person- that my heart was theirs. And theirs alone. Yes- I've had children. I've done my duty- as was expected of me, but i didn't love my partner the way I loved this star crossed romantic ideal. It was an ideal. I never got to know them personally. It didn't matter. I liked to imagine what they would be like- and somehow that image of them was enough for me. I see you- I feel you, and your life is already so much more vibrant than mine. Thankyou! I truly- honestly, can say thank you. For being authentic- for truly honouring your own feelings. It doesn't matter what you become- or whom you'll chase- in the end, you've already done what you came here to do. For me- anyway. I think you're amazing. And you inspire me- and others, so much. So so so so so much. That truthfully- you should show yourself. To everyone. Haha. It isn't scary- remember your brothers- sisters- whom fought alongside you in the trenches- whom fought with you day and night to remain sovereign- to remain equal- to gain prowess and our voice back. Hang on Soldier- you have a long road to go. It'll be glorious- I can tell you that. From my point of view- your paving the way to a dream. I'll talk to you- in my mind- my world- my time- I talk to myself often actually, haha- but you will sometimes get more from talking to me too. Just... call me a friend you once were. And I'll be a friend to you too. It'll help greatly- I am indebted to you as much. Don't worry if you're not going to do it- I'm just here to give you the inspiration you need to get out there and flourish your shiny little way around the globe.

My funny Valentine.... sweet comic valentine....you make me smile, with my heart. Listen to "My funny valentine" by Chat Baker or Frank Sinatra, because I am giving you this song as I look upon you darling. I know sometimes we don't truly like ourselves. But you don't need to become someone else to love whom you truly are. Because you already do- trust me- the whole of you- all of us- all of your lives- we love you as you are and will continue to do so fiercely. Honestly- we were wild. I was wild. Haha. I was a bit freakishly in love with everyone. Gradually- that changed a little into a more tamed version of loving and being. But you inherited a spark of love for loving. Maybe... still a little unfooted- but, priceless either way. Truly- priceless to see. I know you think some things are scaring you- but they aren't truthful. It isn't real. It's hard to have trust in that but just trust me. Trust you. I am nothing but a charmy and flourishing lovely cottonball. Haha- joking! But we all are a little vixenous sometimes, right? Perhaps you will see me when we go out, that I enter your mind more and you become more me than I become you. Channel the spirit of the sex! Baby! Who did you think you were!? Don't say you're ashamed... I was truly... a heartbreaker but I am kind? That counts for something right. Hmmmm, what to tell you. I haven't really got a message for you. To be honest I think we're currently on our recreational life. Just do whatever you want dearie. I've got no problem with it. But... do tell your mother something like- love you, when you leave. I know! People, right!? Strange creatures. But you will come to know the greatest of people. The biggest. Bestest. Friends. Ever. Haha- woooooo! I am excited already for you. Anyway- lovely for you to think of me- I always imagined myself to be a celebrity in your life so who knows!? Did we.... do it? Oh who knows! Maybe that's just a fantasy. But romantizing life is what we're made for so- go ahead. Think and imagine and write away. Poetry is lovely. I find you adorable. And if you continue- we might find some treasures along the way.

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Happy Kinktober, dears! 🎃👀

I've been wanting to write something with Pirate Captain Alcina again for awhile now and what better time than to kick off our favorite month! 😌 This fic takes place in the same universe as my other Captain Alcina fics and includes my OC Rynn Lancaster as Reader 👀 I do hope some of you will enjoy!

TW: Degradation

Word count: 3,200

The soft creak of weathered wood against leathered boots as you took a step onto the bow of the Bloody Maiden. It was long past the hours that your Captain and current lover usually came to lie next to you in your quarters, and you were more than certain you knew exactly where you’d find her. She had a usual spot - when solemn nights made the Captain’s mind begin to wander further than she’d like, frolicking through past memories of both good and bad. So, just as you'd done many times before, you followed the trail of slickened moonlight up the slightly rotted boards and headed towards the front of the ship. Finding Alcina’s ravened hair shimmering in the dark as if it were a sky of velvet.

Her face looked tired, pensive - though it still shined brighter than any gem within any bounty you could come across. You walked softly so as not to startle her, doing your best to not disrupt her mullings. In all honesty, though, you’d be content just to stand there - with the smell of the ocean breeze upon the wind and her beauty in your eyes - for the rest of the evening.

“You're not as quiet as you think, my dear.”

Her voice was light and playful as she spoke, but you could see the weight of the world in her eyes.

“Pshh.. Whaat? I'm as quiet as a mouse, my dear Captain.” You quipped back, bowing flamboyantly.

She chuckled in a way that made your heart warm over. “Are you now? Is that why I heard you the moment you ascended the stairs?”

You stuck out your tongue at her just slightly and walked over.

“I'd say that has more to do with your innate abilities as a Captain than my lack of skills.”

She caught your smirk and smirked in turn, turning slightly from her position at the hull.

“Mh.. perhaps.”

She gave you a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and turned them back to the ocean ahead, a soft melody upon her lips that was dipped in melancholy. The dark waves always a mirror of what life as a pirate was truly like. The ups and downs - the ebb and flow. Of course there were always good times to be had, but more often than not, a Captain’s life was a solitary life. Especially for someone like Alcina. And while you wished sometimes that she’d spend more time with the crew, you understood her need for boundaries. And you always respected them.

You walked a little closer to her and laid your arms across the wood of the railing, breathing in the fresh night air.

“What's on your mind, Cap’n?” You asked.

The soft touch of your fingers on hers brought a smile to her lips as she looked over at you.

“Have I ever mentioned that you know me entirely too well for my own liking, Rynn Lancaster?” She smirked.

“Nope.” You replied, shaking your head with fervor. “Never.”

She laughed and took your hand in hers, sighing.

“It would be true to say that both nothing and everything is currently on my mind, pet.”

“Ah, one of those nights.”

“Mh.” She hummed in thought, eyes trailing back to the shoreline.

“Would you care for a distraction then?”

Her eyes flickered back to you, looking almost metallic in the shift.

“Depends. What sort?” Alcina inquired.

“Hmmm.. Captain's choice.”

A glint of crimson in the moonlight as a shark-like grin curled across her lips.

“A rather dangerous choice.”

“I can take it.”

“Mmh, indeed you can.”

“I-” You felt your face heat up fiercely as you stammered and let out a breath. The feared pirate Captain only chuckled, her strong arm coming around your hips to pull you closer.

“You are rather cute when you fluster, dear.”

“Rude. I don't fluster, I just momentarily forget how to speak.”

“Mhm.. and that blush upon your cheeks?”

“Merely a side effect from the moonlight.”

“Ah.”

Alcina chuckled again and pulled you a little closer, her warmth quickly enveloping you. It was moments like these that always reminded you just how privileged you were to see this side of her. Alcina Dimitrescu, feared Captain of the Bloody Maiden and renowned Countess of the Seven Seas. There wasn't a pirate alive that hadn't at least heard of her. She was a legend - known for her innate intuition and expert pillaging. As well as her bloodthirst.

But you, you were gifted with a whole different side of her. A softer side. A side that very few had ever had the chance to witness. Save for her daughters, of course. And maybe Sal.

You looked over at her, her dark beauty brought alive by the nestling of stars behind her and the moonlight that shone so brightly. Her breath calm and calculated, causing a soft rise and fall to her .. very well endowed bosom. The crimson shirt that hugged her in the most exquisite ways was buttoned in a most perfect way - leaving very little to the imagination. She was wearing your favorite corset, a fact that made you hum out loud.

“Thoughts wandering, pet?”

“Hm? Me? I.. no. Of course, not. Never.”

Alcina turned again in your direction, her arm still wrapped firmly around your hips and she leaned back against the railing of the ship. The simple trailing of her fingers down her sternum made your face heat up even more.

“Hm.. pity.” She smirked, lips shimmering in the dark.

You swallowed again, this time turning to face her as well.

“So, uh.. about that distraction..?”

Alcina chuckled and shook her head. “Mhm.. just as I thought. Needy.”

“For you? Alwa-”

The pirate’s hand came abruptly around your throat and pulled you towards her - her lips suddenly pressed warmly against yours. A soft moan lost within the kiss as you melted into it. The grip on her neck was both firm and tender with the smallest amount of pressure on your windpipe.

You felt dizzy when she finally let you go, smiling in a way that you were sure was slightly embarrassing.

“Well, that was unfair…”

“Was it?”

You gave her a single nod and leaned in closer, pressing your body into hers. A raised eyebrow in your direction and a look that told you that you were obviously playing with fire.

But you didn't care.

Not in the least.

You could take it, after all.

“Captain's choice, hm?” She smirked.

“Yep. I am, as they say,��at your service.” You replied with a wink.

She grabbed your throat again, making you whimper. A simple kiss upon your forehead before she forced you down onto your knees, your back against the railing.

“Very well.”

Alcina rose to her full height before you, casting you in the dark shadow, her large frame fully blocking out the moonlight. Her gaze luminous, playful, flickering with delight as she unsheathed her sword before her fingers came to undo her belt buckle. You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

“Ah.. Captain.. should we.. maybe take this back to our quarters?”

Alcina clicked her tongue as she continued to undress.

“Nonsense. The only person fool enough to come looking for me this late at night is you, my dear. Plus..” She replied with a smirk, dropping the last of her undergarments to the floor and rested one of her legs upon the height of the railing next to you - her exquisite folds glistening with want before you.

You licked your lips and let out a shaky breath. The headiness of her musk already floating upon the ocean air.

“I- .. y-yes.. ah.. you make a very good point, Captain. A very good point indeed.”

“Mhm.. now, get to work.”

Alcina’s large hand came to the back of your head as she pulled you into her. Moaning at the first taste you scooted yourself even closer and wrapped your arms around her thighs. Gods, she tasted divine - intoxicating. Like a cold ale after a particularly long haul - you just couldn't get enough. Not of her. Not of the way she tasted. Felt. Enveloped the entirety of your mouth as you drank her in.

She moaned each time you elongated your tongue into her - her back slightly arched, giving you more. The soft caresses through your hair quickly turning to subtle, rough tugs the higher you coaxed her. If your Captain were an instrument, you had learned exactly where to play her. Where to taste her. Where to keep your tongue playing over to an all too forgotten tune.

And you didn't stop when she began to buck her hips into you. Nor when she dug her nails into your scalp. You only licked harder. Sucked mercilessly. Holding her in place just firm enough to keep her exactly where you wanted her.

That was until her pleasure finally peaked and her desire poured warmly into your mouth - over your lips - giving you maybe a minute to drink in the rest of her before she had you by the throat again. She lifted you to your feet - your face slick with her desire. A swift look of her surroundings and the Captain gave you a smirk, hand falling from your throat.

“Turn around.”

“Ahm-”

“Do as I say.”

Shuddering at her firm command you quickly turned around.

“Hands on the railing.”

You placed your hands upon the weathered wood and waited. Patiently. Obediently. Knowing whatever Alcina had in mind would surely be worth it. And when your eyes caught her subtle, swift movement - large hands reaching towards the pile of rope next to her - you swallowed.

“Any objections?” She smirked, loosely holding the strand of woven twine in the moonlight.

“Objections? M-me? Never.” You scoffed, swaying your hips teasingly from side to side.

“Mhm.”

Her stride was one of an experienced hunter - purposeful, dangerous. Wearing nothing but a partially unbuttoned collared shirt over her corset and a sinful smirk as she walked back over to you. Her alabaster skin made a mockery of the silvered moon above. The ship around you slightly rocked and the ocean breeze blew through your gingered hair. With such experienced fingers Alcina had your wrists bound to the railing in a matter of minutes, the rope firm against your flesh.

“Comfortable?”

You smirked, choosing yet again to play with fire.

“The most feared Pirate of the Seven Seas, going out of there to make sure little ol’ me is comfy?”

You caught about a glimmer of crimson before Alcina's hands were on your hips. A swift tug to pull you into position before her fingers came to the hemline of your underwear ( luckily for you, you never slept in pants ).

“Seems it may be time for me to remind you just what that mouth of yours is best used for.”

“Hmm.. my poetry and humorous quips?”

“No.” She practically growled as she ripped the simple fabric from your body, her large frame leaning in - ravened curls tickling the side of your ear. “You moaning my name.”

“F-fuck.” You shuddered. You both loved and hated how easily she could turn you on. With a simple firm tone and a pull at your hips. You were already wet enough to feel the cool night air between your legs, the measure of your arousal prevalent.

“Spread your legs.” She half growled again, making you whimper. “Do it.”

You felt a hand come around your throat from the back and you immediately obeyed, spreading your legs wider for her.

“That's a good whore.”

Her words were sickly sweet, making your body hot all over. It was a deep heat that resonated from the top of your head and landed directly in your core. You cried out in earnest when you felt her palm make contact with your skin, striking your ass with a sting. Followed by a desperate moan falling from your lips and a gasp as she grabbed your hips again.

“Please…” You whimpered.

“Please, what?”

It was clear by the smug look on Alcina's face that she was enjoying this. You, needy. Already desperate and pleading for her.

“Please, fuck me. Fuck.”

The pirate snorted, fingers gently tracing the outskirts of your core. “With that mouth?”

“You can do anything you want with this mouth, just fuck me.”

You were about the smirk in her direction when another strike landed across your backside, bringing an immediate heat to your cheeks. You whimpered, quite pathetically, and begged again.

“Please.”

With her other hand still firm around your throat you felt her enter you - one finger at first and then another, slowly stretching you out. Your hands bound in such a way that it left you completely at her mercy - entirely helpless.

Exactly how she wanted you.

“M-more. Please.”

She slid her fingers from your core and then drove them back in again, forcing you to bite your lip.

“Patience.”

The pirate paid no mind to your needy pleas, or how you squirmed against her. Her fingers both filling you and leaving you wanting more with each thrust. With each curl of her fingers there was only one thing you wanted. Needed.

“More.” You tried again.

Though, even as she picked up her speed it still wasn't enough. You feared it would never be enough. You yearned to be completely filled by her in every way. How you wished in that moment to be back in your quarters, with your chest of toys nearby and at your disposal. You whimpered as she continued to tease you. Her slow and languid thrusts only making you all the more needy, while your core ached for more.

“Please.” You begged again without shame, forcing your hips back into her.

“Impatient wench.” She hissed, the hand around your throat growing tighter. You swallowed against her palm and whimpered.

“Please, Mistress.”

You felt her fingers flinch inside of you before they slid out. A single second of aching emptiness before she rammed them back into you, finally adding another. The stretch was exquisite, delicious. A perfect mesh of pleasure and pain that sent an all encompassing heat across your body. Fuck, you felt so good. So full. Your core throbbing around the width of her.

“Ah- .. th-thank you, Mistress.”

She growled at the term, curling her fingers deep inside you once again. Your entire self was in her grasp. Wrists bound, hand around your neck. Her large frame caging you in as she held you in place. Each thrust followed immediately by another. Slow and deep. Fast and hard. Shifting each time she felt your pleasure start to peak, with your moans growing louder and a tremble across your legs. The cool ocean air blew against your fevered flesh, making you shiver all the same.

“Please. Let me cu-”

“You'll come when I say so, pet.”

She placed a tender kiss to the back of your neck and slowed her pace even more, her fingers curling deep within you. Your legs began to shake with need, each thrust matched with an equally needy whimper. You were soaked - dripping - your arousal coating her fingers and the inside of your inner thighs. You may have pleaded again, or it may have just been another whimper, your mind was too fogged over to tell. You did your best to slam your hips back into her and this time she didn't stop you. Instead her fingers came to tighten around your neck again as she abruptly picked up her speed.

“F-fuck.”

Your pleasure swiftly built, heating up your whole body. A prickling heat that crept across you like the mist upon an open sea. It was unhindered - unbearable, even - with your hips jerking and bucking back into her.

“F-fuck.. please. Please let me come.” You whined, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes.

Alcina chuckled, pulling your neck back just far enough to make eye contact with you.

“Come, then. Now.”

With that, she drove her fingers into you with unrelenting speed and you screamed out right. A violent shake across your body as it immediately, and without question, obeyed. The world around you blacked out by pleasure, replacing the Bloody Maiden with fireworks and the feeling of absolute bliss. You felt every part of you convulse as your orgasm ripped through you, body still held in place by Alcina's strong grip. Your breath quickened against the palm of her hand, flesh damp against her skin. Subtle shudders meeting each pump of her fingers as you rode out your high.

For a moment you couldn't move. Not even when she slowly removed her fingers from your core and brought them to your lips.

“Clean them.”

And you did, eagerly - even if half conscious with your legs trembling. Your tongue swirled around her fingers at your taste. And Alcina hummed, content, once you’d finished and placed a soft kiss to your temple before freeing your wrists from the railing.

“Think you can you walk?” She asked, looking over your wrists for any signs of of rope burns. And even with the smug tone to her voice, you knew she was genuinely asking.

“Nope. Pretty sure.. I'll never walk again. You’ll just have to.. carry me from here on out.” You joked between breaths, making the pirate chuckle.

*Mmh.. we’ll see. Take a moment and rest before trying.”

Alcina left you to breathe while she dressed. Her fair skin, dampened with sweat, luminous in the bright moonlight - the moon now high, stood directly above you. If you'd had a little more mental clarity, you'd have opened your mouth and told her how devastatingly beautiful she was, but the best you could do was hold yourself up and wait for your legs to stop shaking.

Which, eventually, they did.

“Well? Think you can make it?”

You chuckled as you straightened your back, finally rising to your full height. Your nightshirt was more than a bit disheveled and your underwear now a mere memory as it lay tattered on the floor.

“Hm. Think so. Probably.”

You took a step and immediately wobbled, making Alcina snort.

“Hardly, pet. Remain still.”

You waited where you stood, with a warm blush across your cheeks that only deepened when your Captain took you into her arms and lifted you with ease.

“Heh.. thanks.”

A tiny smile upon her lips as she looked down at you.

“It is the least I can do, no? Consider I'm the one who left you in such a state.”

“I mean.. true.. but still, thank you.”

You looked up at her a bit sheepishly and she hummed, holding you a little closer.

“Did it help?” You asked, drowsy.

“What, dear?”

“The.. distraction..”

She laughed warmly. “Mh.. very much. Now rest.”

You nodded and curled into her bosom. Her warmth and steady breathing was all you needed to feel safe in the world. As your eyes grew heavier with each step, your mind began to fog again. Though, before it fully drifted off you couldn't help but have one final thought: which of the crew would be the first to find your discarded underwear left in pieces on the deck.

[onceuponastory]

protective - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky gets protective over Y/N during a mission. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A guy being creepy, reader being slightly uncomfortable and Bucky wanting to fight the guy. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This is very loosely based on El Tango De Roxanne from Moulin Rouge because I love that scene & that song. Also I was thinking about a Moulin Rouge AU so lemme know your thoughts. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own. Thank you to @staticscreenwriting for my divider!

“I don’t like this.” Bucky hisses, throwing a hard stare across the room. Nervously, he taps his feet. Although, when he sees Y/N standing there, leaning against the bar as she sips from her drink, his face softens ever so slightly, and a small smile grows on his face. But once he remembers what they’re doing here, his hard stare returns. He really doesn’t like this. Not one bit.

“Don’t worry Buck. She’s got this.” Steve’s voice crackles over the headset. “Besides, she has a wire on, so we’ll be able to hear everything, and we can step in if we need to.” Despite how his words are trying to be supportive, Bucky doesn’t feel comforted at all by his words. 

Tonight, they’re on another mission, ready to stop some corrupt agent intent on causing chaos. And Y/N was sent undercover to charm him and try to extract information because she’s not as publicly known as the other Avengers. It’s not the first time Y/N’s done something like this, but this time, Bucky hates the thought of sending her out there alone. From what Bucky’s heard, despite the man’s kind facade, he’s extremely cruel when he needs to be, and he has no issue with stepping on people to get what he wants. And no doubt he would do just the same to Y/N if she ever got in his way. Despite how experienced she is, the thought of Y/N stuck there with him alone makes his stomach churn.

“Sam, do you have visuals on Y/N?”

“Yes, Bucky. I did the first time you asked, and I still do now.” Before Bucky even asks his next question, Sam answers it. “Yes, I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“Good.”

Bucky knows his two best friends are worried about Y/N too, but he also knows that they think he’s overreacting slightly that Y/N is going to be perfectly safe. Bucky just hopes they’re right. Y/N is incredibly skilled at going undercover, and there’s no doubt she’ll do just as well today and get the information they need. It’s just that Bucky cares too much about her to let her go into these dangerous situations alone. At least not without her knowing that he’s there on the other end if she needs him. He’s been in love with her for as long as he can remember, and the last thing he wants is for her to be put in danger. His gaze goes back to Y/N, and he sighs. She looks gorgeous tonight, dressed to the nines. But that’s not too difficult. To Bucky, Y/N always looks gorgeous. Maybe one day he’ll actually find the guts to tell her the truth, instead of standing here all forlorn and lovesick, as Sam and Steve call it.

“Showtime.” Sam whispers, cutting through his thoughts. Bucky watches as the man enters the room, making a beeline straight to the bar. Y/N notices him too, and makes a point of brushing up against him slightly as she requests another drink. The man looks over her, pointedly staring at her chest and her ass. Bucky’s jaw clenches.

“Let me get that.” The man grins, placing his hand on Y/N’s wrist and reaching out with his card before Y/N can do anything. “Can’t let a pretty girl like you pay for your own drink now, can I?” Bucky suppresses a desire to vomit. Creep.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiles, batting her eyelashes slightly. The sight makes Bucky’s stomach flutter, the same way it usually does when he sees Y/N. Sometimes, Bucky likes to imagine that Y/N’s flirting is for him, and that she feels the same way he does for her. But for real this time.

As Y/N and the man find a table and start chatting, Bucky continues to watch, hating every moment. The way the man leers at her, a sick smirk on his face the entire time, makes Bucky’s stomach churn even more. He knows what assholes like him do, and he hates every part of it.

“Can you cool it with the glare, Buck? I’m not even in the same room as you and I can feel it burning through the wall.” Bucky ignores Sam’s comment and instead works through an action plan. A way to rescue Y/N in case she needs help. As he does so, he keeps a cautious eye on the pair, just in case. As she laughs along with the man, Bucky can pick up on the awkwardness in her laugh. He swears the noise makes his stomach twist. When the man presses a kiss to her cheek and a small flicker of unease crosses Y/N’s face, Bucky swears his heart almost stops.

In a moment, he jumps up, ready to charge in, to peel the man’s arms off of Y/N and drag him away from her. But before he can, Y/N takes control once more, changing the subject. Yet still, Bucky keeps a wary eye on the man. He flexes his metal arm, ensuring he’s ready to jump in and protect Y/N.

Whatever the cost.

Thankfully though, only a few hours later (albeit longer than Bucky would’ve liked), the agent suddenly has to leave, bringing the mission to a halt. And soon, Y/N is back safe and sound in the compound with the others. 

“Well done Y/N.” Steve praises, and Sam nods.

“Yeah. Great job.” Bucky murmurs, his tone causing Y/N to raise a brow.

“Guys, can I speak to Bucky alone for a moment, please?” she asks. Glancing at each other, Steve and Sam nod and leave the room. “So. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” he shrugs. Scoffing, Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“Bucky, there’s no point in lying. I know you.” She’s right, she does know him really well. Sometimes, Bucky swears that Y/N knows him better than anyone else. Even better than Steve. There’s no way he could even try to hide his feelings from her. “And besides, you were staring daggers out the window the whole ride back. Now, tell me what the problem is.”

“I just… when you were with that guy, I was worried about you, okay?!”

“Aww Bucky, you really do care about me!” she grins, giggling like it’s just a joke. But little does she know, Bucky doesn’t see it that way.

“I do care about you! Fuck Y/N, I care about you more than anything in this world, and the thought of that… that sicko being anywhere near you, o-or laying his hands on you makes me feel sick!” He exclaims, the words slipping out without another thought. “I know how good you are at going undercover, but the last thing I want is you getting hurt.” Y/N’s eyes widen.

“Oh… oh.” As silence falls amongst the pair, Bucky’s heart pounds. Why did it all have to slip out like that? Maybe keeping it in for so long has finally taken its toll. Y/N stares back at him, still silent. Bucky blushes, his cheeks turning scarlet. Now he looks like an idiot. A total lovesick idiot. 

“I’ll, um. I’ll go.” 

“No, wait.” Y/N stops him as he starts to leave, reaching out and touching his arm. “I-I never knew you felt that way about me, Bucky. Thank you.” she smiles, and Bucky nods.

“Y/N, I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” he admits, chuckling slightly. “You’re very special to me, Y/N.”

“And you’re special to me too, Buck. I’m so glad to have someone like you looking out for me.” Before Bucky can even respond, she presses a kiss to his cheek, his stubble lightly grazing against her lips. This almost sends Bucky’s heart into overdrive, and he swears his skin tingles from where she kissed him. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I had no idea you felt the same way about me.” she whispers, her words making Bucky’s mouth drop open. “I need to go type out my mission report, but maybe we can grab dinner afterwards? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.” Bucky nods. And then she heads down the hallway, waving goodbye. Even after she disappears from sight, Bucky still stares down the hall. He cups his cheek, still feeling it burn from when she kissed him. Still dumbstruck at how Y/N likes him back. A goofy grin overtakes his face. 

Despite how badly tonight started, he’s never been as happy as he is right now.

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[fuzzymakercloudduck]

Paige Bueckers x reader

Fluff! Comfort!

I’m sad, wrote this out of the fact I needed it

This is so self indulgent btw

Dusk till Dawn

I have come very far in my career for a twenty two year old, I knew that, but there is a twinkling feeling that chases me for so long, a feeling of failure as if I will never be good enough, it’s exhausting having to fight your brain in a endless battle day to day.

Through the years it got easier, I have found friends that were there for me, my family, my job which I love, and then Paige who has become my sunlight. But sometimes the things I went through, the mental stress I was once caged in comes backs crumbling the steps I took so far.

And it was exactly what was happening right now, an overwhelming takeover of anxiety, I have been overworking myself lately, the fear that I will be a failure knocking down my walls, trying to drive properly as tears blur my vision was not a easy task when I literally couldn’t even breath.

For some miracle I get to the building safely, but I just couldn’t push myself to even get my belt off, I sit in the car and just fall apart, remembering everything, the times in my teenage years I wished I were gone for good, and I know it wasn’t right but I got myself wondering if I done enough to deserve to have lived, if I suffered enough to deserve to have happiness, to deserve Paige, to deserve anything good that I got.

I dry my tears and try to look put together as I bring myself up to Paige’s dorm, hoping the other girls weren’t there so they wouldn’t see me in this state, I just needed to be in my girlfriends arms.

Thankfully once I open the door, the living room was empty so I was able to just go straight to Paige’s room.

Once I standing in front of her door I take a deep breath before knocking.

“Baby, it’s me” I noticed my voice being raspy because of the meltdown I had so I try to cough discreetly as I hear Paige opening the door.

“What happened?” Her face is of immediate concern as she look my face up and down, I was stupid to think I could just pretend everything was fine, at least to the one who knew me the most, and that realization instantly made me have new found tears streaming down my face as I let out a sob, the feeling of stupidity filled my whole body as I hide my face in my hands, right away I felt Paige’s arms around me pulling me in as she closes the door behind my back, her smell sinking me in.

“shh, it’s okay, I’m right here” I feel her guiding me to her bed as she sit us both down, her words made me melt into her embrace then my tears came for real, it felt like hours of simply crying and sobbing as Paige’s hand went up and down my back soothing me down, she kept silence, knowing me well enough to know I need to formulate my feelings before anything else.

“I’m right here for you baby, d’ya wanna talk about it?” her voice was low as she kissed the side of my head. I take a deep breath as I hold tight onto her before saying anything.

“I just felt so overwhelmed lately, with work and within myself really” I let out a sob before continuing, “it makes me so anxious that those feelings I felt when I was in the deepest stage of my depression will just come knocking down everything I’ve done, all the way I crossed, I’m just scared” I finish and feel her arms falling from around me to now her hands holding mine as she look in my eyes.

“You have no idea of how strong you are, and I understand is so scary to know you ever felt that way, but the difference is that you were dealing with all that all by yourself, you don’t have to do it anymore, whenever you feel like you lost just remember I am right here with you, as well as so other people that love you, you’re not alone anymore, and you’ve come so more far than you even realize.” Paige whips the tears that spill out of my eyes as second nature and then pull me into her chest laying both of us down, suddenly all the unsafely mindset evaporate, being drowned out by the comfort of the person that loves me.

“And I need you to promise me that you will always talk with me when you feel like this, ok?” She look in my eyes as she say this, Paige was one of the only people that I shared my past history with mental health medicine and the darkest side of my depression. “Doesn’t matter where or when, the moment you need it I am right here, you do not need to be strong alone, I love you”

“I love you Paige” my eyes were so heavy because of the tears,I knew this would be a bigger conversation in the morning but for now I really needed to drift in sleep in her arms, my safe space, my home. “Thank you for just being you” she held my tightly as she grabbed the blankets to throw over us once she realized my eyes closed.

“I’m here from dusk till dawn” I feel a kiss pressed to my forehead right before I stumble in sleep.

*NOT PROOFREAD, ALSO ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO DO NOT COME FOR ME

[kaleldobrev]

You Make Me Happy

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Fem!Reader

Summary: With you doing what he believes to be an incredibly reckless thing on a hunt, Dean finally realizes how much you really mean to him

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Mutual Pining, Slightly angry Dean

Authors Note: Dean just really loves Y/N and wants them to be safe | This came out longer than I expected it to be | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“Dean, I really, really am sorry okay? I don’t know what else you want me to say. I saw a chance and I took it.” Your heart was racing to the point that you wouldn’t have been surprised if it just busted out of your chest. You dropped your duffel bag with a quiet thud at your feet.

Dean turned to you, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor of the Bunker; the sound of the drop slightly echoing unlike yours. When he looked at you, his face was hard, and his jaw was clenched. Although he had the most beautiful green eyes that you have ever seen, despite everything that he has gone through, there was always some kind of light behind them. But in this moment, there was no light behind them – they were dark, ice cold, and his stare was like a sharp knife piercing into your skin. “Sorry? That’s it?” His voice was harsh and sounded just as cold as his stare.

You had seen him mad plenty of times before, this life would do that to you, but this was the first time that you had ever seen him mad at you. Him being mad at you was something that you’d hoped that you never have to experience; because the last thing you wanted was to have Dean Winchester upset with you. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time Sweetheart,” he continued. “You did something reckless and almost got yourself killed.”

“Oh, like you’ve never done anything reckless in your life Dean.” The minute you said those words out loud, you knew in your gut that you were in trouble. Dean stepped closer to you, not breaking the cold stare that he had on you. The tension in the room was so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife.

“I may be reckless, but I’m not stupid. What you did…that…that was stupid.” What you had done, you didn’t think it was reckless or stupid; you thought that it was pretty smart considering the circumstances.

The two of you had just gotten back from clearing a vamp’s nest a state over, and it was considered to be a relatively small one – only about three in the nest compared to the usual five plus. With Sam out of commission for the moment – who knew the common flu could make someone like Sam be bed ridden for days – you offered to go along with Dean. At first, Dean didn’t want you to come along because you really weren’t that experienced with vampires. You had taken one out a few years ago, but that was all there was – only one vamp one time; and this was going to be at least three, maybe more. You had reassured Dean that you were not a child and have been hunting for over a decade; something that he sometimes forgets from time to time. While in the warehouse where they were stationed, Dean got cornered by one of the vamps who had knocked his machete from his hand. You were on the top floor and there was a long chain next to you. You eyed the chain and grabbed onto it, your machete in the other hand and swung over and chopped the vamps head off, thus saving Dean. When you touched down, you thought how cool it was, but Dean on the other hand thought it was reckless of you to do something like that. The whole car ride back to the Bunker there were no words exchanged between the two of you unlike the usual banter you had; it was just the sounds of AC/DC.

“Dean, if I didn’t do my little swing and a hit trick back there with that vamp, you would have been dead.” He was closer to you now and all you could do was start backing up; Dean was starting to scare you a bit.

“And if that chain didn’t hold you? Newsflash, you would have been dead too Sweetheart.” There was so much anger building up inside of him. A part of him was grateful for what you did, another part was impressed that you were able to pull off something like that, but the strongest part of him was angry that you risked your life like that, not fully knowing if your little plan was going to work or not. “I’m fucking awesome! Did you see that?” You said to him, the biggest smile plastered on your face. Truthfully, when he saw you do that, he had wanted to kiss you in that moment and tell you how awesome it really looked; how superhero like it looked. But all that came out was, “What the fuck was that?” The second he said those words, your once huge smile dropped.

“I’m gonna go to my room.” You made your way around Dean. “You…you should go shower…cool off.” You suggested.

It had been a few hours since you and Dean had that weird confrontation. Dean had taken a shower like you had suggested he do in order to cool off and was now sitting on the floor of his bedroom with a beer in one hand looking through photos of the two of you. As he drank, he stopped on a particular picture; it happened to be one of his favorites and he honestly had no idea why. The two of you weren’t doing anything particularly special; it was just some random picture that Jack had taken of the two of you about a few months back. For Jack’s birthday this year, you had bought them a polaroid camera because you had wanted to teach Jack about making memories. “Sometimes humans like to take pictures when they want to remember a moment, or a particular person forever.” You had told them. The photo that Jack had taken of the two of you were of you guys sitting next to each other in the War Room, each of you with an open book in front of you on the table with Dean looking at you with the biggest smile on his face. For some reason, this was the moment that Jack had wanted to capture, and Dean had no idea why so he had asked Jack. “You looked happy. It’s like what Y/N said. Humans take pictures when they want to remember a moment or person forever. This moment was happy, and I want us to remember that.” Is how Jack responded to the question.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the picture. “I really do look happy.” He said aloud to himself. He took a sip of his beer and moved onto the next picture. This one he knew was your favorite. In this picture of the two of you that Jack had taken, you were sitting in front of Baby. Dean was in the driver’s seat like normal with his hands on the steering wheel, while you were in the passenger seat giving him the biggest smile with one of your hands resting on his thigh. Dean had remembered that day clearly – not fully knowing why – but you and him were going to run errands in town. It was supposed to be just the two of you, and for some reason Dean was excited that it was just going to be the two of you. But you had asked Jack if they wanted to come along so they could get more experience being around people. Jack of course said yes and insisted that they bring their polaroid camera. At some point during the drive to town, your hand had found his thigh and you had given it a small pat. Dean asked Jack a few days later after seeing the picture and asked why Jack had taken it. “Y/N looked really happy. I like seeing her happy; like how I like seeing you, Cas, and Sam happy.”

“You looked happy…Y/N looked really happy.” Jack’s words echoed in Dean’s mind. “You really do look happy Sweetheart. God knows why.” Dean commented placing the photo back into the small wooden box he kept underneath his bed. “Humans take pictures when they want to remember a moment or person forever.” Yet another sentence of Jack’s that echoed in the back of his mind. These sentences, looking at these pictures of the two of you, getting unnecessarily angry after the hunt, looking forward to spending alone time with you – it was all starting to click into place for him. These pictures of the two of you and the memories that he had of you were the only things that he would have left to remember you by if you had died on this hunt. He would have lost someone that truly made him happy, and that scared him; the thought of losing you.

You were lying in bed watching TV, still slightly wet from the shower you had just taken. You were under the blankets and wearing one of Dean’s faded Motörhead t-shirts that he had given you because it no longer fit him. He was originally going to throw it out, but you had convinced him to give it to you because, “It still has some life left in it.” In which he replied, “Knock yourself out Sweetheart.”

There was a light knocking at your door. “Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s me.” Dean replied. Dean was the last person you wanted to talk to right now, still slightly upset about the way he had talked to you a few hours earlier.

“Who’s me?” You asked, full well knowing that it was Dean – you recognized his voice, and his footsteps from a mile away. “I don’t know who me is.”

You heard Dean sigh from the other side of the door. “Dean.”

“Come in.” You said shutting off your TV; you had a feeling that he had wanted to talk.

Dean opened your door slowly. “Can we…Can we talk?” He stepped into your room and shut the door behind him.

“Are you going to get mad at me again?” Your question made him sigh.

“No. I’m…I came to apologize. You…you didn’t do anything wrong.” You raised an eyebrow at his weird attempt at an apology.

“You said I was reckless, that what I did was stupid.” You were confused. He was so angry just several hours earlier, not taking your apology but here he was attempting to apologize to you.

“Honestly…the way you swung on that chain and chopped his head off, it was…it was awesome.” He walked toward your bed and sat down on the edge of it. “I know you were only trying to save me. And…you did. Because, truthfully, I’d be as dead as a doornail if it weren’t for your quick thinking back there.”

“So, you’re not…mad?” You questioned.

“No, not anymore. I uh, I shouldn’t have gotten as mad as I did, and truthfully, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at all. But I realized why I was so angry before. I wasn’t angry at you. I was…” He looked you in the eyes; his eyes were no longer full of that darkness and coldness that was there a few hours earlier. “I was mad because I didn’t like the possibility of losing you.” To some, this admission may have seemed like it came out of nowhere, but not for you. For some time you knew how the older Winchester brother had felt about you; but you weren’t completely sure if it was in a platonic or romantic way. But the way he had said it, you knew that the feeling wasn’t platonic – it was romantic in nature.

“Dean.” You inched yourself toward him and placed a hand on his thigh. “You’re not going to lose me, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep Y/N.” He was afraid, and you could hear his voice was slightly breaking. “I’ve lost too many people that promised me that they were going to come back that didn’t.” You knew about some of the people that he was referring to, but not all of them. Some of the people that he had just hinted at were some of the same ones that you had lost.

“Okay.” Was all you could say at first, knowing that Dean was right. There was no way you could in fact keep that promise; especially being in this life. “But I know…I know there’s one promise that I can keep.” You stated. You removed yourself from underneath the blankets and adjusted yourself to sitting on your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“What’s that Sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“I can promise you that, as long as I live, I’ll always be in your corner no matter what. As a friend, family…” you were unsure if you should say the next couple of words but decided to say them, probably against your better judgement. “Romantic partner…I’ll be there, even if you think I’m not, I will be.”

“Romantic partner uh?” He asked amused, placing his hands on your hips. If someone walked in right now, they would have never guessed that you and Dean had an argument only hours earlier, and just had a somewhat emotional conversation not even a minute ago. “You make it sound so…business like.” A strand of hair fell in front of your face just then, but before you could do anything about it, Dean was already on top of it, tucking the strand behind your ear. Without any kind of hesitation, he leaned in, and so did you; your lips capturing each other’s.

The kiss went on longer than either of you probably expected; and it was the type of kiss that you weirdly weren’t expecting from someone like Dean. It wasn’t rough or lustful; it was gentle and slightly needy. You were the one that broke the kiss between the two of you – something that you thought wouldn’t happen. You looked at him for a moment, slightly brushing his cheek with your thumb. “Does this make us romantic partners now?” You half joked.

“You tell me Sweetheart. It can be anything you want it to be.” He responded.

“Romantic business partners it is.” You stated, leaning in again to kiss him. He was happy for you to of said yes, even if it was in your own weird way.

[kingofthecotas]

perfect disaster (ever after) | ao3

soulmate au, 2024 | ~4.5k (explicit)

this is long (valentino has a lot of self-reckoning to get through) so feel free to read it on ao3 if you prefer!

finally done! thank you to everyone who's read this series ily mwah

----

Valentino goes to Jerez. 

Uccio rolls his eyes when he informs him, says, “I’ll be in the garage that weekend. I’ll bring the motorhome.” 

“Sure. Whatever.”

Valentino reaches out and flicks the crease of Uccio’s elbow, where his mark is, and his friend softens like he always does. “Cheer up.”

“Why Jerez?”

“No reason.”

“Not because of Márquez, then?”

Valentino scowls. Marc has been riding well, yes, getting to grips with the Ducati, losing the front too often, but Valentino has a team, he has Bez and Diggia to look after, and Marc—

He hasn’t seen Marc for months. 

“You need to decide what you want with this.” Now it’s Uccio’s turn to prod at Valentino’s mark, to send a comforting warmth up his arm. “It has been over for, what, nine years?”

“Well…” 

Uccio stares at him. Blinks. “Actually, I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Good choice,” Valentino says brightly. 

——

Jerez, Spain

His bravado evaporates once he’s in the paddock. 

Jerez is—he still hates it, just a little. He’d been sat in the garage, stewing about his stupid engine or gearbox or whatever, and then Marc had been cartwheeling through the gravel trap. 

He hadn’t called. Not until Mandalika, two years later. 

And he—

That had cracked the careful wall; he’d shown Marc his bloody viscera, held it out tacky and red in his hands. And Marc—Marc had let him. Marc had answered the phone. Marc had kept answering the phone, until Valencia. 

Part of Valentino wants to say fuck him. Another part sneers that it’s been this long, what’s the difference? If he’s feeling any kind of pull, it’s surely only the rotted dregs of what they had, the marks they both carry. Marc is Marc; there’s a reason they fell apart in the first place. 

Marc is Marc, but he is not the same: not twenty and wide-eyed; not watching Valentino’s every move, logging every reaction like he can’t believe it’s happening to him. He’s changed, Jerez and Sepang and Valentino calcifying everything about him. It hurts more now, now that he’s had a taste of how they used to be, how good they were. How Marc could brush a hand over the mark, the soul-piece, and Valentino would grab his face and kiss him. Helpless. Choiceless. 

He shouldn’t have gone in Valencia. He shouldn’t, because Marc had been upset—he’d been crying, however much he tried to hide it, red eyes, red nose—and Marc doesn’t fucking think sometimes. Just—reaches out. Races towards the gravel because he might not crash, he might win. Pushes his bike until he falls. Reaches for Valentino even when it hurts. 

Hurts so much, apparently, that he’s finally pulled back. Stopped reaching. Closed his eyes, turned his face away. Valentino—well, he’s tried not to let it sting. 

None of it matters when he spots Marc on the Friday, walking in step with his brother, and reaches a hand out with a smile before he can stop himself. “Marc—”

Marc rears away like he thinks Valentino’s touch will burn him. 

Like he remembers how his own pinched expression smoothed out, curled up in the bed in his motorhome, when Valentino touched his mark. Like he hates himself for it. 

(Because he’d been awake. Valentino is sure he’d been awake.) 

(Valentino had said his name. Marc had pretended to be asleep.) 

Álex says, “No,” and pushes between them, head tilted in a challenge.

Fucking—Christ.

“Good to see you,” Valentino forces out, and stalks away. 

——

“You’re riding well,” he tells Marc over the phone, instead of sitting down with Bez and saying talk to me, tell me what is wrong, the bike, the tyres, what is it? 

Instead of opening his motorhome door and walking a few hundred metres. 

Stony silence. Then, “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you—”

“No.” Marc sounds tired in a way that sits in Valentino’s chest. “Why—why are you doing this, Vale? It was easier—” He cuts off. “At least when I knew you didn’t want me—that was easier.” 

“Marc.” It’s like—a tooth hitting something hard, cracking, sharp cold pain, part of himself splintered away and falling to the ground. 

“Fuck, Valentino, stop. Just—stop.”

Helpless, he does.

“I’m not—I won’t—you made it clear, no? This—you wanted this. So I do not understand why—I don’t know what you want. I don’t know why, and it’s—not fair.” 

That hurts worse, somehow. 

“Valentino?”

“Yeah?” 

“Why?” Marc whispers.

And—what can Valentino say to that? Does he say that he still wakes up in the middle of the night in blind breathless panic, scrabbling for the part of Marc branded into his skin, begging for it to still be there? Does he tell him that the familiar bruise, the heavy numbness, is nothing compared to that half-second where the mark—his mark—had flaked away like ash and it had hurt deeper than he could ever comprehend? That it had been worse than he could have possibly imagined, that it proved every fear he’d ever had, that he—?

That Marc had been gone. That he will never change. That Valentino loves him anyway. 

Not because the universe told him to. Because he’s Marc. 

Valentino can’t say that. He can’t. 

Marc makes a noise that might be a laugh. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Marc—”

The line beeps. 

——

He watches Marc on the podium, watches him smile and cheer and play to the crowd, alive and utterly beautiful.

He looks away before anyone catches him staring. 

——

When he wakes up that night, gasping, the memory of it behind his eyes, the emptiness, the ash-smudge where Marc should be, he reaches for his phone. Stops. 

He remembers Argentina sometimes, remembers how the wet grass hadn’t hurt but the anger had, clawing out of his throat, and his arm had burned where Marc had clattered into him. 

He remembers how Marc stood on the side of the track in Sepang, too long, clutching his arm—and Valentino had thought it wasn’t that hard, it wasn’t even on purpose—

And now he thinks of Marc slapping a hand over his soulmark in Misano, of the way Marc had pulled away from him like a reflex three days ago. He thinks of the bone-deep bruise after Argentina—he’d felt it for days, and even in his anger had thought he didn’t hit me that hard—

He swallows. Exhales. Finds Marc, traces the shape of him. It throbs, that old bruise, like a half-healed injury. Does it hurt the same for Marc? he wonders absently, and swallows again.

In Valencia, had he—had it hurt? No, surely not, because Marc’s face that night—and the morning after, nothing but content. He hasn’t fucked it. Maybe. 

Maybe he has. 

He doesn’t call. 

——

Marc crashes. Again. Again. Again.

Assen, that’s a big one, and Valentino has to steady himself when the anger rears its head, ugly and familiar. Marc used to piss him off so much—still can, apparently. Selfish bastard, he thinks, and there it is, that’s what he hated from the first moment. No warning, no choice, just a twist of the cosmos and a soulmark that could vanish as quickly as it appeared, a soulmate that didn’t care. 

He’s lived that now, that nightmare, even if just for a heartbeat, and he’d spent long enough without being angry to truly recognise it when it returns. 

Fear. 

——

They were always meant to fall together, and that’s what made Valentino sick to his stomach. 

Because it should have been his choice. It would have been.

I wanted to choose you. I would have, anyway. 

It was so perfect, so fucking perfect, because of course it would have been. Of course. And he kept scratching and prodding and hurting, trying to prove something, and Marc always came back, because Marc believed in it. Until Valentino pushed too far. 

And he’s Marc, and he’s an idiot, and he never understood what it meant to carry a piece of Valentino’s soul in him, and he never understood what it meant every time he lost the bike, and he never understood that it meant forever.

Valentino—maybe he never understood that Marc is Marc, and he loves fiercely and he races hard and he wanted him. Marc loved him.

Not anymore, maybe. 

Anything. Anything Marc will give him now, he’ll lap it up like a starving dog. Anything is better than nothing. Anything is better than ash. 

——

Misano Adriatico, Italy

Valentino is chilled to the bone by the time the team finishes their post-mortem: fine rain that seeps through even his waterproof coat, sits in his hair. Bez shakes his head like a wet dog as he leaves. 

Franky must be annoyed at himself—he had the pace, and he wouldn’t have made the mistake of pulling into the pitlane. Pecco must be relieved. They’re expecting the ranch now: Misano, Valentino, food, friends, not-so-gentle ribbing, a race dissection. Valentino should send them off, tell them I’ll be right behind you, call ahead to make sure food is ready when they get there. 

But—

Marc. Marc, practically vibrating with the thrill of it. As if Aragón hadn’t been enough, golden under the sun, he’d rolled in heavy as the clouds. Inevitable. 

Valentino can’t—he can’t stop thinking about it, how Marc had been, objectively speaking, stupid, riding reckless, nothing to lose: everything that used to turn sour in his mouth when he pinned Marc against hotel walls and demanded he understand what it would mean to lose him. He can’t stop thinking how it had been beautiful. Marc had been beautiful.

In the end, he sends the boys off to Tavullia, sends Uccio to play referee. He might join them later.

For now, he lets his feet take him, a step at a time, past his own motorhome and towards Marc’s. It won’t be long, surely; it’s late already, and they have to clear the paddock before tomorrow. So he waits, rain clinging in his hair, in his clothes, until he shivers: sticky-cold, unpleasant. He waits. 

Marc is mercifully alone when he appears, huddled in his coat, and stops when he finds Valentino at the top of the metal steps. His eyes narrow, none of the thrumming electricity from before remaining. Maybe he’s thinking of the last time Valentino came to his motorhome. 

A second later—an awful awful second—Marc silently opens the door and lets Valentino follow him through, a miracle in itself. It’s stifling, though, as Marc puts his cap on the kitchen worktop, kicks off his shoes, and tilts his head at Valentino to tell him where he can stand, on the other side of the countertop. Barrier between them. Valentino does as he’s directed, rests on his elbows, tension heavy like a storm in the air.

One look tells him this is it. He has no more chances.

“Well done,” Valentino whispers, and the way Marc shrinks away from him now, retreats even further than before Valencia—it aches. 

“Thank you.”

“Can I—?”

“You probably will anyway.”

“Marc.” 

“Valentino.”

They teeter there for a long moment, cliff edge. Marc is forgiving, yes, but even he had limits; Valentino doesn’t know if he wants to find them. “You cannot say you don’t know what I want when you are being like this.”

The scowl that crosses Marc’s face is so petulant it could be funny. “Like what?” 

“Like—we were—I thought we were getting better.” 

“Better?”

Valentino decides to push. “It was good, no? In Valencia?”

Marc almost chokes; he’s angry, Valentino realises too late. “Valencia—?”

“Not for you then.” And he’s done it, found the edge and sent them tumbling from the sky.

Not for the first time.

“You left,” Marc snarls, face white, fists clenched. “That morning, you just—”

“You were pretending to be asleep!” 

Marc stops. “I—”

“Like you didn’t want to—” Valentino waves a hand. “So yes, I left. You ignored me.”

Marc gapes. 

“You died, also,” Valentino says. May as well, if they’re doing this. They’re going to hit the ground hard anyway. “You were gone, and it hurt. And—I will do anything to never feel that again. Selfish, yes. I don’t care. I always knew—you were going to hurt me.”

“Fuck you—”

“Please listen.” It’s a grace he doesn’t deserve that Marc does, that he waits. Maybe he wants to see the shape of Valentino’s insides one last time, wants them laid out bloody and exposed here in his motorhome kitchen. “That is what I—it hurt more than I could have imagined. And I imagined it a lot. As soon as you—the moment I had you, I was scared of losing you.” 

“You said you never wanted me.” A flash of Marc, pressed against the wall of his motorhome, clawing at Valentino’s arm. If I could rip you out of me, I would. 

“No, it’s—” And how can Valentino ever put it into words in a way that won’t lock him out for good? Yes, before. No, not at first. Yes, after. Yes, for years. Not now. 

“I didn’t die,” Marc says finally, words tiny in the gulf between them.

“Not for lack of trying, hm?”

Eyes rolled. Familiar argument. “I’m racing, Vale. That’s all.” 

And, “I know.” He knows. That’s all it ever was. 

“You said—” Marc swallows. “You wanted the choice.”

“Yes.”

“You would have chosen me.”

Easier to say it at five o’clock in the morning, half-asleep, terror still fresh in his veins. Valentino closes his eyes. “Yes.” 

“I don’t understand,” Marc says, wrung out of him, twisted and squeezed until he gives way. “I—”

When Valentino opens his eyes, Marc is staring back at him, cracked open, wavering. 

“You’re such a fucking—” And Marc laughs. “You’re so difficult. You would have anyway. You just—didn’t like that it wasn’t your decision.” 

What the fuck can he say to that?

“And you were so—” Marc gestures loosely. “You just—were you looking for an excuse, was that it?”

“No—”

“Any reason for you to prove something to the universe.” A flash of teeth: an animalistic snarl. “Because you never asked for this. You never wanted it. You wanted your tenth championship more than you wanted a soulmate.”

“I wanted you,” Valentino whispers. “I want you.” 

“You said—” Marc cuts off. Shakes his head. “You—I don’t understand you. I don’t know—I don’t know what you want.”

“I just told you.” The words are acid, because Marc doesn’t believe him. 

You still want me, right?

Too much—too much since then. Too much pushing and scratching, and their foundations have long since crumbled. He can’t reach out and find forgiveness, can’t conjure it up with the brush of fingers on skin. 

“You told me a lot of things, Valentino.” 

You rode well. You need to stop crashing. I want you. I love you. I never wanted this. I love you. I hate you. I love you. 

“Marc—” There’s panic now, cold and sickening at the back of his throat, because Marc might close up, tell him to leave, and that would be it: no more cracked door, no more answered calls. Gone for good. 

Nothing but an old bruise. 

“Why did you answer the phone?”

That makes him pause, mid-step. “What?”

“When I called, after your crash. Why did you answer?”

“I was concussed,” Marc says, mean, eyes narrowed, trying to hurt. Trying to see how much Valentino means this, if he’ll respond in kind. Blood for blood. 

“Ah, well, they should not have given you your phone, if that was the case.” 

Marc doesn’t crack. “Why did you call?”

“You know why.” 

“No, I don’t. You maybe—you wanted to make sure you didn’t lose your mark? Only because it hurt, of course. You wanted to remind yourself that all I do is crash?” Pushing, pushing, the way Valentino used to: pushing to the limits and beyond, scratching and snarling, testing the reaches of intertwined fate. “Fuck, Vale—give me a straight answer for once in your life.” 

Well, they’ve never been very good at that. Valentino drops his head, presses fingers to his pinched forehead. “You’re my soulmate.”

“That you don’t want.”

“Now who is difficult?” he retorts before he can stop himself, and Marc’s expression settles into something—somewhere between satisfaction and resignation. He pushed Valentino over the edge. Won the battle to lose the war. “No, listen—you are my soulmate. I did not want a soulmate.”

“I know.”

“I want you. Do you see?”

“No.” 

“I’m trying,” Valentino says quietly, and that seems to buy him a little more time, a little more grace. “Why—why did you—in Valencia, why didn’t you answer me?” 

Marc folds his arms, throws his walls back up. “Does it matter?”

“If we are being honest with each other, then…”

“If I—” Honesty comes as difficult to Marc as it does to Valentino, apparently. “If I opened my eyes, it was over. But you left anyway, so.” 

“And…you did not want it to be over?” 

The glare Marc levels at him this time is frigid. “You were the one who—”

“Yes, but—even then?” 

“Before, then, now.” Marc shrugs, like that isn’t monumental, seismic. 

“Oh,” Valentino says, exhales the word and watches it float away. His limbs are air, all of a sudden, because Marc is not the same as ten years ago and Valentino has been unforgivable and yet—

Marc wants him. 

Despite it all, he smiles.

“Do not—” Marc hisses. “Do not fucking laugh at me.”

“No—no. Sorry. I am sorry.” He shakes his head. “I’m—so fucking sorry.” For it all. Such a small word for everything he’s done. 

Marc’s tight jaw loosens. “You are getting good at saying this.” 

“We are never too old to stop learning, I think.” 

Silence. 

“Sorry,” Valentino offers again; Marc looks at him and he’s feeling fucking giddy now, helium-light, floaty. 

Marc swallows, says, “Valentino,” in a way that pulls him back to earth. 

He has no right to expect it to be that easy, not after everything. The lightness turns leaden. 

“You are not being fair,” Marc whispers, throat clicking as he swallows again, eyes shining. It’s worse, this, than his probing cruelty. “You—it is always up to you, no? You want me, you do not want me. I will keep racing. I will crash. You will change your mind again. I am not—I will not do that.”  

“I will not change my mind—”

“I think you will. I will race Pecco too hard, maybe. I will go to the ranch and you will get that look—like you remember it is the rest of our lives and it scares you, or like you hate me for something that I—I could not control any more than you could. I am not waiting for you to remember that you do not want me.”

Valentino drops his head again, presses his thumbs into the corners of his eyes. His head hurts. He’s cold. “You will be waiting a long time. For that.”

“How long?”

“Forever.” 

“That is a long time.”

“Yes.” 

“Look at me.” 

Valentino does, helpless. Marc’s expression is wretched; his eyes dance, side-to-side, until he’s found whatever he was looking for in Valentino’s face. He pulls his eyebrows together, turns the corners of his mouth down.

“I mean, I know the sex was good, but…” 

The laugh sputters out of Valentino’s chest, halfway hysterical, almost a sob, and Marc grins, triumphant, because he’s joking, he’s— “Don’t be a bastard.” 

“I am allowed this, no?”

Valentino tips his head, side to side. “You are allowed this a little, I think.” He lets himself smile. “Why did you answer the phone?” 

“You know why.”

He does. But— 

But. 

“I was not the one who—” and Marc stops this time, swallows the words. Like he knows they might hurt. Like he cares that they’ll hurt. 

There’s hope now, singing a thready song in time with Valentino’s pulse. If he can just grasp it—

“You should—you should come to Tavullia,” he says in a rush. “Not—not the ranch. My house. Please. You should.”

Marc stares, disbelief written openly on his face.

“I know—I know this means—it is forever. I know that. I will not—”

“The team will want to celebrate,” Marc says, dull.

“Oh.”

“But—well. We will finish early, probably. We have to prepare for the flyaways.” A shrug. “After that…”

“After that,” Valentino agrees on an exhale. 

Marc smiles. 

——

Valentino had meant it: they’d been good in Valencia. It had been good. It also—hadn’t been.

Valencia was—it was Marc upset, falling to pieces between his hands in all the wrong ways, fracturing until he slipped away like sand. Marc didn’t understand, thought he was playing Valentino’s game, and Valentino had thought finally, finally, he’d fixed it. It had been frantic, too frenetic after eight years without. It had been a supernova, brilliant and bright for an agonising second before the sky went dark again.

Not this time. Valentino is not ashamed to admit his elbows are starting to strain, arms taking his weight, but he’s not rushing this, not when he has Marc between his planted palms, staring up at him and grinning. Marc’s not drunk, but—pink cheeks, eyes shining dark in the half-light, hair a mess, smiling so widely it’s splitting his face. They used to be good; this might be better.

Valentino rolls his hips, bites his lip at the friction, forces his eyes to stay open because Marc’s smile melts into a perfect gasp, eyelashes fluttering.

Marc had made it to Tavullia. He had then made it no further than the sofa. 

“Vale—” he hisses, and there’s the scrape of fingernails, but across Valentino’s back, far from any soulmark. 

“Okay?” 

“Of course it’s okay—” Another broken-off inhale. Marc grabs Valentino’s right arm, just above the elbow; when he steadies himself, he slides his fingers up, traces the oh-so-familiar outline, and Valentino’s smooth, careful movement turns jerky at the burst of sparks. “Stop—fucking around.” 

Valentino laughs, light, and Marc’s mouth finds his, smiling again.

The quivering electricity fades, but Marc presses his big palm over Valentino’s mark and keeps it there, warm and steady, says here, I’m here, I’ll always be here without words. Valentino can feel it, the promise of it, beating with his pulse—not throbbing, not bruised, not anymore. He drags his hips up, slowly again, relishing the heat around his cock, watching Marc’s face as his sigh melts into something blissful. 

It doesn’t matter what the universe says; it never mattered, because this is Marc. He’s an idiot, and Valentino’s an idiot, but they’re here and they’ve chosen to be here. 

That—that has to mean something. 

——

“Vale.”

He cracks open one eye, forces himself out of the doze that had almost become sleep. “Mm?” 

“I have an early flight,” Marc whispers, warm against his skin. Cracking the door open, dismissing himself before Valentino has to. 

“You should go to sleep, then.”

Silence—then, in the dark of Valentino’s room, Marc smiles. It’s shadowed in the watery moonlight trickling through the curtains: Marc, silhouetted all silvery beside him in bed, the lines of his body, his mussed hair, his cheeks curved up as he beams. Hot breath ghosts over Valentino’s mark—his mark, his mark—and he shivers. 

“Long flight, yes?”

“Indonesia.”

“Ah,” Valentino says, like he doesn’t already know. 

“Not my favourite.” They’re heavy, those words; they carry a lot. 

“Not mine, either.” But, Valentino supposes, it’s a little like full circle, in a fucked-up way. Mandalika: Marc falls; he picks up the phone. And now, now—

Now he might finally have what he always should have wanted, what he only realised he’d miss when he nearly lost it for good. Forever. 

It’s as if Marc can read his mind, because he rolls closer, chin pressing into Valentino’s chest. “What…?” He stops. “What if I never had that crash?”

Valentino has been trying to avoid thinking about that, mainly because he doesn’t have an answer himself. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I said at the time, yes?” Valentino reaches over to tap a finger on Marc’s soulmark, smiling when he sighs.

“Stop trying to distract me—”

“Without this, my mark, I would not have called. So that is something.” 

Marc tilts his head, like he remembers what they said on the phone that first time, like he turns it over in his head as often as Valentino does.  “You never—before that, you talked about it differently. You never said—you never called it yours.”

Another thing Valentino has no answer to. Maybe Marc just needs to say it, let it take form and hover between them. He hopes so. He’s gotten off lightly so far. 

“You know in 2015–”

Jesus. Maybe not.

“I was racing,” Marc says, unapologetic but like he needs to say it, needs Valentino to hear it. “Don’t look like that—we never fucking talked about anything before. We just had sex.”

“Good sex.” 

“Valentino.” 

“I thought you had a flight in the morning—”

“Valentino.”

Valentino sighs. “I know you were racing. I know it was nothing else. I know. I just—I was already—you had crashed so much, bad crashes that year, and it was like you didn’t care about yourself, or my races. There was so much, and there was Jorge, and the championship, and my soulmate had a death wish. It—everything. All of it.” 

Marc’s eyes glint in the thin darkness, watching him steadily. 

“Not an excuse. I—”

“You hurt me.”

“I know,” Valentino croaks. Hurt his arm. Hurt their marks. Hurt him so deeply it’s a miracle they’re here at all. 

He wonders if it means something, for that little part of him to live now among the rest of Marc’s scars. If Marc had ever felt his arm ache and not been sure which injury was digging old teeth in. If Valentino ever became, even for a while, just something else Marc had healed from.

But Marc is forgiving, or maybe just tired, and he tucks his head in, settles himself in Valentino’s arms. 

“It’s a long triple header.” 

“Yes,” Marc murmurs, and he doesn’t sound upset about the change in topic. It’s more than Valentino deserves. 

“What are you going to do after?”

“Get ready for the next triple header.”

Valentino curls his right arm around Marc’s shoulders, fingers finding scars and soulmark. There’s himself. There’s Marc. “Sensible. What about after that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You could come back here. You should.” 

Marc looks at him. Smiles. “And after?” 

“Ah, I have a race. And you have the test. Ducati, of course. After that, you will come back here again.”

A smirk, no sharp edge to it. “I will?”

“Yes,” Valentino says, and it sings between them, the certainty of it. The promise. “You will.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hii wifey!!! okay it's currently super late where i am right now and i can't sleep 😭 but ever since my post on @dirty-little-mind33 i- i haven't been able to stop thinking of dbf!tangerine 😫

like like JDJSJDDJHFFJ

it's giving your dad's hired hitman and they're friends or whatever (don't ask for the specifics, I'm half asleep) and he takes a liking to you and he treats you like a princess FR

keeps you in check so you stay out of trouble, little touches, "love", "princess", "sweetness", "SWEET GIRL" ANRJRNENDN like it's giving the same vibes as bodyguard!tan.

can just imagine him sitting in an armchair of your living room, legs spread bc he's a man and it's sometimes super hot (don't sue me), and he asks you for a lighter and so you hand him one and he blows smoke in your face as he thanks you and calls you his good girl 🥵

okay sorryyyyyyyyyy this is so long i just needed to share and hear your thoughts 🫶

on another note, dbf!logan is also sooo hot but that's for another ask 💖

my wife!! hi wifey! so this will be like im talking to you directly, like im typing everything my brain is thinking in real time. it makes it personal and intimate, I love it. enjoy 💞💞💞💞(also sorry only just got round to this)

no bc you’re so onto something EURRRGGHHHH!!!!

and like okay right so! he’s been working for your dad for a few years and bc it’s only been a few years he’s not known you long (meaning he didn’t see you grow up etc bc that’ll be😃🤮) and like when you visit ur parents or idk you live with them (pick what you fancy) you see him at the dining table with your dad and got all the papers out and laptops etc and they’re chatting about work stuff/ plan

idea time. you go past them and into the kitchen and your dad is none the wiser looking at the papers and maybe questioning the prices but tans looking at you in the kitchen. and tans like “do us a couple teas would ya darling” (ew tan, why would you say that? have you no respect? no shame?) and he’s being all cheeky bc of the darling. but your dad doesn’t think anything of it, like it’s a common petname kinda thing. and it makes your ears prick and turn to look at him and he’s all smug????? and nodding at you????

this is really getting away from me but im not done, you’ve got me going 😭😭😭

tan definitely tests the waters, pushes the boat out LOADS. like he’s so teasing and cheeky in how he does it. def touches your back when ur dads in the same room, looks at you during dinners, sits opposite you during said dinners and touches you with his foot (but not in an gross way bc feet are disgusting) or sits beside you during said dinners and spreads his legs so his thigh bumps yours AND AHHAAHHAGAHA OMG THIS IS KILLING ME has his elbows wide on the table so he takes up more space and feels your arm up with his

and if you’re in the garden after dinner getting some air bc of what happened at the table. he’d come out and join you. but not properly. you might be at the end of the garden sitting at the patio table or something and he’s on the steps by the back door having a fag. like he’s keeping an eye on you but not making it obvious for your family inside

he’s also always offering lifts! so like if you don’t have a car or it’s in the shop or idk blah blah you ask your dad for a lift and tans there and he offers to drive you. and you’re like “no it’s fine” bc sitting in a car with him will make you like idk but like yk GO CRAZY. and tans all like “it’s no fuss. gotta pick something up that way anyway” and your dad is still oblivious so he’s agreeing to it like “tan’ll take you” and tan grabs his keys and he’s nodding you along like (okay don’t hate me for this. I don’t have a daddy kink but this idea is sending me and I need to say it) he’s all like “what daddy said goes” 😫😃😫😀🫠👍😉😔😖😱😰🫣🤭🤔AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASAAAAAHHHH!!! and it has a double meaning!!!!!!!!!!!! bc he means your dad but also him!!!!!!! and the ‘take you’ bit!!!!! he also means that he’ll take you. like fuck you. so it’s all a huge double entendre

GOD THIS IS KILLING ME!!!!!!!!! making me wanna do something with dbf tan now

but he’s such a gentleman about it. like he’s teasing and smug and cocky but he’s still very charming and charismatic about it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and when he drops you off he’s looking at your ass getting out and then opens the window to talk to you through the car and he’s like “call me if you need me”

and you’re like “why would I call you?” like shouldn’t he be saying to call your dad????

and he’s all like “you know why”

and you’re like “huh?” looking at him all weird

AND YHEN HE SAYS “he don’t pay attention to you like I do” GOOD DUCKING GOD SJJABSJDBS

im gonna have to stop there bc I know I never will. plus I have rice cooking and the timer went off 5 mins ago so I really gotta run😭😭😭😭

but you’re so right about him being the same as bodyguard tangerine!!!

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x f!reader

chapter thirty-three: run, girl, run!

That night, you sneak up to the Big House again, when all is quiet across camp. The balls of light floating around the camp store allow you to sneak past without falling down the hill, grateful to see the lights of the house still on.

He must have been expecting that you couldn’t just get in bed and fall asleep with so many things on your mind. You climb the steps of the porch, and slide in slowly through the open doorway. It’s warm again tonight, the air is hot and humid, but inside the Big House it feels homely as ever, cool. Chiron stands, reading through an old and tattered book in his hands. He looks up when you walk in.

“Hi,” you say.

“It’s very late,” he replies, snapping the book shut. “You want to know if I’ve considered what you asked, don’t you?”

You nod. It’s not like you’d asked anything else. “But I want to know what happened to Chris Rodriguez, too. How Clarisse found him. Why he went down there.”

Chiron sighs, like he’s tired, and waves a hand to the couch. You don’t hesitate in taking a seat.

“It started after you left with Percy for the summer…”

You spend the remainder of the night flicking through all the books in the house, on Ancient Greece, the gods, Daedalus mainly. Chiron talks as you read, of how Clarisse blew up an entrance to the maze somewhere in the country, of how it simply moved a few yards away. He talks of Chris going insane from what he saw down there, from what Luke’s men had him do. Chris currently resides in the basement, the only place he feels safe enough without panicking to high heaven. He refuses to come out, but at least nothing can hurt him down there. Clarisse was scarred from the maze itself, and vowed never to step foot in there again. It makes sense—the few hours you were down there with Percy were creepy enough.

“I dreamed of Nico, and Percy did too. He’s trying to raise the dead, and someone is guiding or helping him or something,” you offer over a cup of hot tea and The Odyssey. You close the chapter on your mother. “He misses Bianca. Makes sense, but…he needs help.”

“The boy is troubled,” he agrees. “He has been led astray.”

“We can get him back. He doesn’t have to end up in trouble. You thought Percy was the only child of the Big Three who would make a mess of things. Then Thalia turned up, and left. But now there’s Nico; do you really want him running loose, led astray?” Chiron tilts his head. “We all heard about the ‘dangers’ of the children of those three. Although I really doubt Percy could wreak havoc. He misses his mouth when he eats pizza.”

Chiron laughs, but it’s missing something. Does he think of all your failures in the past? Is that why he doesn’t want you to go on this quest? You wouldn’t blame him, because all you’ve done so far is evade your own death and cause other people’s. Not directly, but your choices spurred theirs. At least that’s how it feels.

“I know you think I’m not right for this, but I need you to trust me.”

“It isn’t that you’re not right for this,” he deflects. “It’s that things in our world are getting worse, and sending heroes off to fight these battles have more risks than before. You know what happened to Chris and Clarisse. I’d like to avoid that from happening to anybody else.”

“Well, sometimes we can’t change fate. What’s meant to be is meant to be.”

It’s like you’ve shot him. He stills, blanching. Chiron recovers his expression quickly, and gives you a tense smile. “You should go, now. It’s been a long day for you.”

After breakfast, Chiron called a council meeting. You and Percy headed down together, chatting about what it could be. A distraction, obviously—you both knew what it would be about. You met up with everyone in the training arena, compared to the usual meeting at the ping pong table. Mrs O’Leary chewed on a giant dog toy, bounding around the arena as you discussed the fate of everything.

Juniper the tree nymph accompanied Grover, Travis and Connor sat beside each other, Charles Beckendorf and Silena, and Lee Fletcher, a son of Apollo. Quintus and Chiron, by the sword racks, led the meeting at first, passing over to Clarisse and Beckendorf for input.

Finally, they turned it on you. Clarisse, addressing you properly for the first time, demanded your thoughts. “What do you think about this?”

You inhaled, sitting up straighter on the bench. All eyes turn to you, listening intently. “I think Luke knows about the entrance to the Labyrinth, and he’s probably known for a while. Think back years ago to when Percy was poisoned; the monster came out of nowhere, and so did Luke. The maze moves—maybe he lost it for a while, hasn’t used it since. But he’s definitely trying to get back inside camp, now, using the maze. He was here longer than anyone, wasn’t he? He probably knows it like the back of his hand.”

“The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it.”

You raise an unimpressed brow to Juniper. “You knew about this? And haven’t said anything?!”

Juniper’s youthful face turned green in embarrassment. “I didn’t know it was important. Just a yucky old cave.”

You see Chiron rub his hand over his forehead in stress, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing—Luke’s been doing this under his nose for years it sounds like.

“She has good taste,” Grover defends.

“I wouldn’t have paid any attention, except…it was Luke,” she blushes further. You wave your hand in her direction, somewhat agreeing. Luke might have been good-looking, but he’s still a psycho.

Grover huffs. “Forget what I said about good taste.”

Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. “Interesting. And you believe this young man, Luke, would use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?” He raised his eyes to you.

“Definitely,” Clarisse came to your defence. “If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just have ‘em pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about the camp’s boundaries, we don’t stand a chance. He could wipe the place out easy. Probably been planning it for a while. He’s been sending scouts into the maze. We found one. You know…”

“Chris Rodriguez,” you mumble.

“Ah, the one in the…”

“The one in the what?” Asks Percy.

Clarisse glared at him. “The point is, Luke has been searching for a way to navigate the maze. He’s looking for something.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Probably Daedalus’s workshop.”

Percy shifted beside you. “The guy who created the maze.”

You hum in response. “He’s considered the greatest architect of all time. If the legends are actually true, his workshop should be in the centre of the maze. Except…the maze always changes so…where’s the centre meant to be. If Luke managed to find it, he could easily convince Daedalus to help him navigate his own creation.”

“The thing is,” adds Clarisse. “He wouldn’t have to stumble around watching for people or traps. He could navigate and go anywhere he wants safely. First to Camp, and then—well, Olympus.”

The arena turned very silent. Mrs O’Leary even grew quiet. Beckendorf straightened up on the bench, running a strong over his face. “Hold up. You said convince Daedalus. I thought Luke was—kicked off a cliff? Isn’t Daedalus dead? Shouldn’t Luke, in theory, be very dead?”

Your jaw drops. How stupid can you be? You chide yourself, looking at Chiron for some guidance. He’s watching you too, but doesn’t offer any sort of help.

“In theory, they both should be dead. Extremely, extremely dead. Uh—but Luke is not. Definitely not. And Daedalus…well, nobody really knows. People have said that towards the end of his life, he went down into his maze and stayed there. Others have said different. There are a lot of uh, disturbing rumours, stories. But long story short, he might still be down there.”

You’re aware of Travis staring at you from the other side, but you can’t bring yourself to look. You’ve barely spoke to him thus far, for being so caught up in everything. “We have to go into the maze. We have to find this workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we can convince him to help us, not Luke. If, for some miracle Ariadne’s string still exists too, we make sure it doesn’t fall into Luke’s hands.”

“Why don’t we just blow up the maze?” Came Percy. “Block Luke off from the outside?”

You give him a gentle look. “Clarisse tried. The maze just moved.”

“It’s not so easy, stupid,” Clarisse snapped. “We tried in Phoenix. The best thing to do is to stop Luke from navigating it. Which means, we get down there first.”

“We could fight,” Lee said. “We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a line of defence and wait for the army to come through. We’ll be ready, waiting.”

“We will certainly set up a defence,” agrees Chiron. “But Clarisse is right. The best thing to do is for our side to move first. If they come through here…we won’t have enough to defeat them.”

You stand. “We have to get to Daedalus’s workshop first, then. Find Ariadne’s string, stop Luke from getting it.”

“But if nobody can navigate it,” Percy reached for your elbow, getting your attention. “What chance do we have down there?”

“I’ve been reading about it. I know more than we did before. We’ll be fine.”

“From reading about it?”

You clenched your teeth. “Yes.”

“That’s not gonna be enough.”

“It’s gonna have to be.”

“It isn’t!”

“Are you gonna help me or not?” You exclaim. You’re suddenly aware of everyone watching, listening to you argue. Mrs O’Leary violently ripped the head off her toy—EEEEEK.

Chiron cleared his throat. “First thing’s first. We need a quest.” Your heart stopped. “Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Luke from using the maze to invade.”

“Well,” Clarisse waved a hand in your direction. “We all know who should lead this. She’s got my vote.”

Much to your surprise, there was a murmur of agreement. Under the watchful eyes, you shift on your feet, hip to hip, uncomfortable, edging back to near Percy. “But you’ve done loads for this, too. You should be a part of it.”

Clarisse shook her head. “I’m not going back in there.”

Travis barked a laugh. “Chicken, Clarisse? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

She got to her feet, cheeks aflame, and visibly shaking. She pointed in Travis’s face. “You don’t understand anything, you hear me? I’m never going in there again.” She stormed out of the arena.

Travis sheepishly voiced, “I didn’t mean to—”

Chiron raised his hand. “The poor girl has had a difficult time. Now, do we all agree who should lead this quest?” Everyone nodded, every hand went up. You scarcely believed your eyes. Travis offered you a tiny hint of a smile, albeit a nervous one. Chiron, at last, turned to you directly. “Very well. My dear, it’s time you visit the Oracle. Assuming you return to us in one whole piece, we will discuss what will happen next.”

You’ve been up in the attic before. You spent the whole month before the summer break trying to get the mummy to talk to you. You don’t stop to offer assistance to Clarisse in calming down a frantic Chris in the basement, crying his heart out. Instead, you place your hand on the banister and trail up the four flights, to the attic where the Oracle sits waiting. You wind up the narrow set all the way to the top, an attic full of relics of years passed from heroes who passed through the same walls.

You walk slowly over the dusty floorboards, to the window behind the Oracle, and you watch for a little while the figures in the distant training arena, one figure in particular pacing nervously. Percy, pacing up and down the arena. You absentmindedly pull on the ends of your hair, before moving back and turning to the mummified girl, who seems to know what you want before you open your mouth. The room grew darker, and dark green fog spilled from the Oracle’s mouth. She came to life in a way you’ve seen only once before, this time just as scary as the last when she’d wandered out of the house. Her eyes open, dark, broken holes, and she spills the prophecy you’ve waited so long for.

You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze,

The Traitor, the Dead and the Lost one raise.

You shall rise or fall by the Ghost King’s hand,

The child of Athena’s final stand.

Destroy with a hero’s final breath,

And may lose a love to worse than death.

Cheery.

You want to grab the nearest baseball bat and scream. The child of Athena’s final stand? Worse than death? Why, oh why, did nothing work out for you? Frustrated tears burn your eyes. You’re unable to stop them, a sudden fear at your line, undoubtedly. You find yourself lowering to the floor, where you sit for a while, trying to think. You can’t make anything positive out of this one. Somewhere downstairs, the floorboards creak, and you jump to your feet, dust scattering in the air. You wipe your hands across your cheeks ridding them of tears and give yourself a minute to calm down before you tear out of the attic, back down to the arena. You must look a little out of touch, or something.

“My dear,” Chiron says. “You made it!”

You find your spot next to Percy on the bench, collapsing heavily and stare at the floor.

“Well?” Asked Quintus.

Turning your head ever so, you look at your best friend, who sits wide-eyed and waiting for you to say anything. “I got the prophecy. So…I’ll lead the quest to find Daedalus’s workshop.”

Chiron scraped a hoof against the floor. “What exactly did the prophecy say, my dear? The wording is important.”

Taking a deep breath, “Uh…well—it said you shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze…the dead, the traitor and the lost one raise—”

Grover perked up. “That’s Pan!” He proclaimed. “It has to be!”

“With the dead and traitor,” Percy, ankle touched yours. “Not so much.” I’m here, his touch said. I’m listening.

“And? What is the rest?”

“You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand, the child of Athena’s final stand.”

The murmur of excitement dropped. Everyone looked uncomfortable. Because you are the daughter of Athena attending.

“Hey, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions!” Silena urged sweetly. “You’re not the only child of Athena, it could be anybody!”

“But who’s this ghost king?” Beckendorf asked.

You had your suspicions, alright.

“Are there more lines?” Asked Chiron. “It doesn’t sound complete.”

That’s because it’s not. “Um, something about destroy with a hero’s final breath.”

“And?”

Feeling suddenly tired, you stand to make your point. “Look, I have to go in. I’ll find the workshop and I’ll stop Luke. I need help, though…” He must have expected it. Was that not why he was pacing, earlier? Percy’s bright eyes did not waver, set on your own. “Will you help me?” The last line worried you, but doing this without Percy worried you more. You didn’t think you could do it without him.

He didn’t even hesitate. “I’m in.”

You smiled. “And Grover. You, too. You need to find Pan, and we’ll need your help.”

“I’ll pack extra recyclables for snacks!”

“Two companions,” assured Chiron. “Are you sure on your final choice?”

You nod. You want to take Annabeth, too, but you’re not risking more than three ever again. Not this time. Not when the prophecy talks of a child of Athena’s last stand. You won’t do it to her. “Mhm.”

“Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, you will enter the Labyrinth.”

You tried not to cry again, you really did. But the lines were going round and round in your head, and the sudden hurry to go make a new weapon was nagging, and you couldn’t find your spare flashlight, and packing your things made you doubt you could do this. Which was why when he called out from the doorway, you melted. You paused looking through the wall of books for anything that could help you along the way.

“Knock knock?” He tapped on wood.

You turn to him, putting down the books on the side. “Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you.”

“You okay?”

“Just trying to do some more research, find something useful. Just in case. But, uh, nothing can seem to agree on anything. So…yeah. I know a bit but I just feel like we need more.”

He closed the door with a small thud, coming closer. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry so much.”

It’s all you ever do. Does he know you’re always on high-alert? Does he know you’re overthinking?

You shift on your hip, rubbing your hand over your arm. “I wanted this so badly.”

Percy’s bright green eyes keep you balanced, and he smiles reassuringly. “I know. You’re gonna do great.”

You’re so grateful to him. “I’m just worried I’ve made the wrong decision. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. Or Grover.”

“Hey, we’re your friends. We trust you. We wouldn’t want to miss this.”

You shakily exhale, throat closing up. Uh oh. “It’s just…” you almost gag as the words get stuck. Percy’s smile fades, replaced with a concerned frown.

“What is it? Is it the prophecy?”

You gulp. “I’m sure it’s fine,” you utter quietly.

“What was the last line?”

You squeeze your eyes shut before the tears can hurt anymore, and without any thought, you hold your arms out to him. And he comes right to you, just holding you. He’s warm and a solid figure in a shaky world. Percy’s hand awkwardly pats your back, and you can’t help the way you squeeze your arms around him.

“Hey,” he mumbles. “It’s—it’s okay.”

You’re shivering. He smells soapy, and cotton fresh, yet distinctly boyish. You shove your face into his shoulder and hope he doesn’t feel the tears soak in his shirt.

“It sounds weird,” you muffle into his shirt. “But I know this is right. I need you and Grover with me. It feels right.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” he sighs. “We’ve had plenty of problems before and we solved them all, right? We can do it this time too.”

“This is different. I don’t want anything happening to you.” You slip up. “Or to Grover. Or me.”

“Try not to worry so much,” he pats your back a final time. “We’re gonna be alright. We’ve got each other.”

When you finally part, Percy avoids your gaze, trailing his fingers across the maps laid out across the table you stand beside. “About your prophecy…the line about a hero’s last breath—”

You wipe your nose. “You want to know which one of us. I don’t know, Percy.”

“No, something else. You didn’t give us the last line, earlier. Hero’s breath should rhyme with the last line. Was it something like—did it end in death?”

You stare with hot eyes at the book on the table. “You should go, Percy. Pack your things. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He stands quietly for a moment, before putting his hands in his pockets. “Okay,” he says. “Just…try to sleep. See you tomorrow.” And he leaves you standing there to think about what you’ve done.

It’s easier said than done. You manage archery that afternoon, and news spreads pretty quickly of what’s coming tomorrow. Annabeth brings you back some food from dinner, and helps you pack your bag. Your siblings wish you good luck, Malcolm saying he’ll pray for you. Annabeth provides you with an extra flashlight, and then Clarissa, which makes three. You don’t know how long you’ll be down there, she says. It makes your stomach churn even more. You set out your outfit for tomorrow and pack a good few. The brief time in the maze the other evening was cold, so you lay out a pair of jeans, a tee and a jacket.

You lay in bed that night and raise your hand to pull back the curtain above your head, watching the stars. It might be the last time you ever see them.

When morning comes, you find yourself gearing up to go, after breakfast, backpack over your shoulders, accompanied by Annabeth past the cabins and into the woods, where the entrance last was. People had set up tents and would take it in turns to watch over the entrance, should anyone come through. Percy and Grover already stood waiting when you turned up, Chiron and Quintus standing with terse smiles.

“Good morning!” Chiron tried to be upbeat, but you couldn’t help the nerves. You couldn’t even smile. “You’re all here, at last.”

You want to tell him you’re shaking to your very core with nerves. You don’t.

“Take care,” Chiron offered. “And good hunting.”

“You too,” Percy nodded.

You follow after Percy and, after a few brief words from Chiron, a goodbye from your friends, and a last look at the woodlands, you find yourself facing the darkness.

“Goodbye sunshine,” said Grover miserably. You trudged forward after Percy, dropping down into the eery space that was the uninviting maze. “Hello rocks…”

It’s not unfamiliar in feel, only in…sight. Where the walls were brick last time, and cool to the touch, they’ve changed to smooth stone, dewy and threaded with hanging vines. Under your feet, tough ropes of them tangle and lead down the pathway.

Beside you, Percy breathes out slowly. You hear Grover’s teeth chattering, and your flashlight provides a good look at your billowing breath in the cold hall. You’ve inside, now, fully—the opening above has disappeared, closed up, and your friends are gone. You’re alone in here, the three of you, and already the claustrophobia is suffocating.

“Alright,” you start, sounding more positive than you feel. “Anyone have any suggestions, first, or can I just lead the way?”

“Lead the way!” Grover prompted. “Because I haven’t any idea what we’re doing.”

“That’s lovely, Grover, thank you for that.” You take the first step in the darkness, voice echoing. You shine your flashlight around, doing a quick circle of your surroundings.

“Oh, damn, it’s like something from a horror movie.”

“And thank you for that, Percy,” you smile sardonically. “Keep your eyes peeled for any clues.”

“This isn’t the crystal maze,” he laughs.

“I think I’ll give you over to the monsters personally.”

You really tried to keep your place in the maze. Left, left, straight on, down the slope, left again…you only got about a hundred or so metres before you were hopelessly, completely lost. Nothing looked at all as it had last time, as if you’d entered a completely different part of the maze. You backtracked following your memorised turnings, but stopped at a dead-end; the maze had changed completely in such a short amount of time. It was scary, and you could feel anxiety threatening to swallow you up, suffocating with every turn. Because not only were you terribly lost with a jittery Grover humming a tune every five minutes, but you’d forgotten about the threat of monsters around every corner, and the possibility of getting split up down here.

“So, new idea,” you voiced. The three of you stopped for rehydration, the tunnel growing warmer the further you walked. “I say we stick to the left wall. That way we aren’t getting split up, and we’re not losing contact with the wall itself, so it cant physically change.”

Percy nodded, raising his hand to your head and dunking you in light spirits. “Good idea.” He quickly lost his sense of humour when, shortly after voicing the brilliant idea, the left wall literally fell away, the bricks disappearing as if they were never there. “Well then.”

You kept walking the long hallway, changing from that of a metal container to a red-brick chamber, with holes in the ground every few steps. It was like playing a dangerous game of hopscotch, except you really didn’t want to relax. At the end of it you entered a round room, with eight different tunnels open and looming branching off the main circle you found yourselves in. Behind you, you watched with your own eyes as the entrance changed from red brick to yellowing, floral wallpaper and rotting wainscoting groaning quietly. Queasiness irritated you. You ran your hands through your hair with a stressful sigh.

“Which way did we even come in?” Grover hummed uneasily.

“Just go back. Turn around the way we came.”

Except, now it had changed, everything blended into one, a huge confusing mess, and nobody could decide on what to do or where to go. You swept your flashlight over the eight tunnel archways, like train tunnels, but none of them offered any differences…at first glance, anyway. Finally, you closed your eyes and stopped the flashlight—opening your eyes, you’d stopped the light on the left-middle tunnel. “That one.”

Percy entered your line of sight, looking unsure. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged. “Deductive reasoning.”

He gagged on a laugh. “So you’re guessing?”

Readjusting your backpack, you nodded to the tunnel and took off. “Just come on.”

You’d never do anything by chance again. The tunnel soon got so low and cramped that the concrete walls pressed against your shoulders your hips, bent over and trying not to hyperventilate. Unfortunately, Grover wasn’t doing the same thing. His erratic breathing happened to be the loudest thing in the tunnel.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” he whispered. “Are we nearly there yet?”

You had to admit that you were getting fed up with it as well. Percy remained quiet and composed—once, he smacked his head on the ceiling and bit back a series of words.

“We’ve been down here, like, five minutes,” you offered. “Calm down.”

“Why would Pan even be down here anyway?” He rambled. “I mean, look how dark it is! This is disgusting. What does the god of nature want with a place this dank? This is the opposite of wild!”

Just when the tunnel became so narrow you were about to call it quits, it spilled open into a huge room full of old mosaic tiles in golds, reds and blues, like something from an old Greek book in the Big House. And it was Greek—upon closer inspection with the tiles closest to you, they showed a myriad of images of the gods: Aphrodite in a white chiffon, all done up pretty; your mother in battle, wearing all gold; Ares in feast, at a table drinking dark wine. You leaned in closer, running your fingertip along the pictures.

“This is beautiful.” You straightened up. The ceiling, though dirty and dark, glittered in gold and silver, and an ornate three-tier fountain sat empty in the middle of the room.

“What is this place?” Asked Percy, tilting his head back to look up. “Ancient Greek?”

“Looks like it. Kinda reminds me of Olympus, the last time we were up there.”

“Before you guys came to camp,” Grover joined you, looking around. “We went up to Olympus in winter, before the solstice. Only the grounds but…it was amazing. Looked a lot like this.”

“How can it be here, though?” Asked Percy, “it’s so…out of the blue.”

“The labyrinth is like a patchwork blanket. It grows itself, decorates itself—it doesn’t end.”

“You’re making it sound like it’s alive.”

“It basically is, Percy. Look around.”

“Can we stop talking about it being alive, please?” Begged Grover. A groaning noise came from the tunnel before you. “Oh no,” he moaned.

“Alright,” you said, “onward.”

“Down that way with the noise?” Grover grimaced.

“Exactly that way. Things are looking older so…maybe that’s the way to Daedalus’s workshop. Since he’s old and…whatever. Shouldn’t the workshop be in the oldest part of the maze?”

Logically, it made sense. Literally, it didn’t. The maze didn’t abide by any rules of thumb. The maze soon went back to playing with you (and your sanity) as it turned into modern caves decorated in spray paint, and then a restaurant-esque room full of gleaming mirrors. Every few feet, the maze changed, the tunnels shifted, and the floor beneath your feet turned from cement to metal and back to cement again. Through a wine cellar Dionysus would adore and out into a basement, you were slowly losing your mind. It didn’t matter how much you backtracked or memorised, the maze just didn’t care, and kept changing, changing, changing. At one point, standing in a wooden warehouse, you could have sworn you heard voices on the floor above, but then again, you’d been down here for far too long.

The first skeleton you found appeared far too quickly for your liking.

“Oh, man!” You waved a hand in its direction. “Should we consider this a marker? We’re so far into the maze we’ve got dead bodies?”

Grover gagged. “Milkman!”

“What?”

“A milkman,” he reiterated. “They used to deliver milk.”

“Thank you, Mister. Obvious,” Percy smirked. “But that was like…a million years ago. What’s he doing down here?”

You shrug. “Some people just wander in and get lost. Like us, I guess. Some probably come exploring on purpose and never make it back. In fact, like a bazillion years ago the Cretans sent people in here as sacrifices.”

Grover gulped. “He’s been down here a loooong time.” The skeleton’s hands were frozen clawing at the wall, like he’d died being dragged. “And it smells of monsters down here, too.”

“Well, they’re probably everywhere down here.”

“Yeah…sure smells close, though.”

“We can’t just abandon ship, guys,” you try, “we need to head deeper into the maze. There’s definitely a way to the centre, we’re just going about it the wrong way.”

Percy cleared his throat, prompting your attention. “Maybe there isn’t a right way,” he suggested with a shrug. “I mean, it is a maze, and you said it’s always changing. Maybe the workshop moves with it?”

You hum, and try hard not to think that he might be right. “Nah. We’ll find it. We’re close to something; I can feel it.”

You could, in actual fact, feel the upcoming challenge the way your demigodly instincts always helped you to, like a weird feeling up your spine, a lingering over your shoulders. Your stomach was tightening just as you crawled through a metal air shaft, and came out…

In the tile room. Again.

Getting to your feet with a groan, aching from the constant ducking and diving, you almost yelled in anger.

“We’re just going ‘round in circles!” You yelled and span in one to get your point across. Percy came up after you, casually at first, and then Grover. Percy paled. Grover shrieked.

Spinning on your heels, you weren’t the only ones in this room anymore. You screamed, scrambling to shove yourself behind Percy, back-to-back. You fumbled around for your dagger.

A Greek hero, or what was left of him, sat at the fountain. He wore old armour, bronze and gold, only it was rusted with something you didn’t want to think about. His gold-blond hair lay messed and thick, like he couldn’t stop pulling on it. He lacked an eye, a wound, and looked like he’d been in agony for a very long time. The stuff of nightmares, honestly. A Greek horror.

The personification of struggle.

Percy stiffened at your back. His hand raised and caught your forearm, fingers tight around you, shaking.

“Come on!” A voice like honey drawled, though it was thick with sadness and triumph together. “You guys…what are you doing? You’re going through wrong way, you know. Turn back.”

You couldn’t turn back. You’d already made that mistake. He was trying to confuse you, that’s all. His voice grew louder and more aggressive, more persuasive, and got closer. You tried to block him out, and slow your heart rate. In your mind, you thought of all the songs you loved, humming the lyrics.

“Hey!” You heard Percy. “Leave her alone. Leave us alone.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Riptide was drawn. You really hoped you didn’t have to fight this guy. Though he was obviously an old spirit, or an old and minor god, you didn’t doubt he was powerful. Being down here was a nightmare enough without having to fight.

“Poor thing,” he drawled, like you would a hurt puppy. “Weak, bitter. But persistent. Only hurt lies ahead, you know? You can turn around, now,” he called your name. Percy’s fingers danced along your arm, a distraction. Being under fire made your skin crawl, and the aggression in the hero’s tone had brought on an anxious stomach ache.

Percy raised Riptide. Just when you thought you were done for, a scalding light filled the room, like a floodlight had suddenly appeared. Your heart skipped way too many beats; Grover raised his hand to shield his eyes. When the light died off, you kept your eyes shut.

“Are you causing trouble for these heroes?” A woman’s voice called into the terrible scene. You slowly unclenched your jaw, opened your eyes slowly, and shifted to peek around Percy’s shoulder, ever so slightly inching so you didn’t see the bloodied Greek. She stood tall and proud, beautiful brown curls the colour of chocolate dancing down her spine in a long braid threaded with gold ribbon. The plain, white dress she wore turned to rainbow when she moved, and you thought of oil on a river, the way it moves under sunlight, shimmering. Her milky skin was flawless, and you had the sudden feeling that you knew this woman, somehow.

His voice, mellowed now, shook. “No, milady!”

Liar. You exhaled shakily.

“I see,” she crooned. “Well, you’ll let them be on their way then, yes? You’ll leave them be, from now on? Leave these heroes to me. You’re creating unease.”

The woman turned to face you, Grover and Percy, and made direct eye contact with you first. She smiled, and it was like taking a chill pill, a strange and sleepy calm that washed over you. Whether the boys felt it too, you couldn’t say, but you were glad of it. The anxiety fell away, your heart slowed, and you became aware of the grip you had taken on Percy’s jacket, at the base of his spine, scrunched between your fingers.

“You must be hungry,” she nodded. “Come. Sit with me, let’s talk.” She waved a perfect hand, and the room came to life. Candelabra chandeliers lit in warm yellow, and the dirt fell away from the room. The fountain sprung to life, trickling water, and a pretty table and chairs set appeared waiting, the length of the table filled to the brim with sweet sandwiches cut in small triangles, and tiny plates holding delicately decorated chocolates.

You didn’t realise you’d gotten so hungry. How long hadn’t you eaten for? Time passed so different here, it could have been a whole day, or two. Grover got right to pouring the lemonade, adorned with fresh strawberries, gulping it down like he’d never taken a sip of it before. Understandable, in your eyes.

Gradually, you unclenched your stiff fingers from Percy’s jacket, hand falling away. “Who are you?” He asked, approaching the table.

You didn’t sit like the boys, but instead reached for a sandwich, and then another, and another, and another. Standing opposite each other, you blinked as she spoke with pretty, gentle eyes.

“I am Hera,” she smiled. “Queen of Heaven.”

Ah. That’d be the familiarity, then. Godly hierarchy. You didn’t feel unnerved up close to her, but so much more relaxed than before. She took the pitcher of lemonade from your still-shaking hands with the gentleness of a mother, and you didn’t even stop her from pouring you a glass. You thanked her quietly, and she reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked, lacking formality. Hera hummed softly, before snapping her fingers out of the blue. Instantly, you got cleaned up—your hair fixed itself without effort, feeling cleaner and less sweaty, tied back in a low bun. The dirt abandoned your clothes. The sweat and dirt cleaned off of your face.

“I came to see you, naturally,” she replied. The boys at the table shared a look.

You frown heavily. “I thought—I didn’t think you really liked heroes. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

Something changed about her, but you struggled to place it. She waved a perfect hand. “Oh, water under the bridge! Because of the little…spat, with Hercules? Goodness, so long ago. I had so much bad press because of one little argument!”

You wouldn’t call attempted murder an argument, but hey-ho. You can’t stop the words flowing out of your mouth. “Didn’t you try to kill him, though?”

Hera laughed, though it wasn’t funny at all. She flicked an imaginary piece of dust from her dress. “Oh, dear, no. Greek myths, am I right? Hercules was my husband’s son by another woman; my patience ran thin, I’ll admit. But Zeus and I have come out the other side, we have an understanding. Especially since that last incident.”

Percy choked on his sandwich, red in the cheeks. You bug-eyed him, a warning. Hera dropped her hand from your hair where she’d been, dare you say it, admiring you. It wasn’t uncommon—your family’s friends and even strangers commented on your luckiness. You wanted to call it more of a curse.

“You mean when Thalia came into the picture?” Percy just couldn’t help himself. Hera’s eyes turned frostily on him.

“Ah, Percy Jackson, isn’t it? One of Poseidon’s…children. As I recall, I voted to let you live at the Winter Solstice. I hope I chose correctly.”

She turned away, like Percy wasn’t worth her time, and her eyes shone like she’d hit diamonds on you. It wouldn’t be a good idea to shy away from a goddess, any of them, never mind Hera, so though you didn’t particularly like the attention or extra care that she wasn’t providing the boys, you didn’t move away. Who knew what dire consequences she’d send your way? Grover spied you looks every few seconds, like making sure you were alright.

A sunny smile plagued her. “Anyway, I bear you no ill will, my girl. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have old Greek troublemakers to deal with. Brave girl.” Brave, though you hid like a child.

“Why was he here?” You shoved a chocolate in your mouth. “I felt like I was dying.”

“Hmm, he likes to do that. The minor gods…they enjoy causing trouble, scaring young heroes. The minor gods, you three must understand, have always despised the very small roles they play. Some I fear have little love for our Olympus, and can easily be swayed to support the rise of my father.”

Kronos. Luke’s new best friend.

“We have to watch the minor gods. They give lip to Olympus, and yet—”

“That’s where Dionysus went!” Exclaimed Percy. “He was checking on the minor gods.”

“Indeed.” Hera stared at the fountain. “You see, in times of trouble such as these, even gods lose faith. They put their trust in the wrong things. Petty things, should I say. They stop looking at the bigger picture and turn selfish. But I’m the goddess of marriage; I’m into persistence and perseverance. You have to rise above the arguing and chaos. You have to keep your goals in mind, demigods.” Spoken like a proud soccer mom.

“What are your goals?”

“To keep my family together, of course! The Olympians. Right now, the best way to do that is by helping you—the ringleader of the quest! Zeus does not allow me to interfere too much I’m afraid, but once every century or so for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish.”

Like something from a Disney movie. You’re Cinderella, and she’s the fairy godmother.

“A wish?”

“Before you ask it, darling, let me give you some advice. I know you seek Daedalus. His labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you! But if you wish to know his fate, you should visit my son at his forge. Daedalus was a brilliant inventor, there has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would know about Daedalus’s whereabouts, it’s Hephaestus.”

You consider this carefully. For anything, you could wish anything at all. But…

“How do we get there, then?” You ask. “That’s what I wish for. I want a way to navigate this maze.”

Hera’s shoulders drooped, and she looked disappointed. “So be it. But you ask for something that has already been given, I’m afraid.”

You blanch. “Huh?”

“The means is already within your grasp!” She spared a look over her shoulder…at Percy. “With him. Percy knows the answer.”

This time, you run cold. Unimpressed, you offer another, “What?” Percy sits up straighter in his seat, fumbling like a fish out of water.

“I do?” He panics.

“But you’re not telling us what it is,” you pry, being careful. “That’s not fair.”

Hera shook her head of pretty hair. “Getting something and having the wits to use it are two different things, darling. I’m sure your mother would agree.”

The floor vibrated as thunder rumbled from high above, reverberating all the way through. “That would be my cue,” Hera beamed. “Zeus is very impatient. Think on what I have told you,” she aimed at you, “locate Hephaestus, and the rest is smooth sailing! You’ll have to pass through the ranch I think, but don’t stop, and use all the means at your disposal…however common they seem.”

She pointed across the room, where two doors had appeared. They flung open, revealing two dark corridors.

“And one last thing,” she clasped her hands together. “Try not to run into any more troublemakers. The minor gods are unlikely to give you an easy time, and, well, I won’t be back. Farewell, my heroes. And good hunting, as they say!”

She waved a hand, and turned into a puff of white smoke. The food and the table disappeared, Grover and Percy falling off of imaginary chairs. The fountain stopped running, the walls turned grimy, and the room became dark again.

All that aside, you were pretty mad.

“What sort of help?…”

“Well,” said Grover. “She said Percy knows the way. That’s something at least.”

You round on your friend, whose cheeks are pink. “But I don’t!” He protests. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. Honest.”

You sigh deeply. “Alright. Whatever. Which way now, then?”

“Left,” said Grover, getting to his feet and hurrying along to the entry. “Because I hear something big coming from the right.”

Percy caught your wrist in his hand. “Left sounds good. I vote left.”

Together, you disappeared into the dark corridor.

AYO what do we think of this one then? Honestly I got a bit stuck, but I think it turned out alright. I had to replace Janus with my imagination (though after the day I’ve had it’s LACKING) because he creepy fucker scares me as much as the cat in the hat does.

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