#this was by far the longest oneshot I’ve ever written

[dabislittlemouse]

what if you confessed to dabi first?

─ ⊹ ⊱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ⊰ ⊹ ─

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Word count: 5.2k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Contains: Dabi x fem!reader, complicated feelings, angst with happy ending, slight of injuries

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ A/N: The picture above is taken by me. The handwriting is mine. It was a love letter I had written for Dabi when I was on my feelings.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Recommended song: Lana Del Rey- Blue Jeans

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Tags: @shadowsandshapes @ko-konutty @shotos-rose @holydayaria @vicesthings

Reblogs would be appreciated!

You couldn’t exactly remember the moment when, or how you ended up in this situation, where your mind was so empty and your heart was so full  it didn’t even feel yours anymore, but his. Though here you were. You had fallen hard for your raven haired comrade with those piercing blue eyes, as intense as those threatening flames licking his fingertips and ready to take down everything without mercy. Just the way his eyes took your soul away without mercy as well, made it his forever, turned your brain mush to the point he was the only thought in your mind. And the worst of it, he didn’t do this on purpose, at all. As far as you noticed, you were the fool in here, getting so obsessed with him to the point it drained you from the inside, so madly in love you couldn’t understand why.

Maybe it was the way the sound of his voice gave you butterflies on your stomach, the uniqueness and attractiveness of the way he looked and dressed up, the smug smirk on his face and the teasing tone in his voice, the way he was the quietest among them all but the silence he held weighted a lot. A man of mysteries, a man with eyes that held many stories and pain behind them which you were dying to figure out. Maybe you were attracted to the unknown, but you knew it wasn’t just simple curiosity. Without him knowing, he had become your comfort person, staying with him in silence as you smoked on the balcony was what made you truly happy. Many unspoken words and overwhelming thoughts would suddenly disappear when you two stayed in the presence of each other. And without him knowing, he’d become the reason you were slowly going crazy. How did you even end up like this? You hated yourself for feeling this way, because you were more than sure that if the moment came to sacrifice someone, you’d sacrifice yourself for him. Die for him. You’d be more than ready to do so. 

You loved his little praises whenever you did good on missions. 

“Good girl”, “You did a great job” , “Well done”, “That’s it”.

Fuck, you were deep in this. The way you’d constantly ask him if there’s anything he needed, the way you’d follow him like a puppy on missions, ready to obey and follow his orders. He was the leader of the Vanguard Squad after all, the second in command after Shigaraki. And with a good reason too. Dabi was a strategic man, too clever for his own good, carefully going for the next step and make sure to outsmart the enemies. That was attractive to you. Everything this man did was attractive and it drove you crazier with each day.

He wasn’t a man of many words, but you remember one night how passionately he spoke about carrying Stain’s will and burning down hero society. He seemed so determined to reach his goals and not let any distractions get on his way.

Distractions..

That was the only reason why you hated yourself for falling for him, Dabi wasn’t someone who’d willingly get in relationships, right? Love, emotions, feelings, those would definitely distract him from his goals. It was an unspoken rule amongst villains, to never fall in love. Love would ruin everything, ruin missions that were so hard be executed, a distraction from what’s important. And you were an idiot, the way you’d be constantly daydreaming of Dabi and drooling over him when you should be training instead and be useful for the League. 

You tried to not be delusional, but you had noticed too how Dabi would talk more when you were around. He’d also call you during the night for a smoke outside the balcony, it had become almost a routine. It was the first time you’d listened Dabi talk about anything else other than heroes and society. This time he talked about songs, he even showed some of his favorite bands/artists to you, and you found yourselves having another thing in common. Music connected people, and this definitely bonded you even more with the villain. You’d sit there with him in silence, listening to his playlist, it felt more personal. The lyrics of these songs made you wonder what does he usually feel, what did he go through, but you chose to not ask further questions. You and him had become close, you could say friends.

But what you felt for him was more than friends. And that was eating you alive.

The fear of ruining what you had with him was weighing on you too. What if he got disgusted with you and ghosted you? What if he got angry? What if you’ll scare him away? You could even hear him calling you “pathetic” the moment you confess to him. You were scared. You had made up your mind to never confess to him.

But the desire to hold him in your arms, to hug him tight, to kiss his pretty face and those charred lips, it was burning you from the inside. You wanted him to be yours, as you were already his. Call it even selfish, but you wanted this man all to yourself, to love and cherish him until the day you die. The endless tears you’ve shed for him at the late hours of night spoke millions of words and feelings that you were too afraid to share with anyone. It was agonizing, your heart was bleeding and he didn’t know. 

You had to tell him. At least make it known to him that you’d be there for him, devoted to him until the day you gave your last breath. You’d let him use you in any way he wanted, only for him. And this won’t hurt him to know, right? You could help him achieve his goals.

It was one of the many usual nights out in the balcony, Dabi was next to you, puffing out smoke and holding the cigarette between his lithe fingers. A bottle of whiskey sat in the small table near you. It was your suggestion to bring it, Dabi was confused because you’d rarely drink but he let you be. 

“Not gonna drink that doll?” he said suddenly, the use of that nickname for you was so common but it gave you shivers everytime. 

“Oh yeah, almost forgot..” you laughed softly, almost too nervous. Dabi had noticed how lost you were on your thoughts lately, and he wished he could get inside that mind of yours and figure out what was keeping you on edge. It looked like you had something to say, but you’d remain silent, and this made him more frustrated. He watched you take a sip, wincing a bit at the taste of it as he chuckled.

“Careful, you ain’t used to that..”

“I know. But I’ll be fine” you say confidently, hoping that the drink’s effect will help you open your heart to him. Minutes passed, and you already felt your body lighter, your head a bit dizzy but suddenly it felt like you could talk to him now. The nervousness was still there, but faint. 

Come on, do it. Tell him

“Hey, you better say what you have in mind” Dabi exclaimed, making you squeal in your place. You didn’t know the way your mouth was moving, ready to speak but barely letting a word out, and that frustrated Dabi even more. What were you so afraid of? He thought that you two had gotten close to the point you’d both talk on various of topics, and he hated the way you were acting so scared and strange  towards him lately. It made him think he was doing something wrong, he tried to push those thoughts away and he hated how much you were in his mind. Never in his life had he cared so much for someone else, until pretty you came in his life, and he hated it.

“Okay okay..I’ll tell you..” you murmured, biting your lip as you turned at him, fully facing him now. Dabi’s face remained stoic, and you gulped nervously. 

Time to spill it out.

“Maybe you’ll think that I’m pathetic from what I’m about to say right now, maybe I am who knows, but fuck it..” you smiled, your face heating up as Dabi leaned closer and paid attention to each word you were saying. “I like you Dabi, a lot. And I care about you.. I think.. you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met..”

Dabi remained motionless but then a soft smile appeared on his face, he couldn’t lie when his heart felt a sudden warmth at your words. “Hm.. gettin’ all soft and sweet now doll? Not pathetic at all.. I gotta say I like ya’ too. We do go along well, better than with anyone else in my life..I could even consider ya’ as a good friend after all-”

A singular tear that rolled down your cheek made Dabi stop talking, his words caught in his throat. The only time he saw you cry is when you spilled up a bit from your past, and he hated that moment, he hated seeing you cry. Why were you crying again? Did he do something wrong?

“Dabi.. it’s not just that.. it’s more than that” you sniffed, trying to prevent more tears. “It’s not just.. friends. I truly like you.. it hurts. It’s just-”

Say the word.

It was stuck in your throat, prickling your skin and making you bleed, but you let it out. You felt pathetic, embarrassed, but at this point you let it all out. You couldn’t hold this any longer in your chest, you needed him. 

“Dabi.. I love you..”

Those words hit him harder than anything else ever did in his life.

“..so much..”

His brain fogged and his mouth got dry while those three words that nobody ever said to him in his life rang through his ears. It was shocking, it felt so unbelievable, how could anybody love him? How could you? You were perfect, an angel on this earth loving a monster like him? 

“Liar.”

“W-What? Dabi.. it’s not a lie..I swea-”

“What even makes you think I’m someone who you could love on, princess?” His voice came out harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t hold it back. The last time he devoted himself to someone, it costed him his life, costed him his body. Never again. Never again would he devote himself to someone, love someone to the point he burns. “What makes you think I can even feel love?!”

Your eyes widened, his words stabbed you like a sharp knife through your chest. You kinda knew the outcome, and yet you were never prepared. The hopes of having a relationship with him were turned to dust and that hurt you a lot. But you were desperate to know one last single thing.

“Do you.. feel anything for me at least? More than a friend? Just tell me..I won’t open this topic ever again I swear..”

Dabi stared at your teary eyes, the answer rolling on his tongue, threatening to slip out. The answer was yes, and it was eating him from the inside. Now that you made your feelings clear to him, he felt his feelings being cleared up too. He knew he felt too much for you no matter how much he tried to gaslight himself into thinking he didn’t. But Dabi never planned to stay alive for too long, and he’d rather get burned all over again than promise you a relationship which will get ruined by death, hurting you for eternity. He’d never consider himself a relationship kinda guy, he knew he’d hurt you. So, rather than give you hope, he simply denied his feelings towards you.

“No. Nothing at all” Dabi said coldly, face remained emotionless, a real actor that nobody could read him through his masks. “I’m focused on what’s important, on our mission, on my goals. I can’t let any distractions ruin this”

Only if you focused closely on those pools of turquoise, you’d notice the real feelings hidden behind his eyes, and the lies he was spilling. But sadly, you didn’t. His words had your vision blurry, it felt like you were choking on your own emotions, it was too much.

“Y-yeah. You’re right.. I’m sorry for making this awkward.. maybe it was the drink” you shrugged, trying to control yourself from sobbing pathetically right in front of him. “I must go rest.. it’s been a long day” 

“Hey..”

Before you left he grabbed your arm, and you hoped he would say that he didn’t mean it, that he was lying, that he also loved you back and wanted to be with you.

“Better not see you again like this. Erase whatever bullshit you’re feeling. This is villains life sweetheart, there are no feelings whatsoever between us. Get. That. Through. Your. Brain” he whispered through his teeth, eyes flaring and making you squirm in his hold. You simply nodded, not letting out a single word knowing you’d burst. This was the only amount of comfort you’d get from him, and you better not fuck things up  more than you had already. As you left, he sat back down, lighting a cigarette with his finger and sighing in frustration. Your tears and the way you shaked in front of him didn’t leave his mind, just like you he’d also fallen down into a rabbit hole which was so hard to come out of. Dabi was afraid of those feelings, it was something entirely new and he had to admit he felt scared. He was born a failure, what made you even think that he’d be a stable person in a healthy relationship with you? Dabi figured out that it will be for the best if he kept distance from you, until you eventually forgot about him and focused back on your goals. He felt guilty, after all you were a great asset to the League and a great person too, someone like you must not suffer from him. But if only he knew the love letters you’d written for him at the late hours of night, letters that you kept hidden, he’d understand that you could never forget him. He’d realize what you felt was pure love, something that never vanishes, something that will be on you forever. 

Weeks had passed and you noticed Dabi had been more absent lately. He was sent on missions by Shigaraki, and even when the leader didn’t need his service, Dabi still volunteered to do most of the work, which resulted into him being outside most of the time. You’d hoped he’d come back when the night falls, and then go smoke with him outside the balcony, but he never did. Dabi never came until the sunrise, you’d deprive yourself of sleep hoping he would come knock at your door or sent you a text message. None of that. You blamed yourself for it, if only you had kept your mouth shut he wouldn’t be distancing himself from you like this. 

“Hey Dabi..” you took the courage one of these days to talk to him as he was sitting on the bar, a drink on his hand. He turned around at the sound of your voice, soulless azure eyes staring back at you and making you shiver in their presence. He looked exhausted, clearly must’ve been back from a mission.

“What?” he murmured, almost sounding uninterested to talk to you right now and your chest hurt.

“Um, I’ll be out to smoke, I thought you might wanna join me as we-”

“Nah it’s fine. I’m tired, m’going to sleep” he interrupted you, forcing himself to stand up and heading for his room, his shoulder brushing past yours.

“Oh-okay..goodnight then” you whispered, biting the inside of your cheek and preventing the tears from forming in your eyes again.

At the same time, you felt angry. Why did he deny your feelings like this? Why is he behaving like this, even after you apologized that night? You never asked for a relationship and agreed to remain friends, just as you were, so why? You felt yourself going crazy, scrolling mindlessly on your phone and consuming whatever you could from social media to distract yourself from feelings, to find something to fill his absence, but no avail. Nothing and nobody could fill Dabi’s presence, he was everything to you. Your moods depended on him, if he gave you the right amount of attention you were happy, if he ignored you then you were sad. When you’d see him shine in his glory, surrounded by blue flames while beating enemies and wreaking havoc on the battlefield, you couldn’t help the admiration, the inspiration and determination that bloomed on your chest to fight for your goals and  for the cause of the League of Villains. And now that Dabi was gone? Everything in you was shattered, you were lost and couldn’t find yourself.

But you still tried, being on Shigaraki’s bad side wasn’t something you’d want to happen. Your current mission was to tame the giant beast Gigantomachia and force it into Shigaraki’s submission. As exhausting as this mission was, barely getting decent sleep, it still helped you take your mind off things and release all that pent up frustration on the giant monster. Dabi was nowhere to be seen, earlier he claimed to have found a potential recruit for the League, and that’s where he’d focus on. Even as he made himself present on the League discussions, he’d barely look at you, and it broke your heart over and over.

Though you never noticed the way he’d look at you when you weren’t paying attention, or when your back was facing him. Dabi looked at you the way a person looks to something or someone they’re dying to have on their grasp, to make them theirs forever, but knowing too well they’ll never be worthy of it and never handle it with care. 

———-

“They have Giran!” Twice exclaimed, sudden panic and worry filled all of you as the man who had recruited you and everyone else, was kidnapped and tortured in Deika city. Without a single hesitation Shigaraki decided to focus on saving Giran and end the man called Re-Destro, for simply having the audacity of threatening the League. 

It took a few good hours to make it to the destination, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Dabi joined as well.

“How did I agree to go along with such a stupid plan?” he scratched his neck. You noticed he was nervous, whenever he felt awkward, uncomfortable or nervous he would scratch his neck, something you’d learned by spending countless nights with him. It was clear he didn’t want to do this. But it was too late, everyone was aware of the League’s arrival and the attack began in less than one second.

The city was empty, but suddenly filled with what seemed many citizens devoted to Re-Destro’s cause, ready to attack mercilessly. All of you were scattered, trying your best to fight whoever came in your way. The city would light up in blue, a clear sign that Dabi had already begun grilling the enemies without mercy. You noticed a guy with a hood on was after him, apparently having an ice quirk.

Pathetic. How could ice ever put up with Dabi’s scorching flames? 

But you noticed, this icy guy’s tactics seemed more to be continuously attacking Dabi, not even full blown attacks, as if this was some child’s game, purposely to send Dabi into exhaustion. Dabi being the best at long rage attacks, would let the flames burst and burn everything on sight. 

“My quirk takes a toll on my body. If I use it too much, it harms me. A lot. I’m weak” he sighed,  that’s what he told you one night.

“No Dabi, don’t say that. You’re not weak, you just need the proper training for it! Your flames are the strongest I’ve ever seen” you said back, truly wanting him to change the opinion he had about himself. To you, he was one of the strongest people you’d ever seen, and you hated when he put himself down like that. 

As those words rang through your mind like warning bells, your eyes widened after noticing the way Dabi was panting and steaming smoke from his body. He looked exhausted, no matter how much he tried to stand up on his feet and seem that everything is alright. The icy bastard had drained his energy slowly with those attacks, and he seemed to have more in store than Dabi did in this moment. He was dodging every attack and melting all the ice coming his way, but his flames got weaker. You had to do something to help, you know what Dabi hated most was being seen as weak and being helped, but this didn’t matter right now.

Being surrounded by all the smoke, Dabi didn’t notice the giant ice spike flying towards him, the sharp point aiming right for his chest. But you did, you noticed it, and without thinking twice your legs moved,  sprinting towards him.

“Dabi!!!” you screamed.

“Huh?!” He turned around, looking at your running figure. “ Y/N what the hell are you-”

“WATCH OUT!”

It was a split second. Dabi turned around noticing the ice spike coming towards him with an unimaginable speed. Then in less than a second he found himself on the ground, head slammed hard against it as he struggled to stand up. What the hell just happened? As he raised his head up, the soul almost left his body at the pool of blood near him.

It was you. You pushed him away with all the force you had, which resulted into the ice spike piercing right through your stomach. Now you were on the ground, bleeding all over as you struggled to breathe.

“N-No, no…Y/N why the fuck! Hey!” he ran to you, his face gone pale as for the first time in his life he felt fear and panic. His hands were shaking. Just like that time in Sekoto when he thought he would die. But this time he wasn’t scared of his death, this time was much worse. He was scared of yours, the way you were bleeding too much to the point you could lose your life at any time.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck!” he cussed through his teeth, melting the ice spike and trying to do something to stop the bleeding. “Y/N stay with me- fuck stay with me”

“D-Dabi..”

“You’re an idiot- fuck, hhah you really are, aren’t you?” his voice was shaking, as he tried to neutralize the wound and wrap it up with a piece of clothing. Your vision was getting blurry and his voice felt far away.

“Hey, don’t you close your eyes on me goddamn it- Y/N!” he called you desperately, holding your face on his hands and rubbing your cheek. “Fuck why would you do this?! Why would you fucking do this?! You crazy idiot- fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry” 

Right under the scars of his eyes, tears of blood were slowly rolling down his cheek as he called for you to keep your eyes open. You tried your best, you did, but due to the loss of blood it was hard.

“Don’t you leave me- fuck, not now, please…” he begged, his chest felt too tight, he felt like going out there and burning the world for trying to take someone so precious from him. He felt the guilt eating him alive from ignoring you and your feelings and now you were almost giving your last breath on his hands. 

“Someone fucking come here! Compress! Toga! Shit, Y/N stay with me, you’re my strong girl yeah? You’ll be with me when we destroy this world yeah? Fuck!” 

His strong girl. A weak smile appeared on your face at this comment. Butterflies still managed to appear on your stomach despite from being injured badly. You weren’t sure if you could resist any longer without proper treatment, you whispered incoherently to him but he simply put his finger on your lips, shushing you to not force yourself into speaking and waste energy.

With both of his hands, he grabbed your face as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Y/N.. don’t you leave me alone, stay with me” he whispered. “Shit.. I love you, there. I’ve loved you the day I first laid my eyes on you, pretty girl. I should’ve said this sooner, fuck I’m so sorry Y/N..”

A singular tear rolled down your cheek, his confession suddenly gave your body enough energy and time to resist a bit longer until help came on your way. 

“D-Dabi.. the..letters..” you choked out, your teary eyes looking up at him. If you didn’t survive, he had to know that for once in his life he had been genuinely loved and admired, he needed to know exactly what you felt for him. He must read those letters.

“Huh, what letters?” he whispered softly, feeling a little relieved as Toga and the others were sprinting towards the both of you. Dabi was too focused on you to notice the destruction Shigaraki was causing further into the city centre.

“Here, let me treat her! I have enough blood!” Toga squealed, getting ready to treat you, luckily knowing the blood type you had. 

“She’ll survive, she is stronger than she looks” Compress said, trying to calm Dabi down as he was visibly shaking and distressed. If Toga managed to really save you, he’d promise to treat her with everything she wanted until he died. Hell, even kidnap that Uraraka girl just for her too. 

By now you had already dozed off, eyes finally shutting and all you could hear were the distant voices in the dark.

———

The day had finally ended, with Shigaraki’s victory against Re-Destro and his army. With Re-Destro finally recognizing Tomura as their supreme leader, their king, now the League of Villains had more benefits than they’ve ever had since the group was created. The first thing Tomura ordered was to get all you guys food and proper treatment for the injured, and get all of you nice and comfortable rooms to spend the rest of your days. As requested, Re-Destro gave access to his mansion on the mountains, getting all of you the best treatment and luxuries. 

You on the other hand, were still unconscious, but your life was saved. Toga had to admit that she thought you’d never make it from the major blood loss, but for some reason you survived and she didn’t understand how this was possible. Little did she know that Dabi’s confession gave your mind and body enough hope and energy, filled you with happiness and love to the point not even death could take it away from you anymore. That’s how strong your feelings for the villain were, you were ready to die for him, but also live for him too. 

It didn’t take long for you to open your eyes as you sat there on your bed, and you noticed a pair of raven fluffy hair next to you, which you recognized immediately. Dabi had been sitting by your bed the whole time, waiting for you to wake up, and now he had fallen asleep. You noticed his hand was holding yours, which made your heart feel warm and full. Gently you squeezed his hand enough to let him know that you were awake, and in a few seconds Dabi raised his head, sleepy azure eyes looking at yours.

“Y/N..” he whispered, not holding back the smile on his face as he saw you had finally woken up from your slumber. To him it felt like forever, like you’d been asleep for a long time and god, did he miss you. 

“Wow.. I’m still alive, unfortunately..” you joked as he chuckled, softly kissing your hand and making you blush. 

“Don’t say that..” he mumbled, his lips brushing on your knuckles. “You scared the living shit out of me, stupid girl..don’t do that again, y’hear me?”

“If I didn’t do that you’d probably end up dead..” 

“And so be it” he sighed. “I’m not worth dying for, believe me.. if you had died cause of me, I’d never forgive myself y’know, fuck..”

You noticed he was getting overwhelmed again, you risking your life took a toll on him.

“Hey.. I’ll die for you a million times if I have to..” you replied as his eyes widened. “Did you really mean that? What you said back there..”

Dabi got closer to you, brushing your cheek gently. “Yes, every single word..” he whispered. “I’ve fucked up, I should’ve told you that earlier.. but I was afraid y’know? I’m not cut for that kind of stuff, I can’t be decent for you. I’m a mess, Y/N”

“A hot mess..” you corrected him as he laughed softly. “I don’t think I’d have fallen for you if you weren’t a mess, Dabi. After all, I’m not any better either, I’m fucked up in the head. You’re more than decent for me”

“You’re fucking perfect, you’ve always been” he mumbled, squeezing your flushed cheeks gently. It felt like a great weight was lifted off his chest the moment he confessed back to you, he still thought that he didn’t deserve you, but he decided to not talk any further of that and just admire you instead.

“Hmm.. you said something about letters back there?” Dabi asked, as you looked at him confused. Then it hit you, your face turned red as you looked away from him.

“Nothing”  you said. 

“Look at me..” he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Do not hide things from me pretty girl..what are those letters?”

“Ugh Dabi it’s cringe, I’m not showing you any of those letters..” you squealed, embarrassment washing all over you. “It was just.. when I’m usually overwhelmed I write things down on paper.. and those letters were.. well, for you” 

Dabi remained speechless as you looked everywhere but him, swallowing nervously the moment his shit eating grin appeared on his face.

“Oh shut the fuck up..” you scoffed, hitting him gently on the chest as he chuckled.

“Damn, since when does a bastard like me get love letters? You’re so fucking cute..I’ll never be worthy of you doll..”  he smiled, giving you a peck on the lips without thinking twice. “I’ll burn the world for you, y’know..” 

You sat there shocked with your mouth open, not having time to give a proper reaction as Toga and Twice suddenly entered your room.

“Treatment time- Y/N you’re awake!!” Toga jumped happily.

“You are reckless! We were worried about you! Wait, why is your face red, open the windows she is suffocating!” Twice exclaimed.  Everything was happening so fast and all you could see was Dabi’s amused reaction at the dumbfounded look on your face.

“Later doll..” he winked, grabbing the pack of cigarettes as he headed out of the room. 

Smug bastard.

You smiled, tears of happiness forming in your eyes. This was only the beginning of your journey with him, and you still had so much more to say to each other. It felt like time was running so fast, it always does when you’re with the person you love the most. Dabi had accepted you and your feelings, gladly giving you his heart in return, which you’d keep and take care of until the day you give your last breath. And maybe, even if there is life after death, you knew your soul would always find his, cause it belonged to him forever.

[spncvr]

scott street | remus lupin

summary: You return to your childhood home. Remus, your past love, unexpectedly returns. (based on the song scott street if that wasn’t obvious)

pairing: rockstar!remus lupin x fem!reader (3rd person oops sorry)

warnings: is this.... angst?? idk but hurt/comfort!! no use of y/n bc i cannot write that and not die a little, and my terrible english i'm sure i mixed all the tenses up here guys sorry im tryinggg,, this is lowk cheesy as hell i feel like... LMAO

a/n: i was sick so i didn't go to school tdy but i wrote this banger oneshot (its 2,4k words can u belive?? longest thing ive ever written in english)

masterlist

Walking Scott Street, feeling like a stranger

With an open heart, open container

THE SUN SUNK behind the many leaves which hung lazily on the branches. Through the old sheer curtains, the breeze blows faint whispers. The room is tinged with a familiar feeling; as if the concrete used that constructed this house is laced with memories from the past. The memories all flooded back like tides in a vast ocean, rolling back and forth as they brought back recollections of days gone by.

This was where she had grown up. The small backyard, the one with grass that had used to touch her ankles, was where she had first learned how to do a cartwheel. The bed, unchanged since she had left, felt almost ancient. She remembered the time she had faked a headache to skip school and had spent the whole day in it; back then the bed had felt like the only place she had wanted to live in. 

This was where she fell in love. So much in love, that she could not seem to pinpoint the exact moment she had ever fallen out of it. Maybe she never did. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore, at least.

The room’s walls are bare, and the old, washed-out wall once covered with posters of her favourite rock bands, no longer stands amongst the antique wallpaper. But his pictures were there. Their pictures. It seemed as though they were taunting her as it was propped up on the small table beside her bed. She picked one of them up, one that had stood out to her the most, and gazed at it.

She grew up without wealth. That was clear from the photo, where her top was much too big for her. Maybe it was her father’s; she can’t remember. But that hadn’t mattered to him. He had his arms around her shoulders and a smile on his lips akin to those she’d seen of him on posters and TV screens. She missed when he’d shown it just for her to see.

I’ve got a stack of mail and a tall can.It’s a shower beer, it’s a payment plan.

She tries to remember the moment or event that had taken place where they had taken the picture. And she almost forgets. It caused her to quickly put the picture back down, and a loud thud resonated between the calm sounds of home.

How could she forget? She felt like she was losing too much of herself. The part of herself that had lived here, one that had loved so freely and so openly, was slipping away so incredibly quickly—and suddenly she understood why her mother had cried when she chose a university so far off. She had almost forgotten a part of herself—a version of herself, that she seemed to have missed the most.

She sits down on the edge of the bed, still close to the picture she had put back down, only to look at it again, this time from afar. 

Of course, she remembers this moment. It had been her birthday, and he had taunted her mercilessly, telling her how she was just as old and frail as he was since she had always made fun of him for having his birthday at the start of the year and hers so close to the end. This may have contributed to the small roll of her eyes in the photo, but she was unable to control the grin that had painted itself on her lips. She can’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. Joking about being so incredibly old while being so young. She’d have given everything to be seventeen again if it meant being seventeen with him. 

Behind the picture, she had been staring at, was another one. And this time, she didn’t forget because, try as she might, she couldn’t.

She can’t seem to let go of the memory of the first time he kissed her, after a gig, a small one that he held with his mates at a pub not that far from here. She remembers how his skin was alight with adrenaline, and his gaze piercing. She couldn’t forget the moment when he told her that she had always been the one he loved not long after the picture, somewhere outside the pub, where the crisp chilly November breeze did not win against his palm that rested against her cheek.

Not long after, when he had brought her back to his, when he had kissed her silly. When she had realized that she really loved him too, and when the realization had hit her so hard, she had to loop her arms around his neck to keep herself upright, when there was only quiet in the house and all that could be heard was her gentle laughter and his sweet nothings, he had whispered in her ear so quietly, almost as if it were a secret, I would have been content to love you from a distance.

There, they were eighteen, fresh out of school and without the slightest idea where they’d go next. She had occasionally pondered what would have happened if they had more time, if they hadn’t both been so foolish, or, if they had both recognized how much it was they felt for one another sooner. But doing so would have made the parting even more painful than it already was. That was something she didn’t like to imagine.

She sighs and leaves the room. She needed to breathe.

Do you feel ashamed, When you hear my name?

ADMITTEDLY, REMUS DIDN'T think he’d ever come back. To Wales, yes, of course, it was his country (now more than ever). But not to this house. Not to her house. He couldn’t ever think straight, not when he knew that she was out there somewhere forgetting every minute detail about their past, and not when the love she’d once felt for him had long gone. But here he stands. 

He’s overthinking this. She probably isn’t even home.

She’s always told him when they were young that she wanted to leave.

One day, she had whispered to him in the darkness, when they were six, her favourite stuffed animal tightly tucked between her arms, one day, we’ll be far away. Remus can’t remember whatever caused her to tell him this at such a young age, with such strong conviction. He thinks it was probably something silly—a classmate’s admonition that some activities were simply reserved for boys. Or maybe it was because her parents had refused to let her get ice cream after she’d finished all of her green vegetables (all that suffering for nothing, really). But the mindset had continued to stick in her mind; an ember of determination that refused to fade away.

One day, she says again, when she’s thirteen because her teacher had failed her in her first ever physics exam, one day this won’t matter. I’ll go. I’ll leave. She had said it so firmly and so surely that it scares him sometimes. Because, really, they’ve never been anywhere but here—so sometimes, he asks his mirror, pretending that she’s staring back at him: What if it’s just the same? What if it’s just as bad?

One day, she says again, when she’s seventeen because she has been looking at universities far off and away from Wales. He’d watch her as she’d stare at the campus pictures on the brochures their school had offered and study the student’s bright wide smiles, and sometimes, he wondered if she ever pictures herself in those hallways, with a group of new friends—she’d be the smart one, the witty one. Sometimes, Remus wondered if she ever pictured him with her as she told him with the biggest smile on her face: One day, I’ll be there. Anytime soon.

She’s never liked it here. That much was always clear to Remus. Her books were the sole bright spot in her otherwise (as she put it) bleak existence. Always arranged in a way that only she could fully understand within the small bookshelf she had bought for herself with her first paycheck when she was saving up for Uni. Often, he wondered if she had brought them with her when she had left or whether she had left them here. No longer feeling the drag of her fingertips against its words. Abandoned by its only reader. 

And for a while, he had thought that he’d given her another reason to love the place they’d always called home. But he left her. So why, then, would she ever choose to stay? Books could only last for so long.

Just knock, he curses to himself. Say hello to her parents. Tell them that you wanted to see how they were doing. 

And just when he’s about to finally get it over with, the door opens.

And she’s there.

She looks different. Hair cut short and brushed neatly. Her clothes fit her nicely. It feels kind of jarring. He doesn’t really know what to expect. He’d been half-expecting to see the girl who had her hair always tied up in a ponytail that didn’t do much, with the amount of hair that was always falling out of it or the girl who wore oversized band shirts that belonged to her father, along with the sneakers she’d been using ever since her feet had stopped growing—the girl who was so full of life it felt nearly impossible not to love her. It was silly, really. Of course, she’d changed. It’s been four years. 

“Remus?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing, “What’re you doing here?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again. What was he doing here?

“I’m—” he starts but pauses for a while to come up with an answer, “I didn’t know you still lived here.”

“I don’t,” she says, plainly.

“Oh.” he breathes, she’s always been forward, “Well, I’m here for holiday.”

“Yeah . . . yeah me too.”

He rocks on the heels of his foot back and forth, “I just— wanted to know how your parents are doing.”

She purses her lips, “Oh. Well, Dad’s doing alright, I bought him a bunch of LPs—some of them yours, actually. And Mum’s still trying to get used to me being back here. She’s cooked a thousand meals.”

“That’s good to know,” he nods, smiling, because sometimes, she has no idea the effect she has on people. “I’m glad they’re alright.”

“How’ve you been?” she inquires, “Heard you’re not doing too bad in your band thing.”

He laughs softly, “It’s been alright.”

She smiles, for the first time he’s talked to her, and shakes her head softly, “Modest as always. Send the lads my love.”

“I missed you,” he tells her. And it spills from his tongue so quickly, before he could even think about it. She needed to know, somehow, that he couldn’t shake her off his mind. He played for her, wrote for her and of her. And sometimes, when he woke up in the middle of the night he swears he could feel her shadow brush his hand, he hoped and prayed to whatever God that was making him feel so incredibly homesick, that she’d been listening to the songs he’d written.

He could only hope that she’d understand the undertone of his words.

She looks at him with this look that seems to pierce through time, reaching back into the past, unwanting to let go. Then, there was this beat of silence; one long enough for him to hear everything that had been left unsaid.

She looks at him, her honey-laced lips slightly parted. “Do you want to come in?” She sounds hesitant as she steps aside, letting him through.

He nods as he follows her in.

The house felt achingly familiar, yet everything felt and seemed different. The walls were the same colour, and the couch that had always looked somewhat old still stood in the exact same place it had four years ago, with new cushions adorning it. The air felt thicker. She always had that effect on him, he supposes.

“Tea?” she offers, a smile playing on her lips, as she leads him into the kitchen.

“Always,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

She turns her back to him to make tea and he feels like he’s missing her all over again. He’s watching her move, taking the tea kettle and suddenly he’s sixteen again, when he’d brought James, Sirius and Pete here because they’d had run into trouble with the police—well, admittedly, it was just James and Sirius, but the four boys had never failed to stick together—and the first thing she’d asked them when she saw all four of them at her doorstep late at night is if they’d like some tea.

“How long are you staying?” she asks, back still turned. “A few weeks,” he says, “Got a bit of a break before the next tour.”

When she handed him a cup, he noticed how even her arms and the tips of her fingers had changed. She looks good, beautiful. 

“So, how’s life been?” she asks, taking a sip.

“Busy,” he replies, “Touring, recording, writing. It’s a lot, but it’s what I love.”

“I’ve been listening to your music,” she admits when he sips her tea. It’s exactly how he likes it. “It’s good, Remus. Really good.”

Remus looks down at his shoes, “Thank you,” then, “I’m sorry.”

She frowns, “What for?” “For leaving,” his voice, barely a whisper, “for everything.”

“Oh, Remus,” she sighs as she puts her cup down on the kitchen counter, “no, you had to go. It was your dream—I mean, look at you. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ve missed you,” he says again. Because she had smiled at him the same way she did all those years ago in that pub.

And this time, she says it back.

They spent the rest of the day talking and, at times reminiscing, catching up on their lives, and it felt like no time had passed, like they were the same two kids who had believed in forever. As the sky turned dark, and the light from the lamp in the living room spilt against the floors of her house, she had looked at him—that same look she had always given him five, six years ago before asked him, quietly:

“Will you stay?”

Remus smiles, his heart full, “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Anyway, don’t be a stranger

likes and reblogs r appriciated! <3 also i just learned what a taglist is,, so lmk if u wanna be included in my remus one :D

[clockwrkpendrxgon]

2024 Year in Review: Writing Round-Up

This is my first ao3 year in review, and I just wanted to say how grateful I am for every bit of love my stories received this year 💕

My details:

My ao3: clockwrkpendrxgon

My fandom: Red, White & Royal Blue

Total no. of fics in 2024: 8

Total word count: 185,081

Oneshots (5):

🖋️ This could be us: (4,436 words, E)

I remember going feral over two specific nsfw fan art pieces and then I was like: okay what if alex was the one who saw them and wanted to try them out? that’s pretty much what this fic is all about ahahaha (i’m so grateful for han and eve fr)

🖋️ Total eclipse of my heart: (7,005 words, G)

This is one of my fave roommates au’s I’ve ever written! And I was so happy that it received so much love and was a remedy for some who went to get their wisdom teeth removed 🥰

🖋️ More Valuable Than Jewels: (10,022 words, E)

GOD THIS STORY. It’s so dear to me, and I was kind of a little disappointed bc it didn’t do as well as I expected :( but it’s okay I guess, because I had so much fun writing Henry pining for Alex in a Bridgerton-esque setting hehe 🤭

🖋️ Bruised Like Violets: (6,254 words, E)

UM THIS ONE WAS A SURPRISE. like i was obsessed with the idea of jealous henry, but i wasn’t expecting so many people to be as obsessed too sjdksjs (not to mention the 🌶️) so yeah i’m happy with this one lmao

🖋️ Wishing On Orion: (23,035 words, M)

another one that is so SO so dear to me like you have no idea. childhood friends? ✅ teenage crush? ✅ one sided love that’s not one sided after all? ✅ it was so wholesome to write henry and alex in an entirely different universe where their families grew in each other’s presence. henry going through his father’s illness with alex by his side… it was something I needed them to experience 🥹 unfortunately, this story didn’t get as even half the love any of my other stories usually get, so it was a punch to the gut but we ball!!

Multi-Chapters (3):

🖋️ Like the Stars Miss the Sun: (23,324 words, M)

The prologue to this story is like nothing I’ve ever written, and I’m so proud of it because this was the first time someone has ever wanted to make art for my fic. (please look at this beauty). the idea of firstprince being lovers in heaven, then being forcefully separated and cursed into oblivion as mortals on earth who have no recollection whatsoever of their past life and love? count me tf in! also check the incredible character profiles mariam did of angel henry and alex 🥹

🖋️ Reserved For Me: (35,836 words, E)

this story was so unserious 😂 like it was a 50/50 gamble for me. people are either going to hate it or absolutely love it and i’m so thrilled it was the latter 😂♥️ i don’t usually dabble with OCs in my fics, but this one time it turned out affectionately hilarious and everyone loved Emad (including me lol) it was so fun basing this fic on a local movie and making henry and alex visit real life locations here where i live and imagine what their experiences would be like 🥹♥️

🖋️ A Bullet to the Heart: (75,169 words, E)

My first ever participation in a big bang, the longest work I’ve written so far in the rwrb fandom, and also my first time writing a spy au! Writing this story wasn’t easy, because I wanted to capture the essence of Henry and Alex’s characters in a world that’s so different from the book, and I think I did alright :) I loved exploring the lengths to which Henry’s grief for his father would go if placed in different circumstances. I also loved writing the action scenes for this fic because I’m such a visual reader, so like- if the image doesn’t immediately flash in the reader’s mind when they read my works, then I’ve fallen short of what I’m doing. I expected this story to do much better than how it did, but I’m also grateful for everyone who gave it their time 🤍

Upcoming fics:

Uhhh, I usually like to keep these a surprise so I don’t end up overpromising 😂 BUT since I have a couple of chapters outlined, we’re getting prince henry x head of security team alex (here’s the prompt) it’s going to be absolute shenanigans!!!

Thank you to @0npurpose and @thesleepyskipper for tagging me in your writing round-ups, I’m so proud of you 🤍

Tags (no pressure ofc!! 💗) :

@kj-bee @firenati0n @ash-morrison @caterpills @miharaikko @theprinceandagcd @blueeyedgrlwrites @anincompletelist @henryspearl @magicmelinoe @milowren29

Lastly, I’m so grateful for the wonderful friends I’ve made along the way, and I can’t wait to witness what everyone in this incredible fandom brings in 2025 🥳✨♥️

[chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang]

“Corpse Groom pt. 2” (Viago x reader)

[part 1]

Requested by @froggoofthrones

Word count: 2,889

Age restriction: 16+ (vulgar language)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Self Imagery issues/Insecurity, slight crack, happy end (sorta)

Synopsis: Even though you were technically banned from ever seeing Viago, the matter that made you break the silence is no joke and he needs to be warned about it.

Author’s note: The focus here is kind of less on romance and more on the plot (that is a bit cliche), but I’m still happy with how it turned out. It’s the longest oneshot I’ve written so far and it was very fun to write, so thank you for the request!

_____________________________________________

The air was chilly, despite it being the middle of June. Dark gloomy streets were lit up by dim lamps, making faint shadows form on the muddy gray pavement. Unenthusiastic and dull were the steps of many tired people returning from work in the centre of Wellington at this late hour. You walked down the same street, matching everyone’s lack of spring in their step, looking around slowly and trying to examine each and every single person passing by. What if maybe, just maybe, one of them happened to be Viago?

Three months passed since you last talked to him. You saw him once in late April, when he was out on the town with Deacon and Vladislav. Watching him from afar was a bit sobering. He seemed happy. Way happier, than you were, which scared you way more than you’ll ever admit. Viago seemed completely fine. Of course, why wouldn’t he be? He’s immortal, he’s smart, he’s pretty. He can probably get anyone he wants, if he wants them hard enough. And you? You were just you? A human.

You shook your head from side to side, as if trying to displace those unpleasant reflections on your own life. This called for a drink. It’s Friday after all, you could allow yourself to unwind once in a while. Sighing, you turned the corner into a small Pub very ironically named “Dracula”. The place was a bit rundown, but what Pub wasn’t? You took a seat at the counter and asked for a Jim Bim.

Tranquility was surprisingly one of the main qualities of this place. Aside from you, the staff and a group of random people whispering back and forth at the table in the corner, there was nobody. The quiet atmosphere calmed you down and simultaneously made you uncomfortable, because silence inevitably left you alone with your thoughts. Thankfully, it wasn’t for long.

“Hello there, you came for the Mosquito Collectors assembly?” A woman from the group, that was mentioned earlier, came up to you.

“Hey, Uhm… what?” You tilted your head.

“The Mosquito Collectors Club assembly. You’re here for that?” She repeated patiently with a bright smile.

“No.”

She looked you up and down, then sighed in disappointment. “Okay then, have a nice evening.” The woman turned around to leave.

“Wait!” She turned back again. “What is this club?”

“Oh, you’ve never heard of us?”

“No, not really. Am I supposed to?”

“You can come and see.” Her grin reappeared, wider than before.

Frankly, you wanted to go. Mosquito Collectors Club seemed so wacky. Talking to these people was either about to be the most fun you ever had or the most dull and awkward interaction you can imagine. Naturally, you preferred the company of some entomology nerds, than being alone. So you stood up, took your drink and followed her to the table.

“Guys, we have someone new interested in the club.” She said and pointed at you. The others turned their attention to you as well.

“So you hate mosquitos too, huh?” One person asked you.

“Uhh… Yeah, they are pretty annoying to be honest.” You shrugged.

“Oh, annoying is an understatement.” A man on the left said.

“Don’t you feel disgusted by them? Don’t you absolutely despise creatures vile enough to… drink human blood.” A woman in the center of the table questioned.

“I already said it. I don’t really like mosquitos.”

“Well, you see…” The woman, who led you to the table gently patted your shoulder. “…We’re not only talking about mosquitos. There are other creatures. Much more dangerous, but with the same bloodthirsty tendencies. You know who I’m talking about.”

“Vampires.” A breath hitched in your throat. There was no way.

“Yes, vampires. Vampires, who kill and keep killing our closets ones. How can Wellington be tolerant to these creatures, who have no respect for us?”

“That’s why we’re taking matters into our own hands. We’re vampire slayers, you see. And we can teach you to be one too.” You turned to the men at the table again. “What do you say?”

Vampire slayers. You thought that this problem would never arise after Petyr’s tragic death. Yet, here they were in the flesh. What if they hurt Nick, Vlad, Deacon or Viago? Maybe it was best to join them and quietly sabotage their plans from the inside?

This felt stupid. Why should you be protecting the guys, who are hundreds of years old? Surely, they don’t need the help of some scrawny human. They must know how to deal with situations like that. But do they, though? Because last time a vampire slayer found them, somebody died very tragically. They might be old, but not all knowing. They needed you just this one time.

“Yes, I would like that.” You responded after a few seconds of thinking.

The club members unanimously happily congratulated you on joining them and immediately started giving you the rap of what they do, how they do it and what are their plans for the future.

It’s been more than a month since you’ve joined the Mosquito Collectors. They turned out to not be the worst people. Sure, they were terrifyingly violent and suspiciously good at driving stakes through the hearts of silicone dummies. But most of them, had someone very close to them killed by a vampire. Be it a relative, a friend, a partner and even one man’s daughter. You felt really bad for messing with them. They were like some kind of avengers, fighting for what others didn’t understand.

While dating Viago, you pushed back all the thoughts about him killing humans into the back of your mind. Because he was so sweet and nice to you, that you didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he literally needs human blood to survive. You didn’t want to think about jars of blood in their fridge. You didn’t want to think about the corpses buried in their yard. You didn’t want to think about the crimson stains he had on the majority of his clothes.

And yet, here you were, with people who had to suffer the consequences firsthand.

The worst part is that their next affair was raiding a certain vampire residence in the Northern Wellington suburbs. The same address you visited so often just a few months ago. Apparently they weren’t the best at keeping vampirism a secret. Your worst fear came true. They all were in grave danger.

It was around 3am, when you were called into the same “Dracula” bar for an emergency meeting. They told you to bring all your weapons, like crucifixes, stakes and so on with you, which made you all the more nervous about their plans. Everyone was already sitting at the table, so you quickly grabbed a chair and joined them, feeling the tense atmosphere. Your leader Cassie looked at you, then started speaking.

“Now that everyone’s here, let’s discuss this. Initially, we planned to attack on August 13th, which is next Friday…” That’s why you thought you had a whole week to tell vampires about this and you were going to do it tomorrow. You even prepared a whole speech, because you imagined it will be hard to make them listen to you after all this happened. “…But the plans changed, because Marvin over here has to leave the town for that day. So we decided to do it today, as the sun goes down. We can’t risk losing any more time. Who knows how often these things feed. We have to put an end to this.”

The club members cheered, their spirits were evidently up and ready to kick some vampire ass, but your heart shrunk in absolute terror. This was not good. This rapid change of plans… It’s not good. You had to come up with a plan of your own and fast.

“Okay, let’s polish our strategy, before we make a move.” One of the members started, but you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, can I leave for like… five minutes? I have to take my medicine and I… uhh… I left it in my car.”

“Yeah, sure. Be back soon.” They nodded and you sprinted out of the bar and to the nearest bus stop, taking the first bus to the suburbs.

You rushed there as fast as you possibly could, considering you weren’t the one driving the bus. Once you exited the vehicle, you started running like your whole life depended on it. Your lungs burnt and your legs cramped, but you had to tell them, before the night is through. If something ever happened to them, you wouldn’t forgive yourself.

As your hand reached the front door, you started banging on it loudly and frantically.

“Deacon, open the door, please!” You heard the familiar German accent say. “Thank you!”

The door swung open to reveal Deacon’s already annoyed look. But when he saw that it was you, who was knocking his face soured even more and he immediately tried to close the door back, but you put your boot in the way, to make it stay open.

“Deacon! Stop acting like a child! This is important!” You struggled in the fight for the doorknob, as the young vampire kept trying to shut the door on you. “Come on!”

“We banned you from coming here, mortal!” He hissed.

“Vampire slayers are planning to kill you, morons!” You yelled in final desperation, as you realised that you’re losing this ‘door fight’.

Deacon suddenly let the door open and Vladislav’s head popped from the staircase. Seems you were a bit too loud with your statements.

“Repeat that?” Brücke stepped back.

“There is…” you panted slightly from running and battling at the door. “There is a group of vampire slayers in Wellington, who are planning on raiding your house as soon as the sun goes up. They are really skilled, I’m not joking. You guys need to leave this house right now. Go to Boogie Wonderland or crash at Jackie’s place or mine, I don’t care. Just don’t stay here, I beg you…”

“How do you know that?” Vlad descended to the first floor.

“I accidentally met them at the bar and they told me all this stuff, I…” You collected yourself. “I know, you don’t want to trust me. You don’t have to. But this is really serious, I would never lie about this.”

You looked behind their backs at the two gleaming eyes watching your interaction from the shadows in the hallway. You wondered if you should greet him or let it be. You shook off both thoughts and continued talking.

“It’s four am. They will attack at five, so they are probably already on the way, ‘cause getting here takes a while.” You mumbled.

“Then the whole thing about running away wouldn’t really work, would it?” Deacon shrugged.

“I mean, we could try. I don’t know if staying here would do anything for you, guys.”

“Okay, then we need a plan.” Viago finally appeared from the shadows, briefly meeting your gaze, then immediately looking away.

It’s been almost half an hour and no working plan came. You had dumb ideas of pretending to be dead, killing the slayers instead, leaving them warning signs and other ideas, that were half-baked to say the least. So many powers and yet so little clue how to use it in defence against professionals. This sucked in the most literal way possible.

So you did the only reasonable thing: blew out all the candles in the house, closed the windows and turned off the lights, then hid in the basement. Might seem cowardly, but it’s really not. It’s called survival instinct and vampires had a good grasp on it. If they didn’t, they would probably not stay alive for hundreds of years.

The basement was cold and dusty. Bones and rotting flesh accentuated the disgustingly dirty floor, that you found yourself sitting on. The four of you sat in silence, closely listening to every little noise that came from upstairs. You didn’t know, if it was instinctive or not, but when the sound of a broke window on the first floor reached your ears, Viago moved a bit closer to you.

“This isn’t how I wanted to die…” you whispered.

“Why would you die? It’s not like they can burn you with a crucifix.” Viago answered even less audibly.

“No, but they can stab me with a sharp wooden stake, you know? Humans are not immune to this shit. Plus, I betrayed those guys and they are unhinged lunatics. If they find me, I’m pretty sure they’ll kill me too.” You sighed and silence fell again. There were distant sounds of doors being opened and furniture turned over. “Viago, I’m sorry if I made you feel, like I wasn’t taking our relationship seriously.” He turned to you and even in the dark lighting, you saw his eyes widen. “I’m just not ready for marriage. It’s a big step. Too big for me right now, but… I love you and I really want to be with you and see how it goes. Would you mind… trying again? If we make it out alive, that is.”

Before you could fully finish, his cold lips met yours and you found yourself melting under his soft and gentle caressing of your cheek. He pulled away and left one last little peck, before quietly giggling to himself.

“If this is how I die, maybe it’s not so bad.” He held your hand.

“It’s all great and I’m happy for you, but can you not do this shit now? Even the rats in our basement feel uncomfortable.” Deacon grumbled.

“Right…” you shut up. “Wait… I have an idea. Listen here.” You leaned in and started explaining your very simple, but working scheme.

Upstairs, the whole house was turned inside out. Closets opened, with all the stuff scattered on the floor, the fridge partially taken apart, their caskets stood open, their books on the old carpets. They searched every corner and didn’t find a single vampire, like they planned. Mosquito Collectors were about to go into the basement, when you climbed out of it.

“So, did you find anything, guys?” You casually said, dusting off your pants.

“No… How come you are here? We thought you left.” Cassie said.

“Oh, no way. I thought we were going separately.” You shrugged.

“We literally had a minivan rented out. Okay, whatever. Did you find anything?”

“Not a soul. The basement is empty, so is the attic. Found a few cool books in their library though. They probably left a while ago, because the place seems slovenly.”

“Hmm… You sure the basement is empty?”

“Yeah, yeah. Checked it several times. You don’t have to-“ She walked right past you.

“Oh, I do have to.” Cassandra went downstairs into the cellar.

She lit up a battery powered flashlight and started to examine the dark room. Aside from some creepy remains on the floor and a bunch of rats, shivering from cold in the corner, there was absolutely nothing to see. Empty. She returned upstairs.

“Fine, whatever. Sorry guys, this raid was unsuccessful. But that’s just our first step! Next time we will get those bloodsuckers. Let’s go home.” They all headed for the door, but you stayed. “Are you going, [reader]?”

“Oh, it’s okay, go on without me. I want to take a few pictures for my blog. It will take a while.”

“Well… sun is already up, so I guess you’re safe. Don’t take too long though. Precautions, precautions, precautions.” She pointed her finger at you and you nodded back. “Bye, [reader].”

“Bye, bye!” You waved at the rest as they left the house one by one. When you saw their car drive away, you quickly returned to the basement. “All clear!” You smiled and leaned down to pick up the three rats and hide them in the inside pockets of your jacket.

Going to the second floor, you first put Deacon into his closet, quickly closing the lid to avoid sunlight. You heard a little thud of him turning back into his human form. Then you went into Vlad’s room, closed the blinds tightly and let him go as well. Finally, you made your way downstairs into Viago’s room.

It was a mess. Probably one of the rooms that took the worst damage. You could imagine how upset he is, since neatness is the thing that your dandy is very keen on. You shut the embroidered curtains and gently placed the mouse in the big coffin. It went up in a cloud of smoke and sun transformed into the lovely German you know.

He looked at you with his big brown eyes, that you swore had their own galaxy inside, and smiled. Smiled so affectionately, you felt like there was no four month break in your relationship.

“I’m sorry for rushing you. I just… I guess I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. It’s funny how after all these years I keep acting on impulses.” He chuckled sheepishly.

“Can I sleep with you today? I didn’t sleep through night whatsoever…”

Viago moved, leaving enough space for you to fit in perfectly. You perched inside it and enveloped your limbs around his lanky body. He carefully closed the lid and let the peaceful darkness pass you by.

[aceredshirt13]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

It’s so wild to think about that less than a year ago I only had six posted fics to choose from and now I have thirty-seven. So this was a hard choice… but in no particular order, here are my tentative top five!

Midnight Marauders - My longest fic, clocking in at more than 17k! It’s for The Great Ace Attorney, and chronicles how a young Herlock Sholmes met, befriended, and eventually moved in with a certain traumatized doctor, with a mixture of humor, drama, and warm-hearted pathos. I hadn’t read A Study in Scarlet when I started writing this, so the meeting is wholly original! (Perhaps Iris took some creative liberties.)

The Musgrave Ritual Sacrifice - My second-longest fic at more than 14k! It considers how the events of canon Sherlock Holmes story “The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual” might have played out in the eldritch horror universe of Neil Gaiman’s “A Study in Emerald”. Follow the brilliant detective, his partner, and their quiet, fond romance through a world of terror, mystery, and doubt.

i’ve studied how to properly love - Did you ever watch Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century and think to yourself, “Jesus Christ, the deeper implications of this children’s cartoon are absolutely horrific”? Then this fic is for you! It manifests as a journal written not by Watson, but by his robot imitation, as he worries over the newly-resurrected Holmes (who has convinced himself the robot Watson is the real man he loved), the self-destructive, guilt-ridden Beth Lestrade, and his own feelings, sentience, and sense of self. One of my favorite things I’ve ever written, actually.

A Proper Celebration - A sequel to an adorable Jeeves-Holmes crossover ficlet by Loremaiden, this is a short little oneshot about Bertie getting published for the first time, and fellow author and lifelong supporter Watson coming from Sussex along with Holmes to congratulate him. By far the fluffiest entry on this list. (And I’m a bit proud of managing a decent Bertie Wooster POV voice that people seemed to like!)

To Taste Death Valiantly - I love the Raffles stories by E. W. Hornung. I also love the 1971 cult film They Might Be Giants, an odd romantic comedy about a man who thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes and the doctor named Mildred Watson who is assigned to look after him. So I thought to myself: what if there was a Raffles version of the same story - but this time they were both girls?? Thus, this is the tale of Sarah “Bunny” Mathers, failed writer and suicidal housewife, and how a chance meeting with a beautiful, delusional burglar gives her a new reason to live. Probably the nichest entry on this list, but I had a lot of fun writing it.

[yourlocalartsonist]

MONTLY MFIP UPDATE

8/13 | Month 1 | Next Month

Hey hey hey folks! Been a while, I know but we’re here now! If you’re wondering “what the fuck is this” basically I decided to take notes from my bestie @yosajaeofficial and do monthly updates for MFIP the way they do em for their story JMC so it doesn’t look like I’m dead :D (BTW Please go check out the Jayce Myles Comics, it’s gonna be a rise comic and hasn’t debuted yet but Jae’s been working super hard on it and I guarantee if you guys like MFIP, then you’ll love the JMC too so give em a follow to stay updated~)

Anywhizzle, I know I don’t update often but truth be told, I don’t usually have much publishable material. Most of the MFIP related artwork I do are usually things I can’t reveal till future chapters. They’re lore-significant and would be kinda spoilerish if I posted them before the chapters are ready so womp womp on me. All the other art I do are either for different stories, sketches, or just not things I really wanna publish at least as their own posts. I do, however, wanna show I’m not speaking out my ass so I’mma show a few of em here actually :3

First one’s like one of my favorite things ever even if it’s pretty simple. I just wanted to explore Salena’s dynamics with some of the villains and sketch em out for funsies but only got as far as Meatsweats and Kendra. Still one of the funniest shit to me ESPECIALLY the random ass beef Salena and Meatsweats have. It came out of fucking nowhere but both have accepted it as just their dynamic now. Funfact, it wasn’t even planned; I accidentally made Meatsweats the villain for chapters 1 and 3 and decided “fuck it, the bond is funny” so now they’re mortal enemies for no reason other than pure coincidence💀✨

Wanted to show this one because it’s cute and I love it. It’s one of my more recent sketches (hence the brush being changed) I did on a day I wasn’t really feeling too well and kinda craved Raph’s big-brother comfort. I might go in and actually finish this one ngl cuz it’s just really sweet to me

SPOILER!

I also wanted to show a sneak peek at one of the chapter artworks that I mentioned earlier I cannot post yet. I’m not revealing any of the context or what chapter it’s from, but trust me y’all are in for a ride🤭✨✨✨

Alrighty, so that’s all I have for the art section. It’s not all though since I do wanna talk about the actual chapter progress itself in this next section

So, all y’all know the last chapter posted was chapter 9 and the one I’m working on currently is chapter 10. It’s got 19 pages so far in the docs but still kinda near the beginning. Chapter 9 was HUGE for me to write and I kinda think it’s the longest chapter I’ve written in general even including chapters from other stories I’ve written in the past so it really put me through a trip. I’m really happy and proud with how it turned out but it did burn me out a little so I’ve spent most of my summer break resting and regaining my energy. I’ve dabbled into other projects, other stories, AUs, etc. A lot of it was self-indulgent stuff which may still be posted on a separate account but it does mean I wasn’t progressing much with MFIP itself. I never abandoned it though or even properly stepped away from it tbh, it stayed in my mind and I kept having ideas that I added to my notes or just random brainrot I liked expanding on. It also gave me a chance to approach chapter 10 with a new lens cuz it had to be mentally reworked a few times to properly convey what I wanted it to. It’s still not fully figured out but it’s planned out in my head enough for me to ball it when writing the actual chapter itself as usual

I’ve also been working on some oneshots too! They’re kinda optional treats for anyone who wants to read em. They do have significance in the story but it’s not gonna leave you completely lost about the lore or anything if you choose not to read them. I’ll be posting at least the first one soon, I’m not sure yet cuz the order is indeed important for the timeline sake. But anywho, expect to see some of that as fun bonus content!

Now that the chapter update’s done, I did wanna talk more to you guys about writing and the story itself. I know I’ve become incredibly slow at updating the story but I do wanna reassure you guys that I still love MFIP and have a lot of passion for it, as well as working on it as hard as I can. The reason these chapters take longer is ironically because of that. I used to be able to pump out a chapter within a few weeks but those were the REALLY early days. My chapters grew to be much longer than I ever thought they’d be and they’re filled to the brim with important details and crucial moments that I can’t take out or rush without it feeling sloppy and lacking. The quality’s also increased thanks to my wonderful team editing the chapters for any typos or continuity errors and working on MFIP with as much passion as I am but that means they need to be given enough time to do their jobs properly. My love for MFIP is greater than it’s ever been and that’s saying something cuz I was quite obsessed since day one. But since there’s so much to do and I wanna be able to make the quality worthwhile, it takes me much longer to complete chapters. On top of that, there’s obviously life stuff going on too. I still have to focus on college and study for it, especially since I’m majoring in physics, and I have to take care of my mom a lot since she’s a breast cancer survivor (officially been a decade now🦾) so we got A LOOOOOOT of doctor appointments every month. It’s just our normal. I do wish there was a way I could work faster or increase the amount of hours in a day but hey, at least we’re all waiting together. I can promise you this much: if I ever decide to drop the story—which I believe is VERY HIGHLY UNLIKELY—I’ll be sure to let y’all know. I won’t ghost or randomly delete it out of nowhere someday. As far as I’m aware, I have full intent to keep this story going and keep communication clear between us :3

But yea, all in all, I think that’s all from me for this month’s update!

I hope this was a satisfying update to read (and to know the story ain’t abandoned—) and I hope next month I’ll have some cool things to show too. Maybe I’ll consider showing a written WIP next month? I’m not too sure since I usually like keeping my chapters a surprise till they’re fully done but I’ll consider it depending on how far the chapter is. For now though, I must bid y’all farewell! I’ll still be here to answer asks or do fun tag games and maybe post here and there if I have something. If ya made it this far, thank you for reading and enjoy the rest of your day everyone. Love ya guyssss🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

ROTTMNT: Moths Fly In Packs

[trappedinmymind]

1, 5, 14, 18, 20 from this ask game

1. What is your favorite trope to write?

In theory? Found family.

In practice? Some secret gets revealed that completely upends any sense of normalcy and/or understanding that the characters have in their life, and it seems like it's gonna completely destroy (sometimes metaphorically, usually physically) the characters but in the end, while the story doesn't end with everything being "fine", the characters and their relationships end up stronger and with a sense of (cautious) hope

I don't know if there's a name for that, but I've written it... 4 or 5 times now, probably for reasons I don't want to touch with a 10 foot pole

5. The fic you're most proud of writing?

You're Like Me. It's probably the longest I've ever been able to stay with a fic, both in terms of chapters and word count. I'm also really proud of how I've woven the allegory in with the plot, although I could have probably planned out the plot a bit more. Oh well

14. First fandom you ever wrote fanfiction for?

MCYT, though it's unpublished for what should be obvious reasons to anyone who's ever been in the MCYT fandom for an extended period of time

18. Most words/chapters ever written for one fic or oneshot?

So far, only counting published chapters, I'm at 15 chapters and three words shy of 38,000 words for You're Like Me. The next closest is 6 chapters and 25,500 words.

20. Hardest character to write/get the characterization correct for?

For Nimona specifically, I struggle with Ballister, Ambrosius, and Rurosiv (an OC in You're Like Me), each for different reasons.

Ambrosius is difficult for me in terms of just plain characterization. I feel like I don't have enough data to pull from for him; he's clearly a complex and dynamic character in the movie, but pretty much every scene with him he's either doing knight stuff or being a loverboy, and there's only so much I can comfortably extrapolate from that.

Ballister is more complicated when it comes to the allegory in You're Like Me. Specifically, I'm trying to have Ballister be kind of a "peacekeeper ally" (idk the actual term for it); someone who is an ally to a community (in this case the trans community), and is very well informed on issues the community faces, but struggles to call out when someone around them is being actively harmful to the community they're an ally to, especially if they believe the other person will get upset at being called out. I sometimes struggle to reconcile this with his canon personality, and sometimes feel as though he comes across as too naive. He's not naive, he is used to letting people get away with things they probably shouldn't.

Rurosiv is hard for a kind of similar kind of different reason to Ballister. Rurosiv was developed specifically to represent the disability community, and from there a lot of her trauma (and by extension a lot of her mannerisms) revolve around being forcibly hidden away, whether that be just the parts people don't want to see or her whole person. There's a lot more to her than this, but it affects a lot of how I write her. Having been in fandom spaces for as long as I have, my biggest challenge with her is writing her in a way that avoids her 1) being infantilized, 2) being seen as a woe-is-me helpless character, or 3) being seen as an emotionless/buzzkill character. I think I’ve got her balanced now, but it is very important to me that I get her right, so I am constantly analyzing how she comes across when I write her

Sorry that turned into a bit of a rant at the end, but Thanks so much for the ask! These were really fun, and of course if anyone wants to ask about other numbers from the ask game, or about writing in general, I’d love to answer!

[torreshalstead]

The Paramedic and the Bullet Magnet

Summary - When Hailey was assigned to Ambulance 61 at Firehouse 51, she knew it would be much busier than her current house, but what she didn’t know is that she would meet a cute cop whose green eyes she wouldn’t be able to get out of her mind. And that their first meeting wouldn’t be their last.

Notes - I had so much fun creating this little world, (even if it did end up being the longest oneshot I’ve ever written!) I hope you enjoy it! AO3 Link ❤️

‘Wow, they weren’t kidding about this being a busy house,’ Hailey let out with a sigh as she dropped down onto the couch in the break room. She and Violet had just returned to 51 after constant back-to-back calls, it was past 4pm and they had rolled out this morning in the middle of breakfast. She was exhausted.

‘You grow to love it,’ Violet said with a wink as she threw herself down next to Hailey, ignoring Mouch’s mumbles that the two of them were talking over the television.

‘I can imagine, keeps you on your toes that’s for sure,’ Hailey said absent-mindedly. Today was her first shift at 51 having been called in to cover for the PIC, Sylvie Brett, who was taking an extended leave of furlough to implement her Paramedicine program in cities across neighbouring states. Violet was assuming the PIC role and Hailey was more than happy to work alongside her, she had heard excellent things about the young medic and was looking forward to jumping into a far busier house.

Her own house, 11, was in the far north of the city and handled signifcantly fewer calls. She liked it well enough but was excited to stretch her wings and her medical ability here. The whole house was incredibly welcoming that morning, she had previously met the Truck lieutenant, Stella Kidd, as her colleagues had dragged her to Molly’s one night stating it was the best firefighter bar in the city. Hailey hadn’t had the heart to tell them it was the only firefighter bar in the city. But still, in the brief interactions she had had with Kidd that night, she had been lovely.

51 was much more like the type of house she wanted to end up at, a house that felt like a family, calls that challenged her and gave her the opportunity to grow. She didn’t know how long she’d be detailed here but she was going to make the most of every shift.

Just as Hailey was starting to wonder what was for dinner, the bells rang again.

‘Ambulance 61, person down from unknown causes, 326 South Racine’.

‘No rest for the weary,’ Violet said with a grin as the pair jumped up. ‘Save us some dinner,’ she called over her shoulder as they headed towards the app floor.

—————————————————————————

Calls like this where she had no idea what to expect were Hailey’s favourite. It kept her on her toes, and she relished it. She was a quick thinker so enjoyed diving into the unknown.

She pulled the ambo up to the address that dispatch had provided them, the whole area was cordoned off with police tape, a number of police officers were scattered around.

‘Someone call for an ambo?’ Violet asked once they had jumped down from the cab, locating the nearest officer to provide them some information.

‘I think Intelligence did, over by that car,’ the officer said bluntly, gesturing blindly behind him.

‘How helpful,’ Violet said sassily. Hailey smirked, she knew that they were going to get on like a house on fire, no pun intended. They walked over to where the officer had pointed, a grey haired man who appeared to be in charge was barking orders at two younger uniformed officers.

‘Someone call for us?’ Hailey said with a smile.

‘There’s a victim inside that seems to have had a panic attack and one of mine got hit by a stray bullet but is conveniently refusing treatment. You have my full permission to shove him in the back of the ambo and cart him off to Med,’ the sergeant said gruffly, Hailey spotting his badge on his hip.

‘I’ll take the patient and you can deal with the stubborn cop?’ Violet said as she held the door open for Hailey.

‘Okay,’ she agreed, walking into the convenience store and spotting both of their targets at the back of the store.

The one she assumed was the stubborn officer was sitting on the floor next to a young boy, who couldn't be older than 15. The officer was muttering under his breath and seemed to be instructing him to breathe in time with him, the young boy's shaking hand was clutching his tightly.

As they approached they heard him say, ‘Trey, these are my paramedic friends, are you okay if they take a look at you? If you say no, they’ll stay right over there?’ The young boy, Trey, nodded slowly in response but didn’t lessen his hold on the officer who lifted his head and smiled at them, giving them the okay to proceed.

‘Hey Trey, my name is Violet, are you okay if I take over from my friend here?’ Violet said calmly, holding out her own hand. Trey looked up at the cop, the worry evident in his eyes but when he was met with a smile, he nodded slowly.

‘I’ll just be right over here buddy,’ the officer said as he passed over Trey’s hand to Violet and stood up. Hailey noticed him wince as he did so but the pain was only evident on his face for a microsecond before his calm demeanour took over again.

‘You’re not Sylvie,’ he said when he and Hailey had walked a couple of steps away towards the window to give the young boy space to breathe.

‘Top marks there, officer, I’m Hailey,’ Hailey said with a grin. ‘But your sergeant told us you got shot and were refusing medical attention, so you lose at least 5 marks for that.’

‘I’ve been shot before, it’s just bruised ribs. And by the way, it’s detective,’ he smirked with a small raise to his eyebrows.

‘Well then detective, that’s still not a doctor so if you let me take a look at you, I’ll make that call.’

‘I’m fine, I promise Hailey,’ he said and Hailey could tell he was sincere in his words so she quickly changed tact.

‘If that young boy had said he was fine and you could clearly see that he wasn’t, would you take no for an answer?’ she asked, raising her eyebrow. Now he was standing in the light, she could see he was about her age, maybe a year or two older, he was a head taller than her and there was something about the way his green eyes were looking at her was making her question everything. She shook herself back into the present, she was here to help him, not ogle at how attractive he was. But boy was he.

‘I guess not,’ he said slowly, a small smirk appearing on his face as he realised she had caught him out.

‘Okay, so then detective, will you please let me check you over?’ Hailey said with a smile.

‘I will. But only when Trey’s been checked over first,’ he said firmly. ‘And it’s Jay. I mean detective is fine too if you want to stay formal,’ his green eyes glistened as he spoke.

‘Jay,’ Hailey said, liking the way his name sounded on her tongue. ‘I think I can agree to that,’ glancing over her shoulder she noticed that Violet had the young boy on his feet and was walking towards the door, clearly she had managed to calm him down. ‘We can follow them out to the ambo.’

Hailey and Jay followed Violet and Trey out of the store and began their walk across to where they had parked their ambulance up.

‘I’ll just check in with the boss and I’ll be right with you,’ Jay said, starting to walk away in the opposite direction but with a look back at Hailey’s less than impressed expression, added, ‘You’ve got my word Hailey,’ he smiled softly and Hailey nodded in response.

‘Wow. Did you just get Jay Halstead to agree to actually get checked out?’ Violet asked incredulously. ‘You might be a miracle worker after all,’ she sniggered.

‘What? He normally a difficult patient?’ Hailey asked curiously as she opened the back doors to the ambulance.

‘Difficult is an understatement. We usually have to threaten to call his brother to even let us take a look,’ she chuckled.

‘His brother?’ Hailey couldn’t help but ask, this guy had spiked her curiosity.

‘He’s a doctor over at Med, Dr Halstead, we met him earlier when we took Mrs Sharpe in. The tall red haired one. They’ve got good genes in that family, I’ll tell you that,’ she smirked. ‘Okay Trey, we just want you to sit here for 10 minutes keeping your breathing under control but if you start to feel like your chest is tightening again, we’ve got oxygen on hand okay?’ She turned her attention back to their patient and was rewarded with a small nod.

Hailey looked back around, she could see Jay stood talking to the Sergeant from earlier, he was clearly favouring his left side, unless he always stood that way. She realised she was staring when she heard Violet give a little cough from behind her.

‘Just admiring those Halstead genes?’ She smirked.

‘Just making sure he hadn’t run off,’ Hailey countered quickly but could feel the blush start to creep up her cheeks.

‘He won’t, he’ll come and check on Trey. He’s that kind of cop,’ Violet said lightly and Hailey felt a warmth spread through her. The kind of cop that would calm a teenager down from a panic attack having just been shot himself and come and check up on him afterwards. And the kind that had beautiful green eyes…

‘How we doing?’ she heard his voice and jumped slightly at the interruption, she hadn’t realised he had made his way over here.

‘Okay,’ Trey answered quietly with a small smile. Jay pulled himself up into the ambulance and took a seat next to him. He started talking to him in a hushed voice, Hailey wasn’t trying to overhear but there was something about this guy that drew her in, an unconscious pull.

‘It’s okay to be scared when something like that happens. A panic attack does not mean you’re weak, okay? Lots of people get them.’

‘Not people like you,’ Trey muttered quietly, his head bowed down.

‘People like me,’ Jay nudged him gently with his shoulder. ‘I get them too. Before I became a police officer, I used to be in the army. And sometimes, even here in Chicago, it feels like I’m right back there and then I feel just like you did. Why do you think I knew what to do and say? Because sometimes my friends have to help me too. And it’s okay to ask for help. I promise,’ Jay finished with a smile. He lifted his head slightly and caught Hailey’s eye, she turned away quickly, embarrassed that she had been caught snooping. ‘But if you promise you’re okay, I can give you a lift back home once these nice paramedics have told me that I’m okay too.’

‘I’m okay,’ Trey answered with a small nod and a smile.

‘Alright then,’ Jay said, returning to his regular volume. ‘If you hop down and go speak to Violet and let Hailey here take a quick look at me, then we can get you home in a minute.’

Trey appeared to agree as he climbed down out of the ambulance and went to speak to Violet who had been lingering just a couple of feet from the back of the vehicle.

‘You were in the army?’ Hailey said after a moment's silence once the two of them had been left alone.

‘Rangers, two tours,’ Jay said. ‘Guess I shouldn’t talk about it in the back of your ambo if I don’t want you listening,’ he said with a grin.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to-’ Hailey started but Jay raised his hand.

‘I’m kidding Hailey, it’s no secret around here,’ Jay smiled. ‘You’re new to 61?’

‘Just filling in for Sylvie until she’s back, I was stationed up at 11 before here,’ Hailey said with a small smile, thankful that he didn’t seem too bothered about her eavesdropping. ‘You were really good with him by the way, don’t think I know any cops who could have calmed him down like that.’

‘Well now you know one,’ he said, flashing her a smile, those green eyes shining once again. ‘Now if I promise to sit still, will you give me the all clear so I can take the kid home?’

‘I can,’ Hailey smiled. ‘But if I see any sign of a broken rib, I’m sending you to Med for scans. Just lift up your shirt for me.’

‘Normally a lady would buy me a drink before she asks me to take my clothes off, but seeing as it’s you,’ he winked at her and Hailey giggled. Actually giggled, outloud, in front of people, in front of him. She was a full grown adult, why was she acting like a teenager with a crush. This was stupid.

Jay lifted up his shirt to reveal a bruise blossoming on his side, the vest had caught the bullet and it must have been fired from a far enough distance, it didn’t look broken.

‘Okay, so I don’t think it’s broken, just bruised but I can’t be sure without a scan,’ she said as Jay pulled his shirt back down. She forced herself to look at his face and ignore the mental picture of his toned stomach that she had just taken. ‘But I have it on good authority that your brother is a doctor so if you are in a lot of pain, please call him and he can give you a more accurate assessment.’

‘Will do,’ he said as he jumped up with a slight wince.

‘I saw that,’ she said with a light chuckle.

‘Don’t miss a beat do you Hailey,’ he smiled as he got down from the back. ‘I’ll see you around,’ he said as he walked towards Trey and Violet.

‘See you,’ Hailey said under her breath. Well Violet is going to give me hell for this later, she thought to herself as she packed away the back of the ambulance. And when Violet gave her a knowing glance later as they climbed back into the cab, she knew she had been right.

——————————————————————————

Violet had given her crap about it all the way back to the house, but luckily eased off once they pulled in. Getting ribbed by Violet for having a crush on the cute cop was one thing, but by the whole house on her first day, not ideal and luckily Violet seemed to understand that.

‘Hey Upton, you coming to Molly’s tomorrow after shift?’ Hermann asked loudly once they entered the break room. ‘I’ll give you 10% off,’ he added with a grin.

‘Yeah I think so,’ she said with a smile, walking over to dish up some dinner which luckily still sat on the counter.

‘Does that offer extend to the whole house?’ Cruz piped up from his seat at the dining table.

‘Is it your first day Cruz? I don’t think so,’ Hermann barked back quickly and the room descended into laughter.

‘A discount from Hermann is like gold dust,’ Violet murmured next to her. ‘Take full advantage.’

‘I intend to,’ Hailey responded. And she meant it, she liked this group. And the fact that they wanted to spend time with her after shift was an added bonus, the discount on drinks was not to be scoffed at either.

‘Halstead shows up at Molly’s too sometimes,’ Violet said under her breath as she sat down next to her with a smirk. Hailey blushed but luckily the discussion of Hermann only offering her money off was loudly distracting the rest of the room so no one else heard.

The remainder of their shift was relatively quiet which Hailey was thankful for. She wanted to be at a busy house, that she was certain of, but it was still a significant change from her previous posting and she felt like she’d been dropped in right at the deep end. It might take her a couple of shifts to get the hang of it, but she would. When Hailey Upton set her mind to something, there was nothing that was going to stand in her way.

——————————————————————————

Strolling into Molly’s that evening, Hailey immediately felt the welcoming feeling she had experienced when she walked into 51 the previous morning. People turned to say hello, those too far away smiled and waved and Hermann called her over to the bar.

‘What’s your poison then Upton?’

‘Just a beer is good, whatever you recommend,’ Hailey said with a smile.

‘You made it!’ Violet exclaimed, wrapping her arm around Hailey’s shoulders in a warm embrace.

‘Told you I would,’ she said, thanking Hermann for the beer that was placed in front of her.

‘Come on,’ Violet smiled and led her towards the table she had previously been sitting at, Ritter and Gallo welcoming her warmly as she took a seat. It was nice to feel like she was part of the team, even this early on.

The trio questioned her on everything and anything, from her childhood which Hailey glossed over, her time at 11, the worst calls she’d been on, the best calls she’d been on, what her favourite Chicago delicacy was. That these people wanted to actually get to know her, cared about what she had to say, tugged on her heart strings. It was a shame that Brett was going to return in a couple of months, she could see herself being really happy here.

As the evening wore on, Hailey found herself glancing at the door every time she heard it open. It wasn’t that she was expecting the green-eyed cop to walk through it, but she had hoped he might.

‘Maybe it’s a long case,’ Violet said to her quietly when the boys had gone to get the next round.

‘No, I was just-’ Hailey started but realised she had been caught out. ‘Yeah maybe,’ she said reluctantly, returning to pick at the label on her empty bottle.

‘Hey Violet.’ Hailey looked up to see who had spoken, not recognising the voice from any of her colleagues. It was Dr Halstead, the tall ginger haired doctor that she had met the previous day, and the brother of the man who was currently at the forefront of her mind as much as she tried to ignore it.

‘Hey Will, this is Hailey, not sure you had a chance to meet earlier. She’s my partner until Sylvie’s back,’ Violet introduced Hailey who held out her hand.

‘Ahh you must be the paramedic who actually persuaded my brother to get checked out then,’ Will said with a grin, shaking Hailey’s hand as he spoke.

‘Is he okay?’ Hailey asked, worry bubbling up in her stomach. She had only told Jay to seek out his brother if he was in pain.

‘Oh yeah, he’s fine. Still a stubborn arse but he’s fine. He brought a victim in this morning and asked me to take a look. But you were right, just bruised. Told him to rest up, he won’t but I told him anyway,’ Will chuckled.

‘Ah okay,’ Hailey said, trying to disguise the relief that she felt that he was alright.

‘But you must have had quite an effect, for him to actually get medical attention, I probably owe you a drink.’

‘Yes our Hailey made quite an impression,’ Violet said, sarcasm thick in her voice. She winced slightly when Hailey’s foot made contact with her shin.

‘Next one’s on me then Hailey,’ Will smiled and bid them both goodbye. Hailey turned to Violet with a half hearted scowl.

‘Thanks for that,’ she said with a pout.

‘Anytime, what are partner’s for,’ Violet said, nudging her with her elbow as Ritter and Gallo returned with their drinks.

When Hailey got up to go to the bathroom a little later in the night, Stella called her over to the bar.

‘Hey, Will said your next drink is on him, that right?’ She asked, raising an eyebrow. Hailey could tell she was digging so leant against the bar, her arms crossed on top of it.

‘What did Violet tell you?’ She asked, her pout disguising a smile.

‘Just that you and a certain detective had some sparks at a call earlier,’ Stella said, absentmindedly wiping the glass in her hand. ‘And now his brother is offering to buy you a drink, just trying to put two and two together,’ she grinned.

‘Well, to save you getting an answer other than 4,’ Hailey said and Stella laughed. ‘Yes, I met Jay on a call, persuaded him to go see his brother if he was still in pain later and his brother came to thank me.’

‘And that’s all?’ Stella said, a shit-eating grin painted on her face.

‘And I may or may not have thought Jay was cute and that is that,’ Hailey said firmly, ‘and now I need to pee.’

‘This conversation isn’t over Hailey!’ Stella called after her and Hailey grinned. She had never been the sort of girl to have many female friends, she didn’t really have a close circle of any friends if she was honest. But there had never been anyone to make fun of her if she had a crush, never tease her about her blushing. It was nice, nice to feel like one of the girls.

—————————————————————————

Jay hadn’t show up at Molly’s and Hailey would be lying if she said she wasn’t just a tad disappointed. She had had a lovely evening with her colleagues though, got to know them all and was beginning to feel comfortable as part of the team.

It was a week or so later when she next ran into Jay, luckily on this call he wasn’t one of their patients.

‘Look who it is,’ Violet had said with a grin when they pulled up and spotted Jay standing with some other officers who Hailey assumed were his colleagues. Before she had a chance to respond, Violet jumped out, leaving Hailey to grab the jump bag as she strolled towards the group.

‘Hey Hailey,’ Jay said as Hailey reached them. Her memory hadn’t failed her, his eyes were just as green and mesmerising as she had remembered.

‘Hey, you need us?’ Hailey asked but was surprised when Jay shook his head.

‘Not anymore, Ruze did his ankle in whilst running so we called you for that but he was moaning so much that Kevin shoved him in the car and took him to Med himself’, he chuckled, ‘not quite protocol but I won’t tell if you don’t,’ he winked and Hailey felt her knees go weak.

‘On your head,’ she said with a smirk, managing to focus herself. She was not going to giggle in front of him again, that moment had haunted her dreams on multiple nights. She was so embarrassed.

‘Oh I’ve been meaning to tell you, Trey’s doing really well,’ Jay said, his smile turning from a grin to a soft and warm smile. ‘He’s getting some counselling through his school and has been working on some coping techniques.’

‘That’s really good news, thanks for telling me,’ Hailey said sincerely. ‘How’s your side?’ She asked, ‘Will said you came in to see him?’

‘Talking about me with my brother now?’ His eyebrow raised as his eyes twinkled, ‘should I be worried, offended or flattered?’

‘I saw him at Molly’s,’ Hailey grinned, ‘he bought me a drink for keeping you in line.’ She was actually flirting with him in front of not only her colleague but his as well, in broad daylight in the middle of the street. But she couldn’t help it, and he clearly didn’t seem to mind.

‘I’ll go with offended,’ he smirked. ‘I was just taking the advice of a very wise paramedic.’

Hailey blushed slightly, ‘well I’m glad I made an impression.’

‘That you certainly did,’ he said, his voice dropping slightly which Hailey guessed was in an effort to conceal what he had just said from his teammates. Her cheeks reddened at his words, they could mean nothing but it certainly felt like they meant something.

Just as she was trying to think of an appropriate comeback, his radio buzzed into life.

‘5021 George, got your ears on?’

‘Sorry Hailey, duty calls, see you around?’ He said, his face apologetic as he spoke.

‘Of course, stay safe Jay,’ she said. Not sure what had made her say the second half of her comment, maybe she was remembering the feeling in her gut she had experienced for just a moment when she had spoken to Will. But he smiled warmly at her words before walking towards a large grey truck, answering his radio as he went.

‘We should probably get back to the house,’ Violet said, she had a knowing expression on her face and Hailey wondered just how much she had overheard as she nodded and walked back to the rig with her.

‘He’s single you know,’ Violet said once they had both closed the doors.

‘What?’

‘Jay. He’s single, so you should go for it,’ she grinned. ‘Why not?’

As she pulled away from the scene, Violet’s words replayed around her head. Why not? Maybe she had a point. Why not?

——————————————————————————

Those same words echoed around Hailey’s head for the next few days, if it was true and he was single, why didn’t she go for it? Maybe she would, she told herself, there was no reason not to. Well, unless she had misread the signals and he hadn’t really been flirting, maybe he was just like that, just chatty and friendly. Then she’d make a fool out of herself. And in the couple of weeks she had been stationed at 51, she had seen him twice on calls so it seemed unlikely that she would be able to avoid him if she did indeed make herself look like an idiot.

But there was the flip side of the coin, she might not make a fool out of herself at all, she could be reading all his signals correctly, and asking him out might be the best thing she had ever done.

Her mind flip flopped between the two options seemingly every hour, to the point that when they rolled up to another call a few days later and spotted him, she hadn’t decided what she was going to do.

‘Well look who it is,’ Violet smirked as she climbed out of the cab.

‘Hey guys,’ an officer who Hailey had been introduced to as Kim last time they were in Molly’s spoke to them first. ‘He’s over here,’ she said as they walked across and Hailey realised she was leading them towards where Jay was sitting on the curb. Hailey’s pulse quickened as she spotted how he was holding his arm, specks of blood littered his shirt.

‘What happened?’ She asked concerned as they walked towards him.

‘His arm got caught on a wire fence, we’ve told him he needs to go to Med as it probably needs stitches and to check his tetanus shot status,’ Kim said, she had clearly failed in persuading him judging by the tone of her voice.

‘And I told you, it just needs to be bandaged up and I’ll be fine,’ Jay said through slightly gritted teeth, clearly in more pain than he wanted the team to know.

‘Can we at least check you out?’ Hailey asked.

‘Seeing as you asked so nicely Hailey,’ he said with a smirk, ‘do I have to go sit in the ambo like an invalid?’

‘Yes, yes you do,’ she said and offered him her hand to help him up. He rolled his eyes but accepted it and helped her pull him to his feet. ‘I’m going to assume you can walk fine,’ her eyes twinkled as she looked up at him.

‘Pretty sure I can, lead the way,’ he smirked but followed her when she started walking.

‘Pain level on a scale of 1-10, without lying to me,’ she asked quietly as the pair approached 61.

‘4, I’m okay Hailey, I promise,’ he said sincerely. ‘Can you just bandage me up and send me on my way?’

‘And if you need stitches?’ She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

‘Then I will trust your medical opinion and go and annoy my brother.’

‘Very well then,’ she said, ‘let’s see the damage.’

Jay reluctantly let her examine his arm, the wound wasn’t particularly deep but it was still bleeding profusely. Lucky for Jay it wasn’t going to need any stitches.

‘It’s your lucky day, it’s not going to need any stitches but you might need to replace the bandage if it keeps bleeding like this, okay?’ She said busying herself with cleaning the gash and wrapping it up.

‘Okay,’ Jay said, ‘thank you,’ he added quietly, ‘hospitals are not my favourite place.’

‘I had gathered as much,’ Hailey said, handing him over a second set of gauze and tape. ‘If it bleeds through then replace it with this, get one of your team to do it, ask Will, do it yourself, just make sure you do. You don’t want to get an infection.’

‘Understood, medic,’ he smirked and got to his feet.

‘You patch him up Hailey?’ Violet said loudly as she rounded the back of the ambulance. ‘Alright then, they’ve got us responding with the rest of the house so we gotta go.’

‘Don’t let me hold you up then ladies,’ Jay said as he jumped down from the back. ‘See you around.’ The comment could easily have been directed at both of them but his eyes never left hers as he waited just a second longer than necessary before walking back towards his team.

‘You can fill me in on the way,’ Violet grinned as she closed the doors once Hailey had climbed down as well.

A few hours later once they had all returned to the house and devoured the Chicken Parm that Stella had made for dinner, Cruz stuck his head round the break room door.

‘Someone on the app floor for you Sylvie, it’s Halstead.’

Violet’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline and Hailey knew that Stella’s grin would be from ear to ear even without needing to turn around to look. There were many reasons he could be at the house, maybe he needed help with the case, she thought as she walked out towards the app floor and found Jay in conversation with Kelly.

‘Hey Hailey,’ he said, a small blush appearing on his cheeks.

‘Everything okay?’ she asked, her eyes giving his body a once over to check for any immediate injuries. ‘Ahh,’ she said when she noticed that he was holding his hand over his arm in the exact location she had bandaged up earlier. ‘Come on,’ she nodded her head towards the ambulance.

‘It came off on another call and I thought you’d do a better job of putting it back on than me,’ he said as he took a seat on the bench next to her. ‘Hope you don’t mind.’

‘It’s my job Jay, of course I don’t mind,’ she said softly, gathering her supplies.

The pair sat in silence as Hailey recleaned the wound and applied another set of bandages. She wouldn’t describe the silence as awkward but it felt like something unspoken was hanging in the air.

Jay cleared his throat as she smoothed down the bandage and admired her handiwork, ‘there might have been an ulterior motive to me coming here,’ he said, his normal confidence and sass disappearing.

‘Oh,’ she responded, keeping her eyes on his arm although there was nothing further that needed to be done.

‘I wanted to know if I could take you out sometime?’

‘Yeah?’ She raised her eyes to meet his gaze, a small smile pulling on her lips.

‘Yeah,’ he breathed out.

‘I’d like that,’ she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

‘Something we have in common then,’ he smirked, the sassiness had returned. ‘Tomorrow night, after your shift?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ she smiled.

‘Okay great,’ he slapped his thighs dramatically which made her chuckle. ‘I’ll try not to get injured between now and then.’

‘I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.’

‘You got your phone on you, I’ll give you my number and we can arrange a place to meet?’

Hailey nodded and handed over her phone, letting him put his number in and noticed how he texted himself so he had hers too.

‘I’ll text you later then,’ he said, handing the phone back.

‘I look forward to it,’ she was certain her grin was near to looking foolish but she couldn’t help it. ‘Stay safe.’

‘I will,’ he said as he climbed down from the back of the ambulance and held out his hand to help her too.

She smiled and accepted it. He gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he added before turning around and exiting the firehouse.

‘Okay, we are definitely talking about that,’ Violet’s voice loudly came from the other side of the floor and Hailey chuckled as she shook her head jokingly. She didn’t mind really, and now at least she had a date with Jay to think about.

—————————————————————————

Jay had texted her asking if she was okay to meet at Cork and Kerry at 8 the following night. Hailey accepted eagerly, never having been to the bar in question but knowing that the company would make up for anything it lacked in comparison to her usual haunts.

When she arrived however she was pleasantly surprised, it was an upmarket bar that still had that cosy feel, she immediately knew this wouldn’t be her last time here. It was quieter than Molly’s but not so quiet that the atmosphere was non-existent. Jay was waiting at the bar when she approached, his smile widening as he spotted her. Hailey watched as his eyes roamed over her bare legs and took in her outfit before returning his eyes to her face. She was glad she had gone with her gut, this was clearly the occasion for her favourite navy blue dress.

‘Wow, Hailey, you look… wow,’ he spluttered, his emerald eyes as wide as saucers.

Hailey grinned, ‘I reckon it takes a lot to make you speechless so thank you. You don’t scrub up too well yourself when you’re not covered in blood.’ Jay chuckled.

‘I probably deserve that, I ordered you a whiskey sour, I had an inkling but if I’m wrong then I can drink yours and order you something else,’ he gestured to the glass on the bar.

‘Whiskey sour is perfect, do I want to know how you knew?’ She asked, taking the glass and a small sip, the whiskey hitting just the right place at the back of her throat.

‘Well, I imagine you also like a good glass of wine or a beer when you’re just hanging with your friends but are not so much a fan of the fruity drinks, you like to taste your liquor if you’re drinking it,’ he raised his eyebrow, questioning if his guess was correct.

‘Like to imagine a lot about me do you?’ Hailey said, smirking at him as she raised her glass and took another sip.

‘That’s another question entirely,’ he responded and Hailey felt the blush creep up her cheeks. This man could be a real charmer when he wanted to be. ‘Want to move to a table?’ he asked, noticing that she was still leaning against the bar.

‘Planning to be here a while?’ she said, her smile pulling tightly to reveal a dimple in one of her cheeks. Her flirting was a little rusty but with the nod Jay gave her as he stood up, it might be working she thought.

After they moved to one of the booths towards the back of the bar, the conversation flowed easily enough. She took the mickey out of his innate ability to clearly attract trouble wherever he went. He told her stories from when other paramedics had tried and failed to get him medical attention, including when Sylvie had threatened to sedate him. It was lighthearted and fun. That was until Jay asked her what made her want to be a paramedic.

It was always a question that made her stomach drop. People always expected an answer along the lines of wanting to help people, do some good. They didn’t actually want to know the real reason. But here, sat with Jay, he had asked the question sincerely, he really did want to know. But Hailey wasn’t sure she could tell him, not yet at least. When her gaze hadn’t lifted from where it was fixed on her almost empty glass, she felt Jay reach across, his palm warm against her forearm.

‘Hey, you don’t have to tell me, I can go back to telling you more embarrassing stories about me if you want,’ he smiled warmly as she looked up.

‘No, it’s not-’ she started but realised quickly, it was something else entirely. ‘I just don’t want your opinion of me to change when I tell you,’ she said slowly.

‘Hailey, you can trust me. Whatever you want to tell me, or don’t want to. My opinion of you isn’t going to change,’ he leant in closer as he spoke so she could see the lights reflected in his eyes.

‘I became a paramedic because of my dad,’ she spoke quietly, focusing on the point of contact he had kept on her arm. ‘Well because of the paramedic who patched me up because of him.’ She swallowed, it had been a long time since she had told this story but something in her wanted to share it with Jay. She wanted him to know her, all of her. And as much as she didn’t like to admit it, this was still a part of her. ‘He wasn’t a good man, he drank. A lot. And when he drank he got angry, got angry at my mom, at me and my brothers. He was angry at everybody and anything. It started that he would just yell, it was loud and scary but it was just noise. Then it got worse.’ She took another deep breath and felt Jay squeeze her arm just slightly so she took comfort in it and continued. ‘My brothers could fight back as they were bigger and older, and they tried to protect me from it. But they weren’t always there.’ She saw Jay’s features tighten. She was sure in his line of work he had probably encountered this story many times over in its many variations. ‘Well it got bad one night, the neighbours overheard, called the cops and the paramedics came too. There was this blonde paramedic who helped my mom and then helped me. I remember thinking she was like an angel,’ Hailey laughed lightly. ‘That she could just come in and help us, take some of the pain away.’

‘I don’t remember exactly what she said, or really what she did. But she made me feel safe. And to little Hailey, that meant everything. So I decided I wanted to be like her, to help take the pain away and make people feel safe.’ She sniffed, not realising how emotional telling the story again would make her. ‘So now I’m a paramedic, and anytime I help a little kid like me, I hope I make them feel just a fraction of the safety that I felt.’ She smiled softly. Jay’s eyes hadn’t left hers the whole time, and the one thing she hoped she wouldn’t see, pity, was nowhere to be seen. His eyes were full of warmth and pride and comfort, and if the table hadn’t been separating them right now, Hailey was sure she couldn’t have stopped herself from falling right into his arms.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ he said, pulling his hand back slightly from her arm, but before Hailey could miss the contact, he was lacing her fingers through his. ‘Well you made me feel safe,’ he smiled softly and Hailey chuckled wetly, a couple of stray tears had fallen down her cheeks, ‘so I have no doubt of the effect you’ve had on all your other patients.’

‘I haven’t told anyone that in a while,’ Hailey said softly, ‘but it felt good to say it outloud again.’

It was Jay’s turn to open up next, he told her all about signing up for the army straight out of high school, much to the anguish of his parents. He told her, although she imagined he skimmed over the most harrowing parts, about his time overseas, the friends he’d made and the one’s he lost. About his return to Chicago and how lost he had felt, how losing his mother had almost broken him. She had squeezed his hand a little tighter at this when she heard his voice break. Then how when he joined the force, he had felt like he had a purpose again, how he was becoming someone his mom would be proud of, even if his dad wasn’t.

‘I’m sure she’s very proud of you Jay,’ Hailey said in agreement and was rewarded with a tender smile in return.

‘I hope so. I think we both make her proud, Will and I. We haven’t always been the best brothers to each other, but we’re close now. And I wouldn’t be without him. Even if he does annoy me every year to get the flu shot,’ he chuckled. Hailey didn’t miss the small attempt to turn the conversation light hearted again but she didn’t mind. She could tell Jay was similar to her, keeping a lot of his secrets buried deep within and putting on a front to those he came into contact with. But they had both brought down those walls a little tonight, letting each other peer inside and neither had run for the hills.

‘It’s getting late,’ Hailey said, noticing the clock on the wall. ‘I’m going to have to head home, as much as I’d love to stay.’

‘That’s probably a good idea,’ Jay said smiling, standing up to help her put her coat on.

‘But I’ve had a lovely evening Jay, really,’ she said, looking up at him as he pulled her collar up to protect her from the Chicago wind outside. Maybe it was the whiskey in her system, maybe it was his eyes, but whatever it was, she went with it. She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him. It was brief, just allowing herself a moment's contact before pulling away.

He stared down at her and for a moment she thought she’d made a mistake, misread every signal, the entire evening. But the moment only lasted for a second before his smile grew and his lips melded against hers again and she lost herself in him, forgetting they were standing in the middle of a public bar.

——————————————————————————

It was no surprise that when Hailey got to work the following shift, her mind still full of green eyes, soft lips and whiskey breath, she was pulled into Stella’s office by the lieutenant and her partner and made to give them a play by play of the entire evening.

She couldn’t help the grin that was plastered on her face or the blush evident on her cheeks as she regaled them with all of the events of the previous night. She left out the details that were still personal; her own childhood and Jay’s but talked around them so the pair still got an idea of what had occurred.

‘You kissed him? Yes Hails,’ Violet squealed, the nickname that she hadn’t heard in years falling easily from her partner’s lips. ‘Get it girl!’

‘Can’t always wait for a guy to make the first move,’ Stella agreed and Hailey chuckled.

‘That’s what I thought,’ she winked. It was so nice to have people to talk to like this, sure she had colleagues in her previous house but their conversational topics stayed mainly around the work. But Violet and Stella were becoming fast friends and Hailey couldn’t be more grateful.

She and Jay had exchanges a few texts that morning, nothing specific just hoping the other had slept well, wishing a good shift and as had become a custom, Hailey telling him to be safe. She meant it, of course, but it also felt like an in-joke between them, him being the accident prone cop and her the safe paramedic. She chuckled when she got the response back of just a winky face emoji.

After the initial gossip session, the rest of the shift was quiet, although no one would say as much for fear of angering the bell-gods. They ate dinner as a group, Kelly having grilled up some brisket which had melted in her mouth before Hailey had even closed her lips around the fork. It was a lovely evening and then the bells went off.

‘Ambulance 61 - Police Officer Down, Monroe and Ashland.’

Hailey and Violet jumped to their feet and Hailey thought she had left her stomach behind as she ran towards the ambo. There were hundreds, thousands of police officers in the city of Chicago, it didn’t mean it was him. Violet was silent on the journey to the call, Hailey was sure she could feel the nerves radiating off of her from the passenger seat.

‘I’m sure it’s not-’ she started as they pulled up but upon quickly recognising Jay’s sergeant and a couple of other members of the Intelligence team she stopped. ‘I’ll take the lead,’ she said, unnecessarily. She was the PIC, Hailey always looked to her for guidance on a call but she was thankful she had said so, if it truly was Jay that had been injured, she’s not sure how much help she was going to be. She could normally keep an incredibly cool head no matter what the scenario, but just being around Jay got her a little off kilter, the thought of him being hurt wasn’t something she wanted to think about. But now she was going to have to.

‘It’s Halstead,’ the gruff sergeant said as soon as they approached, ‘we think we’ve stopped the bleeding but he’s pale as hell.’ He quickly led them over to where Jay was laying, his teammate applying pressure to the wound on his side. Hailey felt the colour drain from her face.

She stood there, unmoving whilst Violet jumped into action, instructing Kevin to keep his hands firmly where they were, ignoring the grunts of pain that were coming from Jay at the pressure.

‘Hailey, Hailey!’ Violet all but had to yell to get her attention.

‘Yeah,’ she spluttered, ignoring the tears that were threatening to spill.

‘Keep him awake whilst I take a proper look. Distract him, this is going to hurt,’ Violet said before turning to the other members of intelligence and instructing them to bring the stretcher closer and get prepared to help them lift Jay onto it.

Hailey nodded quickly and crouched down near Jay’s head, taking his hand in hers, it was already several degrees colder than it had been when she had held it last.

‘Hey, Jay, stay with me,’ she said quietly, trying to keep him still with her other hand so Violet could inspect his injury. ‘Stay with me.’

Jay let out a hmm in response which Hailey took to mean that he was trying, he squeezed her hand tightly.

‘Violet’s just got to check it out so we know what to tell Med when we arrive, it might hurt a little but just keep squeezing my hand,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. He needed her to be calm right now, which was the exact opposite of what her heart rate was currently doing. It was taking everything she had not to turn into a crying mess at the state of the man currently lying on the ground.

Jay nodded and closed his eyes.

‘You can keep your eyes closed but don’t let go of my hand,’ Hailey murmured.

‘Never,’ he managed to whisper and Hailey saw an attempt at a small smile before it turned into a loud groan as Violet rolled him over slightly to see if the bullet had gone all the way through.

‘It’s a through and through,’ she said after confirming, ‘you’re lucky Jay, Will will be able to patch you up no problem’.

Jay gave her a feeble thumbs up and Hailey chuckled lightly, ‘he’s going to give me hell for this,’ he said through gritted teeth, quiet enough so only Hailey could hear him. She squeezed his hand again knowing that it was probably true, Will was used to his injury prone brother but Hailey was sure it didn’t stop him giving Jay a talking to each time.

A couple of Jay’s teammates helped Violet and Hailey load him onto the stretcher and they wheeled him towards the ambo.

‘I’ll drive if you want,’ Violet offered and Hailey smiled warmly, reaching out to touch her upper arm in a silent thank you.

The drive to Med was relatively quick but it felt like an eternity to Hailey. She kept pressure on Jay’s side the entire way, mumbled useless facts to him to keep him focused and kept her own focus fixed on his stats in case they fluctuated just a bit. The bleeding seemed to have slowed but he was still a dull shade of grey.

‘Hailey,’ Jay said as loudly as he could manage but it came out as a whisper, his voice still thick with pain, just as they pulled into the ambulance bay.

‘Hey hey, we can talk about it later,’ Hailey said, shaking her head. She wasn’t sure she was actually strong enough to have this conversation now. It was taking every ounce of strength she had to stay in Paramedic Hailey mode, Paramedic Hailey was focused. That’s who she had to be right now.

——————————————————————————

Jay had been taken into emergency surgery as soon as they had arrived, Violet had explained everything to Dr Marcel and repeated it all as a scared looking Will appeared and demanded to know where his brother was being taken. When he spotted Hailey, he calmed instantly, coming over to let her know Jay was in the best hands and he would be fine, he was a fighter. Hailey appreciated the sentiment but could see that Will’s calm demeanour didn’t quite reach his eyes. He promised to come and find them as soon as he had any news before he disappeared, Hailey suspected to stalk outside the operating theatre.

Violet had called the Chief to let him know what had happened whilst Hailey sat in the middle of the waiting room, oblivious to anything that was going on around her.

‘Boden can’t take us out of service as the city is short on ambo’s today, he did try, but we can stay here until we get another call,’ Violet said when she took a seat next to Hailey, giving her knee a comforting squeeze.

‘Thanks,’ Hailey managed to croak out, her throat scratchy and dry.

‘He’s strong, Hailey, he’ll be okay,’ Violet said. Hailey knew her partner was only trying to be comforting but they both knew how precarious a situation like this could be. Everything was still hanging in the balance.

Time seemed to both stand still and speed up all at once. Hailey watched but didn’t register the people coming in and out of the ED waiting room, she could feel Violet’s arm around her shoulder or her hand on her leg but never acknowledged its presence. She was experiencing everything and nothing concurrently, she was lost.

She had brought in plenty of patients into various emergency departments all over the city throughout her time as a paramedic. She had sat in waiting rooms waiting for news when one of her own team got caught in a blast or suffered smoke inhalation. She had even been in herself a time or two. And yet she had never felt like this. Usually as a paramedic she had some sense of control over a situation, understood the medical jargon that was batted around and had some grasp on the likely outcome. But this was different.

He was different.

They had only known each other a short while, had only met a couple of weeks ago, but the effect that Jay had had on her was undeniable. She could feel it within her, deep in her stomach, the fear that he might not make it off of the operating table. It was eating her up. She wanted to scream, shout, run, hide, crawl into a ball in the corner and not speak to anyone. But she couldn’t do that. So she sat, stationary, on a cold plastic chair in the middle of the waiting room, the weight of her partner's arm heavy across her shoulders, and waited.

And waited.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, letting the dull ache sit inside, the fear of the unknown.

It was Violet squeezing her shoulder gently that brought her attention towards the red haired doctor that was approaching them. She stood up so quickly her head spun, she was thankful for Violet’s grip on her arm at that moment, keeping her steady.

‘He’s okay,’ Will breathed out. All the tension in Hailey’s shoulders dissipated at his words. ‘He’ll have a nice scar and still be in pain when he wakes up, but he’ll be fine.’

If Will carried on talking, Hailey didn’t realise. Jay was okay. He was going to be fine. She didn’t realise how tightly she had been holding every muscle in her body until the relief flooded her system. It was like someone had cracked open up her chest, finally allowing her to breathe.

‘I think he’d like to see you when he wakes,’ Will said, his words barely registering. Violet nudged her gently and Hailey looked up at Will with confusion. ‘He’s still out of it, but you can wait with him, if you want.’

Hailey glanced quickly back at Violet, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘You can go, I’ll call Chief and we can get a floater for the rest of the shift,’ Violet glanced at her watch, ‘we’ve only got a couple of hours left as it is.’ She smiled warmly and Hailey turned to Will and nodded.

‘Yes please,’ she said quietly, impressed that she could string two words together with the circus that was going on in her mind. He was going to be fine, she could go see him. She followed Will through the double doors.

But what if he didn’t want to see her, they weren’t anything to each other, not really.

One date, one kiss, the occasional flirt.

She didn’t realise she had come to a stand still until Will turned around.

‘Hailey, you okay?’ he asked, concerned.

‘What if he doesn’t want to see me?’ she whispered.

‘He will definitely want to see you,’ Will chuckled, ‘can’t usually get him to shut up about you if I’m honest.’

Hailey blushed but gave Will a small smile, following him as he resumed the path to Jay’s room.

The room was quiet when they entered, the beeping from the various screens being the only sound. He looked peaceful, Hailey thought as she walked closer to the bed where he lay, like he was asleep and there was nothing wrong. But the oxygen tube under his nose and the wires attached to his chest and arms proved to her that that wasn’t the case.

‘He should wake up soon,’ Will said softly from where he had remained in the doorway, ‘just press that button and one of the nurses will be in once he’s up.’

‘You’re not going to stay?’ Hailey asked, pulling her eyes away from Jay to look at his brother who just shook his head with a smile.

‘I don’t think I’m the one he wants to see when he wakes up. The nurses will page me, I’ll be up as soon as they do,’ he said and with that he turned and left, and Hailey was left alone with the sleeping Jay and the beeping machines.

For a moment she just stood there, unsure what to do, what her exact place was at this moment but decided to pull over the plastic chair from the corner and take a seat next to him, that way if something went wrong she would be close at hand. At least that’s what she told herself, but in reality, being this close allowed her to reach across and squeeze his hand lightly, and focus on the rising and falling of his chest. The constant rhythm giving her a small amount of peace.

Hailey could have been sitting there for minutes or hours, days or weeks, she lost all concept of time, just poured all her focus into watching his chest rise and fall with every breath. It was less laboured than it had been in the ambulance and she took comfort in that. She hadn’t thought about what she would say when he woke up and questioned why she was there, if he would want her to leave or be grateful that she had stayed. She just held his hand and concentrated on his breathing, it was all she could do.

A small groan pulled her focus and she glanced up to see Jay wincing in pain, his eyes suddenly open.

‘Hey hey, it’s alright,’ she said quickly, jumping to her feet and pressing the button like Will had instructed. ‘You’re at Med, you’ve had surgery,’ she said softly, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to comfort him.

‘I thought I was dreaming,’ Jay managed to say, his voice rough from where he had been intubated in surgery.

‘What?’ Hailey asked, wondering just how much pain meds were pumping through his system.

‘In the ambulance,’ he smiled weakly, ‘but it really was you.’

Hailey chuckled quietly and returned to her seat, gently sliding her hand back into his, smiling when he squeezed it.

‘Yes, it was me. You went and got yourself shot again so someone had to drag you to Med,’ she said with a smirk.

‘Yeah sorry about that,’ he said, ‘hazard of the job.’

‘And yet, you’re the only member of intelligence I’ve ever had dealings with,’ she smiled. The nurse came into the room and the pair fell silent, watching her as she checked the screens and made a couple of notes on her clipboard.

‘Your numbers are strong Mr Halstead, I’ve paged your brother and he’ll be up in a moment,’ she said, smiling at the pair of them.

‘Thank you,’ Jay said as she exited before adding, ‘Will is going to kill me for this.’

‘He was worried about you,’ Hailey said quietly, ‘I saw him when we brought you in. I’m sure he’ll just be glad that you’re okay.’

Jay hummed in response, ‘have you been here all this time?’ he asked curiously.

‘Will brought me up once you got out of surgery,’ she said, feeling the blush creep up her cheeks again.

‘Thank you,’ he smiled. ‘Nice to wake up to a pretty face.’

‘I told her you’d rather wake up to her than me,’ Will said loudly having just entered behind them, Hailey and Jay laughing at his words.

‘You were right about that,’ Jay said, tightening his grip on Hailey’s hand just slightly.

‘Nurse said your numbers are good,’ Will said, looking over at the screens himself. ‘But I would much prefer it if this was the last time I saw you in here like this.’ Hailey could hear the jovial tone to his voice but his eyes were full of sincerity and looking back at Jay she noticed he had a similar expression.

‘Didn’t mean to scare you bro,’ Jay said. ‘I’ll try and avoid the bullets next time’.

Hailey had to laugh, ‘I’m just going to ring Violet and let her know you’re okay, I’ll be right back,’ she squeezed his hand and headed for the door. Pausing just a couple of steps into the corridor, she pulled her phone out to find Violet’s contact details. As she did so, she heard Will’s voice carry to where she was standing.

‘You two make quite the pair,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’ she heard Jay reply.

‘The paramedic and the bullet magnet, who would have thought,’ Will chuckled.

‘Romance movies have been based on a hell of a lot less,’ Jay said, and Hailey could imagine the smile on his face. It was the same smile that made his eyes glisten, the same one that had encroached on more than one recent dream of hers. It was the same smile that was making her fall for him.

‘That they have brother, that they have.’

Hailey smiled to herself as she walked down the corridor, a hell of a lot less she thought to herself.

[souptastical]

✨PSA: “Stepping Stones Series”

Gonna go and guess the only followers I have on this blog are from my fic series, so without much explanation let’s dive in haha-

When I started my most popular fic “Stepping Stones” I was 21, just got out of my alcholism and started writing it for the first time in my friend’s chevy truck in our local market’s parking lot before I went deep into the woods for two weeks to speed write the first 10 chaps amongst the trees. It felt like a lifetime ago, and both I & my skillset have changed wildly since then. So with absolute excitement, I announce that I’m rewriting “Stepping Stones”!

Note that the rewrite will not render “To Go From Here” non-canon from the fic series and I will not be rewriting that part- just the first. I also will still be updating both “To Go From Here” and the oneshot series!

I am so, so excited for this and already have four chaps down! (not including editing). It will be almost exactly the same as the original fic, minus some points like-

✨The initial way Arthur finds out about Harry at the start of the series

✨Harry will most likely start his jump into age regression sooner than it had been

✨I hope to make summer before fourth year more detailed

✨As I’m sure you know, Hermione is almost non-existent in the entire series. I had written a chapter at one point of her departure, but scrapped it back in 2021. The reason that she’s not in it is because through every fic I’ve ever written, I cannot write Hermione realistically for the life of me!! But this time round, I hope to be more clear and have more events related to her departure in the case of her & Ron’s relationship.

✨I hope to have more filler scenes, as that’s my one struggle with writing.

So those are my thoughts so far but note that they’re not concrete- I always thought it would be too much of a tedious task to rewrite but have wanted to for so long and am actually liking it so far!

I get so surprised when you guys tell me you have me on email alerts and check back on the fic’s status- i am in awe when it’s mentioned on subreddits and translated.

I can’t believe you guys like it that much but I’m glad you love it as much as I love it- this fic is my baby and the longest going one I have ever written and all your comments are read even if I don’t reply!

All the kudos, bookmarks and shares are so appreciated and I wanna thank all of you for being there for the whirlwind of an adventure written by a wayward writer that hopes to bring some sort of fluff, comfort and reprieve from the sometimes darkened world a lot of us live within💖

[marrfixated]

FREE PALESTINE

Pinned post/My info:

Last updated Dec 28, 2024

TL;DR: Marr, he/she/ze/they, neurodivergent, total drama, sideblog @priyemma

Hello! My name is Marr. I use He/She/Ze/They pronouns. I’m cool with any gendered terms, and I pretty much use them interchangeably myself. Gal, guy, neither, whatever!

I have ADHD and anxiety along with other things, but those are the ones I’ll probably talk about on here the most. I’m mixed White and Latina (plus Native) but mostly white (in that it’s a little more of my genetics than the others and I’m painfully whitewashed). I speak English and want to learn Spanish, but I’m definitely not fluent. American, and a lot more “country” than I realize lol (I’m a midwestern gal)… I do study a few other languages, but mostly in a linguistic sense.

I’m still very much into Total Drama! It’s one of my longest lasting hyperfixations so far, the fandom is just a little dead lol. I also reblog a few other things, like TADC, Dungeon Meshi, Lost 2004, House MD, or Gravity Falls (I… haven’t watched that one lol)

I love shipping! I can’t even list all my faves because there’s so many. Despite being AAspec… it’s my favorite fandom thing lol. I am very much a multi shipper and I constantly am finding new things to ship! I try to not engage in ship hate ever, but sometimes I slip up lol. Everything that could be considered ship hate is tagged as such and never tagged with the ship that is being slandered.

I can’t really draw, so if I ever post my beginner drawings please be nice lol 😭 I’m still developing a style and learning. I have many, many WIPs that I might share here and there. I do really want to be able to draw confidently and make art for the things I love!

Sooo… I’ve actually written a few fics! It’s way harder than you’d think haha! I have a LOT that I work on in my free time… and I’ll post them someday. My user is Marrfixated on AO3, feel free to leave comments or kudos!

I’ve written four Alenoah oneshots so far. Most recently posted Contra Entendre, so go read that! I have 3 other oneshots that are somewhat written and I’ll post someday… Buuut I don’t like how they’re written right now! I currently have an Alenoah AU and a Priyemma post-canon fic in mind… but that’s not anywhere near ready haha! I write a lot more than I post… I have like 5 oneshots that are “finished” that I’m just not happy with lol!

I also have tiktok @Marrfixated. I post on tumblr more than TikTok because it’s easier, but I started off there. I mainly repost (“reblog”) things on TikTok. I have a discord that I’ll use on occasion by the same name. I also have a Priyemma centric sideblog on here (@priyemma), where I’ll usually reblog content from and vice versa.

You’re on thin ice if you engage in ship discourse, constantly hate on ship I like (it makes me sad 💔), or are a dsmp fan/an enjoyer of any of Vivziepop’s works (I don’t like you).

Proshippers DNI. Zionists DNI. TERFs DNI. Vivziepop defenders DNI. Dream supporters DNI. Dsmp supporters also DNI. Do some damn research. Also general DNI… I can’t list everything that makes someone a terrible person!

Do what you want, but it’s not unfair for me to ask for you to do it far away from me.

I might post suggestive things here sometimes, but sparsely and usually in a playful manner. Anything like that would be tagged accordingly, but let me know if there’s something for me to add. I do reblog suggestive content sometimes… I intend to cut down on that though! I don’t plan to ever share nsfw or suggestive content related to td, it makes me uncomfortable as most of the characters are minors.

I do curse a lot, and reclaim queer slurs on occasion. Please don’t engage in ship discourse on my account for no reason! That’s no fun. I do enjoy arguing with people online, but I save that energy for when I’m on TikTok.

I usually take like 3 years to answer asks or dms or whatnot for various reasons… but I swear I don’t mean any offense! I get nervous, or I don’t know how to answer, or it goes missing, or I forget… whatever. But basically… I’m not a passive aggressive person, and I mean no ill will if I don’t answer anything! I have um… a LOT of unanswered asks. My bad. Also I have like 50 at this point.

I reblog a lot, so I tag all my non-reblogs as #original post. I usually don’t tag reblogs on here.

That’s it!

[lololollywrites]

Thank you for the tag, @discordantwords!💜 I don’t have many fics quite yet - just six in the Sherlock fandom - so excuse some repeat answers here.

Most Hits/Kudos/Bookmarks: Most hits is Genius is a Star Whose Light (Is Soon to Sink in Endless Night), which is also the longest fic I’ve ever written and the one that’s therefore closest to my heart (the planning alone took me months!): Sherlock’s previous Serbian captors make their way to London again. It’s newly-established Johnlock (the fic that technically comes before it in the series is a first-kiss fic) and comes in at 51,826 words. I truly can’t understand those of you who meet and even surpass 100k... I bow down.

Genius doesn’t have the most kudos, though, which I think tends to happen with longer works. Most kudos and bookmarks is The Waning of Withdrawal, a oneshot that takes place during the hug scene in TLD (rated E) and that clocks in at 8,249 words.

Most Comments: Most comments is again Genius is a Star Whose Light (Is Soon to Sink in Endless Night), though part of that is surely because, at 11 chapters, they can more easily add up. 

The fic with the highest average comments per chapter (author replies excluded) is again The Waning of Withdrawal, though Never Been Better comes close and has the second-highest number of comments in total. It’s my take on a Sherlock-leaves-the-wedding-early fic, relatively short at three chapters and 16,109 words.

Fourth-Most Kudos: Interestingly (and a little sadly), Genius has the fourth-most kudos. To put another title in here, fifth-most kudos is Pressure Points, my most recent work and FTH entry for @discordantwords. It’s a rewrite of TEH in which John and Sherlock are *both* put into a deadly situation that gets a bit... chilly. It’s four chapters and sits at 19,892 words.

Most Words: Genius, as I previously stated, is my longest fic by far. I’ll likely attempt another novel-length fic eventually, but it took soooo long that I’m a bit fearful of another such ordeal. Either way: When fics come to me at night and ask to be written, I am powerless to stop them.

Least Words: I decided to submit a fic for Flash Fiction Friday almost a year ago for the prompt “Leap of Faith” called Step. Jump. Leap. Step. I turned it into a bit of a prequel for Genius and its preceding fic (actually my first in the fandom, called Of Sweat, Sociopathy, Scars, and Secrets). It’s a drabble in which John decides to come back to Baker Street post-S4 and is only 774 words.

I’ll tag @jrow, @7-percent, @topsyturvy-turtely, and anyone else who wants to join!

ao3 stats game!

I was tagged by @tiltedsyllogism. Thanks for thinking of me!

Rules: Give us the links to your wonderful words with the most hits, most kudos, most comments, most bookmarks, most words, and least words.

Most Hits/Kudos/Bookmarks: (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea, my answer to S4 which sees Sherlock processing what he's endured, and recognizing that change can sometimes be for the better. Written as a Fandom Trumps Hate gift for @thetimemoves

Most Comments: White Knight, a fake-relationship fic that has Sherlock and Janine teaming up to get married for a case, much to John's dismay. The fact that John knows it's all fake doesn't comfort him at all.

Fourth-Most Kudos: Another Auld Lang Syne, a holiday advent fic that has John unexpectedly receiving an out of town job offer and finding himself at a crossroads.

Most Words: Out There, an X-Files fusion that casts Sherlock as Mulder and John as Scully, clocks in at 131,695 words and is BY FAR the longest thing I've ever written. This one merges my two most beloved fandoms and, in a lot of ways, feels like the fic I was born to write.

Least Words: Excluding the myriad ficlets I've collected in Little Contributions, my shortest individual fic is Cake, a Sally-centric piece that is 2,420 words long and recounts the horrifying circumstances surrounding her first meeting with Sherlock.

I'll tag @khorazir @thetimemoves @insistentbass @lololollywrites @totallysilvergirl @bertytravelsfar @viridiandecisions @vulgarweed @keirgreeneyes And of course, if you see this and want to participate, consider yourself tagged!

[mariondeux]

BREAK YOUR HALO

— SYNOPSIS ; A priest praised by god himself, he prays to god for help around the church. And one day, his prayers are answered and you, a special angel, appear in his lovely church.

CW ; NSFW, Corruption, Non-con, size difference, loss of virginity/innocence, religion kink, religious themes, manhandling, dacryphilia, the reader “falls” at the end, possessiveness, obsession, Tatsumi is delusional, forced submission, mindbreak if you squint, jealousy

WORD COUNT ; 2005

PAIRING ; Yandere!Priest!Tatsumi Kazehaya x Angel!GN!Reader

A/N ; This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written on this blog so far.. Also special shout-out to 🥤 anon who requested something similar to this! I hadn’t written your request because by the time you requested it I already had a self indulgent oneshot sitting in my drafts for two days!! 😭 I finally finished it though!

Tatsumi is a priest known far and wide, not just for the great things he’s done as a priest, but for his looks and his heavenly singing voice. He’d spent his life since birth praising the name of god, his faith in the lord above strong as he was granted with the ability to sense evil. He prided himself on what he could do and accomplish; he prayed every week, took part in community services, he enjoyed committing good acts to bless the people.

Lately, he’d been praying to the god far above the clouds for someone, anyone, to help him with tasks around the church. He’d been short on volunteers to help around the church, mainly because the usual ones were extremely occupied or had fallen ill. Surely god would listen to him?

Tatsumi closed the book in his hand and placed it back on the shelf, dusting off his robes before stepping away from his bookshelf. His eyes gazed around the area as he walked out of the library under the church. Now that he’d finished cleaning the library, all that was left was..

‘creaak..’

The priest paused his movement, his eyes darting around the area as he looked for where that noise had come from. Has someone come to praise the lord? But he swore no one would be here today..

He fixed his posture, neatly walking over to where the source was.

Tatsumi paused in his tracks once more, eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

There you were, soft, tiny looking angel wings tucked behind your back as your eyes stared at the church in awe. They did not drape you in chiffon and light fabrics, no; it appeared as though you tried your best to dress in a very humane way. That being a purely white blazer and dress pants along with a white shirt underneath, to top it all off, you wore a simple, silver necklace with the cross hanging off. Your head turned in his direction, and your own eyes widened along with wonder. You were the purest angel of all forms that he’d ever seen, and even by looks alone, you were far more than divine. You were absolutely ethereal.

“Oh, hello! Are you the priest of this fine church?” He snapped out of his daze as your voice broke the silence. He nodded, trotting over to you before coming to a halt.

“And you might be..?” You gave him a polite smile, “I am (name). I’m not too accustomed to being formal, so I’d rather you use my first name.” You held your hand out for him to shake. “I am an angel sent by god to accompany you and help around the church!”

Tatsumi’s throat dried as he stared at your hand. Everything about you was so alluring, you radiated the utmost purity he’d ever seen. You were so polite. He wanted to ruin your innocence and drape your naked body in his essence.

He took your hand and shook it as he plastered a smile over his face. “I am Tatsumi Kazehaya. I do not mind if you’re formal or informal with me.”

That was the first impure thought he’d ever had in his life.

You were of great help around the church. You hid your wings around others and made a great impression on the townspeople. Everyone adored you. They commented on how kind you were and on your good looks. You’ve even captured a few people's hearts. Some days Tatsumi would ‘accidentally’ run into you being confessed to by someone. He’d interrupt them and ask you to come help with a book assortment, placing a hand on your back as he sent the most sinister smile towards the person who confessed to you.

People noted how possessive he was of you, not that you noticed, but he’d have your attention on him often. If he found you talking to someone who he knew had an interest or feelings for you, he’d steal you away. Or, if he felt like you were talking or spending too much time with someone, he’d excuse the person you’re with and steal you away as well.

There was not a day where you weren’t with the handsome priest. He was present in your days almost always now. 

It was growing to be overwhelming, but you didn’t want to really speak up about it. That was, until he finally made you step your foot down. “Kazehaya.. You’re doing it again! Every time that person talks to me, you keep taking me away from them, and.. and… you even gave them an evil look!” Your voice shook as you yelled at him. Hot blood rushed to your face in anger. “This.. this isn’t like you..”

Tatsumi eyed the way your feathers puffed out of your wings angrily. You were genuinely upset with him. You looked up at his face as you noticed how eerily silent he was. “Kazehaya.. Say something, please, you’re creeping me out..” The priest stood there for a couple of seconds before a smile formed on his face. “If I had done this earlier, maybe then no one would ever have bothered to take you away from me..”

Just as you were about to question his words, he suddenly grabbed you, turned you around and pushed you against the ground. He used a hand to grab both of your wrists and pull them back behind you as he ripped off your clothes. You cried out in pain. He was pulling so hard it felt like he’d rip your arms off. Your wings flapped wildly to get him off of you until he stomped on a wing and ripped another cry from you.

“Kazehaya! Stop! Why are you doing this?!” You wept as you lay bare on the ground, your nude body all for the priest to see. Was he really about to take your virginity? If he does, then you’ll be evicted and stripped of your title as an angel. Your heart dropped as your breathing quickened. You were beyond terrified.

“Angel.. Don’t act like I haven’t noticed how distant you’ve been acting. You’ve even stopped referring to me by my birth name.” His dress shoes ground itself against your wings, drawing another loud weep from you. “And you love to call me by my birth name.”

“Tatsumi.. Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything, but just don’t take my innocence! I’ll fall if you do!” You are fully relying on begging at this point. You couldn’t fight back physically and only with words. The priest's sinister grin widened as he felt your body grow limp under his grasp.

He pushed his robes aside and unzipped his pants to pull his cock out. Once the crown of his cock pressed against the entrance of your hole, you knew your constant pleas and thrashing were all for naught. 

“Oh, (name).. You underestimate me. That’s exactly what I want.” He shoved his cock into your hole raw, hissing due to how utterly tight you were. It was no mistake you were a virgin, and even if you weren’t, he doubted you’d be able to go past the pearly gates of heaven like that. His cock throbbed at the sight of his length disappearing into you once his hips were firmly against yours. You weren’t convincing enough for him to stop. He knew you were trying your best when you immediately shifted to using his given name to please him.

Who knew an innocent angel could be so manipulative?

You were violently sobbing as his length split you open, attempting to stretch you out to accommodate him. You knew begging him to stop was useless at this point. You’d been tainted and now god will never allow you back in heaven again. You’re filled with despair. Your luscious, snowy white wings lay spread out amongst you as your body propelled forward each time Tatsumi thrusted into you.

“You’re so obedient~ Are you perhaps enjoying this more than you’d like to admit?” Tatsumi’s particularly large hands firmly gripped onto your hips and bounced you along with his thrusts. He sucked in a breath each time you hungrily sucked him back inside of you. He’s never felt more honored till now to take an angel’s virginity, especially one with an ungodly amount of purity. You were absolutely perfect for him. It was like your body was waiting and begging for him to take you like this all along. If it weren’t for him chasing away any potential competitors, you wouldn’t be here crying just for him. You should be grateful! A priest praised by god such as himself should be the only one tasked with taking your innocence.

You didn’t bother to respond to his words. You didn’t want to indulge in his nonsense, not when you can feel yourself breaking into two and your world crashing down all around you.

“Maybe you secretly wished for me to corrupt you. Dreaming every night to have my hands locked onto your body as you pleasured yourself,” His filthy words had your body shivering in reaction, drawing out a low groan from him as your hole clamped down on him.

“What a dirty angel.” 

You weren’t. You swore you weren’t! You’d never have such impure thoughts. It was a sin you’d never commit.

Tatsumi’s hips rocked against you as he leaned down and dragged his tongue up your back to your neck. He began sucking and licking at your shoulders, back and the back of your neck. He was intent on covering your body with markings from him, to show a claim so anyone that could see would back off.

“You’re mine..” You felt his cock throbbing against your walls as his thrusts dissolved into a more unrelenting tempo. His hands groped and massaged at your body, touching every part of your skin he’d never gotten to until now. You were his now. It was only logical he’d be able to explore your body as much as he could. “My sweet, little angel. Moan for me, moan for your priest to come inside of you.”

This priest was beyond sinister. He was downright malevolent.

You moaned out loud as his cock brushed up against a sensitive part of you. And once he knew that was just the spot to get you to break for him, he began using it against you to break you. The head continued to brush against that part of you, abusing it repeatedly as his teeth bit down on your skin.

“Tatsumi! Please.. release your seed inside an angel like me!” You cried in between words. You couldn’t believe what had just come out of your mouth.

Tatsumi gladly listened to you and fucked you so well, perfectly intent on getting the both of you off.

As his thrusts had grown sloppy and his cock would accidentally slip out of you as you clenched down on him, you two knew you were both close. You were dreading it.

“Close.. gonna fill you with my children..” He bit his lip, letting out a drawled out a groan as his hips struck against yours. He kept your hips melded with his as he emptied his balls out and stuffed you full with his essence, making sure you didn’t drop a single bit of his white cum. Your shoulders shook as light sobs sounded out from you, your legs spasming as you came as well.

That was it. You were done for.

Once the priest finished coming inside of you, he slipped out and let go of your fucked out body. You laid there on the ground, unmoving.

Your wings gradually turned black, the inky color making its way to the base of your wings. The closer it got, the more your feathers fell off one by one. Tatsumi did nothing but watch you fall as he cleaned himself up, tucking his cock back into his pants.

He didn’t feel a single bit of remorse or sympathy for you.

TAGLIST ; @exhokai @shuvies @venniin @leeuxry @s1cklyang3l @4kumaa @ambassadoro @noahrandom @mayoisilly

[viperbarnes]

I posted 3,442 times in 2022

164 posts created (5%)

3,278 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@targaryenvampireslayer

@glittercake

@ussgallifrey

@jen-with-a-pen

@bubblebuckys

I tagged 493 of my posts in 2022

#bucky barnes x reader - 53 posts

#bucky barnes - 49 posts

#bucky barnes/reader - 49 posts

#bucky barnes x you - 48 posts

#bucky barnes/you - 47 posts

#bucky barnes/yn - 46 posts

#bucky barnes x yn - 46 posts

#tfatws - 28 posts

#comment rb - 18 posts

#marvel - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i haven’t been online properly for a few days so i don’t know what happened but absolutely fuck you if you aren’t holding people to account

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

You Are In Love -- Oneshot

[Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Summary:You can hear it in the silence. You can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out, you are in love.

Notes: this is just a widdle something based off of Taylor Swift's 'You Are In Love' which made me cry when I first heard it rip. thank you to @xbuchananbarnes for encouraging me on this one a few months back, and for putting up with me when I left it off with angst in the sneak peek&lt;3

Warnings: allusions to sexy times, mentions of affairs and infidelity, but mostly just pure fluff &lt;3

Words: 3868

See the full post

395 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

#4

The Itch – Masterlist

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: “It seems whatever suppressants HYDRA pumped you with over the years have flushed out of your system at last… you aren’t sick, Sergeant Barnes. You’re an Alpha who hasn’t known an Omega in more than 80 years.”

Warnings: smut smut smut smut smut 18+ PLEASE! also cussing probably, and later the implication of infidelity but sort of not really, (if you have concerns feel free to shoot me an ask and i can explain further!)

A/N: this is just one of two different ABO au's i've been planning for a while teehee, but this is the shorter and more complete one so far! let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

See the full post

493 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#3

The Family -- [Mafia AU, Oneshot]

40's Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky returns home from the war and finds himself with a lifetime's worth of mistakes to make up for. You aren't going to make it easy for him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: smut! gun violence, ptsd, dad bucky (prepare ur ovaries) language, bucky having been a dick in the past, mentions of crime and such. The reader has a name, but it only comes up every so often so.... i think thats it?

Notes: This is one of my fave oneshots that I wrote for my patreon, so unless ya'll used to follow me there, this is an entirely new piece <3 This was basically an excuse to write Mob Power Couple Bucky x Reader, and also Dad!Bucky <3

Words: 17k!!!!!!!!!!!

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1,071 notes - Posted September 5, 2022

#2

The Itch [1/3]

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: “It seems whatever suppressants HYDRA pumped you with over the years have flushed out of your system at last… you aren’t sick, Sergeant Barnes. You’re an Alpha who hasn’t known an Omega in more than 80 years.”

Warnings: smut smut smut smut smut 18+ PLEASE! also cussing probably, and later the implication of infidelity but sort of not really, (if you have concerns feel free to shoot me an ask and i can explain further!)

A/N: this is just one of two different ABO au’s i’ve been planning for a while teehee, but this is the shorter and more complete one so far! let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Word Count: 3.6k

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1,552 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

No Strings Attached

Ex!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: “Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come,” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth. “Every. Time.”

Warnings: smut! language, hurt, exes to lovers &lt;3

Notes: this is one of my fave oneshots i've ever written tbh. i really love the trope of people breaking up, because of xyz issue, and then the person with xyz issue actively works to resolve or change it, but with no expectation of reuniting, just because they want to be a better person. so ye, that's basically this whole fic lmao

Words: 15,849

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4,373 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

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[mirahuyooo]

Under The Sun | myg

Under the Sun | Elysian Tales — Greek Myth! AU

Min Yoongi as Apollo

— She loved everything under the sun. For she is a blissful warmth herself, it would be hard not to like her company. And so, eventually, the sun came to love her, too. 

Word Count: 25,155 words  Content/s: AnGsT, FluFf, pining, strangers to lovers ayEEE, switching POVs (mostly Yoongi’s), vaguely historical setting, BLONDE YOONGI, there’s a girl named Teresa here (sorry if it’s your name already lmao), there’s also a male rival (but not really?????), apollo!yoongi brooding a lot and having a crisis over his feelings, Hyacinthus is his ex btw so he’s mentioned a few times lol, Artemis!Yoonji (yes that yoonji with the bangs) being a good twin sis, brief (but a bit graphic??) mention of death & dead bodies (uhh… happy Halloween???? Lol couldn’t post it in time but oh well AJSDJASD), Yoongi and you kinda go sadistic for a moment (but its dESERVED anyway lol), Greek Mythology AU Pairing: Min Yoon Gi x Reader Inspired by Apollo and Hyacinthus (I think it’d be safe to say that? WHAHSHDAHSD)

[masterlist] | [Elysian Tales masterlist]

A/N: I've been gone for a L O N G TIME AHHAHAHAHA and this biTCH is THREE YEARS IN THE MAKING i dID NOT intend it to be SO LONG either (this is the LONGEST I've ever written a oneshot omfg) HWHAHSHSHSH I couldn’t decide if I want this to be a modern or a historical fantasy but I ended up with something somewhat historical WHAHSH I really did like the concept though so I hope you guys like it too! Enjoy!

In such a small town sitting on the far edge of a kingdom, the people there heavily relied on travellers and merchants coming in to tell them of the current entertainment and ongoings of the capital. And so, musicians were a marvel to come upon—a chance to listen to the possible latest of music. 

The song that filled the air lured people into a humble tavern, gathering around the cloaked young man in the corner playing the lute. His fingers fiddled with the strings and gave birth to music in a way that none of them had ever heard of. Others leaned closer to watch him play, while others reclined to the sound of his music. “What a wonderful tune, sir!” a woman from the crowd claims, sitting by his table, “you must be a blessed child of Apollo.”

She was a beauty with long curls of brown, framing such features that any man would find pleasing to look at. Her blue eyes held a certainty within them, as if she knew her beauty was her weapon above others, and though this may have been true for just about everyone in this town, it doesn’t save her from the disrespect of her actions. She leans towards the musician, a little too close and makes him miss a tune or two. 

Someone else, followed by others, protested against her move. “Let the man play in peace, Teresa!” 

Amidst the hollers, the young man nearly flinched—not that anyone would’ve noticed or cared. Whether the woman, herself, had noticed any discomfort or not, she only shamelessly  grinned, batting her eyelashes at him. Her flowery words did nothing to the man, however. 

He was scowling.

Still, his fingers deliver a smooth end to the tune, ignoring the cheers from the people around him. Having no need for them, the foreigner barely bothers to acknowledge such praises, and simply reaches for the pint he had left unattended before. 

The kind owner of the tavern approaches him with a grateful bow. “Thank you for the music, good sir,” he says to the quiet man, “Would you like another pint? I would gladly give one to you, free of charge.”

A shake of a head was the only reply the old man received, as the musician wordlessly gathered his bearings and slipped past any of those who attempted to approach him for recruitment of his talents and service. He knew better than to trust any mortal, and didn’t even bother to confirm it for himself.            

“Wait, sir!”

The woman, Teresa, from earlier comes chasing after him. “Leaving so soon?” she muses, clutching onto his arm. “Why not play more for us?”

The touch of this mortal on his skin made his blood boil. He glares at the hands that dared to hold him back, before raising a stern glare that takes the woman aback. Eyes glowing for a fraction of a moment, he sees in her eyes the flashes of her life in shambles—a woman so desperate to rile a reaction out of her absentee lover that she had resorted to seducing the rest of the town in petty vengeance.

“No,” he simply tells her, almost having to force himself out of her grasp. “Go back inside now, before your lover sees any of this.”

“I beg your pardon?” the woman stammers, a look of confusion casting onto her once daring features. “How did y—”

Rolling his eyes, the young man leaves the woman gawking outside the tavern, marching anywhere his feet would take him—which, apparently, was the large forest that surrounded the town. A sigh escapes the musician’s lips, as he sought refuge in a clearing. Sitting against a boulder, he looks at the lute on his lap, contemplating.   

The air becomes heavily downcast, in spite of the warm glow radiated by the sun. Those who merely proceed with their lives will barely sense the tinge of woebegone discomfort carried by the still ambiance. Then again, not everyone would notice the sun's lack of fervor in shining—no mortal would in this part of the world.

The golden years of the gods and goddesses have long passed and by the minute, a little bit of nostalgia couldn't be helped. To the great god of the Sun and Music, Apollo—as he was once called—yesterday was but a mirage that slipped past his fingertips. Often did his mind drift down the rich lane of memories, looking back at the ventures that were now merely dismissed as legends among the people.

Apollo. 

He nearly scoffs at the name mortals gave him millennia ago. There was barely anyone now who fully addressed him with all the true respect and worship a god must have. It was nothing but an expression now. There was no Apollo. It was Yoongi at the moment.

Min Yoongi, the stoic musician who travels from kingdom to kingdom. Min Yoongi who lives by his lonesome self, playing music or listening to tunes of others. Min Yoongi whose alluring yet enigmatic aura entices yet intimidates all of those he comes across. Min Yoongi—a name for the mere mortal disguise to mask the identity of a morose god.

Yoongi recalls a much better time when there were days of glorious worship as mankind trembled in respect and fear before the gods. He recalls everything—every delight, every sorrow, every defeat, and every victory.

Yoongi could handle change, this he thinks be certain. In fact, he was one of the gods that had managed to adapt well after the fall. However, the aggravation over the situation couldn't be helped. Though he may have outgrown hubris and no longer demand fear from mortals, he, at least, wanted respect. 

His mind returns to the words of the woman earlier. A child of Apollo? Such a claim so casually tossed—no respect, no nothing. 

Coming to this town was a farce, Yoongi decided. He had wasted his time, hoping to come across something entertaining, and yet this place had no significant affinity towards music, at all.

As nostalgia became the very reason for his own dysphoria, the sun god sat idly by the clearing in the heart of the barren forest. It was, at the very least, somewhat comforting to be surrounded by the warmth of nature that distinctively reminded him of his sister. The putrid stench of villages has always displeased him.

Still, his whirl of emotions was unwavering. Perhaps that is why the grip on his restraints loosened a little and the heat of the sun became alarmingly hotter. Perhaps that is also why the massive grey clouds suddenly rumbled and took over the horizon—Zeus, himself, had noticed the drastic change brought by the fuming deity and decided to intervene.

The pale man looks up, glaring at the sky before sighing. "Alright, alright, father," he scorns, saying the last word in a tone of disdain to defy the king of mankind and gods. The sun god's eyes nearly roll back a century as the sky remains dark with the thunderstorm still brewing. In the long run, he felt the droplets gently trickle down his face before it gradually rained cats and dogs upon Earth. Soon enough, he was soaked to the bone.

Yoongi continues his brooding, undoubtedly not so pleased with the fact that Zeus—or whatever his name is now—continues his efforts for the sake of subduing him. Resentment wouldn't suffice to label his demons. It was somewhere between misery and ire. Then again, there wasn't exactly anything else that he felt for a long time.

"Excuse me? Are you alright, mister?"

Suddenly, a shadow looms over him, causing the rain to divert in accordance to the shape of whatever had shielded him from it. Yoongi was, to say the very least, taken aback by the hush gentleness that filled his ears. He instantly looks up towards the voice, speechless for the fact that it was an actual person and not a mere figment of his imagination.

He looks at the woman before him suspiciously, almost forgetting that she was waiting for a response in the first place. Yoongi was occupied looking at her with his ability, seeing, to his surprise, no ill intent from her in either past, present, or future—at the very least, the current possible future. (Fate is fickle, after all.)

“Sir?”

It was then he decided to open his lips and use his words. "Yes, I'm fine," he delivers the words well, albeit there was an edge to them.

Such words did not deter her, however. "Why do you sit in the rain then?" The woman asks with her head tilted to the side in a slight frown. The curiosity besieging her face was almost childlike. 

Not knowing what else to do, he pushes himself up from the ground, standing up to his full height and awkwardly scratching a spot behind his ear—a force of habit, really. "I, uh," he pauses, "I hadn't really noticed."

How embarrassing. He hadn't felt this graceless since he confronted Hyacinthus about his feelings. Zeus knows how long that's been.

The young woman lightly laughs at his remark. "As much as the rain looks comfortable to you, sir, you'll get sick. Do you not have a place to stay?" she comes to ask as she adjusts a large woven tray over to properly protect the both of them from the harsh rain. Yoongi gives a sheepish shrug as he sends a hand to comb back his wet golden tresses. He hadn’t really fully settled in this town, and thus, have had no lodgings yet for his stay here. 

Still, he was rendered utterly suspicious of the events happening. This woman, this mortal, approaches him with intentions that meant no harm or greed he’s seen common amongst her kind. As a god, he could see through her, after all. She really had approached him with a kind heart and had wanted nothing in exchange. It's always a pleasure to come across genuinely good mortals, Yoongi thought. 

“Are you certain you’re alright?”

Yoongi lightly jolts out of his reveries and sees her staring at him still with curious concern. Perhaps it was his complete inability of taming himself, but the most peculiar thing happened—well, peculiar for her.

Like the blush that flames upon his cheeks, the atmosphere grew humid and it was a stark contrast to the previous cold brought by the thunderstorm. Yoongi sees her eyebrows knit together in confusion as she squirms in discomfort at the feel of both sweat and rain causing the bottom part of her dress to cling onto her legs like a leech. The both of them soon jump at a sound blast of lightning.

Deciding to not leave the woman waiting, the sun god stood on his feet to duck beneath the makeshift parasol. Yoongi couldn't help himself. His eyes spared a glance to gaze at the woman in a more personal manner. Her skin wasn't as flawless as Aphrodite's, but it had a light flush of life in them. Her hair was slightly unkempt, but it flowed freely beneath the protection of a (f/c) shawl. Her steps through the mud were a little bit clumsy, but that was a given with the current circumstances. She was certainly no goddess, but she was breath-taking nonetheless.

“My cottage isn’t far,” she then gestured vaguely to a direction behind her. “You could wait out the rain inside, if you’d like.”

Yoongi soon found himself walking alongside her, tucking his lute beneath his other arm. “Ah, yes,” he coughed, as he matched her hastening pace. “Wonderful idea.”

The sun god realized that the woven tray isn’t doing well to protect the both of them from the downpour, evident by the woman’s backside darkening from the raindrops that wetted it. Yoongi grabs the edges of his wool cloak and lifts it over both of their heads for additional coverage. This startles the woman for a moment, but she recovers with a smile. 

“This way,” she urges, looking onwards.

Yoongi curtly nods. Let’s see how long this charade will last.

Soon enough, the two of them made their way down a clearing and the god’s eyes landed on a small cottage with a few chicken coops and a garden. “Quickly,” she soon ushers him inside after opening the door as quickly as she could. “I know it’s not the best cottage in town, but please,” she smiles, gesturing him to sit down, “make yourself comfortable.”

Looking around, Yoongi takes note of the slight clutter and mismatched furniture. The kitchen and the dining table were a little cramped together, and there was a shelf filled with miscellaneous things. There were also only two other rooms—a bedroom and a bathroom, if he were to guess. It was a fixer upper. It wasn’t exactly a place befitting a god, but Yoongi voiced no complaints.  

What did spark his thinking, however, was how she was so open to offer him, a foreign stranger, shelter from the rain. “Are you usually one to let just any stranger in your home?” he retorts, shrugging his sodden cloak from his figure and setting it down with his lute onto one of the chairs, before taking a seat in another.   

The woman looks up from tending to the stove, staring at him over her shoulder for a moment, but she simply gives a chuckle before returning to whatever it was that she was doing in the kitchen. “Only ones that are in need of my assistance or company,” she tells him kindly, “Why do you ask?”

Yoongi shrugs, watching as she puts a few spoonfuls of some dark powder into two mugs before moving elsewhere. “Are you not worried they might be capable of harming you?” he frankly asks, mind wondering all the same about whatever meal she was conjuring in the kitchen before him.  

Though the question visibly raises her guard around him—her posture straightening, her warmth lessening—the woman dismissively waves at him, almost as if to assure him she could take care of herself. “No, not at all,” she beams, hand now brandishing a rather large knife. She takes a sourdough bread from a nearby basket, slicing through the bread with vigor. The knife was a bit worse for wear, but the blade could still do its job. “I can handle myself just fine, should anyone try to do me any ill will.” 

Though he doesn’t show it, the sun god was taken aback. Whether that dialogue was supposed to be a euphemism or not, for someone who had been so gentle to be vaguely threatening with a knife like that was a surprising twist of events. Did this woman just subtly threaten a god?

“Do you have plans to, sir?” she then asks him, looking at him with her head tilting to the side as she idly spreads some jam over the bread slices. 

Yoongi was knocked out of his stupor. “Of what?”

“Harming me?” the woman gestures to his previous statement just as the kettle started whistling. She tends to the stove, taking the kettle from the fire and pouring the boiling water onto the two mugs on the counter. 

The aroma was wonderful, nearly making the sun god forget about the conversation. “Of course not,” he then scoffs, nearly offended that she would think little of him like that. “I wouldn’t dare stoop so low. You helped me, after all.”

“That’s good for the both of us then,” she smiles, putting the two mugs onto the table along with the plate of jam-spreaded bread. Her eyes, he noticed, relaxed a little, holding onto his unspoken promise. 

It was amusing, Yoongi thinks, how this mortal had gone from being wary to handing him back her trust. This time, he knows, she now truly means for him not to break it, since she had made her point across.

The woman rummages through her small kitchen pantry. “Here,” she says as she places a final bowl of fruits onto the table. “I apologize,” she sheepishly grins as she sits down, “it’s all I can prepare in a short notice.”

The sun god dismissively waves her concerns away. “It’s alright,” Yoongi tells her. It isn’t something I need anyway.

Since the fall of the age of the gods and goddesses, Yoongi had managed to survive years without offerings, and if he had gotten any, he had learned to preserve his powers by simply not using them. A lot of them had learned that humans would only lose more faith if the gods lash out on them.

The light cluttering around him brought Yoongi back to reality, coming to see the woman reach up a shelf to get a jar. She comes back to the table with a triumphant smile, opening the jar—of honey, Yoongi realizes—and scooping a bit of the golden syrup into the clay mug. Only then did he notice the other steaming mug before him. “What is this?” he asks, taking a whiff of the aroma he had been so curious about earlier. 

“Coffee,” the woman smiled, stirring the spoon in her mug. “Haven’t you ever had a taste of it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, looking strangely still at the drink. 

The woman nods, understanding that his confusion and curiosity had made him wary of this new drink. “They were brought in by traders from the south,” she tells him, pointing to a small sack in the pantry. “I helped them camp nearby and gave them some food, so they gave me those roasted beans in return. If you grind them into powder, and add it to hot water with a little bit of honey, you’ll have something warm to drink in the mornings to wake yourself up.”

It was a wonder, Yoongi thinks, what mankind has done with what the gods had given them. He wonders what Demeter would think of this creation as well—if she would stop trying to pry on her daughter's life, that is. 

The sun god takes an idle sip, brown eyes soon widening at the taste of the warm liquid going  down his throat. He couldn't help but take another sip—this time, savoring the flavor more. 

She laughs at his amazement, almost endeared. “How is it?”

“It’s delectable,” he says, a light tug daring his lip to curve upwards.

The excitement in her eyes was apparent at his words. “It is, isn’t it?” she gleefully beams. “The merchants used sugar to sweeten their coffee, but honey is all we could have around here. It’s still good though. I’ve hardly been able to stop myself from having coffee every morning, else I’ll use up all of it in no time.”

Hardly any of the villagers welcomed the trade of the travellers from the south. She, herself, had been wary at first, but she, at the very least, had the decency to offer to find the travellers a clearing to camp in. The scent of the coffee being brewed had drawn her in, and the merchants gave her a small sack as a token of their gratitude. She had easily fallen in love with it.

It was then she shivers, as if her body had only now remembered that they were under the pouring rain earlier. She stops in the middle of biting onto her bread, clearing her throat as she glances at the dead fireplace. “I’ll get a fire going,” she stammers, shyly excusing herself.

As she goes to stand up and tend to the fireplace, however, Yoongi takes note of the fabric of her dress clinging onto her, bearing faint marks of her undergarments. Wordlessly, Yoongi helped the fire come to life much quicker, turning back towards the table so he could give her some semblance of privacy. “You should change your clothes, as well,” he then tells her, sipping on his coffee, “you’re soaked to the bone. You might catch a cold.”

She quickly turns, as if to hide her backside from him, but relaxes when she sees his back turned to her instead. “Right...” she hesitates, though seeing the reason in his logic. 

Clearly, the woman was worried about leaving a stranger unattended at her dining table. “There’s no need to worry, I won’t steal anything,” Yoongi assures her.

The woman stood by the fire for a moment, embarrassed that he had seen through her. “I...” she pondered about it more, but in the end, she admitted defeat. “Alright.”

As she disappears into one of the rooms, Yoongi takes the time to look around the humble little home once more. From what he had seen with his sight earlier, she had others living here with her before—a father, a mother, and a grandfather by the looks of it. The bunch of fabric by the desk on the other side of the room confirms the scene he had seen of her stitching something by hand. She must be one of the town’s dressmakers then. 

He was halfway through his coffee and munching on his second slice of bread by the time the young woman came back freshly dressed and clutching a pile of clothes. She gingerly hands him the pile. “Here,” she says, “You should change too.”

Yoongi looked at what she had given him, a pair of old trousers and a loose shirt, and looked down at his own clothes, suddenly so aware of the feeling of fabric sticking to his skin. Beneath his jacket, his under shirt was soaked and near see-through from the rain. His trousers were darker than their original color and marked with streaks of mud and dirt.  

“They were my father’s,” she adds an explanation when she saw him observing the clothes—not that she had to, really. “I think they’d fit you well enough.”

Yoongi nods, standing up from his seat after taking his boots off his feet. 

She takes his boots and sets them near the fireplace to have them dry quicker. “You can change there,” she gestures to the room she had gone to earlier. Without any further thoughts, Yoongi wordlessly goes to change.

It was much more pleasant than he thought to stay in the mortal’s cottage. 

It wasn’t as rowdy as some of the inns he’s been to, and it was certainly better than taking camp in a forest surrounded by wild beasts. Dare he say it, it was just a little better than his palace in Olympus. 

Perhaps it was the company—the feeling of having someone talk to you, not in fear, or any ulterior motives, or for the sake of politics, but to actually have an engaging conversation. It’s been so long since he has had the pleasure of this. The only people in Olympus he ever tolerated was his sister, Artemis, and his comrades, Hermes and Dionysus, and with the gods trying to keep their respective domains and believers alive, he has hardly ever seen them in decades. 

And yet, this mortal, who he had only met hours prior, had roped him into telling her stories of the world, playing her tunes, and even philosophical thoughts. The two of them sit before the fireplace, having taken the plate of bread and their coffee with them to get warmed up next to their wet clothes. 

“How come you travel so much, Yoongi?” the young woman, (Y/N), asked, watching his hands fiddle with the strings of the lute. 

The sun god froze for a moment. Surely, she won’t be able to comprehend it properly that he’s a god who has lived to see the world for millennia now. “I simply do,” he tells her with a shrug, which wasn’t necessarily a lie. As a god, he can go anywhere he wishes to.

(Y/N) tucks her legs closer to her, resting her chin on the arms that crossed over her knees. “Is that something you do so recklessly then?” she laughs, “Do you not worry about money, settlement, or danger?”

He shrugs again. A god needn’t worry about such things.  

(Y/N), on the other hand, looks at him with a smile that was amused by his careless attitude, but it was also laced with a sadness she carried in her heart. She had been a child once, so curious of the adventures of heroes she had heard from the stories of her grandfather. “I want to see the world, too,” she then quietly muses, “but I can’t bear to leave this place.”

The music falters for a moment, his fingers skidding to a stop to hear such despondence in her voice for the first time since he’s seen her.  “How come?”

(Y/N) looks around the walls of the cottage, eyes dripping with longing for years that have long passed—her mother’s kind caress and sweet smile, her father’s strong shoulders holding her up, her grandfather’s stories from his days at sea. “This cottage was everything to me and my family,” she tells him, “Leaving would mean leaving behind memories of them, too.”

Yoongi was confused for a moment. From the few moments he had seen of her life, her grandfather was a sailor from ship to ship and little (Y/N) always sat on the edge of her seat listening to his adventures. “Would your family prefer you to be held back from pursuing greater things?” he asked her. 

She thought about it for a minute, long and hard. “Yes.”

He watched as she bitterly laughed at her own forward answer. Something in him didn’t like it.  

(Y/N)’s grandfather, so hungry for adventure, didn’t return home from the sea he so loved and her father played hero with his strength, saving everyone but himself in a fire. “My mother told me about Icarus,” she tells him, “how he flew too close to the sun, and that all you should do is be content with what you have so as not to suffer the same fate he had.”

Mortals are fickle, Yoongi thinks. They can be so arrogant and reckless with their lives, but also so cowardly. “Then you will die not knowing the greater happiness you could have if you live with such a fear,” he simply puts it. To think she had been so lively and kind so as to even help and trust a man she barely knows, and yet have such a belief drilled into her head. “Greatness can’t be found if you don’t dare to seek it,” he says, “Take the coffee, for instance. You came upon it as a reward for an act of kindness after you took the chance to approach those merchants. Had it not been for that time, had you been content being by yourself, would you have been able to taste coffee on your own?”

If she keeps herself tied down, the sun god wonders, wouldn’t she lay at her deathbed with so much regret?

“It’s good not to be greedy and be content with what you have,” he hums, acknowledging her mother’s words, “but to clip your wings to stay on the ground when you can fly just fine? You’ll kill yourself far before death takes your soul to the underworld.”

This was the same way Icarus would’ve crashed to the sea if he had flown too low, the waves dampening his wings til they grow heavy. A little courage and crazy never hurt anyone, so long as it is kept in moderation. Then again, this is something he had to realize in centuries, so Yoongi supposed it would be difficult for some mortals to ease into the thought of it when their lives are so short compared to his. 

“You can be greedy for greatness, or defy the path carved for you, fly as high as you want,” he tells her, “so long as you have the reins over yourself, and know when enough is enough. The moment you do, you will have done what you wanted for your happiness, for a life entirely your own.”

It was then Yoongi took note of the deafening silence around him. Tearing his eyes away from the fire, he notices (Y/N) staring at him, deep in thought. Her (e/c) eyes were swimming with emotions too messy and entangled for Yoongi to unravel, but he knew she had needed to hear such words. 

The words that left her lips were barely above a whisper, head still reeling from the weight of his thoughts. “I never thought of it like that...” she confesses, a twinkling in her eyes.

To think of it, had she not have the courage to approach this stranger in the first place, she wouldn’t have heard those words at all. She almost laughs at how funny fate is. To think that she had been unconsciously doing what she had needlessly feared for all along. It was in the littlest of things, yes, but all (Y/N) had to do now was to take a big step. 

Her eyes move from his to the window behind them. The setting sun shone through the trees, and the previous scorn of the rain had come to a quiet hush. “The rain has let up,” she says, standing up to look out the window more clearly. “You may stay here for the night, if you would like to. You have nowhere else to stay, right?” 

Yoongi looks thoughtfully out the window. With the moon peeking at a distance, he scours his thoughts on what to do. It’s only a matter of time.

A look of surprise dawned on her face when he made a decision to shake his head, refusing her offer. “There’s no need,” he tells her, “I have something to tend to.” 

She only nods and doesn’t pry, which the sun god appreciates. Yoongi stands and gathers his clothes, which were unfortunately still a bit damp. His boots were alright, and he had no trouble sliding them on. “I’ll return your father’s clothes as soon as I am able to.”

“Yes, that’d be wonderful,” she tells him, voice faltering as she does so. A part of her is admittedly disheartened by his choice of departing, but who is she to stop him? He is but a temporary guest, after all.

The two of them made their way to the door and she opened it for him. “Alright,” she gives him a little grin, “Be safe then. Stay out of the rain.”

Yoongi’s lips form a smile at the little jest. “You, too,” he says, as he puts the hood of his cloak over his head. “Thank you for letting me stay for a while.”

“Thank you for lending me your thoughts and stories,” she smiles at him warmly, meaning each word. She offers a small wave to the sun god, and he could still feel the warmth of his time in the cottage even as he disappears well into the treeline ahead.  

He feels bad—really, he does—to have lied to such a kind woman.

It’s not that he had anything particularly important task at hand to deal with. It was simply because of the time—the night time. His decision to leave the cottage was not a matter of despise or fear of the night time either, but merely of what it represented. 

He is the day and the sun that nourishes the world as it wakes.

His sister is the night and the moon that watches over the world as it sleeps. 

He may not have seen her in decades, but a low possibility doesn't necessarily mean no chance at all. She may have been hunting, or doing duties nearby. Who knows? 

Yoongi steals a glance at the moon as he comes to a clearing somewhere deep enough in the forest to have no one there to witness him. He raised his hands and channeled an energy to deliver his command.

“Come to me,” he says, eyes glowing.

Waiting long enough, a familiar rumbling of a golden spark at a distance soon comes to him—a chariot of gold drawn by magnificent four white stallions. Yoongi steps on and firmly grips the reins, sending the chariot through the air. 

The moonlight shining upon him felt like a watchful gaze, reminding him an awful lot of his sister. Though he loved her dearly, Artemis was always a critic of his life—specifically in the matters of his relationships with others. His history with romance had made his sister all the more opposed to it, often scolding him for his reckless actions. 

Yoongi doesn’t necessarily see the mortal in any other light than a kind stranger—an acquaintance, perhaps. After all, he had been changed by the times, heart broken enough times to have him learn his lesson. His sister’s concern over him and his heart, however, was great enough for Yoongi to know she would keep (Y/N) on watch and perhaps even confront the poor girl. 

And so, Yoongi rides back to his palace, away from the forest, away from the serendipity that was that little town.

Time has aged relatively slowly for Yoongi. Almost two weeks have passed since (Y/N) gave him shelter from the pouring wrath of his father, and all he had done in the days in between was answer prayers and pace around his palace, deciding whether or not he should return the clothes he had been allowed to borrow during that time. 

Of course, the answer was an obvious yes, but it was the ‘what happens next’ part of the equation that has been occupying the sun god’s mind. Yoongi liked to think of himself as a generous god. (Y/N) is the first mortal he’s had the pleasure of forming a bond with in years, and so, of course, he wanted a better excuse to go back—something meaningful perhaps, something to return the favor and company she had given him.

“What gift would be fitting for someone like (Y/N)?”

It was most unbecoming, really. A god worrying about appeasing a mortal? 

If it would be anything, it would be a fantasy—and yet, here he was, another paragon for the bizarre case. 

“Just one last visit,” he says to himself, “Yes, just one.”

One and he’d never go to that town again.

And so, for a reason he so denies, Yoongi finds himself standing before the woman’s cottage. He tells himself that he was only here for one visit—for returning the clothes, and for coffee. His duties have worn him down, and so the liquid energy that the human called coffee was very much the surrogate ambrosia he needed down his throat. Olympus was, after all, so far away, and the ambrosia he had taken with him was long gone after he had crossed paths with Dionysus and his wife.

After a few knocks on the door, (Y/N) answers. “Yoongi?”

For a moment, she was shocked, but she quickly recuperates upon seeing the familiar face of Yoongi. “Pleasure seeing you here again,” the young woman greets, looking as radiant as ever. “Would you like to come in?”

Yoongi could only give a distracted nod. In reality, pride almost swells in him for being the god that governed the sun, for it was the very thing that had allowed him to see her under a much better light. 

This time, her dress was looser with the same (f/c) shawl from before now embracing her from behind and providing her more coverage. Her hair was more kept now, braided into one that draped over a shoulder. She looked much more casual and at ease than the first time he had seen her. 

Perhaps, she had no errands today. 

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi was brought back from his thoughts, having been embarrassingly caught staring at her. She was standing there, opening the door wider than before and waiting for him to come through. “Forgive me,” He coughs, “I was momentarily thinking of something.”

(Y/N) laughs. “You look tired, too,” she jests, “Come in. I still have some coffee left.”

The god enters the mortal’s humble abode once more, taking in the welcoming atmosphere he’s never able to find anywhere else. (Y/N) was then quick to go to the kitchen and fix him the promised mug of the hot drink he had taken a liking to. Fortunately, she had already been boiling some water. It was for her bath but she supposed it could wait for a while. She had a guest to take care of, after all.  

All the while Yoongi sits himself before the dining table, just as he had weeks ago. It almost feels nostalgic, seeing her go about the kitchen.

(Y/N) looks up from stirring the coffee. “Did you come back from another trip?” she mused, giving him a smile. “Where have you gone this time?”

Yoongi averts his gaze towards the oaken surface of the table, as (Y/N) gently slides the cup towards him. As he accepts the mug, their fingers momentarily brush against one another. The god clears his throat as he brings the mug to his lips. “Home,” he simply said, looking back down to sip at his mug—something he will likely choke on at this rate. “I haven’t been anywhere else really.”

Upon casting a fleeting glance, (Y/N), he noticed, was taken aback by his curt reply. “Oh,” she stammered, a sheepish chuckle escaping her lips. “What have you been up to then?”

The sun god doesn’t really know how to reply. How does one tell a mortal that he’s been answering prayers from loyal followers?

Yoongi begins bouncing his knee. “I’ve been occupied by…” he rummages for the right word, “responsibilities, you could say. I just finished one of them, and thought it would be better for me to pay you another visit now.”

(Y/N)’s gaze followed the gesture he made, hand pointing to the big mass he had brought with him. “You brought quite the bag with you this time,” she muses, walking around the table to take the closest seat next to him. “What have you done to my father’s shirt and trousers?” 

A chuckle flits past Yoongi, before he lifts the bag onto the table. (Y/N) finds herself standing alongside him, as he brings out the pile of clothes he was meant to return in the first place. “They’re just fine,” he tells her as he hands them back to her. “I had them washed. You needn’t worry about them.” 

She sets the pile down to peek over his shoulder, seeing burlap sacks within the bag. Yoongi readily takes one out, and encourages her to open it herself. “What’s this?” she asks, but soon gasps at the familiar aroma that engulfs her senses as she unties the strings. “Coffee?!” she gawks at the bag before her, a grin spreading so big that it started to hurt her cheeks. “Yoongi, where did you get this?”

Seeing such a grin on her lips and such spark in her eyes, Yoongi decides that this sort of happiness was most fitting for her. It was contagious—not even he could exempt himself from its clutches. “I came across some travellers from the south, too,” he then tells her, which was the truth—more or less. 

The prayers that had come in for him to answer were most fortuitous to his effort to keep his mind on something other than that little cottage and its kind owner from that barely memorable village. Alas, the Fates were funny.

It was past midday and he had been on his chariot, having finished his duty as a pastoral deity to an old man and his family who had prayed for the protection of their flock from the sudden surge of attacks going around their town. His quiver was an arrow or two short from hunting down the large wolf he had caught stalking the sheep.

What had stopped him in his tracks—and nearly had his horses trample over one another at the sudden stop—was the faint scent of something awfully familiar. Coffee.

A group of merchants trading coffee, spices and other things had given him the perfect excuse to visit her. “I traded some animal hide for coffee beans,” he tells her, before muttering under his breath, “among other things.”

Excitement whirring in her head, (Y/N) grinned at his story. “That’s wonderful!” she beams, but reminds herself that this wasn’t hers. Alas, it could never be. This was Yoongi’s hard work, after all. “You have your own coffee to brew now,” she muses, still happy to have introduced a person who eventually came to love the dark brew. 

“It’s not mine,” Yoongi instead says, “it’s yours to keep.”

Shock and confusion befell upon (Y/N)’s face. “Mine?” she asks, incredulous, “Why is that? You were the one who traded for these.”

A satisfaction settled within the sun god as he watched the mortal comprehend his words, idly staring down at the measly burlap sack of coffee. “Think of it as a gift from me,” Yoongi urges, “an extension of my gratitude.”

The sun god sees (Y/N) unconsciously pursed her lips in a bashful manner that never served to help Yoongi in his current conquest. “A gift?” she says, words shy as a blush reddened her cheeks. “You have no obligation to give me anything, Yoongi. I only did what I thought was good.”

The only reply she received was a nonchalant shrug. “I insist,” he chuckles at her flustered expression, taking out the small sack of coffee from the bag and bringing out another sack. “This one is yours, too.” 

(E/c) eyes gawked at the item. “What would be inside that then?” (Y/N) now then points to the other sack, curiosity condemning her hands to be itching to open it. She doesn’t know whether she should be terrified or excited. 

Yoongi simply gestures to her to open it, earning a louder gasp than before. The mortal’s mouth was left open as she could hardly believe what she was seeing. She takes a pinch from the sack’s contents, sprinkling the crystalline bits on her tongue. Sweetness erupted, shocking her more than ever. “Sugar?” she exclaimed in awe and in terror, “Yoongi, this is expensive! This is too much!”

Yoongi scoffed, head not at all bothered by such trivial, mortal aspects. He had gotten it now, there was no use taking it with him when he had no use for it. It didn't matter how much he had to spend, either. He only really traded for it anyway. “Nonsense,”  he huffs, “You said coffee can be sweetened with sugar. So, I brought you your sugar.” 

(Y/N) still could hardly process what her new friend had brought her as an extension of his gratitude. Sugar was only ever really for the rich, as they were imports from another far off land and required a lot of arduous work. She had gotten into great trouble once, curiously attempting a little taste of sugar at an old friend’s house as a child. They were farmers tasked to make sugar from the sugarcane brought to them by their lord, and they made it very clear that sugar was precious.   

Just what life has Yoongi led to not have this common knowledge? What drove him to even give her gifts to this extent? 

(Y/N) didn’t really feel worthy to receive such precious gifts. “How come you brought me such gifts?” she asks softly, “You didn’t really have to, Yoongi. Just returning the clothes was fine.”

The sun god was taken aback by the sense of discomfort and guilt in her voice. He hadn’t really thought of this sort of reaction. Mortals like to receive things in turn for their favors—this he has learned in the centuries he had been roaming around the world in his free time. “I...” he stammers, thinking of something to make her feel better. “I wanted to return for a better reason, other than simply giving what’s already yours back.”

That moment at the chariot, his only immediate thought had been not to get himself coffee, but her, recalling her absolute love for the drink. It was so easy to think of it as a fitting gift, but, in retrospect, Yoongi should’ve thought it through more clearly. He clears his throat, finding him looking down at the wooden surface of her little table once again. “I only wanted to give you a gift,” he says, “I never meant to cause you unease. I apologize.”

Upon noting the deflated state of Yoongi, (Y/N) half-heartedly nudged him by the shoulder. “You don’t need expensive gifts to earn yourself an invitation to my measly old cottage, silly,” she tells him, tying the burlap sacks closed before taking her seat beside him. “You are most welcome to come here any time you wish,” she says, but soon playfully glares, “Just not on ungodly hours. I will unleash the chickens upon you.”

A grin dares to erupt from the sun god’s lips. Not only had you so casually nudged him, but you also just called a god silly. “Oh, dear,” he says, most sarcastically, “not the chickens.”

Laughter escapes her lips—the same mellifluous melody as the day he had met her. She then leans on the table, cheek cupped by her palm as she grins at him once again. “But if you really want to pay for your visits…” she muses, “then, I would like to hear more of your adventures as currency, please.”

Yoongi finds himself laughing, the sunlight around him seemingly twinkling along. “More?” he asks, “Have you not had enough of last time?”

Her cheeks hurt from grinning, but it never leaves. “Never,” she says, merely shaking her head at him.

The sun god nods then, admitting easy defeat to her request. “Alright...” he hums, turning in his seat to face her. “There exists this little island called Naxos...”

The two of them continued on, even as the warm brew of coffee on the table grew cold. Such a wholesome moment and such heartfelt words had thrown his initial plan of leaving after one visit out of the window. Here he was welcomed, and where he was welcomed, he was free to stay. 

So, he does. 

It became a sort of tradition—one that only the two of them upheld—to have Yoongi come to the cottage once a week or so and spend their hours either by the table or by the hearth. The time was mostly spent with (Y/N) sitting in anticipation at the endless tales that spewed from the sun god’s lips. He, after all, lived for millennia—not that she was aware of this. 

Sometimes, he would be gone for weeks at a time, rendered busy by either doing orders or favors for other gods or answering his followers' prayers. Still, (Y/N) and her cottage were the ones he found himself going to, his horses now used to landing and waiting on that clearing in the forest. 

To make up for so much time loss, the sun god would bring her something from his travels. They were nothing expensive or overwhelming since he has now learned his lesson, but they were a marvel nonetheless. What he would bring her, aside from more tales, was music. 

The sun god had found himself more sociable with mortals in his pursuit to learn the music of their diverse cultures. He had done this before, of course—his massive collection of musical instruments gathered from thousands of years were in a room in his palace and easily could attest to this—but, he had never really thought to actively seek musicians and ask to learn songs from them just so he could come back to that little cottage with an instrument and play for her.   

For the sun god, it was an escape from the agony of his divinity. In that cottage, he was no god of a forgotten age. He was Yoongi—a man and a friend respected and welcomed. 

There was a warmth that bubbled within Yoongi in the scene of them by the fire, the golden red glow making her intent staring in awe all the more endearing. A peace he had never felt before was always with him. 

For the mortal, it was an escape from her mundane life to imagine the tales that Yoongi told with such vivid detail, her heart longing to someday be able to see for herself. With him, she was simply (Y/N), who was allowed to dream of things that others would’ve scorned her for wanting. This was the sense of freedom that came with the presence of Yoongi.

Her fascination with all his tales were unlike that of her time with her grandfather’s. It felt more alive, more invigorating. She had started saving some money, actually, hoping to one day ask him to let her tag along with him on a trip or two so she could learn to eventually do it herself. 

Alas, a peasant woman working as a humble dressmaker could only earn so much. (Y/N) resorted to working herself to the bone with other things—selling some of her chickens’ eggs, doing other commissions for other towns, and even doing laundry for others.

It was certainly a surprise then for the sun god when he came by on another visit.

“You should’ve been more careful,” the words instantly fell from Yoongi’s lips in a scold as he brought the soup over to the cocooned woman on the bed.

If Yoongi would’ve had it in his ability to turn back time and tell himself that months from his sworn sulking in the rain, he’d be in the cottage of the same young woman he had vowed to avoid like the plague after one visit, then he wouldn’t be that surprised at all, actually. His sister had always faulted him for this, for his awful tendency to care too much. 

Before him, (Y/N) sniffled, not from tears of grief but from the consequences of her carelessness. She messily blows into a spare piece of cloth, somehow still in a beautiful glow that quelled the sun god’s heart. “I know, I know,” she said, clogged nose and all, “I shouldn’t have overworked myself, should’ve looked out for my health. However, no one else would have taken care of the chickens, Yoongs. What else was I to do?”

In the manner she pouted at him, Yoongi’s breath hitched, mind racing and heart cursing the Fates for all of this. Yoongs—a name he never had thought he would allow himself to be addressed as—became his most favorite thing to hear from her. 

“Yoongs?”

There it was again.

“Yoongi?”

The sun god was knocked out of his stupor. Perhaps, he may have been getting too carried away with all of this.

Yoongi noticed (Y/N) staring at him, now sat up from her previous position on the bed. She was already halfway with her bowl, and already feeling progressively better thanks to the ancient remedy he secretly poured in with the soup for her. “Y-yes?” he finds himself stammering, unbecoming of a god of his calibre and status. Oh, if Zeus could see him right now.  

In spite of the confusion in (Y/N)’s head, she repeats what she had meant to say. “Thank you,” she said with a ghost of a smile lingering on her face, “you didn’t have to come all the way here to take care of me, but you did.”

Yoongi wasn’t quite sure where he got the sudden bout of courage from, but he lifted his hand and gently ruffled her (h/c) hair. “No one else would’ve taken care of you, (Y/N),” Yoongi said, “What else was I to do?” 

She glares, but a grin daring to break through her lips betrays her supposed anger. “Are you drawing parallels between me and my chickens?”

Yoongi barely exerts effort in holding back a grin. “I said no such thing,” he said. 

A fit of coughs rocks through the poor girl, ruining the light moment as she turns her head away from him to stifle it into the crook of her arm. Yoongi sighs at the sight of this, approaching her bed and channeling his power little by little through his fingers as he gathers her hair in his hands. To keep her from turning back to face him and see the light glow flowing from him to her, he decides to braid her tresses the same way he had learned to braid his sister’s hair when they were young. 

He finishes the braid in time to have his power simmer within her very being. It will take time, since he had elected against an immediate recovery to have her not be suspicious of anything. “Rest after this, alright?” he tells her, voice soft but firm. “I’ll watch over the chickens while you recover.”

(Y/N) weakly laughs, recalling the time Yoongi got chased around by one of her chickens. His shrill screams echoing throughout the yard as it pecked at his ankles for accidentally stepping too close. “Ebony is not quite fond of you though,” she tells him. “What then?”

An embarrassed blush conquered the stoic musician's face at the memory of that dark feathered bird.  “I will smite him if he ever dares to chase me through the garden again,” the sun god grumbles. It wasn’t his fault animals were more partial to his sister. 

Eyelids growing heavy thanks to his powers, (Y/N) lays herself back down with Yoongi quick to tuck her in. “Don’t smite my chickens, please,” she says with a yawn. “I need them.”

He only nods. “Sleep, (Y/N).”

And so, she does.

Yoongi sat there, at the edge of her bed, suddenly very much aware that his cold heart had, at some point, thawed  during his time with her, now leaving him there with a mess of a sentimental puddle. This, he was certain as he felt the rapid beating of his heart to an oh so familiar rhythm of impending chaos, similar to that of the ones he had felt upon his bygone lovers. 

‘Oh no’, he dreaded then and there, ‘not again.’

The sun god found himself glaring at her sleeping figure, though, in reality, he was scolding himself for letting this happen. ‘You, fool! Had you not gotten anything from the past thousands of years you’ve been alive?!’

Yoongi was certain he had known all sorts of love, at this point—unrequited or not, love has never lasted or has never been. His last taste of it was from a sweet prince loved by all—loved by him. Hyacinthus was one of the few he had the pleasure of calling an actual lover. 

He didn't run, nor did he reject. Instead, the prince chose him. Out of all the gods and mortals who admired him, Hyacinthus chose Apollo. It was bliss—one that had been taken away too quickly. 

Yoongi's heart clenched at the very memory of it—of the weakened prince in his arms, of the life fading from his eyes, of the one last whisper of love. No matter how much Yoongi had grovelled or how much he had drained himself from trying to heal him, Hyacinthus died because the Fates fated him to. 

Love is tragedy. This, he engraved in his mind. Yoongi had sworn love would never have a hold on him ever again, and yet here he was. 

His walls were weakening—already has. 

It dawned on him that Min Yoongi is still the Apollo infamously known for falling head over heels for people he cannot have after all—a brutally soft god beneath the cold layers he had convinced himself would protect him from the forces he had once been swayed under.

Who is to blame for all of this?

Was it the Fates who made their paths cross in the first place?

Was it Eros who reigned over matters of romantic love?

Or, was it himself who had failed and let himself be with her? 

The sun god's head hurt at the thoughts that were now at war in his head. There was no use pointing blame when the damage had already been done—when his heart already deemed that it would beat, ache, break for her and her alone. 

Yoongi looks down at the woman sleeping so soundly, unknowing of the fact that she had caught herself a god in her clutches and could easily tug by the heartstrings to do her bidding—unknowing of the fact that the Yoongi she knew was but a front for a god who had come to love her and the coffee she would brew.  

It wouldn’t be bad—says the part of him that dared to urge him further into the mess at hand, looking for hope amidst the chaos. (Y/N) was someone who was kind and welcoming about everything and anything, someone who would smile and look at him in awe. Wouldn’t it be nice to love and be loved by her?

Yoongi froze at the what-ifs blossoming from that one question. He takes a deep breath, easing himself—easing the heating of the sun outside the walls of this cottage. 

With a grunt, Yoongi stands himself up from the bed, feet leading him through the small spaces and out to the yard where the chickens idly pecked at the ground. A certain chicken looks up and stares him down, but the sun god did not let up either. This little bastard should be glad to be under the protection of a god. 

It was then that he had caught himself. 

This little bastard should be glad to be under the protection of a god.

Under what circumstances would he have expected this? To put up with such a menial task, to stay in the vicinity of a pesky little critter, to risk being pecked at like a fool instead of going back to his palace—all for the sake of a promise to a mortal. A promise, mind you, that wasn't even officially spoken into existence. 

He could leave. Nothing binds him here, after all. 

But he won't—not when she was still so unwell. He wouldn't dare to. 

"Ah!" Yoongi yelps out of his reverie, looking down to see Ebony circling him. He manages to wrangle the angry bird into his hold. "Stay put you little menace!” the sun god aggressively hushes, “She's sleeping!"

Another sigh left his lips as he put Ebony down with the others. So much thinking, so much annoyances. 

Ignore it, then—a third voice offers. Ignore it for now.

The sun god finds himself nodding. Yes, that’s a sound plan.

Yoongi tried—he really did—but what use was ignoring the situation overall when the very existence of her ignited the two warring sides in his head every time? 

It didn’t help either that this had been the longest he had ever stayed over at the cottage.

A day had passed since he had come across (Y/N)’s aching state, and had since stayed with her in order to ensure she had fully recovered. For the sake of his heart, Yoongi had insisted on sleeping on the old bench in front of the fireplace during the night—something the exhausted (Y/N) couldn't argue him out of—with only two fairly thick blankets and a measly spare pillow to have with him for sleep. 

“Are you certain you would want to stay the night here, Yoongs?”

The rasp in her voice only served to strengthen Yoongi’s resolve, making him nod as he took the warm bowl of soup over to the dinner table. “You’re sick, (Y/N),” he simply says, sitting down in front of her. “It would also be too late for me to travel now, anyways. There are wolves and all sorts of beasts out at night, and I hardly came prepared.”

That was a lie—obviously.

Still, a worried frown remains on the young woman’s face as she gingerly takes the spoon and begins eating the dinner he had made for the both of them. “I have no spare bed for you to take,” she tells him, knowing he couldn’t exactly share the bed with her either—else he would catch the cold she had. Her father had sold grandfather’s old bed so they could make end’s meet then, and she lives alone now, too. Where would Yoongi sleep then?

Yoongi takes her concern into consideration, looking around the cottage with eyes landing on the wooden bench by the fireplace—the one they often sit at to chat away. “There,” he gestures, “I could sleep there.”

(Y/N)’s eyes followed the direction of his nod, seeing the old furniture she had watched her grandfather and father build as a child. “Nonsense,” she tells him, head whipping back almost too quickly and making her hiss a little. She ignores the concerned frown that tugs at Yoongi’s lips. “You would barely be able to move in that thing,” she reasons, “you’d fall to the ground!”

The sun god shrugs. “I’ve slept in worse places before,” he tells her, “It wouldn’t be a problem, I assure you.”

“But—”

Yoongi leaves no room for any more arguments, nudging her bowl closer to her, “Eat,” he commands, firm but soft all the same. “It’s getting cold.”

(Y/N) was right, of course. It was uncomfortable with barely any space to move, yes, and he did fall off somewhere in the night, but he would have hardly been able to sleep if he had gone home and left her to herself.  

“Yoongi?”

The sun god awoke to a light nudging on his shoulder, something he couldn’t help but be annoyed about. The guttural groan that left his mouth in protest stops as the one eye that begrudgingly opens sees (Y/N) crouching beside him. He would’ve thought it to be a dream—what with the sunlight gracing her with a golden glow and all—but the constant ache at the back of his neck was the pinch making it known to him that this was reality.   

(Y/N) had woken up fully recovered early this morning, courtesy of him spending the time in between them yesterday secretly infusing his powers into her slowly but surely. She was still a bit sluggish, but she was well enough to get up on her own and check her guest. Seeing him instinctively rub at his neck in pain, however, made her feel guilty. “I told you that you would fall off this old thing,” she attempts to jest, but the sigh that follows her words betrays the light-hearted attempt. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi got up from the floor as best as he could while entangled in the blankets. “I’m alright,” he assures her, giving himself a second to ease his muscles. The pain, of course, easily subsided, thanks to his godly prowess. “What of you?”  

The young woman grabs one of the blankets, starting to fold it as he does the other. “A lot better, actually,” she then beams, “your soup works far better than any medicine it seems.”

A smile gingerly blooms on the god’s face, knowing it wasn’t just the soup. “Secret family recipe,” he shrugs, grabbing the other blanket from her and stacking it with the pillow on the wooden bench that made things difficult for him last night.  “I’m glad it has made things easier for you.”

“I’m glad you were here for me when you were,” she tells him, wrapping her (f/c) shawl around her sheepishly. “Else I would’ve been bedridden for days.”

The compliment takes the god aback. “There’s no need to thank me,” he softly hushes, “What sort of friend would I be if I left you on your own when you’re sick?”

Friend. 

That word left a bitter taste in his mouth to say.

Still, a warmth dusted on both of their cheeks—something they would’ve seen, had it not been for them being so flustered that they rushed to do separate things. Yoongi idly went to the kitchen and (Y/N) looked out the window to briefly check on her chickens in their coop.  

It was a beautiful day with the sun shining brightly on the world. There were just the right amount of clouds in the sky to make the heat of the sun bearable. Thankful for his efforts in taking care of her, (Y/N) had decided that they needed to do something to compensate for the lost time. 

“Yoongi?” she calls out to him, closing the windows. She sees him setting the table with some bread and fruits while some eggs fry on the pan. The sight of this pops an idea into her head. 

“What is it?” Yoongi asks, as (Y/N) hastily comes into the kitchen, going through one of the cupboards and taking out a basket. As she dusts it off, the sun god incredulously watches her lay out some cloth onto it. “What are you doing?” he chuckles at the evident delight in her steps. 

The young woman stops putting the bread in midway, looking up to grin at him. “We wasted a lot of time yesterday,” she tells him, “I thought we ought to make up for it.”

What exactly that was, Yoongi didn’t know, but how could he ever say no to that hopeful and excited smile on her face?    

As it turns out, it was a picnic. 

(Y/N) takes him to a field on the outskirts of the forest that has a nice breeze and a nice view of the distant neighbouring town. The two of them laid down a blanket on the grass, setting the basket there before sitting down themselves.

“This is a better view than that ol’ fireplace, is it not?” she muses, happily munching on one of the sandwiches Yoongi made for the two of them. “We should go here more often, actually.”

The sun god simply hums. In truth, he preferred that old fireplace—fire faintly crackling, huddling closer together, talking hushly amongst yourself because it was late. It was more intimate for him—more sentimental.   

This alternative, Yoongi thinks as the wind gently blew away at her hair and made her close her eyes to savor the breeze, was a good view, but it could never suffice to replace that place in his heart. Either way, what bliss it is to spend time with her—to be able to idly sit and share stories while the world goes on around them. 

(Y/N) begins telling him about the time her mother brought her out here for a picnic too, but the sun god could barely look at anything else other than her—the way her lips smile and form words, the way the wind fluttered her hair around, the way the backdrop of the sunny sky and flowery fields made the whole scene so beautiful his hands itched to capture the moment in a painting. 

It was hard for Yoongi to keep his feelings to himself, when he had been so used to easily declaring his affections to mortals before. Were these millennia ago, he would’ve been elated and unbothered. He is a god. Why would he have to worry about what a mere mortal thinks?

This was something he cannot do now, however—not that he would do so anyways, even if given the chance. He knows well that such arrogance would only lead (Y/N) away from him. Over and above that, if time and fate have ever taught him anything, it would’ve been that love isn’t meant for someone like him. Tragedy befell all of his lovers, and he surely wouldn’t want this young woman to turn into a plant or jump into the sea anytime soon. 

Yoongi wondered then, if he wouldn’t actively pursue (Y/N), would it guarantee less heartbreak?

“Yoongi?”

By the time the sun god’s mind returns to reality, he sees (Y/N) looking at him in confusion and concern. “Are you alright, Yoongs?” she asks him, head tilting to the side. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

His face and ears redden from the state he was caught in. “I just have something in my mind...” he says, settling for a vague truth. “I apologize for getting preoccupied.”

Her expression softens, scooting closer and resting her cheek against her palm as she gives her full attention to the man next to her. “What are you so busy thinking about, hm?”

Yoongi was silent, certain he can’t exactly tell her what he was really thinking about at the moment. No. He needed time—time to think, to process, and to decide on his feelings.

“I’ll be leaving soon,” he opts to say, instead. Yes, some time to himself was what he needed. 

“Oh...” (Y/N) seems to falter at this news, but she recovers with some pep in her smile. “Where to?”

The sun god felt the awful guilt weighing his heart down. She must think it’s another simple trip. “I don’t know,” he says, playing along, “I’ll tell you when I return.”

A chuckle escaped her lips, as a part of her itched to ask him to bring her with him. Alas, seeing Yoongi’s current disposition told her that he’s facing something he’d want to deal with on his own.  “Alright,” she smiles, a bit forced but still well-meaning. “Stay safe and come back, alright?”

(Come back to me.)

Something in him says he will. He always will. “Always.”

This, the sun god definitively affirms, was a worse case than Hyacinthus.

It has been weeks since Yoongi left for somewhere with the last moment you saw him still engraved in your head. 

“Take care,” you told him, neck straining as you looked up at him perched atop a white horse.

The musician fiddled with the reins in his hands. “You too,” Yoongi softly smiles as you take out something from underneath your cloak. “What is it?” 

You sheepishly hand him a flask. It was warm. Yoongi seemed to notice this as he took it in his hands. “It’s coffee,” you explain, “I thought you could use something to keep you warm along the way.”

There was a moment of silence filled with Yoongi staring at you with an indecipherable expression. “Thank you,” he tells you, words weighing something more than they mean to, “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

Your eyes soften, heart warming at his words. “I know,” you smile, “See you soon.”

Yoongi nods. “See you soon.” 

A part of you hoped for a way to send letters to him immediately—to ask him how he’s going, where he is, what he’s seen—but it wasn’t possible. At best, it would take months, or not at all. All you could do was wait for your dear friend to return.

“(Y/N), dear!” 

You were knocked out of your reverie by a familiar voice, turning around to see an old friend coming towards you. “Teresa?” you ask incredulously, “What are you doing here?”

You were at Madame Louise’s shop, turning in the dresses you’ve just finished putting together last night. The brunette now came to link arms with you, startling you quite a bit. You let it be, knowing it’d be no use wrangling your arm back from her.

Again, what is she doing here?

“I saw you coming in!” the brunette beams, before showing you the fabric in her arms. “I have some dresses to turn in, as well.”   

It was a stretch calling Teresa a friend, when most of your interactions together were simply her making the first move to strike up a conversation with you. She wasn’t a friend the same way Yoongi was to you. You don’t particularly look forward to her arrival, and don’t necessarily think about spending time with her. The two of you simply used to be playmates as children, running around the field, making flower crowns, and whatnot. 

The two of you, as some of the town had put it, were opposites. You were timid. She was bold. You prefer being in a quiet environment. She was a frequent patron of the rowdy town tavern. The list could go on, really, but. in spite of her reputation as a vixen, you don’t actually mind the girl. She was nice and someone who knew what she wanted. What you do find irritating about her was her tendency to—

“So, is it true?”

—gossip.

You hold back the urge to sigh. “What is?” you ask, entertaining her excitement. 

Teresa giggles, nudging your side. “You and that foreign musician,” she muses, just as one of the employees came out from the back of the store. “He’s been coming back to town for months on end. Rumor has it he has asked for your hand in marriage—good morning, Marie!”

“Good morning,” the young lady greets, taking Teresa’s handiwork.

If you had a drink, you would’ve choked on it and spat it out, but you didn’t and so you simply just froze in place. Marie had to take the dresses from your hands herself. “I… I beg your pardon?” you squeaked, ears and face turning red. “Me and Yoongi? Married?”

As Marie leaves you two be, the brunette next to you hums, taking in your flustered reaction with a cheeky grin. “So, his name is Yoongi, huh?” she ponders, “I must admit, a peculiar handsomeness surrounds that man.”

Your head tilts in confusion at the manner she spoke of him, lips itching to voice your question. “How come you know him?” you ask, your head still reeling from what Teresa had just told you minutes prior. The whole town thinks Yoongi is courting you?

The both of you exit the shop, Teresa’s arms still linked with yours. “I saw him perform in Leonard's tavern on his first day here,” she tells you, “was a bit of a recluse, and he didn’t seem to like company. I don’t know how, but he brought up Thomas to get me to leave him be—as if that would’ve worked.” 

Yes, that sounds like Yoongi, alright. “He isn’t fond of company,” you nod, finding yourself giggling.  

Walking through town, people turn their heads and murmur at the sight of Teresa and you. Used to it, Teresa ignores everything else aside from your conversation. “He seems to like yours, however,” she teases, “What’s he like, dear?”  

Your mind drifts to the musician who’s been coming to your quiet side of the woods—his blond tresses, warm brown eyes, and catlike behavior. You think of how he easily gets lost in his element and effortlessly creates music, how he brings a new instrument every now and then to play you the new music he learned, and how he becomes flustered with a gummy smile on his face when you praise him.  

Catching yourself getting carried away, you return to the real world and  turn to your gossiping acquaintance, face still so red. “He’s a friend. Nothing more, Teresa,” you insist, though you don’t sound at all convincing. 

“Really?” Teresa muses, clearly not believing a lick of what you just said.  “Why does he come back so often then?”

For a moment, you find yourself thinking that as well. “He simply visits, because I asked him to,” you say, more to yourself than Teresa, really. “We make something to eat or drink, we spend the time talking, sometimes he plays music too, then by the end of the day, he leaves.”

Teresa laughs at the brisk flash of panic and confusion in your eyes. “If it’s simply just the talking between friends, then I doubt he would return much,” she tells you, as you two reach the outskirts of the small town. She lets your arm go and sits on a boulder, stopping your little walk. “Why does he still come back? Isn’t he a foreigner?” she poses a challenging thought, “How far must he live from here and yet still come visit you just because you asked him to.” 

(She doesn't go on to tell you the things he’s been seen doing around town. How he was almost always seen somewhere in the forest heading towards the direction of your cottage and how the second time he did come to town, he had rushed around the market for vegetables to make soup with.)

Her series of questions, however, were enough to shut you up for a good minute or two, sending you into another spiral of mulling things over. “Well...” you mumble, sitting next to her, “I don’t know. It’s not my place to say, but his.”

The woman takes pity in the crisis she started in your head, taking a gentler approach. “What about you, then?” she softly urges, “What do you think of the musician?”

Obediently—and against your better judgement—your mind comes back to the thoughts of that musician. “Yoongi is...” you pause, a smile slowly stretching across your face, “kind, gifted, and considerate. He doesn’t say it but he cares a lot, even for the chickens.” 

Teresa smiles at your words, looking at you in keen interest with her palm against her cheek. “Do you really not see yourself with that man then?” she asks, genuinely curious.

The question brings you back to the start of this whole ordeal with the rumor Teresa brought up. Up until this point, you haven’t really thought of Yoongi under that sort of light. Do you see yourself with him?

You and Yoongi’s union would be announced at the front door of the town church, to be attended by the townspeople and officiated by the bishop. You’d be wearing your best blue gown, and him in his best tunic. A feast would follow after, and maybe Yoongi would play some of his music for all. It would be nice.

—if it wouldn’t ruin your friendship with him.

“No,” you shake your head. “Yoongi is just… Yoongi.”

Teresa notes the despondence that soaks your expression, the way you deprive yourself of a mere fantasy. “And if he were to find himself other prospects? If he settles down somewhere else with someone else and doesn’t come back here anymore?” she challenges you again. “What then?”

The thought of Yoongi with someone else and not returning stirs an ache in you that you never quite expected. It would’ve been sad, obviously, but your heart clenched so much that it rendered you at a loss for words.

“I...”

Oh no… 

Do you like Yoongi that way after all?

 There lies a satisfaction on Teresa’s face as she sees the cogs turning in your brain. “So much hesitation, darling,” she muses, “is he really just Yoongi to you?”

You couldn't find it in yourself to shake your head anymore, or respond at all, actually. Still mulling over the prospect of your feelings towards that blond musician, you could hardly find the energy or effort to respond to Teresa.  

If you are as smitten as Teresa thinks you to be, then how could you bear facing Yoongi now? It'll take a great strength in you to manage looking into his eyes when he comes back from his voyage—what more talking and being so close to him. You have doomed yourself—No! Teresa has doomed you! 

Had she not come to gossip, had she not poked at you and Yoongi's dynamic, you wouldn't hav—

A gentle caress on your head makes you look up. Teresa smiles at you in assurance. “A good man is just as rare and precious as a love that’s real and sweet, dear,” she tells you, “Think long and hard about what your heart says and wants. Then, tell him, before you regret it—before you lose your chance.”

Your heart swells at the words, the chaos in your head subsiding. “Thank you, Teresa,” you smile, grateful, “I’ll keep those words in mind.”

Teresa looks at you for a moment, a storm brewing in the blues of her eyes. “I envy you, (Y/N),” she confesses, “I really do.”

Picking at her fingers, Teresa's words come out weary. “To find yourself in the company of a man who truly cares and takes care of you,” she muses, a bittersweet smile on her face. "You're truly blessed."

She looks out to the town bustling before the both of you, cheekiness and daredevil attitude damned. You are then reminded of the young woman who came to you crying once or twice. “Have you and Thomas still not come around?” you find yourself asking before you could stop yourself. Eyes widening at your reckless mouth, you cover it shut. "I'm sorry." 

Teresa dismissively waves, eyes hardening at the memory of her husband. “We will never come back to the way we used to be,” she says with such finality you'd think it was written in stone. “I’ve come to terms not to exhaust myself with matters so helpless,” she declared, sighing to herself before grinning, “I'm just having fun now.”

Your eyes furrowed in concern for her and her reckless behavior. She had sworn before you once—after you had seen her break down in tears for a full hour—that she would never again put her faith in men. She would use them the same way they used her. She had built her scandalous reputation on this. It was a rebellion and a vengeance against her husband who had forsaken her, but it was a coping mechanism as well—a way for her to feel something. 

Teresa chuckles at your troubled gaze. “Don’t worry about me, (Y/N),” she tells you, “you and Yoongi will do much better. I just know it.”

The two of you were opposites, but Teresa always meant well. You may not be as close as she makes it seem to be, but she is definitely a person in your life that you will never forget. This little moment with Teresa that brought your feelings into light, gave it hope, and flourished it, is a moment you will forever keep in your heart. 

—which made it all the more painful, when the news of her death came around the following week. 

No one knows the exact events that had transpired. 

Her body had been found downstream, all the way in the next town over—bloated, pale, and almost unrecognizable. Before the villagers had delivered the grave news, the town tavern owner, Leonard, had already taken note of the lack of her boisterous presence for three days in a row. No one really bothered to know or care, until Thomas, himself, came to check the body of the woman found. 

All of a sudden, the murmurs came plowing through the town. The town whore is dead. 

It was an accident. That's what the first round of gossip said. Teresa must've fallen into the river by accident, they suggested. She must've been carried away by the current and drowned!

It's suicide. That's what others sneered. She must've gotten pregnant from one of her escapades, they claimed. Or maybe all that shame finally latched onto her.

One of those is clearly more plausible than the other. The suicide theory was one largely based on malice, one that jealous men and women spread to rake her name through the mud more than it already is. 

You may not have known her on a personal level, but you found it unlikely that Teresa would ever resort to ending her own life. She had told you herself that she would rather go down fighting than to kill herself over the grief the betrayal her husband had caused. 

Then again, that cannot be fully ruled out in the list of possibilities. You don't know if anyone else had seen the side of Teresa you had seen, but the town whore that everyone scorned and envied was a broken girl that lost faith in love and the world, letting her name be sullied in the name of riling her husband up. 

Could she have really done it to herself?

You didn’t know—and it pains you.

Staring at the ground that held Teresa beneath, the prayers of the priest and the people around you faded away. You didn’t have the chance to see her before the burial—no one else in town has, either. They say the river turned her face terrifying, and so, her whole body was wrapped in the winding sheet with only her husband and family members to say their final goodbyes. 

Her last smile burns in your head, the same way tears stung your eyes. You tug your (f/c) shawl tighter around your frame. The day felt colder today, the sky rumbling in a murky gray that foretold the coming of a storm. 

It didn’t help the feeling of losing a friend.  

In the days that followed, you felt more alone than ever. Not only has Teresa’s passing left you mourning still, but Yoongi’s influence over your life has also gotten more and more apparent the more you had time to think about it. To add to that, every time you came to town, gossiping whispers and stares were drilling holes into your very being. What they talked about, you weren’t sure, but it was safe to say you were getting next to nothing when it came to sleep because of these things.  

Today you awake, still in your sleepwear with no real motivation to change and go out in the world. Alas, you did have a few duties in your home that you do have to do, and so, you were out of the bed with a little oil lamp in hand, navigating the slightly dim path out your room. 

You set the oil lamp down the dinner table and open up the windows to let in all the light. After idly braiding your hair, you started a fire in the stove and set the kettle over it, waiting for the water to boil. Outside, your chickens wake, too, the rooster also later crowing out its call. 

With this, you officially start your day. 

The sunlight peeks through the windows as if in some attempt to give you the warmth that you’ve been lacking in your life. The sunny day felt nice, if you must admit, taking a little of the weight off your shoulders. Pairing that with a nice cup of coffee in hand reminded you of your days with a certain someone. 

Min Yoongi. 

At the thought of Yoongi, you wonder again how he is doing—if his travels led him somewhere cold or hot, if he’s learning another song, or if he’s thinking of you as much as you were thinking of him. It’s a fantasy, you thought to yourself, but it’d be nice if he did—even if it were only as a friend.

Alas, hearing your chickens cluck a commotion outside, you were pulled out of your thoughts. You set your cup down, wrapping your (f/c) shawl over your chest tighter for some decency opening the door in your nightgown. The knob was a bit stubborn, but you managed to ease the door open.

“Thomas?”

You didn’t have the effort in you to hide the surprise on your face. There stood the lean man Teresa had often cried to you about, easily looming over you with his height. You haven't seen the man since the funeral, and you were quite unsure how to feel about his sudden visit. 

A pool of anger simmers within you from the image Teresa has painted in your head from all her stories—how he was unfaithful, how he acted like she never existed, how he couldn't care less about people harassing her even before she lost faith in the world and let her reputation swallow her whole. This was the man that led Teresa on a path to self-destruction.

But he was also an old "friend"—a playmate, really—and a man who hasn't done anything directly wrong to you just yet on this fine day (other than to ruin your reveries, that is).

And so, you settle for a small smile. "Good morning," you curtly quip, "May I help you with something?"

Thomas visibly perks up, as if he had been lost in thought, too. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he greets, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips. "I'm truly sorry to bother you so early in the day, but I thought it would be good to bring you something that Teresa would've wanted you to have."

In his hands was something wrapped in an old fabric. "What is it?" You asked, head tilting as you hesitantly took it from his hands. 

"It's a dress," Thomas answered. "A wedding dress."

Confusion besets you. "A wedding dr…?" a soft gasp leaves your lips as you unfold the worn brown covering, revealing a simple but beautiful blue dress. Your fingers gently glide over the cotton, noticing that the delicate embroidery at the trims weren't finished—the answer is obvious as to why.

"Oh, it's beautiful," you coo, tears stinging your eyes even as the smile that blossoms on your face tries to stop it. Even in death, Teresa encourages you to pursue your heart.  

"May I come in?" 

You broke out of your trance, looking back up at him. "What?"

Thomas' green eyes squint as he looks at the sunny sky. "It's awfully hot out," he tells you, before gesturing to the dress. "I also want to see more of the dress."

"Oh…"

You look at him still—at the way the sunlight made the top of his light brown tresses a bit more golden, at the discomfort written partly on his face. You were tempted to keep him there, but you took too long mulling over his words that it would be rude to deny him now. 

Wordlessly, you opened the door wide and stepped aside. You focus your attention on the dress, admiring the embroidery one more time before holding it out, the fabric flowing down and stopping at a decent length for your height. 

"She said it's a wedding dress," Thomas hums, taking a seat at the bench by the fireplace. "Are you really getting married?"

There was a slight grit in his words that caught you off guard, breaking the ease of the smile you forced out of your lips. "Eventually," you awkwardly muse, "Every woman has to, yes?"

Thomas nodded, but with the way he stared off somewhere, his mind was clearly some place else. "To whom?"

A shyness suddenly sieges you. "Well, it's uncertain for now," you say before channeling an ounce of hope and confidence from the words Teresa had left you before. "But, I am hoping to get the affections of a certain someone."

The brunet's expression hardens, one that you hadn't really noticed until he spoke again. "Is it the foreign musician?" Thomas spat, causing the soft smile on your face to vanish. 

There was a fury in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand, and frankly, it put you off. On instinct, you gently drape the dress over a chair and inch closer to the dining table—closer to your coffee, and away from the bench and Thomas. "You mean…” you idly drawled, “Yoon… gi?"

"So that's the bastard's name," Thomas sneers again, “Yoongi?”

A silent huff escapes your lips, one that you hoped he didn’t notice. "Is something wrong?" you asked him, a tight-lipped smile on your face as you take a sip of coffee to calm yourself.  

"He fucked my wife."

With the way Thomas said that matter-of-factly, you sputtered, nearly staining your shawl and nightgown with coffee. "I beg your pardon?" you gawked in disbelief at the hunter on your bench, his words ringing in your head.  

"He fucked her," he claims once more, "I'm sure of it."

You, however, weren’t so easily swayed. Yoongi and Teresa may have met in passing, but neither have mentioned the other at all, Yoongi having said nothing and Teresa having only brought him up for gossip. "And you're sure of this because?" you challenge, leaning against the table as you turn to face him with your arms crossing together. 

Thomas stands up from his seat as he begins laying out his ‘evidence’."She met him on his first day here, and he's been coming back a lot. Surely, something must've happened," he says, "He must've broken her heart and led her to kill herself."

A part of you wanted to laugh. This man is delirious. 

With a sigh, you unfurl your arms to reason with him. "I highly doubt it, Thomas," you say, "I would know because I'm the only one Yoongi only knows well in this town, and he stays here."

Your words, instead, seemed to be gasoline to fire—a catalyst worsening his rage. "How can you be sure what he's done when he's not here?" he scorns, nose flaring and fists clenching. 

That's true. You don’t really ask Yoongi what he does outside of your time together, the only look into his life being really just the adventures he chooses to share with you—but that still doesn't validate Thomas’ affair theory. 

You trust Yoongi. You trust Teresa. You trust them more than some bygone boy from your childhood years. You haven’t spoken to Thomas in years until this moment—clearly, Teresa is much closer to your good graces than he is. With the baseless slander he’s putting out of his mouth, he falls further and further down from the nothing he has. "You're pointing out needless accusations, Thomas," you grit through your teeth, "Yoongi and Teresa don't have an affair. They've hardly met more than once."

Thomas marches forth, pointing at you. "Stop siding with the foreigner, (Y/N)!" he bellows.

It really didn’t sit well with you right now, that this man, who had practically abandoned his wife and not even thought to fend her against other men, suddenly gets angry at the thought of a foreigner having an affair with his wife before her death. "Why are you so sure he's involved with any of this?!" you exclaim, frustration settling in very quickly.

“Because he's taken what should’ve been mine!” he screams, as if this was a matter of stolen objects. 

You were having enough of his tantrum. "For the last time, Thomas," you hissed, voice firm but shaking with rage. “Yoongi didn't have an affair with Teresa. He never did.”

Still, the hunter doesn’t relent. “I'm not talking about Teresa!”

That alone silences the both of you.

“What?”

The sunlight that filtered through the palace was abundant, what with its Grecian architecture having a lot of open spaces to let all the natural light in. This easily added more to the title of it being a golden palace. Yoongi is the god of the sun, after all. It made the most sense. 

But that didn’t mean he liked it—not all of the time, at least.

He didn’t want to be reminded of what he is and what his duties are supposed to be—especially, not now. The sun god was draped across a large bed, idly hovering between asleep and awake, and staring up at the ceiling. His curtains were drawn to a close, with only the wind lightly blowing at the curtains to let more light in the room.

His head pounded, having woken up from the consequences of his escapades with Dionysus the night before. The fact that he’s a god suffering from a hangover at the moment is telling of just how much he drank. It’s not easy to get a god drunk after all, but of course, this is something the wine god is good at.

In hindsight, he should’ve never gone with his old friend at all. He may have gotten what he had wanted, but it was only a temporary fix. Now, not only did he have a massive headache, but his original problem was back. 

(Y/N)—or rather, his mind constantly bringing her up. 

The drinking had been in the name of forgetting her, really—something that he hadn’t really told Hoseok when he had agreed to go out for a drink yesterday. Otherwise, Yoongi knew he would’ve been taken to sit down and talked into a sad and sorry drinking session instead of a fun one that would’ve distracted him, just as he had preferred.   

It's not that she had done anything wrong—she’s a good soul, after all—but the constant mulling over his feelings was a lot more difficult than he had anticipated. 

As of now, he is definitely more certain than ever that he really does love her—love her more than he had ever with Hyacinthus. It was a shock to admit it to himself out loud, but it was now the truth. The way he felt around her was different than what he had felt with everyone else. There were no butterflies that came to warn him, there was only peace and then a sudden chaos—one that swept him off his feet, and frankly, he had no plans to get up. It was futile, after all, to fight something so great and powerful.  

But it is this difference in this love that also concerns him. If he had loved Hyacinthus so greatly before that his death had broken Yoongi for centuries on end and have this love surpass it, then how could he ever learn to live without her when she dies?  

Mortals live so shortly—something that Yoongi himself has come to see in millennia and also something he has come to accept somewhat. Even as a friend then, Yoongi knew he would one day lose her to death, and it already saddened him enough—what more now when he has come to love her? 

Everything reminded him of her—the sunlight that often gave her that golden glow, the mornings when they would have coffee together, and even music, his literal symbol, has come to betray him in his endeavour. He now cannot pick up an instrument without having an urge to go down to Earth and play songs for her.

It doesn't help either that the excuse he had given her when he left was that he was travelling. Thinking of her waiting down there for him, made his heart clench.  

“Are you done moping around?”

A shock of his life came to Yoongi at the sudden voice of an outsider. He got up from his bed in haste, a sharp hiss leaving his lips after the motion made his head ache worse. It took a moment for him to collect himself, but when he did, he turned his eyes towards the direction of the voice with an immediate glare. 

By the hallway, was a familiar woman. Small and lean, like himself, and skin so milky white that one wouldn't at all think she was a huntress so used to being outside. Her eyes and hair were dark, but shone with a little bit of a blue hue when the light graces them every now and then. 

It was his sister. 

“Artemis?” he asked, incredulous. “What brings you here?”

The moon goddess rolled her eyes, walking further into the room with the ends of her dark blue dress fluttering around her. She stops a few feet away from his bed, crossing her arms. “To talk some sense into your foolish self,” she sneers, prying the curtains ahead open with her powers. “Get up.”

A yelp leaves Yoongi's lips, taken aback with eyes nearly burning at the sudden flooding of light into his room. “I beg your pardon?” he exclaims, returning to looking at his sister with a fierce glare.

Artemis ignores this and walks around the room, looking at the clutter he has made in the weeks since he's been here. The look of disgust and disdain is obvious on her face. “You and I both know I am not one for love, brother,” she sighs, saying it nonchalantly, “I found no sense in your romantic escapades. I thought you a fool.”

This was the most obvious difference between them. Where Yoongi had countless of lovers,  his sister had none. 

“However,” she then firmly interjects, “what I find more detestable are people who lie and run away from their problems.”

The sun god stared at her in confusion, but then in fear upon realizing that Artemis may have discovered his little secret on Earth. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered, but it would’ve been futile even if he hadn’t stammered. Like him, his sister had a keen eye for detecting emotions. 

This was now evident with the way Artemis' eyes narrowed at him. “You met a woman several months ago,” she says, “(Y/N) was it? You kept returning to that quaint little cottage of hers so much that this palace of yours could burn and you wouldn’t care for it.”

His head went blank. “You know about (Y/N),” he says, words leaving his lips in an almost inaudible manner.  

The moon goddess’ eyes rolled back a century. “You weren’t exactly being the most careful in the end, brother,” she tells him, matter-of-factly. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Don’t hurt her, Yoonji,” was his immediate thought to say. There was an edge in his voice—one that shocked both his sister and himself. He even used her mortal name.

The shock, however, was replaced with anger. “You dare assume I would do such a thing?” she spat, clearly offended. She may be a bit overprotective when it comes to the matters of her brother's heart but she was a protector of women and children. She wouldn't hurt the mortal so baselessly. 

“I don’t have to hurt her, Yoongi.” Yoonji then settled him with a sarcastic smile, “you alone can do enough damage.”

It was Yoongi's turn to be offended. “What are you talking about?” 

Yoonji points an accusatory finger at her younger brother. “You lied to her and ran away,” she said.

His heart skipped a beat in a bad way, more guilt settling in now that his sister has pointed it out. “I didn’t run away,” he sighs, not denying the lying part, “I’m thinking my feelings and decisions through.”

“Are you?” Yoonji drawled, challenging him, “Or are you simply stalling?”

The sun god sighs yet again. “I—AH!”

All of a sudden a bright light flashes and invades his entire vision. 

The expanse of a familiar forest appears before his eyes, the whole thing in a hazy glow. There was silence for a moment but a figure suddenly whirs past, sending the birds flying amok. 

The perspective suddenly changes into whatever or whoever it was that just went by. They kept running and running through bushes and branches that hit and hurt against the skin. He can't hear anything but he could feel the fear running through their veins. 

What are they running away from? 

What happened?

Before he could get an answer, the prospective changes once again. This time, a man loomed over the figure, blood running down and obscuring his face. Hands reached out and clawed at the man, trying to fight back.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it ends, Yoongi now returning back to the bright walls of his palace. The sun god crashes onto the floor, his breath labored as if he had done the running himself. 

Yoonji was left aback by her twin’s sudden collapse. “Brother?” she asks, running over to aid him, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

A vision. It was a vision.

Yoongi hadn’t had one himself in years. They would usually be something that would directly impact his life and future, and upon realizing that, the sun god could only think of one person. 

Exerting a sudden strength, Yoongi forces himself out of his sister's grasp, collecting his bow and arrow from the wall atop his bed and marching out onto the balcony. He calls forth his chariot, all the more confusing Yoonji. 

The moon goddess chases after her twin. “Yoongi!” she calls out to him, managing to grab him by the arm. “What’s going on? Tell me!”

Before her, Yoongi has never been more panicked—more desperate. “(Y/N),” he tells her, “she’s in danger.”

"What?"

The silence that clung in the air was astoundingly suffocating. It seemed as if even the chickens outside went silent, and the only thing you can hear was Thomas's words echoing in your head. 

Before you, the hunter sputters, clearly in panic. "I…"  

The anger that had been simmering within you started to boil as his words now sink in. “What do you mean you’re not talking about Teresa?”you drawled before your voice bellowed in rage. “She’s your wife!”

Thomas now was even more reckless, his defensive side making it all messier. “She’s nothing but a whore!” he screamed back.

His words were now a catalyst to your rage. “You neglected her in the first place!” you hissed, “She loved you, but all you did was cast her aside! Your actions were what led her to be the way she was!”

Face now red from all of the yelling, Thomas took a moment to breathe. “If she did love me then she would’ve stayed at home like a good wife,” he gritted his teeth, “Instead, she went around town to do things to embarrass me! To retaliate against me!”

While you also had worried about the petty way Teresa coped with her husband's awful shortcomings,  you certainly didn't like the way Thomas acted as if he didn't do anything wrong. “Yes, because of you,” you pointed out to him, emphasizing his critical role in the problem. Angry tears roll down your eyes. “You say that as if you had no fault in the matter—as if you’ve been so faithful!” you exclaim, almost wanting to laugh at his ridiculous mindset. “Who’s the one you’re referring to if not Teresa then, huh?”

“You.”

Another silence rips through the air, a gasp leaving your lips as you gawk in disbelief at the audacity of the man before you. “What?” You uttered breathless, “What do you mean ‘me’?”

Thomas takes a step forward, trying to plead his case. “The woman I love is you, (Y/N),” he tells you, “You.” 

Disgust seizes your face as you lean further away from the hunter. “Since when?” You ask, a scoff leaving your lips at his declaration of love. “We barely know each other.”

There was a flash of hurt in his green eyes—one that you couldn't care to think about when all you could think of was the utter bafflement of what had just transpired. “I realized it a few years ago,” he confessed, head lowering. 

It was amazing just how much this man has managed to surprise you in barely an hour of coming to you. “A few years ago?” you gasped, “You married her a few years ago!”

Thomas ran his hands through his light brown locks in frustration. “It was after I’ve already gotten married to her,” he tells you this as if he were simply trying to reason with you like you were the one being irrational. “She’s no longer here, we can—”

“What?!” You look at them in horror, scandalized by what had just tried to suggest. “Have you gone mad?!”

This man really thought that after the death of his wife and a confession out of nowhere, you would accept his hand in marriage—after you've also mentioned having someone else in your heart. What a ridiculous thought. “I have no feelings for you whatsoever!” You tell him this, giving him the brutal truth that sends him in another fit of rage.

The hunter marched towards you, hands gripping either side of your arms tightly. You trash around in his hold. “Does that bastard of a foreigner really hold your heart then? That good-for-nothing musician that keeps coming back to a place he doesn’t belong?” he questioned, face getting redder and redder. 

“Let me go, Thomas!” you scream, managing to slip away enough and hold yourself against a nearby wall. You back away more as he starts to loom over you again. 

“What do I have to do to make you forget him?” Thomas manically asks, throwing aside a chair that got in his way. “Do I have to kill him too?!”

Your eyes widened in horror. “Too?” you gasped, as the dots connect in your head immediately—Teresa’s funeral happening so quickly, his empty expression as the priest carried over the ceremony and his sudden visit here. 

“Did you… Did you kill Teresa?”

That stopped Thomas in his tracks, making him realize what he had just said. The absence of remorse in his eyes terrified you more. “She had it coming,” he growled.

Shivers ran down your spine at the memory of Teresa’s death. It wasn't an accident, or a suicide—it was murder.  

Thomas arrives home after selling a few of what he had gotten from a previous hunt, only to see no supper waiting at table. Teresa usually does this, as part of her ploy to aggravate him, but she would usually prepare supper for herself and so, Thomas would have something to take and eat. “What are you doing?” he growled, as he takes his boots off by the door, “Where’s supper?”

His wife nonchalantly shrugs. “I’m making a dress,” she simply tells him, showing him blue fabric and her hands. He had seen her work on that dress before, so it wasn't really that much of a surprise. 

He pulls a chair to take a seat across hers. “Is your customer more important than your husband?” he lowly asks, glaring at her.

Teresa, as per usual, could not give a single damn about what he thought. “Considering I earn money from it, then yes, Thomas,” She tells him, matter-of-factly, So focusing her attention on the handiwork in her hands. “Besides, it’s not a commission. It’s a gift.” 

Thomas sighs. If it were allowed, he would’ve long left this bitch.“What on Earth are you making a dress for?” he grits through his teeth.

“A wedding.”

That caught him off guard. There were no announcements posted on the church's door today. “Whose?” he asked, thinking of the hunt that would be needed to prepare for the feast after. If the couple were a little well of, then he coul— 

“(Y/N)’s” Teresa cut off his thoughts, a smile on her lips that wasn’t clearly just meant to be happy for the couple, but for herself as well. “Rumor has it she’ll be marrying the foreigner musician soon and I want to give them my best regards before they leave this godforsaken town.”

Thomas was obviously irked. He had heard of those rumors in passing, but he never really put much thought into it.“Why waste effort on rumors, Teresa?” he grunts, “Stop lollygagging now and fix us up some dinner.”

Teresa rolled her eyes and set the dress down to check on the pantry for food, knowing well that Thomas was at his limit and would throw a massive fit if he didn't get what he wanted sooner. It would be difficult to hide another bruise. 

Still, a part of her was satisfied to hear the obvious irritation in his voice and that part of her tempted her to poke at him more. “It’s not just a rumor,” she excitedly tells him in a gossiping manner.“I talked to (Y/N) myself, and they seem to be very much in love.”

Thomas clenched fist. “And why would she settle for a foreigner?”

In hindsight, this was a bad idea, but Teresa hasn't seen him react this much before. She becomes careless in her endeavors, the satisfaction of angering him—of hurting his pride—being such a delicious fruit to grasp. “He’s handsome, kind, caring, and seems to be well off too,” she said, listing some of the things she had heard from (Y/N), as she took out the pot of porridge she had made this morning. “Why wouldn’t she marry someone like that?”

“He’s a farce,” The hunter sneered. “She shouldn’t marry him.”

She sets down a bowl for the both of them with a little bit of force. “Why are you so against it, dear?” she fakely asks, lips twitching. “Is it because you know he’s better than all you could ever be?”

Thomas stands up to his full height, easily towering over Teresa. “What did you say to me?”

All sense of fear abandoning her, Teresa was beset by her fury. “You’re not fooling me, Thomas,” she spat,“I know why you’re so cross about anything that has to do with (Y/N).”

She walks towards him, a slightly crazed smile on her face that tells him she really does know the truth he’s been trying to hide—the grave sin he had committed. Lust. “The way you look at her, the way you perk up at the mention of her, the way you say her name in your sleep,” she growled. “I know it all, you bastard.”

“That’s enough, Teresa,” Thomas warns. 

Teresa only laughs at the evidence of guilt on his face. For someone scorned to be a whore and a vixen, the town will surely be scandalized to hear that the one who sinned first was the husband after all. “If I hadn’t known just how much of a sweetheart (Y/N) is, if I had been such a fool to blame her for your infidelity,” she hissed, “I would’ve hated her—cursed her even.”

“Enough!”

Teresa doesn’t stop, carried away by the heartache she had been keeping for years. “But you and I know, you will never be with her,” she tells him, cackling—only to be cut short by a slap.

Thomas’ hand stings from the impact. “Shut up, you wench,” he grits through his teeth.

Furious tears ran down Teresa’s cheeks. She doesn’t wipe them away. Instead, she turns back to him, glaring into the windows of his soul. “You don’t deserve her. She deserves better,” she declares, a grin spreading across her lips at the memory of her discussion with the young dressmaker. "And she has just that—the musician," she tells Thomas, “That alone is a satisfying vengeance for all you’ve done to me.”

It was then and there that Thomas’ rage truly exploded. It was quick, how he marched towards her and wrapped his hands around her neck. “Shut up!” he bellowed.

Teresa clawed at his wrists and kicked about. “Rot in hell!”

“Forget about her—about him,” Thomas coaxes you, as if the fact he had murdered his wife in cold blood was something so easy to forget. “Come with me.”

You nearly topple over the bench in your attempt to get away from him.  “You’ve gone mad, Thomas,” you tell him, shaking your head. "You need help."

The hunter growls at your words, stepping forwards, trying to catch you, but you warily dodge his hold. In avoiding him, you made it somehow to the dining table. "Don't come any closer, Thomas," you warn, keeping in mind what lay there behind you.  

Before you, the man breathes heavily. “I’m perfectly sane!” he insists, tearing at his hair in frustration. “I did what I had to do! Listen to me!”

Fully convinced he's about to break, you "Don't lie to yourself," you plead, now exhausted with this whole charade. "What you did was wrong and you know it."

It was so sudden that you barely saw it coming. Thomas lunges at you with a tight grip on the back of your head as the other hand painfully squishes your cheeks to have you look up at him. You whimper, trying to pry at his hands and free yourself from his hold. 

"I said listen to me," he growled, shaking you still, "now, shut up."

Thomas stared you down. "You will never see that musician again. You're com—AH! FUCK!"

He staggers back after a slightly hot splash of coffee hits his face—you being the culprit after reaching for the mug behind you. With his vision and guard down for a moment, you took no time smashing the mug in your hand onto his head. Yoongi's mug was now shattered, but it had effectively given Thomas a lot of damage—an awful gash now on the side of his head. 

Not all triumphs last long, after all. 

Thomas howls in pain as the wound trickles blood down the side of his face. "You bitch!" He then glowered, charging towards you like a bull. You dodge in time, sending him crashing into the table instead. 

His crash was followed by a pained grunt, then shatter of something hitting the floor. Much to your horror a reddish glow begins to spread beneath the trashed dining table. 

The oil lamp.

You step forward in an attempt to quell the fire, but Thomas groans, panicking you even more. The heavy clench of your heart at the thought of your cottage burning was outweighed by your crazed suitor catching you. You wrap your shawl around you tighter, bolting towards the door. 

You shock your chickens in your sudden exit of the house, sending them running amok too. In your haste, you don't bother to lock the small gate behind you and don't bother to look behind you either. 

You didn't have enough power in you to fully process the terror of the events that had transpired. All that suffering weaving all sorts of people together in an entangled mess. 

In another life, maybe Teresa and Thomas would have reconciled and worked through the problem. Maybe they would have had children—children that would have been your godchild even. Maybe she wouldn't have lived so miserably and died in such a tragic way. Maybe they would've been happy.

But not in this life. 

In this life, Thomas was cruel, discontented, and insane. If he is still any of these in his next life, then it is a guaranteed recipe for disaster. Would there be any hope for him? 

You didn’t know—or care, at the moment. All you could think of is run. 

Run as fast as you can.

In all honesty, you know nothing of where your feet were taking you, but you were hoping it was somewhere in the direction of the town. Your mind wandered into the fate that loomed over you. Will you manage to leave this alive and ever tell Yoongi how you felt? Will you die at the hands of Thomas and later be found at some place else, the same way Teresa was found in the downstream river? 

You don't know what fate will befall you, but you would at least like to try fighting your way to whatever end awaits you. Through bushes and branches that hit and hurt against the skin, you just kept on running with fear only fuelling you to go further. Your heart was beating so fast against your rib cages, your lungs aching for air, but you couldn’t stop.

—until the ground itself made you stop.

Feet caught by some stray log sticking out, you plummet down to the ground with an outcry. Your fall gives you scratches and bruises along the arm and leg of the side you fell on, tearing the ends of your nightgown and a sleeve. You stay right where you landed, tears stinging your eyes as you take a few seconds to redeem yourself. It hurts to breathe, to move, to even think.

You close your eyes allowing yourself a little bit of a break from all of this, muttering a prayer under your breath as you did. It'll be fine, you tell yourself this even with no assurance at all, trying to manifest that good grace of fate towards you. 

You're fine. 

Everything is fine. 

Everything will be fine.

In the distance, you start to hear howls and dog barks, breaking you out of your little rest. You did your best to push yourself up, whimpering along the way when jolts of pain shot through your body. Heartbeat speeding up at the sight of bushes moving in the distance, you think that they might be wolves—or bloodhounds.

Did Thomas bring his bloodhounds with him? 

Oh, no. 

You try to move, try to take a step forward in another direction but your knees buckled and every inch you moved was painful. Still, you start to limp towards a certain direction and eventually find yourself arriving at a clearing—one that you don't recognize to be near the town at all. 

Tears stream down your eyes then and there. You were far from salvation, far from anyone who could help. You were doomed.

Looking behind you, you hear the hounds grow louder and louder. With the limp making it difficult for you to run, you grab a hold of a large branch you find amongst the ground. It was somewhat sturdy and sharp. You could use it for defense. 

Propping yourself against the nearest tree, you do your best to hide from whatever it was that was behind you. Should it choose to attack, you have something to attack with. You ready yourself to fight—ready yourself to die fighting—and wait for death to come so you can look at it straight in the eyes and bare your teeth.

Much to your horror, two bloodhounds had indeed come after you, drool running down their chin as they growl at your weakened state like some prey for a hunt. Their fangs glistened with ferocity—a far cry from the way your tears beckoned desperation. “Stay away!” you snarl back, your hand shaking but you swing the branch at them anyways.

“There's no use fighting now, (Y/N).” 

You froze at the voice that reached your ears. You turn your head and see Thomas at a distance, the side of his head tainted red but the bleeding seems to have stopped that at some point. Behind him, you see a faint line of smoke trailing up into the sky. Your cottage was up in flames by now, no doubt. 

You know not how he managed to catch up with you so quickly, but he was here now and you had to worry about him. Clutching your makeshift weapon tighter, you gather the last of your strength in preparation of what’s to come. “Stay away, Thomas,” you grit, “please.”  

The dogs bark, the near thunderous sound making you jump. You can’t run from either side with the hounds ready to snap at you at any time. Their master approaches you in the middle. You immediately swing the branch, successfully hitting him once or twice. Thomas staggers back from your attack with a pained grunt that soon turns into a growl as he grips at the branch and yanks it out of your hands. Your shawl falls to the ground at the harsh movement, and you can’t even go to pick it up.

It was now officially three against one.

Thomas seizes your neck—not enough to choke you, but enough to trap you between him and the tree. “You’re really testing me, woman,” he sneers, before he sadistically grins. “Come with me now, and I’ll forgive you, hm?” 

You stomp and kick at his legs, slamming your fist against his chest. His pride disgusts you. “I never loved you,” you spat, “I never will.” 

Thomas kissed his teeth at your words in irritation and disappointment, shaking his head. “Wrong answer,” he says, throwing you to the ground and easily hovering over your fallen figure with his hands now having a firmer hold around your neck. 

“You leave me no choice,” Thomas says, “Die.”

Your eyes widened at the sensation of him making his hold on you tighter and tighter, making you thrash beneath him more in an attempt to free yourself. Instead, you were hauled up and slammed back down, the impact resulting in an outcry as it knocks the air out of you even more. 

“Come with me,” he asks again.

You answer with a weakened hit to his ribs. “Rot,” you wheeze, “in hell.” 

The words lit a flame in Thomas’ eyes, you notice, and he exerts more strength into strangling you than before. Clawing at him draws out redlines and scratches on his skin, but the hunter doesn’t yield. Tears flooded your eyes, but it doesn’t make a difference with your senses starting to black out. 

Was this it?

Your last sight being a madman choking you with a crazed look on his face, instead of being surrounded by a loved one? 

Your last hearing of the world being rabid dogs barking around you, instead of soft music?

Your last words being “rot in hell”, instead of something witty or wise?    

Your last breath being released in a life that ended so untimely and unknown, instead of a long life of adventures?

There were a lot of things you still didn’t do—things you still haven’t said. In your last moments, you choose to think of Yoongi. If he returns to the sight of a burned cottage and no sign of you, would he mourn? Would he miss you? 

He will in some way, you think. We had something after all.

Then, you suppose it’s a fortunate misfortune not being able to tell him the things your heart wanted to before you died. It would hurt and burden him more if you had. You haven’t seen Yoongi cry before, but you have no doubt it’ll break your heart. Yes, that would be bad. 

Suddenly, air floods into your lungs, the weight on your neck—on top of you—gone. You came to, seeing the vast expanse of the sky above you in beautiful white and blues. Alas, the sudden flurry of air that your lungs greedily take in sends you coughing, forcing your eyes close and your head pounding. Curling into yourself, you cradle your arms to your aching chest.  

“(Y/N)!”

Your name was called. It echoes in your head. A touch follows, but it wasn’t the rough and cruel one you had witnessed before. This one was soothing, warm, and familiar all together. The furrow between your brows eases as the hand brushes back your hair. Letting yourself sink into the darkness, you savor the last touch you were feeling. 

It feels nice. 

Stepping off the golden chariot, the moon goddess easily commands the two rabid dogs to stand down and flee from the clearing. “Is she alright, brother?” Yoonji asks, staring at the young mortal that has yet to get up still. 

Yoongi couldn’t answer his sister, head buzzing and heart pounding with worry at the lack of response he was getting. “(Y/N),” her name falls from his lips in a fragile grace, shaking from rage and fear for her. “Please wake up.”

She was pliant in his hold, no signs of coming back to her senses to react from his hold just yet. Little nicks of red littered her skin, her feet bearing most of the damage and dirt from running, and around her face and neck were bruises that will no doubt blossom into worse colors. 

Frustration bubbled within the sun god at his circumstances. When they had flown over the town, his heart immediately hammered at the sight of the cottage up in smoke. He thought it was fortunate not to see or hear anyone trapped inside, but it was hard enough as it is to try and search for her through the woods. 

Damn it all. 

Without any hesitation, the sun god channeled his powers towards her, skin glowing golden at this point. He presses a soft kiss onto her forehead as he waits for any sign of effect, still flowing the healing energy onto her. Please work. Please. 

Alas, minutes pass. It was still nothing. 

"Yoongi," the moon goddess softly scolds with a firm hold onto her twin's shoulder that was both a warning and a comfort. "That's enough. You'll drain yourself."

Thinking he may have been too late, the tears began to well up his eyes. The helplessness wracking his heart felt awfully familiar. Yoongi tightly shuts his eyes close as he buries his face into her hair, bringing her closer and cradling her onto his lap. “Please say something,” he whimpers, stubbornly trying to heal her still. “Please.”

I can’t lose you, too.

Yoongi's heart was shattering all over again. Another failed love—another tragedy—so it seems. It was most tragic too, that he hadn't come to see her smile, hear her voice, and feel her caress one more time. 

The moon goddess' own heart broke a little at the sound of her brother's sobs. The last time she had seen him like this was millennia ago. For him to love again after so long only to lose his love so early, she knew this must be a terrifying pain to behold. This was exactly why she didn't prefer to mingle around the concept of love. 

All that stalling and moping had indeed become regret. 

Yoongi mulled over what could have been. If he had been there, he would've easily gotten rid of the bastard. If he had been there, the cottage wouldn't have caught on fire. If he had been there, he would've gotten away with her in time. Worst of all;

I haven't even told her I love her. 

“Don’t cry…"

Yoongi froze at the weak but soft caress that brushed over the hand he had cupped the side of her head with. He pulls away in an instant, eyes glistening more at the sight of her (e/c) ones staring at him. Exhaustion was written all over her face, but the color was back on her now untainted skin. 

In relief, Yoongi almost collapses as he brings his forehead to rest against hers. The gesture caught the mortal off guard but the sun god could barely hold his emotions back for any longer. “I thought I lost you,” his words were a whimper delivered by a precious smile. 

He thought for a moment that, like Hyacinthus, she was destined to die then and there, and he wouldn't have been able to revive her. The Fates seem to be kind this time, for the love of his life was now in his arms, alive and well after his efforts to bring her back to the world of the living—to him.   

There were a lot of things in life you didn’t expect to happen but did. 

You didn’t expect for coffee to have such a big influence in your life. You didn’t expect to meet Yoongi, and fall for him. You didn’t expect to connect with Teresa but later mourn her death. You didn’t expect for Thomas to come in insane, chase you through the woods and kill you with his bare hands. 

What you certainly didn’t expect, however, was to feel a warmth enveloping you and bring you back from the abyss—to suddenly open your eyes again and feel arms around you. You hear sobs as you are held tighter. 

“Please say something. Please”

 It was then you realize just who the person cradling you was. Min Yoongi.

What you had thought about him crying turned out to be true. Your heart broke at the sound of Yoongi crying. “Don’t cry,” you find yourself saying, voice rough and weak. As you force your strength to your hand to touch his. 

The relief on Yoongi’s face was instant. “I thought I lost you,” he cried, resting his forehead against yours. It shocks you, but you savor the sensation, heart swelling to see someone worry so much over you.

It was then you remember the darkness you fell into, and the light that followed it. 

You were dead. How are you here now?  

Sitting up properly, you stare at your feet and arm, confused to see not a single bruise or cut in sight. In fact, you can stretch your limbs all you want and not feel any pain like earlier. “What happened?” you ask, “H-how am I...”

Yoongi froze before you, raising your suspicions.

There had always been something ethereal about Yoongi, you had always just simply associated it with his beauty and presence. The sunlight always seems to gravitate towards him, he always feels warm, and he brings with him some sort of luck.

But to stop you on your way to the afterlife is a far cry from just those little things. “Yoongi...” you began, words dripping with hesitance.  “What are you?”

The memory of that day flashes in your mind, Yoongi’s eyes glowing in the rain for a brief moment as you had asked him if he was alright. It felt peculiar then to feel a light flow of warmth wash over you,  

That day when you had gotten sick, was it his work too? That warmth you felt in that moment of darkness, you felt it while he played with your hair. In an instance you were caught in a trance, floating in water peacefully with all of your headache easing.   

“Have you not told her still, brother?”

A woman you don’t know suddenly makes her presence known to the both of you. She has the same ethereal aura as Yoongi, dark tresses glinting blue as it frames her delicate face. In her hands were a quiver and bow, while another pair was strapped to her back. 

She looks like Yoongi—which partly explains why she had called him brother. What it doesn’t explain, however, was the fact that Yoongi never told you of his sister. You never even knew he had one!

“... Who?”

The woman’s attention turned to you, hearing the faint question that unconsciously left your lips. “I am Artemis,” she tells you, a ghost of a smile resting on her face, “the goddess of the moon and hunt—among other things. You may call me Yoonji.”

You could hardly believe the words that reached your ears. The tales your grandfather would often tell you as a child mentioned old gods and goddesses in passing. If you recall, the moon goddess had a twin brother. That would mean Yoongi is...

“No,” you shake your head, a forced chuckle trying to mask your disbelief, “that can’t be… that would make....”

It was then you were reminded of what she had said before. 

Have you not told her still, brother?

You look at Yoongi expectantly. Is that what he hasn’t told you?

Before you, the musician you’ve known to love avoids your gaze. The longer silence prevails, the more your heart beats erratically. If he is who his sister implied he is, then he lied to you all this time. “Tell me the truth,” you plead with him, “Please.”

Yoongi looks pained at the look of confusion and hurt in your eyes. “I...” he began, struggling for words. In his hesitation, the answer became more obvious. “It’s true,” he sighs eventually, confirming your thoughts aloud. “I’m Apollo,” he confesses, “Yoongi is the name I use as a mortal.”

The world seems to still for you. 

Yoongi is a god. 

All this time you were befriending a god—you fell for a god. You felt betrayed, honored, and confused at the same time, the mess of emotions making tears well up your eyes. A part of you could understand why Yoongi may have chosen to hide it from you. He was a god of a bygone era, an eternal who may have found himself a solace in the simplicity your time together has given him, but a part of you also felt hurt by what he did. 

Could you still love a man you only know such a small part of—a god whose life is so grand and long compared to yours? Would your love even mean anything to him when you could so easily die?

"Was everything a lie too?" you find yourself asking aloud, deep in your heart hoping that wasn’t the case.   

Much to your heart’s delight, Yoongi panics, insistently shaking his head. “No, no, it would never be a lie,” he tells you, his hands almost reaching to intertwine with yours, but he seems to have stopped himself at the last second. “Every moment I spent with you was more genuine than anything else I've felt in centuries, (Y/N)," he confesses, “I...” 

Your eyes soften as you watch Yoongi struggle with his words yet again, this time doubting if he should continue with what he has to say. "You...?" You prompt, encouraging him further by gently squeezing on one of his hands in assurance. You want to hear everything he has to say for himself. 

Suddenly emboldened, the sun god raises his gaze to yours. “I love you,” he says in barely a whisper, holding his breath in anticipation of your reaction. "It's what I've been mulling over for the past weeks. I love you," he declares, "I love you and I want us to be together as lovers should."

His words sent you further into a flurry of emotions. 

He loves you. He loves you the way you love him. 

Wanting to hear those words is different from actually hearing them come to fruition. "I love you, too," you find yourself smiling, tears flowing down your cheeks from the emotions overwhelming you. It felt surreal—a dream come true—but dreams were different from reality. 

It seems that Yoongi notices the smile slipping from your face. His heart beating wildly against his rib cages. “But...?” he prompts, anticipating your response. 

You look down at your hands. “But…” you say, not sure of how you should tell him of your worry about the two of you being so different. “You're a god, Yoongi,” you tell him, a bitter smile on your face as you think of the future the two of you could have. You then catch yourself at the last minute. “Should I even call you by that name anymore?"

This was different from what you had imagined when it came to loving him. The most conflict you had expected to come along when it came to loving a man would be status, but to love a god would surely escalate the complications.  

Yoongi’s sudden caress on your face almost made you flinch when it reminded you of what happened before, but his touch was as gentle as it could be, gently urging you to raise your head and face him. “Be it Yoongi or Apollo,  I don't care,” he tells you, brushing back a stray strand of hair behind your ears. “So long as you call me yours.”

Your heart swells at his promise, but it doesn’t ease your ache at all. "You're a god," you reminded him again, “I'm a mortal. We can't love one another the way mortals do—the way I hoped we could."

We can’t grow old together.

The both of you understood what you meant, but Yoongi persisted. "If we can't love each other the way you had hoped, then we can, at the very least, love in a different way,” he says, wanting the two of you to have at least tried to make things work. “I had a vision of what happened, that’s how we got here, and even then, I was too late,” he tells you, tears blurring his eyes. “I realized then and there that even if you won’t choose to be with me for eternity, I want to still be with you—be there for you—for the rest of your life. I want to love you, to spoil you, to show you the world you’ve been wanting to see. I want to save myself from that regret of not being able to have loved you just because I was scared to lose you to death.”

Yoongi sheds the cloak on his shoulders, wrapping it over your figure. "It’s a blessing alone that I’ve managed to bring you back," he tells you, bringing a hand of yours to his lips. “It would be a great honor for me, if you would allow me the pleasure of loving you, (Y/N),” he implores with a voice so soft, “Be with me.”

Your breath hitches at the words he just proposed, your heart wildly protesting against your brain. You think of the future you could have with Yoongi, if you would choose to stay. You would die eventually, yes, but Yoongi had a point. If you let your fear drive you away from choosing the love you could have with the man you love, then would you be certain you wouldn’t sooner wish you had done otherwise? 

His argument had reason in it. Regret was a powerful thing that could haunt him for years—much more than it could ever do with you. Take the leap, your heart says. Take the leap and just love him. 

The distance between you both was so intimately close that you would think Yoongi would hear your quickly beating heart. Soon enough, you find yourself nodding as you shyly glance into his eyes, looking at the way they lit up at the sight of your silent answer.    

Yoongi smiles a little, standing to his feet and offering you a hand. “Really?” he asks, eyes so hopeful that it makes you smile. You take his hand, a small grunt leaving your lips as you stand. 

Another nod from you makes him smile more. “You’re right to say we should at least try,” you say, gently squeezing his hand back. 

Yoongi’s cheeks were hurting from the gummy grin encapsulating his face. Bringing his hands to your face, he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead. “Yes,” he hums against your skin, “let’s try.” 

Your eyes flutter close, savoring the feeling of his lips—until you realize something. 

His sister.   

With a soft gasp, you pull away, turning to the moon goddess all flustered and embarrassed. The remnants of a disgusted scowl were on her face, but she assures you a dismissive shrug. (Her brother has had lovers before. She’s walked into worse things.) 

Yoonji simply moves on, nodding her head towards something. “What do we do with this filth then?” she asks, gritting the words through her teeth. You didn’t need to ask who she meant by that, but you did, however, turn to look at what she’s glaring at.

There, just a few feet away, was Thomas pinned to a tree by two arrows—one gold, one silver—piercing him by the shoulders. His green eyes were blown wide open in shock, but he doesn’t move at all. 

"Tell me what happened," you hear Yoongi growl beside you, seething with rage. "Tell me what the bastard did."

You tear your eyes away from the bastard on the tree, feeling your chest tighten at the memories that Yoongi unknowingly uncovers, A hand gently lingers closer onto yours, knitting fingers with yours. You look into Yoongi’s worried eyes with a sad smile. "He murdered his wife because of me," you bitterly say, unsure of how to sum it all up. "Teresa, she…"

The mention of that name rings a bell in Yoongi’s head. "Teresa? The town wh—" he stops himself at the upset glance you threw his way. "—flirt? The town flirt?"

You sigh, tugging at the cloak around your shoulders. "She encouraged me to pursue my feelings for you," you tell him, smiling a little at the memory of Teresa advising her. "It angered him because he fancied me, so he killed her. Then, he got violent when I refused him…"

You hear the moon goddess scoff. “What a bastard...” she cursed under her breath.

Stealing a glance at the tree, you look at the twins with a curious glance. "Is he… dead?" you ask them, gesturing to the hunter.

The goddess shakes her head. "He's paralyzed," she tells you.

"Paralyzed?"

Yoongi gestures to the bows and quivers his sister has with her. "Our arrows have the ability to numb whoever we shoot with them," he informs you. The goddess nods, handing the golden set of quiver and bow to her brother. "He's still alive and aware of his surroundings,” Yoonji tells you, “but he cannot move."

Seeing your hard stare at the hunter, the sun god could tell the emotions simmering inside you, "Do you want me to make him suffer?" he tells you, eyes burning with rage enough to be angry for the both of you.   

The rational part of you told you it wouldn’t be right—that you wouldn’t be any different from Thomas—but you remembered Teresa and what you’ve both been through because of him. "Yes," you find yourself saying, an edge to your words. "Make him suffer as much—if not more—than what he put Teresa and I through."

The sun god presses a soft kiss on your forehead in comfort and assurance, before approaching the tree. He glares at the man, yanking at the arrow and sending Thomas to the ground with a thud. Still unable to move, Yoongi easily turns the body over and stares down at Thomas. 

You watch as his eyes glow golden, goosebumps littering your skin. "You will live,” he tells Thomas, voice growling deeper, “but you will live the rest of your life in a slow, torturous, incurable pain and only she can grant you death.” 

An ire of fury rises in your heart further. At that moment, you think to tell Yoongi an additional punishment. “Have everyone know what he did to Teresa and I...” you grit through your teeth, clenching your fists. If it’s a slow torture that’ll await him when the effects of the arrow wears off, a murderer’s execution will await him. Then, he’ll have to live in shame and in hiding for the rest of his life when the world sees he cannot die.   

Yoongi nods curtly. “You heard her.” he darkly chuckles at the unresponsive hunter at his feet. “Everyone will know the truth of your sins,” the god declares, eyes glowing yet again. “Whatever you saw or heard here, none will ever believe the words that come out of your filthy mouth either.”

Satisfied, the god leaves the hunter on the ground before calling out to the skies. “Come!” he commands. It confuses you for a moment, but a distant rumbling came as a response to his call. 

Soon, a golden chariot comes into the clearing, drawn by four horses that ease at the presence of Yoongi. The moon goddess hops onto it as Yoongi turns to offer you an inviting hand. “Shall we?” he asks, gesturing to the chariot where Yoonji waits.

Your heartbeat quickens. “Where?”

“To Olympus,” he tells you with a smile. “Won’t you come with us?”

You look up at the sky. Olympus was the land of the gods, how could you ever live there?

As if having read your mind, Yoongi walks towards you. He secures the cloak around your shoulders and gently caresses your cheeks. You look up, seeing tender eyes stare back at you. “You are under no obligation to come with me to Olympus,” he tells you, “but I want you to know that you are more than welcome to stay there with me. You deserve more, and I can give you more.”

A smile blossoms on your lips at his words, leaning into his touch as you mull over your thoughts. You don’t think you’d be comfortable living from a cottage to a whole palace all of a sudden, but you know for a fact that you’d at least like to see one of your grandfather’s stories come to life. “I think it’d make a nice visit,” you tell him, but then think of the state of your cottage now. “I… have nowhere else to go either.”

Yoongi presses a kiss on your forehead. “Alright,” he grins. “Come along, love.”

The sun god leads you into the chariot by the hand, where you stand by his sister. As the horses took it to the skies, a yelp left your lips, nearly making Yoongi stop the chariot then and there. He persisted, however, not wanting the whole thing to crash to the ground when the horses haven’t stabilized their flight yet. Yoonji, instead, gives you a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, dear,” she tells you.

She was right—somewhat. It was terrifying still, but you simply focused your attention on your lover holding the reins—it was a better view to look at anyways.

The three of you exit the chariot, the moon goddess walks ahead—not wanting to intrude anymore with her brother’s lovey dovey self. “How could you come by so much to my cottage when you have a whole palace waiting for you?” you smack Yoongi by the arm as soon as you see the golden palace before you. 

The sun god only laughs at your puny attempt to scold him. “I don't give a damn about this place,”  he tells you, leaning closer with a teasing smile, “my home now lies with you and wherever you will be.”

You smile for he was yours now, too.

“So is mine,” you tell him, feeling bold enough to lean closer.

With the distance so little between the both of you, Yoongi’s grin slowly slips away. “May I…” he murmurs, stealing a glance on your lips before boring his eyes onto yours. “...kiss you?”

A chuckle leaves your lips, before you steal a quick one on his. “You’ve been pressing kisses on my forehead ever since I said I’d give us a chance, silly,” you tease with a grin, laughing more at the sight of him blinking in shock at what you just did. 

The sun god half-heartedly rolls his eyes, before snaking an arm around your waist. “Alright then,” he muses, chuckling himself. Yoongi wastes time no further, seizing your lips for a proper kiss. 

You do nothing but close your eyes and savour it. 

Silly indeed.

You know not how you could ever manage to recover from what you had witnessed, how you could simply manage to move on from that chapter in your life, but the first step is clearly turning the page to start anew. It won't certainly be easy. You will be greatly haunted by what you had known and saw, but with Yoongi by your side, you knew well that you would do better to save yourself from ruination. 

And so, you turn that page and leave that chapter of your life behind as best as you could. You leave behind that dreadful town, that dreadful man, and all other dreadful things. You leave with only the fondest of memories of your time there—your family, the cottage, the merchants who gave you coffee, coffee, meeting Yoongi, Teresa, and more. 

You leave, stretching out your wings. With your love—your Yoongi—you are off to pursue greater things. 

WHY APOLLO? 

Another different depiction from the Greek Myth AUs would be Min Yoongi as Apollo. I understand that Yoongi broods a lot and that most would associate him with Hades, but I thought, why not Apollo? 

I mean, Apollo is the God of Music, Arts and the Sun. From that, we can see the parallels already. We all know of Yoongi’s capabilities of creating wonderful music and that he can put really deep poetic meanings in his works. He, himself, is ART (aLSO THAT VLIVE OF HIM PAINTING???) I also envisioned him as an Apollo whose heart may have hardened over the years from all the heartbreak and rejection, and that gave me a reason as to why he’d be a grumpy lil meow meow.

This also just feeds off of the stereotype of Apollo's love life btw (bc I wanted that ANGST) JSHSHSH Apollo had A LOT of boyfriends and girlfriends and not all of them ended in tragedy (good for u bud!) 

ALSO, jimin is zeus, yoongi is apollo which make jimin his DADDY but we have no time to unpack the complicated pool that is the Greek Myth family WHAHSHHS 

WHAT INSPIRED YOU?

I followed no specific lore of Apollo, but I did mention Hyacinthus a lot bc he was the only one I’ve heard of who actually liked Apollo back lmao but in the end I kind of got inspired by that story of them anyways??? 

In the myth of Hyacinthus, there’s this god called Zephyr/Zephryus who liked the Spartan prince but he went “if i can't have you no one will” and ended up killing Hyacinthus out of jealousy of him choosing Apollo AAAA 

IT’S SO SAD TOO BC APOLLO LOVED HIM SO MUCH HE TRIED TO HEAL HYACINTHUS BUT HE CAN’T BRING BACK SOMEONE WHO WAS DESTINED TO DIE AAAAAAAAAAAAA 

I didn’t want to kill y/n though HASDHASDH and I wanted to separate Apollo!Yoongi’s love for his Hyacinthus and his current love so there could be parallels drawn between them. I also wanted to give Yoongi a break from the angsty heartbreak he has gone through in this fictional life AHHAHAHSDJAS

Last note; I was also kinda a bit salty with this in the beginning, bc reading Lore Olympus in WebToon made me sO PISSED at Apollo (then again, i think its safe to say that ALL gods in greek mythology have dirt on their golden glories though lmAOOO) jsbgaihsbghf but I knew I can’t do my bb yoongs wrong and dirty like that so let’s just separate him from the original (this isn’t exactly meant to be a direct representation in the first place either LOL)

Thanks so much for reading this LONG ASS bitch AHDSHASHDHAS hope y’all enjoyed! <3

[ushidoux]

Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match.  (~5.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex

A/N: Part of @cherrytenko​’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!

---

It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.

It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day - 

A date.

“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.

“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly. 

Sure, never any obligations.

As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.

You hate this. 

This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale -  not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.

In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.

Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.

There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.

There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself. 

You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.

The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.

You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.

The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.

“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall. 

He’s not here.

You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.

You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit. 

The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room. 

Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense? 

You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.

For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you. 

“My apologies, Ms. ___.”

You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry. 

You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.

“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”

He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle. 

Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.

Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.

“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.

You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”

“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool. 

Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.

“Please order anything you like.”

You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.

Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior. 

Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts. 

But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think. 

When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.

You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.

“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.

“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.

Maybe you’re the one staring.

“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down. 

You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.

Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.

But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.

“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.

His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.

You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?

You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.

“What do you do outside of work?”

His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.

“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”

A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.

Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.

“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”

You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.

“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”

It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.

Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?

He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”

You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.

---

“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”

You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you. 

Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?

The heat that fills your whole body now isn’t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips. 

When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.

So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.

---

You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.

“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.

You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.

---

“Miss ____?”

Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.

“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.

“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf. 

You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.

“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.

---

“Was the sex at least good?”

Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.

You begrudgingly say yes.

“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.

“He’s missing out, though.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.

---

Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.

Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.

You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.

A curt email from a crucial business partner read,

We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.

Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?

Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.

“What happened?”

“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”

This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.

Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call. 

“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click. 

Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.

The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.

How embarrassing.

You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.

It turns out he did.

“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”

His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.

“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”

There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”

“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”

He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”

You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.

“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”

Finally the lightbulb went on.

“Oh, that was you. Hm.”

If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.

“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”

“Excuse me?”

That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call. 

“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”

“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”

Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?

“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh. 

---

The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.

There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.

I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.

Respectfully, 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.

Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying. 

You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.

---

It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.

Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.

Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.

After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor. 

And snatching your dignity in the process.

It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well. 

“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.

“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”

She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.

You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.

“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”

He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new. 

You hate that he looks good.

“Apologizing and requesting your company.”

He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.

“Please leave.”

He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you. 

“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”

“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.

“I… got busy.”

“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.

“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”

You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Why would you think that?”

His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him. 

“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”

Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.

“So…?”

“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”

You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?

His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.

“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.

“I’m bad at starting conversations.”

You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.

“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”

You purse your lips.

“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.

You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”

He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.

“No. I just like you.”

Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.

You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.

Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.

“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”

---

A couple months later...

“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.

“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.

There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.

This isn’t a good look.

“I-I can’t…” you whine.

“You can,” he assures you.

He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.

Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.

“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.

He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either. 

When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him. 

Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.

“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.

He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.

[roccinan]

2022 Fic Review

(Tagged by @natures-marvel thanks for tagging!)

End of the Year Fic Review 2022

1. What is your AO3 account?

Rocinan

2. How many words did you write total in 2022?

131,168

3. How many fics did you publish in 2022? How many multichapters vs oneshots?

6 fics total (1 of which was an art piece)

1 oneshot and 3 multichaptered (2 still unfinished)

4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?

Longest : Birdcage at 45,596 words

Shortest : Café for Your Trouble with 0 words LOL, or  Over the Hills and Far Away at 1279 words

5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?

Most popular:  Grand Hotel, A Tale of Love and Intrigue

Least popular:  Over the Hills and Far Away

6. What fic didn’t perform as well as you thought it would?

Hmm. They all sort of performed how I expected, as in I was pleasantly surprised to get more than 10 kudos for anything XD Maybe chapter 2 of The Contract? Not sure if people like it less than ch. 1. But in terms of the fics themselves, Over the Hills and Far Away already received more hits than I ever imagined lol but I guess I thought it’d earn at least 10 kudos. 

7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?

Grand Hotel, hands down. 

8. What was your favorite fic you wrote from 2022?

This is a hard one, but probably Birdcage! Because I actually managed to finish it in 2022 asdfasdf Also it gave me the chance to write some extreme Andres whump, so there’s that!

9. What was your favourite fic that somebody else wrote in 2022?

I can’t settle for any one fic, so here’s some that I personally enjoyed the most and had the time to read in 2022! Most of them lean dark, so with the exception of “Upon paper wings” and “The way to a man’s heart,” do mind the warnings and tags!

Did I ever leave the lights on (could you ever find your way back home?) by @nharidy A crack concept (berlermo switch souls out of the blue) on the surface, but a story that’s so much more than that. Legit one of the most selfless, genuine depictions of Martin’s love (and that shred of nobility under all the asshole in his blood) I’ve ever read, and I still get emotional thinking about this story.

something borrowed, something -- by anonymous; I swear I’m not biased but I must say, I was insanely lucky to have such a talented writer take a post of a scenario I made and publish a full story based on it. Like WHEN will that ever happen again?? It’s like I threw a coin down a wishing well and it happened! This is a fantastically written (but Very dark!) character study, and even though there’s no upfront gore or violence, the story pulls no punches with the premise: injured, amnesiac Andres thinks Gandia is Martin and suffers all sorts of sexual, domestic, and psychological abuse as a result. 

Those Violent Delights by @aceraphaelsantiagos Ongoing but well worth the wait! It’s an ongoing berlermo thriller told out of chronological order and watching the puzzle unfold is like climbing deeper into the spider web. AU but amazing characterization, and with my favorite dynamic: Dom/Dom!

{ Upon paper wings. } by @moneyheist-fam Their first berlermo fic! And a truly wonderful one at that. One of the rare completed AUgust fics LOL. There’s a warm fairy tale like quality to this, and it’s just a very sweet and beautifully written tale about soulmates.

A Lamb for Our Love  by @the--sound--of--rain Ongoing, but definitely a story that stuck with me since the first time I read it! Another “Gandia abducts Andres and-” story, but the fic is about what happens after Andres comes back to Martin. A rocky, angsty piece with heartbreaking characterization and a look at what would happen if these two made the worst possible choices thinking that’s what’s best. The first chapter is definitely worth the read, and I’m sure the second will be equally good, if not better!

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach by @alfredo-kesmann Why yes, this is my gift haha, but alfredo-kesmann went above and beyond a very simple prompt and gave us a story that’s insanely funny and endearing all at the same time. Truly one of my favorite fics of 2022 and I rec it to everyone, especially everyone whoever thought “hmm what if Andres being a good cook is just headcanon and he really sucks at it?? would Martin lie and pretend he’s good?” Answer: yes Martin would

Vinum Stygis by @signorin-anarchia Another ongoing fic! But very underrated and promising. A period gothic romance with all the creepy and dark elements you’d want from the genre. It’s a creative spin on Crimson Peak that somehow manages to make the premise work for berlermo, and definitely deserves more attention. Wonderful atmosphere and toxic assholes all around~

Last but not least, The Fatal Drive by NaturesMarvel! Kal’s longest fic yet, and my favorite 2022 hit from her. It’s filled with lots of twists and turns (and a plot that’s blockbuster material for sure!), including a few that actually fooled me haha Also features badass Martin, a satisfying amount of hurt!Andres (thank you for your service Kal), and cameos from just about everyone. This is an AU where everything starts with Andres receiving a pen drive (saying anything else would be a spoiler!)