#to make my life simpler and start chipping away at getting the Thoughts out there???

[chuckwon]

[taps mic]

is there still an interest level in spnwin meta anywhere

just curious

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 31 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 3165 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

What was the point of resisting, anyway? I wanted nothing more than to embrace the tension that had been building up inside of me for months. Ever since he’d kissed me at Leanne's party, his lips had been nothing short of sweet. If Dave was like the moon, dark, deep, and captivating, James was like the sun; warm, calm, and comforting. I needed that sweetness. I needed that warmth.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, mxf sex, unprotected sex

✧ bring back to you a piece of my broken heart, i'm ready to surrender ✧

The next day was a total whirlwind for the boys, just like the one before. Getting ready for the night's gig kicked off early; they had to settle into the hotel, run through the setlist, do the soundcheck, help setting up the stage and handling all the tech stuff. Luckily, I got the easiest part; while the guys tackled all the heavy lifting, Leanne, Pat, and I decided to wander around the city, soaking in the sights of Milan. I'd been to Italy a few times with my parents, but exploring the tourist spots without them was a whole new experience, fun in its own way.

And, you know, I was kinda relieved not to be hanging with James during the day. Thinking back to the heartfelt words and secret kisses we'd shared the day before threw me for a loop of emotions I wasn't totally ready to ride. I had no regrets, but I felt a certain guilt creep in - guilt for letting myself fall for him while my heart was still on the mend from my last breakup, guilt for giving in to my attraction while he was still tangled up with someone else. So, my plan? I thought I'd let him figure things out with Pat first, and then we'd see how the chips fell. Things had to get simpler one way or another, right?

As the sun dipped low, the three of us bounced back to the hotel to switch up and hit the concert scene. When we rolled in, spotting the guys was like searching for a needle in a haystack - backstage was a total madhouse, gearing up for the show kick-off. The gig itself was killer, as per usual. Post-show, we all huddled up in the dressing room, laughs and drinks flowing like it was nothing. I kicked back, grinning a bit, soaking in the scene. Seeing my friends so pumped was a blast, and being on this tour, witnessing the band's growth, was seriously mind-blowing.

I shifted my eyes away when a hand grabbed mine, and there I was, face to face with James, his hair all wet from just stepping out of the shower, wearing a mischievous grin on his lips.

“C'mon,” He gently tugged at me, and I blinked, a bit confused, but went along with it.

“James,” I chuckled, trying to figure out what was going on, as he started pulling me through the backstage maze. “Where are we headed?”

“Just roll with it for a bit, okay?” he said, his voice giving away the smile on his face as he quickened his pace. I chuckled softly, not sure how to react, but I stuck with him, his firm grip holding onto my hand. We strolled a bit more until we hit a pair of doors, which I knew would lead us outside.

“Okay, what’s your plan?” I giggled, slowing down as we stepped outside, the cool night air making my skin tingle. He stopped, turning to face me with a grin, resting his hands on my shoulders and giving them a gentle caress.

“I don't know,” he chuckled, his cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling as he looked at me. “I just wanted to be with you. Just you.”

I gazed at him, feeling my face heat up as my heart raced. He slowly caressed my arms, his hands sliding down until they found mine, his fingers weaving through mine as he drew closer. I sighed, my eyes fixed on his lips, savoring the smile that kept showing up on them.

Oh man, I really wanted to kiss him.

I sighed, looking up and locking eyes with his blue gaze, sparkling playfully like he could read my mind. My whole body warmed, a thousand butterflies in my belly when I realized he wanted some alone time, just us, away from all the noise and prying eyes.

"I know a spot," I whispered.

We strolled for a few minutes until we hit a bustling commercial street, packed with street food stalls, small bars, cafes, and clubs that pumped out various types of music. I'd wandered through there earlier with Leanne and Pat, picturing how lively it would get at night. I was spot on; even though it was a bit late, the street was buzzing with tourists and locals soaking in the scene.

“Didn't know you knew your way around the city,” James mentioned as we casually wandered down the street, blending in with the crowd, the tempting smells from food joints and stalls making my stomach growl a bit.

“I don't,” I chuckled. “I've only been to Milan with my parents once. I took a stroll with the girls around the city today, too. Figured you might have wanted to check out a bit of it.”

“You didn’t get lost, not even once. I didn't think you had it in you,” he mentioned, and I burst out laughing.

“I guess I picked up navigating on my own after living solo in LA,” I said, a wistful smile tugging at my lips. My stomach rumbled softly again, diverting my attention from my thoughts for a moment. “Hey, wanna grab something to eat?”

We hit up a few stalls, snagging more food than I thought I could handle, but, unlike me, James had a killer appetite. I grinned watching how pumped he was to dive into all those new foods; we sampled arancini, panzerotti, and capped it off with gelato, all while chatting softly about anything and everything. James's presence made it easy to shove aside, even if just for a minute, the waves of sadness that had been my company for the past weeks. It felt good being with him; in those moments, it almost seemed like nothing in our friendship had changed.

After we were done eating, we figured a leisurely walk along the street would be the move, soaking up the glow of the streetlights dancing on the canals as boats filled with tourists coasted by. Eventually, we hit up one of the boarding points and spotted a short line forming for one of the last boat rides of the night.

“Hey, wanna hop on one of these?” James asked, clutching my hand, eyes gleaming with excitement. I chuckled.

“Sure, why not? Let's give it a shot.”

We hopped in line and snagged a spot on one of the boats, big enough for around 20 people. Despite its size, maybe due to the time, only a handful of folks hopped on for the tour. We snagged seats at the back, soaking in the city views cruising by at an easy pace. I let out a sigh, feeling my cheeks warm when I noticed the heat of James's hand in mine, our fingers intertwined. I glanced up, my heart doing a marathon as I locked eyes with his gaze full of pure adoration; if this was the way we looked at each other, it's no wonder everyone noticed how much he was into me, how much I was into him.

We strolled back to the hotel after our quick tour, talking and sharing soft laughs. James slung his arm around my waist, pulling me close, but I was cool with it. I was happy — happy and at peace. So happy that I pretty much forgot about Pat's existence until we rolled into the hotel lobby and bumped right into her. Her eyebrows shot up in shock and confusion when she saw us coming in together.

She must’ve been up waiting for us — waiting for him . We didn't get a chance to compose ourselves, to hide the way our eyes lit up when we looked at each other, the smiles full of pure adoration plastered on our faces, our fingers tangled in a way meant only for lovers. We could only freeze, too perplexed, too intoxicated by each other's presence to do anything. I could see her eyes flitting from me to James, slowly catching on to the implications of what she was witnessing, before she hightailed it out the hotel door without saying a word.

“Shit... Pat, wait!” James let go of my hand, taking two strides toward her, but she didn't halt. He glanced back at me, concern written all over his face, and said, “I'll just make sure she doesn't get hurt. I'll be back soon. I promise.”

“Okay, just go!” I blurted out, my stomach churning, not out of jealousy or envy, but pure regret. I shouldn't have tagged along with James, shouldn't have tangled myself up in his relationship. I should've held back, but in those few hours, I was so damn happy for the first time in months that I completely forgot about anything else. A wave of guilt crashed over me, discomfort creeping up in my throat and stomach. Good Lord, what a shitty person I was. No wonder Dave had fucking left me.

I headed up to my room, hopping into the shower for a hot bath to ease, at least a bit, the whirlwind of regret swirling around me. Once I was done, I swapped clothes and flopped onto the bed, craving some solace in the cozy blankets. Nestling in a bed after a night on a rocking bus made me realize how damn tired I was; I dozed off soon after, slipping into a dreamless, deep sleep that at least offered a brief escape from my thoughts.

I jolted awake with the sound of insistent knocks on the door. I practically hurled myself from the bed to the floor with a grunt, my eyes still weighed down by sleep. As I staggered up, I checked the clock on the bedside table – 3:15 in the morning. It took me three tries to slot the key into the lock, but I eventually cracked the door open, a yawn stubbornly trying to break free.

“Hi,” James greeted me. He looked more wiped out than I did, dark circles under his eyes shouting that he probably hadn't caught a wink of sleep. “Hey, what's wrong with you?” he asked as I propped myself against the doorframe, appearing on the verge of collapsing.

“I’m sleepy,” I grumbled. “You woke me up.”

“Shit, sorry. Can I come in?”

I nodded, stepping back to let him into the room and closing the door shortly after. I went to the bathroom, turning on the tap to wash my face and brush my teeth, which helped shake off some of my sleepiness. When I returned to the room, I popped open the minifridge and snagged some water before joining James, who had settled on the edge of my bed.

“Are you okay? You look tired,” I murmured, my voice still raspy from sleep.

He nodded, seeming a bit out of it, running a hand across his face with a sigh.

“I broke up with Pat,” he mumbled, furrowing his brow and glancing up at me. “Just got back from the airport; she wanted to go back home. Lars is gonna murder me when he figures I blew part of our fee on her ticket,” he tried to make it sound like a joke, but I could tell he wasn't very thrilled about it either.

“Are you sad?” I asked, and he shook his head with a bitter grin, eyes dodging mine.

“If I admit I'm relieved, will you think I'm a scumbag?” he asked. I stared at him for a moment, my face warming when his hand sought mine, holding it gently.

“Then we're both scumbags,” I replied in a hushed tone, and he swiftly raised his gaze to meet mine, confusion tinting his blue eyes. I furrowed my brow, feeling a discomforting burn in my eyes as tears started to well up. “It’s just… I just screw everything up, don't I? First, my relationship, and now yours…”

“Don't say that,” he whispered, bringing one of his hands to my cheek, caressing the soft skin slowly before pulling me closer, his lips meeting mine in a kiss. I sighed, a mix of anguish and desire swirling within me as he pressed his body against mine. “Please, don't say that.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a small gasp of surprise when he held me tightly, laying me on the bed, his body over mine. I sighed, my heart racing as he kissed me, his fingers entwined with mine while he pressed my hand into the mattress.

“James…” I murmured, letting out a small moan. “James, I can't... I can't do this. If we go through with it, there's no turning back…”

“You think there's still turning back for me?” he whispered, hoarse, his lips moving to my neck, leaving small bites that made my body shiver. “I want you too much. I can't go back to what it was before,” I sighed as his kisses slowly traveled up my neck until he nibbled my earlobe lightly, whispering in my ear, “And I don't want to.”

I sighed as I felt his lips travel from my ear to my cheek, and then to my mouth. What was the point of resisting, anyway? I wanted nothing more than to embrace the tension that had been building up inside of me for months. Ever since he’d kissed me at Leanne's party, his lips had been nothing short of sweet. If Dave was like the moon, dark, deep, and captivating, James was like the sun; warm, calm, and comforting.

I needed that sweetness.

I needed that warmth.

I buried my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as I kissed him back. He groaned, satisfied as I welcomed him, and let his tongue explore my mouth, his hands wandering under my shirt. I could barely think, just feel the weight of his body on top of mine. God, I wanted him so much. How long had that desire been growing inside me? I had wanted that, deep down, for longer than I would ever have allowed myself to think.

He broke the kiss, sitting back with his knees around my waist and taking off his shirt. I shivered, anticipation coursing through my veins, my whole body burning as we looked deeply into each other's eyes, both the same shade of blue. His blond hair fell over his shoulders as he placed his hands on the mattress, one on each side of my head. I traced my fingers over his chest slowly as he lay back on top of me, his lips crashing against mine as if he couldn't stand to be away from my kiss. He pulled down my pants, his hardness pressed against my thigh, a low moan escaping my lips.

No turning back, I thought. But I don't want there to be.

I unbuttoned his pants, quickly pulling them down. He helped me, pulling away from our kiss again as he removed them, and then his underwear; I blushed, a small sigh escaping my lips when I saw him naked for the first time, his slender body rising again over mine. He ran his thumb over my lip, slowly, and then moved his hand to my T-shirt. I lifted my torso so he could take it off. He caressed my collarbone as he looked into my eyes, my lips slightly parted as I felt my face heat up.

There was something strangely vulnerable about being naked in front of him; about letting him see me whole, about seeing and feeling his body for the first time. He looked at me, hesitant, as if asking for permission. I placed my hand on his shoulder, then brought it to his neck and pulled him closer. He kissed me again as he slid into me, slowly. I moaned into his mouth, feeling my whole body heat up.

He held onto my hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue moving against mine as he moved inside me, at first in an agonizingly slow pace, but then faster and faster until he reached a steady rhythm. His kiss, so firm, became erratic as low, hoarse moans escaped from his lips. I breathed quickly as I felt pleasure fill my entire body, embracing him tightly, his large frame pressed against mine.

I wanted to melt under his touch, to become a part of him forever. I loved him so much right then that I could have died right there — and I would have died happily.

I moaned his name as I arched my back, pleasure and devotion filling my entire body. He pulled away from our kiss, panting as he gripped my waist hard enough to bruise my skin, pulling me closer so he could reach deeper inside me. It hurt a bit, but it was also so good that I couldn't even care. I felt the tension build in my womb, moaning loudly as he started moving even faster.

“James... I'm so, so close…” I half-moaned, half-sobbed, my legs trembling as I held onto his arms tightly, “James, oh shit, please, harder… ”

James closed his eyes, low moans escaping his lips as he lifted my legs, wrapping them around his hips, pushing into me forcefully. He buried his face in my neck as I dug my nails into his back, my whole body shaking as he moaned my name in my ear.

I couldn't hold back any longer; the knot in my belly unraveled in deep contractions that pulled him further inside me, devouring him completely. He shuddered, moaning loudly as he climaxed inside me, filling me up until there was nothing left, only our exhausted bodies, wrapped around each other as the waves of pleasure overcame us.

I let out a low sigh as he pulled out, lying on his back beside me, running a hand through his hair. I turned, lying on my side, watching his face as he looked back at me, his eyes out of focus as he tried to steady his breath.

“Can I crash here tonight?” he asked, breathlessly. The question caught me off guard, and I burst into a surprised laugh. I nodded, and he stretched with a grunt. “Oh, thank goodness. I'm so beat. C’mere.”

I chuckled softly as he pulled me closer, giving my cheek a light peck before pulling the covers over us. I sighed, realizing that I, too, was tired. I knew that soon I'd have to let myself process everything that had happened that night. That after feeling James's touch, after surrendering myself fully to him, the mourning for my relationship with Dave was about to get even more complicated.

Maybe I should've waited. Maybe I shouldn't have even hopped on this tour. But none of that mattered now, did it? I could figure out these feelings in the morning. Right now, all that mattered was the boy beside me, softly snoring as he held me close, the memory of his touch still vivid — and my heart, feeling more alive after being with him than it had in months.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9

[rising-volteccers]

*slides over a few coins* Do you have any Friede angst

-shoves the coins into my pocket- Yeah sure I gotcha. Have this that's totally not me self projecting based on HZ018.

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Professor Friede

--

“What, you're quitting? Why? You're one of the best here!”

“Hey man, I heard you were quitting. You think that's the right call?”

“While I don't really get why you're quitting, I wish you luck for your future endeavors Friede.”

Future endeavors? To be completely honest, Friede didn't have anything lined up. He gave easy answers and pleasant smiles to anyone that asked, slipping out lies as easy as breathing. Gave replies that appeased their hidden curiosity because one of the best researchers in the company quit such a good paying job? Surely it was for something bigger and grander.

All Friede knew was that had he stayed at his job any longer, he'd break.

He didn't know when it started to become wrong. Wasn't this what he wanted to become? Friede recalled a distant memory of his younger years when life felt a lot simpler. Heading to Professor Oak’s laboratory to get his first starter, being one of many children that day who discovered the wonders of Pokemon. Listening in on the Professor’s explanation sowed the seeds that'd later bloom into a burning want to become like his childhood hero.

Friede poured his all into that dream. Regardless of how he struggled with schoolwork, in making friends and getting good grades, he never gave up. Miss Lucca and her kind encouragement further pushed him to make it a reality. He wanted to be the student that proudly told his favorite teacher of his successes.

Friede worked hard for many years, pouring blood, sweat and tears into his education. From earning his bachelor's degree all the way to a PhD, he never gave up even during his lowest lows. It would be all worth it at the end, he told himself.

And he believed it initially. When he got hired to work at a relatively large company, Friede couldn't be happier. At last he could put his knowledge into practice!

(Where did it go wrong?)

He observed Pokemon, taking note of their behavior and analyzed it.

(When did it go wrong?)

Crunched the numbers inside a lab, hunched over his desk and typing away at the computer to store data.

(How did it go wrong?)

Repeating this process with each new project. Pulling all nighters to meet deadlines.

(Why did it go wrong?)

Finding himself becoming less motivated to do research work but forced himself because it was his job. It was what he spent many years achieving.

(What went wrong?)

This was what he wanted to do right? Friede wanted to become a professor so he could learn everything there was about Pokemon? Wasn't this job giving him that opportunity? To study Pokemon and analyze all that data within a lab with its sterilized walls and cold equipment and blank excel sheets and–

(Was… was he wrong? All this time was he…)

Friede had to quit. If he stayed any longer, forced himself to do work that chipped away at his genuine passion for research, he feared losing a fundamental piece of himself to… this. Whatever this was.

(This was burnout. This was discovering that he invested years of his life into something that might not be worth it).

They held a little farewell party for him, wishing him luck over a few rounds of drinks. Friede only drank enough to not be questioned. He didn't want to get drunk, despite how appealing it is to just forget about this for even a little while. Last thing he wanted for his lips to become loose, spilling things he kept hidden.

After that, Friede just… didn't do anything. His internal body clock still kicked him awake for his usual shift, often taking a few seconds to realise that he didn't have work to go to anymore. Instead of making the most out of his day, Friede simply laid back down, staring at the ceiling until he remembered to feed Charizard.

Friede didn't consider what he wanted to do beyond achieving his goal. He thought this was what he'd be doing for the rest of his life. What a foolish notion. Couldn't even last a year before he quit.

As much as he wanted to lie in bed all day, that too got old after a week or so. Friede opted to head out for his usual grocery shop with Charizard. His partner didn't feel like flying, so they simply walked to the market. Not like he could force a Fire-type whose flames were dulled. Like Pokemon like Trainer, huh?

At least during that trip, he came across Ludlow. An unexpected friend he made during his studying years. If he wanted to get away for awhile, away from all the books and expectations and looming deadlines, Friede could go to Ludlow. They'd go out to sea from Porto Marinada to fish all day, and he'd return with a clearer head, as if the sea had cleansed away the gunk weighing him down.

Friede didn't have to say anything. Ludlow took one look at him (with his disheveled hair, unkempt close and dead eyes) before inviting him out to a fishing trip.

A part of him didn't want to. He simply wanted to return back to his apartment and stare at the ceiling, fear of an unknown future paralyzing him. But this was Ludlow, a kind man who didn't have an obligation to spend time with him yet he chose to.

Friede took him up on that offer. Getting fresh air while the pair fished all day made him feel the most alive since he quit. Ludlow continued to invite him on fishing trips, trying his best to have him be more adventurous.

He often declined, giving non committal answers that Ludlow thankfully never pushed. Why should he put effort into something that'd likely not be worth it? Once was enough.

(Deep down, Friede knew those were simply excuses. He simply feared developing a passion that'd fizzle out and die when he realised it wasn't actually for him).

This went on for weeks until one day, Friede received a call from Miss Lucca. She wanted to meet up, and he respected her enough to clean up some before they met at the Treasure Eatery. It was somewhat bittersweet to see her again; she clearly had a future to look forward to, what with her having a child to raise.

Friede kept his answers vague to the somewhat probing questions. Miss Lucca always had the uncanny ability to see him through all the layers he put up. She had something to show him tomorrow, requiring him to wake up pretty early.

He accepted considering he had nothing better to do. What Friede ended up seeing was a Pikachu. He couldn't help but feel disappointed; he knew all that was documented about the species. Why did she want him to see this one in particular?

When Friede saw this small creature soar as high as the clouds, a spark lit up in his heart. For the first time in a long while, he felt excitement.

He missed this feeling, the surge of passion thought lost. Friede grasped onto it with all his might and was rewarded to a sight that showed him there were new horizons for him to explore. He just needed to take the first step again.

Friede did it once.

He could do it again.

[raziroo]

Cotton Candy

Pairing: Lotor x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Saying "Shit" twice

Word count: 2,076 (yay) (also, I edited this, I still need to update the word count)

Author’s Note: I'm crap at writing dialogues, and this is my first time writing for a gay couple. I'm so sorry if it seems forced or unnatural or shitty. Don't be afraid to call me out.

Story Moodboard!

It’s with a grunt of effort that I manage to lift the carton containing the cotton-candy-maker.

‘Here, dad,’ I say as my dad takes the box from my hands. ‘That’s all?’

‘Yep, that’s all of it. We’ll conquer this carnival with our delicious cotton candy,’ I nod, doing jazz hands while saying the last part. Dad chuckles. I grin.

‘Hey, Honey!’ I turn back, squinting to spot where my other dad is in the crowd of bustling people. Where, where…? Yep, there he is – in his embarrassingly brilliant sunshine yellow and bottle green striped shirt and hot pink trousers, a sharp contrast to his natural bright red hair. Don’t say that it can’t look that bright; you’ll never know just how blindingly bright bottle green can really be until you see the shirt my dad’s wearing. And trust me, he usually dresses in simpler tones; such bland tones that you’d be surprised to know he was capable of wearing colourful hues as well. It’s only that he’s very passionate about his job, and so whenever we set up a booth in fetes such as the current one, he never misses to match the shop logo.

‘Hul-lo, father dearest, how seems to go your day?’

‘Oh, quite lovely, if I do say so.’

‘Well, that’s simply charming –’

‘Alright, enough,’ my other, not redhead dad snaps with an exasperated sort of smile on his visage. You see, my not redhead, a.k.a. brown-haired dad happens to be British. And that means that me and dad would rather paint our teeth blue than to not tease him. ‘You both need to shut it and start helping me with the decorations, now. You know I’m trash at all that.’

‘Aw, now don’t get discouraged,’ I say, patting dad on the back. ‘After all, not everyone can be as blessed as me, can they?’

‘Hey, why don’t you go look around for a bit? You’ve been helping out since before I have.’

‘Yeah, he’s right, pet. You should.’

I huff, rubbing my palms on the fabric of my jeans. ‘You guys sure? I’m not tired, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘We’re not worried, we’re just saying you should also get a look, you know? There’s a lot of surprising booths this time around. I mean, there are aliens participating too, so…’

‘Hmm,’ I play with my bottom lip a little, then, ‘yeah, okay. I’ll be back in like, an hour? Forty five minutes? Sound okay?’

‘Sounds great.’

‘Bye, then.’ And with that, I turn on the heels of my Converse, wandering about the pretty stalls and eager children and kissy couples and aliens with curious features.

It really feels bizarre, just how astonishingly fast mankind has accepted the existence of aliens. It seems simultaneously ages and just a day before when conspiracy theorists raged all around the world, presenting baseless theories and concepts as to why and how the three-man squad on the Kerberos mission disappeared. Then came the Galra, bringing along with them global terror – because alien life, intelligent alien life existed and humanity remained oblivious all these millennia, and now they were actually attacking us. It could’ve been, perhaps even was, in some other dimension, the end of Earth. But then a defender appeared; Voltron appeared in all its glory, bringing along with it proof that however much these purple aliens claim that humans are scum of the universe, humans were, in the grand scheme of things, the ones that saved the universe too.

It feels even more puzzling to actually be on a first-name basis with the leader of Voltron; that’s right, I’m personally acquainted with Keith Kogane. It was around six months after him leaving the Garrison did I come across him. He’d been loitering around the neighbourhood, had ended up in a fistfight with some other kids, and along with that a split lip and bruised cheek. I’d been watching. When the fight ended, I (somehow) persuaded him to come along so that I could at the very least provide him with a band-aid.

Long story short, we’d bonded over how our moms were no-shows and how dads were the best and we became surprisingly close friends; the only difference was that after the death of his old man, he lived alone. I’d been adopted by my two current fathers. I told him about how when they’d initially adopted me, I was excruciatingly shy. I wouldn’t even come out of my room except meals. It was only when I came to know that they knew how to make candy floss had I timidly approached them if I could have some, because previously I’d always been grossed out at the thought of having to eat that. I’d overheard this group of kids saying that cotton candy was actually just dyed granny hair, so that’s where that came from.

I love cotton candy now. So much so, that even at the age of twenty-six, I will pout if someone takes some of mine without my permission. As if I’d ever allow them to.

Speaking of Keith, I haven’t seen him in years. We lost all contact when he turned eighteen, and then he went off into space, and even when he came back, I didn’t get a chance to meet him. I bear no ill will, though. He must have formed some close relationships. Our past friendship is comparatively much more trivial.

I spot a booth selling grilled corn. I instantly head there.

As I’m about join the crowd of humans and aliens who also want corn, a familiar call of my name leads me to pull a three sixty.

Lo and behold. Keith Kogane.

Despite him having obviously grown a lot, the face was still the same. I’m sure that, if he gets a split lip and bruise on his cheek right now, he won’t look all that different.

There’s a questioning hesitance on his features; he’s probably wondering if he’s got the right person. My pleasantly surprised smile and raised eyebrows assure him. As I step away from the grilled corn stall, I notice a motley crowd behind him; some are purple, some are holding Voltron plushies, and some look way too curious to be in a carnival. The introduction is going to be fun.

‘Keith! You're gonna live a hundred years - I was just thinking about you. But anyways, it’s – it’s great to see you,’ I say with a little giggle. ‘Though I am kind of surprised you actually approached me. The sixteen-year-old you would never.’

He smiles awkwardly in return. ‘Y – yeah… I, just… oh God, this is – I’m sorry,’ he says, his inner turmoil evident.

‘It’s all good. I know you’re shit at small talk, so… like, introduce me? Maybe?’

He nods rapidly, brows furrowed. ‘Yeah, um,’ he turns to the people behind him, telling them my name, how we met, the whole affair. I give them a wave. Most of them greet me back.

‘And, this is Shiro and Curtis,’ he points to the tall, white-haired yet young man, holding hands with a tanner guy, ‘Lance, Pidge and Hunk,’ he points to a lanky, bright-smiled guy, a buffer, kind-seeming person, and a short chestnut-haired woman who, despite wearing baggy jeans and a baggier tee, looks somehow better dressed than me. ‘Then that’s Allura, Coran, and Romelle, they’re Alteans,’ a woman with enchanting beauty and a regal aura surrounding her, a redhead who’s significantly older than the rest with an impressive moustache, and a youthful appearing girl with a big grin, ‘and Lotor, he’s Galran. The Galran Emperor, in fact.’ Lotor is a tall, lilac-skinned man with aristocratic features who shares the same cheek markings as the Alteans. Oh, and he’s unfairly gorgeous, his hair a luscious mane of white which I just know will be soft. It’s hard not to stare. You remember how I said Allura looked like royalty? Yeah, the way this man carries himself, he has the aura and visage of a God. Even in a white tee-shirt and jeans he looks way better than should be legal.

I rip my eyes away.

‘So…are Noah and Oliver here too? I’d love to see them. I mean, I never did get to thank them to permit a possible criminal to sleep in their house.’

I laugh. ‘Never mind that, but we actually sit up a stall here. I could, you know, maybe even get you guys something to eat.’

‘Free? Please don’t.’

‘It’s nothing, really, just… I don’t know, accept it as a small thank you present for not letting the planet go to shit.’

A bit of thinking. Even after a nod from Shiro, it was Lance who said yes. Good ol’ Keith.

When we reach the stall, my British dad is the only one we find there. He looks up, about to say something to me, when he notices Keith.

‘Dad. You remember Keith?’

‘Your possible criminal friend who turned out to be the saviour of the universe Keith?’

‘That Keith. He wanted to see you.’

‘Oh? Well then,’ he dusts his hands, stands up, and greets Keith. Both of them engage in a conversation.

‘You guys wanna try something?’

‘What do you got?’ asks Pidge.

‘What do we got? Um, we got chocolates, candy, marshmallows, jellybeans, tortilla chips, ice cream, popcorn – butter, cheese, caramel, peri peri – Lays, like, a lot of Lays, and the good old cotton candy. What d’you want?’

So, after providing the humans with two Cream n’ Onion Lays, a pack of tortilla chips, a double scoop of butterscotch and chocolate, a small tub of popcorn, and three cotton candy sticks, I turned to the aliens.

‘I’m assuming you guys aren’t familiar with a lot of this stuff, so you could either pick whatever looks to be good, ask your friends, or I could recommend something. What’ll it be?’

Romelle was the one who asked, ‘What’s ice cream like?’

‘It’s sweet. It’s cold. And it’s like… heaven in mouth.’

‘Ooh. I want an ice cream. The… pink one?’

‘That’s strawberry. You can eat it in a cone, or in a cup.

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Well, the cup you can’t eat. The cone is like a crispy biscuit,’ judging by her face, she didn’t know what biscuit was. ‘I’ll just give you a cone. It’s all on the house, so no worries if you don’t like it.’

I watched eagerly as she licked the ice cream. An unreadable look crossed her face. Then – ‘This is almost as good as Hunk’s cookies!’

‘Really?’ Coran asked, twirling his moustache. ‘Well, then…’ he squinted to read the names of the various flavours. ‘I would like “cookies and cream”. Yes.’ A cone of cookies n’ cream was served.

‘Allura?’

‘Do you have something that isn’t sweet?’ That was a plot twist. I’d have taken her as someone who appreciated sweeter foods.

‘We do. You want spicy?’

‘…Sure.’ Peri Peri popcorn was given and enjoyed.

And last… ‘Lotor. What would you like to have?’

It takes me a lot of will to not laugh at Lotor’s way too analytical expression. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Out of all this stuff, candy floss is my favourite.’

‘Candy floss… the item that looks simultaneously like a cloud and an old woman’s hair?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I would like a helping of candy floss, then.’

As I hand Lotor a stick of cotton candy, I wait with anticipation for his reaction.

‘How am I supposed to eat this?’

It takes me a moment to process that. ‘Uh, you just… pinch a little of the stuff in between your fingers, then eat it. Or you could just, um, go in directly, which I’m thinking isn’t really your style.’

He narrows his eyes, but follows my instructions nonetheless. Only a second after putting the stuff in his mouth, Lotor purrs.

Everyone around him, being me, Coran and Romelle (Allura’s off telling Lance how great Earth food is), looks with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Lotor appears as if he’s just died inside. The berry-shaded blush on his face is adorable, though.

'I didn't, like, poison you or something, right?'

'No. It's that... I would never in my lifetimes have expected something so tooth-rottingly sweet to be this delicious.'

'So you're okay?'

‘Yes. In fact, I quite like… this cotton candy.’

I grin.

[chudleycanonficfest]

I can't imagine my life without you

Day 13, Story #1 is by @cheesyficwriter

Title: I can’t imagine my life without you 

Author: cheesyficwriter

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Prompt: Song fic (lyric prompt), “Imagine” by Ben Platt

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of postpartum depression

I can’t imagine my life without you

It’s a day like no other, leaving Hermione wishing it could be over. 

The transition back to work at the Ministry full-time after giving birth to little Rosie presents more challenges than anticipated. Each day, she chips a fraction away at her massive to-do list, endless amounts of paperwork and research for upcoming trials, leaving her only mildly satisfied with what she’s accomplished. 

In reality, Hermione is aware that it’s in her nature to obsess over all aspects of her work that could go wrong. She always prides herself on her professionalism and now struggles with maintaining the work-life balance necessary for a new mum. 

Most days, she arrives at the Ministry too tired to think straight. The hours are long, and as someone running on frequent nights with minimal sleep, it’s difficult for Hermione to be as productive as she used to be in the department. 

Rosie is a fussy baby, and the hours not spent at work are spent fighting for ways to keep her calm — holding her, rocking, changing her nappy, feeding, entertaining. It’s unnatural for Hermione to feel like she has no clue what she’s doing, and that realization is frightening for a first-time parent.  

Ron is a doting father, who seems to be having a much simpler time adjusting to the new addition to the family. He approaches parenting with natural ease. As soon as Ron picks Rosie up, she stops crying. If Ron walks into the room, a smile lights up their daughter’s face. He brings joy into her world, leaving Hermione with an overwhelming feeling of uncertainty if she is cut out for her new role as a mother. 

Although Hermione tries to throw herself back into work to escape her struggles in her home life, the exhaustion takes a toll on her, resulting in far more emotional outbursts than deemed appropriate at work. 

It isn’t easy to remain patient when challenges seem insurmountable, goals unattainable, and negative thoughts creep in to seep the joy out of her day. 

As Hermione walks through the floo network to head home for the evening, she mentally prepares herself for the madness that she is certain she will walk into, if every other evening that same week is any indication. 

For the first time in weeks, Hermione doesn’t arrive home to a crying baby. In fact, the stunning silence brings a wave of panic, prompting Hermione to withdraw her wand and call out,

“Ron?“ 

Soft, melodic music floats through the room, and Hermione begins walking towards the source as she listens for the lyrics. 

Your eyes give life a new meaning

It’s like I found the North Lights

I never knew what I needed

Until I felt your hand holding mine

The sight Hermione uncovers has her at a standstill in the doorway of the kitchen. 

There is a self-stirring saucepan on the stove and several knives chopping potatoes. The sink overflows with bubbles, piles of dirty dishes sticking out from underneath the suds. 

Ron is there in the center of the room, cradling Rosie in his arms. He has a flannel thrown over his shoulder and a dummy in his hand as he bounces their cooing daughter.

A flat disc spirals on the gramophone in the corner of the room, the sound coming from it reverberating off the walls. 

Yeah, you say I’m your hero

But you are the one that saved me

If I ever lost you

I’d fall to my knees

Hermione leans against the door frame, her heart swelling with great love for her little family. She watches as Ron twirls around the room with a squealing Rose, and he’s dancing with a rhythm that she didn’t know he possessed. 

Covering her mouth with one hand, Hermione stifles a giggle, thinking back to a younger Ron and his clunky two left feet when they danced together at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He was so nervous then — they both were — and she marvels at how far they’ve come. 

Dancing is about letting go and being free. When nothing else works — as Hermione suspects is the case with Rosie, who has quite the set of lungs on her — turning on music seems to do the trick. 

I can’t imagine my life without you

I can’t imagine one night without you

Seeing her family in the kitchen does wonders to lift Hermione’s mood, and it’s as if all of the stress and negativity just melt away. All she can see is her husband and daughter, and Hermione becomes conscious of the heart beating inside her chest in time with the steady rhythm of the music. 

She’s torn between laughing, and crying, and bouncing along, and crying some more. Sometimes the best surprises can change the entire tone of a single day from the simplest of tasks. 

In the Granger-Weasley household, dancing is their reset button. 

If something happened, don’t know what I’d do

I can’t imagine, I can’t imagine my life without you

Ron has his back towards Hermione, slowly rocking Rosie from side to side with one hand while flourishing his wand towards the plates to start setting the supper table for three. 

“What d'ya say, Rosie?” Ron murmurs before plopping a kiss on his daughter’s cheek. “Shall we tell your mum to stop gawking at us and come join us?”

Your eyes give life a new meaning

It’s like I found the North Lights

Oh, I never knew what I needed

Until I felt your hand holding mine

Hermione gasps as Ron pivots around, meeting her gaze with a lazy grin and a wink. 

Rosie squirms in Ron’s arms, and she’s reaching towards her mother with glee. 

With a shaky breath, Hermione walks forward to take hold of her daughter, who rests her little head on Hermione’s shoulder. 

“She’s missed her mummy today,” Ron comments as he leans over Rose’s head of ginger hair to press a soft kiss to Hermione’s temple. 

“Mmm.” Hermione’s eyelids droop to a close. “Is she the only one?“ 

“Not a chance, Granger.” Ron brushes a hand down her cheek, making her eyelids flutter open. He’s studying her like he has a window into her soul, and it’s as if all of the emotions she’s felt throughout the day are now on full display for him to see. 

Ron always does have the impeccable ability to get her, particularly when she’s stressed beyond belief. 

“Bad day, love?" 

"Better now,” Hermione replies, burying her nose into the small patch of curls on Rose’s head, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh strawberries and warm milk. A smell that is so wonderfully baby. 

Her baby. 

Yeah, you say I’m your hero

But you are the one that saved me

If I ever lost you

I’d fall to my knees

When Hermione first arrived back at their cottage for the evening, all she wanted to do was fall underneath the covers and wallow. It could’ve been easy for her to fall into a looping pattern of self-pity.  

Seeing her family provides a sense of calm in the natural ebb and flow of life. However big or small, bad days are only temporary. 

Now, standing with the two most important people in her life, she’s filled with a sense of gratitude for their constant presence. Thanks to them, she knows what it means to be happy and to see the beauty in tough moments. 

I can’t imagine my life without you

I can’t imagine one night without you

If something happened, don’t know what I’d do

I can’t imagine, I can’t imagine my life without you

“It’s okay, love.” Ron cradles her cheek with one hand, a gesture that he knows always calms her. “It’s okay to let it all go.”

He rests his forehead to hers, and they slowly start to sway together along to the gentle rhythm of the song playing in the background. Rose squeals from the space between her parents’ bodies, reminding them of her presence. Both Ron and Hermione chuckle, planting matching kisses on both sides of their daughter’s cheeks. 

A wide grin spreads across Hermione’s face, and a familiar set of words filter into her thoughts: Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. Fond memories flashing through her mind of Professor Dumbledore — long white beard, spectacles, and all. 

It’s easy to lose sight of what’s most important when drowning in negativity. Dancing provides an opportunity for her to slow her thoughts down and root herself in the present. 

Her family is the source of light in her darkest times. 

I can’t imagine my life without you

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 10: You’re My Mission

Summary: The Asgardian Staff case is wrapped up but before Katie and Steve can be re-united, the Super Soldier has a mission of his own to complete. Their reunion doesn’t disappoint, and as she weighs up the events of the past few months, Katie reaches a conclusion about her future with SHIELD

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Smut (NSFW)  over 18s only thanks. Bit of bad language….

A/N: Another lovely edit from @angrybirdcr​ of Katie in action.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 9

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 Tarim. Yemen. The hottest place Steve had ever been. Ever. And a place he had no desire to go back to. Ever. 

As far as he was concerned, this whole mission had been a cluster fuck of epic proportions. The Mercs they had been sent in to deal with were slightly more ruthless than they had anticipated, taking a group of school kids from the square hostage. Evans and Rollins (in Katie’s absence) managed to contain most of them, taking them down with non-fatal injuries, as was the agreement with the Government, but one of them wasn’t going quietly and had snatched up a kid as he made a break for it.

The Yemeni Special Forces were on their way, and Steve knew that if they arrived permission to execute a kill shot would be given. But even that was dangerous, as the guy had the kid held in such a position, his back to a wall, her held across his chest, that the angle would have been impossible. Steve ordered the team to lower their weapons, and stepped forward, hoping to talk the man down. And then Rumlow had taken a shot, off-loading a bullet straight between the Merc’s eyes.

And Steve was mad, mad as a wasp.

“I gave you a direct order…” He stood, hands on his belt in the jet as he looked at Rumlow, the nerve in his jaw twitching.

“I made a call.” Rumlow shrugged “If I hadn’t they would have gotten away…”

“You put those civilians lives in danger.”

“That’s a little dramatic…”

“Yeah, come on Cap.” Rollins spoke.“The kid was fine, we got the weapons Government were ok…no harm done.”

Steve rounded on him, his blasé tone set his teeth on edge.

“That isn’t the point.” he blazed “I wouldn’t have asked Barton to take a shot like that. I wasn’t, and never will be, willing to risk anyone’s life like that, not to mention that of a child, for collateral damage, just to get what we need. It makes us no better than the people we’re trying to stop.”

“It worked didn’t it?” Rumlow shrugged

“Sheer luck.” Steve retorted.

“Well sometimes you just get lucky.” The STRIKE leader shrugged. 

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need this shit.

“Look Cap, with all due respect, I’ve been running this team for years. You don’t get to do our job without taking a bit of risk.” Rumlow looked at him. “Now I’m sorry if you feel I was challenging your authority…”

“It has nothing to do with my authority.” Steve blazed at him.

“Really? Because that’s what it looks like from my position.” Rumlow shook his head “I’m sorry you feel this way. But it isn’t as simple as that. Life isn’t split into good guys and bad guys, it ain’t black and white… more shades of grey.”

Steve didn’t reply, he simply stared at Rumlow, his eyes raging before he moved away to a seat for take-off next to Natasha.

“Let it go Rogers.” She drawled softly to him. “You’ve chewed him out…you want my advice, leave it there.”

Steve didn’t reply. He was pissed and didn’t trust himself to say anything. He hadn’t heard from Katie so far today, but he wasn’t expecting to as he’d fired her a message last night, or this morning (he had no idea what time-zone he was in anymore) to tell her he was off on an urgent mission.

It was pathetic, he knew, but being away from her was really setting him on edge. Not just because he found jerking off in the shower was far less satisfactory now than before he’d actually started sleeping with her, but more so he was missing the stupid things, like her draping her legs over his on the couch whilst she was reading, her singing when she was cooking, the way she laughed till she cried at Brooklyn Nine-Nine, even demanding he make her a grilled cheese at 02:50 am…

Steve watched with amusement as the girls walked out of the bar, a little shaky, Katie leaning on Natasha laughing at something. He’d dropped them both off earlier in the evening and said he would pick her up later, even though they said they would get a cab. He had insisted, he loved looking after her and that was what boyfriends did right? Picked their dames up. However, as they teetered over to Katie’s car, it looked like he was about to inherit a pair of drunken, giggling idiots to look after, and the thought made him smile with fondness.

“Hi baby!” Katie greeted him as she climbed into the seat. She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek and he smiled.

“You had fun? You look like you have.”

“Fun is my middle name Rogers.” Nat winked and Katie sniggered in the seat next to him as he pulled the car off from the curb.

“Nat’s gonna stay at mine.” Katie turned to look at him, her cheeks tinged pink with the alcohol “Afterparty!”

“Don’t you think you’ve both had enough?” He teased and. Katie put her fingers to her lips and told him to shush whilst Nat leaned forward.

“Just because you can’t get drunk.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Whatever, your funeral Romanoff.” He smirked, eyes on the road.

“God he’s so sensible, how do you cope?” Nat looked at Katie. Through the corner of his eye he saw a wicked smile cross his girls face.

“He has hidden talents” She quipped, before the two women descended into fits of giggles.

Steve let out an exasperated noise through his nose, but secretly he didn’t mind. He loved that she’d had a good time, even if he had the sneaking suspicion he’d been the butt of a few jokes, probably even a few risqué girl chats too.

“Hey, yoooo wanted to come get us..” Katie picked up on the noise he had made and looked at him. “Can’t stand the heat stay the fuck out the…” she paused “erm…”

“Kitchen?” Steve supplied, looking at her, left hand on the wheel, amused grin on his face

“Yeah, that.” She pointed.

“Kitchen is very much your domain sweetheart”

“Not what I heard” Nat chipped in. “She says you make a mean grilled cheese….”

“Oh my god.” Katie said suddenly “can you make us one?”

“What, now?” he frowned.

“Well obviously not right now as this is a carrrr” She rolled her eyes, gesturing around her “But when we get home. I’m hungry.”

He looked at her “Doll, it’s almost three in the morning.”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeese Stevie.” She pouted, batting her eyelashes at him in a ridiculously over the top manner, which he couldn’t do anything but laugh at.

“Alright I’ll make you both a grilled cheese” He nodded, unable to stop the smile creeping across his face, even when he heard Natasha burp the word “bitchwhipped” from the back seat.

Emerging from his memories, Steve lay his head back against his seat, shooting a glance over at Rumlow. The man was still being deliberately obtuse about the fact he was going out with Katie and he knew full well that the disobeying of order was a direct ‘fuck you’ aimed at him. But, as he thought about it whilst they flew home, he knew Natasha was right. The more he kept going on about it, the more likely it was to cause a bigger rift. With that in mind, during the debrief with Fury, Steve remained calm and when the time came he nodded at the STRIKE leader, giving him the floor when needed, both sticking to the facts- the operation had worked (Steve didn’t go as far as to use the word success), they had managed to seize the weapons and capture the main cartel leader who was now in custody of the Yemeni Services.

“What I wanna know is why are there so many of these weapons turning up?” Evans asked. “The DODC ran an extensive clean-up operation.”

“They were littered all over the New York, spreading the entire Manhatten area.” Steve said, answering as he looked at the Texan. “The DODC did as much as it could as fast as it could but people were already out there taking bits for themselves before the Chitauri had even been stopped. Katie says they’re still tracking through any leads, sifting out those who took them for souvenirs and those who took them for less scrupulous reasons…it could take years.”

“It was always going to happen.” Natasha shrugged “Terrorists are always looking for the next big thing.”

“Which is why we will always be looking for them.” Fury drew the meeting to an end as he stood up. “Alright, written reports to me no later than forty-eight hours. Other than that, you can head home.”

“Sir” Steve nodded as everyone started to file out. Steve noticed Natasha was hanging back.

“You ok?” She asked.

“Tired, fed up…” he sighed.

“Missing your girl?”

“A little” He admitted, before deciding to ask Nat what was on his mind because he could trust her honesty “Am I being old fashioned here, you know, with not wanting people to die?”

“No.” Natasha shook her head after a pause and he could tell she was picking her words carefully “I just think sometimes…well, we have to accept that we have to take risks.”

“You think Rumlow was right?” He sighed.

“Not as such.” she shrugged, “But I understand why he did it. I don’t necessarily agree with his methods shall we say but…”

Steve ran his hands over his face and couldn’t help thinking to himself how much simpler it had been in the war. They shot at them, they shot back. He let out a deep breath.

“You still taking some time off?“ She looked at him.

Steve shrugged and then looked at his fit bit for a second, thinking to himself the stats would make interesting reading. It was 5 in the morning. He hadn’t slept now for almost twenty-two hours bar the quick nap he had gotten on the jet. At that point his phone sounded with a message from Katie. A photo taken of Galway Bay in Ireland. Smiling at the simple message “Wish you were here.” he looked back at Natasha and nodded.

 “Yeah. I think I am.”

****

“Are you sure he’s okay to go out into the field?” Katie asked Coulson, one eye on Ward’s back. The man had just slammed a case shut, making everyone jump in the hanger and he was growing increasingly broody. Despite herself, she was feeling a pang of sympathy for him. She knew how hard it had been for him to open up about his past, and holding part of the staff had really shaken him. “He’s not exactly acting like himself.” she concluded.

“But he knows it. He’ll be fine.” Coulson replied as they walked to the SUVs. It was a short ride to the Monastary which was located just outside of Galway and Katie spent the time watching the scenery. She loved Ireland, she’d been a few times when at University in the UK. Her mind wandered to her soldier, who himself had Irish roots, his mother and father hailing from Limerick. Smiling, she pulled out her phone. She knew it would be late back in the US, it was barely touching ten am where the where and the time difference would make it the middle of the night. That is if he was back from the mission yet. Still, she took a photo of the coast road they were on skirting the edge of Galway Bay which in the November sun looked stunning, the light bouncing off the calm blue sea reminding her of those deep ocean pools she loved to look into. She sent it to Steve with a simple message ‘wish you were here’ and then shoved it back into her jacket pocket. 

The monastery itself was a beautiful gothic building set into the side of a green hill. They all climbed out and checked their weapons, Coulson once more going over the plan of action before they headed to the large front door.

 “Well, it’s been a while.” Elliot said quietly as they walked into the building, Katie taking a moment to appreciate the architecture, another thing Steve would love. “I wonder – ah, yes. There it is. Still here”.

He walked to the front of the room where a book lay set up on a stand.

“Well, the nose isn’t quite right, but…”

 Katie and Coulson walked up behind him, followed by the rest of the group to see that he was looking at a drawing of a man wearing long robes and holding the staff.

“That’s you?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“Yeah, they venerated me a bit as a saint.”

“They’re idiots” Ward spat viciously. They all spun round to look at him, where he was stood a few feet behind them all.  “Where’s the staff?”

“It’s upstairs.”

Elliot led the way, the team following up a set of spiralled staircase. Katie and Coulson were directly behind him, taking the lead with May and Ward shortly behind them as deputies.

 “It’s quiet.” May said softly

“ Why do you think I trusted them with my secret?” Elliot shrugged, still walking on ahead. He Elliot stopped in front of some sort of cabinet and ran his hand down the side before he reached for the handle. “They take a vow of silence.”

“But when you get them talking, they squeal.” A low male voice said, it’s owner appearing from behind one of the walls to the left of the cabinet, holding two pieces of the staff, one in each hand.  It was the man whose mugshot Katie had seen on the tablet earlier that day, Jakob. Suddenly he held one piece up high and stabbed Elliot in the chest with it, he fell to the floor.

 He turned and advanced on the rest of them, and Katie reached for her gun, readying herself. To her left she felt someone bend down to Elliot, presumably to try and treat him.

 “No one else wants to get hurt.” Coulson spoke to Jakob, his gun raised. Jakob cocked his head to one side, looking at it before he stared back at Coulson.

 “If you want to defeat a God, you must become one”

 Suddenly there was a loud yell and a scream. Katie spun round to see Ward had bent to Elliot, only it wasn’t to treat him, it was to retrieve the piece of the staff stuck in the Asgardian man’s chest. He held it in his hand and then suddenly threw himself at Jakob, knocking Katie and May out of the way as he went. The two men fell over the banister railing to the floor below.

Katie scrambled to her feet and looked down to see Jakob recovering from the fall first. She aimed with her gun but couldn’t get a clear shot in, as he picked Ward up like he weighed nothing and slammed him back down to the ground.

 “We need to help him!” Skye said, looking at Ward before she ran off.

“Skye!” Coulson called, he was now bent over Elliot and speaking furiously into his coms for Jemma Simmons to come help. “She can’t fight, she’s not trained…”

May nodded, “We’ll get her. Stark, with me.”

Katie nodded and ran after May, the pair of them practically jumping down the stair. Ward was now on his feet and as Jakob lunged at him, he flung himself to the right out of the way.

“Skye.” May instructed as they caught up with the dark hared girl who was watching Ward now ducking and diving the swipes from Jakob “Stay outta this…”

Both Katie and May stepped forward, but as they did so, Ward paused what he was doing and bent to grasp the part of the staff that was on the floor next to him. His face contorted in rage and when Jakob came at him again, Ward punched him hard in the face, enough to cause him to fly back against the wall where he slumped to the ground before Ward rammed him straight in the chest with the staff in a fit of rage like nothing anyone could comprehend. Ward’s chest was heaving and he spun round to see the other three agents watching him cautiously. His eyes were blazing with a fire Katie had never seen before.

“Ward.” May approached, tentatively stopping when Ward held his hand up.

“Get away from me.” His face was contorted in rage.

“Grant.”  Katie tried gently, stepping forward so she was level with May. “They’re right, that thing, this isn’t you.”

 Something clearly registered in his brain and his face softened slightly but then suddenly the door was kicked open and they whirled round to see the rest of Jakob’s group enter the monastery.  The three agents regrouped and Katie took her fighting stance, weighing up their opponents. It had been a while since she had been in a full force hand to hand combat, but she was pleased to find that her training with Natasha and Steve had kept her prepared. She dodged, ducked, punched, kicked, flipped up and over people, taking them down with her using her legs as the room filled with rowdy men and women, all yelling. May was working through them almost 2 at a time and Ward, now holding two of the staff pieces from somewhere, was easily fighting off a group of them, the power he was gaining from the staff clearly visible.

Katie grabbed one man in a choke hold just as he was trying to get up, and as he stopped struggling she threw him to the ground, and looked round at the now quiet room. May nodded at her, taking a deep breath and Katie turned to see Ward who was shaking drop both pieces of the staff he was holding and collapse to his knees. Skye hurried over and knelt in front of him.

 “Are you alright?” May looked round Katie. She nodded looking giving her a small grin, reaching up to tenderly brush at her cheekbone. One of them had landed a good shot.

“Been a long time since I had a full on fight like that, not using my guns.” she said, and May’s mouth curled up at one side before she made her way over to help Skye get Ward to his feet. Just as Katie was about to join them, the door opened again. She spun round to see another face she recognised from the photos, Jakob’s girlfriend, Petra stood there, the third piece of Staff in her hand.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me” Skye said from behind Katie.

Katie looked around glanced at May who also turned her attention to Petra as she was now circling the room. Which a quick flick of her gun, Katie aimed a shot at her, but she simply whipped the piece of staff out in front of her and it tinged the bullet off to one side.

 “We’re no match for her whilst she has that” May said and instinctively Katie glanced down at the two pieces of staff on the floor near them. Grant wearily sighed and went to pick it up but Katie dropped down on one knee and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“You’re not in any state to do that.” she said not unkindly as she looked at him, “Let me help.”

“Kay…” he started to argue, the use of his nickname for her registered but now wasn’t the time to chastise him, nor did she really find she cared enough to do so. It was then that May cut in.

“She’s right. We can’t beat them unless we’re on a level playing field.” She shot him a look and he nodded.

“Okay.”

Skye helped Ward away as May and Katie watched Petra as two men from the group they had taken down earlier got to their feet. Petra looked round the room and let out an audible gasp as she saw Jakob’s body for the first time. Katie slowly and apprehensively reached out for a piece of the staff, hesitating for a moment as she had no idea what was going to happen when she did pick it up. May looked at her nodding and then the pair of them reached out, each gripping a piece.  Katie gasped as a warm sensation flooded up through her arm and then her head was like it was somewhere else. Which it was, she was back in what, according to Professor Randall, should be the worst moment of her life, only it wasn’t the moment she had initially thought of when he’d told them that…

Rhodey was on the doorstep of her Chelsea apartment at three am local time. She knew instantly that something was wrong. Without a word he entered, and told her that Tony’s ARV had been attacked and they had no idea where he was. She almost collapsed and he helped her over to the sofa where she sat still, tears falling as she listened. The room fell silent, and with a shaking hand she reached for the remote and turned the TV on to the News Channel, to see her Brother’s face plastered all over the screen.

“I’m sorry Kiddo…” Rhodey’s voice was choked and she turned to look at him “I should have been with him but he insisted on riding in the other ARV, the FunVee…” he shook his head, snorting angrily.

“Who’s taken him?” She asked, swallowing.

“We’re think it was an Ambush by the Ten Rings.” Rhodey swallowed. “We’ve not had a ransom note yet but we expect it’s a matter of time. We’ll find him.”

“It’s finding him alive that’s the issue, Rhodey” She wiped away the tears from her face, the sick feeling in her stomach threatening to overwhelm her and it felt like someone had a band over her chest that they were constricting, hard…and then it was to much, and she bolted to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet…

Gasping Katie took a deep breath and looked up sharply as one of the men flew at her. Letting out a yell of rage, pent up anger and hurt she launched forward as Petra did the same. Their pieces of staff blew against one another and soon they were battling, fiercely. Katie was fighting to kill, and she instantly understand what had made Ward run Jakob through with the staff. 

It felt good. 

She could hear and see in the corner of her eye that May was also tackling a few more members of the group, easily keeping them at bay but Katie was focussed on one thing, the woman in front of her. She was good, matching Katie blow for blow but eventually Katie’s tenacity and training started to win out and she began to get the edge. She swung forward with a huge swipe and knocked Petra to the ground causing the woman to drop her part of the staff. Automatically it joined with the piece Katie was holding in her right hand, glowing orange again.

“It’s been a month, Katie…” Obediah said “A month…I hate to say this but the chances of him coming back…”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Obi!” Katie wheeled round “Tony is alive, and until someone shows me any kind of evidence to the contrary…then things stay as they are, I don’t give a shit what the board say.”

She watched him out of the room before she dropped her head to the desk and began to cry. She didn’t stop, even when Pepper walked into the room and dropped an arm round her shoulder, the pair of them lost…

A crash caught Katie’s attention and she saw May had dispatched the remaining fighters. She glanced up, and saw what Katie was doing and instinctively threw her piece of staff over to her. Katie grabbed it, joining it with the other combined pieces completing the staff.

Katie gave a yell as once more that warm feeling spread up her arm to her chest and her memories swallowed her.

“Your government has for far too long sold weapons, manufactured by Mr Tony Stark, to our oppressors, to our enemies. This is blood in exchange for blood, death in exchange for death, meet our demands or within 48 hours the great Tony Stark is no more…”

The room came back into a bleary focus, just as Petra staggered to her feet, swaying slightly.

“I am not afraid of you.” She spoke, her accent thick.

“You should be…” Katie snarled, as she advanced towards her. Quick as a flash she let out a loud cry and struck Petra with the staff, hard in the face. She fell backwards to the floor, deadly still. 

And then a different voice spoke in Katie’s mind a clear voice. Her own voice.

“He escaped, though. And he was fine, well as fine as Tony ever is. So there’s really no need to fear this memory because that’s all it is, a memory. It all worked out in the end…”

Katie dropped the staff and fell to her knees, her entire body shaking with the exertion of wielding the Asgardian weapon. Her head was pounding with those memories, the voices, everything. Her hands flew into her hair as she bent over, trying to focus on anything but her thoughts.

“Hey…” Two hands were on either side of her face, and Katie looked up into May’s eyes. “Focus on me, Stark.” Katie took a deep breath as May’s hands slid gently down to the side of her shoulders. “Can you stand?” She asked. Katie nodded and then looked over at Petra.

“Is she…” She managed to croak out. Had she killed someone? In blind rage?

“Don’t worry about her” May shook her head, “I’ll take care of it.”

Katie got to her feet with May’s help, glancing over at Ward and Skye. Ward gave her a small nod of his head, which she acknowledged with a small incline of her own as May helped her out of the smaller Vestibule room they’d been fighting in and through to the entrance hall of the Monastery, the sun streaming through the stained glass windows.

“That thing…” Katie took a deep breath “Ward wasn’t wrong…it…”

“Tell me about it.” May’s voice was quiet, and Katie realised the normally stoic woman was shaking, although not quite as violently as her. The two of them settled on a large slab of stone. They were shortly joined by Ward as he sat besides them, the three of them didn’t talk for a while, merely lost in their own thoughts, Katie wanting nothing more than to get home to see Steve.

“When you held it…” Ward said eventually, breaking the silence. “Did you see anything?”

May nodded, and so did Katie.

“Then how, Kay? How did you hold all three?” Ward looked at her

She paused, thinking about it for a moment.

No need to fear this memory

“Because it’s a memory that I don’t need to be afraid of.” she shrugged eventually. “And I see the reason why every time I look at Tony.”

*****

Steve packed a bag. There was, sadly, one last mission standing between him and his girl. And he no idea how long this particular mission was going to take. It was completely rogue, way off SHIELD’s official radar anyway, only Fury and Natasha knew what he was doing.

Oh, and Tony. He’d enlisted the Billionaire’s help because had a somewhat personal interest in this case. So much so he’d leant him the Stark Jet, because he couldn’t use the Quinjet, and the fact that like everything Tony owned, his jet was faster and better than anything else, it had shaved a good 2 hours off what the journey would have taken had he flown full commercial, not to mention saved him a load of messing about in the meantime with bookings and check ins.

The jet was comfortable, he had flown on it a few times with Katie before back to NYC when they didn’t drive that was. As soon as he was airborne he face timed Katie using the connection on the plane and had hissed at the bruise on her cheek. She had batted off his concern and instead went on a rant about how cheap Fury was. He had to laugh at her indignant tone, apparently they had arrived at a Premier Inn a few hours ago and she had refused point blank to get out of the SUV and after a battle of wills with Coulson had upgraded the entire team to the Sheraton just outside of Galway within ten minutes. Apparently overnighters weren’t standard for the team she was working in as they had the Bus but Coulson had decided they all needed some down time after what sounded like a gruelling mission.

“And what better way to do that in a 5 star hotel with a spa, right?”

They talked for the longest time they had in the three, almost four days she had been gone and Steve loved it. She didn’t go into much detail about the mission itself, bar to say it had ended in a pretty ruthless fight and that she was mentally and physically exhausted, promising to tell him all about it when she saw him. He told her in no uncertain terms that they were both going to take some time out, Fury had cleared it and her face had lit up, but then fallen when he sadly told her he had one last mission to sort. After assuring her it wouldn’t take long, and it really wouldn’t, she had smiled and told him she couldn’t wait to see him.

“Me either Doll, me either.”

He took the opportunity to get some sleep, and was awoken by one of the stewardesses a few hours later who informed him they were an hour out. Thanking her he headed off to change out of his comfy sweats and into his specially selected outfit, one that would make him blend in a lot more than the stealth suit. Once he had arrived, cleared customs at the private airfield they had landed at, he climbed straight into the arranged official looking blacked out SUV and the driver set off, not a word spoken. The driver already knew their destination, Fury had already patched that information through before he had taken off.

It was easy to blag his way in to the building he needed to be in. Dressed in a black suit, all he had to do was quickly flash his SHIELD ID badge and the woman at the desk was only too happy to provide him the information about where he could find his target, and access to the required area. He didn’t take the elevator, it was too easy to be spotted. Instead he snuck round and found the service stairs and bolted up them two at a time to the seventh floor, his kit bag containing his shield slung over his shoulder.

****

After they had checked in to the decent hotel, not that Premier Inn (which she was sure was clean and perfectly comfortable, but she wanted fucking luxury after three nights of being in that pokey room) and she’d spoken to Steve for at least an hour, Katie showered, changed and headed off out to explore the area with Skye. The two had chatted, Katie really did like the girl, and they’d done a bit of shopping, had a late lunch, before they had headed back to the hotel and made use of the Spa. Then, she’d sat and eaten with the team, before bidding them all goodnight and retiring to her room with a bottle of Krug (because, why not?) and a long assed hot bath.

She tried to face time Steve again, but this time he didn’t answer. Probably elbow deep in whatever mission he was on this time, he’d been very vague about this one, saying it was hush hush but he would explain all in person, including what had gone down in Yemen which sounded like an utter shit-storm.

Changing for bed, Katie dropped onto the comfortable couch of the suite (ok, so she’d upgraded herself a teensy bit more than everyone else), poured herself another glass of Krug, slightly disgruntled to see the bottle was empty. So she rang down for another, fuck it.

Just as she had put the phone down, her cell called.

“Hey baby.” Steve spoke and Katie could hear the smile in his voice. “Sorry, the phone won’t let me face time for some reason.”

“Well that’s a shame because I’m naked.”

Steve groaned and Katie felt herself grin. “Don’t do that to me.”

“Sorry.” She giggled “I’m not really, just wish you were here.”

“I know.” He sighed “Me too”

“I’m taking it that seeing as you can talk your super-secret spy shit mission is done.”

“It was surprisingly easy” He mused, “Target didn’t suspect a thing and thanks to a very helpful lady I met, I got in with no fuss.”

“Helpful lady?” Katie narrowed her eyes. “How helpful?”

Steve let out a chuckle “All I had to do was flash my ID and smile”

“Coz you’re a regular charmer, aint you?” Katie laughed, and then there was a knock on the door. “Oh hang on… room service.”

She got up off the couch, made her way to the door, phone still in her hand and she pulled it open.

“Hey Doll.” Steve grinned at her and her mouth dropped open, the phone slipping out of her hand to the floor. “Surprise.”

She was a sight for sore eyes. Silk cami top and shorts, her hair falling in damp waves around her face. God he’d missed her.

“What…you…” She stammered, taking him in, the black fitted suit and tie he was wearing looked far better than it would have on anyone else and he laughed at the look of utter shock on her face “The mission, I thought…”

“You’re my mission, Sweetheart” He grinned, stepping into the room, dropping his kit bag, picking his phone up as he did so. And, no sooner had he straightened up, Katie gave a little shriek and threw herself into his arms.

“I can’t believe it.” She whispered, her hands straying to his face “You are here right? This isn’t just some weird trick my mind is playing?”

“I’m here, promise.” He placed a soft kiss to her lips. There was a clearing of a throat and Katie peeked over Steve’s shoulder to see a rather embarrassed looking hotel worker clutching the bottle of Krug she had ordered along with a fresh glass and an ice bucket. She tapped Steve’s arms and he reluctantly set her down so she could sign the receipt with a flourish. Steve smiled at the man, taking the ice bucket before closing the door. He followed Katie into the large hotel suite, and dropped the ice bucket and her phone onto the coffee table before sinking onto the couch and Katie climbed onto his lap, winding his tie around her hand.

“For the record,” she murmured as she looked him up and down, “this is a good look.”

“Glad you approve, Darlin’” He grinned as she tugged on his tie, pulling him closer to her, and she pressed her lips to his in a deep kiss.

He responded eagerly, hands creeping into her hair to hold her head in place as his tongue slid against hers, his hips rocking up before his lips dropped to her collarbone

“I missed you.” He purred as she let out a small groan, her hand sliding into his hair.

“I missed you too” She muttered, his hands gently fell to her hips, giving them a squeeze. “Take me to bed.”

Steve didn’t need asking twice. Standing easily, drawing a giggle from her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he paused and looked around.

“Trust you to get a suite that’s bigger then my apartment.”

“I have very high standards.” She shot back. “Door to the right.”

He gave a quick laugh and strode over to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the plush bedroom which was softly illuminated by the bedside lamp. Dropping her onto the huge bed he crawled over her as she once more grabbed his tie and pulled him down.

“You really do like this huh?” He arched his eyebrow,  ooking down at her as she gently slipped his jacket down his shoulders and he shrugged it off, tossing it to the floor.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a suit. Although I still think the Stealth one is better.”

“Maybe I should bring that home one night.” He muttered as his lips slid against her neck and she groaned.

“Please do. Your ass looks great in it.” She moved, pushing on his shoulders. Steve sat back on his heels and she locked her eyes on his, undoing his tie gently, a move she managed to make incredibly arousing and Steve let out a groan and he kissed her.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He whispered into her mouth

“Save it, you’re wearing too many clothes.” She replied, undoing the button on his collar and then her soft fingers made their way down his chest, her eyes following as it fell open. He shrugged it down before he fell back down on top of her and moved to pull her vest top over her head. As he tossed it aside somewhere he let out a gentle moan at the sight of her in front of him, and he wrapped his arm around her back and tugged her up slightly as his head bent to take a nipple into his mouth. He used both his hands and his mouth in a nearly coordinated attack that left her all but dying, and completely desperate for his touch elsewhere. He could read her body signals like a book and happy to oblige, one of his hands slid down, dipping into her bed shorts, finding him hot and wet for him. He groaned into her chest his fingers playing with her.

“Baby you’re soaked.”

She managed to moan in response, and then it was a race for the pair of them to get out of their remaining clothes as fast as they could. Once there was no barrier between them he kissed her hard, Katie shifting so that her legs went around his waist, pulling him flush against her, wanting to touch every inch of him possible. Steve repositioned himself slightly, gently working into her, the pair of them letting out a satisfied sigh as he bottomed out, stilling slightly just to savour the moment.

“Stevie…” Katie whispered into his ears “Please…” At her plea, he began to thrust, slowly, deeply, running his hand down Katie’s leg until his hand stopped at her knee. Katie looked at him as he seemed to hesitate for a split second before he directed her leg up, casually resting it over his shoulder so that he could go even deeper. She moaned loudly, he’d never done that before and it felt so unbelievably good, like nothing ever had before. Her fingers dug into his arm as he starting pushing a little harder, a little faster, then faster, until he had reached a relentless pace. Katie could do nothing but reach up, bracing herself on the headboard of the large bed as he continued, making her curse and leaving her short of breath, eyes closed in utter pleasure.

He slowed for a moment, making her look at him, letting out a noise of protest. “Don’t stop.” she begged, “Fuck, Stevie…”

He grinned, and it was a wicked grin, coupled with the mischievous flash in his eyes and it made her gulp slightly. She’d never seen him like this before, it was as if something had snapped and he was finally letting himself go fully, realising that after almost six months of sleeping together he didn’t have to be a gentleman all the time as she wasn’t going to break. As she stared into those baby blues, his pupils blown with desire he slowly pushed himself up so he could put her other leg over his other shoulder. 

“Oh, holy fuck-”  Her voice cut off and turned into a loud wail as he picked up the pace once again, pounding into her over and over and it wasn’t long before his name and another plethora of curses tumbled from her lips as her orgasm ripped through her like nothing she’d felt before. Her back arched, fingers dug into his back as he coaxed her through it before dropping her legs from his shoulders, laying atop her and chasing after his own end furiously. Katie held him close as she came down, gently encouraging him into his ear, his rhythm eventually stuttering and changing as he came with a frantic gasp of her name.

The pair of them were slick with sweat and absolutely spent as they laid still, no sounds coming bar the ragged gasps for air from them both. Steve buried his head in the crook of his girl’s neck and she ran her fingers through his hair, his forehead still clammy and he let out a loud hmmm of contentment.

A moment or so later, Katie broke the silence.

“Baby.” She said softly, a playful thought rising in her mind. His response was simply another hmmm because he was still utterly blissed out. This caused Katie to smile a little as she spoke again. “Did Cap just come out to play?”

She felt him grin into her neck, “I think he may have done, yeah.”

“Well you can tell him from me that was amazing?”

“I’ll be sure to let him know…” Steve mumbled, still not moving.

“In fact, I’d go so far as to say that’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Just probably?” Steve lazily raised his head to look at her and she made a show of looking upwards as if she was thinking about it.

“Ok definitely” She grinned, kissing him gently.

*****

Katie bid goodbye to Coulson’s team the next morning, Steve remained in the hotel room as he’d been under instructions from Fury not to speak to Coulson or draw attention to him in any way. Then they’d taken 3 glorious days break in Ireland, hiring a car and driving to Limerick.

As they drove, Katie told him all about the mission, what the staff had made her see, and how it had surprised her slightly what her worst memory was.

“I always thought it would be the time Tony told me mom and dad were dead” she said, softly a Steve cruised their hired Audi Q3 down the motorway. “Guess I fear losing Tony more.”

“It kinda makes sense.” Steve said, his hand straying to her knee “you were very young when the crash happened. Tony’s been your dad for, what, 22 years now? Far longer than Howard was I suppose.”

“Yeah.” she said gently, looking out of the window “I mean, I don’t remember a lot about my parents to be fair. I have memories, but sometimes I wonder how many of them are mine and how many of them are what people told me.”

Reminiscing seemed to be the theme of their brief trip away. They spent a day visiting the places Steve’s Ma had told him all about, then the next day, after a lazy morning they drove up to Dublin where they had both drunk a fair amount of Guinness after Katie dragged Steve to Temple Bar, showing him the places she had spent a fair few weekends in on trips over from the UK. They forgot all about SHIELD, all about Fury, all about missions. They were just a normal couple enjoying a break, and Steve had frankly never had as much fun in his life.

It was on their last night, just after they were curled up in post coital bliss after their 3rd round that evening when Steve mentioned about how it was back to reality the day after that Katie propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him, biting her lip.

“What if I don’t want to?” She asked quietly.

“Don’t want to what, Honey?” Steve asked, kissing her head.

“Go back. To SHIELD I mean.”

Steve’s hand paused its journey up and down her spine as he turned his head to look at her, frowning. “You want to leave?” 

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last 3 days.” she said, her fingers gently tracing over the dark blonde hair on his chest. “I can’t do it anymore Steve, I’m tired.”

“What’s brought this on?” he asked, turning so he was on his side facing her, pushing her hair back off her face.

“I can’t pin point one thing.” she said, looking down. “But…”

Steve paused, waiting for her to continue, and after a deep breath she did, her words coming almost as a jumble as she poured her heart out to him in the darkness of their hotel room.

“If I’m honest I’ve been thinking about it since we found out that they hadn’t been destroying the Chitauri weapons. Look what happened when Fury started fucking about with the Tesseract… I mean how do we know they’re not making more weapons just like they were before New York?”

Steve remained silent, that had been bubbling away in his mind too. He wasn’t best pleased about the situation but knew that Katie, who had headed up the DODC clean- up had taken it personally. She’d flipped out when Tony had told her what his latest hack into SHIELD had discovered and Steve had had to stop her marching into Fury’s office and calling him a liar there and then. He understood completely, she felt betrayed after having being told she was heading up a clean-up operation when in actual fact it turns out to be a goddamed technology harvesting operation.

“You now when Coulson died, I blamed myself. I made a decision to try to free Thor not help Coulson and I know I’d probably do it all over again because it was the right call, but the point is I blamed myself, for the past what, 18 months or so and Fury…he let me do that, he let me think he was dead…”

She was getting worked up, Steve could hear it and sense it, even if he couldn’t see her properly.

“Hey…” he said, his hand gently moving to her arm, rubbing softly as she continued her ramblings.

“And then there I get to The Bus and there’s more secrets there, not being told Ward was on the team, which to be fair wasn’t as bad as I thought but still, it’s more lies…”  

She was crying now and Steve sighed, wrapping his arms round her and pulling her to him. She pressed her face into his chest “This isn’t me Steve, it’s not who I am.”

He held her close, hand wandering up into her hair as he chewed over what she was saying. From a selfish point of view the thought of her leaving SHIELD worried him. She’d been his linchpin, his rock at the agency, and he relied on her more than she would know. He loved working with her, seeing every day and he was scared if that changed, so would their relationship. But there was a small part of him that also worried when she was on missions, and there was no doubt if she did quit she’d be a hell of a lot safer. And not all couples worked together, right?

He pulled back slightly, his large hand cupping her cheek “Hey, you know I got your 6 right? I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”

“I know.” She sniffed softly. I just feel like if I do quit, then I’m taking the easy way out, you know, I mean SHIELD is dad’s legacy.”

“Maybe once.” Steve popped his shoulder. “Times have moved on, SHIELD has changed. I doubt your dad, Peggy or Colonel Phillips would have ever imagined in a million years how it would evolve.”

“You’re telling me times have changed?” She quipped and he chuckled.

“Guess I am, but I learned pretty fast when I got that serum that you can’t live your life being who people want you to be or think you should be. You need to be true to yourself”

She nodded and stifled a yawn.

“Sleep on it.” He urged, his thumb stroking her cheek. “And then if it’s still what you want tomorrow, ’ll even write your resignation letter.”

“I got it planned” She yawned. “Dear Fury. Fuck you. Love Nova.”

Steve laughed and pulled her to him, kissing her head. “Maybe drop the Love Nova.”

****

“You sure you wanna do this?” Steve asked as they stopped outside Fury’s office. Katie nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, I’ll be right here.” He said, both his hands on her face. She gave him a smile and then turned and opened the door.

“Agent Stark.” Fury swivelled in his chair “Take a seat.”

“It’s okay Sir, this won’t take long.” She declined his offer, taking a deep breath.

“Do I need to borrow Captain Rogers SHIELD?” He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “I’m assuming this is the bit where you’ve come to tell me exactly how pissed at me you are.”

“I’m not pissed” She shook her head, “I was, but not now. I’m just disappointed.”

He eyed her, and gestured for her to continue.

“I expected better from you Sir. You lied to me. You let me believe Coulson was dead. You know I blamed myself for that for months, and then if that wasn’t bad enough you sent me to a team containing my ex boyfriend…and don’t even get me started on the fact you’re secretly hiding Chitauri technology instead of destroying it.”

At that Fury’s face slipped and his face grew dark. “How do you…”

She arched an eyebrow and Fury gave a groan.

“Son of a…your brother is a liability.”

“Maybe, but at least he isn’t a liar.”  She shot back. “And neither am I. I pride myself on being honest, doing the best I can and I don’t like being used or manipulated.”

 “Agent Stark…”

“I can’t do it anymore.” She hook her head. “I’m tired of it all, the lies, the secrecy. This isn’t…it isn’t me.” she finished, shrugging.

“So what are you saying Nova?”

“That you can consider this my formal resignation.” She looked at him, eyes not moving from his and for a moment she was sure she saw a flicker of something that looked like regret flash across the Director’s face. But it disappeared as fast as it had arrived and she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders back. “I will, of course, work any formal notice period.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in me trying to change your mind?”

“No, don’t suppose there is.” She shook her head.

“In that case, there’s no notice period necessary.” Fury spoke calmly, his posture returning to normal. He took a deep breath and strode round his desk, holding out his hand. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. You’re one of the best agents I’ve had. Coulson said you worked wonders on the Staff case.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She swalloed, fighting to keep her voice from cracking. “This hasn’t been an easy decision. For the most part, it’s been an honour to serve.”

She gently reached into her pocket, pulling out her official ID and ran her fingers over the silver badge before she handed it to him. Fury took it from her, and with one last smile she took a deep breath and turned, to leave, the tears brewing in her eyes.

This had to be one of the hardest decisions she’d ever made in her life but she wasn’t backing down. She’d talked it over with Steve extensively over the last two days and Tony too for that matter, her brother telling her that he, and their father would be proud of her no matter what. Undeniably her role at SHIELD had given her everything. A purpose, a new outlook on life, Steve. But now it was time to channel that energy in a new way.

“I would like you to remain on our books, in an advisory role.” Fury’s voice stopped her in her tracks and she grinned to herself, suddenly transported back to when he had said the same thing to Tony a few years ago.

She turned back and winked. “You can’t afford me.” 

**** Chapter 11

**Original Posting**

[sonnetthebard]

Owen doesn't really like horror movies and he gets paranoid pretty easily because of them. He hates that it happens and never tells anyone about it, he thinks its embarrassing for someone like him to be set off by something as simple as a movie. Curt also didn't know, until he proposed watching a horror movie one night. Owen went along with it because he knew Curt wanted to watch it with him and tried his best to sit through it, but Curt picked up on how uncomfortable he was -S

I know this was supposed to be headcanons, but... I had to write this as a oneshot. I absolutely love it.

Genre: Fluff/ Romance/ Angst

Words: 3171

TL;DR: Owen is not a fan of horror movies.

TW: Anxiety/ Triggering, brief mention of violence, panic attack, minor implied ptsd.

"Darling, I'm home!" Owen called into his shared hotel room teasingly.

"What, you're done scoping out the venue already?" Curt smirked, making his way out of his room, already dressed down to just a dress shirt (with a few buttons undone) and dress pants.

Owen smirked at that. Evidently Curt had decided his work for the day was over. They were in the primary stages of a small mission- one that should be simple. Intercept the passing of information from the French to the Russians- no matter the cost. If they had to kill someone, so be it. It may be an easy mission, but it was a crucial one. It was set to happen at the ballroom in one of the biggest estates in London during a gala hosted by its owners- set to happen in two days. The owners weren’t royalty, but they were rich- which probably made them more powerful than royalty either way. The event was going to be massive. Royalty and dignitaries from all around the world would be there- and, of course, the informants they were there to stop. If they didn't intercept this information... well, let's just say the Soviets would have a rather large military advantage. And that wasn't something anyone wanted.

Earlier in the day, Curt and Owen had gone out and met the family hosting the gala- who were in full support of their work. They’d even offered to be so good as to give them a discreet signal when their marks arrived. Of course Owen had turned that down because, even with good intentions, the utilization of untrained assets was always a risk. Once they were done with that meeting, Curt and Owen had done some genuine espionage. They were lucky. Their informant had told them when and where their marks would be in preparation for the gala. So they'd alternated locations to watch their opponents. That way no one got suspicious seeing the same two people watching them everywhere they went. Then Owen, being the keener that he was, had gone to the ballroom and scoped it out. He always loved that part of planning. Plus, the house was practically a castle, and it was old. Owen just wanted to see it. It was a marvel of architecture. But it was at least a productive visit. He had a good sense of the place. 

Now, though... Now Owen was exhausted. He'd had a big day preparing for not only his physical game but his mental one. So he was more than happy to be back with the man he loved. And he really did love Curt, in spite of his flaws. Owen was well aware of those. He would have to have been dull not to take them into account when preparing for their romantic relationship. Owen knew he was the more fit spy. He knew Curt could be a bit... careless at best, reckless at worst. And boy, did Curt’s ego ever get the better of him sometimes. But Curt was one of the most affectionate people Owen had ever met. His heart was massive, and he was as loyal as a dog. That was more than enough for Owen. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth. Owen may not have the smartest lover in the world, but... he had never felt more loved by one person. Not even his own parents.

"Already? Love, I was there for nearly three hours." Owen chuckled softly.

"You must be exhausted." Curt rolled his eyes playfully.

"As a matter of fact I am!" Owen scoffed, smirking and setting his jacket on the rack. Curt walked over to him, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and kissing him gently. Owen hummed into it, snaking his arms around Curt's waist. "What are you up to, Mega? Trying to breathe some life back into me?"

"No... I just missed you." Curt blushed lightly, still smirking and trying to play this off as cool as he could. "Am I not allowed to kiss my favourite partner after a long day of work?"

"Oh, you're more than welcome to..." Owen winked, giving him another gentle peck. He rested his forehead on Curt's, sighing. "I would say you could kiss me any time you’d like, but... well... we both know the world isn't quite ready for that."

"I know." Curt sighed. "One day..."

"We can only hope." Owen agreed. He gave Curt one more small peck of reassurance before, pulling away, walking into their room. "So what have we got for plans tonight? I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite at the fish and chips stand down the street. It's quite good. Then... maybe we could go to the cinema?"

"Actually... I was thinking maybe we could stay here." Curt bit his lip. "We've got a television here, and... they're showing Creature From The Black Lagoon on one of the channels we pick up. I missed it in the theatres while we were in Germany, and I've been hoping to see it for a few years now. It's a horror movie, and I've heard the special effects in it are great! We could watch it together!"

"Oh..." Owen bit his lip, breath hitching a bit at that.

Now... there was a bit of a dilemma. Owen came off as very suave, very tough, and impenetrable but... he had a bit of a problem with horror films. That, and films surrounding espionage. He didn't know what it was about the visual medium of storytelling that was becoming so popular, but... it affected him deeply. It was as though it set off something deep inside him, and brought up all his own fears. Even if they weren’t the fears discussed in the movie. As tacky as the movies were with their corny monsters and questionable acting they sparked his anxietes. Even worse to Owen was the irrational paranoia that came with it. The fear of something that didn't even exist. Even the things that very clearly could *never* exist. Like Dracula. Still, if Curt wanted to watch one with him, he would do his best to sit through it. Maybe he could focus his attentions on Curt and not the movie. Or maybe this movie wouldn’t get to him so badly. 

"Oh what?" Curt checked, the smallest trace of concern riddling his features.

"It's nothing." Owen chuckled, trying to mask his lie. He didn't want Curt worrying about him for something so trivial. "I would love to. What are we doing for supper though?"

“I didn’t think that through.” Curt admitted. “We, um... well, we’ve got half an hour before the movie starts. Maybe we could grab fish and chips and eat it here while we watch?”

“Sure thing, love.” Owen sighed. “You want me to go and get it, then?”

“That works for me.” Curt nodded. 

“And do you want me to get some crisps for later in case you get a bit peckish?” Owen checked. 

“Can a get a translation of that?” Curt teased. He knew most of what Owen meant, he just loved bothering him and he knew how much his boyfriend hated Americanisms.

“Do I really have to?” Owen groaned. Curt just raised his brows in expectation. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you... Do you want me to get you some ‘potato chips’ for later in case you get the ‘munchies’?”

“I would love some potato chips.” Curt smirked triumphantly. 

“‘Potato chips’...” Owen grumbled, grabbing his jacket again. “Bloody Americans butchering our language...”

“Love you too!” Curt called out the door teasingly as Owen left. 

The fish and chips place wasn’t far down the street. It was one Owen knew well- his parents had even taken him there as a child. He remembered those days... Things were simpler. Not nearly as complicated as his life had become. But that wasn’t why Owen was so eager to get out of the hotel room. No, Owen wanted the space alone to brace himself and prepare himself for this movie. Because he’d always been strong for Curt. He didn’t want Curt seeing him weak. So he just needed a bit of fresh air. That’s also why he’d volunteered to get the crisps (no matter what Curt wanted to call them). Extra time to steel himself. He took his time, but even then he only spent twenty minutes out of the house. Still... it was better than having had no time at all to prepare. He took deep breaths, making his way back to the hotel room. 

“Alright, darling. I have the food.” Owen called him, taking his shoes off and walking into the hotel. He set the food down on the coffee table. Curt walked out, dress shirt completely gone now. In it’s place, a white tank top. He was in denim jeans now, likely so that he didn’t ruin his dress pants. Owen smirked. “I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie, love...”

“We are.” Curt furrowed his brows, confused. He sat down on the couch, taking one of the meals for himself. Owen shrugged his jacket off, hanging it back up. He then joined Curt on the couch, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Well... you’re very distracting...” Owen hummed. Curt blushed. 

“I can put my shirt back on...” Curt mumbled. 

“No, darling. Don’t do that.” Owen sighed contentedly, taking the meal Curt hadn’t taken and setting it in front of himself. Curt had taken out his multi-purpose hunting tool and a pocket knife to eat with, but Owen stopped him. He pulled out the provided cutlery.��“Here, darling. We can eat like civilized people”

“Right.” Curt flushed again. 

“You’re adorable when you’re all worked up.” Owen chuckled. 

“You’re a bully, you know that?” Curt grumbled, getting up and walking over to their in-room television. They were lucky. Not many hotels had them, but... this one did. Their superiors didn’t mind splurging a little on their accomodations, because it usually meant they were better rested for their job. 

“I’m not a bully...” Owen chuckled, his heartrate picking up again at even the thought of what he was about to watch. “I’m just a tease, doll.”

“So you admit it?” Curt smirked triumphantly, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the channel. 

“Only this once.” Owen rolled his eyes playfully. 

“I think I... there we go!” Curt beamed as the television crackled onto the right station. The scoring to a typical horror movie started. Owen gulped, already not liking this. Curt seemed to pick up on that. “You okay?”

“Absolutely fine.” Owen lied. Curt sighed, coming back and sitting down. 

Both men sat in silence, eating and watching the movie. Owen tried to focus on his food, blocking out the movie and his surroundings. But... that was unfortunately very hard to do. Especially when Curt was so invested. The man was leaning as far forward onto his knees as he possibly could. He thought Curt might have said something about Owen being right about the fish and chips, but Owen didn’t really hear it. He was caught in his head, in a way. And in many other ways, he was totally and uterly absorbed in the movie, trapped without consent the the saga being recounted on the screen. He didn’t even notice when he finished his food, caught up in everything. 

And then... then came the moment Owen was dreading. The one that had his palms sweating and his body tense the entire night. Even with all that awful anticipation it caught him completely by surprise. Just as it was meant to. For some people, that was the thrill of the game. To him, it wasn’t. To him, it was not just truly terrifying, but also... humiliating. Totally and utterly humiliating. Especially in front of his Curt. Curt, who thought he was this suave, impenetrable rock. Curt, whom he was the foundation. Curt got to watch him cower like a child. The moment of dread was, of course, the first jumpscare. And just as Owen had predicted, he had jumped right out of his seat, yelping. Curt saw him and... he started to laugh. 

The world caved in for Owen. It was a mix of the genuine fear he’d experienced watching the movie, the fears that fear alone had resurface, and the humiliation. He felt in a way that he was disappointing Curt already. And the laughing... it rang in his ears even once Curt had finished. Because this time Curt wasn’t laughing with him- he was laughing at him. He tried to mask it, but he was far too caught up in his head to have any control over what his face did. He shook a little bit. He couldn’t even fear anything around him. He had tunnel vision, and everything sounded like it was underwater. Owen hated it. He knew then and there that trying to be tough had not been the right move. That he should have said no to Curt. But it was far too late for that realization to be any good. 

At first, Curt had admittedly thought it was funny that Mr. Tough Guy Owen Carvour himself had fallen victim to the classic jumpscare. And he would be the first to admit he had laughed a long time- especially when he thought that for once he had been the one to fluster Owen and not the other way around. But then, when Owen neglected to come back with any snide remarks... When he didn’t tell Curt to shut up, or even chuckle along with him... That was when Curt knew that now was not the time to be laughing. That something was genuinely wrong. That was when he finally took the time to notice that his lover was shaking, and the fear that had been in his eyes when he jumped had not vanished- even though the protegonists were safe. Curt took Owen’s hand’s carefully. Owen twitched in what could be a flinch, but put up no fight. That was the final tip-off for Curt that sommething was very wrong. He got in front of Owen carefully. 

“Hey... Hey, Owen. You’re okay.” Curt soothed. Owen seemed to snap a bit out of it- enough to see Curt in front of him and look him in the eyes. Curt suppressed his concern and put on a comforting smile for Owen. “That’s right, babe. Look at me. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

There was a moment of Owen just staring into Curt’s eyes and reminding himself that Curt had his back. That he was safe. Once he had calmed enough to speak, he took a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Owen mumbled. 

“No... no, don’t be sorry!” Curt shook his head, giving Owen’s hands a squeeze. Immediately as thought that had awakened something in him, Owen was squeezing back as if it were the only thing keeping him on the ground. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do.” Owen spat, almost as though the words were poison. Self hatred oozed from his tone. “I’ve been lying to you. I’m a coward.”

“You are not a coward...” Curt stated firmly. 

“I bloody well near shit my pants at something I saw on the telly!” Owen pointed out, incredulous. “Something imaginary, on the other side of the screen where it could never harm me.”

“That’s what these movies are made to do, O.” Curt assured him. 

“They’re meant to give people a quick fright.” Owen shook his head. “But... that terrified me. Genuinely scared me.”

“Well... we’ve got pasts.” Curt bit his lip. “We’ve seen stuff. We’ve been the victims of real jumpscares where we could have died. Maybe it reminds you of those. Maybe the lines blurred.”

“Curt, it wasn’t anything we’ve been through that scared me.” Owen softened, nearly whimpering, both scared and embarassed but also pleasing for Curt to listen. “It was that that creature was going to show up behind us and do the same, or... take you away. That poorly dressed, hokey monster that could not be any further from being real. I’m not just a coward. I’m a bloody idiot.”

“You’re not a coward, Owen. And you’re not an idiot. Everyone’s brain is built a bit differently.” Curt soothed him. “You want to protect me... just like I want to protect you.”

“From something that could never hurt us either way.” Owen pointed out. 

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter to the mind.” Curt sighed. “I don’t know if this happens to you when you read all your books, but sometimes someone will tell me a story and I get so invested in it that I’ll feel like I’ve lived through it myself.”

“I know what you mean...” Owen nodded. 

“Well... maybe this movie did the same thing for you.” Curt reasoned. 

“I... suppose.” Owen blinked, realizing Curt made a lot of sense.

“Just like you feel things when you read... you’re feeling things watching this.” Curt sighed.

“Right...” Owen nodded, letting that sink in. 

“You think you can take a few breaths with me, O?” Curt soothed. Owen nodded, following Curt through a few deep breaths until he had stopped shaking and his grip on Curt’s hands had lightened. Once Curt was satisfied, he got up and changed the channel. I Love Lucy was on. He smirked, sitting back down on the couch. For once, he was the one pulling Owen close to cuddle. “We’re going to watch this channel for the rest of the night, okay? I think it’s got some of the good family shows on it.”

“Are you sure?” Owen checked. “I can go lay down. I know you really wanted to watch this film.”

“Yeah, but... not as much as I want to spend time with my handsome British boyfriend.” Curt teased. 

“I love you.” Owen sighed, resting his head on Curt’s chest. 

“I know.” Curt winked playfully, running a hand through Curt’s hair. “Hey, if you’re ever uncomfortable with what I want to do... just tell me, okay? No judgement.”

“Alright.” Owen nodded. 

And so they spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Eventually they did switch and Owen was back to holding Curt. He found immense comfort in that- and that Curt didn’t judge him. It was lovely to be totally and utterly enamoured with someone. And that was what he was with Curt- what he was certain they both were. He didn’t focus on the telly (though it did give him a few laughs- that Lucy was always getting into trouble). Instead, he focused on Curt’s hands running though his hair, or the little kisses he was being adornerd with. In other words, he chose to focus on how much he was loved. And that put him in an entirely better place. There was, at least, one thing they could take away from the whole fiasco: no more horror movie nights. They had enough horrors in their own life without needing to worry about anything on the tv. 

[katzkinder]

Pomegranate Seeds, Give My Life To Thee

“This is so troublesome I could just die.”

“It’s not that big a deal. I’m immortal, after all.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather kill myself.”

Mahiru hates the way his Servamp talks.

There were a number of things Mahiru disliked about Kuro.

Getting oil on the controllers, leaving crumbs and empty chip bags behind, forgetting to take stuff out of his pockets before chucking his dirty laundry into the bin, not managing to make the dirty laundry get to the bin at all, and most annoying was certainly Kuro’s habit of snacking just before meal times.

But these were all small things. Minor things. Things that Kuro had, he had to admit, improved upon since they had begun living together. The sort of things you’d expect from someone who had essentially lived for who knows how long as a bachelor (he thinks? He’s still honestly not sure on just what kind of relationship Kuro and Gear had had in the past. Thinking too hard on it made his heart twist) and then however many decades as a homeless bum. And he was proud of him! Of course he was.

These were things he could overlook. Easily help Kuro improve on. Nag him into submission about, though the housewife and “yes mommy” jokes were getting stale. But there were some things, some habits, some phrases… He just couldn’t stand. And it ate at him.

“This is so troublesome I could just die.”  

“It’s not that big a deal. I’m immortal, after all.”  

“Thanks, but I’d rather kill myself.”  

“Who cares? I’m immortal.”

“I do.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and Kuro blinked up at him, lackadaisical in even his surprise at how… Firmly it had come out. The bag of chips, once full of empty calories and now empty itself thanks to the Servamp’s habitual snacking, crinkled noisily in the still air. The burgeoning argument over Kuro’s dietary habits had come to a halt before it even really started, yet somehow Mahiru felt as if it would have been better, simpler to just let it play out like usual.

Mahiru couldn’t find it in him to care. Not when all these bubbling, festering, unpleasant feelings were reaching a boiling point over such a tiny phrase.

He swallowed, Kuro’s eyes flicking down momentarily to track the motion in his throat, then back to his eyes, and Mahiru felt another pang, along with another stroke of anger that quickly cooled to simmering annoyance.

“You’re starving yourself again, aren’t you?”

Kuro broke their impromptu staring contest at the accusation, gaze drifting somewhere else, anywhere else in the tiny apartment living room as he literally turned his back on his Eve, returning to the safe, artificial light and colorful world of his handheld.

“I was literally just eating chips,” he mumbled, all the petulance of a child who knows they are guilty in his drawled words. He scooched the empty bag closer to himself, posture practically screaming that he wanted Mahiru to let it alone, let the sleeping lion lie.

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“... Why does it matter? It’s not like there’s any danger here. I’m fine. I’m-”

“Yes! I get it! You’re immortal! But... that’s not the problem!”

He was also not very fond of the way Kuro never wanted to address anything until things were nearly as a breaking point.

The heat in his chest was back, along with a bit of bitter satisfaction at the way his outburst had made Kuro turn to really look at him. But then his partner was standing, and the look on his face was so full of concern, gingerly taking the laundry basket from Mahiru’s hands and setting it aside so that they could stand face to face and Mahiru resisted the urge to bow his head in shame. The vampire caught his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it in a way that worried Mahiru.

A gentle thumb just below it made Kuro freeze, sanguine eyes widening ever so slightly when Mahiru carefully pulled it free, voice uncharacteristically gentle for his scolding.

“Stop that. You’ll make yourself bleed.”

“... Sorry. Didn’t even realize I was doing it…”

“That seems to be a running theme with you.” Mahiru winced ever so slightly at the harsher than he’d meant wording, but Kuro didn’t seem to mind. Or, at the least, was too concerned with other matters to mind at the moment.

“Mahi…” Kuro’s voice had taken on that softer, more raspy quality that Mahiru recognized as sincerity, and coupled with the nickname, he couldn’t help but soften just a bit more himself. “I…” Another pause, Kuro moving to take his lip between his teeth again but managing to stop himself. His fingers twitched ever so slightly, and Mahiru reached for it, carefully interlocking their hands. “What is the problem, then? This… Isn’t just about the blood, is it?”

Biting down a snarky comment, Mahiru replied, “No, it’s not,” gripping the larger hand in his own more securely, knowing far too well that Kuro was liable to bolt. He’d been getting better about that, too, but his issues with taking blood were particularly touchy for him, he’d found. He hoped that, one day, the other would be able to be candid about it with him. To tell him the why and the how. Until then, though... It was better safe than sorry. “But if you keep it up I’ll start hiding it in your food like a cat who won’t take his pills.”     Kuro snorted, relief making his shoulders sag and stiff posture unwind. If Mahiru was joking, it wasn’t that serious. He hoped. “So? What gives. Talk to me. It’s not like you to just… Suddenly explode like that.”

It was Mahiru’s turn to look guilty, staring at their joined hands and Kuro’s pale, almost translucent skin. There was the faintest scar on the webbing of his thumb, and his nails were getting long again. He’d have to trim them for him soon. The vampire, he’d found, was prone to either chewing them down to the quick or clipping them too short. It was simpler to do it for him, and had become part of the routine of their lives. He didn’t mind it. Enjoyed it, even, if only for the excuse it gave him to hold Kuro’s hand, admire his long, elegant fingers and the difference between them and his own sun kissed ones smattered with freckles.

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t even know where to start?”

A finger at his chin, lifting his gaze back to Kuro’s, red, red eyes focused on him and so, so worried.

Why can’t you worry about yourself like that?  

“Keep it simple, then.”

Having his own life motto parroted back to him, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. Of course. Simple was best. And simply thinking… He just needed to say what he felt.

“Earlier, what you said…" he began, words slowly picking up steam as he found his voice again, found his thoughts again, "About how you don’t really care, because you’re immortal? It kinda... Pissed me off.”

A stunned look, Kuro once again blinking owlishly at him, no doubt thrown for a loop by the rare swear dropping from the Eve's lips. “O… kay? I won’t… Say it anymore?”

Still missing the point, huh?  

How did he ever end up with such a dumbass vampire?

Mahiru extricated his hand, instead cupping Kuro’s face, ensuring that the vampire of Sloth had no choice but to look him in the eye as he spoke. “Just because you’re immortal, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself. In fact, when you don’t, it… It hurts! It hurts a lot. Because you’re important to me. Because I care about you. And I hate seeing you suffer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh." The words were coming faster now, louder, more desperate, as if this were somehow his only chance to get them all out and he couldn't stop himself if he tried. Didn't want to, because holding it in was so much more painful. "And not just that, either! When you say things like you want to kill yourself, or that you want to die, or that it’s fine that you got hurt… I hate those too! I really, really, hate it...”

His voice cracked on the last word, embarrassingly so, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care at all, not when Kuro had a dawning look of realization, not when halting hands were reaching for him as the Servamp’s face twisted with contrite, not when he really, really wanted the hug that was being sort of half offered to him. He stepped forward, let Kuro embrace him, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs and all that awfulness he had been hoarding with it. He really... Wasn't okay at all, was he?

 “It scares me… And I’m sorry I got mad at you-”

 “I’m sorry, too. For not… Noticing that it bothered you so much.”

 “... I mean. I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m… Kind of really good at hiding when something is bugging me. To be honest…” He snuggled closer into Kuro’s chest, shut his eyes and breathed deep, that mixture of misty mornings and his body wash because of course Kuro was too lazy to pick out his own, all layered over the subtle metallic tang that seemed to cling to every vampire he met. It was soothing. It felt like home, and safety, the same but different as his uncle. Like everything would be okay, if only he just stayed right where he was. “I don’t think I even realized how badly it bothered me myself until just now…”

Kuro hummed, Mahiru feeling the vibrations under his ear and against his cheek. “That seems to be a running theme with you.”

“Ass.” A light thwack to his shoulder, Kuro releasing a little puff of amusement.

“My bad. Couldn’t resist. We’re both… Pretty similar, huh…?”

“I guess so. Who would have thought?”

A pat or two to his back and Kuro drew away, Mahiru reluctantly letting him go. “I’ll clean up my mess, and, um, once I’m done…” The human blinked, head tilting curiously when Kuro cleared his throat, scratched at his cheek. It could sorely use some color. “Maybe we can figure out an, uh… Feeding schedule? Or something?” He gave a helpless sort of half shrug, quickly dropping it when all he got in return was a blank stare. “Sorry, forget it, dumb idea, just thought it would, like, help or something. I dunno-”

 “No!” Kuro jumped at his shout, his anxious rambling cutting off and replaced instead with anxious finger fidgeting, clenching and unclenching his hands while Mahiru rapidly moved to reassure him. “No, feeding schedule is great! In fact, let me get a marker for the calendar and my phone while you do that.”

It was a small thing. A minor thing. Something that shouldn’t even be a problem to begin with. But it was a step towards getting Kuro to take proper care of himself. To value himself. Even if he was only suggesting it to comfort his Eve…

Mahiru tried and failed to hold down the amused little smile sprouting when he sighted the red at the tips of Kuro’s ears, quickly padding out the living room and leaving Kuro to his task, and the dirty laundry in its basket in the middle of the otherwise clear space.

No matter what the reason, it was a step in the right direction. For the both of them.

[missmungoe]

I would sell my soul to Satan for a corn chip– or a tiny snippet of Moon and Her Maiden's chapter 3 (if you would, pretty please I'm obsessed with Shanks and his crush Makino and his other crush Makino's fey alter ego).

Haha, no need for such drastic measures!! But this made me so stupidly happy to hear, since I’m currently editing this beast of a chapter, have a little more than a corn chip!

(the story so far)

The galley was abandoned, but it was late for anyone to be up, and she was familiar with their routines now, having learned who were likely to stay up, and the early birds who’d be the first through her doors in the morning, after their captain.

She’d never been inside, but didn’t linger to take it in, noting only briefly the long tables and the stove, and the drying herbs hanging from the beams. Large wooden kegs were stacked and tied securely along the bulkheads, bearing the brands of breweries from every corner of the world, the galley asleep, but ready for a party to weather any storm that might greet them at sea, but then knowing them as she did now, Makino wasn’t surprised.

She’d nearly crossed the whole galley when the flare of a lighter caught her clean off guard, and her heart lurched into her throat as a darkened figure materialised by one of the tables, having been sitting so still, she hadn’t even sensed his presence, but she recognised him instantly, his hair as dark as the shadows as Ben put his newly-lit cigarette to his lips.

“It’s late for you to be awake,” he said mildly, as he took a drag. “You get up even earlier than I do.”

Understanding was slow in hitting her, before she realised with a start how she appeared, stark naked in the galley of their ship, and she scrambled to pull her pelt around her. It wasn’t big enough to hide her, and she kept her arms in front of her chest, even as the rest of her was left exposed.

But his eyes didn’t travel, only held hers calmly. And as his words registered, so did the fact that there was no surprise on his face, even seeing her as she was, wearing nothing but her sealskin, and the terror that surged through her left her voice shaking as Makino said, “You knew.”

Ben said nothing, but then it hadn’t been a question.

She shifted her weight nervously, acutely aware of her nakedness, and where she was, her eyes darting to the closed door where it led to the deck. If she bolted, she might reach the water in time, but even supposing she got away before he grabbed her, what would she do? Hide until they left for good?

And if he reached her before she could get away, and she’d be trapped on their ship―

The old fear had resurfaced from where she’d forgotten it, the weeks she’d spent getting to know them, and their captain, dragged up from her depths with her mother’s voice, faced with the complete and utter recklessness of what she’d done, putting herself in danger like this.

But Ben did nothing, although there was a slight softening in his eyes then, and she knew her face had given her away, and that there was no way for her to even pretend she wasn’t terrified.

And while it wasn’t the triumph she’d feared, should any of them discover her secret, or something much darker that she’d heard even kind men weren’t immune to, it allowed her terror to subside enough that her first instinct wasn’t to flee.

For a tense beat, neither of them spoke. He was seated against the bulkhead, two tables between them, and made no move to get up to approach her. The only light within the galley was the faint red glow of his cigarette, and the moon where it crept through the portholes. It brought out the pattern on her skin, and if her pelt hadn’t been evidence enough, there was no denying what she was now, awash in moonlight.

“How long?” Makino asked him. Her hands shook where they gripped her pelt at her front, still uncomfortably aware of her vulnerable position.

Ben’s expression surrendered no more than it ever did. “Figured it out not long after we came here.”

Her mouth parted with her surprise, but Makino didn’t know how to respond to that information. Had it been a recent discovery, that was one thing, but he’d known this whole time?

The sudden thought found her, that more of them must know, but before she could ask, “They don’t suspect anything,” Ben said, although she heard what he was really saying, which wasn’t referring to his crew as much as his captain. “But you should be more careful. All it takes is one person catching you.”

The gentle reprimand was accompanied by a raised brow, as though to indicate himself, even as she couldn’t tell if the warning note in his voice was because of her recklessness, given where he’d caught her, or because of her deception.

She wanted to ask how he’d found out, if it was something she’d done or if he’d simply put the pieces together, but held her tongue.

Ben’s look was measured, although his eyes never strayed from her face. But then that was the most incriminating part of her, Makino knew, although didn’t think that was why he was studiously not looking anywhere else.

“Are you going to tell him?” Ben asked her then.

She folded her lips. But while it hadn’t been asked accusingly, she didn’t know what else lay in that question. He was difficult to read, and the level cadence of his voice betrayed no more than his face did. His song was the same, steadier than the others in its calm, even metre, never swayed by the desires so openly expressed by his peers. Only occasionally did it yield a thrill, the beat ever-steady but the tempo lifted to an almost breathless pace, watching as he observed his crew, a new bet in the making, or a game of cards. A love of high stakes, regardless of the rewards; a love of the stakes themselves, and a puzzle to figure out.

And so maybe it wasn’t so strange that he’d kept her secret, if he believed this a game worth betting on, even if her gut twisted at the thought that his captain should think it was all a game to her, when she was risking everything.

“I don’t know,” Makino said, honestly. “I don’t want to lie to him, but it’s just…simpler, this way.”

She wondered how she could explain it so he would understand―that being with him in her other form was liberating, even if she couldn’t be herself, at least not fully. That it was safe; that it made her feel in control, when she could never hide her reactions otherwise.

And the simplest truth, although perhaps also the most selfish: that she just wanted so badly to be desired by him.

But whatever his personal thoughts on her reasons, she didn’t think Ben believed she had any ill intentions towards his captain. If he had, he would have voiced his concerns earlier, or outed her, even as that felt like an unfair accusation, watching him now, having known for so long without telling anyone, not even Shanks.

And she didn’t know what that meant. Ben had no loyalty to her, and she couldn’t think of many who’d just keep that kind of secret. Humans were terrible secret-keepers. Pride always weakened their resolve, that already fragile membrane on their conscience broken by their need to be seen, and admired. There was a reason her kind concealed their realms with charms and contracts, binding unwitting humans with unspoken clauses and ambiguous phrasings. And even then there were those who found loopholes; who were dangerous for an entirely different reason.

This was such a man, and Makino had known since their first meeting.

“Ben―” she began, but didn’t know what she even meant to say. It felt wrong to ask him to help her continue to deceive his captain, but just the thought of Shanks finding out through someone else filled her with such a crippling fear, she couldn’t even put into words.

Ben didn’t say her secret was safe with him, but then he didn’t strike her as the kind of man to offer an excess of assurances. But she felt it, regardless―that surety, expressed most vividly when he nodded towards the door and said, “Go left. It’s the door at the end of the passage.”

Her breath rushed out, and Makino didn’t know what to call the feeling that flooded her, struck by the explicit demonstration of trust. It was more than just relief and gratitude, but she was glad of her honest face then, because even if she couldn’t find the words, she wanted him to know what it meant.

“Thank you, Ben.”

She was about to go when, “You shouldn’t be worried,” Ben said, stopping her, before he explained, “About telling him.” Then, the corner of his mouth jutting, lifting his cigarette, “I’d ask to be present when you do, because I want to see the look on his face, but that’s up to you.”

Her smile fleeted over her lips, a little trembling. And it might have been reassuring to hear it said like that―that it would be something they could all laugh about, and she knew his captain well enough now to know he wasn’t someone who took things personally, and who was more likely to laugh at himself than at others.

But it wasn’t that she thought he’d be angry, or anything so primitive, although she didn’t tell Ben that it wasn’t his reaction she feared but what came after.

Turning to go, she didn’t question what gave her the courage, but then had it been anyone else telling her they knew her secret, she wouldn’t have felt like this, Makino knew. But even if she should be worried, the certainty within her refused to budge; the knowledge that he wouldn’t do anything with the information, beyond keeping it.

Trust, and it was curious to feel it so strongly, having been warned her whole life against giving it too freely, and yet it was the only thing that could have made her turn her back to him now, and to walk further into the ship, away from the water, and safety.

Her heart was racing, an almost painful pace, but she didn’t look back, slipping between the shadows as the door shut behind her. Ben let her go.

The passage beyond the galley forked, the right towards a hatch and a ladder leading belowdecks and the left towards the captain’s quarters, but even without his directions she would have known where to go, his presence always at her fingertips, and she knew he was asleep even before she’d reached the door.

She hesitated, her fingers trembling around the handle, and even knowing there was no one else in the passage, Makino did a last check before letting herself inside.

The captain’s quarters greeted her, quiet and dark. And while she’d seen the galley before, the night she’d first come aboard, she’d never been inside his cabin, and didn’t know what she’d expected, but found no surprise as she took it in, the shadows swept by thick brushstrokes of moonlight where it spilled generously through the glass panes wrapping around the compartment. The windows had little diamond-shaped muntins, the tinted glass casting patterns on the planks, like the scales of a mermaid’s tail.

It was spacious, as befitting the captain of the ship, lined with dark wooden boards that looked recently cleaned and oiled. It had built-in shelves stacked with ledgers and rolls of parchment, and a large desk held pride of place in the middle, laden heavily with maps. A comfy-looking armchair sat near the stove in the far corner, one of his cloaks thrown across the back.

His bunk sat off to her right, a sturdy frame around it where it had been built into the ship, and her eyes went immediately to the big figure sprawled across the mattress.

He was also very visibly not wearing a single stitch.

A scalding flush flooded her skin, as her eyes shot to the ceiling in surprise, although they didn’t remain there very long before she lowered them back down, a deeper warmth filling her that left her suddenly flustered, somehow more unprepared for this than she’d been to find Ben in the galley. And it shouldn’t be such a shock when she’d already seen him naked on several occasions, but this felt intimate for a different reason, observing him now in his private quarters―in his bunk, which held an entirely different implication than watching him strip down for a swim.

And just like every time before, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the powerful frame where it lay, half-wrapped in the rumpled sheets, white against his darker skin and the hair climbing up his chest. He looked to have thrown them off in his sleep, and on his back, he hid absolutely nothing, his nakedness brandished so cheerfully, she might have believed he’d arranged himself like that on purpose.

She’d never seen anyone sleep like that, so―provocatively, for a stunned beat all she could do was stare like an idiot.

She felt a moment of panic, as though the sight of him naked in his bunk had really driven home just where she was and what she was doing. And she didn’t know what she’d even planned, coming here, but then she hadn’t had a plan, except to see him, not as she did every day at the bar but as her other self could. She’d wanted the freedom it gave her―that he gave her, to see him, and touch him.

And even if she didn’t know exactly what she’d planned to do, she knew what she wanted, recalling the last time they’d kissed, that night in the cove. The following times they’d met they’d spent talking. He’d made no advances, but then she wondered if he might be waiting for her take the lead this time, which might have been considerate if she had even the slightest idea of how to proceed from here. Because kissing him was one thing, but it was something else she wanted now, and that had kept her awake so many nights, thinking about him.

Makino watched him where he slept, indecisive. And it wasn’t too late for her to leave, to run back to her bed and pretend she’d never been here. Shanks wouldn’t know that she’d chickened out; the only one who would was Ben, but she could live with his amusement.

She tried to gather the unravelling threads of her courage, her eyes leaving Shanks’ sleeping figure in search of something a little safer, and chose the first that presented itself.

Drawn towards his desk, her heart held in her chest, as silent as her bare feet where they carried her across the planks, the stillness of the compartment broken only by the gentle creaking of the ship and Shanks’ snores.

Outlined in the moonlight, the maps showed the oceans of the world, and more islands than she could have thought existed, drawn in breathtaking detail.

Wide-eyed, Makino drank them all in. She found Dawn Island on the topmost map, outlined in green ink; a small blot in the vast East Blue. And she’d always known the world was big, but it was something else to see it in this context, and to realise just how small her little corner of the sea was, or at least how it must feel to someone like him, who’d seen so much.

The cartographer had embellished them with illustrations, the borders of the maps showing landmarks and creatures that defied even her imagination. The kings of the ocean; the lords of the coastlines and bottomless depths, each one greater than the next.

Her brows knitted gently as her eyes were drawn to a tiny figure, pictured along the borders of West Blue, and touching her fingertips to the illustration, her breath caught softly as she traced the familiar lines of a small, round shape, the little creature gentle and unassuming amidst the terrifying kings in their colourful scales and trappings, the speckled white spots in its pelt glimmering in the moonlight.

She was so absorbed in the maps, she didn’t notice that it had gone suddenly quiet.

And that Shanks had stopped snoring.

The cool edge of a blade touching her throat had her eyes flying open, although it was his voice that seized her breath in her chest.

“Trespassing?”

[ddarker-dreams]

Trips. Yan Illumi x Reader [COMM]

Life brings with it new situations, impeding obstacles that need to be overcome. 

Flexibility is the trait that allows such things to be navigated properly, to accept and work with the cards that you’ve been dealt. Unfortunately for you, this character trait has always seemed to be one of your greatest fallacies. 

Why this incontestable fact wasn’t enough to deter Illumi, you would never know for certain. Determined is the word you found to fit his likeness the best. Illumi sought out on the long and cumbersome journey of sculpting you into his ideal masterpiece, chipping away at elements unfitting of his taste; while emphasizing any desirable traits. 

Dehumanizing as it is, it’s your new reality. One that you never expected to be a chapter in the book of your life, if not the falling action and conclusion now all together. But, as inflexible as you are at times, you can still attempt to make the most of it in your own way.

Having already offered any serious forms of opposition, you quickly learned the petty endeavors would ultimately be pointless. Illumi never so much as blinked at any of your trite attempts at upsetting him, not taking the offenses as seriously as you hoped. Maybe that was for the best, as he’d still reprimand you despite seeming unaffected. 

“Aina,” you invite over in a low tone. “Can you come here for a moment?” 

There isn’t any reason to voice your desires in a polite manner, seeing as the Zoldyck butlers would carry out your every reasonable whim without complaint. Even if they held the key to freeing you from this grandiose prison, you still couldn’t find it within yourself to harbor any serious resentment against them. 

Even if they did come to their senses, and ever tried to assist you, you didn’t want to imagine what the consequences would be for such an offense.

“Do you need something, Master [First]?” 

Aina appears next to you faster than the human eye could comprehend, her serious gaze set wholly upon you. Aina was who Illumi assigned to be your personal butler during your first few days here, someone who has become a familiar face. You had asked her before for her age, only to learn she was only a year older than you. 

Illumi most likely picked her out for that very reason, wanting to “ease” the transition into your new life. 

Aina sports a well cared for bob, having light brunette hair and honey colored eyes. It seems you fell right into Illumi’s trap, feeling a kindling of friendship with her. Even if it wasn’t formed in a natural way, a friend is a friend. 

Leaning back in the garden chair, a soft noise leaves your lips as you stretch your stiff muscles. The relaxing sounds of nature always felt like a welcome change of pace. You’ve always expressed your preference for the gardens in the Zoldyck estate, preferring them greatly over the Gothic style mansion. 

The air out here feels lighter, the sun inviting as it gently kisses your skin. Different cries from exotic creatures you couldn’t even begin to name fill your ears, along with the sounds of running water from the fountains. 

Aina waits by your side ever so patiently, while your mind is full of these thoughts.

Sheepishly looking up at her through your eyelashes, you smile. “I have a bit of a request, actually.” 

She’s capable of picking up on every nuance to your words, of reading all the twitches of your muscles and knowing what emotions they indicate. In a way, it almost reminds you of Illumi. But whereas Illumi would exploit this telling information for his own gain, Aina uses it only to serve you better.

“If by chance I’m asking for too much, just let me know,” you request, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. At this you notice her jawline tightening, most likely anticipating the worst. “It’s been on my mind to get some new decorations to spruce up my room. Not to say I dislike the whole, vampires living in the 1800s look, but it’s a tad dreary.” 

Aina’s lips quirk up, before she swiftly changes to a neutral look once more. 

“Since I can’t really use the internet, it’s not like I can do online shopping. And I’d feel bad for someone having to deliver it on a mountain too. So how do I go about this? Is there like a special Zoldyck amazon that I can use, but no one has told me about yet?” 

At any hints of humanity Aina offers, you find it easier to talk without holding yourself back. Being all doom and gloom nonstop is tiring after all, sometimes you just have to roll with the punches. Even if that phrase most likely is not intended for being forced into marriage with an assassin, it could still apply here, right? 

“If I’m being honest with you, I’m not entirely sure,” Aina places a tentative hand to her chin, eyes narrowing in deep thought. “I’d need to contact Master Illumi for his instructions. Do you want me to do so now?” 

At the mention of your husband’s name, you frown. Even if you were expecting your request to be run through multiple channels for permission to be granted, it doesn’t soothe the sting any less. Most things in your life, if not everything, are controlled entirely by Illumi. 

Puffing your cheeks out in mild annoyance, you can’t help but sigh dejectedly. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I don’t have much of a choice if I want to get my pink sheets…” 

Aina doesn’t so much as flinch at your thinly veiled sarcasm, instantly getting herself to work with the matter at hand. You find yourself watching her carefully as Aina reaches for the black phone in her pocket. If you remember correctly, Aina had informed you that Illumi is on his way back from a job that had him absent a week. 

Seeing as he must be in transit, you assume Aina has the green light to contact him whenever necessary without the concern of impeding on his work. 

With the press of a button, you hear a low dialing tone come from her phone. One ring later you hear him pick up, Aina’s posture straightening even more than it was before out of respect. Tilting your head at the half heard exchange before you, you’re unable to determine much from Aina’s stoic facade.

Eventually, she pulls the phone away from her head. Before you get the opportunity to ask if you’re in the clear, she holds the phone out in your direction. 

“Master Illumi wishes to speak with you.” 

At this instruction, you swallow thickly. Speaking to Illumi is always a tricky battle, his words blunt yet crafted all the same. Aina subtly nudges the phone forward once more, prompting you to gingerly pick it up. Placing it against your ear, you bite your lip before finally speaking. Not wanting to give off the impression of being frightened, you put your all into sounding casual.

“So uh, what’s up?” you inquire to him, looking down at your tea cup. By now it’s undoubtedly cold, the amber colored liquid held in a fine china worth more than you could imagine. The desire to fiddle with your hands overwhelms you, so you reach for the handle. 

At your voice, Illumi responds immediately in his signature deadpan. “Aina mentioned you wanted to go shopping.” 

‘Is this… newsworthy or something?’

“Yeah, I thought it could be a nice change of pace,” you let out an airy laugh, your grip on the handle growing tighter. Even when Illumi isn’t face to face with you, you still can’t help but feel nervous. “It’d make me happy. But I understand if it’s too unreasonable.” 

You sit awaiting a response, hearing nothing but the propellers of the blimp Illumi must be travelling on. Does that mean he’s considering it? There’s always a chance he has already made up his mind, but wants to give the impression of taking your feelings into account. It’s a creepy tick you noticed he has, trying to act more human for your sake. 

“Alright. We’ll go when I get back this evening,” Illumi eventually concludes, much to your surprise. “You can hand the phone back to Aina now.” 

Nodding your head despite him not being able to see you, you give the dark phone back to Aina who stands in waiting. She takes it before confirming a few more minor details, and then ultimately ending the phone call. It’s strange, you believe, that such a mild request requires so many moving parts. Whether it be Illumi’s suffocatingly protective nature over you, or the cost of being a Zoldyck, you’re unsure. 

Aina busies herself with contacting other butlers at your behest, most likely planning out in great length how everything will work. If it weren’t for being held here against your will, you might even feel bad for all the effort they’re putting in for your sake. But even if it’s a small one, this is a victory nonetheless! 

Having been with Illumi for over a year now, you quickly picked up on what you should and shouldn’t do. Even when you’re upset with him, which you can’t help but be a majority of the time; it’s in your best interest to not show it. A few snarky quips here and there don’t do much damage, but anything other than that can place you in boiling hot water.

Illumi had expressed to you in the past a similar sentiment. That once you adjust to your new life, things will flow a lot smoother for you. Now the fruits of your labor are starting to show, you believe. If he’s placing enough trust in you to do this, then maybe, just maybe; you can have even more freedoms over time.

Once Aina looks to be free for a moment, you begin to speak to her again.

“You know, in the past when I wanted to go shopping I’d just get in my car, and head to the mall.” you recall over to her, wistfully sighing for extra effect. Aina never seems bothered by your musings, always indulging you without a hint of irritation.

“I’m sure things were simpler then. But now that you’re a Zoldyck, there are a lot of extra factors to account for,” Aina points out with a soft smile of her own. Whether it’s genuine or not, you’re unsure. “Master Illumi does the utmost to ensure your safety.” 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t wrapped me up in bubble wrap yet,” you snicker at the thought, before your eyes widen in realization. “Wait, I shouldn’t give him any ideas…” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I doubt he’d do that.” 

‘For some reason, that doesn’t make me feel much better.’

Shaking your head, you decide to curve the conversation away from your overprotective husband. “What time are we heading out? I have to wear my finest threads and all, since I’m representing the family.” 

Pulling the cuff of her suit back, she looks down at her watch.

“Four hours, give or take. You still have some time.” Aina responds in haste, before covering her watch yet again. 

Owlishly, you stare at her, finding her every move to be of interest. It further cements the feeling that you don’t fit in with this estate, despite Illumi’s attempts. The grace the family members have, and even their servants have, is still far from your grasp.

That still doesn’t stop him from trying though.

“In that case, I’ll return to my previous philosophical musings.” you respond while stroking your chin, stifling another laugh. If there’s anything that can bring you comfort in this foreign place, it’s your own stupid words. 

Why you caught the interest of Illumi Zoldyck is still one of the world’s wonders, not to say you don’t have your own theories. Some ranging from being cursed as a baby, to having done something in your past life to deserve this. 

‘How does the saying go again? Opposites attract, or something. Illumi is probably the opposite of me in every conceivable way, after all.’

“Would you like me to brew you some fresh tea?” Aina asks you, having taken notice of your cold beverage. You purse your lips, knowing that trying to understand Illumi is a lost cause.

“Yes please.” 

---

When you used to watch events where celebrities would gather, one of the coolest aspects to you were the cars they’d emerge from. Sports cars, luxury vehicles, limousines. All of them filled you with awe and wonder, a class above what you could ever hope to afford. 

Now you stand here, face to face with a limousine of your own, gaping at the tinted windows and expensive tires. Three vehicles just like it line up behind, most likely your other escorts. 

Aina looks over at you once more, straightening her posture and then subtly motioning to you. It takes a moment for it to click, before realizing that your gawking isn’t as subtle as you thought it was. Following her example with less grace, you walk towards the car door.

Before you can continue to do so, you hear Aina speak up behind you. 

“Do you recall everything I told you earlier?” she inquires, causing you to turn your head back to her. Humming lowly, you remember the myriad of boring guidelines you had to endure earlier. It all felt so dramatic, and if you’re being honest, you zoned out for a majority of it. 

Scrunching up your nose, you place a finger to your cheek. “Don’t go around yelling ‘Help! I’ve been kidnapped!’ or something.” 

Aina pinches her nose, before shaking her head. “Well, you’re not wrong per se…” 

Giving her a cheeky smile, you go to reach for the door handle. But before you get the opportunity, another servant swiftly opens it for you. 

“Please, allow me, Master [First].” 

He opens it with a respectful bow, revealing a black leather interior. Letting out a small “oooh!”, you bite your lip upon noticing the other occupant of the limousine. Waving off the servant’s attempt to assist you into your seat, you hear Aina speak to you once more.

“I’ll be in the car behind you if you need anything.” 

“I’ll yell out the window in that case.” you yell back, undoubtedly earning a reprimanding look from her. Plopping yourself down into your seat, your door is closed before you even get the chance to do it yourself.

“No greeting, huh?” Illumi tilts his head, blank eyes staring at you with an unreadable expression. Fiddling with your seat belt, you finally look over at him in acknowledgement. Managing to hear a click signifying your seat belt is locked in place, you give Illumi your full attention.

“Hey, didn’t see you there.” you greet Illumi who doesn’t so much as blink at your words. 

“You looked at me when getting in,” he points out, any form of humor flying over his head. “Do we need to get your eyes checked?” 

Throwing your hands up in defense, you swiftly shake your head at his offer. “I was just joking, Illumi.” 

“Ah.” 

Illumi’s tone is as flippant as ever, one of his signature trademarks. On the other side of the partition, you hear keys being flipped to turn the car on. With a soft hum, the car gains traction with remarkable ease. On such a rocky terrain, none of it is felt as the luxury vehicle glides across the ground. 

Returning your attention to Illumi, you find him staring at you as well. For a while it gave you a jittery feeling, having those dark voids for eyes thoroughly observing your every move. While it certainly isn’t any less frightening, you suppose that all this time with Illumi has given you a sort of immunity to it. 

“So… how did your job go?” you inquire in a soft voice, hands set in place on your lap. There isn’t much else to talk about, so might as well try your luck with this. Illumi would sit next to you in total silence if he so chose to, not being the type to entertain conversation himself without some kind of agenda. 

“As well as expected,” Illumi responds earnestly, seemingly pleased that you’re taken interest in him. “The target was killed without a hitch.” 

You let out a hesitant laugh. “Oh. That’s uh, that’s good I think...” 

Trailing off your sentence, you find yourself scratching the back of your neck at the topic in progress. The thought of the person next to you having killed someone in the last twenty-four hours is dizzying, so you’re quick to move onto something new.

“So, where exactly are we going?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for the past few hours. The fact you were even leaving Kukuroo mountain in the first place is a surprising one, even your honeymoon took place here. Unless there’s some other Zoldyck owned establishment that happens to double as a mall, your mind is clueless to any possible destinations.

“I made arrangements to empty out a shopping center for a few hours. Aside from employees, that is,” Illumi explains, still not blinking. “Aina went over everything with you, right?” 

‘She did, but it’s not like I was really paying attention.’ 

Clearing your throat, you quickly nod your head to deter any negative repercussions. “Yeah, I remember everything she said.” 

He studies you once more, before leaning back into his seat. You feel a sudden urge to do the same, but find it difficult to ever fully relax when Illumi is present. Among other things, there’s still one damning question you still can’t fully understand. 

Why Illumi is even allowing this in the first place, after all the insane precautions he’s taken to seal you off from the world. Maybe it’s best not to pry into your sudden good fortune? Since curiosity killed the cat, quelling this question will be in your best interest. 

Leaning your head against your fist, your eyebrows furrow. 

“You have more questions.” Illumi points out, alarming you. Of course he notices any change in your behavior, having spent hours studying every aspect about you. In his own words, there’s nothing you can hide from him. At every given opportunity he proves those words to be correct. 

“W-well, yeah,” you admit out at the unexpected heckle. “If I’m being completely honest… I’m just a little taken aback that you’re actually allowing this. I guess.” 

For a moment you wonder if your words were too blunt, as Illumi sits there in rigid silence. 

“Think of it as a reward for your good behavior,” Illumi eventually concludes, lips curling into an unnatural, proud smile. “Even though you weren’t too compliant at first, you never made any escape attempts. I would’ve known had you tried. I was largely expecting the possibility, but you never made any serious offenses.” 

‘I feel like this is how a judge talks to a defendant or something.’

“I suppose that’s true…” you consider, reflecting back to your time here. Although escaping had crossed your mind numerous times, you never had the guts to act on it. The odds were insourmantable against you. What with all the highly trained assassins and butlers running about, you’d have better luck at winning the lottery than pulling a successful escape.

“I’ve always liked outings like this. I would treat myself to a five dollar coffee and then immediately regret it when I got home,” you recall with a snicker. “There’s nothing quite like opening your bank account and wondering, ‘What was I thinking?’ when you’re out of the moment.” 

Illumi nods his head. “That’s true. Your bank account wasn’t in the best shape.” 

“How do you even-- whatever, I probably don’t want to know,” you murmur while rolling your eyes at his lack of tact. “The point being that the most fun part is all the little treats you buy yourself in between the stores. Sometimes I’d get those cups of small pretzel bites, then have to eat them really quick since you can’t bring them in the stores.” 

“Ah! That explains all the small transactions I saw.” Illumi proclaims, eyes lighting up for a moment. 

‘The art of being subtle is all but lost to my husband.’

“Have you ever had pretzel bites, Illumi? For some reason, I get the feeling you haven’t been to the mall that often.” you comment while giving him a once over, taking in his unique fashion that would certainly stand out. How he even goes in public without people badgering him is remarkable. 

“Only once for shadowing on a job.” Illumi answers, piquing your inner curiosity. 

“You were hired to assassinate someone who hung out around a mall? I thought you only went after politicians or important people.” you point out, tilting your head.

“There’s some variety. The client himself was a wealthy individual, who wanted his daughter’s boyfriend killed. She had been dating someone who worked at a clothing store, going against her father’s wishes.” 

Frowning, you lean back into your seat. Some people will do anything for the sake of image, but the thought of doing something that would actively hurt a member of your family doesn’t make any sense to you. But the people that Illumi deal with are in a league of their own, taking part in a world you will never understand.

A somber atmosphere begins to set in, to which you attempt to alleviate with a joke. “Did you trail the guy in one of those mascot suits? Like the ones people give free samples in?” 

For a moment, you swear you saw Illumi’s eyebrows knit together. He’s still getting used to unfiltered comments, even after all this time. You’ve been told your personality is a tad on the eccentric side in the past. It doesn’t help that Illumi is incapable of spotting humor even in others. 

“No. That wouldn’t have been effective.” Illumi plainly states, unimpressed with your guess. 

At his dismissal, you further explain your reasoning. “Think about it! It’s an efficient method. You’d blend right in with the atmosphere around you, and no one would be able to tell that you’re looking at your target because of the mask. I think this is genius, actually. Maybe I should patent it…” 

Illumi purses his lips together at your further insistence. At the very least you know Illumi never tunes you out like most would be inclined to at this point. He soaks in every word, every movement of your lips. 

“That’s certainly something you would say.” he ultimately decides, knowing your carefree nature and comments well. 

‘Is that a good or bad thing? That’s probably a bad thing.’

Not giving too much thought to Illumi’s blunt comment, you content yourself by looking out your window. On the outside it’s impossible to see the interior of the car, but from this angle you’re able to see blurry scenery as it goes by. Having familiarized yourself with most of the Zoldyck estate, this felt like an entirely new world. A welcome one at that.

The temptation to lower the window for fresh air presses against you like a thorn, but you ultimately deny it. Who knows how Illumi would interpret the act, it’s better to not risk it. Instead your eyes go wide at the sights around you, seeing the outside world in what felt like forever. 

You can still feel Illumi’s gaze boring into the back of your head, but you think nothing of it. He watches you enough as is, it’s not worth getting worked up about. Through winding roads, a hint of civilization finally makes itself known. Seeing people not donning the standard Zoldyck tuxedo fills your heart with nostalgia of a time before.

Eventually, the vehicle comes to a stop in an almost empty parking lot. Not wanting to make any wrong moves, you sit patiently for whatever security checks the butlers are most likely performing at the moment. Illumi gets out before you do, the chauffeur eventually coming to open the door for you just a minute later.

Taking in the fresh air, you appreciate the ability to stretch your legs while awaiting further instruction. Aina catches your eye for a brief moment, giving you a reassuring nod before returning her attention to looking at the premises. The butlers continue to speak among themselves, occasionally running a few words by Illumi who returns to your side.

Once everything seems to be in order, you’re prompted to walk towards the entrance. It reminds you of a scene from an apocalyptic movie, seeing how this large mall is almost entirely devoid of human life. It seems Illumi’s comment about only employees being present rings true, as you cheerfully enter into the grandiose mall. 

Looking around at the interior, you come to the realization that this is an extremely high end mall. 

‘So much for my pretzel bite dreams… Maybe they have caviar stands here instead.’

Pausing, you glance over at Illumi to make certain that you’re still in the clear. Not sensing any indication that you’ve done something wrong, you continue on your merry way. It’s an overwhelming selection before you, but you want to treasure this moment for as long as you can.

Anything that catches your eye you indulge, walking into the store while being surrounded by numerous butlers. The employees at the store seem understandably hesitant at your presence, so you make an effort to not disturb them more than necessary. The shops that catch your eye the most are clothing stores.

Eventually, you approach one with a variety of cute outfits. The collection of clothes you currently have is surprisingly tailored to your taste, Illumi most likely having studied that aspect about you. An overall outfit in particular stands out to you, causing you to walk over to it with urgency.

“Illumi! How do you think this would look on me?” you call over to him with a snicker, grabbing the hanger and holding it against your person. Illumi looks at you as if you have three heads, mind undoubtedly wracking to form a husband like answer.

“It would look acceptable.” he eventually responds, to which your shoulders slump. It’s not like your expectations are high, but Illumi’s lack of enthusiasm never fails to shine through. A mischievous thought passes through your mind, grin adorning your face before you can stop it. Placing the outfit back to its previous spot, your eyes roam over the selection.

Spotting a bright pink tuxedo, you pick it up before examining Illumi.

“I think you need a new outfit or two. How about this? It’d really bring out your eyes.” you beam, using all of your strength not to laugh. Illumi looks at the bright, hot pink tuxedo and then looks at you. In your peripheral vision you see Aina place her hand to her forehead. Shouldn’t she also be used to this by now?

“I’ll consider your input.” Illumi reaches for the tuxedo, much to your astonishment. Could it be? Is he actually going to purchase this in an attempt to further win you over? Victory is a fleeting emotion, as he stretches his arms to place the outfit back in record time.

“I don’t think that’s what I’d call considering,” you point out with a frown, Illumi seemingly content with the outfit being out of your hands. “You didn’t even give it a shot. At least try it on.” 

At your additional pressure, Illumi offers a simple response. “I am considering it.’ 

Giving an over dramatic sigh, you nod before busying yourself with the other selections. Adding a few more odds and ends to your bag, it’s paid for by one of the butlers. Most likely to further limit any of your contact with the outside world. You get the feeling that if you even attempt to make conversation with them, they’d be too skittish to say anything in response. It doesn’t help that you have Illumi looming over you. 

Humming to yourself, you move onto the next few stores. It’s impossible to curtail all of your old habits, still checking the price tag before remembering it doesn’t matter anymore. This part of being with Illumi isn’t all that bad, despite its shallowness. Guilt never comes to you, however, as you recall with ease all Illumi has taken from you. 

The sun starts to set in the sky above you, the glass ceiling of the mall further showcasing the bold oranges and reds. All of the recent sunsets you’ve seen have been on Kukuroo Mountain, where you almost felt you could reach out and touch the clouds yourself. Stopping in your tracks, you gape at the nostalgic scene.

‘This is how it used to look like.’ 

The thought of never being able to see the sky from your own residence never occurred to you. Despite the undeniable beauty witnessing a sunset on a mountain brings, it’s too surreal. This is a familiar comfort, one that you’ve experienced your entire life before Illumi entered it.

“There aren’t any shops up there.” Illumi points out, his monotone returning you to reality. Jumping slightly at his sudden speech, you offer a small laugh. In a way, Illumi’s bluntness can be unintentionally humorous. 

“Now that you mention it,” you begin, squinting and looking around. “You’re right. There aren’t any. Strange, I could’ve sworn I saw some.” 

“Maybe you should see an ophthalmologist after all.” 

“I’m still joking, Illumi.” 

“Ah.” 

A butler who you don’t recognize approaches Illumi carefully, whispering a few words into his ear. Illumi looks back towards you, his attention once again yours. Your stomach sinks before he even speaks, capable of guessing what he’s already going to say.

“We’ll be heading back home now,” Illumi states, leaving little room for debate. “Did you get everything you wanted?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, you feel. At this point it’ll be best for you to offer your abundant gratitude, for him having allowed this entire trip to begin with. Giving one more glance to the sky, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at it like this again.

Giving Illumi a bittersweet smile, you nod your head. “Yeah. Everything I wanted.”

[uponrightful]

Hi! I’ve just finished Welcome Company-it was so good, your writing is amazing! I have a question about one of the last scenes if that’s OK? Partly about Pups point of view, because a lot of what happened to her post Order 66 is clearly in her mind, but seems to read differently emotionally later if that makes sense? I’d also like to know why you decided to include the scene of Pup having to fight one last time. -RebelMedic99

“Wolffe! Please!” She sobbed through the pain and fear, whimpering when the kid pulled her own arm around her throat, locking in a chokehold she was unable to break from. He laughed dryly in her ear, yanking on her broken wrist to elicit another scream.

“He’s not coming back you little slut.” He fell into another fit of laughter, “And even if he did you’ll be so used he won’t even want to look at you.” His evil words cut right through her. She was already broken, and yet another piece was about to be taken, and smashed on the floor right in front of her. She felt the pain of his remarks, feeling just as useless as he’d appraised.

She wanted to fight anyways.

The pain in her wrist didn’t subside, but it wasn’t going to stop until she got his filthy hands off her. And without that blaster, she really didn’t have a chance at getting off the ship, or keeping the ship safe until Wolffe got back. She struggled to keep her breath even, fighting to pull her broken wrist out of his grasp so she could get free.

Think fast…

Get him off guard…

“You really want me?” She choked out, wincing from the abrasive words cutting at her tongue. If he was that young, there was a chance he’d fall for it and drop the -hopefully- act long enough for her to grab the upper hand.

“You’re a fucking slut! Already turning towards the closest man you can get in your pants!” He snarled, yanking her wrist again. The girl held back her cry, again repeating the question for him, praying it would make a bigger impact this time.

“I’ll behave. I promise.” She faked convincingly enough through her tears. The kid’s grip faltered just for a second before retaining its unflinching need to inflict pain again. Yet, by miracle, he released her wrist and stepped back with the blaster dropped down at his side. Miraculously, his anger suddenly disappeared, and a look of disbelief came over him.

“Pick me.” He ordered harshly, as she turned to face him.

Everything moved so quickly.

Commentary Track for Welcome Company

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I’ll give my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character’s- when I wrote it!

*send one in here*

This one is challenging, but we'll see if I can explain it without sounding like a complete dumbass... 😅

***

We'll start with addressing her emotional shift towards Order 66 first, and that will help set up the reasoning why she had this "last stand" at the end. (This won't be from her POV, it'll make things a little simpler.)

Pup's true knowledge of what Order 66 is comes in small bits and pieces after she flees Coruscant. It's obvious right away that something changed, but it's not for a really long time that she finds out that there might be something "unwilling" about the whole situation. In this time frame -of a couple years- she's actually left to her own devices and thought-process to make sense of it all. And a couple of years can really take a toll on someone's perception of what is really going on.

There is talk of manipulation, and how 'robotic' the clones are. All of it culminating in a bunch of half-assed theories as to why they suddenly have this unbending will for the Empire when they fought for the Republic for so long. (The bar fight Wolffe was in, is where I tried to explore this a little bit with the Cerean.) But Pup only hears rumors, and those weak excuses aren't enough to dissuade her fear of seeing troopers again. Because ultimatley, there are hundreds of them who'd been to her home, and in her mind, it's possible that they could come after her and punish her for that. It's not a realistic fear, but if you combine it with her last experience with a clone, it's one that would easily create a serious emotional trigger.

I meant for it to be a tad bit confusing when reading her emotions. Pup wants to love the clones -and she still does- but seeing one of them in real life would be fucking terrifying. Their sweet memories are always there, and she does her best to only think of those. However it's easy to be reminded of why she can't still see them, when she's living on a backwater planet to try and reassure herself that she'll never have to risk seeing a clone again. Because all of the love that they'd given her -in her mind- is completely gone the second she's shot by one.

And her entire being is damaged assuming that Wolffe is no different than the rest of them. Pup knows all the clones are acting this way, and Wolffe is really no exception. So even though she loves him dearly it's really scary when she sees him for the first time after all these years. Is he safe? Is there something still wrong with him? Does he want to take her with him, back to the Empire? These are all questions she has, because she's never seen a clone after Order 66 without a functioning chip.

The reason her change of heart is so sudden, is because Pup didn't let go of the good memories she had of her troopers. That integral part of her character is to forgive and be patient -even if she's been damaged by something or someone. Yes, she keeps it bottled up. But that was because she couldn't get rid of her base traits. You can't wholly change your personality very easily, and Pup never really wanted to in the first place. She was just forced to create this harder persona so she could survive. Then after Wolffe comes back, and he's painstakingly careful in trying to prove that he's not under influence any longer, it makes that desire to care for him -like she's always had- come back much smoother.

(It's a continuity error that I never gave a proper scene dedication to it; But I did have a draft that included an Order 66 conversation with Rex and Pup during that scene in Chapter 14.)

I chose not to include it because I wanted someone to focus on Pup's traumas faced during the transition period of planet-hopping. It might sound cruel of me to not include his struggles, but they've been covered so many times in other fics, that I gave the assumption my "Initial Implementation" scene and "Chip Removal Scene" would be emotionally sympathetic and exploratory enough of how Wolffe felt during and after, without needing to express it to you directly. Not to mention, after Pup and Wolffe are reunited, she's not stupid enough to not infer that it was against his will. She quite frequently notes throughout that his guilty looks and hesitancy to make physical contact with her are very noticeable and telling of how he feels about his time with the Empire.

All of this said, now her fight scene:

Right before they leave the cabin, she's feeling a little loss of home. But really, Pup never had too much of an attachment to her house on Takodana in the first place. What's really getting her emotional at this point is the realization that she finally has Wolffe back. It's security she's wanted this whole time, and although the boys aren't letting her help with the bounty, she's willing to do whatever they want because she understands that they've got the experience here. Plus, she's really not physically able to do a whole lot after her slight hypothermia exposure.

I wanted her weak for this: Emotionally, physically, mentally. It had to be that way for a reason.

Until this point, Pup hasn't ever shown a real motivation to fight for anything, other than making the trip to the outpost to save her friend. BUT. That's risking herself to save someone else. Pup has never done anything for her own benefit, without it being equally helpful for someone else. Even when she got Wolf, it wasn't just for herself. Iahcen was getting something out of it as well.

I know it's cliche, but her last moments alone on that ship waiting was where her character development needed to reach and end. Because I made the overarching plot of fighting for love, but I needed that same lesson to be learned in-story, as well to round it out. It had to be Pup, because she's been running this whole time. Wolffe can't learn it, because he's been fighting the entire time.

The kid is a symbol of kindness not being returned. This is key, because Pup has always been nice -even when she didn't need to be. And he attacks her for that. He comes in as the tool to show her that being kind doesn't always work; And sometimes you have to stand against something, instead of running or letting someone run over her. I also made certain to have the kid attack Wolffe's character. This was essential, because Pup has nothing else she wants to fight for. Wolffe has always been her one essential thing, and he was what made her realize that being a little selfish and desiring something isn't a bad thing. This kid is a product of her sympathetic nature, and he's willingly insulting and threatening her chance at having the one thing Pup has always wanted.

Pup needed fight or flight, and the only time her 'fight mode' kicks in, is when she realizes there's something she wants. On Coruscant, she had nothing, so she ran. Pup wanted to live for Wolffe, in the hopes that he might still be alive, and that was the first time her fight response kicked in. Then her friend was in danger of dying, that was the second time she chose to fight.

Her love and security in Wolffe was being threatened, and that was Pup's final character development, and why she needed this fight scene without Wolffe -or anyone else's assistance- in the matter.

***

I hope this wasn't garbage 😅 and I explained it decently... If not, please let me know. I'll do anything I can to answer your questions!

Much Love, Rightful 🤍

[baepop]

PRIVATE // 8

Jennie moves in with you. You and Jungkook have a much needed talk.

Word Count: 6.7k

Pairing: Jungkook x You x Jennie

Genre: Smut, Angst, Some fluff if you squint

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Incessant pacing threatens to take center stage in the middle of your action-packed dream. You were driving a car down a steep hill, slowly losing control of the vehicle yet you weren’t in a panic, you were too focused on trying to find the eject button on the dashboard because, of course, the car was now a space ship.

Pat Pat Pat.

Your eyes crinkle then ease open as the morning light floods them, causing you to sigh and turn into your pillow.

Pat Pat Pat

You push your cotton-blend pillow case against your ear lobes to no avail, you’re already awake.

“Jennie, what the fuck.” You croak out as you try to remember what your dream was even about.

“Oh, sorry.” The anxious girl stops mid-step to regard you warily from the middle of the room. Once you sit up and stretch your arms out, she approaches the bed and places herself at the edge ever so gracefully.

You rub your eyes roughly with your fists then take another look at her. It was strange how both familiar and alien it felt to wake up with her like you used to.

“What time is it?” You yawn and turn your head to avoid the rude sunbeams assaulting your dilated pupils. The blinds were collapsed all the way, letting the entire world see into your bedroom.

“I don’t know, 7 AM… I think. I’m so glad you’re awake. I’m freaking out over here.”

You suddenly remembered the shocking news she delivered to you in person last night. Taking in the sight of her knotty hair, worn finger beds and heavy eyebags, you couldn’t help but have some sympathy for the poor girl.

You placed a firm hand on her shoulder after yawning one more time. “Relax. Being poor isn’t the end of the world. I’ll show you the ropes.” You were hoping your lighthearted remark would calm her down, but it only seemed to scare her more. “...I take it the full weight of the snap decision you made last night is hitting you now?” She nodded at you wordlessly with widened eyes. You sighed and climbed out of the bed, last night’s worries coming to fruition. You dragged your feet to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, then to the kitchen to get started on the coffee, making sure to make it extra strong. Jennie followed on your heels the entire time, watching everything you did like a hawk. You paused before pouring the fresh coffee into one of your chipped mugs, looking over at her with a smirk. You felt a little guilty for finding so much humor in this situation, but you couldn’t help it, the irony was just too good. You handed her the mug. “You know, Jennie, it’s okay if you want to take it back.” You offered her a smile which seemed to snap her out of her reverie.

“Why would I do that?”

“Well…you’re clearly not very happy with your decision, I just wanted you to know that it’s okay if—”

“Y/N, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a long time. Yeah, I’m scared as hell but…I know it’s going to be okay, as long as you have my back. You do, don’t you?”

You cracked another smile and embraced her tightly, much to her surprise. She blushed as she buried her head in the crook of your neck, setting the mug on the counter to hold you properly with both arms. You began letting go to tell her you forgave her for everything, but she clung onto you for dear life, so you chuckled and held her for a few moments more.

As you swiped your palm across her backside in soothing strokes, you felt her jostle under your embrace and looked down to see if she had had enough of the hug only to find her leaning into your face. You swallowed thickly at her rapidly approaching lips mere centimeters away from your own. Your throat went dry as your mouth hung open. You froze in place, unsure of whether this was something you wanted or not. When you didn’t back away or let go of her, she inched in closer, humming and breathing deeply as she closed her eyes. You willed your mouth to swallow a second time, taking turns looking in between her long eyelashes strewn across her cheek bones and her puckered pout, paralyzed with indecision.

As if the universe had taken some kind of pity on you, three loud knocks on your front door jolted both of you out of what could’ve been, much to Jennie’s annoyance and your relief. You cleared your throat and tip toed towards the door, checking the blinds to see who could possibly be visiting at such an hour. When you dipped your finger in between the plastic shells and bent down for a closer look, you were able to make out Jungkook anxiously checking his watch on your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Your heart squeezed at the site as you suddenly remembered it was only a few hours ago since you said goodbye right where he stood. You smiled down at yourself and backed away to open the door, but your fingers hesitated when turning the doorknob. Did he know about what Jennie did? Was that the only reason for the grand romantic gesture? You were starting to feel like the other woman who had to settle for only having a relationship whenever your boyfriend’s wife wasn’t available.

You sighed and opened the door. Jungkook’s head snapped up with the most dazzling smile that threatened to put the vibrant morning sun to shame. It was so heartwarming and full of joy that you couldn’t help but smile in return despite your initial look of concern.

He extended the flowers to you and you took them, but neither of you broke the ice for a few moments more. Eventually, Jungkook cleared his throat and began, “So…I know we just saw each other but I just had to tell you something important��”

“Jennie already told me the weddings off.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “O-Oh! Umm, okay…wait when did she tell you?”

“Last night, why?”

“She called you?”

“No, I came over. Guess we both had the same idea.” Jennie’s words came from right behind you as she rested her chin on your shoulder and snaked her arms around your waist. Jungkook’s expression turned sour at the site of his ex-fiancé hugging his girlfriend in matching oversized t-shirts.

You sniffed the flowers and gave him another shy smile. “These are really beautiful, seriously thank you. But um…you didn’t come here thinking we’d be back together just because the wedding is off, did you?” Jungkook’s mouth opened and closed in confusion. It was clear that was exactly what he thought. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly disappointed about the news, but what happens when your parents arrange the next marriage for you. And the next? Being your mistress isn’t exactly end goal for me, and frankly, you deserve better too, Jungkook. We all do.” You smiled at him again and backed up to begin closing the door, but he quickly leapt up the rest of the steps and caught the door before it could close. He sighed deeply and held the door wide open, ignoring Jennie’s piercing glare.

“No, I…I know. I just… Let me take you out. We can talk about everything and take things step by step. I at least owe you that much after everything I put you through,” Jungkook paused to tuck a stray curl behind your ear and caress your check with his index finger, leaving a blushing streak in its wake. You looked up into his warm eyes, feeling your iciness melt away. God, he was good, really good. His finger continued on its path down to your chin and tipped your head up, “And if you want nothing to do with me after that then you have my word, I’ll let you go. For good this time.” You felt a dagger piercing through your heart at his words. Although it was no different than what you’ve told him in the past, it felt different coming from him. Having him out of your life may be simpler, but it’d hurt so much, and you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

You nodded solemnly and offered him a weak smile. “How about tomorrow night?”

“Why not today?”

You smiled even bigger at his hopeful doe-eyed stare, but before you could respond, Jennie beat you to the punch. “We’re busy today, Jeon. Lots of stuff to do so if you could hurry and leave that would be great, you’re kind of holding us up.” Jennie’s bitchy attitude towards Jungkook had you rolling your eyes yet stifling a giggle.

You looked back at Jungkook and offered him an apologetic smile, “She’s right actually, we’ve got some stuff to do today but I’ll make sure I’m free tomorrow.”

Jungkook shot your friend a glare before looking back down at you and softening his expression. “Okay, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.” Jungkook debated on going in for a goodbye kiss, but seeing as how Jennie was ready to pounce at any moment, he decided to go for your hand instead. Lifting it to his lips, he placed the softest of kisses on the back of your hand, brushing his lips against the thin soft skin before squeezing your hand then letting you go. If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now. You uttered a silent prayer as you watched him walk away, hoping to find the strength you’d need to say goodbye to him a second time if it came to that.

Jennie helped you close the door all too enthusiastically. When you turned your attention back to her, she awaited your elaboration to the days’ plans eagerly.

“Why don’t you get a shower now? I’ll make us some breakfast and then we can run some errands.”

“Errands such as…?

“Such as going to the campus’ admission’s office and then going into town to see who’s hiring. It’s summertime now, there’s bound to be a few places looking for seasonal employees at least. We can also see if there are any places for rent nearby that you can afford. There might be a few vacancies open now that graduation is over,” You spoke absentmindedly as you busied yourself getting all of the ingredients together to make chocolate chip pancakes, “Trust me, Jen, as soon as you get the hard parts out of the way you’ll feel less stressed out.”

Jennie hummed as you spoke, letting you know she was still listening as she got the shower started. Before she got in, she peeked her head into the kitchen again. “You know, I can think of a more immediate way to release my stress, if you catch my drift…” Your hand paused on the whisk immersed in the gooey batter and snapped your head in her direction. She quirked her eyebrow at you, making your face heat up for the second time that morning.

Attempting to dispel the sexual tension in the air, you scoffed, “Between you and Jungkook hitting on me constantly, solitary confinement doesn’t seem like such a bad endeavor.” You stuck your tongue out at Jennie in time to catch her eye roll. She slipped out of her oversized t-shirt and purposely dropped it on the floor for you to see on her way into the bathroom. You gulped at the flash of her naked body before quickly turning back towards your batter that had now turned soupy from whipping it too harshly for too long. You uttered another silent prayer, but this time, it was for your libido not to cost you a precious friendship.

By the end of the day, you had Jennie enrolled in photography classes for the Fall semester at a local community college as well as gotten her face to face meetings with the managers of a few boutiques downtown. You were both confident she’d get a call back or two once they sat down to review her resume later this week. It was overly decorated given all of the opportunities her family had thrown her way, so you were hoping none of them would give her the bullshit “overly qualified” excuse. You also both had time to stop by her apartment and get a few things of hers to bring back to your apartment.

House hunting on the other hand, did not go so well. There were quite a few places available to move into within the month, but Jennie refused to look at any of the ones downtown. She insisted she’d settle on one of the two in your neighborhood, but when she found the listings were for renting a single room in a house full of roommates, she all but ran out of each apartment in disgust.

You two had squabbled on the bus ride home, her insisting she couldn’t possibly share a house with anyone and you insisting she was being a stubborn brat seeing as how she had no issues sharing an apartment with you.

Nonetheless she settled the argument by promising to be more open minded about any other listings you two might see. Satisfied with her promise, you assured her she could stay with you as long as she needed to.

And as you both settled in later that night to watch a movie, you knew it wouldn’t be hard at all to live with Jennie for a while, seeing as how you were both painfully domestic. You both loved staying inside with something good to watch and a bowl of popcorn. You both loved sleeping in and you both shared the same level of cleanliness. She checked all of your perfect roommate boxes as far as you were concerned. Besides, as you looked her way while she scrolled through the Netflix movie recommendations, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for her presence. Despite the rocky turn your relationship had taken, you still missed her like hell, especially now that school was done so the only human contact you were getting was from your boss and your patronizing clients.

When Jennie finally settled on a movie, she ran to her belongings and came back with her nail polish stash. You were so happy for once in your life to have some girl time that it almost brought tears to your eyes. She made fun of you for it, but you couldn’t be bothered, holding out your hands for her to manicure as she scolded you for biting your nails, as always.

The movie was interesting, but you were both so tired from running around all day that you both nodded off on the couch without finishing the film. You awoke at three in the morning to find Jennie drooling on your lap. Nudging her awake, you led her to your room by the hand where you both slept until noon the next day in a warm embrace. But before you could both drift off into unconsciousness, Jennie called your name softly to see if you were still awake.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Mm…yeah?” You hummed sleepily against your pillow.

“I really am sorry… about everything. You’ve always been so good to me, even now after everything that’s happened. I just want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you, and I’ll move on…I promise.”

You hummed along, partially responding from within your vivid dream, unable to understand what she was saying but only knowing that she was talking.

Your impending date with Jungkook had time moving by quickly, but only because you were so nervous about it. Your day at the suit shop had whizzed by and before you knew it, you were dissecting outfits in front of your mirror while Jennie gave either a hum of approval or groan of distaste. Your satin dress with lace detailing paired with a t-shirt underneath and knee-high boots had gotten the best reaction of all, a combination of eyebrows shooting up along with a high-pitched noise, so you decided to go with that one.

Although Jungkook had stressed you were meeting up to talk, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were going on your first date all over again. As you gingerly applied mascara from your old and dried out tube of product, you wondered if this was how mistresses felt once their boyfriends divorced their wives and took them out in public for the first time. Then you shook your head, knowing you shouldn’t be so dramatic. This thing with Jungkook was supposed to be fun and carefree after all, void of any labels and pressure. Somehow it had turned into everything but that.

“Honestly Jen, I’m surprised I haven’t heard any rude remarks or objections on your behalf. I was expecting at least a why are you wasting your time comment of some sort.” You thought your impression of her would at least earn a giggle, but she continued flipping through her June issue of Vogue as if she hadn’t heard you.

“I almost said something of the sort, but I meant what I said last night. So, I’m holding my tongue on the matter. Aren’t you proud of me?”

You had to take a moment to figure out what she was talking about. You recalled her faint words spoken softly in the darkness: I’ll move on, I promise. It dawned on you for the first time what she meant. You looked into your bedroom to see her sprawled out on her stomach, nonchalantly swinging her feet as she flipped through pages of glossy fashion spreads. You sighed and focused back on your now chunky eyelashes, cursing yourself for not buying any new makeup lately. You decided not to dwell too much on her words. Knowing Jennie, she’d just try to scheme her way into your favor some other way.

You put it all behind you as you read Jungkook’s text from your lit phone screen.

8:06 pm – Come out

You smiled and gave yourself one last look in the mirror, “Okay, I’m leaving now Jen. I’ll see you in an hour or two!”

You heard Jennie scoff as you opened the front door. “Knowing you two, I won’t wait up!” You rolled your eyes and closed the door behind you.

You noticed Jungkook immediately as he stood with his back towards you. He was wearing a striped henley tucked into tight black jeans. When he turned around, his eyes swept over your figure, eliciting a whistle from his puckered lips.

You smiled bashfully and rotated so he could get a full view. “Like what you see?” You curtsied goofily, something you always used to do whenever he’d make a big deal about your outfits.

Jungkook approached you and slid a hand around your waist while the other pulled on a loose curl. “Always.” He hummed and buried his nose in your hair, taking his time to revel in the scent of your hair care products he always loved so much.

You blushed but didn’t recoil from his touch. If anything, pulling back from his affections would be a learned behavior, since things like this had become second nature between you two. You looked up into his eyes, placing your hands on his pecks and letting your eyes trail south towards his mouth. Normally you’d kiss him by now, but you reminded yourself that you had to be all business tonight, so you cleared your throat instead and gently pushed him away.

“So, where to?”

“Well, I was going to take you to a nice restaurant, but I figured we’d go old school if this is potentially our last date.” He looked back at you and extended his hand. You took it hesitantly but walked side by side for a while, wondering where you were going. Soon, your university’s baseball stadium came into view and you smiled up at him.

“Are we…?”

“Yep. I know a way to get in when everything’s locked up. Though, we can still go somewhere else, since you’re wearing that.” Jungkook pulled on the spaghetti strap of your dress until it snapped against your shoulder”

“You know, if you’re nervous to play against me you don’t have to make excuses.”

This time it was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes. He chuckled and pulled on your hand until your body collided with his side. He took hold of you and squeezed tightly, whispering closely into your ear since he knew how ticklish it made you.

“What’s that now? Who’s nervous?” You laughed and squealed, trying to squirm your way out of his iron grasp. You two had reached the back entrance by now, and with a swift kick to the lock, the gate swung open. You stared at him in awe, wondering how he learned to do that.

Jungkook led you past the dugout and into the field. The blades of grass were emerald green with thin sections illuminated by the purple sunset as chunks disrupted the pretty sand and chalk outlines of the baseball diamond, no doubt evidence of the school’s willingness to save a penny wherever they could.

Jungkook walked up to the field and picked up a stray ball left on the pitcher’s mound. He took turns throwing it up and catching it before turning to you and lobbing it in your direction. You caught it then feigned a fast throw at the boy which had him wincing out of the way with his trained reflexes. When he realized you hadn’t thrown the ball at all, he shot you one of his scary looks that only meant one thing, you were dead meat.

You dropped the ball and giggled as you began hauling ass towards the bleachers. You picked up your dress so you could better hop the benches, but it was no use. Jungkook had quickly caught up to you taking two bleachers at a time and caught your wrist just as you made it to the middle of the stands. You squealed as he sat down and whirled you around by the hand, pulling you onto his lap with your back facing him.

“You think that’s funny?” Jungkook kept up his angry façade which only spurred you on further.

“Yeah, actually, I do!” Jungkook growled and took hold of both of your wrists with one hand, keeping them pinned at the small of your back. You tried to wriggle free, but it was no use. Still, you weren’t willing to relinquish control so easily, even while being in the most compromising position.

Jungkook tsked, disapproval heavy in his tone as he surveyed your backside. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to let me go.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I said so?”

Jungkook tsked again as his other hand found your inner thigh. It slid up into your dress at a decrepit rate. “Not good enough.” You felt a tingle at his soft touch, a shiver wracking your body. It’d been so long since you two had been together that your body was actively craving his attention, willing to cave in at the slightest sign of arousal no matter how hard your mind objected. Your legs instinctively closed in on his hand to stop him from moving further. He stilled his hand on your mid-thigh then looked up towards you.

“Jungkook…we’re here to talk, remember?”

“I know, but do you know that? Given by how your thighs are rubbing my hand raw, I’d say we’re both feeling the same things right now.”

You blushed and halted your legs from moving, not realizing what you had been doing. Fuck. He was right. You were turned on as hell right now, and you knew he was too. If things were different, like they were before, you’d both be ripping each other’s clothes off by now. You gulped and looked up behind you. Jungkook’s dark gaze remained on your face, but you were able to make out the growing bulge in your peripheral that had your mouth watering already. Your mind raced to make a decision before the electrified moment between you two could slip between your fingers. Your breath grew shallow as your gazes continued to bore into each other, each of you remembering the fine details of your faces in vivid detail. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You faced forward and parted your thighs slightly to allow his hand to travel further up, biting your lip in anticipation. When his hand didn’t budge, you looked back at him, noticing the torn look that adorned his angelic features. After a moment, he let go of you completely so that you could sit up and off his lap. You reluctantly did so, giving him a questioning look. Jungkook slouched as he placed his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and staring out at the vast empty field.

“I never want you to regret being with me, not even a little. You’re on the fence about me, so hooking up is probably not a good idea,” Jungkook paused then looked over at you before continuing, his expression somber, “I also told you I loved you and you haven’t really responded, so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything with me out of pity.” Jungkook shot you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I’ll shut up now so you can have the floor to talk.”

You stared at Jungkook in awe. It wasn’t unlike him to be so gentlemanly with you, but you couldn’t find it in you to respond. You hadn’t even thought about his confession to you after discovering Jennie in your apartment two nights prior. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world not bothering to consider Jungkook’s feelings amidst all of this craziness. An unexpected sob threatened to make its way to the surface, so you turned away from him, trying to compose yourself. You couldn’t believe your eyes had the nerve to betray you at such a cruel moment, but the weight of everything was hitting you hard now. Between Jungkook calling this your last date, Jennie vowing to get over you, you finding out you’re the reason their engagement is broken and to top it off, the boy you had been pining over telling you he’s in love with you, you just couldn’t help the wave of emotions flowing through you.

“I—I’m so sorry, Jungkook, that I—” Your voice cracked and Jungkook immediately wrapped his arm around you, bringing you into his chest so you could let your tears flow privately. Once the initial sob left you, it was easy to quickly wipe away your silent tears and get it together, though you weren’t in a hurry to move away. Jungkook began tracing circles into your curly head of hair which soothed you entirely. He shushed you and cooed, assuring you that you didn’t have to apologize for not returning his feelings.

“No, that’s not it. I’m sorry that you’ve been waiting for me to respond appropriately. There’s just so much going on. But, fuck Jungkook, I really do miss you,” you sniffled and sat back up to face him, “I already forgave Jennie for everything, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t forgive you too. And if I’m being completely honest, you’re right. I told you I wanted to keep things casual, but I just didn’t want to admit that I was already catching feelings for you. So…when I found out about the engagement it really tore me up. But still,” You punched Jungkook in the arm and he keeled over dramatically while rubbing the spot of your assault, “you should’ve just been honest with me from the start. I wouldn’t have let myself get in so deep with you.” You sighed and shook your head.

Jungkook sat back up, smiling down at his lap. “It’s funny to me that you think you’re so in control. I do admit that complete transparency is always the best way to go, but we were already falling for each other since day one. There’s no stopping this gravy boat, baby.”

You burst into a fit of giggles. “Gravy boat? I can’t stand you.” You both chuckled, settling backwards into the bleachers to watch the last of the sun’s rays die out in the cloudless indigo sky.

“I really am sorry though, about everything.”

“I know.”

“And I’m sorry that I tried to coerce you into being my mistress. I just really didn’t want to lose you, but you’re right, we both deserve better than a not-so-secret affair.” You smiled, nodding as he spoke. You felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders now that you two were on the same page again. Still, you wondered what awaited you two after this. Would you both go your separate ways amicably; would you try and salvage your relationship? It was now pretty clear to the both of you that you had strong feelings for each other the likes of which surpassed anything casual, but was it really possible to turn back the clock and be together?

Once the sky was completely void of warm tones, you both turned to each other, unsure of what to say. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but it wasn’t long before your lips were pressed up against each other. It was a short kiss to test the waters. When you parted and looked into each other’s eyes, silently confirming the spark you both still felt, you draped your arms around his neck and went in for another, more passionate kiss that took both of your breaths away. Jungkook was taken aback at the eagerness that clung at the edge of your unrelenting lips on his. His hands reached out and took hold of your waist as you climbed onto his lap without separating your lips. Hesitantly, he pulled away from you and looked up in bewilderment.

You sat back on his lap and looked at him in confusion for the second time.

“Y/N… are you sure this is okay? I mean…what does this mean? For us?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t gotten that far. All I know,” You grinded down on his bulge as you replied, staring at his lips hungrily while you did so, “Is that we both have strong feelings for each other, yet we can’t exactly be together. So essentially, not much has changed from before.” You smiled at him wickedly while he struggled to maintain his composure. His knuckles turned white as he gripped your hips in place. You could see a prominent vain popping out of his neck as he sat back, so you leaned in and began sucking on it. A slew of curses escaped the boy’s mouth, his hips involuntarily bucking into your clothed mound as he fought himself for control.

“So, what? We just go back to being friends with benefits?” You hummed in agreement, nipping the skin on the crook of his neck then laving at it with your wet tongue. He hissed and let out a groan which had your underwear flooding with arousal. His hands snaked into your hair and tugged roughly on the root of your strands, effectively yanking your head back and exposing your neck for his mouth to assault in turn. He talked in between kisses, trailing them hungrily down your neck as you broke out in goosebumps. “But we both know that we want more. Or else my almost getting married wouldn’t have been so painful for us.” Jungkook’s lips dragged on the surface of your flesh as he bit down on the exposed part of your shoulder. You whimpered and circled your hips onto his bulge once more.

“But your parents would never let us be together, especially not after everything that’s happened.” You closed your eyes and inhaled sharply as Jungkook’s hand left your waist in favor of flicking your hardened nipples that were now poking through the thin fabric of your clothing. You were both thankful in that moment that you decided to show up sans bra. “And until the day you decide it’s worth pissing them off just to be with me, I’m afraid this is the extent of what we have.” You grinded on his covered cock extra sweetly, drawing out another string of curses from the fucked-out boy.

“Fuck, Y/N, what are you doing to me?” He whined and threw his head back with his eyes crinkled shut in pure torture as his hands returned to your waist, but this time, he was helping them along in their relentless assault against his rock-hard member. When his head snapped back up, his irises were completely blown out. He took hold of your cheeks as his lips returned to yours ravenously. He led the kiss tongue first, and you opened your mouth in submission, letting him have his way with you. Every inch of you begged to have his touch set you ablaze as it had time and time again. Your hands clutched at his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt as your legs trembled from the stimulation of his jeans rubbing furiously on your thinly veiled sex.

Jungkook bit down on your bottom lip and dragged it out slowly, his hold on you still strong. Your grunts intermingled and disturbed the cool quiet night as you both lost yourselves in the rhythm of your hips grinding against each other.

When you licked a thick sloppy stripe up the side of his neck, Jungkook cursed one last time before beginning to desperately fumble with his belt buckle. You smiled down towards his crotch in anticipation, hiking your dress up to better spread your legs for him. Once he managed to free his member through the hole in his boxer briefs, you lifted yourself and hovered over his dick, pulling the thin fabric of your lacy underwear to the side to give him entry. Just as the tip of his penis was pushed up against your sopping wet entrance, you pulled your dress down around you to dissimulate as you sank slowly down onto him. You both let out rather loud moans, despite being in a very public setting. The only resistance his dick met was from how tightly wound your core had become as of late, despite being completely flooded for him. It was difficult to maintain your cool, since you both had been craving each other for so long.

You sat on his lap for a spell, enjoying the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. When you put your focus back to Jungkook, you noticed how strands of his hair were now sticking to his forehead with the dew that was growing on the surface of his skin. His breathing was shallow, his gaze focused on the dip in your dress that concealed your sinful activities. You looked around for the first time and grew pleased to find that there wasn’t a single person or car out and about, and even if there was, you two weren’t easily seen given the positioning of the bleachers facing the field and not the street. Still, you loved the thrill of the danger of being caught in public with Jungkook. Your veins felt alight with adrenaline pumping through them.

Slowly and sensually, you began rocking your hips back and forth in the perfect rhythm that wouldn’t look too suspicious to any onlookers you may not have noticed. It was also the perfect rhythm to drive Jungkook absolutely wild. He bit his lip and threw his head back as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His hands returned to your waist once more to halt your movements altogether.

“Fuck, I’m gonna bust if you keep going like that. Give me a minute.” You both chuckled breathlessly and resumed making out. But as your tongues began wickedly swirling around in between your mouths, Jungkook quickly grew hungry for more and began fucking up into you suddenly. His hands unabashedly palmed and kneaded your ass roughly under the fabric of your dress. Your kiss stifled your sharp moans as each thrust hit your g-spot perfectly, much to your surprise. Your legs instantly began trembling, but Jungkook was not willing to go easy on you. He held the back of your head to keep your moans muffed as you kissed while his other hand that laid on your bottom roughly bobbed you up and down his drenched shaft. You placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling your walls quickly tightening and releasing in succession as your orgasm threatened to hit.

Jungkook parted from your lips only to look up at you as your face contorted in pleasure. He was deliciously vocal whenever you weren’t kissing which made you want to cum for him that much quicker. Yet as his own moaning and groaning grew in frequency while you chased your high determinedly, he stopped you from moving yet again with a strong grip on your waste.

“Jungkook—” You leaned forward and whimpered into the crook of his neck as your core continued to spasm. He chuckled with a dark timbre, bringing his hands to your thighs and rubbing them softly.

“I want to enjoy this for a bit longer, can’t let you cum just yet.” Feeling merciful, he loosened his grip on your waist, allowing you to rock back and forth on his cock to bring stimulation back to your needy cunt. You resumed your moaning without siting back up, knowing full well what it does to Jungkook to hear you moan directly into his ear. The boy bit his bottom lip aggressively, losing himself in the sensations as he began bucking up into you again while closing his eyes and focusing on the sweet sounds entering his ear lobe.

“Yes, Jungkook…just like that.” You stuttered each time the tip of his head hit that sweet spot inside of you that made you see stars over and over again and made his hands grope your ass cheeks every time your voice became high-pitched. Jungkook began cursing again as your walls squeezed the life out of the head of his shaft. He involuntarily began cumming inside of you despite his best efforts. He panted, speeding up his assault on your g-spot while remaining at full mass to hear you moan again and again in the way that drove him absolutely mad.

“Yes, Jungkook, fuck, fuck!” You panted as a flood of release left your body and with it went all of the tension from the last few months. You felt his cum coating your walls as ribbons continued spurting out of him from over stimulation. Looking up at him in gratitude, you placed a sloppy tired kiss on his opened mouth then rested your head o his chest while you both caught your breaths. He held you close to him, rubbing your back soothingly while you listened to his erratic heartbeat slow down. After a minute, you lifted yourself to adjust your underwear and give him room to zip his pants back up.

“Fuck Y/N…” He buckled his belt thoughtfully. Even though you could easily choose to believe he was congratulating you on being the seductress he felt you were, you knew deep down he was referring to your convoluted relationship status. You wrapped your arms around his neck again and waited for his attention to be back on you again.

“I appreciate you wearing your heart on your sleeve for me. We might not have everything figured out just yet, but the last thing I want to do is hurt you or lose you completely. That’s a good start for us, right? Maybe we can figure this out as we go, as long as we promise not to hurt each other anymore.”

Jungkook smiled and nodded in agreement though he didn’t seem overjoyed. Pecking your lips and helping you up to your feet, Jungkook was pensive the entire way home as you both walked hand in hand with you supplying most of the conversation. When you reached your doorstep, neither of you wanted to be the one to let go first.

After your third kiss goodbye, Jungkook seemed tortured.

“What’s wrong?” You slid your arms from around him and backed up to get a better look at his face. The boy stuck his hands in his pockets and shut his eyes tightly with regret before deciding to just come out with what he was thinking.

“Can I come inside? To hang out with you…and Jennie?”

[litwitlady]

Send Me Home (1/?)

Read on AO3.

‘The Braves are down to their last at bat, Jeff. And it’s Michael Guerin in the on-deck circle. What’s Ramon’s strategy here? Does he try to jam him up inside or keep firing fastballs and hope Guerin can’t catch up?’

It’s September in Atlanta and the Braves are playing the Marlins. Every game counts as both teams vy for a spot in October baseball. Michael Guerin is a lead candidate for MVP, and he’s always a threat in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and the bases loaded. The sellout crowd roars as his walk-up music begins to play.

I was born to the desert And to the desert I’ll return Sun-soaked and leathered Tattered and tethered Send me home, send me home, send me home

‘Ramon’s got that curveball, Chip. I’m not sure Guerin’s ever met a fastball he couldn’t hit. Especially in the bottom of the ninth. So, I think Ramon starts with the curveball even if that’s exactly what Guerin’s expecting.’

Michael steps into the batter’s box and takes a couple of quick practice swings, eyes wide and watching Ramon’s every move. He squares his hips and lowers his hands on the bat just a touch. It’s an adjustment he’s been working on for the past month or so with great success. Ramon lets loose his first pitch. As expected, it’s a nasty curveball and a pitch Michael has struck out on more than once during his twelve year career. But this time he’s prepared and anticipates perfectly where the bottom of the curve will land. He shoots a laser to shallow right field, and it drops in for a walk-off single. The dugout empties and everyone tackles him as he crosses home plate, one game closer to October.

--------

Later that night, Michael sits on the tailgate of his Chevy, beer in hand and staring up at the stars like so many nights before. Several of the guys had harassed him about going out to celebrate, but he’s not in the mood. He’s never in the mood these days. The winning still feels good and the possibility of the MVP is a dream. But for a long time now, he’s felt like there’s something missing in his life. Something essential, something elusive, something just out of his reach.

The truth is that he’s lonely. It’s a truth he can admit to himself when he’s alone underneath the cosmos watching the stars blink down at him against the wide expanse of space.

There have been relationships along the way. Women he’s dated earnestly. Once upon a time, maybe even a couple he could have loved. When he was younger, there had also been a few men. But none recently. The deeply rooted homophobia of baseball to blame. Mostly anyway. It’s strange now - everyone knows he’s bisexual, a simple Google search is all it takes. But he’s fairly certain baseball collectively decided to ignore his sexuality altogether after he got called up to the majors all those years ago.

He wants to believe he’s not afraid to be seen with men. He tells himself it’s just simpler this way, less complicated. Fewer awkward questions and the focus remaining on his athletic abilities rather than his sex life. Besides, only two major league players have ever come out and they both only did so after they’d retired. He supposes maybe he counts as the third. It’s not the stuff of fairytales, and Michael had learned that lesson during his brief stint in Double-A ball.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

Alex Manes’ new album drifts through the truck’s windows. His low, throaty voice practically purring into Michael’s ears. He’s been a big fan of Alex and his music for several years now. They’re both from New Mexico and the way he sings about the desert rings true enough to Michael that listening to one of his songs sends him right back home. Despite their many issues, he misses his brother and sister so badly sometimes he can barely breathe. Alex’s music reminds him of all the things and all the people he’s left behind - for better or worse. A couple of years ago, he’d had the opportunity to see Alex perform live but he’d turned it down. He still can’t explain why.

The night stretches out before him. Beer and music lulling him into a peaceful sleep until a bright light flashes in his face and startles him awake. He sits up and raises his hands peacefully. ‘Hey, Ernie.’

‘Oh, Mr. Guerin. I didn’t recognize you. What are you still doing here? It’s past midnight.’ He clicks the flashlight off and clips it back onto his belt. ‘Congrats on the walk-off!’

Michael shrugs. ‘Thanks. Didn’t want to go home just yet. Like watching the stars at night. But I haven’t seen you in a while. The grandkids still running circles around you?’

‘You know it! Caleb just turned five and is a holy terror. Michelle is eight going on eighteen. I can barely get a word in edgewise between the two of them.’ His eyes shine even in the darkness, crinkling at the edges.

Michael’s heart aches at Ernie’s easy, simple joy, but he manages a genuine smile thanks to the night’s shadows softening the edges of his jaw. ‘That sounds nice.’ He hops off his tailgate. ‘I’ll get out of your hair. Got an early game anyway. Need to get some sleep.’

‘Well, now, don’t let me chase you off. I don’t mind the company. It gets a little spooky at night. You can always come knock on my door if you ever need anything.’ Ernie opens the Chevy’s door for Michael and shuts it behind him. ‘All these other guys with their flashy sports cars and you in this old rust bucket. You’re a weird one, Mr. Guerin. But I like that about you.’

Michael runs his hands around the cracked steering wheel. ‘Most days this truck is about the closest thing to home I’ve got. There’s still desert dirt in the bed and an engine I rebuilt myself. What the fuck would I do with a Ferrari?’

They both laugh and Michael waves and honks his horn as he pulls out of the player’s lot. The streets are mostly empty, cars keeping to the well-lit interstate at night. He decides to stay on surface roads and take the long way home, radio softly playing old country songs. His thoughts drift to tomorrow’s game and the rookie pitcher the Marlins are starting. His own rookie year had been tough, and he makes a mental note to speak to the kid at some point during the game, ask him how he’s doing and if he’s being treated well.

The streetlights along Peachtree illuminate his path through Brookhaven. He crosses into Atlanta city limits and enters Buckhead just as ‘Lay Me Down’ by Loretta Lynn and Willie Nelson starts to play through his speakers. And all too soon, he turns down his street and opens the cedar gate at the end of his driveway, parking his truck and sitting in the darkness until the song comes to an end.

Climbing out of his truck, he unlocks the front door with his telekinesis, slipping inside quietly and deactivating his alarm system. He’d bought the house in foreclosure, spending most of his money on remodeling the mid-century ranch. It’s not extravagant, but it’s the most expensive thing he owns. He’d even let Isobel fly out to decorate the place within a very strict budget, and he’d had to admit she’d done a great job - one side of his front door Atlanta, the other side New Mexico.

But even so, it has never felt like home.

The first few nights he’d spent in the house had been rough. It was too quiet and too soft and too much. More than once he’d grabbed his ancient, worn sleeping bag and crawled into the bed of his truck. Sleeping hard on the uncomfortable. ribbed metal but beneath the stars he loved so much. The morning dew waking him with the sun each morning.

These days he manages to sleep in bed at night, but only because he’d installed two skylights overhead so that the stars would always be his. And only his. He rarely brings anyone home anymore, preferring their house to his. But when he does, he takes them to a guest bedroom. None of them ever seem to mind how empty the space is or how devoid of personality. Four blank walls and a lone bed filling the room. Why would they? It’s not Michael the foster kid from the desert they’re sleeping with. It’s Michael Guerin the multi-millionaire first baseman with the single-season home run record and the aw-shucks, good boy smile.

Tonight he doesn’t bother turning on any lights. He just pads through the kitchen to grab an apple and a bottle of water, undresses and climbs into bed. He takes a large bite of the granny smith and pulls out his phone, calling Isobel.

‘Congrats on the walk-off!’ He can hear another game in the background. Isobel had never watched a baseball game in her life - including any of his - until the day he’d gotten drafted right out of high school. But now she watches all of them. Or as many of them as possible. Her scouting reports are better than anything stamped official and readily available in the team clubhouse.

‘Thanks. Didn’t really see the ball that well tonight, though. Is Max there?’ It’s stupid to ask when he already knows the answer.

‘Out with Liz. They’ve been inseparable ever since she moved back to Roswell. It’s gross and I miss you.’ The sound on her tv goes silent and he knows she’s settling in for a long conversation. ‘Tell me about tomorrow. Any surprises?’

‘No. New kid on the mound just called up. Got a mean slider. Torres has some pain in his wrist so he’ll be benched.’ Michael finishes his apple in two large bites and guzzles his water, listening to Isobel pound away at her keyboard already deep in research mode. ‘Might get me moved up to the number two slot.’

They spend fifteen minutes strategizing. It’s what they do most nights. Isobel critiquing the numbers based on intuition and her own database of knowledge concerning the human psyche, while he runs statistical analyses and probabilities in his head faster than humanly possible. Michael suggests more than once that she’d make a great scout and that maybe when he retires they can go into business together. He’s told her this a million times, but she only laughs him off and reminds him that she already has a job.

‘A worthless job that doesn’t pay you what you deserve.’ He reaches for the tv remote on his nightstand but can’t find it. Not that it matters. He switches the television on with his mind and nods his head through the channels, stopping on an old western and muting the volume.

‘Philanthropy is not worthless, Michael!’ She sighs loudly to punctuate her exasperation. ‘And my salary is not the point - the point is helping people. Besides, I have all of Noah’s money and can negotiate more pay any time I choose.’

That he believes. ‘How’d your date go last night?’ Asking Isobel about her date absolutely means she’ll push him to share something just as personal. But it was her first official date with a woman and he genuinely wants to know how it went. No matter the price he’ll pay.

‘Really, really, really well.’ He can hear the grin in her voice and it makes him smile. ‘She’s a cardiologist and very good with her hands. Valenti makes a pretty superb matchmaker. Maybe I’ll ship him your way because you could certainly use the help.’

Michael rolls his eyes and fakes a groan. ‘You can keep Valenti. Don’t you think it’s weird to have your ex setting you up on dates? Do you really think he’s the best judge of character?’

‘Kyle knows me better than most. He was my first relationship after Noah and he put up with a lot. I trust him implicitly with my heart and yours. Plus, I was the one who broke up with him.’

‘My heart is fine, thanks.’ He lies smoothly and knows exactly how she’s going to respond.

‘I can’t stand the thought of you all the way across the country in that foreign place with no one to go home to at night.’

He snorts. ‘It’s called Georgia, Iz. And I’m not home enough for a relationship to work right now.’

‘Half the guys on your team - on any team! - are married. So that’s a pisspoor excuse. You keep pushing everyone away. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Michael. As soon as you start to feel something, the doors slam shut and you become another stereotypical lonewolf cowboy.’ Her voice is loud now, vehement and self-righteous. They’ve reenacted this scene so many times it feels very paint by number at this point. ‘I hardly ever hear a smile in your voice anymore.’

She’s right and she knows it. He used to love dating, meeting new people. First kisses and first fucks. Last kisses and farewell fucks. He lived for those moments and now he hardly ever looks anyone in the eye. ‘We have this conversation at least once a month. And nothing has changed. It’s too hard right now, Iz. I’m too known to ever really be known. Not the way I would want to be. Not in any way that I would trust.’

There’s no use arguing so they move on to easier topics. Max and LIz’s ongoing romance, details of Isobel’s date, Maria’s remodel of the Pony thanks to a very generous anonymous donation. Every word out of her mouth squeezes his heart a little bit tighter until it’s too much and he says goodnight.

Flipping onto his side, he reaches his arm out to the other side of the bed, running his hand over the cold, unwrinkled sheet. His eyes land on the empty pillow no head ever touches and tries to imagine a face looking back at him. A face that might smile suggestively or quietly murmur goodnight. But he’s unable to conjure anything beyond a blank, shapeless outline. It makes him feel pathetic so he yanks the pillow underneath his own head and forces his eyes shut, trying in vain to quiet his mind. Despite his best efforts, sleep takes its sweet time finding him.

The next morning he’s exhausted but gets to the field early. He’d woken up to a cryptic message from Isobel. There’s a surprise waiting for you after the game! Stick around this time, Michael. Don’t make me get on a plane. He’s sure that can’t mean anything good, but he attempts to put it out of his mind for now.

The ballpark is already bustling with activity. Michael heads into the clubhouse to change. He stops and asks Stan, their hitting coach, for some extra work before the rest of the team arrives. He’s worried about how he’s been shifting his wrists recently and wants someone else’s opinion. The adjustments he’d made last night seem to be working, but he’s worried about straining a muscle or tweaking the wrong tendon. Two of his teammates are already on the IL with wrist pain. He doesn’t want to be next, especially with the postseason race and his run at MVP on the line.

Michael finds Danny Marks asleep in one of the clubhouse’s leather chairs. He swats him on the head on the way to his locker, laughing at Danny’s loud yelp. ‘Fuck, man, you’re always asleep. How did you manage to stay awake on the mound long enough to put together two Cy Young seasons?’

‘Talent, Guerin. Talent. You should try it sometime. Maybe then you’ll win MVP.’ Danny yawns and stretches his arms over his head. Michael glares at him. ‘Don’t worry. You’re still the favorite. Our very own diamond darling. No one else is getting their own personal concert any time soon.’

‘What?’ He sits on the chair at his locker, blinking at Danny in confusion. ‘Personal concert?’ Isobel’s strange text message flashes through his head again while he inwardly groans.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Danny grins and crosses his ankles on the table in front of him, brashly enjoying the way Michael squirms. ‘Alex Manes is traveling down from Nashville just for you - baseball’s most beloved first baseman.’ He throws a toy football at Michael’s head, chuckling when it bounces off his curls. ‘He’s not bad looking, you know.’

‘Stop.’ Danny is Michael’s best friend on the team and the only one he feels comfortable enough to have this conversation with. ‘Whose idea was this? Did Isobel do something? Or was this you?’

Michael doesn’t want this. Not at all. And he can’t exactly explain why. Music is personal to him - profoundly personal. Always has been since he was nothing but an unloved kid trapped in various violent foster homes. It was music that had kept him warm at night and music that had loved him best. The only escape available to him during most of his darkest hours.

Over the years, there have been many artists he’s considered favorites. Most of them old country crooners or folk song heroes. Much like Alex Manes. But with Alex, it’s something more. Something he has a hard time vocalizing. They are both from New Mexico. Both spent a chunk of their formative years in Roswell. Michael has read or watched multiple interviews with Alex where he’s alluded heavily to an abusive father. His lyrics certainly do the same. Lots of kids grow up that way - Michael knows he’s not alone in that particular fate - but the way Alex puts that pain to music settles something inside his chest that has never been settled before.

So the thought of meeting Alex worries Michael. They say don’t meet your heroes for a reason. In his head, Alex represents a sense of safety, a sense of home. What happens when they meet and that’s taken from him? Because maybe Alex is a liar. Or maybe he’s a dick. Either possibility is very real. He’s also a vet, and Michael hates, hates, hates the military. And he doesn’t want to hate Alex. Doesn’t want to lose his music. Cannot emotionally afford to lose his music if he’s being honest.

‘Isobel apparently knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. I just didn’t try and stop her. Or Lena.’ Danny’s wife is Isobel’s favorite human. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to Michael since meeting Danny. The two of them have done nothing but make his life one unasked for surprise after another. ‘Besides, even if you hate it, the team could really use some fun before heading into the postseason. Some good old-fashioned team bonding, my friend. And this time, you don’t get to run away. The guys need to see their captain smile every once in a while.’

Michael sighs and changes into his warmups. Danny’s phone rings and he grins one last time at Michael before disappearing for some privacy. Michael decides to push Alex Manes to the back of his mind and concentrate on the game ahead of him. Stan is waiting, anyway. So he’ll focus on his wrists for now and worry about everything else later. The one thing he does do, however, is pull out his phone and send Isobel a very pointed text.

You should have gotten my permission first.

Isobel’s text response is nothing but the angel halo emoji. Michael wishes his telekinesis was strong enough to travel across state lines because he’d like to throw her phone into the wall. Since that option is not available to him, he sends Max a text instead.

Your sister is a menace.

He pockets his phone, not bothering to wait on an answer. Max tends to be too busy these days. Not that that’s anything new really. Unless your name is Liz Ortecho or Isobel Evans, he doesn’t have much time for you.

The morning stretches by as gametime approaches. Batting practice goes well and Michael works with Stan on keeping his wrists from turning too much when he swings. His teammates have all found out about the concert by the time the first pitch is thrown and none of them will let him forget it. Each time his walk-up music begins to play, Danny leads a small group of particularly bad vocalists in a sing-a-long. All of them belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Michael tries to keep the stupid grin off his face and almost suceeds.

He won’t admit it, but he actually begins to get excited. Doesn’t even mind when Max only ends up responding with a snarky text.

Try living less than five miles from her.

He’d give anything to live five miles from Isobel. Michael loves his teammates. He really does. Atlanta has one of the best team dynamics in baseball. Maybe the best. They support each other, love one another, and when they say family, they mean it. Team dinners and family outings are normal even during the off season. Michael doesn’t avoid spending time with them because he dislikes anyone - although there have been various tiffs in the past but nothing long lasting. He avoids them because he loves them enough to let his mouth loosen too much, all his secrets threatening to tumble out with no regard for his safety or the safety of his siblings.

He knows this because it has happened on more than one occasion. Years ago during his rookie years when living hard and drinker harder were his nightly norm. On any given night you’d find him at the bar, four fingers deep into a bottle of bourbon, mouthing off about moving things with his mind. It wasn’t the booze talking; it was his loneliness. The throbbing homesick ache in his chest that only Max and Isobel could smooth away. Once he knew his teammates were shitfaced, he’d let some little comment slip about his abilities. Half of them never paid any attention to the things he said and the other half merely laughed at him.

He’d told Isobel one night about the things he said and she’d yelled at him solidly for an hour. The next day he’d gotten a nasty phone call from Max and has kept his mouth shut ever since that conversation.

Keeping their secret is important. Michael understands that, but the lying exhausts him. He loves Danny and hates that the most important part of himself Danny and Lena can never know. He loves his other teammates, and he doesn’t want to hide this huge part of himself from them forever. The lying has always made him feel unclean - distant and deceptive. Back in Roswell, it had been easier. He hadn’t had many friends and the people closest to him shared the same secret. But now, the people he sees every single day aren’t allowed to know the real him. It breaks his heart in a way he could never have anticipated, making him feel truly alien.

Michael and Isobel had jumped through enormous hoops to keep his DNA secret from team doctors and drug testers. It’s the only reason he’d ever agreed to her mind influence.

A major league baseball player cannot have telekinetic superpowers, alien or not. The cheating accusations would be immediate and relentless - his career over and his name shamed forever. Regardless of the fact that he would never dream of cheating to advance his career. Besides, he’s self-aware enough - or perhaps cocky enough - to understand that his level of talent doesn’t require any telekinetic assistance. Michael Guerin is just that fucking good.

During his last at bat in the eighth inning, Alex Manes’ face flashes on the digital scoreboard high above centerfield advertising the aftergame concert. Michael concentrates on keeping his wrists tight and imagines that Alex is somewhere in the stadium watching him. He swings at the first pitch - a fastball left too high over the plate - and knows he’s gotten every piece of it by the cracking sound his bat makes. He starts a slow run to first base and watches the ball sail over the leftfield wall. With his signature two claps, he rounds first and enjoys the cheering crowd chanting his name. Stepping on the bag at home plate, his eyes glance back up at the scoreboard, but Alex’s face has disappeared. And suddenly his nerves have returned tenfold at the realization that soon he’ll be face to face with a man he has no idea how to talk to - what to say or even if he’ll get a chance to say anything at all.

Despite the cheers and happy butt slaps from his teammates, the pit in Michael’s stomach stretches wide. In the clubhouse, he checks his phone again and one last final message from Isobel lights up his screen.

He wants to meet you first.

[erin-bo-berin]

Soulmates

So, I’ve finally returned after a break for the holidays. I immediately had this idea after watching the season 15 premiere (although I’ve seen some other people write about it too so obviously it’s a common subject), I wanted to make the Jeid situation even more complicated in this between Spencer, JJ and the reader. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: Mature (smut)

Word Count: 5,306

How is it that someone that makes you so happy can also make you so incredibly sad? 

The thought floats through your mind as you play with the food on your plate. 

It was Friday. You and your best friend’s weekly Chinese takeout night. Usually, the two of you would pig out on all your favorite Chinese dishes, binge watch something on Netflix and just hang out after a long week. Tonight was different. Although it had been for some time.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

You look up at Spencer. His usual happy face is filled with fatigue and sadness. He hadn’t been his usual self for a while and you knew it, though you tried not to broach the subject—for many reasons.

“Not really. Long day,” you fibbed, pushing the plate to the side.

“I know the feeling,” he sighed, taking a small bite.

You studied him, noticing that he looked even more tired than when you first met up earlier that evening. He looked drained, in fact.

“Tough case?”

You were used to hearing about cases that left wear and tear on your best friend. Being an FBI Agent in a specific unit dedicated to studying, analyzing and dealing with serial killers, it took a toll on Spencer.

“Actually, JJ and I finally talked.”

You felt your stomach drop at the words, the dread of what he was going to say next causing a white noise to block out your hearing as if it could block out his next words. This was the last thing you wanted to hear about, but you wouldn’t dare tell Spencer that. You would do anything for him, even if it meant listening to this again.

It had been a topic of conversation between the two of you for over six months. Well more or less Spencer talking, you listening and attempting to give advice. 

“Oh? What did she say?”

You tried to swallow down the sense of dread as you took another bite of egg roll. For once, you didn’t enjoy the taste of the flaky, deep fried side.

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. It had been hard on him, this last six months. Not only had JJ—his best friend of 15 years—confess that she actually loved him and always did, but then neither one of them knew how to talk about it, so they just kind of stopped talking altogether. Things had been awkward between them and Spencer had no idea how to process the information because JJ has a husband and two kids, who he adores. 

As if things couldn’t get any more complicated, you just happened to be in love with Spencer too. That, though, he doesn’t know.

So basically you’re in love with your best friend who’s in love with his other best friend who loves him but is also married. Couldn’t be more simple, right?

You mentally groan at the thought. Your life has basically become a soap opera.

You have nothing against JJ. She’s pretty and super sweet and always has been welcoming to you the few times you’ve met her. She once joked that besides his mother, you and her were Spencer’s biggest fans. If only she knew.

At the same time, you can’t help but feel jealous because of her being so pretty and sweet. It’s no wonder Spencer has had feelings for her for years and of course you can’t blame her for loving Spencer either. You know how much he loves her kids—aka his godsons—and thinks that her husband Will is great for her. Spencer would always sacrifice his happiness for anyone else, especially for the ones he loves.

Even though it’s at a point where you know it won’t happen, you still feel a deep rooted envy at the fact that they share a bond and a love that you couldn’t even fathom having with Spencer yourself. 

“Oh? What did she say?”

As hard as it is to listen to it, you’re concerned about him. He’s beaten himself up wondering what could’ve been, had he made the right choices. He even asked you if you thought he was living the right life. You couldn’t tell him that though, that’s only something he can answer himself.

“That she would’ve never told me if it hadn’t been for the circumstances.”

You nod, remembering how they’d been taken hostage by an unsub who seemed to have a truth or dare fetish. When asked, JJ opted for truth and the unsub wanted to hear her deepest, darkest secret or else she would die. Unfortunately, that’s what tumbled out and they’d been living with the damage of it since.

“But she never wanted to lie to me. She said she meant it. That...that I was-” he pauses, taking a deep breath as if he needs the extra strength to continue.

“That I was her first love and always will be.”

You flinch a bit at the words. That had to hurt. Oddly enough, you start to feel yourself become resigned towards the situation. 

“Are you okay?”

He nods before continuing.

“Also that she also loves Will and the boys too. Basically it’s like in another universe maybe it could have happened, but it won’t in this one.”

Your heart hurts so badly. Not from your own hurt, but from seeing him suffer. You know he’s hurting and feels lost and you can’t help but feel guilty knowing how much hatred you’ve had towards the entire situation, even if it was only internally.

“Will you guys be alright?”

He nods again.

“She’s my best friend and she’s happy. She deserves to be happy.”

“And what about you? Don’t you deserve to be happy?”

“No.”

Your fork clangs on your plate, surprised as his negativity.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t deserve to be happy, Y/N,” he answers, looking at you dead on, his unhappiness seeping from every inch of him.

“Of course you do. That’s not fair to you.”

“Nor is it to anyone else when I can’t move on from JJ. All I’ve ever wanted was JJ.”

The rest of the night was uncharacteristically quiet after that and you parted ways much earlier than you usually did. 

You had no idea where to go from here. You wanted to help him, be there for him but was it worth it when it constantly left you heartsick and worn? You didn’t have the answer to that.

It was like the situation between him and JJ. Just one of those complicated things.

•

Eight weeks after that one failed Chinese night, everything fell apart. 

Work had been busier than usual for Spencer, often resulting in his cancelling plans with you. 

Your work had been less busy, unfortunately giving you more time to dwell on your internalized feelings, even though you hated yourself for feeling such way. But you couldn’t stop your mind from thinking of all the time Spencer was around JJ. Regardless or not of him acting on his feelings, being around that person so much was only going to cause those feelings to linger.

You grumble to yourself as you force yourself to concentrate on your workload. Thinking these things are only gonna make you more miserable, regardless if you can’t help them.

To make matters worse, you’ve started to avoid Spencer. All you want to do is to see him, but when he’s actually free, you come up with an excuse why you can’t hang out.

As if reading your mind, your phone buzzes next to you on your desk and you glance over to see a text from Spencer.

Coffee after work tonight? I miss you. 

If you were to admit it to yourself, you missed him too. A lot. But you also missed how things used to be, before the complicated situation with JJ and if you were honest, before you realized you were in love with him. Things were so much simpler then.

Can’t. Sorry. Already have plans.

You watch the three gray dots appear on the screen, indicating his typing and watch them for a long moment before they disappear. No new message appeared and you sigh, setting your phone back down and pushing him as far from your mind as you can.

•

You’re on your couch later that night watching some sappy romance movie you found on TV. It’s not helping your mood much. Contrary to what you’d told Spencer, you had no plans. Unless you counted eating mint chocolate chip ice cream in your pajamas and watching tv like a lovesick puppy, plans.

“Don’t do it chica, you’re only gonna get friend zoned,” you mumble to the tv, taking a bite of ice cream.

A loud knock comes from your front door, startling you. You’d been awaiting an Amazon package all evening and figured it was finally the delivery man.

Setting the ice cream carton on the coffee table, you pad towards the door and open it to find out it’s not the delivery man. It’s Spencer.

He smiles at you before pulling you into a hug, his face nuzzling into your neck, a trait he always does when he hugs someone. Something you absolutely love. You feel your heart tug painfully as he hugs you tight as if he hasn’t seen you in forever. Technically, he hasn’t.

“Hey, I’ve missed your face, he says, pulling away.

“Sorry to just bust in like this. But I had to drop something off for Emily and I thought I’d stop by while I was out. Didn’t you say you had plans?”

His eyes sweep over the living room in front of him, landing on the carton of ice cream then flicking to the television.

“I- uh yeah I kinda did,” you stammer, unable to come up with a good enough excuse.

He rolls his eyes at you, motioning to the scene in front of the two of you, “Are you on your period? You could’ve just told me and I’d picked up ice cream and come to hang out with you anyway.”

You groan, turning to walk into your apartment, Spencer at your heels.

“I can’t believe you’d think to ask if it’s that. But no, I’m not.”

What? It’s a normal thing all women go through,” he shrugged, unfazed about the topic at all.

“I know you didn’t come by just to talk about my menstrual cycle Spencer.”

“No,” he said, more serious now. 

He takes a seat on your couch and you stand in front of him, trying to keep your distance. You’d really like to save yourself some heartache tonight.

“I came because I’ve missed you. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to hang out like we usually have. Work has been crazy, then there was JJ’s surprise birthday party last weekend.”

JJ, of course, you thought bitterly.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come but you said you were busy all weekend…”

Another lie. You just didn’t want to be around the two of them honestly. It was petty, you knew it, but it hurt to see them together. Especially with all that you knew. 

“Sorry about that. I hope she had a good time?”

“She did,” he grinned, launching into telling her about the party, but you only half listened.

What would he do if you ever confessed your feelings for him? Would he be freaked out? Would it scare him away? Most importantly, would it just make his life more difficult?

Yes, probably.

Which is why you couldn’t ever tell him. 

It was at this point that you realized he’d stopped speaking and you were still staring at him with your arms crossed. A highly defensive position. Something he would obviously catch on to. You watch as he takes notice of your body language and it’s like you see the moment he realizes something’s wrong. He knows you just about as well as you know yourself, in fact.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern flooding his features.

“Nothing.” 

You drop your arms, trying to appear less defensive, but you’re still tense.

“I’m not stupid, Y/N,” Spencer retorts, watching as you walk over and turn off the tv, “I know something’s wrong. Have you been avoiding me?”

“No.”

You don’t look at him when you answer.

“Then look at me.”

You do as you’re told and you’re sure your guilt is written all over your face.

“Have I done something wrong?”

The hurt expression etched on his face causes a fresh wave of pain to wash over you. The last thing you want is to ever hurt him, he doesn’t deserve it.

“No, you haven’t done anything Spencer.”

“You’re not upset about the whole JJ situation are you?” 

Your breath catches, as if frozen in your lungs. If only he realized just how on the mark that was.

“I know it’s been a mess with that entire thing, but it doesn’t change things for us. You’re still my best friend, you know that.”

Best. Friend.

You choke down the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat, the answers to all the questions that have been occupying your mind suddenly confirmed. He was never going to love you more than a friend and that was that.

“I talked to JJ about it too. She knows I’ve been confiding in you about it all and she feels bad about it affecting our friendship too.”

You laugh bitterly.

“It’s a little late for that.”

Confusion is all over his face now, mingled with the hurt.

“She said she’d like to get together with you sometime, maybe to make it up to you or maybe we can all hang out and—”

“Spencer, I’m tired. I think I just want to go to bed okay?”

You walk toward the door and you hear him stand from the couch.

“No. Not until you tell me what’s bothering you, Y/N.”

The tears are threatening to come. If you’re not careful they’re going to spill any second. All of a sudden you’re so weary, so drained. You’re just so very tired of carrying this.

“If you have to ask…” you whisper, your lips trembling. 

You do not want to cry in front of him. You refuse to. Then he’ll really know something’s wrong.

“I just want to know what’s wro—”

“Can you please just leave? I just want to be alone.”

He knows you well enough to know when to not bother arguing with you.

You catch a glimpse of each other as he walks past you to the door. He looks crestfallen, but his eyes search your face. Your expression is hard, closed to any emotion as to not betray your true feelings.

When the door closes behind him, you sink against the door to the floor, the tears finally coming. You sob so hard your body shakes violently. The hurt is such a deep sinkhole within you that you have no idea how you’re ever going to climb out of it.

•

He doesn’t know how it happens, but after driving around for nearly an hour, he ends up at JJ’s house.

Spencer gets out of the car, walking up the sidewalk to her front door. He hopes it’s not too late to be dropping in, but there’s no one else he knows to turn to about this.

He replayed the scene over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what was wrong, what had happened. Life had been so confusing lately and it seemed like when he had everything figured out it would just throw him another curveball. 

While things were rough and awkward with JJ for months, things were good and albeit normal with Y/N. Now that things were better—maybe a bit different—but still better with JJ, his friendship with Y/N had gone to hell. 

His IQ may be 187, but women were always confusing no matter if you were technically a genius or not.

JJ was the one who would know what to do. She’d helped him through so much shit before, he knew she could again.

The doorbell only rang once when the door opened to reveal Will.

“Hey man,” he grinned.

“You must’ve heard we had my award winning spaghetti for dinner tonight and came by for leftovers didn’t ya?” Will joked.

Spencer chuckled. He really did like Will; regardless of what had happened between himself and JJ, he knew Will was good for her and treated her right.

“Unfortunately not tonight. I was wondering if I could talk to JJ if she’s not busy?”

“Sure,” Will stepped aside, inviting him in, “Case you’re working on?”

“Something like that,” Spencer answered vaguely.

Before Will could answer, there was a shout that came from the other room.

“Uncle Spencerrrr!” 

A tiny body came flying at him and he picked up Michael in his arms, spinning him around and hugging him at the same time.

“Hey Michael, how are you?”

“Good,” he grinned. 

“Hi Uncle Spencer,” came another voice and Spencer looked up to see his other godson, the older Henry who was now too old to be picked up and spun around like he once did.

“Hey Henry.” He gave him a high five as Henry passed to the stairs.

“Michael, bedtime,” JJ scolded as she walked in the room not far behind her oldest son.

“Hey Spence,” she greeted, smiling at him.

“Just let me get these boys into bed and I’ll be right down.”

“You go ahead, I’ll tuck in the boys,” Will offered, taking Michael from Spencer’s arms.

“Come on little man. Bedtime. Tell uncle Spencer goodnight.”

“Night uncle Spencer!” the two chorused.

“Night guys,” Spencer smiled, watching Will disappear out of sight before turning to JJ.

“What’s up? I heard you tell Will it’s case related?”

“Not exactly,” he sighed, “I just didn’t want to get into my sob story.”

JJ took in his tired and worried expression with worry of her own.

“Come on into the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea and we can talk, okay?”

He nodded and followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the island as she filled the tea kettle with water and put it on the stove to heat.

“Now. Spill, Spence. I know you well enough to know when something is eating at you.”

“You’d think it’d be enough to know a person to be able to tell what’s wrong with them,” he muttered.

JJ’s look of confusion makes him shake his head and start at the beginning.

-

“So she’s been avoiding you until you went over there today?” 

Tea is poured into two cups and she sits in the chair next to him, listening to him continue his story.

“She said she had plans, but I thought I’d drop in and see if I could catch her. If not, I was going to leave a note under her door. We used to do that all the time,” he smiles ruefully.

“And she didn’t have any plans?”

“Didn’t seem like it. She was on the couch in pjs, watching TV and eating a carton of ice cream. I mean I thought she was on her period and—”

“Okay stop right there,” JJ set her cup down, holding up a hand.

“Never and I repeat never assume a girl is upset just because of her period.”

His browns wrinkled in confusion, “Why?”

“Just trust me Spence, it’ll save you a whole lot of time. Okay, continue.”

“Well, um, she said she wasn’t anyway. But then she just seemed...I don’t know, upset. I don’t know why. I don’t know if I did something. I was telling her that you felt bad about potentially affecting our friendship and I told her that she was always going to be my best friend and she threw me out.”

“Oh no,” JJ whispered.

“No, no it’s not your fault!” he rushed to explain.

“You idiot,” she groaned, hitting his shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You told her that she’d always be your best friend?!”

“Well...yeah, I mean it’s true. We’ve been friends forever like you and me.”

“That’s not all you and her have in common with you and me,” JJ stated.

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, running a finger around the lip of the mug.

“You know how when I confessed that I loved you?”

Spencer nods, still a little uncomfortable with the entire topic.

“I did mean it. I do love you. But there’s so many types of love, Spence. I may have been in love with you at one point and I’ll always have a love for you. But I’m not in love with you like I am with Will, but I do love you.”

“I’m not following. What does that have to do with me and Y/N?”

“She doesn’t just love you, Spence.”

She watches as realization slowly spreads across his face.

“She’s in love with you.”

“But how can you tell that when I never figured that out? You’ve only met her a few times anyway.”

“Spencer if you’d see the way she looks at you, you’d know.”

“Oh,” he breathed, running a hand over his face, “Oh wow.”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same,” she grimaced, “Because that might be a worse effect on your relationship with her than in our situation.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just- it kinda dawned on me when I was on the way to her place from work that all of this time I had hoped for a life with you when actually I don’t, really.”

Her brows rose, interested, motioning for him to go on.

“I mean, I love my life as it is now and how things are with you now. You’re happy and that makes me happy and I’d rather have a life with you as my best friend than have a life without you in it at all.”

JJ smiled, putting a hand on his cheek before pulling him into a hug.

“She makes you happy Spence. Catch her before she gets away.”

•

You haven’t seen or spoken to Spencer for over a week since your meltdown. You realized just how shitty you felt for treating him so horribly. It wasn’t his fault that you fell for him, so you shouldn’t have taken it out on him. 

You attempt several times to reach out to him to apologize, but stop yourself every time. What if he’s better off without you in his life?

Your week goes by in a blur as you live on autopilot, going to work, running errands and just living like a zombie. Your mind is filled with nothing but Spencer. All the memories you have with him float around in your brain like a collage, revealing themselves one by one.

One in particular will always stand out: the night that you realized you were in love with him.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Spencer to meet up for dinner after work. This evening in particular was a dreary one. It looked like it would pour at any moment.

You ordered a cheeseburger and fries while Spencer got a steak and veggies although that didn’t stop him from eating half of your fries.

“Hey!” You smacked his hand for the hundredth time after he snagged another fry.

“If you wanted fries that badly you should’ve just gotten them yourself,” you grumbled, only half mad.

“But for some reason they just always taste better off your plate,” he laughed, grabbing a couple more.

You grumble a response not loud enough to hear, but that just makes him laugh even more.

“You love me.”

“You’re lucky I do,” you smirk, swiping your finger through your puddle of ketchup and placing a blob on his nose when he reached for more fries.

“Did you just-” he wipes some off his nose, staring at you incredulously.

“Yes, yes I did.”

He grins and wipes it off with a napkin. He doesn’t take any more fries after that.

He drives you home since you took the subway from work. Of course with your luck it decides to pour right before you get home. You could dash to the front door of your building as fast as you can and still get soaked.

“Stay here for a second okay?” Spencer instructs.

You look at him quizzically as he gets out and runs across to your side, opening your door.

“I can get you to the door faster. Here.”

He helps you unbuckle your seatbelt and he picks you up, running with you in his arms and you shriek with laughter at the unexpected gesture.

True to his word, he got you there quickly and when you’re safely under the shelter of the roof of the front of your apartment building, he sets you down.

His hair is wet and dripping, falling into his eyes and drops of water fall off his face to his wet shirt and tie. You weren’t spared much either as your hair and clothes are just as soaked, but it could’ve been worse.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you chuckled.

“Hey, think of it as payback for the fries.”

You smile and are about to invite him up to dry off when he hands over a small styrofoam to go box. You hadn’t even realized he was holding it before he picked you up.

“What’s this?”

“Dessert. Your favorite. I figured you deserved it after I ate your fries.”

You grin, surprised and open the container briefly to peak at the chocolate cake that is your favorite from the restaurant.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

It was at that moment when you looked up at him and saw the twinkle in his eyes, the big smile on his face, water droplets running down his skin and in dripping wet clothes you realized that he was the most beautiful man, in more ways than one. 

A noise from what sounds like the hallway brings you out of your reverie. Walking toward the door from the kitchen you catch a glimpse of white.

Looking down, you notice it’s a folded piece of paper. You pick it up and open it to read it and your breath catches in your throat as you read the words in the all too familiar writing.

I love you, too.

You open the door, intent on finding the sender to find him standing in the hallway.

“Spencer,” you breathe.

“H-How? How did you know?” you asked.

“JJ helped me figure it out.”

You exhale, overwhelmed with what’s happening.

“I mean it when I say she never meant to come between us or to hurt our relationship.”

“No, I know,” you nod, your mind moving so fast you’re not entirely sure you’re processing everything.

“I never hated her or anything. I mean I couldn’t exactly blame her for, you know, loving you.” 

Somehow during the conversation he’s ended up in your apartment and you’d closed the door, although you’re not entirely sure when that happened.

“I was scared to open myself up to someone else,” he admits, “I didn’t know it consciously before the confession though. But I do now.”

You nod, looking up at him, startling the slightest when your back hits the wall. He’s got you quite literally backed into a corner.

“You want to know what’s funny though?”

“What?” you whisper.

Your breath is heavy, your chest heaving. The desire to kiss him is so strong, your desire to have him is even stronger. You’re hanging onto his every word and he knows it.

“That night when I dropped by, I was going to tell you that I realized I didn’t want a life with JJ.”

“You don’t?” 

You watch him, his tongue moving over his lips before he answers. You might’ve gone a little weak in the knees at the action.

“I like this life better.”

Then it’s happening. His head bends down towards yours and yours reaches up to meet his, your lips meeting. It’s a feeling beyond anything you could ever imagine. His lips are soft and gentle against your own and his hands caress your face before gliding down to rest on your neck. You decided if this was the way to die, kissing him until you had no breath left was a wonderful way to go.

“I’m,” he kisses you again.

“So,” followed by another kiss.

“Sorry,” he breathes, connecting your lips again.

“For what?” 

You’d pretty much forgive him for about anything right now as your brain has completely fizzled out the moment his lips connected with your neck. 

“Everything. For hurting you. I never intended to.”

He pulls back from you completely, his hands at the edge of your shirt, eyes seeking permission.

“It’s okay,” you answer both things at once.

Your eyes flicker to the piece of clothing as it hits the floor. You feel him lift you, his hands under the back of your thighs and your eyes meet his. Suddenly you feel timid in his presence, something you’ve never felt.

“I got you,” he whispered then pressed his lips against yours.

You’re not exactly sure how much time passed spent kissing, hands roaming, trying to memorize one another. Clothes melt away, kisses spread over bare skin.

When he’s finally inside you, your mind completely blanks of everything but him and this moment. You catch his lips again but you can’t stop the whimpers that come from you as he moves within you. 

Your fingers tighten in his hair as you kiss him harder, all your previous frustration, sadness and love poured into the one kiss. His hands grip your hips, his gentle movements becoming harsher.

With his lips pressed against your throat, he says, “I want to hear you say it.”

You half hum and half moan your questioning hmm.

“That you love me.”

His eyes lock on yours and he watches you, knowing you’re coming apart at his doing. 

“Oh God, Spencer,” your legs inadvertently tighten around his waist as you moan, “I love you.”

His low groan of approval is like music to your ears and sends tingles down your spine. That and his erratic thrusts about send you spiraling right then.

“Y/N,” he whispers, your name falling from his lips repeatedly as he loses himself in the wonderful feeling.

Your chest is heaving again and your body is tense, ready to succumb completely to him.

Fire explodes through your veins at a lightning speed and you moan loudly, most likely embarrassingly loudly but you couldn’t care. It’s Spencer, and like it’s always been, you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed about anything around him. 

Ecstasy takes its turn with him and you watch through lidded eyes at the complete look of abandon cross his face. With his eyes shut and lips parted there’s something so vulnerable about him as he completely loses himself in you.

“Spencer,” you whisper when you both have parted and caught your breath.

You’re watching him, a shy smile on your face as if you’ve dreamed this entire scenario.

“Hmm?” 

He’s set you down on the floor again and you have to rely on the wall to hold yourself up because your legs are nearly jello at this point.

He’s in the middle of grabbing up the clothes for you when he reaches out to steady you.

“Whoa there,” he chuckles, catching you before you can fall and most likely melt into a puddle.

“I love you,” you say again.

Now that you’ve actually said it out loud, you don’t want to stop saying it. With one arm still around your waist to steady you, his other hand brushes your cheek before pulling your face towards his for another kiss. His breath tickles your face when he speaks once again.

“I love you.”

[getinthering]

Traditions

[This is my first fic that I’ve published in years, but I’m pretty happy with it. Anyway,

Taang Week Day 1: Traditions @taangweek

Aang escapes to grieve his people, feeling lonelier than usual.]  

The Air Nomads are incredibly fortunate to have their culture preserved in such a beautiful way. 

The world has a gaping, empty hole without their presence, an entire way of life wiped out save for one boy.  And so it is an immense blessing, however small it may be, to have the four Air Temples left completely intact.  Aang is hopeful that one day, when the war is behind them and there is peace and trust between the nations, their intricate beauty can be shared with the rest of the world once more.  Perhaps there will come a day when people can live here again and learn the ways of the Air Nomads.

Maybe that is too hopeful, but it is a comforting thought on long and lonely nights when the feeling of how alone he is in the world weighs heavy on Aang.  From the moment he was told of his Avatar status, he became an outcast amongst his peers; but at least then, he was still surrounded by the airbending monks who had raised and grown up with him.  

Now, lying on a cot in the horrendously empty Western Air Temple, where once the female Air Nomads were raised and trained, the weight of his place in the world as the last airbender again bears on him.  True, he has his friends who have literally gone to the ends of the Earth for him.  They can’t, however, make up for the stinging ache in his chest as he takes note of the ways the paint has chipped and faded, the stone has cracked, the moss has overtaken the darkest corners of each room.  And so he finds comfort in dreams of what the Temples could look like after the war, teeming with life once more, him passing down the Air Nomads’ traditions to new groups of people, ensuring they will not be forgotten.

He has never dared to voice these dreams. 

They are not the only secret he keeps from the others, either.  When they first arrived at the Western Air Temple, he excitedly showed his friends around; he showed them the rooms where the girls and the higher monks slept, the dining areas, the training arenas, the spiritual commons, explaining in detail what he could remember from his last visit.  

Yet there is one room--attached to the bedroom he claimed as his own by a small corridor, hidden behind a jutting wall that blends into the rest of the room to the passing eye--that he kept to himself.  It is on nights such as these, when he is particularly mourning the loss of his race, that he ventures inside this room and sits on the dirty floor.  There are faded paintings on each of the walls, depicting Avatar Yangchen’s childhood in the Air Temple.  Aang smiles as he imagines her running through the halls with the other Nomad children, laughing as he had in those simpler days before he was shackled with the responsibility of being the Avatar.  

“Thought you said you were giving us the full tour,” a voice sounds behind him, making him jump.  He whirls around to see the familiar figure of a blind earthbender standing behind him.  

“Toph!” he exclaims, standing and brushing the dirt off his pants.  “How did you get in here?  How did you find me?”

She scoffs at that.  “Uh, I walked through the door, same as you.” She lifts one foot off the ground and points at it.  “I can see this whole place, remember?” Her brazen tone, tinged with harsh humor as always, is enough to shake some of his burning longing and let slip a chuckle.  She looks at him with her pale, sightless eyes and he is reminded that though she is blind, Toph sees more than any of them could ever dream of.  

“Wanna tell me why you’re keeping this place a secret?”  He starts to interject, but she cuts him off.  “Don’t lie to me, Twinkletoes.”

Aang’s smile slips away and he takes back his seat upon the floor, sighing.  “I don’t know.  I guess, I just...wanted part of the Air Nomads to myself for just a while.  It’s like...like a connection to my family and friends.  And I felt like, if I shared it with you guys, I wouldn’t have anywhere to go by myself to feel close to them.  It’s hard to explain, I guess.” 

There is a beat of silence.  To his surprise, Toph sits next to him, crossing her legs, close enough that their knees almost touch.  He expects a rough joke, maybe even an awkward dismissal and change of subject.  Instead, she places a hand on her own knee, gingerly reaching out to rest the tips of her fingers against his.  “I get that,” she says quietly.

He blushes, unsure of how to react.  He has seen Toph express a wide range of emotions, even something close to vulnerability, but never this.  Looking at her hand, he isn't even sure what to call it; the way her fingers arch over the small gap between them, all reaching to touch him, makes it clear the gesture isn't an accident.  

"What's in here?" She asks him, breaking his train of thought.  He is reminded that the room is all but empty, and a hollow sorrow invades his lungs, forcing out the air and threatening to drown him.  He can remember so clearly how this room once was.  He had visited the Western Air Temple with the monks a few short months before he was told that he was the Avatar, before he ran away, before he was frozen in an iceberg for 100 years while his people were slaughtered.  

The paintings of Yangchen were vivid then, well kept, colors bright enough to reflect her youthful joy.  The room had not been empty then.  It had been a small library of sorts, one of the many dedications throughout the Temple to the previous Air Nomad Avatar.  What he now calls his bedroom had been the main library, filled to the ceiling with books on varying topics transcribed from around the world.  This room, however, had been home to scrolls and artifacts from Yangchen herself.  There were once cushions upon the floor surrounding a small table for the monks who maintained the library to complete their studies.  Nearly every inch of the room had either displays of what few earthly possessions Yangchen kept throughout her life or scrolls composed of letters to and from the Avatar, writings about her life and the impacts she had.

All of that is gone now, destroyed by the Fire Nation all those years ago.  

"This was a library for Avatar Yangchen," he says lamely, unsure how to release all the grief he has caged up inside of him.

"So, you come and sit in a completely empty room because it used to be a library dedicated to your past life?" She asks, less gentle than before, sounding more like the Toph he is used to.  

"No!  I mean, it's not completely empty."  He describes the beautiful, if decrepit, paintings they now sit before, trying his best to do them justice for the girl who otherwise wouldn’t know they are there.  He pauses and looks at her.

"They make me feel happy.  I don't know if I really remember Yangchen’s life or if it's just my own memories, but either way, they remind me of my childhood and what it was like to grow up with the monks.  These paintings, they're some of the only ones left in the world depicting Air Nomads that were actually made by Air Nomads."

"You come in here to feel connected to them when you really feel like you're alone," she says, more of a statement than a question.  Aang nods, sliding his hand across his leg until it just barely grazes her fingertips.  

"I mean, obviously I always carry it with me, but sometimes it just really hits me that I'm the last one.  It's my responsibility to carry on the traditions of my entire culture, and I don't know if I can do that.  That's a lot of pressure and it's not even taking account for all the other pressures I have."

Both of them are silent for a while.  Aang contemplates everything he's gotten off his chest just now.  He thought he would feel violated, in a way, if anyone ever found him in here, but in actuality, he feels like a lot of his grief has been freed.  He knows it is only temporary, that it will return sooner or later, but he is grateful.  He's shared a lot of his longing for his people with Katara and Sokka, but they never really got it the way he wanted them to: Sokka just didn't know how to relate, wasn't comfortable enough with his own feelings, and Katara always pitied him and felt like she needed to baby him.  

Toph, on the other hand, took it in stride.  She always lets him air his troubles and tries to share them.  He doesn't think he’s ever properly appreciated that about her until right now.  He looks at her hand, still touching him as slightly as she possibly could, and wonders what it would be like to hold it.  

She inclines her head towards him and asks, "So what does that mean?  How do you plan to carry on your traditions?”

“Well...I’d like to restore the Air Temples first, I guess, when all this is over.  Maybe I’ll find some followers who would listen to the history and ways of the monks, even help restore some of the scrolls and artwork.”  Aang finds himself blushing and bowing his head, embarrassed by the vulnerable thoughts he had never told anyone until now.  For a moment, he is afraid Toph will tease him, point out all the flaws in his ideas, scold him for dreaming of this when he is days away from fighting the Fire Lord.

Instead, he suddenly finds her hand on top of his, fingers squeezing gently.  He lifts his head in surprise to see her offering a small smile.

“Well, you’ve found your first follower.  So you’d better start teaching.”

[sinsbymanka]

This is a submission for the @cozy-autumn-prompts​ event, brainchild of the lovely @scharoux​. Thank you for the amazing prompts! @tightassets​ and I submit the following art (belonging to her talented hands) and fic (my doing) for prompt #4: By The Fire.

Title: It’ll be a Hell of a Story Rating: M Pairing: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Maria Cadash/Varric Tethras Tags: Flirting, UST, Fantasizing, Pre-Relationship, Non-Inquisitor Cadash

Read on AO3

It should have been a simple problem.

Simpler than the breach swirling threateningly above them, at any rate.

They’d managed to survive the whole world going to shit, but that massive hole in the sky was still gonna be a problem they needed to solve. Sooner rather than later. And to do that, they needed people. Soldiers. Mages. Weapons.

Lyrium.

And whenever someone said ‘lyrium’, they always looked at the dwarf. Like the humans and their skirts and their wars hadn’t upset the whole damn lyrium trade. Varric debated throwing his hands up and washing them of the whole thing.

Demons. Holes in the sky. Templars. Mages. None of it was really his cup of ale.

But there had been red lyrium in the temple. And that… well, that was his problem. He’d put it out in the world. He was responsible for the spark that ignited the fire, and now he had to deal with the inferno. Besides. He could find a lyrium dealer with one hand tied behind his back, right?

He could kick himself for his optimism.

Ruffles couldn’t get the Merchant’s Guild or Orzammar to play ball, not a surprise. Too much risk to sell to this ragtag bunch on top of a mountain, not enough reward. Even Varric wouldn’t be able to pull enough strings to make it work, which meant he needed the Carta.

Of course, the one time in his life he wanted them to appear, they were nowhere to be found. Frankly, that was suspicious. There’d been Carta crawling all over Haven when he arrived, it didn’t take much to see their signs. Dwarven marks carved into cabins to mark drop points. Snow clearly brushed back to cover paths. Several short, shady dwarves in the tavern that kept to themselves while they played cards.

If he’d have known he’d need them later, he would have said hello. He’d been too worried about spinning tales to make the chantry dance to his tune and trying to ingratiate himself to both sides of this damn mess so he could get back to Kirkwall with his fine dwarven chest hair intact.

Maybe they’d all died in the aftermath of the temple exploding. He’d seen a couple Dwarven corpses, but not enough to make up a whole crew, and there’d been multiple operating in Haven. Did that mean the rest fled?

Varric scratched his stubble while he picked his way down the icy, gravel path. His eyes still roamed, trying to find any signs of seedy deals lingering in the shadows, but all he saw were scared refugees and soldiers not even old enough to grow a beard. The wind cut through them all and they scurried past without even looking down at the dwarf.

Well. Back to his fire to regroup and think of another plan before he froze into a nice chunk of rather handsome ice.

Honestly, it was hard to believe that somebody didn’t look at the chaos and see profit to be made. They didn’t make Carta as tough as they used to, apparently. Where were all the tough, savvy business people? The clever rogues able to stay one step ahead of all the competition? What about someone who could look at this mess and decide to chip in, if only because that hole in the world threatened everything?

Varric scoffed to himself and shoved his hands in his coat. Carta dwarf with a heart of gold? He’d grow a beard first.

He sighed and turned the corner, letting his eyes drift covetously to the fire not twenty paces away.

And almost stumbled to a complete stop. There was a woman sitting on his bench, next to his abandoned supplies, munching on a flaky pastry while flipping through his book.

A dwarven woman. One that looked like the right kind of shady he’d been trying to locate all damn day.

But the cunning tip of her head as she read, the blade on her thigh, the sheer audacity of her, was nothing notable. Not compared to the curves accentuated by her snug breeches and the tempting swell of her breasts tantalizingly framed by a shirt not quite as scandalous as his, but close. Her red hair was braided away from her face, but wisps of it danced in the wind, tickled her freckled nose.

She lifted her eyes from the page and locked eyes with him. Hers crackled with intelligence, energy, and absolutely wicked satisfaction.

At a glance he knew three things. First. She was Carta. Second. She’d been watching him look for her.

Lastly, and most importantly, she was the best kind of trouble. And that made her more dangerous than she even knew.

She didn’t break eye contact, didn’t even bother to drop his pilfered book. Instead, she raised her snack to her lips and took a slow bite, watching him watch her like she was a queen upon her throne and him some lowly petitioner.

And honestly, that was the right of it. Which shouldn’t make him think of getting on his knees and throwing those shapely thighs over his shoulders, but dammit he hadn’t expected to find the most gorgeous woman in the world in the middle of the Ferelden muck.

She lifted his book, tipped her head to the side, and smirked. “It’s not bad, but you’re sodding verbose, Tethras. You should probably get a better editor.”

Every thought in his mind screeched to a halt, replaced by one word.

Minx.

“Sorry my personal belongings aren’t up to snuff, Princess. I’ll leave better material out for you to peruse next time.” Thank Andraste his mouth was still working, because he’d lost control of his feet completely, dragged towards her like a victim of an unseen mage.

She snapped the book shut and tossed it easily onto the ground, ignoring his nickname to pat the bench beside her. It was a clear invitation, and he almost forgot how absurd it was to be invited to sit on his bench. Almost.

“I’ve been looking for the Carta all damn day.” He narrowed his eyes, making a show of grumbling displeasure to hide his ridiculous glee.

Her only answer was a sly smirk and to recline back on one palm. “I know. I was watching.”

“See something you like?” He gestured at himself, watching her stormy eyes drop from his face down his stocky body, lingering pointedly on his displayed chest. Then she swept a burning path back to his face.

“It’s not a terrible view.” She admitted.

He smiled at her. The most charming, brilliant smile he could summon. The same one that had many a fine dwarven barmaid tumbling over themselves to get him another glass of ale. His redheaded temptress only gave him a predatorial smirk in return.

“Should I assume you’re here for business?” He asked.

Or pleasure.

He didn’t dare say it. Not to her. There was something… something about her that made him pause, consider her carefully. Something that screamed if he gave her that power over him, he’d regret it the rest of his life.

It was the eyes. Must have been. He’d never seen a more endless set of eyes in his damn life.

“I’m curious.” She declared, tapping her free hand on the bench while she studied him. “I was on my way out, you know. Too much crazy religion for my taste.”

“The Chantry freaks you out more than the demons?”

“I can shoot the demons. It’s frowned upon to start murdering old women squawking at me, but they are annoying.”

She wrinkled her nose in evident distaste and something flipped in his stomach. The wind picked up again and took more of the hair from her braid, whipped it across her cheeks.

He had the sudden, maddening urge to trace his gloved fingers over her jaw and tuck it back behind the shell of her ear before cupping her cheek and drawing her sweetly towards him in a passionate kiss that-

She was either far too clever for her own good or used to inspiring a chaotic inferno of lust wherever she went, because she clearly saw the direction his thoughts veered off into. And all the woman did was bit her lower lip between her teeth to stifle a laugh he was sure would be throaty and sinful.

Yeah. He definitely didn’t need to sit down next to her on the bench. He needed three feet of space between her and him at all times to stop himself from doing something stupid.

His legs didn’t get the memo.

He plopped his ass right next to her, their thighs touching teasingly, but she didn’t bother moving. Instead, she simply eyed him with a distinct blend of wariness and interest. He sensed it would take more than his roguish charm to break down that caution, but he didn’t need to do all of it now.

He was used to playing the long game, after all.

“What’s your name, Princess?”

“Cadash.” Varric’s heart leapt in triumph. That was a good name for lyrium. A very good name. It was about time he had some good luck.

Then she added the kicker. “Maria Cadash.”

Oh. Oh they had hit the fucking vein with this one. They didn’t just have Cadash clan operating in Haven, they had one of the fucking heirs to the whole pot. A winning hand, if he played it right.

“Nanna sent me a letter telling me to get the hell out of dodge before the humans blew up the sky. Again.” She smirked, shaking her head. “But I’d just gotten comfortable.”

“We can keep you quite comfortable, Princess.” Varric insisted. Maker, he had hit the nail on that head with her nickname. He had bonafide Carta royalty on his hands and he’d do well not to lose her.

She leaned forward, her shirt dipping open with the motion, drawing his eyes for just a second and making him think of other things he could have in his hands. Because he was weak. A weak, weak man.

Maria held his gaze, brought the sweet back up to her mouth, and bit into the flaky dough. His eyes flew to the sugar dusting her pretty lips. He had half a mind to lean in and kiss it off.

“You know, those are bad for you. Not a single apple actually in them, Princess.” Varric rasped.

Maria slowly licked the sugar off her bottom lip. “I only like things that are bad for me, honestly.”

Varric leapt on her admission of weakness. “Well in that case, why not supply the Inquisition? You couldn’t make a more dangerous decision if your life depended on it. Think of the rush of danger. The cloak and dagger thrill. The late night missions and secret assignations…”

He sweetened his voice to the same low, cajoling tone he’d used on templar, guards, coterie, and all the worst of Kirkwall. She watched his mouth move with rapt attention, her snack forgotten.

Varric didn’t know how his arm slipped behind her back, but suddenly his palm was on the curve of her spine in a gesture that seemed carelessly intimate. Maria didn’t pull away. Their knees touched, her chin tipped up, and for a wild moment Varric waited for her to lean in and capture his mouth.

Instead, her smile curled up like the fire they sat beside. She tore her eyes from his to look at it with a shake of her head.

“It’ll cost you.” She warned. “This is risky. Risky isn’t cheap.”

Some things were worth paying any price for, weren’t they?

“We’ll find the coin.” He promised. “And you get to stay at the center of the action, just like you want.”

Her eyebrow climbed up her forehead. “You think I want to be underneath a spiraling hole in the bleedin’ world freezing my tits off?”

“Of course you do.” He stated, picking up an abandoned mug and holding it out to her in a silent toast. “It’s gonna be a hell of a story, Princess. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Just the slightest bit of her wariness fell away, revealing a wicked glint of humor and a spark of madness he’d seen too often in a dozen other brilliant women when they had made up their mind to have an adventure with or without him.

“No.” She declared with relish. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.”