#vi walked into her world and she never saw straight again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

babylooneytoonz · 4 years ago

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Curly Hair and Blue Eyes, Just like yours

Pairing: Clark Kent x Fem! Reader

Summary: You decide to tell Clark Kent about the daughter he never knew he had with you, and he only wishes he had found out about her in a better situation.

Warnings: Kidnapping , Violence, Angst

[My Masterlist]

"Baby, we gotta go, come on out now," You called from the kitchen, having stuffed Piper's lunchbox into her tiny little bag that you had now propped on your shoulder. Little feet raced down the staircase of your home and you smiled, when you saw the little blue eyed girl, her hair neatly settled into two pigtails on either sides of her head, poked her head in. You knelt down in front of her, helping her put her bag on.

"Mommy? I wanna have Uncle Jerry's apple pie— " You smiled as you stood back up, quickly kissing the top of her head, as you took her hand in yours, your fingers clasping against the five year old's tiny ones.

"Well, if you are a good girl at school today, mommy might think of baking you one instead for dessert," you smiled down at her as the two of you walked out of your tiny two bedroom apartment in a tiny, cramped street in Metropolis where you had lived for years. You buckled her into the passenger seat, laughing to yourself listening to her as she had decided that now was the time to speak to her doll.

Being a single mother, there was so much on your plate always. Your days started with leaving Piper at Kindergarten, heading straight to the grocery store where you worked after leaving her. Four hours later you drove back to her school, picked her up and brought her back to the store with you, where you fed her and let her play around at the back, until 4 pm when finally, you ended your shift and the two of you drove your way back home.

You straightened the crease on your shirt, leaning against the fence along with the other young mothers who were waiting to collect their wards from kindergarten, just like you were until the bell rang somewhere inside, and a flurry of kids arrived, like bees floundering in the air.

You knelt down, throwing your arms out at the sight of your daughter who pushed herself into you, and you kissed her on her nose, and she giggled.

"Mommy, guess who vi- vitit— " She stammered, trying to say the word but she couldn't.

"Visited?" You asked, smiling at her, and she nodded.

"Visi- ted today."

You pulled yourself up, taking her hand in yours as you began walking with her towards the car parking, glancing down at her every ten seconds or so.

"Superman!!" She excitedly screamed, clapping as you opened the car door for her. The smile that was earlier on your lips dropped at the mention of him, and instead, a hollow look now ghosted your eyes as you regarded her briefly, giving her a fake smile and nodded, buckling her into the passenger seat, "Hm, I see. Why was he there?"

The car ride back to the store was a quiet one from your end, where only Piper spoke telling you of how the Superman had visited the kindergarten today, spent time with the children, telling them how they all were strong enough to grow up and be Supermen and Superwomen themselves. There were times when you snorted, not win disbelief, quickly masking it with a fake laugh, listening to your daughter talk about him.

You hated him, atleast you thought you did. You realized, the more you listened to her describe, Clark Kent was just the same— just the way you remembered him to be six years ago, when you had last met him.

How were you supposed to tell the innocent little child what Superman used to be to you?

Six years back, he had left you, leaving you broken hearted, and had walked out of your life, without giving you a reason as to where had you gone wrong in your relationship with him. No matter how much you tried, pleading and begging him to reconsider, it appeared as though he had already made up his mind.

"[Y/N], this will hurt for a while, and then you will be okay, trust me."

How the hell were you supposed to trust him when he was the one responsible for the excruciatingly painful heartbreak that you had witnessed?

You watched him, followed the news, watching every single success that Superman attained, his face plastered to your television screen, his charming boyish smile tugging at your heartstrings but you still felt happy, knowing how he was saving the world. Although, ironically, he had done nothing to save your crumbling relationship.

You would have still forgiven him, had you not found out, just a month after he had left you, that you were pregnant.

At first, you thought that Clark deserved to know— after all, he had every right to be in his child's life, and you were no one to take that boon away from him, or your child. Sucking it up, you had forced yourself to go to the Daily Planet building, to talk to Clark, to tell him what you had found out.

You didn't. You couldn't. Because he looked happy with Lois Lane. So you left.

Your home smelt like a freshly baked apple pie, as you stood against the kitchen counter, the baked goodie laying in front of you just like you had promised your little girl. Outside, in the living room, you could hear the television on, as Piper watched her favourite cartoon, her chuckling audible to you, which made you smile. Your golden retriever, Berry, nudged her head against your leg, causing you to bend slightly so you could pet the top of her head before she scampered off to be with her best friend once more.

"Piper, baby. Berry wants to go out."

The little girl dashed into the kitchen upon hearing your words, her excited eyes glimmering with delight as she began looking up at you.

"Mommy, can I take her out?"

You thought for a minute, planning to refuse at first but then you gave up, because the two of you, your baby girl and your furry baby both looking at you with big, googly eyes that you couldn't resist.

"Fine but stay close to the front gate, and inside. There's a lot of traffic outside, love. Mommy's gonna be watching you from the window here, alright?" You gave her a smile, watching as the two of them walked off, the dog first, followed by the girl— smiling at how considerate the big dog was around her tiny form.

While you were readying the plates, setting the dinner table, you momentarily made sure to glance out of the window, from where you could see them both, running around, being the big goofballs the two of them were. What you failed to see, was a dark hooded man, standing by your fence, watching the girl carefully, observing.

A few minutes passed by, and you decided that it was time to go out and fetch the two back inside, when you heard Berry mediating between loud barks, and pained whines. Your eyes widened, as you ran out of the house, on bare foot, the pads of your feet grazing against the grass when you saw two men, throwing your daughter into the back of a car, Berry having tied ruthlessly by her neck to the tree, the hold so hard that she was almost suffocating. By the time you ran to the gate the car was already turning down the street, until it finally disappeared out of view and you fell to your knees, screaming, crying, your heart pounding inside your chest. Someone had taken your daughter.

Finally, after two minutes of screaming your heart out, you leapt to your feet freeing Berry from the leash that had her pinned to the tree, tears still streaming down your face as you ran inside, grabbing your phone and your car keys.

There was only one who could bring her back, and there was nothing stopping you from asking from his help, because only he could do it— find her from whichever corner of Metropolis they were hiding her and bring her back.

At some time between you driving recklessly through the streets of Metropolis to the time you finally reached the Daily Planet building once again, the sky started pouring, heavily. You parked your car in the parking lot opposite to the building and without caring, you stepped out into the rain, racing your way into the building.

"Clark Kent, please, it's urgent," you literally slammed your moist fists against the desk of the office receptionist, her eyes widening when she saw the condition you were in— your hair and your outfit drenched in the rain, sticking to you, your body trembling with cold.

"Uh, sure, but who do I say is asking for him?"

"[Y/N], and please, tell him it's urgent."

You began rubbing the side of your arms fervently, trying to keep yourself warm, as the receptionist pulled the receiver to her ears, and looked up at you briefly, "Mr. Kent, a Miss [Y/N] is here. She, uh, says it's urgent, and it does look like she is in a state of.. emergency."

The receptionist disconnected the phone, slowly placing the receiver back. She looked up at you, and informed you that Clark was on his way now to see you. You began biting the insides of your cheeks— a sudden nervousness killing you from the inside. How were you going to tell him? What if he refused to help you? Where was Piper? All kinds of depressive thoughts began to sneak into your head when his silhouette finally appeared, his eyes falling on you as he was walking towards you.

Clark Kent pushed his glasses nervously over the bridge of his nose, his heart racing. He wasn't sure, why after all those years you were here to see him, and that too, this urgently. He hoped you were okay. When he stepped out of his office, his eyes fell on you. His heart broke, yet again, on the sight of you— you were dripping from head to toe, your body shivering due to the cold. His pace increased, until he was literally running towards you, his eyes fixed on yours.

"Clark." You began, only to find yourself give in, to nerve wracking sobs as he pulled you into his embrace, letting his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him, as he soothingly rubbed your back, thousands of memories flooding back into both your minds.

"Listen to me, there's something you should know," you hicupped, still crying hysterically. Clark slowly walked you away from the crowd that had now gathered around you and him until the two of you were in an empty cabin. He lowered you in a leather chair and pulled one in front of you, letting his palms rest on your knees, "Whats wrong?"

"I didn't know who else to go to, I -- Clark," you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, you didn't know how to begin. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, or tried to, but the heaviness of your chest couldn't let you breathe, "Someone took my daughter, right from in front of my eyes. Two men, dressed in black, they came and they took her, stuffed her into their car, Clark, I don't know where to find her, what to do."

Clark's face fell— it was as though someone had cut off his oxygen supply— what else was he expecting? That you would wait for him all your life? He looked at you in a strangled way, his eyes narrowed at you, but he wasn't angry. He just looked hurt. The hands that were resting on your knees slowly pulled away and you winced at the loss of the contact, looking up at him through your teary eyes. He pressed his lips together and parted his lips, "Do you have any idea who could have —"

"No, I— Who could mean harm to an innocent little five year old, Clark? She can't even hurt a fly." You cried.

"Five.. five year old?" Clark croak, as if something was lodged inside his throat.

"Five years, and a few months to be exact.." you whispered, as your fingers gently pulled out your wallet, and inside was a picture of your beautiful little girl, her long black hair, just like Clark's curled atop her matted head. She was a true replica of him, having his luscious curls, big blue eyes and the kindest of the smiles. You slowly extended the wallet towards him, your hand trembling as your heart beat like a supersonic train. "That's— that's her, Piper ..Kent?"

Clark stepped abruptly from the chair, his fingers clasping your wallet. Weakly, he looked down at the photo, the realization sinking into him. The eyes that looked back at him from the photo were the same eyes, he didn't need proof to believe that she was his.

"Clark, I know you have questions but this isn't the time, please help me, they took her! I — I need Superman.. she needs Superman.." You pleaded him, with your eyes, looking at him.

The next minute, Clark had his hand on your shoulder, as he was walking you out of the cabin, his eyes not meeting yours.

"Get back home, incase they call for ransom or something. I will get her back."

What you didn't see when you were on your way out, was the way Clark broke down after you left. He lowered himself to his knees, watching you walk off until he had both his hands pulling at his own hair, his eyes glowing with the heat vision, his body suddenly on fire.

Two days passed, and with these two days, whatever sanity that was left within you, drained out, anxiety taking over completely. You went to the Daily Planet, looking for Clark, but he wasn't there— of course he was out looking for her. But it still didn't let you rest any easier.

By the time it was nightfall, you were pacing around in your living room, your kitchen a mess, dirty utensils from two days back still soiling the sink. Your hair were a mess as you had not bothered even running a hand through them, for you were completely shaken and distraught.

Just when you thought that your mind will probably burst with the amount of worry that was eating at you, the doorbell rang. You ran— it was like running a life marathon— as you unlocked the door, finding Superman standing at your doorstep, holding Piper in his arms, the little girl having her arm locked around Superman's neck, her face glimmering with excitement.

"Oh my fucking—" you cursed under your breath, sniffling in retaliation to the sight and n front of you as you threw out your arms towards her, "Piper, baby! You're okay! Jesus, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I should have been careful— "

"Mommy, do you know that Superman saved me from the bad men?" You gasped, almost wide eyed as Piper leapt into your arms, and you buried your face into your daughter's hair, nuzzling your nose against her face, holding her tight, as though if you didn't, she would slip away. What suprised you, and sort of, made you smile was her innocence — she was kidnapped and probably locked up somewhere and yet all she could think of or talk about was how Superman had saved her life. Your eyes flew to his, meeting his halfway, you could see how exhausted he looked, and a look passed between the two of you— a look of love that had been buried years back— the two of you didn't need words, and the two of you could feel how the other one felt — probably a mix of relief, anger and a lot of questions.

"Yes, he did—" You smiled, "Are you okay, Piper? Love, are you hurt?"

"She's— " Superman began speaking, and you looked at him once again, "She's fine. She isn't hurt, I made sure."

You bit your lip, your fingers toying with your daughter's curls. Finally, you stepped inside, leaving the door wide open, glancing at Superman with the corner of your eyes, "I know you want to to talk. Please, come in."

"Mommy? Is Superman staying with us tonight?"

"Piper, darling, would you go and check on Berry? She's not feeling well ever since you left—" You placed her on the floor, carefully eyeing her for any injuries, but much to your relief, there were none.

"Alright, mommy."

"You should have told me, [Y/N]. She's mine too!"

You gasped, almost inaudible, trying to suck in a mouthful of air as you fixed yourself by the window, looking out, almost cautiously, your mind still in a state of alert. When Clark saw this, he walked up to where you were, staring out of the window, and you saw his reflection behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he turned you around, "they won't come back, [Y/N]. I made sure of it."

"Who were they? What did they want?" You frowned, his hands still on your shoulders but you didn't seem to mind.

"They weren't anyone of importance, they did it for ransom, having randomly decided to kidnap her and ask you for money. How were they supposed to know they kidnapped my daughter? Like hell, I didn't know I had a daughter," he almost froze, letting his hands drop, his eyes now looking at you for answers.

You took a deep breath, running your hands through your hair, almost pulling at them in an attempt to straighten them a little, but Clark grabbed your arm, his grip on your wrist as he lowered it, showing you how his patience was wearing thin.

"You left me, Clark. Just because I was pregnant, it didn't mean I was selfish to use her as a means to get you back, or to burden you with her responsibility." You hissed, trying to pull on your wrists, but of course, how were you to match the Kryptonian's strength?

"I would have never left if I knew—"

"And this, Clark, is exactly why I didn't want you to find out. I didn't want you to decide to stay with me because.. of a baby," you had begun pacing in the living room now and Clark just stood by the window, his arms crossed against his chest, "You would have hated me one day." Suddenly, you stopped speaking and your eyes widened, your head sharply turning towards him and a thin frown appearing on his sublime features. The next minute, you were glaring at him, poking him in the chest with your index finger, "Before accusing me of hiding this from you, how would you justify you leaving me without giving me the reason? You didn't care about me, you didn't care about the fact that I cried myself to sleep for weeks, inwardly tortured for months. How very hypocritical of you, Mr. Kent."

He grabbed your hand, however his hold remained gentle on you. Very slowly, he twisted your arm behind you, stepping closer, in a way pinning you to the wall behind, looking down at you. He then scoffed— a dry, sarcastic scoff.

"I left you because I had no choice. Luthor took Lois—"

"Oh, great, Lois, and that's why you left me—"

"He took Lois because he thought Lois is the woman I'm with. You realize what this means? If he knew or find out it was you, he would have thrown you off that building. I couldn't have lived with that. I did it for you!"

Tears streamed down your face, his words finally sinking in. You parted your lips and all that came out was a gush of air. Clark placed his hand on your cheek, reluctantly, half expecting for you to push it away, but you didn't. His fingers felt hot against your skin, like embers as he cupped your face, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

"I came..one month after you left me .. to your office ..when I found out.. wanted to tell you," He nodded, blinking as he waited for you to continue. "I saw you with Lois. You looked happy, the two of you."

"Lois is just a friend, I never—" he frowned, his hand dropping from your cheek as he ran his fingers through his own hair, his exasperation evident, "It was always you."

"I can't believe this, Clark. I fucking cried myself to sleep thinking you hated me," you sniffled, falling back against your couch like a lifeless corpse, bringing both your palms to your face as you buried yourself to those, hiding yourself from his intense eyes, "That girl—" You looked up, your cheeks now stained with your tears, "she is more you than she is me. In every single way. I needed you Clark Kent."

"I'm sorry, I should never have —"

"Six years, Clark. You missed her birth, you missed watching her grow up, she was without you, and we were okay, you know? And now this happens and my life is a mess once again—"

He looked at you, dejected, his glances mediating between the floor to you and then back down to his hands. Finally, he cleared his throat, and you looked up at him, looking at the beaten Superman in front of you. He was everything but the strong superhero you knew in that split second. He was a broken man— just a man— in a spandex costume.

"If I could go back and change what I did, I'd do it in a blink of my eye."

You smiled, and replied, "It's easy to say. It wasn't your fault, though. It was perhaps, we were never meant to be."

His face fell, and he didn't try to hide it from you. You bit your lip, tasting the metal on your tastebuds as he slowly took a step away, his eyes moving from you to the stairs, perhaps hoping that he could see Piper before he left.

"If something ever happens, if you need me, I'll be there, [Y/N]. I couldn't be there when you needed me, but I'll be there from now until you don't need me anymore."

Would it ever happen when you won't need him any more? You never truly moved on, no matter how hard you tried. The void remained, in your heart, in your life and in your cold bed. Six years , and you couldn't make yourself fall in love with anyone, because no one was Clark Kent, they could never be him.

"Leaving us again, are you?" You wiped your tears with the back of your palm, and he looked at you, suprised as though he had heard you wrong.

You smiled and you looked down at your hands, they were trembling as you rubbed them fervently against the fabric of your thigh, and stood up, hesitantly at first, before a little confidence built up inside you when you saw the softness in his eyes as you walked towards him. This time you pinned him to the wall, and the taller man let you, without even trying to attempt to escape or show you just strong he was. He let himself be entrapped as you grabbed his chin, rather unceremoniously, yanking his head so he was looking down.

"Don't you want me to—" he stopped talking, finally realizing what you were trying to say to him.

"Six years, I watched you on TV, and that's just it. That was the nearest I had to feeling anything. Is this what true love is? You know someone isn't coming back yet you can't stop loving em?"

He smiled, but didn't reply. He just kept gazing into your eyes.

"Go on, go. The world needs you, Superman."

You smacked him on his chest, watching his eyes to shift to confusion once again. Awkwardly, he tilted his head to his side and shook his head, only his chin moving.

"And you? You don't?" He asked.

"No." You smiled smugly, watching his face fall, so you hurriedly added, "I need Clark Kent, not Superman. He is very broody, and I am scared of him. I would rather have my Clark back."

He gave you a toothy smile, and in that minute, he wasn't Superman anymore. He was your Clark Kent, only in a spandex costume. He wrapped you in your arms , pulling you to him, bringing down his lips to the side of your jaw, as he kissed your chin at first, and then moved on to your lips. Your lips met his, after a long time, and your insides exploded, your hands flying to the back of his head.

"Mommy!"

Clark cleared his throat, and you immediately pulled away wiping your lips and the two of you looked at each other, both your cheeks a slight crimson. You two felt like a child again, having been caught stealing cookies and Clark smiled, sitting down until he was squatting on his heels. He threw out his hand towards Piper and she ran up to him, settling herself on his thigh.

Clark looked up at you, and so did she, and you couldn't help but give them a warm smile back, because the sight was melting your heart. It was like a mini me, Clark and his little female version, looking right at you with that big blue eyes.

"What?" You asked Clark.

"Shall we tell her? Shall I tell her?"

"No, Superman." You changed your voice, grabbing him by his Cape as you pulled him up, "I don't want targets on her back. Why don't you just go on out, change into some human clothes and then we can tell her who her father is."

"But sweetheart, it's a little too late for that don't you think?" He pointed towards Piper, and your head shot towards her, you jaw almost dropping when you saw her eyes turn orange due to the heat vision, just for a bit before they turned blue again, and Superman slid his arm through your waist.

"It's okay, let them find out, Superman has a family. They still can't touch a hair on your head, not until I'm around. And I'm not..going anywhere."

"No, sweety," you gave him an apologetic smile, "that's not what I'm worried about. I'm worried she's gonna go to school and boast around how her dad's Superman."

"Well, they are going to find out, one day or the other."

"You're right, Clark." You nodded, as the two of you watched her scamper off, chasing Berry, you leaning on to him.

A/N- Fuck, I realised I really got carried away with this one. I think this is the longest one shot I've ever written? I thought I'd break it into parts but oh well. I hope you guys liked it.

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #superman #clark kent #kal-el x reader #clark kent x y/n #clark kent x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill

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unloved-cadillac · 4 years ago

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I love you works!! I have a request for a Soulmate AU with Levi! Where you’re born seeing gray and once you meet your soulmate you can see colors but also when one dies the colors go away and you see gray again. Well his S/O gets badly injured one day and while trying to save her his vision goes gray so he is completely distraught but something happens and he’s able to make her heart start again so his colors are back but he’s still upset for awhile and once she recovers he’s super protective of her because he never wants to see gray again.

C/n: I fucking love soulmate AUs man. Thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

——————————————————————————

Never Again. (Levi x Reader)

The day Levi met Y/n, his whole world brightened up. No, literally. All his life until the moment he met her, he saw grey. The black and white world seemed so cold and to hate him. He never really understood the way of a soulmate, thought it was a load of crap.

But on that fateful day, when he helped the cadets and made eye contact with her, his world brightened up. Beautiful colors flowed throughout the fields and Y/n saw color too. He took Y/n away from everyone and asked if she could see color too. And when she nodded, Levi so desperately wanted to kiss her. But they had just met, so the kiss waited until they knew each other properly.

Now, 3 years later with his soulmate next to him, the squad was on a mission to clear the Titans from the west of the wall. “Keep your heads up! These fuckers appear outta nowhere.” Y/n says and Levi smirks. She even acts like him. Y/n’s half split away from Levi’s and she shot him a wink before leading the squad. He rolled his eyes but smiled at her affection.

Abnormals suddenly appeared and everyone got to work. Levi slayed four while others paired to take down one each. Before long, their side was cleared and were heading to Y/n’s side. As he rode, a feeling bubbles up inside him. A feeling he has never felt in all his years. A gut-wrenching pain that made him want to vomit. ‘Is Y/n okay?’

“Captain Levi! Captain Levi!” A soldier yells as he rides towards Levi. “What is it?”

“It’s L/n, sir. A titan caught her and were lucky enough to take it down. But she isn’t in good shape, sir.” Levi’s eyes widen and slapped the reins on his horse. He flew straight to her as fast he the horse would take him. ‘Fuck. This cannot be happening. Not again.’

Levi saw a group of soldiers surround his love and he pushes them aside as he looked at her. “Y/n? Y/n, hey. It’s me.” He speaks and cups her face. “L...Le...vi.” She groans out and he looks at her injuries. He was about to speak when his vision began to alter. Some spaces around him turned grey and he get his heart stop. “No. No, help her. Get the med kit!” He shouts to the cadets and then turns back to her, “Y/n, baby. Stay with me. Keep talking to me.” He begs as he holds her wounds. She just stares back him with droopy eyes and Levi quickly began to wrap her up in bandages the cadets brought.

“Hey,” he says a bit harshly, “do NOT fall asleep on me. Don’t you dare.” Y/n smiles and holds his frantic hands. “I..lo...ve y-you.” She whispers and he shakes his head, eyes burning with tears. “I’ll say it back when you’re in bed, healing. Don’t close your eyes, baby. Stay with me. Please.” No one has ever heard the Captain Levi’s voice falter before. But when it’s life and death and when it came to his soulmate, nothing really mattered except for her.

As Levi was helping her, everything turned dark.

He picked his head up and everything was black and white. “No.” He whispers and looks down at Y/n. He placed his hand on her chest. He didn’t feel it. Her heartbeat. The song that played which helped him sleep. The rhythm he feel in love with.

“Y/N! Don’t you fucking dare!” He yells out and begins compressions. This sight..this grey. It was like a nightmare. He didn’t want this. He couldn’t live without her. “28, 29, 30!” Levi presses his ear against her chest. No pulse. “Fucking GODAMMIT Y/N!”

In his rage he bangs her chest with his fist and lays his forehead on her. “Don’t leave me.” Levi whispers and cries. After silence falls upon them, he hears it.

Badump. Badump. Badump.

It’s faint. So faint. But Levi could hear it. When he opened his eyes, color was back.

“She’s alive. Get the cart! She’s alive!” He screams and two cadets brought the cart. Levi picked her up and sat with her as they rode home. She was breathing and her heart was beating. Now he needed to keep it that way.

~~~~

Levi stood watch as Hange fixed Y/n’s wounds. A large gash was sewed up and bandages were everywhere but it didn’t bother Levi. What did bother him was the fact that he saw grey in this life with you. It shook him to the core. It scared him.

Hange stood in front of Levi as she wiped her hands. “I heard what happened. Are you okay?” She asks and he doesn’t answer. Levi just stared at your unconscious body and Hange nods. “She’ll be fine. Stay with her. I heard it’s better if soulmates are with each other when one is healing.” She pats his shoulder and everyone leaves.

Levi makes his way to her side and holds her hand. “Y/n? I know you can hear me, brat.” He squeezes your hand and then sighs. “I think I just experienced the scariest moment in my life.

“Ever since I’ve met you, my life has been so colorful. You and your stupid jokes, the weird things you say and do. But I wouldn’t trade you for anything. And when I stopped seeing color today...when everything went dark...I thought I was going to lose you. God.” Levi wipes a fallen tear. “But enough of my mellowing. Get some sleep, princess. I’ll be right here. Right by your side.”

~~~~

When Y/n woke up, Levi was there for everything that she needed. She couldn’t even remember what exactly happened but it changed Levi. Her usually stoic boyfriend who hated PDA stuck by her and gave her unexpected kisses, hugs and everything in between. It was nice but she didn’t understand why.

That night, Levi brushed her hair before bed. She watched him in the reflection of the mirror and his eyebrows were furrowed and he was muttering to himself.

“Baby?” Y/n calls and he looks at her. “Yeah? You okay? Need something?” Y/n smiles at his questions. “I’m fine. But,” she turns and faces him, “are you?”

“What do you mean?” Y/n takes the brush out of his hands and cup his face.

“You know what I mean. You’ve been acting different lately. Don’t get a wrong, I love how you kiss me in front of everyone and stuff but it’s not...you. You’ve been acting differently. Why?”

Levi sighs and leans into her touch. He leads Y/n to the bed and lays down with her on his lap. It takes him a while and he wanted to avoid answering since he played with her hands but he did.

“You...said that you loved me on the field. Do you remember that?” She shook her head. “You said that, then I started to bandage you up. Suddenly,” he pauses for a second,

“My whole world went dark, Y/n. Your heart stopped and everything went grey.” She gasps softly and Levi hugs her. “I vowed to you and to myself that that would never happen again. I never want to see grey again. I felt that if you died then, I would walk right into a Titans mouth because right knew I wouldn’t survive without you.”

Y/n sighs and holds him tighter. She knows that he was scared, she would’ve been too. Right now, all Levi needed was to be held by her. Just to make sure his color wouldn’t disappear again.

——————————————————————————

“You are my cinema. I could watch you forever.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

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ladydimitrescuspet · 4 years ago

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Catch You Later

AO3 link - word challenge: pineapple

Lady Dimitrescu put two fingers under your chin and lifted your head, slightly straining your neck so you could look up at her. "Do you remember the safe word, my dear?" Lady Dimitrescu.

You frowned slightly. What did you need a safe word for? "Yes, I remember the safe word, My Lady." You replied with a small nod of your head when she removed her fingers.

"Good. You understand that if you say the safe word, fail to escape my maze within the given time frame, or get caught by one of my daughters or myself that you will be my pet, yes?" Lady Dimitrescu asked.

You raised your eyebrow. "I thought I was already your pet, Mistress." Lady Dimitrescu hummed at the already known knowledge but didn't say anything. "And what happens if I do escape?" You asked.

"You are free to leave this castle, this village, Romania, but on the one condition that you never return here under any circumstances. Far be it for me to catch you twice, but if Heisenberg, Moreau, or Beneviento were to get their hands on you, you wouldn't last past a night or two there. You were lucky to survive as long as you did here, sweet one." Lady Dimitrescu replied, but she didn't give you time to comment. "This map will help navigate you through the maze, make sure you pay close attention to it. My daughters and I will keep our abilities to a minimum to give you a fair chance in this little game."

You grimaced at the thought of this being their idea of a game. "When do we start?" You asked as you took the map from her hand. Lady Dimitrescu just motioned for you to turn around and you obeyed, albeit hesitantly. You stiffened a little as you felt a piece of fabric cover your eyes, but relaxed when you realised it was just a blindfold. "I guess this means it starts now." You mumbled to yourself eliciting a small chuckle from Lady Dimitrescu.

You felt the Lady pick you up. "Hold on tightly, dear, wouldn't want you to fall and get hurt before the fun begins." You grimaced again and barely had time to wrap your arms around her neck before it felt like you were flying but you chalked it down to her moving at an unnatural pace. It only lasted a few minutes before you felt her stop, your head was spinning a bit. "You're probably feeling a bit dizzy. I'm going to set you down and I want you to count to ten before removing the blindfold and beginning, understand?" You nodded your head. "Good girl. You'll have a half-hour head start and then you'll want to keep your ears alarmed at any and every sound. You're allowed to hide, but don't stay in one spot too long. And, darling, if you need to use the safe word then don't be afraid to say it. Best of luck to you, pet." Lady Dimitrescu patted the top of your head and then you felt her presence disappear.

You let out a sigh as you counted to ten and removed the blindfold. It was kind of dark outside, but not to the point where you couldn't see. You looked at the map and noticed something, it moved. "Great." You mumbled. You waited until it was finished rearranging, you noticed that only a few spots changed whereas the rest stayed in the same spot. You determined that you'd been brought to the centre of the garden maze. "Okay, so I go left first and then right three times before going straight." You did what you told yourself but came to a dead end. You frowned and looked at the map, it had changed.

You heard something behind you and turned around, but nothing was there. They shouldn't be out here yet, it hadn't been a half hour. You turned around a quickly made various turns, finding different shortcuts throughout the maze until you came to a spot that felt familiar. It was the entrance, but it was blocked off which meant that the entrance had moved to a different spot. You kept going until you came across a puzzle. Did you need to solve the puzzle to escape?

The puzzle wasn't hard you realised as you looked over it. You just needed to put the House's coat of arms in the right places to represent Dimitrescu, Heisenberg, Beneviento, and Moreau. You had seen the different coat of arms before and remembered the tapestry in Lady Dimitrescu's sitting room that had each of the House's on it so you relied on your memory when you put them in their places. You let out a sigh of relief when you heard a click and look to your side to see something open, it held a cloak in it. Put me on if you want to be invisible was on a note that you found in front of it. It had been good timing because you could hear footsteps getting closer to you. You quickly put the coat of arms back in the places you found them and slipped the cloak on and hiding behind a nearby statue as Lady Dimitrescu came into view.

"Hmm, it seems like my little one hasn't cracked this one yet, girls." Lady Dimitrescu said as she walked over to the pieces and inspected them before putting them in their places. She let out a soft gasp when she noticed that the cloak inside the secret space was gone. "So, you did come this way, little one. Girls, spread out, my little darling is somewhere close by. I'll head to the next place and keep a lookout there. You musn't let them escape this maze." Lady Dimitrescu practically growled at her daughters before they headed in three separate directions. You let out a deep breath as Lady Dimitrescu began to walk away only to remember her mentioning the next place you needed to go so you quietly followed her, hiding where you could when you saw her stop and check her surroundings, looking for anything that looked complacent with an invisibility cloak, you realised you had to be even more careful whilst wearing it. "Oh, dearest Y/N, where are you hiding?" You heard Lady Dimitrescu call out, but remained quiet as she came upon another puzzle.

You saw her arrange the puzzle in a way that completed it, but she did it in a position where you could only see part of the puzzle. It looked like a keypad of some sort, more modern than anything you'd seen in the village or the castle. You saw her walk away when she saw that you hadn't gotten there yet and followed where she went with your eyes until she rounded a corner of the maze. You waited a few moments before carefully making your way over to the puzzle but not standing directly in front of it, just close enough where you could see the keypad.

You squinted as you tried to read, it was in Romanian. Great, just great. You knew the language, but you didn't speak it often. "Ai prefera?" You read to yourself. That meant Would you rather? so that was the game this time, okay. You looked up to the corner where Lady Dimitrescu had gone around and noticed a shadow, it was her shadow. Now that wasn't fair. She was waiting on you to solve the puzzle so she could catch you. You grinned as an idea came to your mind. You'd play the game, but you would wait for her to come out. You continued to read the rest of the next question. "Cel mai sălbatic vis sau cel mai rău coșmar al tău?" Why would you need to choose between your wildest dream or your worst nightmare? How would it even know those about you? Shaking off your questions, you made a choice, you obviously wanted your wildest dream so you chose your worst nightmare and the secret space opened up. It was a bottle with a note that said Drink me if you'd like to see the world from a different height, you raised your eyebrow, that could only mean getting taller. You looked up, the shadow hadn't moved yet so you reached into the pocket of your jacket and switched the bottle out with it before allowing the space to close with a slightly loud thud. That caught the attention of the shadow and you saw it began to move so you quickly got the other space opened to find another bottle with a note that said the same thing as the other bottle, switching the bottle out with whatever else you had in your pocket and left it to close as you found a place to hide.

You saw Lady Dimitrescu finally round the corner with a grin on her face. You could tell that she knew that you took both bottles by the fact that she didn't even check each hidden space to see if they were still there. "I'd be careful about getting those two bottles if I were you, Y/N." Lady Dimitrescu said loud enough that you were sure even her daughters heard the warning. You watched her walk back the way she came when you followed her. There goes your plan of following her to all the other puzzles and games. You checked your watched to see how much time you had left, you had one hour left to escape.

You were sure Lady Dimitrescu wasn't going to come back so you made your way over to where she had been hiding and noticed something on the ground. It was a note. "You're very smart, Y/N, following me here, but what you do not know is that it was a trap. I know you've taken both bottles, I gave you a warning, it's best to heed it. As for the trap, well, I'll let you figure it out yourself. Yours truly, Lady D." She wrote all of that while standing here. You heard a laugh and stood still as Daniela, one of her daughters.

"Mother! Your little one has your letter, what shall we do?" You heard her asked.

"My, my, maybe my pet isn't as smart as I thought. You know what to do, Daniela, no need for me to tell you once more." Lady Dimitrescu replied before shooing her daughter away. "Turn around." Lady Dimitrescu said and you realised that she was talking to you so you obeyed. "Cloak off, now." You took the cloak off.

You sighed. "I guess you win. Should I say pineapple or just let you grab me?" You asked.

Lady Dimitrescu shook her head. "Neither, I'm having fun." Lady Dimitrescu smiled wide enough to show her fangs. "Run, Y/N, and don't let me catch you."

You scratched your head. "Can I get the cloak back?" You asked. She handed it to you. "Don't worry, it wouldn't be fair if I wore it the whole game, my love." You replied.

"I see you learned from last time. A tip for you, my dear, Victoria and Elise are hanging around the next stop, so tread lightly and watch the map, it's important." She said. You smiled at her and she smiled back at you. "You may actually win this time, my darling." You rolled your eyes. You weren't going to win, no matter how many times you almost made it out, you always ended in someone's grasp or yelling out pineapples to end the game.

"I'll catch you later, Alci." You replied as you turned around from her. You smiled as you heard her say that that was her line. "It's not your line if I say it first." You heard her chuckle and turned around to find her gone. Probably making her way to the entrance, wherever it may be, to try and hinder you from escaping. Even if you did win you'd never leave Castle Dimitrescu, it was your home and Alcina and her daughters were your family for the rest of time.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village

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xofanfics · 4 years ago

Text

String - Alternate Ending II

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Pairing: Baekhyun x Female Reader x Sehun

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You find yourself in a friends-with-benefits situation with your best friend. You have no business falling for him, but your heart begs to differ.

Holding himself accountable was something that Baekhyun hadn’t quite mastered. And he seemed to be the root of all the problems that had come crashing into his life uninvited and unannounced. But he felt like he wasn’t the only person at fault.

Putting himself aside, he wondered why you hadn’t been more adamant. Why hadn’t you just come straight out, to say all the things you wanted to? Did you not know how? Did you lack the strength? Were you unsure? And putting himself into the equation, he wondered why he hadn’t been more adamant. Why hadn’t he just come straight out, to say all the things he wanted to? Did he not know how? Did he lack the strength? Was he unsure?

Why had he chosen Kira over you? Kira was pure; she didn’t have the same kind of past Baekhyun did. And to be honest, Baekhyun hadn’t been honest with her about his past or the feelings he had for you that still lingered. He realized that he wasn’t quite over you. The events of the night had made that quite clear not only to himself but to Evie too. If she noticed, who else did? Was it that obvious?

Baekhyun had become the kind of guy that all girls complained about. The kind of guy that claims he doesn’t want the girl but then gets jealous when she brings a new guy around. The kind of guy that has a girlfriend but still doesn’t want the other girl to date other people. How was something like that fair?

It was a bad idea to come here, he realized. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to start or end. Everyone was supposed to get together and have a good time at this party and he’d ruined things. He ruined the mood and brought a dark cloud over the group. He needed to apologize. Even if you never forgave him or never spoke to him again, he at least needed to apologize. The talk with Evie opened his eyes to a point of view he hadn’t really considered.

He returned to the party and noticed you standing on the balcony with Drew as he smoked a joint. Baekhyun took the opportunity to join the two of you. He wasn’t sure where Sehun had gone off to but Baekhyun assumed that he’d be back eventually.

“Hey,” he started. “Can we talk, Y/N?”

You’d been in the middle of laughing and the smile faded immediately upon seeing him. You turned your head the other way. It hurt him a bit, but he continued with what he set out to do anyway. This was the path he chose and the least he could do is apologize for everything.

Drew took one last pull and cleared his throat after he blew out the smoke. He ashed his joint and put it in a ziploc bag before putting it back in his pocket. You said, “I don’t think—” At that, Drew nudged you. You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Sure, let’s talk.” Drew gave you a wink before leaving the two of you on the balcony alone. He knew that Baekhyun had fucked up but he also knew that things would never get better if you kept blocking him off every time. Both of you, Drew decided, needed to grow the fuck up and speak through your issues like the adults that you were supposed to be.

As the balcony door clicked shut, you turned your back to him and said, “What do you want?”

“To apologize,” said Baekhyun. “I wanted to apologize for everything. For being an asshole tonight, for leading you on back then, and for not being honest with how I felt about you. I know it doesn’t seem like it but I cared about you. I still do, Y/N...and it hurts not to be able to talk to you. I miss us. I miss being friends, at least…”

You bit your lip, still turned away from him. Hearing that he missed you made you feel better. You’d missed him, too. You missed talking to him and sharing memes on Twitter. You missed being able to bullshit around campus with him between classes and going over to each others’ apartments. You missed hanging out with him, outside of the sex. You missed him being your person and being able to tell him just about anything. You decided to put your angry feelings aside, just to hear him out and not to add any more fuel to the fire that he’d started tonight.

You missed him more than anything but it was a little too late for all of this now. If he’d told you this sooner, before things got more serious with Sehun, maybe you would’ve felt differently. But he was with Kira now so, in the end, did how you feel really even matter?

“We could’ve been friends,” you said, in a voice so low that he could barely hear you. He stepped closer to you, leaning over the balcony ledge next to you. He looked at you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him right now. If you looked at him, your sense of judgment might shift. If you didn’t look at him, you wouldn’t be tempted to say all of the words you wanted to say to him… They were all of the words he’d never hear you say.

“What?” he asked.

“I said that we...could’ve been friends. You led me on, Baekhyun. I really thought we were going to be together and then you chose someone else. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

Baekhyun looked down at the city below him. It was dark but there were still some people lingering on the streets from what he could see. Were they lost? Were they going somewhere? Were they feeling how he was? Lost, confused, and frustrated with the cards and the hands he’d been dealt?

“Kind of how it feels for me right now, I guess,” he said. “I know it’s not fair for me to feel this way...since I chose someone else. But I can’t help but feel hurt...seeing you with Sehun.”

You didn’t say anything. Deep down, you knew that was why he’d been acting like this all night. Like a lot of people out in the world, Baekhyun could dish it but he couldn’t take it. He left you on your ass and chose someone else. But he wasn’t satisfied with that and he had the audacity to be jealous of the new bond you were trying to make with Sehun. Part of you understood; humans were often selfish beings and they often felt things that didn’t make sense.

Even still, it didn’t take the hurt away. It didn’t erase the feelings of hope that you had back then. It didn’t erase the fact that he hurt you in a way that you thought he never would. It didn’t take you back in time, to undo all the damage that had been done. It didn’t mend your broken heart.

Anger flared up in you again and, finally, you turned to meet his eyes. “You don’t have the right to be jealous, Baekhyun! You chose her.” You bit your lip, holding back a tear that threatened to follow. “How could you choose her over me and then come here and be jealous as soon as you see that someone else is interested in me? Someone who actually wants me and gives a shit.”

A pang of hurt hit him right in the heart. He looked into your eyes, a little more deeply than you needed him to. “Is that what you think? Of course I give a shit about you, Y/N! You’re all I can think about most days. And I wish that I could talk to you but you made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with me. And it hurts. It fucking hurts me, Y/N! I know you must think I’m some monster that doesn’t have feelings but I do…I know I hurt you too and that it doesn’t excuse anything but...” He sucked his teeth. “I admit it! I made the wrong decision, Y/N. I made all the wrong decisions and that’s on me. It’s my fault and I know it. I ruined everything we had and I fucking hate myself everyday for it. I can’t help that I’m in love with you, Y/N...”

A tear fell down your cheek. This was all too much. “I’m too drunk for this,” you said, clapping your hands together. You left Baekhyun on the balcony where he stood. And you were too fast for him to grab your hand.

Had he said too much?

Kira came back to the apartment with her friends, carrying the cases of White Claw. She saw the entrance to the balcony through the kitchen and went through it, curious to where it led. She hadn’t realized that the balcony wrapped around to the other side of the apartment. And then she heard a familiar voice as she started toward the corner. She stopped,

“—it hurts. It fucking hurts me, Y/N! I know you must think I’m some monster that doesn’t have feelings but I do…I know I hurt you too and that it doesn’t excuse anything but...I admit it! I made the wrong decision, Y/N. I made all the wrong decisions and that’s on me. It’s my fault and I know it. I ruined everything we had and I fucking hate myself everyday for it. I can’t help that I’m in love with you, Y/N...”

Kira’s heart dropped, tears falling down her face. She bit her lip, unsure of what to do next. Everything made sense now. Baekhyun’s behavior and yours, too. He was jealous because he was in love with her. More tears came as the realization set in. She watched as you walked off the balcony and back to the party. But Baekhyun stayed behind. He didn’t try to go after her. Kira heard him sigh loudly to face the street.

Kira rationalized with herself for about two minutes. She wasn’t the confrontational type but she deserved answers, at least. Baekhyun still hadn’t moved, completely lost in his thoughts. So she took the opportunity to walk over to him. Her heeled boots clicked against the concrete, slowly taking steps to the answers that she deserved.

“I meant everything I said, Y/N,” Baekhyun said, as he turned around. Unfortunately, it was the last person he expected to find him here. From the look on his girlfriend’s face, he knew that she’d overheard at least part of what he said to you.

She looked at him, one hand on her hip. “How long have you been cheating on me?”

“I’m not cheating on you, Kira,” he said. “I’ve never cheated on you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Baekhyun…”

“I’m not lying.”

Her lip quivered, unable to hold in her hurt for much longer. “Our whole relationship is a lie, right? You don’t even love me...”

��I care about you, Kira. I do like you.”

“But you don’t love me. You never will...because you’re in love with her.”

Baekhyun didn’t answer. What she said didn’t require an answer but he didn’t have much to say. He didn’t expect her to find out like this. She wasn’t supposed to be here right now. He had planned on breaking up with her but he didn’t plan on her finding out like this. Not only had he possibly ruined things with you but things were most likely going to end with Kira tonight—right now.

She pushed him in frustration. He lost his balance and stumbled backward. “Why?”

Kira hit him again but he held his ground this time. “Why?”

She hit him again and again, taking her frustrations out on him. “Why, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun didn’t do anything. He let her hit him because he deserved it. He broke her heart into a million pieces. She was feeling a pain that Baekhyun was responsible for. Kira wasn’t a confrontational person and rarely got angry. Once, there was a spider in her bedroom and, as Baekhyun had gone to get his shoe to kill it, she said, “Just leave it.” He almost wanted to smile at the memory. Kira was such a good person and he’d ruined her, causing her to act out of character.

She wasn’t supposed to find out like this. He came out here to apologize to you, not declare his love for you. He’d gone too far and Kira got hurt because of his actions. Things weren’t going as planned tonight. He’d done so much damage and within the span of about two hours. If things had gone as planned, he would’ve just come out here to apologize to you and, hopefully, smoothing things over enough for you not to hate his guts. Then he would’ve talked things over with Kira, preferably tomorrow when he was sober.

“Please stop,” Baekhyun said, wrapping his arms around her. She struggled in his arms for a few seconds, trying to get out of his grasp, before giving up. Finally, she broke down into the tears she’d been holding back. He held her, patting her head gently. “I’m so sorry, Kira. I never meant to hurt you…”

Kira’s cries died down after a few more seconds. She was so hurt and she couldn’t deal with this. Everything was a lie. Her own boyfriend wasn’t falling for her like she was falling for him. She was falling for him so hard and that’s what hurt her the most. Her feelings weren’t returned. She didn’t understand what Baekhyun’s history with you was. Had they dated in the past? Regardless, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Would knowing hurt her even more?

“It’s not that I regret being with you, Kira,” he said. “That’s not it. I regret not being honest with myself and about my feelings. I’m sorry for everything. I mean that.”

Hearing that didn’t make Kira feel better or worse. She pulled away from him. “If you weren’t sure, you should’ve just left me alone.”

“I know,” he said. “I was being selfish. I should’ve figured things out first...”

She let out a sigh, looking everywhere except at him. “I want to hate you but I can’t even do that…”

Baekhyun nodded. “I deserve that…”

“You know what hurts, Baekhyun?” she said, finally able to meet his eyes. “You were so occupied with her that you didn’t even notice that I left the party for a half hour. And even outside of tonight, it was always about her…That’s why you haven’t been able to give me your attention, right? Because you were thinking about her the whole time? You never noticed me because your eyes have always been for her…”

She wiped her tears with the backs of her hands. There was nothing left to say or do. Neither one of them had officially said that they’d broken up with words. Part of her still wanted to be with him and she wished that she could shove that feeling to the side. That was the thing about feelings; you could ignore them as much as you wanted but feelings can’t just be erased like they never happened, like you never had them in the first place.

If she could go back in time, she would. She would go back in time to avoid dating Baekhyun. This was one of the relationships that weren’t meant to be. They should’ve left things how they were before, with her having a crush on Baekhyun that couldn’t go anywhere because she was on the road to studying abroad in Italy. They weren’t in sync; they didn’t meet at a time in their lives when things could’ve worked out. And, maybe, both of them should’ve just accepted that that chapter in their lives had ended.

In the end, it wasn’t worth it and it wasn’t meant to be. From the start, the relationship was doomed.

Sehun couldn’t help but feel confused, sitting on the couch next to you. You’d just told him that you couldn’t be with him. That you’d thought about it and realized it wasn’t a good idea right now. He said, “Did something happen? I-I thought you wanted this…”

You bit your lip. “I don’t think I’m ready. I’m not over that guy...and I’m sorry for leading you on like this.”

Sehun had a feeling that you weren’t ready but part of him hoped that you were. He couldn’t be mad at you. If anything, he was grateful that you were telling him this now rather than later. He liked you and he enjoyed spending time with you, but it was better off letting each other go if you couldn’t give him what he needed. It seemed like you needed time and, to be honest, it seemed like even with time he couldn’t be sure that you’d pick him.

He couldn’t hide his disappointment. He liked you more than he expected to and finding out that the two of you most likely weren’t going to date was disappointing. You were younger than him and you were unsure of your feelings and what you wanted. Regardless of age though, Sehun knew what he wanted and he knew what he needed from a potential partner. He realized that he was chasing someone who kept leading him to dead ends.

He stood up from the chair. “I understand. I hope you figure things out with Baekhyun…”

Sehun knew that Baekhyun was the person that you weren’t over, whether you said it to him or not. He knew that Baekhyun was the reason for the sudden change of heart. Things had been adding up all night, but he kept quiet about it. He chose to ignore the signs because he liked you. And part of him—the selfish part—had hoped that you’d ignore your feelings and come to him instead. But he knew how feelings worked. They didn’t make sense and they couldn’t be helped.

“I’m sorry, Sehun,” he said. “Maybe we could—”

He shook his head. “I think we should just leave it alone for now. I don’t wanna keep running around in circles with you. I like you and I don't want to hold onto the hope that you’ll come around.” He took a deep breath. This was hard for him, too. Sehun was ready to settle down, to finally find someone he clicked with. And he thought he’d found that with you but, so quickly, that dream was over. “You have a history with him, right? It’s complicated...so you should figure that out. And I’m not saying any of this to be petty. I genuinely mean it...Anyway, let’s just move on with our lives for now. If we cross paths one day, that’s fine, but I think we should just end things for now.”

Sehun had said everything he needed to say. And you didn’t have many words to say, but you found a few. “I don’t want you to think I never liked you...because I do. I meant all of the things I said to you tonight but there are just some things I need to take care of, like you said. Thank you for being understanding…”

“Take care, Y/N…”

“You too, Sehun.”

You woke up to your cell phone vibrating at four in the morning. You’d fallen asleep after a shower and you groaned as you looked at your phone and saw Baekhyun’s name flashing across the screen.

Was he serious right now?

“Baekhyun, are you forreal?”

“I can’t sleep,” he said. “Me and Kira are over. I really fucked things up but I can’t stop thinking about you. Every thought I have is of you. I just...really need to talk to you.”

“What is there to talk about Baekhyun? Everything is over.”

“Open the door and tell me that everything is over. Tell me in person.”

“Go home, Baekhyun.”

“Please open the door, Y/N.”

You hung up on him and groaned. You rubbed sleep from your eyes and headed to the front door. When you opened the door Baekhyun was on the other side, dressed in a white t-shirt, sweats, and his black leather jacket.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said. “I need you...”

“Baekhyun, please,” you said. “You can’t just show up to my house in the middle of the night and try to talk to me about shit like this...”

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” he said. “Tell me you don’t have feelings for me and I’ll leave you alone.” Baekhyun knew you well. He knew that you couldn’t lie to him. And he knew that deep down, you still had feelings for him somewhere.

You looked up at him with tired eyes but you said nothing but before you could say anything, his lips were on yours. You did nothing to stop him and he kissed you and you kissed him back in the hallway of your apartment building. If anything, you deepened the kiss and melted into his embrace. His hands found your face and a few seconds later, you grabbed him and pulled him into the apartment before shutting the front door behind you.

“I want you,” he said, pulling away. “I wish I could take everything back but I can’t. And I know there’s nothing I can do or say to make it right but I want this. I want us. I want to be with you, Y/N…and, um, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, at least—”

“I waited so long to hear you say that,” you admitted. “It’s all I ever wanted, Baek…” He kissed you again and you bumped and collided into the walls until you managed to get to your bedroom. His kiss, his touch, his everything felt right. You wrapped your arms around him and you said, “Show me...Show me how much you love me.”

Baekhyun nodded, putting his jacket on the chair in the corner of your room. You bit your lip, anticipating what was to come. You hadn’t slept with anyone else and you were ready. Sex with Baekhyun was the best you’d had yet and it had been hard not to have him for so many months. You’d been dying for a taste of him and here he was. All your prayers had been answered at this moment.

You took your t-shirt off, showing off the rest of your body. Luckily for Baekhyun, you hadn’t been wearing any panties, leaving you completely naked. Baekhyun felt himself getting hard, looking at your figure. You were perfect and his dick throbbed for you. He took off his pants, freeing himself from the restraints of his sweats.

He approached you slowly, taking your body in. “You’re so perfect...” He pulled you into his chest, feeling on your body gently. “Are you sure you want this?” You nodded and sat on the bed. Baekhyun joined you, pressing his lips on yours. This time, the kisses were more gentle, more passionate. His tongue slowly entered yours and when you pulled away, you helped him out of his shirt, then his boxers. You ran your fingers across his head, causing Baekhyun to let out a slight gasp of pleasure.

For a moment, you stared at each others’ naked bodies. You loved everything about Baekhyun. You loved his body; the way it rocked against you when he was inside you and how it seemed like it was made just for you. You loved his lips and how they weren’t too big or too small, and the way he kissed you as if the world was ending. You loved his hands, his fingers and how slim they were and the way they felt inside you.

He pinned you to the bed, his hands on yours. He kissed your neck, sending shivers up your body. He kissed you there, sucking enough to leave a slight bruise but you didn’t care. You bit your lip in concealed pleasure, as he made his way past your neck and to your chest. Baekhyun took his time with your breasts, taking them in his hands. He squeezed them lightly before taking a nipple into his mouth. He sucked each lightly, slow and steady. Your body shuddered with pleasure and you let a tiny moan escape from your mouth. Baekhyun kept going, this time flicking his tongue a little more roughly. You moaned louder and Baekhyun started kissing down your stomach until he arrived at the place he’d been wanting to taste so badly.

You arched your back as Baekhyun circled his tongue around your clit, so lightly that it tickled. He did that a few more times, just to tease you. And before you could even beg, he started sucking on your clit like it was a piece of hard candy. You let out a string of expletives and Baekhyun was pleased with himself. He was driving you crazy and all that could be heard in your room was the sound of Baekhyun’s tongue and him slurping up your wetness.

“Fuck, I need you,” you whispered.

“You need me?” Baekhyun said, humming into your wet folds.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

A few seconds later, Baekhyun stopped. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. And without further ado, he positioned himself between your legs and pushed inside you. You hummed in pleasure as you felt him fill you up. Baekhyun started kissing you again and you melted into his embrace as he thrusted in and out of you slowly. His lips never left yours and you wrapped your legs around him, pushing him in deeper.

Everything about this felt right to Baekhyun. Your legs felt perfect around his waist, your moans were music to his ears, and your tongue slid perfectly against his when he kissed you.

“Fuck,” he said, “you’re so tight…”

You moaned softly, Baekhyun still thrusting into you slowly; He wanted to take his time with you. He wanted to fuck you right and show you everything you’d been missing. He wanted you to feel him, in every sense of the word. He kissed you more and, eventually, he fit his fingers between yours. He held your hands down and thrusted himself more deeply into you.

You whispered, “Harder.”

Baekhyun did as you wished and he knew that your orgasm had been building up. It was as if he was dancing inside of you, his hips picking up the pace, thrusting like his life depended on it. You bit your lips and your body writhed from underneath him. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails into his back. But Baekhyun didn’t mind. Scratch him, bite him, he didn’t care. As long as you were enjoying yourself, he’d let you ruin him.

He pressed his body into yours, putting some weight on you. You were getting closer and closer as Baekhyun groaned in your ear and started kissing your neck. You were pulsing around him, squeezing his dick.

“Keep doing that baby,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” you said, letting out another moan. He felt so good inside you. You felt like you were going to burst soon. Baekhyun lifted himself off of you; He knew you were close and he wanted to see all the beautiful faces you made when you were coming. He looked you in your eyes while he fucked you, which turned you on more than he knew.

You were beginning to unravel. You were so close, at the top of a mountain. Then you let yourself fall, fall into a blinding pleasure. You came undone around Baekhyun. You couldn’t see. You couldn’t hear. But you could feel it, as you tipped over the edge with a toe curling gasp.

This was the moment Baekhyun had been waiting for. He loved the way your eyes screwed shut and the way your lips parted slightly. And how your body jerked and writhed with your orgasm. He felt your pussy pulsing, squeezing and pushing him around. That was all he needed and that was all it took for him to come right after. He’d been holding back this whole time, struggling to hold himself together until you came. The thighs that had been tightening around him turned to jelly. And he groaned one last time before he collapsed on top of you.

Both of you panted heavily, your hearts racing. You wrapped your arms around him as you caught your breath. The two of you were at a loss for words. Reality started to set in for you. You never expected this to happen. Hell, you were prepared for the possibility of never being on speaking terms with Baekhyun again. But here he was, on top of you with his dick still inside. Who would’ve thought the events of tonight would lead up to this?

He pulled out of you, reaching for the box of tissues on your nightstand. As he returned to wipe you off, he noticed a huge wet spot on your sheets. You’d been dripping, leaking all over the bed while he fucked you. And now his cum was oozing out of your pussy.

As he cleaned you up, he said, “We made a mess, huh?” You glanced down, noticing the sheet. You let out a giggle. “It’s okay. I’ll help you wash it tomorrow if I can spend the night here with you.”

You smiled, standing up. “Of course. It’s like five in the morning.”

As the two of you pulled the sheet back, Baekhyun said, “I don’t want you to think that this is all I came here for…”

You laid down on the bed, propping yourself up with pillows. “That’s not what I think. I wanted this too...”

He sat next to you on the bed. He hesitated but he needed to know what would become of them. He looked you in your eyes for a few seconds. “Can we...try again? I know I can’t take anything back but I want to start over.”

You nodded and said, “I forgive you, Baekhyun. Let’s do things right this time, okay?”

His heart almost jumped out of his chest. He never expected things to go like this. He didn’t expect you to forgive him, he didn’t expect to sleep with you, or for things to get as far as they got. It was like all of his prayers had suddenly been answered. He knew that, deep down, he didn’t deserve you. But maybe he did. Maybe everything that had happened was for a reason, reasons that neither of you would ever understand. Over the past few weeks, Baekhyun felt like he’d undergone something like character development. He’d taken you for granted and he wasn’t honest with himself or with anyone else about his feelings. He’d been immature and in denial. This situation, in a way, put things into perspective for him.

This time, you leaned in for a kiss. When you pulled away, you said, “Did you mean what you said before?”

“What?”

“That you love me…”

Baekhyun nodded. That was the one feeling he was one hundred percent certain about. He loved you. “Of course I meant it.”

“Say it again.”

You thought that maybe it was a ridiculous request and that it was just your insecurities trying to get the better of you. But, in this moment, you needed a bit of reassurance. Most people would’ve told you to leave Baekhyun in the dust, that you deserved better. And maybe it was true. But it wasn’t your truth. The truth was that Baekhyun made you happy. Even though you’d been hurt, your heart still skipped a beat every time your eyes met. You just needed to know that everything was okay and that you were making the right decision.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you, Y/N…”

You kissed again and again as the sun rose, the light peeking through your blinds. You melted into his embrace and he melted into yours. The two of you got lost, drunk, in each others mouths. And, through the blinds, you could see the sun rising. A new day, no—a new chapter was ahead. And you were just glad Baekhyun was here for the ride.

FIN. (like, actually)

Tag List: @shesdreaminginoverdose @multistania @jeonchan26 @myonlyaurora @keloiu @xxluckydreamsxx @multifandomeras @blanknearvana @jddcfc-blog @jummyjammy @mintaemark @kokobyunee @fortheloveofinfinite @littleflowercrown13 @wayvexo @to-all-the-stories-i-love @ggaayyyong @hyuniebaby @giriboyshogu @xyukheix @jekylluv @forbyun @endzii23 @puppyeoliepop @aa-ronpa @jessverdin @princemicorazon @sjkings @marimsun @baekhypnotized @cynthbee @xuyiyangstan @justmitchie @minseoksnz @wooya1224 @stepanielove @deadelline @kimluvwoo @sehunski @desired-love- @bexinini @g0lden-sunset @justineasian @vad-hander @loeygotospacenow @nana-banana @happiestgirlontheeastcoast

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rrickgrrimes8 · 4 years ago

Text

Normality is Death

Chapter Thirteen ~ Philippians 1:29

masterlist

"C'mon baby lets go back to our room," Lori said to Jacey, Carl already holding her hand. Jacey nodded following a part of her family down the halls.

"What's happening, mom?" Carl asked as he watched Lori go to the air vent feeling no air come out, "Mom? Something wrong?"

Jacey watched her apprehensive mother, "Uh, nothing. It's just... just the air conditioning stopped."

Lights went out soon after that too which agitated Lori more as did the disappearance of her husband. Sitting at the foot of her parents' bed, she watched as she left the room to talk to Doctor Jenner as he passed quickly. "What's wrong, Jacey?" She heard Addie call to her.

"Please leave me alone," her hands found their ways to her ears once again seeking to block out any noise.

"Jacey? You're scaring me... what's wrong?" Addie called to her again, causing her to look up only to see her younger brother worried, "What's wrong, Jacey?"

"Uh... nothing, squirt. I'm fine," She stuttered, paralyzed by her shock, "Where's mom?"

"Went after that Doctor. Sent me back to get you," Carl smiled, still perturbed, "You coming?"

"Yep, Let's go, squirt."

The two younger Grimes' entered the hysterical room, passing their frightful mother on the way out, "Mom what's happening?" Lori didn't respond though, as she continued to run down the corridor and back to the room. Jacey caught wind of Jenner's words about how the French were the last ones to hold out. Well, that was until the fuel ran out. It sunk in deep with the child, there was no cure and there never will be - everything is gone.

Jacey, grabbing the hand of her brother, ran into the room eyeing the now sealed doors. "No. Did you just lock us in?" Glenn panicked, "He just locked us in!" Carl held her hand tighter, the loud noises and consternation becoming at once too much for him. Jacey saw Edwin take a seat at his desk and begin to talk to a camera.

Bold lettering violated her eyes as the screen switched to black with the red-lettered words of '30 minutes to decontamination'. "Carl! Jacey!" she heard her mom bellow, quickly finding them. Dropping her bags, she wrapped her arms around the two children, kissing both of their heads.

Daryl endeavoured over to the man in a fit of rage, yelling at him something Jacey couldn't quite catch but was quickly stopped by Shane. She watched as her father pleaded with the stubborn man to open the door, to which he refused. "What happens in 28 minutes?" Rick yelled to the man after he had ignored him the first time.

"Come on!" Daryl encouraged threatening him with a glass bottle.

"You know what this place is?!" He snapped, "We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! Ever!" Jenner stops to breathe slowly, "In the event of a catastrophic power failure - in a terrorist attack, for example - H.I.T are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T's?" Rick asked.

"VI, define," he ordered.

"H.I.T's - high impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist," VI continued but Jacey just blocked it out. They were going to die. They were all going to die. Rick walks over to his family joining in on their hug, mortified by the news. Jacey, however, felt okay, fine really. It didn't bother her that she was about to die - her death never seemed to scare her. What did bother her though was that her family would die too. Carl was too young to die she thought to herself.

"It sets the air on fire. No pain," Jenner told them after VI had finished, "an end to sorrow, grief... regret. Everything." Jacey smiled through her tears, she was almost looking forward to it as dark as that sounded but she just wanted some peace, a rest. She watched as many grew angry - and in Daryl's case - violent with the doctor.

Shane and T-dog stayed by the door throwing any and everything they had at it, but none of it making a dent. "You should've left well enough alone... it would have been so much easier," Jenner lent back in his chair, unbothered by the chaos he had created.

"Easier for who?" Lori spat, clearly angry with the man's decision yet still a great amount of sadness in her words, knowing her children were about to die when they're lives really had just begun.

"All of you. You know what's out there. A short brutal life and agonizing death," Jacey understood this and observed as he looked to her, "The people you lost, what was their names?"

"Mitch and Addie," she replied not entirely sure on how he knew, while Rick looked to the man threateningly not wanting her daughter to have any part in his manipulation.

"And you? Your sister?" he asked now to Andrea, the following was a quiet 'Amy'. "Addie, Mitch and Amy," He looked between Andrea and the girl, "You know what this does. You've seen it. Is that what you really want for your wife, daughter and son?"

Now looking at Rick. "I don't want this," He almost cried emphatically.

"Can't make a dent," Shane shouted to Rick, alarmed.

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher," Jenner said almost comedically.

"Well, your head ain't!" Daryl screamed, making his way over to the doctor, axe ready. Dale, Rick and Shane come together once more to hold Daryl and his clear anger issues back, "Daryl! Daryl!"

T-dog soon wrestled the weapon off of him as Jenner continued to Rick, "You do want this. Last night you said you knew it was just a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead." Lori's face drops at his words, while Jacey detaches herself from her mother and brother, planting herself on one of the many identical tables.

"What? You really said that? After all your big talk?" Shane expectorated, almost betrayed at the doctor's words.

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" He justified to Lori.

"There is no hope. There never was."

"There's always hope. Maybe it won't be you, maybe not here but somebody somewhere-"

"What part of 'everything is gone' do you not understand?" the younger girl interrupted her father, earning an approving nod from Andrea but a pained look from her family.

"Listen to your daughter," Jenner advised, "She gets it. This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event."

"This isn't right. You can't keep us here," Carol cried, "my daughter doesn't deserve to die like this."

"Wouldnt it be kinder, more compassionate just to hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run out?" Carol still cries as she holds her daughter, but Jacqui nods her head slightly.

Much like what happened with Daryl, Shane came to the doctor pointing a shotgun right at his face, but this time Rick intervened, "Out of the way, Rick! Stay out of my way! Open that door, or I'm going to blow your head off. Do you hear me?" Jenner remained emotionless as the officer continued to aim for his head.

"Brother, brother, this is not the way you do this. We will never get out of here, " Rick reminded him. Instead, in a fit of anger, Shane begins to shoot at the computer screens randomly, everyone cowering away from the shots. "We all die, Shane!" he reminded before struggling to get the gun away from him, "Are you done now? Are you done?"

"Yeah, I guess we all are," Shane disputed.

"I think you're lying," Rick said to Edwin, "You're lying about no hope. If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn't. You chose the hard path, why?"

"It doesn't matter," Jenner sheepishly said.

"It does matter. It always matters. You stayed when others ran. Why?"

"Not because I wanted to. I made a promise," he proceeded to point towards the screen, "To her. My wife."

"Test subject 19 was your wife?" Lori questioned sympathetically.

"She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no?" Jenner paused, looking to Daryl, who continued to use his axe against the door no matter how useless it was, "She was dying. It should've been me on that table. I wouldn't have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world. Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. In our field, she was Einstein. Me? I'm just... Edwin Jenner. She could've done something about this. Not me." Jacey sighed, feeling the pain of his loss substantially.

Rick pleaded once more, "Your wife didn't have a choice. You do. That's... that's all we want a choice... a chance."

"You let us keep trying as long as we can," Lori added.

Jenner moves over to the desk picking up what looked like a security pad and said, "I told topside's locked down. I can't open those."

Seconds later, the doors open and everyone begins to rush out of them, "There's your chance. Take it"

"I'm grateful," Rick smiled, lifting his hand for him to shake.

"The day will come when you won't be," Jenner said before shaking Rick's hand and whispering something in his ear.

"You can't go, you know that, right?" Addie says, her voice kinder now, which Jacey was more grateful for.

"I know. I want to be with you again," Jacey looked to the girl reluctantly, hoping that the walker won't appear again.

Addie's face - her normal one - came into view, blooming a big smile on the younger girls face, "And you will, love. I'm never going to leave you again, I promise."

"I love you, Addie."

"I lov-" Addie's voice was interrupted by a male one "Jacey, c'mon, angel, grab your things. Let's go."

Jacey shook her head at the man she realised to be her father, "I-I'm not coming." Rick stopped, hoping his ears were deceiving him but then looked at her tear-covered face and realised.

"No, you're not, baby. Let's go," Lori shouted from behind Rick.

"Lori just go. Get the others out of here," he ordered his wife, "We're right behind you." The rest of the group stampeded out of the room, Lori and Carl lingering for a short minute, hoping Rick will be able to convince her to join them.

"Tell him you're sorry, Jace," Addie whispered, holding her hand.

"I'm sorry but I-I can't."

"Yes you can, Jacey, please. You're not thinking straight," Rick prayed that she'd see reason and join them, but his heart stopped when she shook her head.

"I can't anymore, dad. I'm so tired." Jacey looked around the room, seeing that not only Jenner was still here but so was Jacqui and Andrea.

An arm snaked over her shoulder, squeezing it gently, an arm, belonging to Mitchell, "Tell him to leave, babydoll, and then you'll be with us forever."

She smiled at his words and then returned her eyes to her father's blue ones, "You have to leave. I want to stay with them."

"I'm not leaving you here, angel," He cried, tightly holding the sides of her face.

"Addie was only 16, dad, Mitch was 25. We had children in our camp. I-I should've died with them. I don't deserve to live when they had to die."

"Listen to me, Jace, you survived for a reason, okay? You don't have to agree with me, but whoever is up there, whatever is in charge made it so you weren't there. So you wouldn't die. They wouldn't want you to die here and now. Your story is not over yet. I won't allow it," Rick wailed, heavier than earlier as he watched his daughter looked to her left and right as if looking at people that weren't there, "Your death isn't going to bring them back."

"I can't leave them, daddy," She paused, "I already hurt them enough."

"Who are you talking about, angel?" his voice breaking slightly.

"Addie and Mitchell," Jacey told him as if it was obvious, "I can't leave them alone again."

"Addie and Mitchell are dead, baby. They're not here anymore," the man pleaded with his deluded daughter.

"No," she argued, squeezing her eyes shut, "shut up. You're lying, they're here with me now, they want me to stay. She promised me she wouldn't leave again," Jacey cried, looking at Addie and Mitchell, slowly seeing them morph into their walker forms, "Oh god. No, not again, please, not again. They're going to hurt me, daddy. They're going to hurt me like I hurt them."

"Hey baby, look at me, only me, okay?" he stopped her from looking to where he assumed she saw them, "No one's gonna hurt you. Addie and Mitchell are gone. They can't hurt you, alright? Now we've got to go, angel, before it's too late." Jacey wanted to nod, to go with him, but the grip that Addie and Mitchell had on her tightened, making her let out a small cry.

At once, they both turned into their undead self's clawing at her skin instead of holding it, "You can't leave, Jacey. Not when you did this to us."

"No! Shut up! Leave me alone! I want to live! I don't want to die!" Rick watched the girl breakdown her hands beginning to claw away at any visible skin. The man grabbed her hands, stopping the movement before looking over to the timer seeing it hit the 5-minute mark.

"I'm sorry, Jacey. I'm so sorry baby," Jacey heard him cry before feeling him move away from her.

"Jacey, look at me, sweetheart," A kind, shaky voice begged of her. Jacey turned to meet their eyes, seeing a crying Jacqui, "You gotta go, darling, please."

"I can't, Jacqui. I can't keep going on like this," She paused, "I'm not strong enough."

"Yes you are, child. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met, don't ever trick yourself into thinking you're not," Jacqui apprised the younger girl.

"I'm not as strong as you think, Jacqui. Nowhere even close."

"That's where your wrong, sweetheart. You've got a lot of heart and if do say so myself a lot of balls," She smiled at her, "You're gonna survive this world, I'm sure of it." Jacqui stops speaking as she looked at the girl, aware of the mental state, "Look, sweetie, I'm not gonna force you outta that door, as much as I'd like too. I don't want you to die today, Jacey, but it seems like it's going that way so let me tell you something, okay?" Jacey nodded, "And you gotta promise me the moment you understand it you'll leave, you'll survive," she nodded once more, "Philippians 1:29; For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him but also to suffer for his sake." Jacey stayed silent not quite comprehending the meaning of the passage.

"I don't understand, I don't get it, Jacqui," She cried into her palms.

"That's okay, sweetie, just breathe..." Jacqui refrained, "It means your pain has a purpose, whatever that purpose may be."

"Do you understand now?"

Jacey shook her head sadly, "That's okay, take your rest. I will see you once more in another life." Jacey watched as the older woman rejoined Jenner at his computer and observed as she wished that their conversation had gone another way and in some way Jenner also did.

"You have to stay Jace. You said you understood that. Everything will be better if you do," Addie warned, "If you go you will kill every single one of them out there. Do you want that? Do you want them dead? Your dad? Your mom? Carl?" Jacey shook her head manically, her mind flashing unforgiving images of their bodies eaten and unmoving, "So stay with me, my love. Stay, and I'll love you forever."

Jacey nodded at her before muttering, "I'll love you forever too," causing Addie to smile. Jacey began to move closer to the dark-skinned girl, her face returning back to her natural one.

"I wanna kiss you, Jace," Addie parted her lips inching towards Jace's.

"Me too," She replied, shyness shrouding her confidence.

But before their lips could touch, the masculine voice returned, "I'm sorry, Jacey," following a sharp twinge in her neck. Immediately, she felt a rush of dizziness hit her, Addie and Mitchell disappearing shortly afterwards, "no." She fell off her chair and into a pair of muscular arms, "I'm sorry, angel."

"Addie," she cried before the darkness took over her.

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auror-lovie · 4 years ago

Text

I Loved You, Mr. Scamander: Chapter 1

━━━•✦.✧. Author’s Note.✧.✦•━

I decided to post these up again. Hopefully they show up in the tags! I can’t wait to show my work with you all!

You can find the playlist link in my bio! If you want to be added to my taglist, just send me an ask or fill out the taglist form that is also linked in my bio!

━━━━━•✦.✧. Summary .✧.✦•━

Let’s just say that first loves are something else.

━━━━━•✦.✧. Warnings .✧.✦•━

Small Angst

Ravenclaw reader ( I hope that won’t sway your opinion on the fic! )

Pssst. Victoria is my HP/FBAWTFT OC~~

Hamilton reference

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

I Loved You, Mr. Scamander; Chapter 1: Wish I Were...

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

From their first year at Hogwarts, Newt and (Y/N) were always friends. During a Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw joint class for Potions, Newt had a little trouble getting some ingredients from a shelf that was out of his reach. Until a Ravenclaw girl from his year helped. From that day on, he realized that they shared more classes than he thought. They were inseparable. Back then, she’d tease him because of his height. Now, she couldn’t joke about it. He towered over her and they were only in their third year of Hogwarts.

What she didn’t expect was to fall in love with him. Cliché, right? She loved his personality- a gentle soul whose loyalty matched no other. She loved the way he’d care for magical creatures. He didn’t trap them or used them for personal gain. No- that wasn’t Newt. He kept magical creatures to study them. So he could prove to the world that they weren’t as dangerous as the books made them.

She fell in love with his smile. A smile that always followed his laugh. The way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when he was in pure happiness. She fell in love with the color of his eyes. They were a mix of blue and green- not one or the other, but somehow merging to form into its own.

(Y/N) and Newt were walking down the halls from Professor Dumbledore’s class, heading over to the library. She hadn’t noticed the cold until a breeze passed through the empty hall. “Ah shoot. I forgot my robes in his class,” (Y/N) mumbled, rubbing her upper arms.

Her mind soon became focused on one thing, staying warm. The walk to the library was starting to feel like a long journey. ‘Hot chocolate, being home, sunshine, summer, warm hugs from Newt-’ She repeated the mantra in her head. Wait- warm hugs from Newt?

The feeling of a warm cloth placed over her shoulders broke her from her trance. (Y/N) looked at the source of her newfound warmth- Newt’s robes. She looked up at her Hufflepuff friend, “Newt! But you’ll get cold!”

Newt let out a soft chuckle. “You know, for a Ravenclaw, you’re quite forgetful.”

(Y/N) blushed, “D-Don’t you start, Newton!” She stuttered. There were only two instances where she would use his full first name. Whenever the situation was serious or to tease him. This moment was the latter of the two.

“Besides, it looks better on you than it did me.” He said, giving her a charming smile.

Oh, how she loved his smile. She felt her chest swell up with adoration. ‘Only if you knew how much I liked you…’ She thought as she hugged his Hufflepuff robes closer to her body.

~*~*~

The duo met up with another one of their friends, Victoria. She was already in their designated meeting spot. Her nose stuck in her Potions book when (Y/N) and Newt reached the library.

When they reached the table, Victoria set down her book and looked up at them. “Five minutes late, my dear birdies.”

(Y/N) sighed, “Vi, it’s only five minutes.”

Victoria leaned back on her seat, relaxing a bit. “Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.” She said matter-a-factly.

“Sorry about that, Vi. We got caught up in Dumbledore’s class.” Newt apologised.

She hummed in response. "That’s okay, Newton. Let’s get started on these assignments so we can all leave this place.” Victoria cooed softly.

“Oh, so, Newt gets your soft mom voice and I get your lecture mom voice?” (Y/N) ranted as she sat down.

Newt chuckled at their banter before walking off to find the book he needed for his essay.

Victoria had waited for Newt to be out of earshot before she leaned forward, her chin resting on her hands. “Last time I checked, you were a Ravenclaw this morning.” She whispered.

(Y/N) looked up at Victoria in confusion as she opened Victoria’s Potions textbook. “What are you talking about?”

Victoria’s eyes landed on the Hufflepuff crest on the robe (Y/N) was wearing before looking back at her friend.

She blushed, “O-Oh! I was just cold… That’s all…”

Victoria rolled her eyes, “I was just cold! That’s all..” She mimicked teasingly. “But seriously… Are you ever going to tell him?”

(Y/N) shook her head, “No, I don’t think I will…”

Victoria gave her a look as if to say “Really?”

“I mean, I won’t tell him now. I’ll tell him when I’m ready and when we’re a bit older.” (Y/N) confessed.

Newt finally came back with a Herbology book and set it down. “Tell who what when we’re older?”

“Oh, nothing! Just talking about potential career choices. That’s all!” Victoria said, before (Y/N) could say anything.

He nodded, “Well… I guess it’s never too early to decide what you want to do.”

(Y/N) looked at Victoria, mouthing “Thank you”.

~*~*~

December passed and the next semester had started. As they left Potions, Victoria and (Y/N) were discussing the day’s lesson, but Newt’s attention was elsewhere.

His attention was on a certain Slytherin student.

“Newt? Hello, Newt? Earth to Newton?” Victoria said, trying to get the Hufflepuff’s attention.

(Y/N) looked at her other friend, following his gaze to see him staring at Leta Lestrange. He was staring at Leta, as she passed by, in the same way he stared at his creatures, with love and adoration.

“Victoria, drop it.” (Y/N) said coldly.

Victoria looked at her friend. From the moment they became close friends, (Y/N) refused to call her Victoria. So she knew something was up. “O-Okay…”

As the weeks passed by, all Newt's affections had stopped. He stopped waiting for (Y/N) after breakfast so they could walk to class together. He stopped staying late at Dumbledore's class with her. He stopped giving her his robes. After it happened the first time, she made an effort to never forget her robes again. He stopped asking her to help him with his creatures. Their close friendship, lost because he started hanging out with Leta.

“Why would he ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty…” (Y/N) sobbed into Victoria’s shoulder as they sat by the lake.

Victoria wrapped her arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder and sighed, “One day… Something will happen. He’ll realize his feelings, but it’ll be too late…”

“I wish I were Leta… Then maybe he’d love me…”

One day, while walking to the library, she saw it. Newt placed his robes over her shoulder. She saw the shy smile Leta gave him. She saw the smile Newt gave that followed his laugh. That’s when she realized that they were in love with each other.

She briskly made her way to the library, looking for Victoria, tears already falling down her cheeks.

When (Y/N) came to their meeting spot, Victoria stood, “Hey, what’s-”

(Y/N) ran straight into her arms, interrupting her. Victoria looked down at her. Never had she seen her best friend so heartbroken. All she could do was hug her and comfort her the best way she could.

After the small crying session, Victoria held (Y/N) by the shoulders. “Okay (Y/N), here’s what we're going to do. I’m going to let you cry about him for a week. Avoid him, punch a wall, scream in anger and pain. Do whatever it takes to get your emotions out. Then after a week, you’ll get up and stop thinking about him.”

(Y/N) sniffled, wiping some of the snot on her sleeve. “Y-You’re acting as if Newt and I broke up.”

“Well, you’re crying like it,” Victoria said, patting (Y/N)’s shoulders. “Come on, we have a whole future to worry about guys. Right now, we’re going to do whatever it takes to get us training to be Aurors after we graduate.” She said, smiling at her friend.

“Yeah, we’ll take names and kick ass.” (Y/N) joked.

Victoria winked at her, “That’s my girl. And like I always say, birds of a feather-”

“Flock together.” They said in unison.

~*~*~

And (Y/N) did that. She cried. She wrote angry letters, sad letters, love letters to Newt then ripped them to shreds. She’d punched a pillar once and broke her left hand- yikes, that was not a pretty sight. Victoria had done everything she could to make (Y/N) feel better.

After a week, Victoria came into (Y/N)’s dorm and woke her up. From then on, those two worked hard and smart. They took opportunities whenever they could.

Fifth year came along and the Headmaster had a hard time choosing between the two to be the Ravenclaw prefect of their year. (Y/N) declined the offer, letting Victoria take the prefect position. Although confused, Victoria proudly took the title and accepted the responsibilities.

Fifth year was the year Newt and (Y/N) reconciled. They apologized for leaving each other. They apologized for all the miscommunication. It didn’t take long for them to become friends again. His affections returned, but not to the extent to what it was in their third year.

He waited to walk to classes with her before parting ways. He had “Care of Magical Creatures” while she and Victoria headed off to “Defense Against the Dark Arts”. He tried his best to balance his time between Leta and (Y/N). Though in the end, he would always choose Leta.

When word got out that (Y/N) and Newt were hanging out with each other again, Victoria got concerned.

“Now, is this strictly platonic?”

“Of course it is! Newt’s just a fr-… He’s…” (Y/N) trailed off.

Victoria leaned her back against the bookshelf, crossing her arms over her chest. “You caught feelings again, didn’t you?”

(Y/N) could only nod in agreement.

It did take time for Victoria to trust him again. Who could blame her? He broke her best friend’s heart. Soon after that, she was back to being the “mom friend” of the group. (Y/N), Newt, and Leta- Victoria would do anything to protect her friends.

That was until Newt got expelled. In Sixth Year, one of Leta's experiments involving a Jarvey went too far, endangering the life of another student. Instead of seeing his best friend expelled, Newt took the blame for Leta’s actions. Victoria, (Y/N), and Leta were in the room where it happened. The Headmaster had dismissed the girls. (Y/N) and Leta left, but Victoria stayed to try and defend Newt’s innocence along with Professor Dumbledore.

As they walked farther from the Headmaster’s office, (Y/N) called out to Leta, trying to get her attention. She finally stopped Leta by gently holding onto her shoulder. “Leta,” She said in a serious tone.

Leta turned around, moving her shoulder to get (Y/N)’s hand off. “What is it now?”

“You’re going to ask that when you’re the reason Newt’s expelled? The audacity.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that!” Leta retorted.

(Y/N) scoffed, “He did it because he loved you, Leta! All you did was take and take from him and you loved it. You loved his attention and his loyalty and you just ate it up.”

“Don’t talk to me about loyalty. You and Victoria had no problem ditching him when I came around. You two quickly climbed the ranks in your house. Too bad you weren’t good enough to be prefect.”

(Y/N) stood there in silence. Leta was wrong. She could’ve been prefect. She chose not to take it. No hard feelings. (Y/N) thought that Victoria would be a better candidate. Her eyes teared up- not in sadness, but anger.

Leta saw this as an opportunity to add more fuel to the fire, “And don’t think I didn’t notice… You loved him too.”

Still she stood in silence.

"Well, someone's ought to remind you-"

"What?" (Y/N) snapped.

"You're nothing without Victoria behind you."

"How dare you-" (Y/N) started, pulling out her wand and aimed it at Leta.

“(Y/N).” Victoria’s voice called.

(Y/N) gasped.

“Mummy’s calling.” Leta teased before turning to walk away.

#fbawtft #fbtcog #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander #fantastic beasts fanfiction #wizarding world #harry potter fanfiction #Series: ILYMS

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lostinfic · 4 years ago

Text

Art for Hearts’ Sake

Pairing: Jean-François Mercier/Betty Vates

Rated E | 4400 words

Summary: Betty works in a care home and every week she sneaks out one of her elderly patients to a nearby art gallery. There she meets a mysterious Frenchman. He's an art dealer of some kind, or so she thinks, until he takes her on whirlwind escapade.

Fluff and smut / Art thief AU (loosely based on The Thomas Crown Affair)

Ao3

Betty peeked outside the room, left and right. At the end of the corridor, Mrs. Mansfield opened the door to the stairwell. As soon as it closed behind her, Betty whispered: “The coast is clear.”

“Let’s go.”

Eighty-three year-old, Maurice Delorme, donned his fedora, pushing it low on his forehead to shade his eyes.

Betty pushed his wheelchair out of the bedroom, down the corridor and into the hall. She winked at 92-year-old Annette who shrieked, clutching her chest, thus distracting the nurse away from the front desk. Betty and Maurice rushed past the reception area, out the front doors and around the building.

Betty stopped to catch her breath. Maurice laughed wheezily, slapping his thigh.

“We did it, ma chère.”

“Remind me to get that fudge Annette likes.”

“Did I ever tell you I once saw her perform at La Scalla de Milan in 1963?”

“Have you?” Betty replied though, of course, she had heard the story before. She didn’t mind, Maurice had had the most amazing life, and she enjoyed his reminiscence however embellished they might be.

The St. James, where she worked, was a small and exclusive care home for elderly millionaires. Certainly nothing like the conditions in which her mother had lived. For many years, Betty had taken care of her mother, who suffered from an early-onset form of dementia, in their small flat in Leeds. When her mother passed away, Betty not only had to grieve for her parent, but also for the many years during which she had put her own life on hold. The day after the funeral, she’d looked at herself in the mirror and realized she didn’t know who she was. On a whim, she had moved to London and promised herself to live life to the fullest.

Things had turned out significantly less glamorous than expected. She couldn’t afford a home in a desirable neighborhood. And, with no formal education or work experience to speak of, she had found employment doing the same chores she had done for her mother. At least, at the St. James, she was paid for it, had real days off, and suffered less verbal abuse. Most of all, moving away had not magically rid her of her shyness and anxieties. Wherever she went, they followed, but she was getting better at giving them the slip.

Part of living life to the fullest had involved letting Maurice convince her to sneak him out of the care home. His doctor advised against any taxing activities and public spaces where germs abounded. But he longed to visit a museum or a gallery.

“What is a life without art, but a body without a heart?” he’d complained dramatically.

And thus had begun their weekly escapades.

Just a few streets away from the care home was Kinwood Palace, an illustrious property with a world-class art collection open to the public. Betty loved the gorgeous gardens, but Maurice was here for the Rembrandts and Vermeers.

Betty pushed her accomplice over the gravel leading to the neoclassical villa. Despite being hot from the physical effort and warm summer air, Betty kept her cute coat on to hide her unflattering scrubs. She liked the coat’s sixties vibe with its big black buttons and bright colour, something she would never have worn before.

Tourists already filled the great blue and white entrance hall of Kinwood. Maurice flashed their English Heritage membership cards to the box office clerk. Betty scanned the crowd.

“Shall we pay a visit to Boticelli today?” Maurice asked. She nodded inattentively. “Or shall we visit Ringo Starr?”

“Whichever you prefer.”

“Betty, are you looking for him? The Frenchman.”

“Dunno what you’re on about.”

But her blushing cheeks betrayed her.

“You should invite him for— what is it youths call it?— ah, yes, for Netflix and chill.”

She burst out laughing. Her laughter echoed in the gallery, and she promptly slapped a hand over her mouth.

“If I were your age, I would invite him,” Maurice said.

“You were married when you were my age. And you loved Felicia.”

“Yes, yes. I could never love another woman after her. But I was always curious about sodomites… Do you think you could find me a rent boy, dear?”

She giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Well?” he insisted.

“Oh... Maybe?”

“It was good enough for Leonardo, after all,” he said as they stopped in front of framed sketches drawn by da Vinci himself.

Every room of Kinwood palace was breathtaking, Rococo frescoes decorated the walls between Roman columns, and hanging from the coffered ceiling, massive chandeliers sparkled. And there were books, so many books, and vases of fresh flowers everywhere. As Maurice admired the masterpieces in gilded frames, Betty imagined herself living in a place like this, a century ago, or imagined being an actress in a period drama.

“He’s here,” Maurice whispered.

“Who?”

“Who?” he parroted; She wasn’t fooling him.

She glanced sideways and spotted the Frenchman, smoking just outside the garden doors, his jacket hooked on a finger over his shoulder. His hair was neatly pomaded, his trousers tailored, his shirt smooth and sharp: an old-fashioned sort of cool, straight out of her wet dreams.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she bit back a simper. She knew that from behind his sunglasses, he was studying her. One corner of his mouth rose in a languid, crooked smile.

Five times now they had visited Kinwood at the same time. Five times he had watched her from afar, with that penetrating gaze of his, the hesitated— no, not hesitated, evaluated or calculated— and finally approached her. Though he never stayed long in their company, he’d made a lasting impression on both her and Maurice.

He’d said he was a subcontractor for Kinwood, as an art appraiser, she assumed because of the way he observed everything. Including Betty herself. Being seen, it unsettled her. Most days she felt indistinguishable from a potted plant. Perhaps a side effect of having lived with a mother who couldn’t recognize her anymore for years. Though Betty considered herself plain by contemporary standards, she liked to think that, on a good day, she had a hint of beauty from another era. Perhaps he could appreciate that.

He greeted Maurice warmly, in French, then turned to her, “I thought I’d recognized your laugh.” He pocketed his sunglasses, then took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

To anyone, she would have claimed he was laying it on a bit thick, but deep down she melted.

“Son nom est Betty et elle est célibataire,” Mr. Delorme said to the Frenchman.

Betty glared at him, though she didn’t know what he’d said beside her name.

“I’m Jean-François,” he said, mostly to her.

They walked together through the rooms, and soon forgot about the art. He had a way of mentioning things she had said in previous conversations: he’d read a book she liked, and he asked after the stray kittens she worried. Betty, too, remembered every word he had ever said to her, but was trying very hard to look like she didn’t. But here he was, being so openly infatuated, she’d convinced herself it was too good to be true. Yet every time they met, her misgivings vanished, and she let herself be thoroughly charmed.

They stopped in front of a small canvas, “The Enchanted Castle” by Claude Gellée, and this time Betty paid attention.

“It’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?” Jean-François remarked.

“I like landscapes the best. They’re like a window to another place, another time. I can almost… jump in. Escape.”

She covered her mouth, regretting that last word. But Jean-François brushed her hand away.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Emboldened by his touch, Betty said, “Would you— I mean, I’m working now, but later, maybe we could— if you’d like…”

“Yes,” he said again.

“Okay.” She laughed and bit her bottom lip.

“But first, I have a painting to steal.”

“What?”

He slipped his jacket on and popped the collar. He said a few words in French to Mr. Delorme, then vanished out of the gallery.

Betty blinked, mouth agape. Well, that’s one way of getting dumped.

“Oh, no, I think I dropped my pills,” Mr. Delorme said, patting his breast pockets. “I swear I had them.”

“I’ll go look for them,” she said, thankful for an excuse to get away.

Fifteen minutes later, she found the bottle of medication in the antechamber thanks to a security guard. After that, Mr. Delorme asked to leave.

On the way back, Betty didn’t say a word. In her mind, she kept replaying the scene, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong. Her eyes teared up, but she blamed it on the dry wind. Humiliation, sadness and anger warred in her chest.

They weren’t careful going back inside the care home and were caught by the nurse at the front desk. Mrs. Manfield was a real stickler for rules and disliked Betty.

“We were only out in the garden,” Maurice retorted before Betty could gather her wits.

The nurse narrowed her eyes at them. “If I find out otherwise…” she warned.

Betty could lose her job over these little escapades, all for what? A rich old man and a weird Frenchman?

She took Mr. Delorme back to his room. With an unusually cold attitude, she helped him out of his outerwear and onto the armchair in front of the TV. Her behaviour shocked him, and he tried to soothe her with jokes and charm, but she ignored him.

“We won’t be going back to Kinwood palace,” she announced and left his apartments.

She went back to work, to menial tasks and being called by other carers’ names.

By the end of her shift at 5 pm, on top of the humiliation, sadness, anger and fear of losing her job, she was now feeling guilty about having been so cold with Mr. Delorme. She changed out of her dirty scrubs into her own clothes. Putting on the yellow sundress and cardigan cheered her up. She decided to pay Maurice a visit before leaving.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Delorme. I panicked.”

“Don’t worry about it, ma chère.” He patted her hands. “You will feel better soon, I just know it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am.” He winked.

She chalked it up to his eccentric nature, but then there was a knock at the door.

“Told you,” he said.

Betty opened the door and gasped at finding Jean-François standing there.

“Good evening, Betty.”

“What— what are you doing here?”

“I have some unfinished business.”

He closed the door behind him and walked to Mr. Delorme’s wheelchair. He knelt beside it and fiddled with the underside, finally pulling out a slim leather case.

“Let’s see it,” Mr. Delorme said, rubbing his hands excitedly.

In a smooth move, Jean-François set the case on the table, flipped the locks and revealed its content: a painting. A painting from the Kinwood collection. One of her favorites: a moonlit forest by Joseph Wright of Derby.

“Tell me it’s a very good fake,” she whispered.

“There is a very good fake,” he said, “whether it’s in that case or at the gallery, well…” he smirked.

He closed back the case and checked his watch.

“Perfect.” Jean-François offered her his arm. “Are you ready for our date?”

Betty rubbed her brow and laughed incredulously. She cast a glance at Mr. Delorme who was nothing but encouraging.

“Where would we go?”

“First, I am going to hang this in my home, then we can grab a bite to eat. Is that all right with you?”

Mr. Delorme whispered, “Netflix and chill.”

Betty felt rooted on the spot. Her first instinct was to refuse. Going to a stranger’s house on the first date, a stranger who might be a thief? That was a bad idea. A fantastically terrible idea. A terribly alluring idea.

She looped her arm through his. Striding out of her place of work on his arm, she felt like a million bucks. Which is to say, less than what that masterpiece was worth.

Outside the doors, a gleaming vintage Jaguar awaited them, chauffeur standing straight beside it. They slipped in the backseat. When the door closed, butterflies erupted in Betty’s stomach.

The chauffeur smoothly navigated the traffic and drove them just outside London, to a private aerodrome. Jean-François opened the car door for her just as two men in coveralls rolled a ladder up to a small aircraft.

In a daze, Betty held Jean-François’s hand and followed him inside the cockpit. He buckled her seat harness and gave her some instructions she barely registered. He flicked switches and talked to Ground Control.

“Ready?” he asked her.

Betty should have been scared, but she couldn’t muster any fear, only excitement. Perhaps that’s what should have scared her.

She took a deep breath. “Ready.”

He taxied the plane into position and down the runway, faster and faster. Betty’s heart rate accelerated. Jean-François pulled back the controls, and as they rose in the air, a flush of adrenaline tingled through her body. Soon, they were flying over twilit London.

“Where are we going?”

“Like I said, to my home, first.”

She laughed as the blue-grey waters of the Channel appeared on the horizon. France straight ahead.

Her cheeks ached from smiling, and her heart never slowed.

They landed on a small strip in the middle of a wooded area. Betty’s legs wobbled when she stood up. Jean-François offered his hand to help her deplane. He was so frustratingly cool and composed for someone who’d just flown a stolen masterpiece across the border.

The country air was pure and warm. They weren’t in Paris, but in southern France. They walked along a trail then a grand villa came into view. Whitewashed stone, terracotta roof and blue shutters among ambitious vines and towering cypresses. Dogs ran in the tall grass, and wildflowers decorated the lawn. Solar panels hinted at an off-the-grid lifestyle.

“So?” he asked with a sweeping gesture.

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “Showoff.”

“When else can I show off if not on the first date?”

“All I’m saying is you’re setting the bar pretty high for the second date.”

She thought, even if this turns out to be all a ruse to get her in bed, even if he sends her back to London tomorrow without a goodbye, she didn’t care. It would be worth it. She deserved an incredible fling.

A middle-aged housekeeper came out to greet him and narrowed her eyes at his guest.

“You brought someone with you, monsieur?”

“Don’t worry, Marie.”

He stepped forward, still holding Betty’s hand, but she tugged him back.

“Hey, if I’m not back for my shift tomorrow morning, Mr. Delorme knows I’m with you and what you did.”

“Understood.” He bowed slightly. A curl fell to his forehead. “Smart girl.”

Although the house was old, the interior was modern. Selected antiques blended harmoniously with the warm, minimalist style. Crown molding and tapestries hid a high-end security system. She caught a glimpse of a library and of a workshop filled with art supplies. Portraits hung on the walls, going back generations. A photo of a younger Jean-François with a woman stood out: a wedding portrait. At the sight of it, Betty stopped dead in her tracks. Her nails bit into her palms. She didn’t trust her voice to ask a question evenly.

“Ah.” He scratched the back of his head. “She… she passed away five years ago.”

“I’m sorry. I thought— well, I’m sorry.”

He hesitated by the photo. For the first time, he looked almost destabilized.

“You thought what?” he asked after such a long pause she didn’t understand his question right away. “That I was a playboy?”

“Maybe. Are you?”

“Is that why you came with me?”

“No.”

He studied her for a moment then brushed a knuckle along her jaw. Without another word, he resumed guiding her through the house.

He led her to the living room. There was another painting in here: a large canvas of hazy water lilies.

“Another very good fake?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

He carefully removed the Wright of Derby painting from the leather case.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She had many thoughts, mostly about all the people who wouldn’t get to see it now.

“Dunno,” she said. “Will you sell it?”

“No. I will deliver it to Maurice’s granddaughter in Vienna. But until then...”

He placed the canvas upon a wooden picture ledge above the fireplace. The moonlit landscape shone against the plain wall.

“Hold on. What? Mr. Delorme?”

“The painting belonged to his wife’s family, but it was stolen by Nazis in ‘38.”

“Are you telling me you’re some sort of Robin Hood?”

“Oh, no. My fees are exorbitant.”

She snorted a laugh.

“Couldn’t they get it back legally?”

“They tried. In the 1960s, I believe. But they’d lost proof of ownership during the war, and the family at Kinwood denied any transaction with former Nazi officers, as one does.”

Betty puzzled over this new information. In less than twelve hours, her idea of him had shifted so many times she could hardly keep track. But one thing hadn’t changed: her attraction.

“You know, you nearly derailed my plans,” he said.

“How so?”

“A year of meticulous planning and then, out of nowhere, comes this lovely woman I cannot stop thinking about. I shouldn’t have let myself be seen talking to Maurice so often.”

“You’re having me on.”

“I brought you here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I gave in too easily. Where’s the challenge in that for you?”

“Where’s the challenge in letting someone get close to me?” A rhetorical question veiling a confession.

She tilted her head to the side and considered him. He let her.

“Was anyone hurt by your plan?”

“Not a soul, I swear.”

Marie brought in a bottle of red wine with two glasses and a plate of cheese, bread and thin slices of roasted duck.

Jean-François pressed a button on the wall. Curtains swayed aside, revealing tall sliding glass doors that framed a landscape not unlike the one in the painting. One of the doors was open, warm air swirled in, balmy with dew and night blossoms.

He opened the wine bottle and sampled its bouquet. Satisfied, he filled their glasses which they rose in a silent toast to whatever delights the night might bring. Drinking, she stared at the landscape outside. Beyond a small terrace, the ground sloped to a valley where centennial trees grew around a lake, mist skated upon its silvery surface. Away from the city lights, myriad stars shone in the night sky.

An escape.

The glass pane hazily reflected Jean-François as he came to stand behind her. She felt his warmth radiate over her skin though he wasn’t touching her yet. Drawn in, she leaned back, just a little, an invitation, an ouverture.

He trailed a single finger from her earlobe, down her neck, to her shoulder. And she shivered with longing. He gently swiped her hair away, and his lips replaced his finger, careful, precise kisses, inching towards the strap of her dress and sliding it aside.

“What does it feel like, striding into a gallery and taking whatever you want from the walls?”

“Calming. At that moment, I am utterly focused and in control. Then when I slip away with my prize, my blood begins to sizzle.”

“Is it still sizzling now?”

“Yes.”

He met her reflected gaze on the glass pane.

“Mine too,” she said.

She turned around in his arms, and he watched patiently as she put their glasses on a side table. Placing her hands upon his chest, she felt his sharp intake of breath, his rapid heartbeat. She slid her palms up to his neck, and his eyelids fluttered when her fingers delved into the locks at the back of his head. With a gentle push, she guided his lips to hers. He let her take the lead, modest and timid at first, then slowly yielding to instinct and hunger. When she opened her mouth to his, he cupped her cheek and leaned into her until her back pressed to the window. He kissed her with dedication, with utter focus, tasting and caressing her lips, intent on making her tingle all over. Heat flared through her, and she arched into the curve of his body bent over her.

Oh boy.

Eyes still closed, she broke the kiss for air and licked his taste on her lips.

“That was some grade-A kissing,” she whispered.

Jean-François laughed and pecked her forehead. “I like you.”

“Yeah? ‘cause I stroke your ego?”

“Because you’re honest.”

“Well, if I’m being honest I'd very much like you to sweep me off my feet again.”

“As you wish.”

In one smooth move, he grabbed her thighs and hiked her up on his hips. Betty squeaked and held onto him. He kissed her against the glass door, exploring her neck and cleavage, all lips and teeth and tongue. She wound her legs tighter around him, seeking friction to soothe the throbbing he’d triggered. He sucked in a breath and bucked his hips.

He carried her outside, to a nearby wooden chaise lounge and laid her on the striped cushion.

She expected him to flip up her skirt and pound, but he knelt beside the chair. He rubbed her ankles, then slid his hand up her leg to her knee. Betty’s breath quickened. She parted her legs. The ascension continued, his hand slipped underneath the hem of her skirt and up inside her thigh. He stopped inches from her underwear, and kissed her again. It was agony to have his hand so close to where she needed it. His mouth traveled to her breasts, he pulled down the bodice of her dress, just enough to access a nipple. Betty squirmed and keened, and finally his fingers slipped inside her knickers.

She looked like a Renaissance muse, lounging, with her arms over her head, one breast bare, and layers of fabric bunched about her waist. And he studied her as he sought the spots that made her sigh and cry. Her lewd noises accompanied the cicadas’ song. And she should’ve been ashamed to make such a wanton display, but the heat in his eyes was worth it.

This man could take anything he wanted, and he had chosen her.

She came embarrassingly fast.

He licked his fingers and grinned.

“Showoff,” she said again.

She grabbed his tie and pulled him over her. He laughed against her lips, and it hurt with how good it felt to share this joke, this joy.

She blindly unknotted his tie as he fumbled with his buttons. Unable to wait any longer, she cupped the tantalizing bulge in his trousers. He groaned and that filled her with pride.

He stood up to take off his trousers, and she made him recline on the chaise. With half-lidded eyes, he observed her straddling his legs. She admired him, as he had her. His hair was completely disheveled now. His open shirt revealed a lean, firm chest and taut stomach down which she dragged her fingernails. His cock twitched as she neared it. She teased the surrounding skin until he growled her name. She stroked him to full hardness, enjoying the way he hardened in her hand. Because of her.

And now, for the pièce de résistance. She rose to her knees, and Jean-François’s jaw went slack. She had barely had time to enjoy his fingers, but she planned on savouring this. Slowly and with a long, luxuriating moan, she slid down every inch of him, wetting him to the root.

He gripped her hips, urging her to move. His chest heaved with panting breaths. She gorged herself on his lust and desperation. With every bounce, her dress slid lower down her torso.

She held onto the top of the seat for leverage, but she must have been too vigorous for the adjustable back suddenly collapsed. Betty yelped and Jean-François caught her.

“Crikey!” she said, pressing a hand to her heart.

“Are you hurt?”

“Scared me half to death, but I’m okay. You?”

“I’m fine.”

They looked at each other, then broke into a loud guffaw. Mirth and embarrassment heated her cheeks. She truly couldn’t stop laughing. Jean-François even teared up.

“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” he said. It came out so naturally, it was almost reckless by his standards.

Her heart swelled, and she kissed him. He rolled on top of her, spurred on by this small shot of adrenaline.

Betty shivered; it was getting cold outside.

“Shall we go back inside?” he asked.

“If you don’t mind.”

They picked up their clothes and closed the patio door. With a remote control, he turned on the fireplace.

He picked up his glass of wine from where she’d left them. He drank while watching her undress and lie down on the plush carpet, in the orange glow of the flames. With a beckoning smile, she extended a hand toward him. He removed the last of his clothes and crawled over her.

Skin to skin, bodies entwined, they moved together. And suddenly it was so tender and so very real. A leisurely give-and-take of pleasure. Delight and satisfaction mirrored in each other’s face. They gasped and moaned and laughed, then fell silent, foreheads together, fingers entwined, staring in each other’s eyes, toeing the edge of bliss.

Even after climaxing, they didn’t part. Jean-François buried his face in her neck and held her even closer.

Betty looked up at the stolen painting, and, for once, didn’t feel the pull to lose herself in its landscape. She closed her eyes and stroked his hair and thought nothing would ever be this perfect.

Eventually, hunger and thirst caught up with them. They put their underwear back on, and Betty borrowed Jean-François’s shirt.

They ate, sitting on the carpet, their legs still entwined. The wine, the cheeses, the meat, everything was unbelievably tasteful. She licked her fingers clean and refilled their glasses. Jean-François slouched down, head against the couch, unwound like she had never seen him before.

“Betty, do you still want to go back to London in time for your morning shift?”

“Goodness no.”

“Good. I know an excellent restaurant in Vienna. It’s inside a tropical greenhouse, you’ll love it.”

“Vienna?”

“How is that for a second date?”

#Mercier x Betty #spies of warsaw #a passionate woman #teninch fic #lostinfic writes stuff

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aqua-the-smiter · 4 years ago

Text

Wind Guide You

Chapter 2 - The Runaway

Arcee was just out for a walk. That’s all.

Why couldn’t she ever catch a break?

Her peds crunched along the gravelly ground and her servos were clasped behind her back as she slowly trudged forward, going nowhere in particular, just out to clear her processor. The land was barren and surrounded by cliffs and ridges, and the sky was overcast, swathed in a blanket of grey clouds that took away most of the shadows. It was calm if a bit gloomy, and the wind whispered over the ground, occasionally flicking pebbles.

The two-wheeler guessed it was just one of those days where everything was dull and a bit slow. She could tell some of the other ‘bots felt it as well, and seeing as there were no present emergencies to tend to, she’d come out here. Partially for some peace, partially just because she wanted to be alone, and (though she’d never admit it out loud) she still felt a need deep in her spark to silently mourn Cliffjumper.

Maybe it was silly. Maybe she should have gotten over it by now. She had, somewhat, but something in her still ached everything she thought of him. Thus, she took small chunks of her time every day to grieve, and it slowly minimized her pain by degrees, bit by bit. It helped.

What didn’t, however, was finding a Decepticon passed out among the stones.

“What in the Pit? ” Arcee asked herself out loud, staring down at the dull silver chassis of Megatron’s right servo bot.

Starscream.

At first she thought he was dead. He was lying as still as the rocks he was surrounded by, but as she watched him, she noticed like bits of movement: a wing flicking, a digit scraping, a ped twitching. No, he was still among the living, unfortunately.

She stood frozen, staring at the motionless form of the seeker, the very ‘Con who had murdered the bot she was out here mourning. Her spark clenched in anger, and she let one of her servos turn into a blaster before backing up and lowering her arm, trying to calm herself. It would be stupid to just shoot him right off the bat.

Think, Arcee.

Primus, she wanted to just shoot him in the faceplates and be done with it. He was the reason Cliff was gone, and he’d put them through so much grief besides that, both on Earth and off. Her spark seethed, even the small bit of pity she held for him not enough to quench her desire to pay him the same mercy he’d paid Cliff; that meant none at all.

She took a better look at him. He looked...ragged. Worn out, like he’d been flying solo for a while, the kind of wear that couldn’t be faked. Her optics widened when they landed on his chest plate. The Decepticon insignia was gone, and in its place were scratches. She thought hard. How long ago had their last battle with the ‘Cons been?

Somehow, by some miracle, Starscream had defected between the aftermath of then and now. What else could it be? Maybe a trap, but something like this wasn’t Megatron’s style. Sure, he could’ve been kicked out, but if he had been, most likely, if she even found him, he’d be a corpse. He decidedly was not that.

She sat next to his still chassis, thinking. What to do with a possibility renegade ‘con? Primus, her luck was shoddy.

She was oblivious to how long she’d been there, feeling the cold breeze over her chassis, listening to it howl between the empty places in the rocks. Starscream did nothing more than twitch.

What to do, what to do?

It would be easiest to just terminate his aft right there, pull the thorn that was him out of their collective sides right away. Nearly all of her wanted to, and yet...that little drop of pity still yanked at the edge of her processor. She didn’t know exactly why, but something about the ‘Con just made her feel bad for him. Maybe it was the desperate way he vied for Megatron’s favor, maybe it was the fact he was always getting whacked in the ankles every time something was going right, or maybe it was just that he was excellent at making that particular sad face. There was something just...pathetic about him, and she granted him a bit of mercy for it.

Wait…

Call Prime. Of course, the simplest solutions were often the best, and she berated herself for not having thought of it sooner. It should have been the first thing that sprung to mind.

Maybe she was still much angrier about Cliffjumper than she thought.

-Optimus, it’s Arcee.- she said over her comms.

-We were just starting to get worried about you.- came the reply of his usual firm but kind tone. -Where have you been for so long?-

-Like I said, just out for a walk. You’ll never believe who I found.- she baited, her voice unintentionally taking on the same excited tone as Miko’s whenever Wheeljack came around.

-Did you run into trouble? If you've found an energon mine, come back, don’t try and clear it yourself.- Prime warned, sounding for all the worlds like a gently chiding father.

-That was one time , I’m fine. I didn’t go out looking for trouble, it found me, in the form of Starscream. He’s recharging on the ground right next to me, all dinged up. What do you want me to do with him?- she asked, getting straight to the point, and trying not to sound too willing to offline him.

-Starscream?- The Prime paused, just a little bit alarmed -Are you sure he’s alone? Is there anything off about him?-

-He scratched his insignia off his chest. Just a bunch of claw marks there now. It looks like he’s defected. He’s definitely still alive.- Arcee confirmed.

-Scratched the insignia off his chest.- Optimus repeated slowly, the gears in his processor whirling. That sounded like a sure sign of defection. Was it too much to hope for? He has long since seen potential in bringing Starscream over to the Autobots, and now might be his chance. -Give me your coordinates and wait there with him. I’ll meet you there.-

-Personally?- Arcee asked in surprise. -Are you sure?-

-I’m sure. Don’t worry, I won’t come alone.-

-Alright.- She relented, berating herself. This was Optimus Prime. There was nothing to worry about.

<>{◇}<>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The familiar green spirals of the groundbridge gave way to the figures of Prime, Ratchet and Bulkhead. Arcee rose to her peds when she saw them, raising an arm in greeting. Starscream still rested next to her, optics firmly offlined. She resisted the urge to give him a swift kick and ran over to her comrades.

“Hey ‘Cee!” Bulkhead called to her. “Where’d you dig up Screamer?”

“He was on the floor when I got here.” Arcee replied, hands on her hips as the four of them made their way over to the recharging seeker. She nudged him with the toe of her ped as the others looked on. “And if you’ll look to your right you’ll see the Decepticon’s possible ex-commander, passed out cold.” she gestured to him with a servo.

“He looks like a Predacon chewed him.” Ratchet said, eyeing him warily. “Probably been on his own for a while now. Almost definitely has an energon deficiency.”

“You can tell all that from looking at him?” Arcee questioned, raising an optic ridge.

“More or less. I’ve been at this for a long time, you know.” Ratchet said, his tone implying a lecture if this conversation kept rolling

“So...what are we going to do with him? We can’t just leave old Screamer here, can we?” Bulkhead asked.

“Who says we can’t?” Arcee spat. “If we take him with us, he becomes even more of our problem then he already is.”

“We’re not leaving him.” Optimus interjected, his voice having an air of finality.

“Why?!” Arcee exclaimed, failing to tamp down her anger. “What could we possibly do with Starscream of all bots?!”

Optimus gave her one of his looks that could possibly make even Unicron himself feel guilty. “We could help him, make him one of us. Show him the mercy he was never granted from Megatron.”

“And that he never granted Cliffjumper!”

“If we pull him to us, he’ll never be in a position to do what he did to Cliffjumper again.” he replied coolly. Arcee said nothing, just crossed her arms and turned away.

There was no argument after that. Optimus was determined, and he made a good point. They brought Starscream to the base, dragging him home like an abandoned kitten found on the side of the road.

<>{◇}<>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starscream’s red optics flew open and were greeted to complete darkness and silence. He felt strange, and it took him a few moments to realize he wasn’t hallucinating or shaking from energon starvation anymore. That should have been comforting, but it only shot him through with fear. Someone had gone through some effort to take care of him. Had Megatron found him? Was he back in the belly of the Pit that was the Nemesis?

His head whipped back and forth trying to get some kind of grip on his surroundings but it was black as pitch. He tried to sit up, but his wrists and ankles were tied down to the berth. Megatron must have found him when he collapsed, there was no other explanation. He was probably thinking up some new, horrifically creative way to ensure his loyalty, or wanted him for some nightmarish way to end his life. His spark was hammering inside it’s chamber.

His bonds wouldn’t break no matter how hard he strained at them, but that could possibly be because he was too weakened after so much time alone and with no energon. He felt his optics well up with washer fluid as his spark pounded, so loud in his audials he would’ve sworn anyone outside this...place could hear it writhing in his chest as he started to shake and quiver.

An audial-splitting shriek tore from his voice box as he tried to tear free of his bonds, his back arching as he struggled.

He couldn’t do this again.

#fanfic #fanfiction #transformers prime #tfp #tfp arcee #tfp starscream

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Sub Rosa [51]

vi. we will rise

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: angst, language, fighting, death, violence, sad goodbyes, blood and a v bloody death.

Summary: an important trip to deliver the last few barrels of hydrazine to becca’s island is met with some unexpected challenges.

a/n: the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 20th, 2150; Arkadia (what’s left of it)

It’s late, or early, depending on how you look at it, when Kane pulls you, Bellamy, Clarke, and Monty into the Chancellor’s office for a quick update. “Most of the fire is out, and we’ve salvaged what we can. Monty, I need you to run diagnostics and do a damage check on all of Alpha Station, report back to me in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Griffin girls and Bellamy, I need the three of you to get some rest, because when daylight breaks, I'm sending the three of you out.”

“To do what?”

“Abby radioed. They discovered that Becca went to space to make Nightblood, because the lack of gravity helps everything to bind properly. Becca has a rocket in the lab, and they need all of the hydrazine we have to get that rocket into the air and back down again with the Nightblood solution. I need the three of you to deliver that hydrazine.”

All three of you nod in agreement, and he gives a single resolute nod. “Good. Now get some rest, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“See you then.”

The three of you leave the office in a quiet group, silently walking back towards your rooms. Luckily, your room and Clarke’s are among the ones spared by the fire, though others weren’t so lucky. You feel guilt at the thought of walking back to your room and sleeping in your bed while others can't, but the soreness in your legs and feet prevents you from thinking about it much further. When you reach the junction in the hall that takes you your separate ways, Clarke pulls you into a hug and whispers, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

She smiles at you both before turning and heading down the hall towards her room, and Bellamy reaches out for your hand and intertwines your fingers before leading you back to your shared quarters. The smell of smoke lingers in the air, despite sustaining no damage, reminding you of the blow you all received. You trudge into the room, exhausted, and as soon as Bellamy closes the door behind you, the weight of the world comes crashing down on you. Your near death experience, the realization that you’re a killer, the loss of Alpha Station's safety from the death wave, it all weighs down on you, and you drop to your knees.

The tears are falling from your face before your knees even make contact with the ground, and Bellamy is at your side in a flash. He doesn't say anything as a sob breaks free from your chest, he just pulls you into his arms and rubs comforting circles onto your back as he hums Clair de lune.

You stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms on the floor of your home, crying for everything that happened today, yesterday, the week before, while on the ground, up in space. You cry until you’re utterly exhausted, slumped over in Bellamy’s grip, ready to fall asleep right then and there. But Bellamy, ever caring, doesn't allow that. He carries you over to the bed and sits you on the edge, before kneeling down in front of you to rid you of your boots. He tosses them to the side, before walking to your storage area and grabbing one of his spare shirts. He comes back to you and pulls off your jacket and then your shirt, before tugging his shirt down and over your head, wrapping you in his comforting scent. Then he gently eases you backwards and shimmies your pants down your legs, leaving you in peak comfort.

He quickly undresses down to his underwear before sliding into the bed beside you, tucking both of you under the blanket until you’re wrapped inside a cocoon of comfort. He turns until he’s facing you, his mouth lifting at the corners as he takes you in. Despite your swollen eyes and tear stained face, despite the quiet sniffles that slip from you, he whispers, “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. That’s probably the first thing I ever noticed about you.”

Your nose scrunches, disbelieving, “Really?”

“Really. That and your strength. When I saw you in the hallway with Shumway that day, I could tell you were scared, but you didn't let that stop you. You took your fear and turned it into strength, and used it as a weapon against him.”

You feel yourself melt a little, and he reaches up and pushes back the hair around your face. “I’ll always be in awe of the anger you possess. I don't know how so much anger can exist in one person, but even when it was directed at me, I was always in awe of the electric energy that seems to reside within you. And despite having all that anger, you’re one of the kindest people I have ever known. It would be so easy for you to let your anger rule you until you are nothing but sharp edges and harsh words, but you don’t. You manage to see the good in everyone, even when they're trying to kill you.”

You shake your head. “Not with Pike.”

“That’s because he threatened your family, and that's an entirely different story. You’re loyal and fiercely protective over the ones you love. I pity anyone who threatens your family, because I know their outcome isn't favorable. Your kindness sometimes allows you to forgive others more than they may deserve, but that ends when it comes to your family.”

“You’re my family.”

He softens at the words, something unfamiliar to him in the last few years, as his family was torn apart. “And you’re mine.”

You smile at him, and he leans forward slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling away to look at you again. “My blainen natshana, my protective spitfire, my love, my forever.”

“I love you, Bellamy Blake.”

“I love you more than the stars, in this lifetime, and in the next.”

“Forever.”

Both of you smile at each other, everything okay for a little while. Because for now, you can ignore the impending doom and the desolation of your home, everything blocked out by the strength of Bellamy’s love. You fall asleep smiling at each other, basking in that warmth, at peace and full of love.

Clarke looks at you, a mischievous look on her face, “Put it on.”

You eye the long sleeve top and gray overall dress, the same clothes she wears to school everyday. The clothes you've never been allowed to wear, because you’re not supposed to exist. You stare at your twin, at the missing tooth in the front of her smile, identical to the missing tooth in your own grin. The second Clarke saw the gap in your grin, she messed with her tooth everyday until it was loose enough to pull out, refusing to look any less identical than you do right now. Neither of you know it yet, but as you grow older, you’ll become less and less identical. Enough similarities remain that some people know, right off the bat, and some people only guess because they’ve heard the stories. But right now, in your youth, in the time before anything seems serious, you look like copies of each other. Any differences you have right now are so subtle, no one could tell the difference.

Which is exactly why Clarke is holding her school clothes out to you. “Just one day, la lune! You’ll get to see the Ark and meet Wells. It’s field trip day today, and we’re going on a tour of the ship, so no one will be paying any attention to you.”

“But then you’ll miss out on the field trip.”

“I’ve seen everything already, but you haven’t. You deserve to see the Ark.”

You eye the clothes again, before taking them from her grip. She gives you a triumphant smile as you dress quickly, and she changes into your clothes as soon as you’re out of them. Then she helps you braid your hair before turning you around to look at the small mirror you share. “I look just like you.”

Clarke laughs, loud and bright, her joy always so infectious. “Of course you do, we’re twins.”

You give her an annoyed look. “I know, but mom and dad can still tell us apart. Maybe this will actually fool them.”

“Stop worrying, this is foolproof.”

You start to counter her argument, but your mom bursts into the room, waving her hand towards you frantically. “Clarke, why aren't you out here, honey? We’re going to be late.”

“Sorry mom.”

You walk towards her, waiting for her to notice that you’re not Clarke, but she never does. She takes your hand when you reach her, and leads you straight through the living room and to the front door. Once you’re out in the hall, her hand doesn't drop yours, and you relish in this small moment with your mother. Something so common for Clarke, because this is a walk they take together everyday, but so rare for you. You turn and look at every surrounding as you walk by, but you stop when your mom tugs on your hand and asks, “What’s wrong with you today?”

You don't get to answer, because a man turns the corner and starts walking down the hall, and your mom stiffens at the sight of him. She freezes in place when he stops in front of her. “Abby.”

“Marcus. Heading to the meeting?”

“Yes. Are you?”

She motions towards you. “I have to drop Clarke off first, and then I’ll be right there. If I’m a little late, start without me.”

“I’ll pass the message along.” The man, Marcus, turns his attention to you. “Clarke, I heard there’s a field trip today, a tour of the Ark and its jobs?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing the Medical Facility, since Abby here says you want to be a doctor.”

“I don’t want to be a doctor.” You pull a face and add, “Besides, I want to see the library.”

Marcus gives you a weird look, and you feel your mother turn towards you sharply, and only then do you realize your mistake. Clarke does want to be a doctor like your mom, and right now, you’re supposed to be Clarke. Your mother gives Marcus a polite smile. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

She pulls you around him, practically dragging you down the hall, until she reaches an abandoned corridor. And then she drops to her knees in front of you, reaching out and tugging the chain from under your shirt, exposing the small moon charm that hangs there. She whispers your name in disbelief, and she is livid as she looks at you. “What are you doing?”

“Clarke said I should get to see the Ark. I just wanted to explore, that’s all.”

Someone walks down the hall, past you and your mother, and your mom eyes them warily before standing and leading you straight back home. As soon as the door is closed behind her, she storms to the bedroom and grabs your twin, pulling up the sleeve on her wrist and exposing her star bracelet. Clarke’s face falls, knowing that you’re both caught, further confirming your mother’s suspicions. She leads you both to the couch and points at it angrily, before whisper yelling, “What were the two of you thinking? Do you know how dangerous it is for the two of you to switch places? We have talked about this before, if anyone finds out that you’re twins, our family will be punished. They will kill me, they will kill your dad, and they lock the two of you up, separating you.”

Your lip starts to quiver, upset that your mother is yelling at you, but horrified at the thought that you would be separated from your twin. Clarke experiences the same horror, because she tugs you into her arms, and starts to cry. “No, no, no, they can't take her from me!”

Your mom looks at Clarke in surprise, as she rarely has emotional outbursts, and she starts to soften, realizing she may have been too hard on the two of you. As you cling onto Clarke and she clings to you, your mother drops down in front of you, and puts a hand on each of your cheeks. “I know that it’s difficult that one of you gets to leave and the other can't. Me and your father try to keep things as even as we can with you two, but one of you will always be the twin that gets to go outside and meet people, and one of you will always be the invisible twin.”

She turns to look at Clarke. “Clarke, I know that you always want to fix things, and make your sister’s life better, but there are some things she won't get to experience, and there are some things you can't fix.”

She turns her gaze towards you. “I’m so sorry that you don't get to experience the world the same way that Clarke does. Maybe your father can figure something out and take you on a tour of the ship. Until then, the two of you need to be there for each other. Share your hardships, and give each other strength when you’re having a hard time, because you’re stronger together.”

“I’m sorry, mommy.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

“I know you are. Now, go switch clothes. Clarke, I want you at that door in two minutes. Don't make me come get you this time.”

It’s still early when you wake, the light of the morning barely kissing the horizon, and Bellamy is already awake when you pull your eyes open to the hungry world. You both get ready in quiet contentment, tossing things into your packs and dressing in an easy silence, your words from last night still hanging in the air. When both of you are ready and standing by the door, Bellamy turns to look at you. “If you’re not up for today, I can take the hydrazine by myself.”

You shake your head and press a quick kiss to his lips. “No need, I’m okay.”

He nods before leading you out the door and straight to the Chancellor’s office. You and Bellamy get there before Roan does, but Monty and Kane are already there and waiting when you arrive. As soon as you step in the door, Kane motions the two of you over, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The hydrazine is being loaded now, but before you leave, you need to hear this. Roan sent most of his army back to Polis to keep the peace now that the secret of Praimfaya is out, but on the way there, many have deserted the army and taken to burning Trikru villages to the ground. Your journey today will take you right through some of those territories, and it’ll likely be dangerous.”

You and Bellamy exchange a worried look, but the conversation is stopped from going any further when Roan steps into the room. You nod at each other in greeting, and everyone gathers around the table covered in maps, notes, and schematics, and Kane nods at Monty to begin. “Clarke said to get started without her since I already passed along this update. Sectors, 3, 4, and 5 sustained the worst damage. We lost the server room, all of our processors and life support systems, and half of our living quarters. Now, backup power will keep the lights on at night in the rooms that survived, but we'll have no heat or running water. And no way to restore it or reseal the ship before the radiation gets here.”

You shake your head, the extent of the destruction hitting you hard, despite the things you've had to endure on the Ark, both when it was in the sky and on the ground. You stare at the map of Alpha Station, and the big blocks of red that now cover most of the map, signaling their damage. “Is there any good news?”

Kane sighs, looking up from the same map you’re staring at. “Well, no one died.”

Clarke walks into the room just then, smiling at you in greeting before stopping beside Kane. “Forget the Ark, it was never gonna save us all anyway. We need to focus our resources on the Nightblood solution. Is the fuel loaded?”

Bellamy gives her a serious look. “It's in process, but, Clarke, it isn't gonna be an easy ride.”

“What don't I know?”

You all turn to Roan, knowing that the danger stems from Ice Nation, and he sighs, “With the secret of Praimfaya out, I sent Echo and my army back to Polis to keep the peace.”

“That's good. We need peace to distribute the cure.”

“More than half of them deserted on the way. With the end coming, they want to be home. I don't blame them.”

Bellamy quips, “Do you blame them for burning Trikru villages as they go?”

Roan gives him a sarcastic smile. “That's funny, coming from you.”

“Enough.” Kane looks between the two men, letting them know this is not the time. “We know the woods are a war zone. And after the attack on Ilian this morning, I can't spare many of the guards to protect you.”

Roan shrugs, “My security detail can protect us.”

“Thank you, that's very generous.”

“We are all in this together now.” Roan looks you all over once, before he turns to leave, signaling the end of the meeting. Kane glances between you and Clarke, and asks, “Can I talk to you two?”

You both nod, and you turn your gaze to Bellamy, who smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I'm gonna check on Octavia before we go. I’ll meet you at the truck.”

You nod, and as soon as he clears the room, with Monty right behind him, Kane turns to look between you. “I'm going with you.”

You and Clarke are already disagreeing before he even gets all the words out, both of you shaking your heads to let him know this isn't the right idea. “You can’t.”

“I'm the Chancellor.”

“That's why you can't.” You push the map of Alpha Station, mostly covered in red now, towards him, reminding him. “After everything that happened this morning, our people need you here, now more than ever. I know you're worried about our mother.”

“She's going into space...in a 100 year old rocket. Do you have any idea how many things could go wrong?”

Clarke takes over, more knowledgeable about the discussions from Becca’s Island. “Raven says the rocket's intact. She'd like a little more fuel, but as long as we get her what we've got, she said she'll get them both back down safely. Look, we have to try.”

You reach out and squeeze his arm. “I'll send her your love.”

He smiles at you, nodding in thanks. “Yes, please do that. And I'll make sure there's something left to save...when all of you get home.”

He reaches out and hugs Clarke, who seems surprised by the gesture at first, but eventually hugs him back, finding comfort in him. You watch them with a smile, and he reaches out for you once he pulls away from her. You hug him back just as fiercely as he hugs you, your connection to Kane much deeper than Clarke’s, considering the few near death experiences you’ve both shared. He pulls back and looks at both of you in admiration. “I know your father would be so proud of you both.”

You both smile at him, the mention of your dad making you a little teary eyed. He smiles back, before remembering the time sensitive journey ahead of you, and he motions towards the door. “Go. Radio when you make it.”

“Will do.”

You follow Clarke out the door as she leads you to the mini caravan set up for your journey. She glances at you as you walk that way, before turning to look back in the direction of the Chancellor’s office. “Do you think Kane is good for her? Mom, I mean.”

“I think so.” You think of all the comfort he offered her in the chaos of Pike’s Arkadia. “He’s come a long way since landing down here a few months ago. He’s definitely not the man he was on the Ark.”

“I can definitely agree with that.” She nods to someone in the distance, and you follow her gaze to the Ice Nation King. You still feel a little anger at him for taking you hostage, but it’s overshadowed by the importance of your trip today. Clarke nods towards the vehicles. “We’re going to lead the way in the Rover. You and your men will ride in back with the fuel.”

One of Roan’s men, who is lingering nearby, overhears this and immediately protests. “The King of Azgeda follows no one.”

Roan turns to the man, pacifying him. “It's all right, Seiku. Best we stay out of sight for now.”

He heeds the king’s words and steps away slightly, but his gaze is locked on you and Clarke, eyes hard and angry. You get the distinct feeling that you wouldn't want to cross him in a fight. Before he turns his gaze away from you, he growls, “Wanheda and Wanlida.”

You turn and look at him in confusion, the second time you’ve heard that name, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s a nickname, and it’s been given to you. Based on the tone he said it in, you don't think it's a compliment. You turn to Roan, brows lifting, asking him to translate, but the moment is ended by Bellamy's approach. “It’s time to go.”

You look at him, the tension in his jaw and shoulders, the hurt expression on his face, and you gather his goodbye to Octavia didn't go well. He doesn’t give you time to question him because he continues his stormy walk to the rover, and he is quickly replaced by Monty, who is now jumping out of the truck loaded with the fuel, and headed your way.

“All set?”

He nods, “Locked and loaded. I do, however, feel the need to reiterate: you're about to drive the last 10 barrels of hydrazine known to man, a cargo which Raven needs every last drop of, through hostile territory, packed with warring clans, over uneven roads, where one serious bump could cause an explosion that would not only kill all of you, but would wipe out mankind's only remaining chance for survival.”

You glare at him. “Comforting.”

Roan muses, “What could possibly go wrong?”

You and Clarke exchange quick goodbyes with Monty before helping to load Roan and his men into the back of the truck with the hydrazine. Before you turn away, Roan grabs your arm and mutters, “Wait.”

You look at him, and he reaches into his jacket, pulling out a knife, situated inside a thigh holster. You smile at it, forgetting that it was in Echo’s possession last, and Roan hands it to you. “Echo said this belongs to you.”

“It does, thank you.”

He nods at you and then releases his hold on your arm before stepping away from you, deeper into the truck. You nod at Clarke and the two of you head to the rover, where she jumps into the back and you jump into the passenger seat. Bellamy turns to you, expression expectant. “Ready?”

“Good to go.”

He starts the rover and directs it towards the camp’s exit, pulling away from your home and leading you towards possible salvation. As he maneuvers through the woods, you watch him closely, not missing the way his hands keep fidgeting on the wheel. Your voice drops low, trying to keep the conversation as private as possible. “Is it Octavia?”

“Keep your eyes on the trees.”

You ignore the attitude in his voice, knowing it’s not meant for you. “She hasn't forgiven you, has she?”

His jaw clenches, answering the question for you, and you glance back at Clarke, remembering the tense relationship you had with your twin when you landed on the ground. “Relationships don't fix themselves overnight. It’ll take time.”

“We don't have much of that left now, do we?” You shrug, knowing he’s right, but also knowing he can't force Octavia’s forgiveness. You open your mouth to share that with him, but the thought dies out as the rover turns the corner, revealing a group of Trikru members standing in the middle of the path. Bellamy lifts the radio to contact the truck of fuel behind you. “We got a situation, looks like a Trikru checkpoint. Stay alert, show no weapons. Keep your passengers on ice.”

“Copy.”

Clarke leans forward, between you and Bellamy, peering out the windshield at the group. “Wait, it's not a checkpoint. They have wounded.”

And before either of you can say anything to her, she turns and jumps out of the back of the truck, leaving you and Bellamy staring after her, dumbfounded. You turn and meet each other’s eyes, and he gives you an exasperated look. You nod in return, waving him off. “I know, I know. I’ll go get her.”

You hop out of the rover after her, while Bellamy updates the other vehicle, and you jog to catch up with your twin. As the two of you approach, a man turns and looks your way, running over to the two of you, looking pleased to see you both. “Wanheda. Wanlida.”

Same nickname. Said with a lot less hatred though. Clarke nods to the group. “What happened here?”

“Azgeda burned our village to the ground. My father caught an ax with his leg, and we can't stop the bleeding.”

The man motions towards the bleeding man on the ground, and as you and Clarke walk that way, you hear the door of the rover close, indicating that Bellamy is out of the vehicle and heading your way. Clarke bends down and inspects the wound, and you feel a hand at the small of your back, Bellamy, letting you know he's right behind you. It only takes a second for Clarke to realize that the femoral artery has been cut, and there’s nothing she can do to save him. She turns to look at you, expression grave, but then you see her eyes widen slightly at something behind you.

You turn and follow her gaze to a young Trikru boy, standing beside the fuel truck, looking up at the drivers. Clarke abruptly turns and looks at the man who greeted you. “I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do.”

Bellamy motions towards the Trikru men still spread out along the road, blocking your exit. “Think maybe you can clear the road?”

“Everyone, move!” The man follows you as you all hurry back to the rover, eager to get away from them before they realize their enemy is in the back of your second truck. “If you're headed to Polis, we could use a ride.”

Clarke scrambles into the back, shutting the door behind her, and you slide into the passenger seat quickly. Bellamy, however, is reaching for the door handle when he replies, “We're not headed to Polis.”

“Broadleaf and Plains Riders are moving against Azgeda, we want in.”

Bellamy ignores him, yelling to the kid who has now inched dangerously close to the back of the fuel truck. “Hey, kid, get away from there!”

The boy puts his hands up in surrender, taking a step backwards as he does, his eyes now falling on Roan and his men in the back of the truck. He immediately takes off running, screaming as he does, “Azgeda! Azgeda!”

“No!” Bellamy yanks the door open and scrambles inside, yelling, “Damn it!”

He puts the car in drive and takes off without a second thought, pushing his way through the people who have tried to gather in the road again. Arrows whiz past your vehicle as you make a hasty getaway, and there's nothing any of you can do but hope that the hydrazine is safe as you barrel through the woods as fast as you can.

Bellamy pushes the rover as fast as he can, trying to put as much distance that he can between you and the Trikru warriors. All of you sit in tense silence, the stress of the situation failing to dissipate, even as you reach the edge of the woods. The trees abruptly end and open up into a small, sandy shoreline, a quick moving river flowing in front of you. You and Bellamy exchange a look, knowing it shouldn't be there, before Bellamy radios, “Looks like we got another problem.”

Bellamy stops the vehicle before you all hop out, standing on the river's edge and watching the water move downstream. Clarke shakes her head. “Murphy didn't say anything about a river.”

“What else could go wrong?”

The sound of approaching footsteps in the sand alert you to Roan's presence before his voice does. “Ice melt. I'll find us a place to cross upstream.”

He starts to walk away, but Clarke calls out to him. “Wait, take the Rover. You'll cover more ground, and it'll be safer.”

Bellamy looks over at Roan, and then to Clarke, in disbelief. “With him?”

“We have to get across the river. The rest of us will stay here and guard the fuel.”

Bellamy’s eyes fall to you, and you give him a sassy smile. “You guys could use the bonding time. I’ll stay here, keep everyone out of trouble.”

He looks hesitant, and makes no move towards the rover. You step forward and kiss him, before pushing him away, towards the vehicle. “I”ll be fine. There’s a radio in the truck, I’ll call if we need help.”

He nods, but still seems unconvinced that he should leave you behind. Despite that, he gets inside, and calls out to you through the open window, “We won't be long. Eyes sharp.”

You and Clarke step away from the rover, moving to its other slide to be closer to the fuel truck. From this side, you’re able to see Roan as he moves towards the passenger seat, and when he reaches for the door handle, Seiku calls out to him. “Ai haihefa, osir beda goch yu op.”

My king, we should go with you. Roan shakes his head, turning his full attention to the man. “Non bilaik mou meija kom disha shimon, teik em klir. Emo sentaim.”

Nothing is more important than this cargo, keep it safe. Them too. He says the last words with his eyes locked on you and Clarke, and Seiku nods, accepting the order. And then Roan pulls open the door and slides into the seat beside Bellamy, yanking the door closed again just as the rover starts to drive off. You watch the vehicle until it disappears from your sight, hoping that the two men find a place to cross and they find it fast.

The two guards Kane sent with you spread out, weapons drawn, facing the trees and keeping an eye out for any sign of the Trikru warriors. Clarke walks over to the truck, keeping close to the cargo, while two of Roan’s guards linger nearby, whispering back and forth in Trigedasleng. You linger a few steps away from the truck, closer to the water, watching the river as it rushes nearby, and Roan’s third guard, Seiku, hovers nearby. You can feel his eyes on you, watching you, and feeling brave, you turn to face him. “Wanlida; what does it mean?”

A look flashes across his face, but it happens so fast you're unable to pinpoint what it means. He eyes you for a long time, and you start to turn away, thinking he’s not going to answer, when he replies, “Wanlida, the Bringer of Death.”

“That’s what people call me?”

“Yes. Wanheda commands death, giving the final blow. But you, you bring her to us, to the villages, to the mountain. You lead death straight to us, and she does the rest.”

Azrael and Azazel, twins of death and destruction. Cursed, bringing death wherever you follow. Because wherever you are, Clarke is never far behind. The nickname conflicts you, as you're sure it conflicts others. Some say Wanheda with awe in their voices, some fear, some anger. You imagine that the same conflict remains when they talk about you. The thought of being a killer, a monster, comes back to you again, reminding you of who you’ve become since landing on the ground. Wanlida, the bringer of death. Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sounds of conflict that reach your ears from nearby. Seiku’s too, because both of you turn to face the noise, just in time to watch the two Azgeda guards kill the two Skaikru guards.

Seiku grabs you without warning, and you think he is about to kill you and add your body to the growing pile. Instead, he drags you over to the truck, pushing you down by its side, beside Clarke, who is looking at both of you in alarm. “What’s going on?”

“Quiet. I’ll handle this. When I tell you to run, run.”

You and Clarke both nod, acknowledging his command, watching as he faces the two men and yells, “Chit yu dula? Haihefa biyo na shil shimon.”

What are you doing? The king said to protect the cargo. You can't see which of the men is responding, but he answers in English, making sure you all get the message. “We are. That's why we’re taking the cargo. If nothing is more important than this, then our people deserve it.”

“No, the king wants us to protect it, so he can save everyone.”

“The king has been blinded by his loyalties to Skaikru, despite the lies they tell. Now stand aside Seiku, and give us the girls.”

“No.” He pulls out his sword, and stands at the ready. “If you want them, you’ll have to kill me.”

You hear a short laugh, and then the sound of all three men coming together, clashing in a chaos of sound. As soon as Seiku starts to fight them, he turns and yells, “Run, now!”

You stand and start to take off, but Clarke lingers, eyeing the fuel. You turn and wave her towards you, “Clarke, come on!”

“But the fuel!”

“The fuel won't matter if we’re dead and unable to deliver it! Let's go!”

You grab her wrist and pull her after you, and she relents and allows you to lead her towards the river. Your plan is to cross the water and duck into the trees that start along the other side, keeping you and Clarke hidden until you have back up or a better plan. You’re closing the distance between you and the river’s edge when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. When you turn, you see one of the men running after you, trying to catch up. Seiku knocks the man he is still fighting away from him, and turns to pursue the man after you. Unfortunately, the man in pursuit reaches you first and tackles Clarke to the ground. You fall with her, your hands still connected, but you roll over and recover quickly when you realize that he’s pulling out a knife to stab Clarke.

You jump up and knock the weapon out of his hand, sending it flying, and he turns and hits you hard, knocking you away from the two of them. You scramble back to your feet and run at the man, tackling him to the ground, forcing him away from Clarke. As you do, Seiku reaches the three of you, and pulls the man off of you before he can harm you, knocking him out quickly. Seiku pulls you to your feet, and you nod in thanks, before he motions to Clarke. “You should check on her.”

Clarke is sprawled out on the ground, panting hard, trying to catch her breath after being choked. As you start to move towards her, she screams, “Look out!”

You turn, watching as the other guard looses an arrow, now heading straight towards you, and for some reason, you freeze in place. You hear Clarke scream your name in a panic, and your brain tries telling your feet to move, but instead, your feet stay resolutely in place, determined to let your body catch this arrow. Except, the arrow never reaches you. Seiku sees all of this happening, and he runs towards you, wrapping his arms around you just as the arrow lands in his back. He grunts, and starts to sway on his feet, and you stumble, trying to keep him upright. But amongst all the commotion, you don’t realize that the guard Seiku knocked out wasn't knocked out at all. He rises from his place, closes the space between you, and pulls Seiku’s head back, slitting his throat while Seiku’s arms are still around you, trying to protect you. You scream as blood spills from his neck, some of it hitting you, and he becomes dead weight on your arms, causing you to fall backwards and crash onto the sand below. He dies seconds later, the blood leaving his body at a rapid pace, and you feel emotion rise in your chest for this man that tried to save you and keep you safe, despite the curse around you. Bringer of Death. And here he is, now dead in your arms.

Your mourning for the loyal Azgeda guard is short lived though, because you hear Clarke let out a cry of pain, before she hits the ground beside you. You scream her name in horror and pull yourself from beneath Seiku, scrambling over to her and checking her pulse as fear practically chokes you. You let out a sound of relief when you feel the strong thud of her heart beneath your fingertips, and once you get the confirmation that she’s still alive, you look up and around for the two guards. They’re close, weapons trained on Clarke, and you have only a few seconds to decide your plan before you execute it.

You pull your knife from your holster and stand, holding the weapon to your throat. “That vehicle will not move unless one of us drives it. Clarke’s gonna be out for at least a few hours, thanks to you, and I suspect Roan and Bellamy will be back here before she even wakes. Any chance you have to get the fuel away from here, rides on me. But if you kill Clarke, I will slit my own throat, leaving both of you without a driver, and with an angry king to deal with.”

The two men share a look, both of them eyeing the knife gripped tight in your hand, sure that you'll do it if they threaten Clarke. Because you will. “Fine. Wanheda gets tied up, but she goes with us. First, we wrap up Seiku.”

You nod in agreement, following one of the men to the truck while the other watches over Clarke. You get one of the tarps out of the vehicle, Mount Weather’s finest, and hand it to the guard that lingers close to you. He motions for you to follow him back towards the body and you do, helping him wrap Seiku in the tarp while the other guard binds and gags your twin. The guard starts to drag him closer to the water, placing him just on the water’s edge, slightly hidden behind a large fallen tree. When he turns his back to head towards the truck, you stab your knife into the ground beside Seiku’s head, a message for Bellamy that you’re still alive, before whispering, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

Then you turn and head back towards the truck, sliding into the driver’s seat as one of the men climbs into the back with the fuel, and the other lifts Clarke into the passenger seat before squeezing himself into the middle. He pulls the cords from the radio, ceasing any potential communication with Bellamy, as you start the truck and pull away from the river, following the directions that he grunts out periodically. You drive for a little while, hoping that Bellamy and Roan will find you soon, since you haven’t gone too far from your original location. As you’re driving in an open field, surrounded by trees on either side, you suddenly catch a glimpse of something moving closer to you in the side view mirror. As you do a double take and look again, you realize that it’s the rover, and Bellamy has finally caught up. You hold back your sigh of relief and the smile that threatens to break free, not wanting to give him away. Instead, you slowly ease your foot off of the gas and let the vehicle start to slow down, so Bellamy can catch up. The guard in between you notices the slowing vehicle, and he looks out the back and sees the approaching rover, before yelling to the other guard, “Stop them!”

Then he spins around, pulls out a knife, and holds it to Clarke’s throat, slamming his foot down on top of yours and yelling, “Keep going!”

There’s nothing you can do but drive, and watch the rover get closer and closer to your vehicle. As Bellamy pulls up beside you, you glance at him, and his eyes are locked on you, looking worried. His eyes fall to the blood all over you, and you don't have enough time to tell him it’s not yours, because the guard at your side moves the knife from Clarke over to you, pressing it against our neck as he glares at your boyfriend. Bellamy yells, “Give me a clean shot!”

He doesn't wait for your answer, he just pushes the rover to its highest speed, quickly moving past your vehicle and pulling away from you. He puts as much space as he can in between you, before he abruptly yanks the wheel of the rover and stops the vehicle in your path, his driver’s side door now facing you. He flings the door open and you can see the flash of his gun in the light of the sun as he aims right towards you. The guard beside you grabs the wheel, trying to yank it from your hands and maneuver the vehicle out of Bellamy’s path, and you struggle against him, not giving up. But the space between your vehicle and Bellamy’s is rapidly closing, and you know that if you hit him, he’ll be dead on impact, before the crash knocks out the hydrazine and wipes out the rest of you.

You swing your elbow towards the man, knocking him away from you, giving Bellamy the space to shoot him without hitting you. A second later, the glass on the windshield breaks, and the guard lets out a cry of pain before slumping over. You look at his dead body in shock, before turning back to the front, watching as you’re about to slam into the rover. You slam both of your feet onto the brakes, hoping it’s enough, and Bellamy pulls himself back into the rover as you come sliding towards him. Somehow, the vehicle stops just short of crashing, saving all of you, and you lock eyes with Bellamy through the glass, both of you smiling at each other in shocked relief.

Despite a few hours of the journey still ahead of you, you all wait around until Clarke wakes up, and you know she’s okay. She's a little banged up, a little bruised, but she passes all of the concussion tests that you give her, and repeatedly insists that she’s fine. Bellamy anxiously scans your body, looking for injuries, despite your insistence that the blood on your clothing does not belong to you. You pass along to Roan that Seiku was loyal until the end, defending the cargo, and you and Clarke, just like he asked. Roan thanks you for the message, and you catch the first glimpse of emotion from the king when he turns away, looking sad, but he quickly tucks it away when he catches you watching.

Clarke insists on driving the fuel, and Bellamy insists that you ride in the rover, not wanting you out of his sight again, so Roan agrees to ride with Clarke, splitting the party evenly into two vehicles. When you slide inside the rover, Bellamy hands you your knife, now back to its rightful owner for the second time in less than 24 hours, and you give him a grateful smile. The rest of the ride passes quickly, which you’re thankful for, and a few hours before sunset, Bellamy guides the rover from the trees, out onto a beach. “We’re here.”

In the distance, you can the approaching boat, your ride to Becca’s Island, this terrible trip nearly finished. Bellamy parks the rover and you both hop out, stepping onto the shoreline and watching the boat as it slowly moves closer. Bellamy reaches out for your hand, and then takes a deep breath, seemingly coming to a decision. “I'm gonna take the Rover back to camp.”

You turn to look at him, at this deviation from the plan, and though you don't want to be separated from him, you know exactly why he wants to do this. “Octavia?”

“It's pathetic, right? She hates me but I keep coming back for more.”

You squeeze his hand, offering him comfort. “She's your sister, she's blood. She'll come around and see how special you are.”

He nods, and you turn and look at him, both of you locking eyes. “But that’s exactly why I have to stay with Clarke. I’m worried about the hit to her head that I was too slow to stop, and admittedly, I’m worried about my mom going to space in a century old rocket to create Nightblood. I need to be there for them. Both of them.”

“I understand.”

You start to say your goodbyes to each other, but you’re interrupted by Clarke yelling, “We've got a problem.”

You both run over to the truck, meeting Clarke and Roan there, and the king is in the back, beside one of the barrels of hydrazine. He slides it to the end, turning it around, revealing an arrow sticking out of the bottom. “Trikru arrow.”

Roan kicks the barrel off the back, and you all watch in horror as it tumbles to the ground, bouncing twice, knocking the lid off. Not a single drop of liquid spills, indicating that it has long been drained, and there's nothing any of you can do except stare at the empty barrel in disappointment.

Clarke is the first to break the silence, muttering, “I’ll go radio the others.”

You, Roan, and Bellamy work in silence to unload the barrels, checking the rest of them one by one, making sure they’re intact. Jackson and Miller arrive on the boat a few minutes later, and after you relay the news to them, you load the rest of the hydrazine on board, before Clarke and Roan board the ship behind them. You and Bellamy linger on shore, not wanting to say goodbye, yet knowing that you have to. He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, long and slow, dripping with love and adoration, saying everything you need to say.

“I love you, blainen natshana.”

“I love you more than the stars.” He gives you a sad look, and you lift a hand to his cheek, resting it there. “I’ll see you in a few days. We’ll figure this out, get Nightblood made, and we’ll be home before you know it.”

He nods, tears shining in his eyes, bringing tears to your own eyes. He repeats his words from the night before back to you, bringing a watery smile to your face. “In this lifetime, and in the next.”

You whisper back, “Forever.”

He kisses you one last time, and hugs you tight, before pulling away and helping you onto the boat. You stand at the back, eyes locked on him the entire time, watching him as the boat pulls away. Your eyes never leave each other, both of you waving and watching, only stopping long after he’s disappeared from your sight. You remain at the back of the boat, watching the sun sink lower in the sky, until it kisses the horizon, the sky erupting in a beautiful painting of colors. And as the moon eventually takes her place, rising into the sky as a guiding light, you watch it, drawing comfort from the crescent shaped beauty. And somewhere, sitting along a sandy shoreline, Bellamy Blake sits, watching the same moon in the sky as the love of his life.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 4x06

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jungcity · 5 years ago

Text

love, eternal. | vi

genre: reincarnation!au, fallen angel!au

[supernatural!au-ish, angst, use of blunts and intoxicants, extra asshole jaehyun, smut, vulgar words]

pairing: jung jaehyun x reader

words: 10k

note: hello, loves!! here is chapter vi, sorry if it took a while for me to finish this one. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

ps.: special thanks to @cherr-e for helping me edit the chapters of this series! i'd always remember your kindness!

part v

“Thou shall bear a love for one soul in a thousand faces,

And suffer as the face cease to exist but the soul, perpetually.”

Jaehyun was a soldier. But instead of a village, it was your heart that he’s pillaged after the war— leaving it empty and burning.

Catastrophic, he was. You should have seen it in his eyes, you should have heard it in his lips. But like the good, naïve girl that you are, you forgot about the devil once he’s touched your lips with his.

The shattering of your heart is as loud as the collision of coffee mugs against the floor, the only difference is that the mugs are heard but your heart isn’t. How cruel it is, to see something like this early in the morning. How tragic it is, to be hurt like this by someone who is as close as a stranger to you— or perhaps you to him.

You wanted to pick out all the littered shards of the mugs, close your hands around them just to feel their sharp edges on your palms and make it bleed. By doing so, Jaehyun would not bother to question if you ever cry. But you can’t move, your body feel listless.

“S-sorry. I’ll go get the cleaner.”

It’s appalling how have you mustered the strength to make your feet move even if your bones feels heavy. With trembling fingers, you dialed for the maintenance number, inhaling a deep breath before talking. You know you need to go to the comfort room, and perhaps in its white tiles and bright lights, you’ll find the silence your mind demands.

“Do not cry, do not fucking cry. For fuck’s sake, it’s eight-thirty a.m. in the morning, Y/N.” You repeated the sentences until you’re inside the comfort room. For the first time since you started working for Jaehyun, you thanked the emptiness of the floor. You do not have to worry yourself about someone walking in on you trying to collect your last bit of sanity.

The mirror was bright, reflecting even all the pores in your face. You look fucking miserable; eyes red from the tears that’s begging to come out, lips trembling from forcing yourself not to cry. But you will never cry. You are stronger than what you saw in Jaehyun’s office. I will not cry. It was hard to breathe, yes, but you inhaled air despite the burning pain in your throat and in your chest from trying your hardest not to fall apart.

What was that? You asked the reflection on the mirror. Were you that naïve? To even let your mind think that what transpired between you and Jaehyun could mean something? Could mean anything at all? Your trip to Paris felt like an ages ago. You should have known better then. You should have never held his hands, or you should have not let him tuck the strands of your hair behind your ear. You should have just looked away when he stared at you as if you were the moon on a clear night sky. Instead, you dared yourself stare at the halo in his eyes. Now, you’re burning because of your own folly.

“This is nothing. Act like you didn’t see anything,” For the last time, you take a deep breath. “Let’s get to work,” Then you walk back to your own table.

The cleaner inclined his head at you as a sign of greeting, he carries a mop and a pail of water. By the bluriness of the water you could tell that he’s done cleaning up the floors.

Now, what? Do I go inside and ask them if they need anything? I should make them coffee again, right?

You pushed your chair away, sighing as you’ve decided to continue your work. If there’s one thing Jung’s Fiscals have taught you, that is professionalism. Feelings are not needed in the work ethic. Sure, you could try to drown yourself from alcohol tonight but you need to keep your sanity intact today. You just need to get through this day.

It feels like the world is on your shoulders as you walk towards the door, your arms holding the tray again. This time, you’re certain it would not fall. When you successfully opened the door, you kept your head staring straight at the view outside. You whispered a silent thanks when you saw them promped on the sofa, not kissing or touching each other, with the girl giggling to whatever Jaehyun said on her ear.

“Good morning, Sir.” Just smile, Y/N. Smile like it’s your birthday. Your lips stretched into the widest smile it could make, hoping it’s enough to convince Jaehyun you weren’t affected by the little staunt he pulled on you. “Good morning, Miss…?” You turned your head to the woman, maintaing your smile as you did so.

She returned the smile, her pearlescent teeth flashing. “Call me Miss Mina.” Then she stretched out her hand to you, you didn’t have any choice but to shake hands with her. “Nice to meet you,” said she.

It’s your second time catching them on the ‘act’ (well you didn’t the first time, you just watched her gave Jaehyun a handjob) but there isn’t an ounce of embarrassment in her face as she smiles at you now. It also doesn’t seem like she remembers you from Jaehyun’s penthouse.

“Nice to meet you too, Miss Mina. I’m Y/N. Mr. Jung’s secretary.” The reality tastes bitter in your mouth. Perhaps it is why you’re hurting right now. You forgot your position in Jaehyun’s life, you forgot that you’re just his secretary and nothing more.

“How about dinner tonight, huh?” Jaehyun asked her by snaking his arms on her waist, trying to bite her ear. She giggles and tries to push him away, but she nodded her head nonetheless, telling your boss that it’s a good idea.

You felt the familiar tightening on your throat, causing you to swallow with the hopes to wash it away. Staring at them feels like staring at the sun, it hurt your eyes.

“Is there anything I could do for you, Sir? Miss?”

Jaehyun just brushed you off like a fly, “Go.” He said. He didn’t even look at you.

You settled the mugs on the small table, not daring to peek on what the both of them are currently doing. After what seems like forever, you finally departed the office, leaving them to continue their kissing.

Tons of e-mails were sent to Jaehyun’s inbox when you opened the mail. They were all about business; some from Johnny, from Taeyong, and from Hendery. You knew Hendery from Johnny’s party. His features are sharp, with a good sense of humor. It’s a shame that you didn’t had the chance to converse with him.

As you click everywhere in the mail, your phone vibrated on the table. A message from Yuta.

[Are you busy?]

[No, why?]

[Can I talk to you later?]

You shifted on your seat, pondering about his offer. It’s been weeks since you last talked to him and you know it’s time to sit and have a conversation with Yuta.

[Sure. Text me the loc.]

Jaehyun’s office door swung open the same moment you kept your phone. He had his arm on Mina’s shoulder.

“Cancel all my schedules for today,” He said.

You glanced at the alarm clock. It’s only ten-thirty in the morning and he’s got a meeting at twelve noon.

“Sir, what would I tell Mr. Kang about your meeting?”

Oh, for God’s sake Mina, couldn’t you keep your hands to yourself? Mina’s touching Jaehyun’s stomach, probably feeling the hard muscles on his abdomen. You blushed as you remembered the image of his body on the night you shared in London.

“Re-schedule it. Tell him I’ve got something more important to do.” At his last sentence, he looked at Mina— ready to devour the girl any time soon. The woman giggled underneath his stare. You wanted to retch.

“Alright, Sir. Take—”

But he’s already walking away. Not bothering to hear you.

—

You agreed to meet Yuta at your go-to fast-food chain when you were still in college, fifteen-minutes away from Jung’s Fiscals. College students could be seen eating as well as young couples. The restaurant gives the vibe of that of a resto style, that’s why it’s popular among teenagers. The couches were the only thing that’s changed after all these years, but the nostalgic feeling still lingers in the air once you stepped inside.

Yuta stood up from his seat the moment you locked eyes with him, waving his hand to you wearing his bright smile. You couldn’t stop but remember the times the both of you would have your dates in the fast-food chain with your silly young heart bouncing every time you see him waiting for you. How long has it been and how happy you were back then.

“Hi,” Yuta greeted.

You sat across from him, “Hi.”

There’s already food on the table when you arrived. It is the same food you always get every time you eat with him.

“The food’s still warm, I hope you don’t mind me ordering for you.” He softly tells you while pushing the food your way. You pick on it while waiting for him to say something.

“I know I was an asshole towards your boyfriend—” Oh, yes. Yuta thinks Jaehyun is your boyfriend. It made you feel even worse. “and I know I made a mistake. I just want to say sorry to you. And to him. But mostly to you, I know you were scared and shocked.” He stated. “I just want us… to reconcile. Be friends again. I know your heart belongs to someone else now, and it’s not my goal to interfere with your happiness, Y/N.” He sighed. “I miss you, as my friend.”

You bit your lips. Here you are again, being emotional as a baby. But you have to admit that you missed having Yuta as a friend. He was someone who you could lean on when life got tough on you back then. He was your wall, your strength, your one reason to keep moving. You knew all he wanted was to make you happy.

“I miss you, too.” You smiled despite of your trembling lips. He gave you a sweet smile while he held your hand on the table.

“Oh, before I forgot, here.” He brought a pamphlet on the table, offering it to you.

“I know it’s been ages since the three of us had gone to an adventure. I’ve already invited Soojin, she told me she’d say yes if you do.”

You stared at the pamphlet, reading the text printed out on the paper. Mountain hiking. Nature. Forest. Perfect for your current emotional state. It is exactly what you need, so without much of a thinking, you said yes.

—

“You know this night would get us looking wasted tomorrow, right?” Soojin asked as you picked up yet another bottle of soju.

You read the label on the drinks before nodding at her, “Relax. Trust me, it’s what we need.”

It’s what you need; ten shots of soju to drown your thoughts about Jaehyun. And about Mina. About everything else.

“What’s this? You’ll try to get yourself in a coma?” She shot up her brow, looking at the soju bottles on the push cart and to you.

“That’s why I invited you so we could get ourselves in a coma together,” You teased her.

Tonight, you invited Soojin to have a slumber party in your apartment with Yuqi. The emotions you’ve been bottling up since seeing Jaehyun with Mina needed to be released or else you’d die of suffocation. By your own experience of heartbreak and loss could you tell that soju is the bestest way to relieve yourself of the stress. Jaehyun does not have the rights to infiltrate your mind any longer and what’s best way to kick him out of your system than gulping down bottles of liquor, right?

It’s not normal of you to drink liquor on a Monday night, and if Soojin had noticed anything wrong about you, she didn’t ask. You’re not ready to face the problem yourself, either. Or maybe you will never face it.

“Anyways, Yuta told me you’ve accepted his apologies and that you’re willing to join us in the hiking,” Soojin starts as you walk outside the convenience store carrying snacks and soju bottles.

“Yes. I did. It’s time to revive the friendship and I think there’s nothing wrong in trying,” You shrugged.

Soojin nodded, “Yep. But…” She hesitates, you know exactly why. “…how about Jaehyun, though? Does Yuta know the truth?”

He doesn’t. Because you didn’t want to give him false hopes that both of you could work it out and be together again. “No. I didn’t tell him.” You frowned. “The last time we ate together, he told me he still loves me, that I should give him a chance.”

Soojin gaped at you, “You said no, of course. You wouldn’t introduce Jaehyun as your boyfriend if you’d agreed to give him a chance,”

You nodded at her. Soojin rolled her lips between her teeth, hesitant to ask you yet another question. “Do you fancy someone else now, though?” She finally asked.

Was it too obvious? The thought of Soojin noticing your affection towards Jaehyun gave you the creeps. It’s not like it isn’t true, but you aren’t ready to voice your feelings to someone else yet.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. I know you like… Jaehyun. I mean, Y/N, do you know that you’re the first secretary he took with him overseas?”

You stop in your tracks, completely focusing your attention to your best friend. She did the same.

“Yes. That’s right. Because his former secretaries couldn’t even make it to one month, except Maggie. Yet he didn’t even take Maggie to attend business with him overseas. I know it’s not that special… but it’s unusual of him to do that.” There’s a spark of hope that kindled in your chest by realizing what Soojin is trying to tell you. But you quickly smashed it, there’s no way Jung Jaehyun could have an affection towards you after the incident in his office.

“Are you saying he likes me?”

“Maybe…? I couldn’t tell yet, but there’s a possi—”

You cut her off, “Do you know that I saw him making out with another girl inside his office?”

Soojin gasped, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” You’re aware of the fact that it’s not right to tell what you’ve seen earlier to another people. It’s not right to gossip about the business of your boss. But Soojin is your best friend, you need to convince her that Jaehyun has no fondness towards you or else you’d believe her and that would definitely lead to your own destruction. You have to nail in your mind that Jaehyun would never like you. In that way, you’re saving yourself from the worse heartbreaks.

You walked back to your apartment talking about anything except for Jaehyun. It has cleared your mind somehow. As you talk with Soojin, you’ve prevented your mind to think about Jaehyun and Mina, or what could they possibly be doing in the moment. At least, you felt far away from them.

“Yuqi, you’re not allowed to drink.” You told your sister, tossing a juicebox her way.

“You’re such a kill joy,” she pouted. It’s her midterms week and you’re only allowing her to stay late to review her notes, not to drink with you. Soojin patted her back, frowning with her.

The night went on with the three of you laughing at some silly jokes you shared. Both Soojin and you reminiscing your embarrassing moments back in college. How Soojin literally drew a vagina, making your professor blushed in his seat while grading the canvas.

“I am fucking sleepy,” Soojin’s words were sluggish, proof that the soju has kicked in her system already.

You feel it too. You feel the warmth in your body, mind spinning from too much shots. Yuqi bid her goodnight five-minutes ago, leaving both you and Soojin on your own.

You were absolutely wrong to think that the liquor would make you forget Jaehyun. If anything, it just made your situation worse. Jaehyun’s memories flows within you like how the liquor flows in your veins— searing every part of your body.

How had everything came back to square one, you have no idea. All that you think of right now is the shame of hoping for something else after the night you spent with Jaehyun. Was it really a wishful thinking? But he made you feel special in those times, he made you feel like you were something out of the ordinary. Perhaps he does it to every girl he’s met and mingled with. Perhaps you weren’t really special. Perhaps he toyed with you and that was it— no explanations, no apologies, just utter heartbreak.

Why does this heartbreak feel different? Why do you feel like you are being hollowed inside out? Why do you feel like there’s a force trying to squeeze the air out of your lungs and the blood in your veins? God, why does it hurt so much?

“God, I love him.” You blurted out, your palms digging in your eyes while you let the tears flow down freely.

“What the heck are you talking about?” Soojin squinted her eyes at you.

“I love him! I love Jaehyun!” You cried. Soojin shifted beside you, bringing her arms around your body as you cried your heart out. “Why does it hurt so much? Why?” She’s lulling you now, her former drunk self thrown out because of your current situation. The pain, you couldn’t bear it. It feels like a sledgehammer to your heart.

“Sssh, Y/N. It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” she shushed.

“It will never be okay.” You whispered. The pain feels almost atavistic. It’s like a part of you is missing and never in a hundred years could it be found.

—

In this dream, you couldn’t feel anything; not the headache from being drunk nor the heartbreak from Jaehyun. Everything about this dream is like a fairytale, you know exactly where you are.

There are no crying voices, there are no prayers of sorrows, there are no kneeling families begging for Aurora to wake up. Only silence and the chirping of birds.

“You’re awake,” said the voice from the edge of the bed. She’s looking at you, with her body twisted sideways. Aurora.

You sat up on the lush bed, squinting and protecting your eyes from the burst of sunlight penetrating the room. “Why am I here again? Aren’t you dead?” Right now, you need answers— from all these visions, from all these dreams. These aren’t just simple images created by your mind; they are life.

“If I am dead, you are dead too. But we live, for eternity,” she says, facing you. She is ethereal. Soft. Pristine. Her every move is like the quiet waves of the ocean. It is unreal.

“What do you mean, eternity? I— I don’t understand. Why am I here? Why do I always see you in my dreams? Who really are you?” You bombarded her with questions, hoping that she’d quench every single one of it with answers.

“I am Aurora. You are here because it is your destiny. Soon, you will understand, once you are ready for it.” Her voice was like velvet in your ears, so smooth.

“Destiny? What destiny?”

You trace her lips with your eyes as she speaks the words, “Thou shall bear a love for one soul in a thousand faces— and suffer as the face cease to exist but the soul, perpetually.” She paused, then looked at you with smile on her lips. “That is your destiny.”

“What? Who told you that?” Because it is clear that the words are not from her, for it seems like it’s from someone— and she’s only memorizing the words to you.

“His name is Yuno.”

Yuno? Who is Yuno?

You gasped as you wake, your heart and head pounding. The clock tells you it’s five a.m. in the morning. Convenient. Now is the time to get up and face the world again— face Jaehyun again. You wonder what surprises he’s laid for you today.

It’s still dawn yet your body feels heavy already, preventing you to be productive and dynamic. The dream you had about Aurora sinking in your bones, making everything more difficult for you.

Yuno. The name sounds strange to you. You’ve never rolled its syllables on your tongue before. Destiny. You groaned at the thought. Here you are, thinking that you’re just a simple girl in a big city, yet your dreams tells you you’re more than what you believed you are. Is it true? What path does all these dreams lead to? Would it be worth it to jump and find answers?

Your intuition tells you there’s something out there for you— but you weren’t expecting something as complicated as this one. One step at a time, you told yourself. If you’re determined to find answers, you need to know who Aurora is. You need to find out if she still lives or she’s already dead like in your dreams. You need to have a point— point where to start.

“Thou shall bear a love for one soul… thousand faces… suffer… as the face cease to exist… but the soul… perpetually,” You chanted the words as you write them in your sketchbook. Understanding what it means would be a big step in your sleuthing.

Aurora said that the words are your destiny, and they were from a person named Yuno. But who is Yuno?

—

“Soojin, can I ask you something?”

The both of you are walking to the bus stop, looking bedraggled from the risky night you spent drinking and crying in each other’s shoulders. Soojin hugged you until you stopped crying yesterday night. She guided you on your bed, tucking you in before sleeping in Yuqi’s bedroom. Unfortunately for the both of you, your single bed wouldn’t be able to hold two bodies, that’s why she slept in Yuqi’s. But before she departed your room, she gave you a glass of water and kissed your forehead.

“Sure, what is it?” She said that while gliding her lipstick on her lips.

You’re certain that Aurora played a big part in Jaehyun’s life. You wouldn’t see him crying in the corner of Aurora’s bedroom as she laid dying on her bed if she was a nobody. Jaehyun crying, you would’ve considered it as a joke if it wasn’t for the fact that you saw it with your own eyes, despite that it happened in your dreams. Are they just your dreams, though? That, you will find out. You know they’re related with each other— no matter what his friends told you.

“In your two years of working in Jung’s Fiscals, have you ever seen Jaehyun with a girl?” You asked, “black hair, that falls up to her waist—” You motioned your hands to your waist and pointed your finger at your eyes, “and blue eyes! She’s pretty. Like a living princess.” Your eyes are widening now, eager for Soojin’s answer. But she only looked at you as if it’s her first time knowing you.

“There’s one girl who always visits him… and I know you’re familiar with her. She’s Chaelin. Apart from her and the other girl from yesterday… I don’t think I’ve seen him with the girl with blue eyes and black hair.” Soojin stated while she looked at you with knitted brows. “That’s an unusual appearance, you know. I’ve never met someone with the same facial features.” She added while fixing her hair.

“I told you she’s beautiful.” You told her. But you couldn’t stop the disappointment as it sips on your energy. On a spur of moment, Aurora feels so far away. The people who could help you refuses to say anything about her. Chaelin, Johnny, Taeyong. But why?

“Why are you asking, though? I know you like him, but you need not to murder his exes you know.”

“Shut up, bitch. I was just curious. To be honest, I always dream about the girl. Her name’s Aurora. And in my dreams, I always see Jaehyun. That’s a bit mysterious, don’t you think?” You tighten your hold around the strap of your bag, anticipating for your best friend’s answer. You know Soojin as a practical woman, but she might know something useful about your dreams. There’s no harm in trying. “I’d tell you that the setting of my dreams looked like it was made out of the eighteenth to nineteenth century.”

Soojin stopped fixing her bangs as she whirled towards you, “It feels old? That’s what you’re telling me?” You nodded as she pursed her lips like she’s remembering something. “My grandmother told me that sometimes, our dreams are doors to the life we had before. You’ve stated that you dream about odd and old things. There are a lot of reincarnation stories in the internet y’know. More of the times, it’s their dreams that tells them what they were before their life today. It’s honestly cool to have those kinds of visions…” Her voice was blurred out by your thoughts.

Past life. Reincarnation. Could it be possible that your dreams are doors to your life before? How? Now everything seems too convoluted for your brain to process. The voice of Aurora repeating in your mind: “That is your destiny.” What destiny, exactly?

—

“Sir, these are the files Laura sent me. She told me you need to sign these papers as soon as possible.” You laid the stack of piles on Jaehyun’s table while he currently scans a document and fiddling the pen with his fingers.

There wasn’t a making-out session to greet you good morning today, but Jaehyun still arrived earlier than you. He was rummaging through his files when you came into his office with a cup of coffee. Some were on the floors, some were on his desk. You could tell he was frustrated by how his brows were narrowed as if they’d become as one anytime soon.

“As soon as possible? Who the fuck tells the CEO that bullshit?” He flipped the pages of the document with enough force that the stapled edges of it were torn apart.

“Apparently, Laura did, Sir. You indeed need to sign the papers as soon as possible since you postponed your meeting with Mr. Kang yesterday,” You added, looking straight at the skyscrapers outside. You couldn’t afford to look at him and not break down here and there.

“Look at me when you talk to me.” It wasn’t a plea, it was a command. You have no other choice but to look at him— into those cruel dark brown eyes you want to forget. The moment you did, your lips slightly trembled.

He stood up from his seat, eyeing you as he did so. He leaned his weight on the edge of the table, arms crossed as he looked at you. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

Ignoring? What the hell is he talking about?

“Sir?” You asked him, incredulous by his audacity.

“You’ve been ignoring me. Why? Were you jealous about the incident you saw yesterday?”

You gulped down your irritation. Of course you were jealous. But you refuse to give him that satisfaction. “Why should I?” You cleared your throat then added, “Sir.” Like a soldier under the scrutinizing of the captain.

“Because you like me.” He stated, as a-matter-of-fact. Where is this conversation going? You couldn’t calculate his reason to state that sentence, but it made you shift on your position despite that. It was another thing to hear it from his lips.

“I don’t see the reason why it matters, Sir.”

“It matters to me, Y/N.”

“If you don’t have anything more to say, I’d better get working. Call me if you need anything, Sir. I’ll be right outside your office.” You flashed him your sweetest smile, ready to turn your back on him. But he swiftly caught your wrist. His look was almost apologetic. You didn’t even know why do you wait for him to say something. Minutes had gone by with the both of you just staring at each other, sharing a silence that shattered your already broken heart, levigating every bit of what’s left of it.

“Go.”

One word. You have no idea how could that one word hurt you even more. Perhaps because that one word held all possibilities that he could’ve taken but chose not to. The thought of hurting more than you already are baffles you. Just how much effect does Jaehyun holds against you? It’s frightening to think of it. His grip on you slackened. You walked away from him, but before you could open the door, you swear you heard him say the word ‘sorry’.

—

He’s certain you didn’t hear the words, he made sure of that. But as you tensed before opening the door made him realized that he was wrong. You heard it. He never felt so stupid as he did now.

Sorry. Sorry for what? For treating you like you didn’t matter to him? Sorry because you walked in on him devouring the lips of this unknown girl who seems too eager to have a piece of him? You could hide the pain in your eyes to the world, but not to him. He heard you entering his office and instead of pushing the girl away and give himself up to you, he chose to grab her waist and her breast like his life depended on it— he kissed her with enough hunger to make you recoil. And you did— with trembling hands that led to the coffee mugs crashing on the floor.

It wasn’t a simple shock of what you saw, it was also the shattering of your hopes, he saw it in your eyes. He wanted to run, hug you, beg for your forgiveness, but his feet wouldn’t move. It was locked up on the floors like how his promise to himself was locked up inside him; that is to keep you safe.

That night, he laid on his bed awake, no alcohols running in his blood. His thoughts were clear and they were all about you. How your lips trembled as you asked them if they still needed anything from you. You might have not realized that he saw the unshed tears behind your smiles, but he did. He felt sick to his stomach remembering how painful your smile was. He felt sick to know that it’s all because of him.

The pain was almost unbearable, if not for the thought that he’s hurting you for your own good. He closed his eyes then, remembering the words of the Almighty before He casted him out of heaven to fall into the abyss.

“Thou shall bear a love for one soul in a thousand faces— and suffer as the face cease to exist but the soul, perpetually.”

Do you belong to the faces? He didn’t want to know. He’d lose his mind if you were. The thought of you wasting away like Aurora made every fiber of his being to convulse in utter fury. It couldn’t be. You couldn’t be. Yet what power does he have against the will of his Creator? None. So he closed his eyes, letting the sleep to pull him under, forgetting all the troubles of his reality behind.

“Aurora?”

This is a dream. He knew it the moment he opened his eyes to a lake, surrounded by wildflowers and butterflies. At the edge of the lake’s mouth stood a woman he knows too well like the back of his hand.

“My love,” she called out, voice like the lullabies of the angel in the heavens. Black hair, blue eyes— it was indeed his lover. Jaehyun could feel his heart beating loudly against his chest with every step he takes towards the girl he loved for more than a century now.

“You’re alive,” He knows she’s not. But she feels so real that he’s afraid his realities might be slipping away from him. The woman smiled. She never changed one bit.

“I am always alive, my love.” She stretched out her hand to him, he took it gladly, placing it on his chest where his heart is located.

“Here. You are always alive.” He smiled. How unusual it was to feel his lips stretch into a smile, his skin feels tight and the feeling is unfamiliar.

“I know it belongs to someone else now, Yuno.”

How long has it been? How long has it been since he was called by that name? The name he cherished because it was his name when she was still alive. The name he buried together with her when she died.

“My heart belongs to you, always.” He kissed her palm, pressing it lightly to his cheek after.

“It was mine. Now it’s hers.” She softly voiced.

“What do you mean, chérie?” His heart has been pounding in his chest now, mind blank from what Aurora tries to tell him.

“Have courage, my love. It is our destiny.”

Jaehyun woke, gasping. He stood up and ran his hand through his hair, the sweat on his forehead sopping its strands. What the fuck was that?

It’s been a while since he dreamt of Aurora. It wasn’t always pleasant. He always dreamt about her wasting body, the jutting bones and her frailty always occupies his vision. Her kneeling and sobbing parents around her deathbed, her little sister praying to God to wake her up. All the prayers and the cries that resulted to nothing; it all comes crashing down on him whenever he closes his eyes.

It is our destiny. She said the words again. He could hear her over and over in his mind, trying to convince him that no one could stand against the will of God. But he refused to believe it. He was never going to believe it. It was one thing to punish him, it is another thing to punish someone because of him. Yet Aurora unfailingly saw the punishment as her blessing. She was always a pious lady— never missing any mass, befriended all the priests, always praying whenever she went. She never once took it as a burden. If that is the will of God, who am I to refuse Him? She always told him. Not a trace of disbelief or horror in her pretty face. She embraced her destiny like how mothers embraces their newborn child.

Are you not happy that my soul would never die? She asked him once. How could he rejoice from that fact? How could he rejoice when the love of his life was destined to die, but her soul? How could he touch an intangible thing such as a person’s soul? How could he hold it? He wasn’t happy. It was Aurora that he wanted and he never wanted so much in his life before her.

What is a hundred years compared to your lifetime? He remembered her asking. It was too much. How could he wait for someone he could fall in love with after hundreds of years if it’s not going to be Aurora at the end of the century? Why does he need to fall in love over and over again just to be left broken in the end? It is your punishment, traitor. The voice inside him whispered with enough obloquy to make him wince.

It was foolish of him to expect that his retribution won’t kick him in his guts again. He was so careful— so careful not to fall in love a second time. He guarded his heart with glacial ice that no one could melt. He guarded it with the love he shared with Aurora. Yet you came and went crashing down on the ice. You came, slowly infiltrating the love he kept for Aurora only. His heart is as jagged as his soul, it is a rotten thing but it’s all that he could offer you. He’d willingly give it you if it weren’t for the odds.

—

The mountain of Sagada nestled in a valley at the upper end of the Malitep tributary some half kilometers in the Central Cordillera Mountains. The guides who are usually called as Kankanaey welcomed the three of you with warm smiles.

It’s more than half an hour since you arrived and registered at the Municipal Tourism office located in the municipal hall. Various groups of friends and families registered alongside the three of you. The Kankanaey introduced Sagada as a well-known place for recreational activities such as hiking, camping, exploring caves and waterfalls and joining tribal gatherings.

You personally feel elevated to travel the famous waterfalls and caves as well as the hanging coffins as introduced by the Kankanaey. It’s been awhile since you’ve done something such as hiking a mountain. You almost felt thankful for Yuta for inviting you in. Soojin couldn’t keep her DSLR since you started the hiking— you could only assume that she has so much images to keep as memories now.

Sagada Mountains did not disappoint. Your first destination was the Bokong waterfalls near the town center. The falling waters from it gave you the refreshment your mind deserves. Jaehyun still lingers in your mind; you wonder about his well-being, about what he’s doing, eating, whether he’s stressed-out and needed a hand. But you try not to dwell in those thoughts as you stepped in the beauty of the mountain. This adventure would be in vain if you fail to clear your mind from all the heartbreaks.

Yuta decided that you should stay for two nights and three days to appreciate the view of Sagada in the gloaming. Many mountain people have told you that the skies at the peak of the mountain stretched out like clouds of cotton as the sun rise. The view would be a spectacle to behold, it would be a shame not to witness it.

“… later,”

You heard Yuta whispered to nowhere as you trailed the rocky path of the mountain, tha hanging coffins visible in the distance. Who was he talking to? It was a whisper but you’re certain you heard him talked. Soojin and the others trails ahead of you, hands in her camera.

“You alright?” You asked Yuta with concern. The Kankanaey didn’t say anything about ghosts nor elementals roaming the mountains— did Yuta see one?

He was quick to blink and shook his head at you, like a dog shaking off the waters in its fur. “Yes, let’s go?” He laid out his palms to welcome you to the path. You shrugged your thoughts away and hurried to match Soojin’s strides.

Before going into your own guest house near the mountains, there was a tribal gathering you attended first. It was relaxing to familiarized yourself to different cultures other than yours, it reminded you of the life outside of work and responsibilities. You wished that you brought Yuqi with you, but her inability to do challenging abilities prohibited her in joining the mountain hike. Nevertheless, she promised to take her meds and she also invited her classmate to accompany her in the days that you’ll be gone.

“I need a shower,” Soojin declared as she laid down her duffel bag on the mattress. The both of you shares a room, leaving Yuta alone in the other bedroom across from yours.

You decided to cook something for dinner while Soojin cleans herself. Yuta offered to help you. The air between the two of you wasn’t as awkward as it was when he came back from Japan, it was bearable. He does not ask you about Jaehyun, which makes you wonder whether he’s already noticed the truth and decided to shrug it off. Or he observed your aloofness from the topic of relationship that’s why he doesn’t bug you about your ‘boyfriend’. Either way, you were thankful to not hear Jaehyun’s name being uttered by anyone. It’s nice to have this little vacation to yourself and with your friends.

After the dinner, you cleaned yourself and joined Yuta and Soojin as they drink in the veranda.

“The air’s so refreshing,” Soojin muttered as she took a swig on her own bottle. The air was cold, but it’s not unpleasant to the skin. It was a comfortable type of cold, like the splash of water on your face in the mornings of summer.

You sat beside Soojin, opening a bottle of your own. “I wish we could come back here,” You said, looking out at the view. Tiny lights were emitted by houses, like fireflies underneath the darkness of the forest.

“I personally liked the hanging coffins,” Yuta blurted out. The hanging coffins weren’t something you’ve seen before. They were literally coffins hanging on the side of the cliff. The Kankanaey told you it is the traditional way to bury the dead during the olden days. Unfortunately today, it is not used anymore. And based from the natives, a certain requirement should be met before someone would get buried that way; he or she must have been married and had children.

“Those gave me the creeps, but it was such an incredibly unusual way of burial.” Soojin commented.

“We should really go back here,” Yuta chuckled. “And hopefully we could bring Jaehyun with us.” He looked at you, his face unreadable by the dimness of the light.

Jaehyun. Just when you thought that nobody would chant his name today. You felt Soojin’s eyes as she waited for you to say something.

“I don’t think so,” You fake laughed. “He’s such a workaholic. I bet he does not fancy adventures as this one,” You added. Yuta only nodded at you, his mouth twisting in disappointment.

“That’s a shame. He must be boring then,”

Is he taunting me? You collected your thoughts by Yuta’s comment. Your mouth opened up to what? Defend Jaehyun? Thankfully, Soojin washed the tensed atmosphere away by clearing her throat.

“I’d like to swim in their famous waterfalls, tomorrow. Could we do that?” Soojin looked at the both of you with hopeful eyes.

“If we’re still here tomorrow,” Yuta commented as he mindlessly took a swig of his bottle.

“I thought we’d stay for three days?” You asked Yuta. He stared at you as if he was caught off guard by your question, then he chuckled; a trace of nervousness could be heard from his voice.

“Yeah… I forgot.”

Forgot? Staying for three days in Sagada was the only thing Yuta talked about on the way here. According to him, you’d enjoy the wonders of the mountains if your stay would be a bit longer than the usual. It’s unexpected of him to forget that when he was the one who literally planned all of this.

“Alright! I must ready my swimsuit then. Good night!” Soojin laid her empty bottle on the table with a thud, hurrying down the hallways to your shared bedroom.

“I think we should—” You stood up, but Yuta caught your wrist, demanding you to sit down. “What is it?” You asked.

“Can we go for a walk?” He sounds pleading, that you’d feel bad to say no. So you nodded your head and gave him an encouraging smile. Maybe he wasn’t yet sleepy and he needed to unwind.

You walked the rocky trail from your guest house to nowhere, the light of the moon your only guide in the darkness. Crickets could be heard, hiding in the trees. The surroundings was eerily silent saved for the ophidian whispers of the winds slapping against the trees.

“Do you know what a fairy circle is?” Yuta asked all of a sudden. You kicked a small stone in your way before looking at him.

“I don’t. Why?” In the darkness, you’re certain you heard his little huff of relief by your answer. “Is it something ghostly? You inquired, a small chuckle reverberating in your throat.

“No. But they say it could bring you luck once you stepped on it,”

“Really? What kinds of luck?”

“Good fortune, as I’ve read.” He shrugged then added, “I saw one earlier on the way here and I thought I should show you,”

You gasped, excited. “Really? Where?” By your question, Yuta halted on his tracks, his body now pointing towards something in the darkness.

“Here.” He trudged the distance, with you trailing behind him. The light of the moon illuminated something white in the distance. “The fairy circle,” He announced as he looked at the wild mushrooms in a form of a circle on the earth. The inside of the circle wasn’t big, just enough for your two feet to step on.

“Oh! This is so cool. We should try it!” You enthusiastically tug on Yuta’s shirt like a child begging for ice cream. Yuta doesn’t share the same excitement, he was looking at you bewildered.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, “Yep. I mean, it looks harmless. And it’s probably just a myth. But you know I love to try these kinds of things.” You widened your eyes at him in amusement, “So, how should I do it? Do I step inside and close my palms together as if I’m wishing?” You chuckled, your blood rising jovially.

Yuta seemed to decide about something, then he closed his eyes as if to release some tension. Is he afraid? The thought made you chuckle. But then he opened his eyes and told you that you needed to step inside the circle and wish.

“Okay! I wish Soojin’s with us…” You frowned but stepped in the circle nonetheless. “I wish that—”

Everything seemed to swirl the moment you said the words. Yuta slowly becoming a blur beside you. You couldn’t stop but spin on the same spot, making your head hurt and your stomach to churn.

“Yuta!” You called out. There wasn’t an answer to your plea but little voices that seems to be laughing at you. What is happening? The sharp and painful stomping of your heart only adds to your anxiety. The world that you knew seems so far away— feels so far away as you spin and spin into nothingness. Into the bluriness of darkness.

You called out for Yuta, begging to be heard. But all seems to fade now— the copse of trees, the sound of the crickets, your voice as you shout for Yuta’s name— they were all gone and all that you could hear was the merriment of the little voices as you plunged into the abyss.

You fell with a thud; a cloud of dust rising all around you as you plummeted into the earth. Your clothes are dusty, you feel your bun loosing its grip on your hair. There was the sound of fire crackling, you opened your eyes.

Creatures loomed around you, their faces monstrous and unique. Some of them have blue skin, some of them has thorns, has spindly limbs, claws instead of fingers. Some of them looked as if they came from the deepest parts of the ocean, some looked half-human and half-animal. They were all dancing around the fire, around you. It took you a second to realized that they’re currently having a fête.

What cosplay world is this? You searched around for anything familiar. There was none. Your vision are full of singing and dancing creatures. The memory of you spinning after you stepped into the fairy ring comes rushing back like a splash of wave against the boulders of rock along the shore.

You stood up, legs trembling from the impact of your collision in the ground. The music slowly receded as a figure slowly emerges from behind the crowd, parting the creatures in her every step.

A woman. With a crown atop her head. She’s wearing an elaborative gown of a champagne color. Her cleavage proudly showing. Veins and twigs hugs her gown— with red flowers adoring the silk. The queen. When she spoke, everyone shushed as well as your heart. “My dearest fairies of this realm, I welcome you to the night that we have all been waiting for. Lay all your troubles behind, let us all dance and sing!” She raised her hands in the air, and the creatures around you all rejoiced.

You feel yourself getting smaller and smaller by their lack of concern towards you. But it was short-lived as the woman stared at you like you’re the most delicious meal she’s ever going to taste. “Oh, what an interesting creature,” Her voice was sultry as she continues to speak, “Welcome to the lands of the fairie, Y/N.”

Everyone shouts, different tones of voices— some were tiny, some sounded like they came from the darkest of the cave, some ethereal. But all of them, despite their varieties in tones, they still sent shivers down your spine. They are not human. They are nothing like you.

“Silence!”

The voice didn’t come from the queen. It came from behind you. Everyone seemed to shut their mouths as yet another figure emerged from the crowd. She wasn’t anything like the queen. The woman who appeared from the crowd holds a branch of tree as her walking stick. Her back has been bent because of old age and she’s wearing a simple brown hood— nothing special. There were no jewelries adorning her body. She reminded you a lot like the old woman in Snow White. And she’s walking straight towards you, eyes boring into yours.

You wanted to run, but where would you go? The shock absorbed all your strength. You couldn’t even scream as she stood in front of you. You fell on your butt to the ground, the old woman towering over you— while the heat of the fire felt so near against your back. No matter what you did, you couldn’t look away at her black irises— so stark against the burning fire behind you.

Her rough hands grasp your cheek, scanning your face for anything, for something. Then her eyes widened, real fear reflected in her orbs. She was scornful as she looked at the Queen, still grasping your cheek, her nails digging in your skin.

“You are a fool, girl.” She spat, eyes blazing with horror.

The Queen doesn’t seem to know what the old woman was trying to convey, she only looked bored. “Yuta, bring your aunt into her own chambers. She is ruining the night for everyone.” She rolled her eyes.

Yuta? He’s not the Yuta you know, right? A man with white hair emerges from behind the Queen. His ears are pointed, and he looks as if he’s shining. He’s beautiful. And he’s indeed Nakamoto Yuta. If you could sink further into the ground, you would. You couldn’t feel your knees, you couldn’t even stand. He’s looking at you apologetically; a silent sorry for what he did to you.

“Yuta,” You were surprised to hear your own voice, no matter how dry it sounded. He walked towards the old woman, not bothering to look at you.

“Yuta, wait!” You scrambled to your feet, but you couldn’t stand, so you crawled towards him— tugging on his clothes. Everything about him screams royalty that it feels wrong to touch him somehow. “Where am I? What is this?” You begged. But he held your hand and slowly pushed you away from him. “Just trust me, Y/N.” He said.

You stare at him, dumbfounded. How could you trust him when it was clear he’s the reason why you’re here? Before Yuta could drag the old woman away from the crowd, she said something to the Queen; shadow of fear was painted on her face as she heard the words.

“You have not realized it yet, but you already brought the wrath of the Fallen into your own kingdom.” Then she stomped far away from the fête, with Yuta trailing behind her.

—

Something is not right, Jaehyun thought. It’s already eight in the morning yet you still haven’t arrived. There’s still no sound of the door creaking open, there’s still no aroma of the coffee infiltrating the air around him. There’s still no trace of you.

Jaehyun massaged his temple, temper rising like the documents on his table. It’s unusual of you to be late. He wanted to calm down and let his mind relax for a bit, but the documents scattered on the floor stands as a proof of him failing to do so. You’re supposed to be back from your mountain hiking— the mere thought of it plus the fact that you spent your little vacation with that fae prince made his blood boil— but you’re still not around after three days. He’s lost count of the times he’d glanced on his phone for a text message. He’s lost count of the times he attempted to call your number just to ask whether you’re alright.

He stood up, hands on his waist. He needed to fucking breathe or else he’d lose it. Where the fuck are you, Y/N? Not seeing your face for three days almost drove him insane. Not to mention the fact that in those miserable days, you were with Yuta. If he could follow you just to make sure Yuta won’t lay a single finger on you, he absolutely would. But he knew it’s best to leave you alone to have your time to think, to heal.

The tall buildings outside of his own seems to blur by thoughts of you, he couldn’t think about anything else other than your well-being. Where are you, what are you doing, are you sick, do you need a break. Come fucking on, Y/N. Just one message. But it’s been three hours since he arrived in the building, still, there wasn’t a single message from you.

He doesn’t even know why is he so unnerved today. This day has been the worst of those three days without you. Perhaps because he’d expected to see your pretty face first thing in the morning, waiting for him patiently on your table.

He couldn’t do this. No. He feels like he might burst sooner or later if he’d make no move to know about your wellfare. So he dialed the front desk and requested for your friend, Soojin. She arrived moments later. And if she isn’t the human embodiment of mess, who is?

Jaehyun blinked at the sight of her. Soojin’s hair was tied in a neat bun, her lips red from a lipstick, but if you’d look closely, fatigue circles her eyes and there’s restlessness by the way that she carries herself. Her current appearance gave Jaehyun an ominous feeling.

“Good morning, Sir. You requested for me?” Even her voice sounded tired. Something is entirely wrong.

Jaehyun cleared his throat, careful not to push the woman in front of him since she looks like she’s about to cry. “Where is Y/N?”

At his question, Soojin covered her face with her hands and began sobbing her heart out. Jaehyun’s jaw twitched as his chest constricted by different thoughts of what possibly happened to you. The woman cried for a good three minutes before she gathered herself and answered. “I… we… don’t have any idea— one moment they were with me, then they were gone.”

“They?” He squinted his eyes.

“Yes. I… I went to sleep first. And I left them— Yuta and Y/N— then they’re gone the next day.”

The mention of Yuta’s name made Jaehyun curl his fingers closed. That bastard. He’s got a bad feeling about where they went— or worse, where Yuta took Y/N with him. He would applaud the audacity of that fae bastard if it wasn’t for the fact that every fiber of his being are being woken up by something he’s completely familiar with; fury.

“Can you write?” He asked Soojin, the girl nodded yes. She slumped on the seat in front of Jaehyun’s office table. “Write all the exact location of the places you went to.” He commanded. Soojin wrote it down without question. The list wasn’t long, which makes the tracing easier to accomplish. Jaehyun told Soojin to go home and get enough rest, since the girl badly needed it. She bowed and then left the office.

He wasted no time to dial Chaelin’s number, the piece of paper crumpled in between his fingers. “Dispatch someone to the location I’m going to send you,” He said as a greeting.

“What’s going on?” The woman inquired.

“Search all the premises. For anything. I need to make sure Yuta took Y/N to the Fairie lands.” He breathed, his patience thinning. He could go straight to the realm of the Fairies but there’s too much to risk— his every step and plan needs reckoning.

“Isn’t Yuta the fairie bastard you told me to take care of?”

“Yes.”

Chaelin groaned, “That faerie prince won’t listen to me. He stated that he doesn’t care whether it’s Lucifer’s line he’s crossing as long as he’d be together with Y/N, forever.”

Jaehyun’s grip on the phone tightened. In his long life of living in the Earth, this is the first time a mere faerie prince neglected him. “Let’s see how far his impudence would take him once I destroy their kingdom.”

—

“We mustn’t let him enter the Fairie realms alone,” Chaelin leaned on the table in Doyoung’s library as she finished informing them about what Jaehyun told him on the phone. She already sent him a picture the fairy ring that was found by Lucas and Jeno near the guest house they had stayed in.

Jaehyun’s response was unpleasant; the call was muffled by cursing and threats that she needed to cut off before Jaehyun could lose his temper completely. The mere fact that a fairie prince dared cross Jaehyun doesn’t really surprised Chaelin— there were kings back then who tried Jaehyun, and all their kingdoms crumbled to dust before their eyes— what baffles her right now is the way how he reacted by your disappearance. For all the years that she’s known Jaehyun, she’s never seen him so disoriented. He always laid out plans in pristine order. He always carries himself neatly even during a war. But right now, it’s different. He’s different because of you.

“Why? It’s not like he’s gonna get himself killed.” Taeyong shrugged as he slumped on the sofa near Chaelin, staring at the ceiling as if to stretch his neck.

Chaelin breathed a sigh of frustration. It seems like she’s the only one who’s actually afraid about Jaehyun’s threat. “Yes. He won’t. But he’s gonna get every fairie annihilated in a blink,”

“That would be beneficial for us, don’t you think?” Taeyong let out a groan, stretching his limbs as he tries to close his eyes.

“Can you hear yourself right now Taeyong? The destruction of the Fairies would disturb the balance of Netherworld.” Doyoung chided in. And it seems like the three of them were the only people who’s actually interested to the discussion.

“Since when did they consider themselves as netherworlders?” Taeyong opened his one eye, the red of his irises gleaming on the bright lights provided both by artificial lightings and moonlight.

Chaelin massaged her temple, the discussion suddenly felt like boulders of rocks on her back. “They don’t. But it’s a fact they’re one of us.” She sighed, “and what do you think Jaehyun would do once he’s in there? Shake hands with the Queen?”

“I think… he would call upon the horsemen.” Kun commented, a vampire in Taeyong’s clan. Fucking finally, Chaelin whispered. Someone other than her seemed to listen.

“I don’t know guys, but I don’t think Jaehyun is that impulsive?” Taeil looked at each of them, brows shot up to his forehead. He’s also a warlock like Doyoung.

Then Xiaojun, a vampire under Taeyong’s clan chimed in, “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like it’s Aurora who’s kidnapped by the Fae. It’s Y/N. She’s another topic. And I don’t think Jaehyun would risk wrecking havoc in the Fairie realms to get her back.”

“I would.” Jaehyun said, entering the library with a bud of cigarette pressed between his lips. With his hair disheveled and his tie hanging loosely on his neck, he pinned them down with a stare. “So you fuckers better decide now, or else I’ll go there alone. And I’m telling you it’s not going to be pleasant.” He crashed his cigarette against the table, scorching the wood as he did so. Chaelin believed the ember wasn’t because of the cigarette only— it also came from Jaehyun’s fingers.

“I won’t risk my changelings, Jaehyun.” Taeyong said, still slumped into the sofa like sloth.

Jaehyun whirled on him, “What the fuck are they here for then? They need to grow some balls, Taeyong.”

It wasn’t normal of Jaehyun to talk the younger ones down. Chaelin realized the fact of you alone and helpless in the Fairie realms ignited something inside Jaehyun which resulted to his attitude towards them.

“Jaehyun, we’re aware that you’re frustrated. But we won’t achieve nothing if you keep being a dick.” Chaelin stated, careful with her tones.

Jaehyun spun around, “And some of us need to fucking check if they have one.” Then stopped at Taeyong’s direction.

Taeyong sprung up from his seat and seethed, “Watch it.” He told Jaehyun. And they both stared each other down.

“Don’t you dare look at me that way, Taeyong.” Jaehyun sounded like he’s talking to a child. His ancient glory towering over Taeyong. Chaelin sighed from the sight.

“While the two of you are bickering about your masculinity, the Fae could be doing nasty fairie stuff with Y/N.” Doyoung sounded tired, “We need to plan! If Taeyong doesn’t want his changelings involved, let him! For fuck’s sake Jaehyun, you alone could get Y/N back. What more if we’re with you? We don’t have to bring everyone.”

Taeyong was the first one to break the tensed atmosphere by sighing and clapping Jaehyun at his back. The latter ran a hand through his hair, a dispirited sigh leaving his lips.

“When do we leave?” Ten, a warlock, emerges from behind the stacks of books. Chaelin didn’t know he was with them all along.

“At dawn.” They aren’t words, they are an order. A command from Lucifer.

#jaehyun nct au #jung jaehyun au #jaehyun imagines #nct imagines #nct au #jung yuno imagines #yuno au #it's TOO LONG FORGIVE ME

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a-napoleon-lover-at-17 · 4 years ago

Text

Je t'aime (Self Insert)

( @arsnovacadenza @batteryrose Credits go to you. Your works are so beautiful and inspiring, it made me write this.)

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

Hands clasped together, she watched him.

Her chocolate brown eyes followed him as he moved, her dark skin flushing red at the beautiful man who walked past.

Napoléon Bonaparte.

Eyes of turquoise, hair like the night sky, dark but silvery, skin as smooth as polished ivory, he looked like an angel who had descended straight from heaven.

What truly made him angelic, though, was his kindness. His life, his very name was associated with controversy, a thousand questionable actions. But that could not mask his kindness. How he cared for people, strangers or those close. He strove to protect. In his past life, and this one too. He had no reason to do all this. But he did. He tried to help people, for no real reason. And that was perhaps what she adored most about him.

Selflessness.

The capability and willingness to sacrifice so much for the greater good. Sacrificing any chance at a normal life, any chance of true happiness, of his own peace of mind, his morals for the sake of his country. Sullying his hands with the blood and bone of so many. All for his country.

And choosing to live with that? Willingly taking all that responsibility?

That took a kind of strength and nobility character that few could possess. To look yourself in the eye and say, "Yes, I did this. I accept it. And I'll live with it." When your actions were questionable to say the least, that would gain you so many enemies, give you so much pain… How could she not respect that?

How could she not love him?

She hid her face in her asymmetrical, wavy and straight black hair, hoping to hide her blush. Hoping to God he wouldn't see her. It would be too embarrassing.

He was so perceptive. So quick to see through someone. And he used this ability to bring people at ease. To help them. This was why many said that he was charismatic, and could sway people to see his point and agree. She knew that desire of wanting to be understood and heard, and having that desire fulfilled would make one soft for the person who fulfilled that desire.

She would know. She had been waiting her whole life for it.

As a result, he was so loved by people. Men, women, children, everyone. So many women vied for his attention and affection. Maybe even men. She didn't want to seem like another one of those people.

But she was.

She knew that she'd be dismissed as a starry-eyed naïevete should she ever approach him. With kindness and gentleness, true, he was too good a man to toy with people's feelings. He could act upon his kindness in this life, and he'd do the same with her.

She only knew of le Comte's mansion and the people inside from accidentally eavesdropping on Father Faust talking to someone else in church. She kept it to herself, for who'd believe her?

The more she learnt about the residents, the more she learnt about Napoléon, the more she fell for him, the more she realised that she didn't stand a chance. He had seen so much of the world. Meet so many people. Done so many things. Had so many lovers, she thought bitterly. Why would he settle for a hopeless romantic and optimist? A simple girl who didn't even speak his mother tongue, who hadn't seen what he had. A girl who was decently intelligent, but had her head in the clouds and was average looking at best. Why on Earth would he want her?

Tears pricked her eyes as these thoughts crossed her mind, watching him walk by, listening to his beautiful voice saying something to his amethyst eyed companion. Jean d'Arc, the Saint of New Orleans. He knew people like that. What made you think he'd ever like YOU?

Monsieur d'Arc said something to him in French. With her limited knowledge of the language she could tell what a few words meant. "La jeune femme là-bas vous regarde." She understood only a few words. 'The' 'woman' 'looking'.

Are they talking about me?

Napoléon turned to discreetly look at the gaze he had felt upon him the moment he came to the market with Jean. A young woman, fairly chubby with dark skin and eyes, dressed in white, a basket in hand had her face covered in her hair. The minute she saw him look at her, she turned and ran. He blinked. "What a strange woman."

Scarlett ran as fast as her feet could take her, stopping only at the flower field she loved so much. She collapsed on the grass, basket clutched close to her bosom, out of breath and flushed. I haven't run like that in days.

Closing her eyes to steady and rest herself for a few moments, she sighed. "Stupid. That was too obvious. And so creepy!" She pursed her lips, and then laughed bitterly. "But what else to expect from me, hmm?"

She lay there for a while, then got up in a sitting position.

A gentle breeze blew across the field, making her hair billow away from her face.

A red rose came dancing through the wind, landing on her lap. "That's odd. Someone probably plucked it and forgot, I guess." She picked it up and held it near her nose.

Roses. They reminded her of him. So many petals, so many layers, all beautiful.

Thinking of him, the tears came again. Closing her eyes, she kissed the rose, thinking of him, wishing it were him, whispering words he would never hear. Not from her, anyway.

"Je t'aime."

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #ikevam napoleon #ikevam jean #ikevam jeanne #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire jean d'arc #self insert #lowkey angst #unrequited love

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luluwquidprocrow · 4 years ago

Text

and i’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones

originally posted: august 25th, 2019

word count: 13,060 words

rated: not rated

beatrice/bertrand/lemony

heavy angst, canon compliant, with enough canon divergence that makes the canon compliance worse, epistolary

summary:

and if you don’t love me, let me go.

[a much less than 200 pages break up letter.]

opening notes:

title from the engine driver by the decemberists

By the time you read this

I guess an at least interesting description of us could be like ships passing in the night

I think now is

I think now might be the time for us to

First of all, I have canceled my subscription to the Daily Punctilio, which was just a good move on my part to begin with, and second of all, I couldn’t believe all that anyway, but third of all, do you know, Lemony

You’ll think me such a damn hypocrite, won’t you.

Why now? Why would I

Why would you do this now?

My Heart and I

ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.

We sit beside the headstone thus,

And wish that name were carved for us.

The moss reprints more tenderly

The hard types of the mason's knife,

As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life

With which we're tired, my heart and I.

II.

You see we're tired, my heart and I.

We dealt with books, we trusted men,

And in our own blood drenched the pen,

As if such colours could not fly.

We walked too straight for fortune's end,

We loved too true to keep a friend ;

At last we're tired, my heart and I.

III.

How tired we feel, my heart and I !

We seem of no use in the world ;

Our fancies hang grey and uncurled

About men's eyes indifferently ;

Our voice which thrilled you so, will let

You sleep; our tears are only wet :

What do we here, my heart and I ?

IV.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

It was not thus in that old time

When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime

To watch the sunset from the sky.

Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;

I, smiling at him, shook my head :

'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

Though now none takes me on his arm

To fold me close and kiss me warm

Till each quick breath end in a sigh

Of happy languor. Now, alone,

We lean upon this graveyard stone,

Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

VI.

Tired out we are, my heart and I.

Suppose the world brought diadems

To tempt us, crusted with loose gems

Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.

We scarcely care to look at even

A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,

We feel so tired, my heart and I.

VII.

Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?

In this abundant earth no doubt

Is little room for things worn out :

Disdain them, break them, throw them by

And if before the days grew rough

We once were loved, used, — well enough,

I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who knew what she was talking about

My Dearest Darling,

You call me a lot of things but, to be perfectly frank (not Ernest), Lemony, I think I’ve always liked that one the least. There was that summer where, among other things, Bertrand was trying to come up with nicknames for us in that charming way of his, and he came up with a real mess of awful nicknames and then I came up with the list we could Never Repeat In Public (capitals necessary) and then you said something very sweet to both of us, and anyway, we know what happened there, but the point of this is that you held us close and said, very seriously, that you would never ever ever ever ever (for the span of what I’d figure would be maybe two pages, short but evenly-spaced), no matter what happened, call Bertrand ‘Bert’ and that was damn good of you because Bertrand is not a Bert and never will be. We were right to veto Bertie, as well. He is a Bertrand, through and through. The other point was that you wound up calling us nicknames too but dearest darling was maybe the worst of all of them. Bea was my favorite. I liked the way you said it and I liked the way it sounded and I felt noble perfect unstoppable invincible worried fragile good when you said it. And that was good.

Speaking of, right now, Bertrand is with Kit, and don’t worry, they’re not talking about you (I know how you worry). They’re talking about boats and maps and cooking spices and Widdershins will probably come by later to give them both his version of A Stern Talking To (capitals debatable) about open water expeditions, which will probably be something like, ‘Fire this harpoon at anything suspicious! Aye! Shoot first and ask questions later! Aye!’ and it’s a real miracle that man doesn’t have a whole boatload of albatrosses hanging around somewhere. (Unless he does, and I just haven’t seen it.)

Bertrand and I—well, we’ve kept the house up. Even though he has that thing for natural light, you know what I mean. But we’ve managed to decorate it nicely. I got the Gothic Furniture (capitals required), he got his large windows, there is a last unopened root beer bottle in the fridge because every time we look at it both of us think about how you said it’s impolite to take the last one, and I thought, maybe I’d save it for when you came back but I don’t

The last thing I want is to

Bertrand and I, we’re going out to dinner tonight, because we’re still not all that comfortable with the kitchen yet. I mean, why did we get such a fancy kitchen? I’m sure one of these days I’ll come around to it and it’ll be fine but right now it’s, it seems a hassle, I guess. So we’re going out and I’ve already decided that I’m going to order this truly egregious amount of pasta and no one will stop me!

We don’t really have any plans for tomorrow. As it stands right now. We’ve both been sort of taking things as they come lately. Bertrand, Bertrand’s been very busy. Both of us have been busy, but I think he’s been trying to keep his mind occupied. A lot of us have. Even Hector looks more concerned than he usually does. I saw him the other day—not here, in town—and I didn’t think it was possible for Hector to look that harried. So much has been happening lately, I feel like even I haven’t had time to catch my breath, even in this part of the city. It’s like everything’s been going a mile a minute, taking me with it, and the moments where it stops, the moments where I have the time to think, are unbearably, agonizingly slow. But most of my life has been like that, you know.

And I know, I know you are too. Busy. And concerned.

I know.

When you

Did you

The last performance of our play was three days ago. Since the Daily Punctilio doesn’t have a theater section anymore, Bertrand and I haven’t been reading any rave reviews but we were rereading but, what can you do. Geraldine’s moved on to some other column now too, something about, I don’t even know, tax evasion? Shoes? I can never understand a single thing she writes. Even that ‘Secret Organizations You Should Know About’ thing didn’t even pan out, can you believe that? All she did was write about Esmé! All that trouble for

It looks like it’ll be the last play for a while. I know they wanted us to go on longer, but, well, that’s how it has to be. Don’t know what I’m going to do with myself without a script to lug around, but I’ll probably memorize something for kicks. Gilda Farrell’s lines, maybe, that’d be fun.

But it’d be better if you

This is really the first time I’ve had one of those unbearably slow moments in a while, and of course the first thing I think of is you. You and Bertrand have always filled those gaps for me, but now it’s different. It’s just

I saw Jacques the other day and he

Ramona’s the only one who hasn’t been so

I want to see you so much, Lemony. With everything I have, I want you with me, and I keep hoping that if I close my eyes, when I open them again, there you’ll be, alive and well and next to me and real. Or I’ll walk away from my desk and this letter and when I look back it’ll all have been a bad dream, the worst nightmare I keep stopping and hoping and when you’re not there and I’m still here I

I don’t know how to do this. I can’t

I didn’t want to do it like this.

I don’t want you to I’m, burying the lede, or doing any of this on purpose or anything, because by now you’ve definitely noticed how long this is (although, personally, I’m only at the beginning, but I have a feeling this is going to get long—I know I’ve said I could run laps around the city in the time it takes you to finish a single metaphor but between the two of us we both know I could go on for much longer and will), and you have a vague idea, or a concrete idea, or an idea you don’t want to think about, of where I’m going to go with this. If it was something simple it wouldn’t be like this. If I was just, telling you the news, I wouldn’t need so much time, and I need so much of it. I’m setting the stage trying to making sure I wanted to I can’t just

I am a weak woman, Lemony Snicket. And that is a complete lie, you and I know, but I am a weak woman and I don’t want to be but my hands are shaking.

You and I. You and I know so many things.

So why should we

We both know how to make Ramona laugh, and the right amount of sugar for Olivia’s tea, and where Jacques will be on Tuesdays even though he pretends he doesn’t keep a regular schedule, and where Monty has his keys stashed in his garden, and everything possible about Bertrand, including what book he’s reading right now even though you haven’t been home in two months (it’s still that cat book because he says he wants to see the look on your face when he reads it out loud after dinner) (it’s still that cat book), and what kind of records Kit wants for her birthday even though she never has the time to play them, and even what Esmé is going to eat tomorrow because would you believe that herring is still in, to her continued consternation. She can talk all she wants about how good herring is but I still see that look on her face when she eats it! Every meal, Lemony! I’m giggling as we speak and I wish you could see her because it is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my LIFE

Maybe those things are superficial, but they’re things we know about people, about ourselves, and that counts, doesn’t it? And—and I know what you look like when you wake up and I know what you look like when you’re fixing your typewriter and I have to help and I know what you look like when you think I’m not looking at you, and there was a time where that meant you didn’t look like everyone you knew had just died. You know what I look like at my worst, the worst I ever let you see. You knew it anyway. You It was enough.

And Bertrand. I know I’ve said it before but, you and I were so lucky. Lots of good things came from of this, right? The three of us, you and me and Bertrand. Our apartment and that wallpaper we took down in Bertrand’s when he moved out of his, with those horrendous yellow stripes. The cat we pretended to have and the elaborate medical history we made for it so we’d all have an excuse to go home early. (That poor cat, though. I don’t think it would’ve been possible for it to really survive like that. We should be better to our imaginary pets next time in the future.) Watching Bertrand dance to my records, which was terrible because we hadn’t taught him to dance yet. Trying out those new recipes. Keeping the windows open in the summer. The diner down the street, the ice cream shop on the corner, that night it rained and we all stayed outside and got soaking wet because why not? Bertrand making that excessive amount of soup the next day. You telling us we were the only things that mattered. Bertrand would push your hair out of your face when you were sleeping and I wanted to watch that for the rest of my life. I wanted it to be the last thing I ever saw.

Those moments, every moment. Reading in the dark, losing my glasses, you stopped dead the first time we were out with Bertrand and he was under a streetlamp and you both looked so beautiful and you kissed him for the first time and you didn’t even remember to be nervous.

And those million citations Jacques didn’t give us for public indecency during that spring he was disguised as a police officer. (He was definitely kidding when he brought it up. There was no way he could’ve seen us.)

It makes me so happy, to think about all that. I love you and Bertrand so much. I

Oh Lemony. I don’t think I can do any of this.

-------

In other better happier general news, Gustav let Bertrand and me see the pictures from the wedding, and then he archived them, because we agreed that was for the best, and Bertrand figured you’d probably say the same. I look absolutely stunning, and Bertrand looks incredibly handsome even though he finally admitted he agrees with you, that hat was not his style, and you, Lemony, in that white suit that matched Bertrand’s with those peach-colored flowers because peach is a better color than I ever gave it credit for and it looked so good in the spring because it was the color the wall in the living room turned when the afternoon sun hit, you look

It was such a beautiful day. Still spring, and right after Bertrand’s birthday. Us, Kit, Jacques, Ramona, Olivia, Dewey, Hector. Jerome was invited—or he was supposed to be, who knows what happened there. We barely saw Gustav the whole time too, since he kept climbing up into trees for better angles. The smallest place we could find that would hold all of us and be so out of the way. The cake Kit made, against everyone’s expectations. Ramona cried, because of course she did. All those flowers, no one could move the whole time for walking into at least six bees, but no one minded. So much love. It was palpable, and my whole body was alive with it, with such a soft warmth I could barely breathe. I don’t think I ever stopped smiling, not while dancing or singing or kicking my shoes off because such mortal trappings cannot contain me, or when you and Bertrand danced and you cried, or when a crow flew overhead and we all stopped, just for a single second, before every one of us decided not to care. For a few hours one glorious afternoon.

You look happier than I’ve ever seen you before and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see you like that again or forever and I’m sorry, I was right, I can’t do this, I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this

-------

I’ve taken a few deep breaths and I’m ready to

Oh who am I KIDDING

Lemony I love you so much and I need you so much my heart is going to break with it

justice does not need eyes to see,

but truth built himself eyes

in the porcelain patterns of his world

and let them do the talking

in the skies he

so kindly

let them see,

with the eyes he gave them,

one after another

after another

i was something else

but i lived so close beside

that they could not accuse me

of being blind

but i could’ve seen everything

if i could see with every eye,

one after another

after another

after another,

every eye

a certainty,

every eye

the truth,

every eye

mine alone.

You told me when we were younger that I should give rhyming verse a try and, well, Lemony, not everything you said was good advice.

-------

I do, though. I love you a great deal. I think it confuses people. Besides the fact that some of them never understood our relationship with Bertrand (cowards), I get the impression some of our associates don’t know why I love you. Which is just stupid of them, and I don’t owe them anything, none of them are going to read this. It’s not their business why I love you, it’s ours. And I love you because

How can you explain why you love someone? Someone can say ‘they make me laugh’ as much as they want and sure it’s true but is that really why? Can you ever really say why? Isn’t it enough to love somebody, with everything you have? To say, that’s the one I want, for the rest of my life? Who could I possibly need to defend myself to?

I love you because I love you, because I look at you and think I love you, because I inhale and exhale that I love you, because every part of me only feels right with you.

I love you because you embarrassed me but I thought you were kind. I love you because I didn’t ever have to explain anything. I love you because you always came back to me. I love you because you made me happy. I love you because you didn’t let anything stop you from loving me. I love you because you loved me. I love you because when you took my hand I thought I could do anything with that love.

I love you because you were mine. I love you because you looked at me. And I love you because it was more than that, it always was.

I love you because of the records you played. I love you because of the time we taught Bertrand to make root beer floats. I love you because you’d rehearse our lines with us even though you can’t act. I love you because of the way you would stand in the kitchen and wonder what you should make for dinner. I love you because you said you’d plant strawberry bushes in the backyard. I love you because you could never stand Geraldine Julienne. I love you because we would all sit around the table in my apartment and critique the newspaper articles together. I love you because you’d never take the train. I love you because Bertrand and I found every shortcut in the city for you. I love you because you and Bertrand would knit me the ugliest sweaters on purpose. I love you because you would take care of the bats for me and you were terrible at it.

I love you because you were wonderful where it counted. I love you because we’d stay up late and watch movies. I love you because you would hold Bertrand like it was the most important thing in the world. I love you because you would furrow your brow when you read something you didn’t like. I love you because you’d take me to the beach when it was cold. I love you because we went on picnics in the summer. I love you because when I walked into our apartment and then when I walked into our house it always felt like home. I love you because we made up that cat. I love you because you’d sing with me. I love you because Bertrand would take us bird-watching and name the birds with us. I love you because you bought me flowers.

I love you because you told me what happened. I love you because we went back there with you. I love you because I went into the lighthouse. I love you because I wasn’t going to not go. I love you because no one else would’ve gone. I love you because we let you walk out the door there and I knew you would come back.

I love you because we used to make out in the back of the movie theater and we’d take turns with Bertrand and then try to piece together what even happened in the movie when we got home. I love you because you used to sit in dark rooms with me and pretend we were ghosts and scare the other volunteers. I love you because we could just read for hours and not say a word. I love you because you let me cry in the bathroom. I love you because you would make up songs on the accordion when I was upset. I love you because I would whistle along when you did songs I knew. I love you because you would go out of your way to buy crackers. I love you because you would say things like “when we first met, you were pretty, and I was lonely” and you let me laugh. I love you because you would write me notes during class. I love you because you looked the same way I did the first time we saw Bertrand—shocked, and then a little impressed, and then irritated, because who did he think he was? I love you because who did any of us think we were, really. I love you because we grew to not care. I love you because we became people I was proud of.

I love you because you would feed that cat in the back alley on your way home and I would watch you from the window. I love you because that cat followed us to our house and then we had a real live legitimate cat until someone across the street put out better cat food. I love you because of the way you would read out loud, because you couldn’t act but when you read it was like seeing the sunrise for the first time. I love you because the one thing you did that was better than Bertrand was make tea. I love you because you taught me all your cookie recipes. I love you because we got you to sleep in the middle so we could protect you. I love you because they couldn’t take that away from me.

I love you because I’m here in an otherwise empty house, some boxes still unpacked, letting the dust settle, pouring my heart out when I don’t want to, because I do love you with everything I have, every part of me, every bone and every sigh and every drop of blood, and that’s the end of that. That’s all there is, I love you. That’s what it comes down to, I love you. That’s the only thing I want to say, I love you.

I do, I do love you. Lemony, please believe me.

-------

I know Bertrand has his own thoughts, his own opinions. He doesn’t want to admit that he does, but he gets this, look, on his face. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, like he’s lost something special but it was there a moment ago, wasn’t it. He thinks I haven’t noticed. After all this time, he thinks he’s not supposed to be here, and you it hurts, is all.

And as much as Bertrand is a part of us, indelibly, forever, just as you are, both of you so a part of me that I ache with it, this letter is between you and me. Not because it was the two of us first. But because you know, for as much as I don’t want to, I’ll say the things Bertrand won’t.

That’s how this has to be.

-------

So.

Olaf’s started talking to me again, which I didn’t think would happen in a million years. Although maybe I shouldn’t call it talking? More like, he sort of shows up if he knows I’m at headquarters (which is far and few between anyway so, really, what the hell?) and lounges in doorways with these big smiles and says these dramatic things at me instead of to me, which he can’t possibly expect me to believe. How stupid does he think I am? Because I’m not. He keeps going, hey Beatrice, have you read the Daily Punctilio? And I don’t say anything to him, even though yes, I’ve read the Daily Punctilio, dammit.

You and I both know what’s in the Daily Punctilio, and for a while I thought, maybe you were writing those articles yourself, part of another fragmentary plot, and that you’d tell me about it later, and you’d explain it to me, even though I wouldn’t need it to be explained, not really. But you didn’t. Not that you didn’t explain, you just, you just didn’t tell me anything. And you were gone and I couldn’t even see you anyway and that was what really made it hard? It wasn’t like I doubted you. I didn’t. I didn’t doubt you. I knew you wouldn’t do any of those things.

But everyone looked at me and they looked so damn pitying, like, oh it happens to the best of us, only he’s not the best of us. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming, well you know what he’s like, as if nothing had ever happened? As if we hadn’t grown up together? As if we wouldn’t have followed you to the ends of the earth because we believed in you? It’s not everyone, but it’s enough. Like some of them don’t owe you their lives.

Bertrand says that people deal with things in different ways, and saying those things about you is probably just another way they’re dealing with everything. Don’t you think it’s harder, it’s gotten harder, as we’ve gotten older? But they don’t have to throw you under the bus to do it. They don’t have to vilify you to make themselves feel better. They don’t have to look me in the eye like that, like I’m some, some poor miserable thing, or like I have to be protected, or like I don’t know what I’m doing, or like they can’t even trust me.

But what does that make me?

And Olaf would grin at me and I would hold my head high and look him back and spit in his face. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. It had only been a month. How long is a month, in the grand scheme of things? What does a month matter, against the beginning of a lifetime? And when a month became two, what did that matter?

-------

I wouldn’t say that Hector and I were ever particularly close, but I’ve actually seen a lot of him lately. We meet up for tea because he keeps saying there’s something he wants to talk to me about but mostly he sits there and looks at his tea and I pretend I’m not super uncomfortable. And then he insists on paying the check, in exact change.

When I see Hector, I think about Haruki. I know how close they were. And Haruki respected you so much, more than anyone else. As in, he respected you more than he respected any of our other friends, but also more than maybe anyone else respected you, because that was how Haruki was. Loyal, the best of the best, and so fierce about it. I wanted him there at our wedding.

Haruki was really the first person we lost, I guess. And I hate how we’re never going to know how it happened, because they say no one else was there, and the one person we do know was there, he’s never going to say a damn thing about it, and we all know that for sure. But I remember everyone gathering around to write Haruki’s obituary and how little we had to say. Not because we didn’t know him. But because, what were we going to say? What did we have left to say, who did Haruki have left, besides us? And what were we?

Hector looks at me and I don’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t know what to say to me. I’m terrified he’s going to tell me I should’ve known better too because then I won’t be able to stand it. But he just looks at me and I try not to cry and I’m trying not to cry now because he’s feeling it too, this awful business of feeling like things are starting to break. Sometimes I feel Hector is going to disappear, too.

--------

I guess the question I started to think was, how long was I going to wait. Bertrand and I had waited for longer, and then there were times where we never waited, and hadn’t we reached a point where we weren’t supposed to, anymore? But then, when you’re married, aren’t you supposed to do whatever you have to?

But doesn’t it go both ways? One half can do their part but doesn’t the other half have to do something too and how much is it before you’re asking too much but how long is it before you’re not doing enough and when you’re married aren’t you supposed to know the answers to all the questions, the right and the wrong ones, you’re not supposed to care and you’re supposed to be there and it’s all is supposed to be okay, and

We never did do anything traditionally, though, did we?

-------

I saved the article. I didn’t save all of them, but I saved this one.

-------

UNIDENTIFIED BODY IDENTIFIED

The unidentified body recently pulled from the downtown river has been identified as local ex-theater critic and renowned person of interest, Lemony Snicket, who was last seen surveying the river and saying, “How deep do you think it really is?”

“For the record,” said the local police, who preferred to remain nameless and sent in their response by postcard from three towns over, “it was three feet.”

Mr. Snicket was identified by a source who was also unidentified, but proved their credentials by singing a variety of showtunes for the newspaper staff, to great applause.

“Yes, I suppose that’s him,” said the source, when asked to identify the photo of the river, which was presented to them while they were drinking a glass of water, because they were parched after the showtunes. When the glass of water spilled on the photograph, the source went on to say, “Oh, that’s definitely him.”

The body in question disappeared as soon as it was found, but the police have no reason to suspect foul play, as no livestock was found at the scene, the morgue, or the local bakery, and neither does our source.

“Can I leave now?” asked the source. “I need to go pick up my glasses.”

Mr. Snicket has recently been the suspect in a number of crimes, including arson, lockpicking, theft, and jaywalking without a license. He has been described as “that’s not what I would call a grey suit, it leaned closer to charcoal.” There is no planned funeral service at this time.

-------

Bertrand and I laughed a lot, because it was the most outrageous article we’d ever read, and we kept talking about what sort of bakery would even allow livestock inside, and of course we knew it was about you, but of course it wasn’t you, because we didn’t know where you were but we knew you were alive. You were alive, so no matter what we read or what anyone told us, no matter who wanted to believe what, we knew the truth.

And, again, Lemony, it wasn’t that I needed you to explain. It was that I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to let me in on it. I wanted you to call or come by and tell us, your husband and your wife, hey no big deal but I’m gonna fake my death for the foreseeable future, is that okay? And instead I have to find out from Olaf waving it in my face? I have to find out from some absurd article I shouldn’t have even looked twice at? I have to find out from people I thought were my friends telling me I should have known better?

I sure don’t need to tell you, but, we just got married, Lemony! And we had a house and a life and plans and no matter what happened, no matter what else we had to do, because there was no way we were ever going to give this up and we knew that, we were going to stay together, we were going to do this, what we promised, not to other people but to ourselves, and each other, and

Sometimes I want to think that you planned it like that, that you sat down and thought to yourself about the best worst way to do it and you thought, leaving us alone like this and faking your death and not saying a single word was the greatest way to break our hearts, especially after marrying us, that would hurt the most, you wanted to do it so you did it and you got away from us for good like you always wanted because you were never going to stay and you knew it, because then I can hate you like I’m supposed to and stop thinking of the way you smile at me

I hate that you aren’t a cruel person, I hate that you didn’t do it on purpose, I hate that the real true human tradition is that people are human and nothing else

How am I supposed to do this?

a bird up in her chamber

eats love for breakfast lunch and dinner

and steadily gets thinner

sings songs she won’t forget,

in the darkness by the lamps

says the shapes of lonely words

said by lonely people

in lonely rooms

to feel better about

being

what is a life with this alone

what is a life

like this?

“when we grab you by the ankle, where your life is ours to take

you’ll soon be doing wicked things, they’ll keep you long awake

when your whole life is a secret then you’ll be a volunteer

and you’ll scream a long time later, for

the world was never quiet here.”

-------

Bertrand has been making lists. You know his tendency to organize, but the funny thing is he just keeps leaving them places. I’m sitting on like, three of them.

To Do

-Check maps

-Apologize to D

-Extra key

-Secure boat

-Study family trees

To Buy

-Thick, sturdy rope

-Do they make portable record players?

-Paintbrushes (for then and now, so get extra)

-White curtains? Will they match? Check ‘To Think’

-Extra wires, no candles!

To Think

-Ask Kit about Bernadette

-Examine garden for hiding spots

-Turtles or foxes?

-What if it turns out to be true?

-Or birds??

Definitely not birds.

-------

You know, I haven’t seen Jerome in a while. Maybe it’s also been two months, I’m not sure. I feel like, even before the wedding, we weren’t seeing much of him—although it wasn’t like Jacques paraded him around or anything in the first place—but since then, I don’t think Jacques has even talked about him.

This means Jacques’s Tuesdays are open now, although you’d never know it. He still only shows up when he wants to. And if he doesn’t want to, then you have as much luck finding him as finding a grammar rule Jo doesn’t know. It must run in the family. I hate to

I had Kit get ahold of him for me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what to say to Kit anymore, which is unsettling, but Kit acts like she always does. She comes over and makes herself at home and talks to both of us like this is average everyday Kit business for her. I don’t know if I admire her tenacity or if it’s going to be something else I can’t stand down the line. I don’t know yet. She hugged me when she left, though. That’s just how Kit is. And I don’t really want to lose that.

I wasn’t sure if Kit would know, the thing I wanted to ask Jacques. I guess it wouldn’t surprise me if she did, but when I saw her I thought, maybe she didn’t know. She didn’t talk about you at all. And it wasn’t the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I’m Being Purposefully Vague For Reasons, Now Deal With It’ sort of silence, it was the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I Refuse to Admit I Don’t Know This Piece of Information, So I’m Going to Rearrange Your Bookshelves’ sort of silence. Still don’t know where she put T.S. Eliot. I think she took it with her.

Jacques didn’t want to talk to me. He’s too polite to say it, but I could tell. He kept making excuses, and by the time we finally got him to come here, he was uncomfortable and I was on edge. He came right out and said he couldn’t stay long. He knew why I wanted to talk to him and he told me straightforward that he couldn’t tell me.

I’m not proud of what I said to him.

-------

If it was the last day, but it probably was but Lemony, I don’t I sure didn’t know.

I will remember every second until the day I die.

We waited until after the wedding to move into the house, especially because the only honeymoon we wanted was for the three of us to be there together, alone, for a little while. It was on the outskirts of the city, away from everything else, and we barely told anyone. We didn’t even tell everyone from the wedding.

I watched the sunrise, the soft shadows sliding along the sheets on the bed, catching on the suitcases we still hadn’t unpacked all the way, you and Bertrand warm beside me, and I didn’t want to get up. We put the best bed in the whole world in our room, and rightly so. High bed posts but no canopy because Bertrand was worried about dust. Crisp white sheets and I was so excited to look when we finally got up and see the wrinkles mashed down in them from where we slept because that meant it was ours for real. That rich wine comforter that it was too hot to use the first night so we still had it folded up at the foot of the bed, but you had this look in your eyes when we spread it out like you couldn’t wait for winter and when we’d be squished up against each other underneath it for warmth.

That morning, I just wanted to lay there and savor it. It wasn’t like we’d never been in the same bed before, or that we even needed to be married, but! To know I could hold it in my hands, that’s what it was.

And then Bertrand rolled over and got an elbow into my side somehow and you mumbled something about Wedding Pancakes (capitals implied) and then we had to eat breakfast.

I checked. The wrinkles were all there.

-------

Bertrand and I.

We haven’t

We’ve been

We’ve been angry at each other.

And you know Bertrand, he doesn’t get angry, really, he gets, more disappointed than anything, but he’s. He’s been angry. At me. I know.

I get scared, because I don’t know what to do, so I, I can’t hold a conversation without yelling at somebody, and it’s usually Bertrand, and I hate yelling at him and sometimes he starts to yell back.

We’re not. Okay. Right now.

We weren’t supposed to do this without you and I don’t want to find out that we can’t, Lemony. And I know we can but I know it’s also not a matter of doing it with or without you, because that’s awful, I just keep wondering what if you were what held us all together and if you’re not here how are Bertrand and I supposed to go on like this. Saying the wrong things, avoiding each other, not coming home. I guess that’s how we’re ‘dealing’ with it but that’s sure some sick way to do it.

I don’t want to lose anybody and fighting for them means that I want to keep screaming until everything stops.

-------

Jacques said you’d be back soon enough.

I told him I needed to know how soon was soon.

He said soon enough.

I said that wasn’t enough.

I never though of Jacques as one to yell. And he didn’t really yell, he mostly raised his voice, like I couldn’t hear him. I mean I was definitely talking over him but it was because I could hear him and I didn’t want to.

No one can tell me anything I don’t know. I know they think I haven’t felt the same worries as everyone else but that’s because I never wanted them to think that I did. And I did too good a job, apparently. I know we live hard lives, Jacques. I know it requires sacrifices, Jacques. I know there’s no guarantee, Jacques. I know there’s things you have to give up. I know you can’t be childish or selfish in this business. I know we knew what would happen. I know sometimes no matter how hard you try, you’re just going to fail.

He told me to wait for you.

-------

After breakfast, we organized the library, because we still had so many things in boxes but we agreed we had to get that done. We put everything in, every repeat copy and every notebook because we actually had room for everything instead of trying to cram it all into smaller bookshelves. The library was the biggest room in the house and had that beautiful windowseat. (It still does. We’re still in this house, after all, but this moment, this day, just isn’t right now.) I’ll admit I spent more time lounging on it than I did organizing books, but, you sat on that windowseat with me, you knew how comfortable it was. I loved those windows and how bright the sun was (really.) and how good I knew it was going to look when it was raining. And you agreed, and Bertrand rolled his eyes at us, and I told him, he got his natural light, what more did he want?

For two people to stop lazing around and figure out if we were going in alphabetical order or by genre or by which ones most recently made us cry over lunch, Bertrand said.

It was alphabetical, of course.

We forgot about lunch, because we put the record player in the library until we could find another place for it and started playing our favorites. Bertrand could dance by then, obviously, we wouldn’t have married him if he couldn’t. We were very good at dancing together, after practicing for so long. No one was ever going to do a better three-way tango and we all knew it.

We picked through the fridge and some of the wedding gifts, once we got hungry and tired of dancing. We found out Jerome somehow still sent us at least thirty coasters, and learned that he apparently wildly overestimates our social life, because there was no way we were going to be inviting thirty people at a time over anymore, or at least, not for a while. You and Bertrand stacked them in the dining room in a cabinet, and those you organized by color. Then we stood at the window there and looked out into the garden (the best view of it was from the dining room) and talked about the flowers we were going to plant, and how Ramona was going to send us (express) a clipping from one of the rosebushes in her garden, the ones we’d look at during her family’s masked balls.

We went to the corner store down the street and you and Bertrand pretended to fuss over tomatoes while I was looking at loaves of bread and when I turned around you were buying flowers for me, red and bright and beautiful. We put them in the kitchen while we all made dinner (salmon, with cherry tomatoes). Somehow I found the time to make sorbet for dessert and it was only then we realized how late it was and we laughed a lot that day and laughed a lot then because we didn’t need to care about things like that. Our house was barely put together and we tried to find a way to use every single coaster from Jerome and we hadn’t had words with the city about the electricity yet because there was so much we’d had to do beforehand that we had to use candles. We all had matches, and we weren’t naive enough to think we wouldn’t have them.

I can’t tell you how powerful I felt, lighting those candles, because I know you and Bertrand felt it too. This was our doing and ours alone. This space was ours. We looked at each other over the candles, the shadows on our faces, and we’d never looked clearer.

We could’ve lived forever, in that moment.

-------

I called your brother a coward and I told him that whatever happened to Jerome now that he wouldn’t protect him was his fault and his alone and if he could live with himself that’s fine but I couldn’t if I didn’t try to do this and if he didn’t tell me where you were I was going to kill him where he stood and he shouldn’t even think for one second that I wasn’t capable of doing what had to be done and if that meant I had to kill for what I wanted then I would.

-------

You kissed us in the morning. You smiled. You walked out the door and then came back because you forgot your hat and Bertrand and I were still laughing even as the door shut behind you.

And then you were gone.

-------

Kit came by again, after.

We sat in that silence.

She told me that it was the one thing they hadn’t told her. She hadn’t known, until I asked Jacques. We don’t have anywhere else to go, she said, in a moment of unprecedented candidness. So we always come back.

“I underestimated him,” she said.

I told her she could keep The Wasteland, since it was practically hers because it had been yours. Kit smiled. She didn’t say much else.

-------

Bertrand and I aren’t the only ones losing someone here and I forgot that.

Jacques and I looked at each other for a long time. I tried to apologize and he kept shaking his head. He told me where you were. He told me he didn’t know when you’d be back—or if you would at all. He told me he was the one writing the articles in the Daily Punctilio. He turned away from me. Then he gave me his handkerchief, and put his hand on mine, and got up and left.

-------

What it feels like, Lemony, is like you

It feels like you picked

It feels like we didn’t matter and

And it’s not like we could ever choose or have one or the other I know I know I know but

We’re never going to be without it but I thought that

WE GOT MARRIED, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, LEMONY SNICKET

You picked an idea of nobility that you spent the past ten years struggling with and denouncing and promising you’d never

It wasn’t like we ever set out to save you anyway I

At the end of the day, that’s it. You picked the organization over us. And I didn’t think we were going to have to draw lines like that. At least not now. At least not right now. Because that means I have to make a decision. Because it means I can’t only think about me. Because it means I can’t keep waiting. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.

-------

I found out the other day.

I had a feeling, though. You just, you either have the feeling or you don’t, right? And I did. And I keep thinking about what your reaction would be. What you’d say. I keep thinking about your eyes, bluer than blue. I keep thinking about the world we said we were going to make when we were kids, the people we said we’d be. We were tiny and young and idealistic and you’re really only that way once in your whole life and when you’re not anymore, you can’t go back.

-------

We can’t go on like this.

stripped off my dress like a skin,

peeled

so you could see everything

not only then,

but always.

didn’t know i was doing it,

guess i never really ran out of clothes.

you took off you shirt

and I was jealous.

you only needed to do it once and there you were.

I thought.

but now I keep finding shirts

in the places where I found you

and I can’t

find anything

that was mine

to put back on

I really can’t do anything

-------

Enclosed you’ll find the ring. I know it’s not just the ring I married you with, but the ring I married Bertrand with, but whenever we look at it we think of you and I’m the one who has to wear it all the time and I can’t.

But I don’t want to give it back because what if it’s the only thing I get to keep of you? But it wasn’t ever mine anyway, or yours, and who knows, maybe Ramona will marry Olivia with it someday, and maybe you’ll be there, only you wouldn’t be if you got the ring back, you’d never show your face again.

And that’s not what I want, I don’t want you out of my life, Lemony, but if I give it back then maybe I do. Maybe that is what I want. Maybe I never want to see you again like this.

-------

Okay, I have to ask. I have to, because Jacques kept his mouth shut about this.

The last time you saw us. Not the day, but the morning, walking out the front door. Did you know you weren’t coming back? You just left like you always did, to go to the newspaper, before Bertrand and I went to the theater, and as far as leaving someone for good goes that’s so

Did you meet up with Jacques, or Hector, or Jo, or even Kit, and did they tell you? Did headquarters address you personally? Did you take an assignment from someone else? Did someone corner you and were you trying to protect us? Was that the only way you could do it, going into hiding and faking your death? Who else was involved, besides Jacques? How long was it going to go on for? Did they expect you to do it by yourself? Did you have a plan, did any of them have a plan? What fragmentary plot was it even a part of? Did you know you weren’t coming back? Could you even come back? Did it even happen right away? Did it start out as some mediocre assignment you were going to tell us about later and then what happened so that I was reading the paper and there you were being accused of things I knew you’d never do? Why didn’t they ask me? Why didn’t they ask Bertrand? Why didn’t they ask us? You knew we’d do it together, we swore we’d do it together, why didn’t you tell us? What made it so that you couldn’t?

Or did you really decide for yourself that that was it?

I don’t want to believe that. I don’t, Lemony. I want to believe that it was one thing and then another but do you know why I can’t, why I keep asking? Do you understand why I need to know the truth? Why I need to be able to put it together? Why waiting and trusting isn’t enough anymore?

--------

No one could ever extinguish my love, Lemony, no one, nothing, not a single solitary thing ever, nothing could do it, but my trust is a different matter. Loving someone and trusting someone are two different things and I know you know that as much as I do. You. Knew. All. Of. This.

-------

You know. If it had ended at the article. I might’ve been okay with it. I might have. Not making any promises, because we both know better than that. But I might’ve. I could’ve.

It didn’t end with the article.

Olivia had a short-lived assignment working the telegrams recently. She gave Ramona a very specific telegram. Olivia was honestly surprised it had come through at all. That something like that would be sent over such an insecure line. And of course she showed Ramona. They didn’t show it to anyone else. Which was lucky, because you know Olivia. She wanted to do whatever she could.

Ramona sent it to me. Right away. I got it yesterday. She said she’d never felt worse in her entire life. She said she was sorry. She’s the only one who didn’t sound patronizing about it.

J.S.,

AS WELL AS CAN BE EXPECTED STOP GOING ON FULL STOP

M.K.

I never liked Monty Kensicle all that much as a name either.

-------

Lemony I can’t help but think that you’re sick of me, sick with me

It wasn’t like I ever—like I did it to be similar, I would NEVER, because both of us had our reasons for why we did what we did, you on that train, me and Bertrand at the opera. We knew what we were doing. Did we regret it? Enough for it to hurt, on the wrong days. Not enough for it to matter, in the long run. But enough for it to stop me every once in a while, in the way I know it stopped you.

But, but did you think, you couldn’t love someone who

Which would be, extraordinarily hypocritical of you, not to mention

I know you still think about it and I know how much it

I paid my price for what I did, Lemony, and so did you, and I didn’t

Is that how it works? Is that what happens? Is this what else I have to give up, for some shred of nobility, is my life going to be one mistake after another because I followed an order and I though they were right enough? Not even right, right enough, how stupid—is everything that happens to me going to be because of that? Am I losing you because it’s what I deserve?

Don’t I deserve good things? Don’t I still deserve happiness, and stability, and love, and a family, and all those things I worked so hard for? Because nobility wasn’t the end of it for me, this was what we wanted, something better, something for us, something we deserved, and this can’t be it, this can’t be the only thing we get for all of that, there has to be something else! And if I lose everyone close to me because of this organization Lemony I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do I feel like I’m going to lose my mind like this

--------

I think of you out there, alone, and probably cold because you never bring a damn jacket with you anywhere. It’s summer but I’m imagining you as being cold, but I think that’s just because it’s sort of what you do when anyone thinks of someone as being anywhere alone.

Or, I’m just—I’m thinking of you out there, alone, for sure. I’m doing that. I’m thinking. About you. Alone.

I’m

thinking.

I think of you. Out there. Letting Jacques know, letting Olivia know, because you had to know who was working the telegram, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent it, I think of you going out of your way to tell your brother and not me and Bertrand and maybe you thought they’d tell me anyway but I had to pull teeth to get it from Jacques and if it had been anyone else! No one but Olivia would have said! You got lucky! But not enough! Because you still didn’t tell us! You went out of your way to not!! You! I think of you! Doing that instead of having the nerve! The decency! To tell us first! You!

How could you

-------

I think of you, out there—hiding in the middle of nowhere with only the occasional newspaper for company, which, let me tell you, Lemony, is a very frustrating existence. You know what? I keep wanting to hope that you are dead because somehow that would make this easier, I can be angry at a dead man. But I can be angry at anyone, can’t I. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. I can be angry.

I want to hope that you never sleep comfortably again. I want to hope that every sea is too uneven and every desert is too hot and every mountain is too cold and everywhere you go it’s too much. I want to hope that you try and come back and see how good and happy Bertrand and I are without you and you have to realize, you really did mess up. I want to hope that your boat goes down in the middle of the ocean and I know for sure! I want to think that you’ll be so miserable without us and it’ll never have been worth it!!

You’re out there, without us. Without me.

I hope it was worth it.

-------

What am I going to do?

I’m not picking. It’s not—I’m not capable of that, picking between you two, and I know you both had this ridiculous fear that I was going to, but I wasn’t, and I’m still not. I am selfish and clingy and I know what I want and I love what I have, and I love both of you and Bertrand loves both of us and I was ready to stake my life on the fact that you loved both of us too.

And I hate that I have to say it! Because I do! Apparently I do have to, Lemony! If it comes down to, who would I rather do this with, who would I raise a family with, who would I trust more than anything, and you made me make this choice, I’m sorry it can’t be the man who ran away from me! And part of me keeps thinking I’m not even me for saying that, I’m not, I’m not the Beatrice that was going to tear a room apart with her bare hands to get what she wanted, who would scale walls and climb buildings and shoot a gun and could ski and fence by fourteen, I’m not, taking risks, I’m not doing whatever I have to, and that everyone who told me Bertrand was boring (because there were people!!!) and safe and uncomplicated was right and that I’m betraying some fundamental aspect of myself by not even trying, and that I’m hurting Bertrand especially for making him a damn pawn in what I think my life is

But it’s not like I never did! It’s not like I didn’t spend years and years of my life trying to be a good person, trying to create the life I wanted, all of this is me, every ugly thought and every bad decision and every unfinished book and every theater script I keep leaving around places and every single page of this as I try to figure out where I want to go from here! And it just comes back to one thing, Lemony, just one thing! That we can’t do this! That I can’t have you in my life like this! That I didn’t believe it would happen but here it is, it’s happening!! I can’t avoid it! You walked away from me and expected me to be okay with it! You expected me to wait! You expected me to do it! You expected EVERYTHING from me and I only have so much to give, I’m only so much, I CAN’T DO EVERYTHING

And do you know what I am? Do you know what I am, really, when I get right down to it?? I am this, this awful woman with blood on my hands asking you for something that even I could never give anybody, not you or Bertrand or myself and I’m so sick of everything, I’m so sick of myself, I hate everyone and myself most of all, for being like this, for turning into this person, I hate hate hate hate hate all of this and how we were raised and what our future is going to be and what I’ve done and what is it going to take, for things to be better, for me to be better, for—what is it going to take, Lemony, for you to walk back through that door again and not do it over and over and over and I can’t keep letting you do this, I can’t, not to me or to Bertrand, I can’t keep hoping you’ll be there when I wake up and I can’t keep dreaming we’re going to die and I can’t keep pretending that anything about us has ever been okay or ever will be okay! Nothing about this is okay and how am I only realizing it now? How long have we been fooling ourselves into thinking that we could do this? How long do I have to be kind about this? How long do I have to play nice about you and this?

I’m UPSET and I’m ALLOWED TO BE and I

don’t

know

can

forgive

you

I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know if I can look at you anymore.

I don’t know.

Do you know how it was, Lemony? It was us first. You and me. From the second we saw each other in that green-walled room, it was you and me. Lemony and Beatrice. Root beer floats and being purposely mysterious to each other when we talked and being too clever. And I thought that meant we could do anything. We could die and I’d be happy because I was with you. As long as I had you.

And then there was Bertrand. And life felt different. Bertrand made it different, Bertrand made life different, he made it worth something else. And the bond that you and I had? Irreplaceable. And what we created with him only made it better. We had room in what we had for something so good. It really was Bertrand. I don’t know what would’ve become of us if it hadn’t been for him. And I saw that in you, too. You thought it too.

That was when I worried. When I started dreaming about terrible things happening to us. To you. I kept running from it because I didn’t know what else to do. I just didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose.

I’m scared to do anything. I’m scared to be wrong. I’m scared to know anything else.

I’m scared to die.

I don’t think you are.

I’m not sorry.

-------

Here are some questions. Here are some facts. Here are some things.

1 – I’m tired.

2 – I can’t even wonder if we should have done things differently anymore, right after that moment we met. In that room, I never imagined any of this.

3 – Sometimes I do think you lied all along. And that’s not a reflection on our associates or anything but just, see question/statement 1.

4 – You had to have thought about what would happen.

5 – How could we have a family like this?

6 – Did you think you could run all your life? Did you think that would work out? That Bertrand and I would be satisfied with that?

7 – Did you want me like that?

8 – What am I supposed to do?

9 – How long did you think we could keep this up?

10 – Was I wrong?

11 – What did you want?

12 – I know you’d thought about what a family with us would look like and I didn’t think you’d let anything stand in the way of that and maybe that was where I was naive.

13 – What would you say if I asked you this in person?

-------

After all this, I—

Bertrand has asked me if I have any spare pens.

-------

Lemony—

A long time ago, I sat in the diner near your apartment. We’d all known each other for a while, and you and Bea were very much together, and I didn’t quite feel like a third wheel anymore but I also didn’t feel like I was a part of everything yet. We were still dancing around each other, and I was doing it truly, incredibly badly.

I was in the habit of meeting Jo on weekends, when we would go over our reports together because we worked in similar places. We’d meet in the diner. I would arrive early and take a seat near the door. It had the best view of your window. You never turned the lights on, but I would look at it and think about you and—I’m completely serious—write the worst poetry ever to exist. You and Bea have always been much better at it. Jo would take it upon herself to help and suddenly they were these grammar-specific poems, which meant I definitely was not going to send them. Jo is many things; Jo is just not particularly a writer of romance.

I never told you or Bea, because it didn’t seem noteworthy, once we were together. But, things happen in your life and you wish you’d been able to say so much more than you did. I wanted to tell you about the face Bea makes when you aren’t there. She bites her lip and frowns around the kitchen when there’s a lull in the conversation in the spots you would usually say something clever. I wanted to tell you how the bed doesn’t feel the same when you aren’t in it. Bea says the wrinkles don’t set the same, and I feel like it’s emptier without you. I wanted to tell you that the hottest summer days—and I feel like there have been an endless amount of them so far this summer, humid and muggy and not the least bit sultry—even they feel cold when we can’t see you. I wanted to tell you that every time I do the laundry, I remember how you can’t fold socks. I wanted to tell you that I’ve stopped folding socks altogether, which has become quite the problem. Bea and I have stacks of socks in the bedroom now, which is just silly. I wanted to tell you that I love watching you put your hat by the door when you come home, resting it on the table as gently as possible, giving such a small gesture has such a big importance.

I took those things for granted. So much of my life, I’ve thought that loving things so fiercely and so determinedly could be enough, and I’ve relied on that love to get me through what we had to do. Even when the three of us weren’t together, I think I would’ve been happy to stay that way, because I could still love both of you regardless, and just that would’ve been enough. Just to be able to love you, and have your companionship. I would have cherished that always.

I’m the one who’s been so lucky, Lemony. When we all got together, I felt like my life began. I felt like you and Bea pulled me along into something beautiful and breathtaking and nothing would ever compare. I felt like it would always be there, for the rest of my life.

And I’m—

I don’t hate you. I could never. You need to know, that no matter what happens, I will never hate you. I can’t promise to not be upset with you, because I am, and a little angry, and a little disappointed, and a lot sad. But I don’t hate you.

You and Bea have such beautiful ways to say things, and I’ve always been so jealous of the way you two write. You told me that both of you were jealous of my tendency to be a little more forthright, at least when I got down to it, because let’s not forget, I did spend two months coming up with nicknames for all of us instead of just telling you how much you meant to me. But I don’t have lengthy or passionate ways to say certain things, is what it is. Actions, definitely. But when I have to say it, it comes out.

I love you.

And I wish you were here.

I never wanted to think about it, I guess. I’ve done a very good job of not thinking of things I didn’t want to think about. We do difficult things and live difficult lives. It takes its toll, and I’ve watched it happen. I thought if I held on tight enough—to you, to Bea, to myself—that we could escape some of it, no matter what we’ve done. And we’ve done a lot. We’ve been kept up in turn by sleepless nights and bad dreams and wondering too much. We’re not going to leave—not for good, and each of us know that—but it could be more manageable, together. We would figure it out, when we needed to. Perhaps I was a bit too optimistic about how well I could do it.

I hate to think it was something we did, or something we didn’t see. I hate to think that you gave up on yourself or on us. I hate to think I didn’t do enough. I know it’s not necessarily anyone’s fault. I know Bea keeps telling me I’m too kind for my own good, and I think it’s because I’m afraid to really feel anything. Feeling it makes it too real, something I have to actually contend with, and I don’t want to. I really don’t.

I want to say—I don’t want to tell you, I just want to say it—that I’m more hurt than I’ve ever been, and I don’t feel like I belong here without you, and that I think, you didn’t want to do it, but you knew what you were doing, and you did it because some things just sound easier, or hurt more but hurt less than others, and that I despise the people that we’ve become. I despise the things that we’ve been made into, and I don’t know how much of it we did to ourselves. I don’t know how much I can change.

I won’t lie, Lemony, because I’ve never been much of a liar. It’s been hard without you. Bea and I haven’t been talking very much, and we get into arguments when we do. We’ve been avoiding each other. It’s hard to avoid someone you live with, for a lot of reasons. But we’ve been managing to do it. I’ve been hiding at the Denouement. Absolutely, definitely hiding. Dewey’s not pleased but he doesn’t say no to the help organizing the archives. Bea’s been going to the theater, even though she’s technically off-duty for the next seven months (it was self-imposed off-duty, which I’ll admit was surprising). When we do talk to each other, Bea has a tendency to raise her voice, which I don’t mind, necessarily, because I understand why she keeps doing it. I have a tendency of late to do the same, which I’m not proud of. Taking it out on each other isn’t good or responsible of us, but it’s where we are right now. It is a miserable place to be.

Bea assumes I’m upset with her, but I’m not. I’m upset with myself, mostly. I keep thinking that none of this would have happened if I wasn’t here, that I made things worse. If you and Bea had just gone on by yourselves, maybe there would be so much less unhappiness. Maybe I was what made it hard for you to stay. Maybe I pressured you, maybe I pressured myself. Maybe this is my lot in life. They’re awful things to think, but I’m thinking them. That’s what people do, when upsetting things happen. We try to figure out where we went wrong. We don’t come up with any answers, but it’s better than sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, which we do enough of too. I know eventually we’ll stop hurting each other, Bea and I. It just feels a long way away right now. A lot of things feel that way. You, myself, my friends, anything I thought I knew or had.

I’m being very unkind, to myself. That’s not your fault. It’s just something I’m realizing now. I’ve spent a lot of my life being unkind to myself. I don’t know how not to be. There are many things I don’t believe that I deserve, a sentiment I know you understand. It’s hard to feel like we deserve anything, even what we love. The more I think about it, the more I think, maybe that was why. And that breaks my heart and scares me so much, Lemony, that we—you—are capable of feeling such sadness.

Honestly, part of me wants to keep waiting. The part of me that is a fairly patient person is probably willing to do so. But the other part of me that is less patient and a husband to both of you is the part that hurts, and the part that reminds me that I am allowed to say that there is only so much I can take. I want you here more than anything, but I know for sure none of this is ever going to be that simple again.

But going forward from this, I want to feel like I deserve things. There’s only so much time I can spend regretting, or hating myself, or wishing that I had done something different. It’s easy to get caught up in all of that, and I think I still will be, for a while. I think I’m going to keep thinking miserable things for some time to come. But on the other side of that is something else. Not necessarily a happiness, or a satisfaction, but a certain kind of existence. Or, I guess, a kindness.

I love you very much, Lemony, and I can’t imagine doing this without you. I still don’t want to.

But if you have to—Bea and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll still be here. I can’t promise in what way, but we’ll be here, if or when or anything at all. I hope you can meet us in that something else one day.

Until then, with all my love,

I wish you bluebirds in the spring,

to give your heart a song to sing,

and then a kiss, but more than this,

I wish you love.

And in July, a lemonade

to cool you in some leafy glade,

I wish you health,

and more than wealth,

I wish you love.

My breaking heart and I agree

that you and I could never be,

so with my best,

my very best,

I set you free.

I wish you shelter from the storm,

a cozy fire to keep you warm,

but most of all,

when snowflakes fall,

I wish you love.

Bertrand

face the sun

in the night,

find it in the night

in the pieces,

dig for it,

dig it out with my hands alone.

yes.

what I left –

fragments,

every last eye,

unwelcome.

piling it back in.

new sunlight.

-------

So—the sad truth is that the truth is sad. The real truth is that I never wanted to believe you were right about that. I thought I could get by on good looks and sheer force and well-hidden optimism and believing I was right. I was wrong. We were all wrong, some of us more wrong than others.

Where you went wrong is thinking that we—that I—would be okay with this. And that was where I went wrong too, I admit. The blame could be with all of us.

What I do know is that we can’t be together like this. Not like this. This is where it ends.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. I don’t know what Bertrand and I will do. And the two of us—Bertrand and I—can figure that out. In whatever way that is. Whatever you’re doing, I leave you to it.

You will—always, always, always—be (somewhere) in my mind, and (deep) in my heart, and wherever (wherever.) (parenthetical required.) you are. Be it a boat, or a cave, or the city, or a grave, true or false. That’s the way you want it. That’s the way I will accept it. Good luck.

Beatrice

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events

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