#ward is like ''reminds me of good old times''

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 17: Catching up

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Send some love to @lovelivingmydreams who's written this wonderful story!

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“Should we catch mister Remus up on what happened the past fifty years?” Patton wondered as they walked towards the nearest village.

Remus had reluctantly accepted a cloak from Virgil to hide his altered form from the villagers.

“Oh Virgin told me everything already. Gussy got a promotion. All it took was every other great mage and above to kick the bucket. Except the high mages probably aren’t actually dead. The great mages… I saw some of them before I got locked up. They looked very dead,” Remus stated casually. “We’d all be stuck where we were if you three didn’t want to play hero and go snoop in a missing mage’s tower. That’s gutsy I’ll give you that. And that’s where you found Virgin in a box!”

“Stop calling him that,” Roman insisted, feeling Virgil’s annoyance at that nickname.

Remus turned to him with a smirk. “When he gets some I’ll stop calling him that,” he promised.

That… Confused Roman. Virgil had boyfriends before. Many from the sound of it. He didn’t think Virgil would be inexperienced… Virgil seemed amused by that statement, so he probably wasn’t.

Not something Roman wanted to be thinking about too much actually.

“Didn’t…” Patton started, but Virgil interrupted him.

“Anyway. My love life aside. There is a chance that there are some allies around who will help us no questions asked. Thomas is king, I don’t worry about him. It’s the council I am not sure about and I’d rather have the gang complete and agree on our story to keep these three out of trouble on the off chance this whole thing goes belly up,” Virgil explained, indicating Roman and his friends.

Roman was about to interject, but Remus interrupted him.

“So we gotta nap,” he said, clearly annoyed by that part of the plan. “Eat, and then go find Janni without any clue where to find him?” he surmised.

“Well, we have some clue. We have an area within which we need to search. We can start from the center and then go from there. Which just so happens to be… Here,” Virgil announced as they came upon the village.

“Oooh, I remember this one!” Remus cackled. “Didn’t you have a cult here for a while?” he wondered.

“Not a cult. Just…” Virgil tried to correct.

“Dude they had tattoos. It was a cult,” Remus grinned.

Virgil sighed. “You stop one forest fire,” he muttered.

“How long is ‘a while’?” Logan wondered. Which was fair. A while for them might mean something entirely different to them than to the centuries old mages.

“A decade or two,” Virgil admitted.

“Dude, babies were born and raised on the idea that you were an actual god,” Remus chuckled.

“It was a very isolated town back then. Not many travelers going through, let alone mages. Few even knew it was there,” Virgil explained.

“And worrywart Virgin kept tabs on those wittle settlements like a good wittle high mage,” Remus teased.

“I wasn’t the only one,” Virgil pointed out. “You are more of an outlier than me in that regard.”

Remus shrugged. “Anyway, Virgie finally had enough of the worship every time he checked up on the wards and asked me for help setting things straight. I’m pretty sure they still thought we were something divine for a good while after that… I think that kid… Damian?” Remus mused.

Virgil nodded. “Once Damian was found to be gifted and he went to school, he managed to convince his family and neighbors that magic, while powerful, is not an indication of the divine,” he recalled. They made their way to one of the larger buildings. Not the inn though. “Ever since, I’ve been treated as a welcome guest,” Virgil mused.

“And I as a scary reminder to treat you as a person,” Remus grinned, elbowing his friend in the side.

Virgil chuckled and knocked on the door. “Here’s hoping for allies,” he mused.

Not much later, a woman in her early twenties opened the door.

Virgil relaxed. "Daughter of James, son of Adam?" he guessed, pulling his hood back just a bit.

The woman gasped. “You are here,” she breathed as she ushered them inside.

"Grandfather will be thrilled," she said in an excited tone as she led him onward to the living room where an elderly man in his seventies was seated along with a man in his late forties or early fifties. They both rose from their seats, the eldest a bit less fluently.

"Please, stay seated," Virgil bid, making the eldest gasp. "Virgil... it really is you," he whispered. Virgil pulled back his cloak, revealing his cursed appearance, the man seemed unphased.

"Hey, Adam. You look good," he smiled fondly.

"No need to lie," Adam chuckled, tears welling up in his eyes. "When we got the message... I didn't think I'd see you this soon. But I came here because I knew that if you did end up in the area, this was where you'd look for aid," he explained shakily. Virgil gently guided him back to his seat. "Well, I found Remus in the area, so I couldn't just pass you by. What message, though?" Virgil wondered. Adam pointed at the table. A messaging stone.

"The phoenix has risen," Adam said weightily. "That was the message," he said. Then he took in Roman and his friends. "Are we all allies of the high Mage?" he asked firmly.

"They are good, Adam. Man, you got serious while I was away. I remember you being much more fun," Virgil chided playfully.

Adam smiled fondly at him. "Well, what I am about to reveal could put my family and our allies at risk, so I have to be cautious,” he offered apologetically. “We are the guardians of the Phoenix secret. We shared information on your last years and those of other high mages that kept in contact with the common folk,” he explained. Then he leaned forward, looking Virgil in the eye. “There are wizards and mages the council has no knowledge about. No one knew what the ritual that would allow them to become great mages entailed exactly I'm afraid. And we didn't stumble upon it while we tried to educate free thinking magic wielders as we'd hoped. But still, you'll have plenty of students of varying ages eager for some more guidance. Many of them have lost a loved one to the plague and did not accept the official explanation for their passing. They eagerly await word from you," Adam explained.

Virgil chuckled. "I should have known you'd keep your trouble maker tendencies even after taking over as caretaker of the town," he mused.

"But it's good to know there will be mages around to help guide the official magic community." The cursed high mage decided. "I'll help them as soon as we know what happened to the other high mages. We already found the smoldering heart and the frozen tempest. I'm sure there will be more returning to help soon," he promised.

"How can we help?" The other man, James probably, wondered eagerly.

"We could use someplace to rest for an hour. Food. And information. Anything about where Janus silver tongue was last seen or anything about a basilisk in the area," Virgil summarized.

"We won’t need a big room," Remus assured them as he pulled a flustered Patton closer by the waist.

"I'll fit this one in my lap," he mused. To which Patton made a high pitched squeak.

"Don't make him uncomfortable Remus,” Virgil warned.

Remus let go of Patton. "Came Vigini!" He whined petulantly. Roman was at a complete loss as to what he just said. And then Virgil responded in kind.

Roman was pretty sure no one in the room knew what the heck they were saying.

Remus seemed to be on the defensive and Virgil seemed both skeptical and intrigued.

Roman felt a nudge. He looked beside him and saw that his friends were looking at him expectantly.

“What?” he whispered.

“What are they saying?” Logan asked, rolling his eyes as though that was obvious.

“I can’t read his mind. I need some more context and even then it’s an educated guest. Remus is trying to convince Virgil of something. Virgil is not impressed. That’s all I got,” he whispered back.

“Got on what?” Remus asked curiously. Roman glared at him, not willing to say anything if Virgil hadn’t.

“Oh, Roman and Virgil have a magic bond and they have this cool thing where they talk without talking now,” Patton summarized helpfully, glad that he wasn’t the topic anymore Roman assumed.

“Really?” Remus said intrigued.

“It was an accident,” Roman insisted. “When we found Virgil’s ashes I didn’t expect to be touching human remains, I panicked and tried a cleansing spell and then Virgil started to reform and my magic mixed with his and now here we are,” Roman insisted.

“It is probably for the best that it did happen though,” Logan pointed out. “We would likely not have been so quick to trust Virgil had it not been for Roman being so connected to Virgil’s emotions,” he pointed out.

“I might not have stuck around you guys for longer than necessary to grab some supplies and hand you a favor before getting home if I hadn’t felt your shock and worry. It alerted me that something was off and made me more cautious. Slowing down, as frustrating as it was at the time, probably was beneficial to preparing and planning the rescue mission,” Virgil admitted.

“Well, good that things turned out how they did,” the woman who’d initially opened the door for them said.

“My brother and his wife run the inn. They’ll have some space to spare and the resources to cook you a proper meal,” she offered.

“Thank you,” Virgil smiled before turning to Adam. “We’ll be on the move as soon as we have somewhere to go, but I’ll be back to catch up once things have settled,” he promised.

Adam nodded gratefully.

Logan offered their hostess the map. “The yellow circle is the area within which the high mage Janus should be found. This should help you in gathering relevant information,” he stated.

The woman nodded and then took them to a different building.

As they were guided outside, Roman gently touched Virgil's arm with his own to get his attention but not be noticed by someone else, specifically Remus.

Virgil glanced towards him, picking up on his attempt to be subtle.

Roman looked back at the house where the two elder men were watching them go to wave at them and then turned to Virgil curiously, already having his suspicions. Virgil smiled, fond accusation in his eyes. Roman turned away from him, embarrassed. Virgil subtly nudged him in comfort. Glanced back and showed his nostalgic affection for the young man Adam was when they knew one another. Then he looked at Roman, flooding him with the inferno of affection, completely consuming the embers of what remained of whatever once existed between him and Adam.

Roman felt a little silly for being jealous of an elderly person. But Virgil didn't seem to fault him for that.

"You weren't kidding. This is gonna be fun," Remus chuckled. Great. So he did catch on.

“Drop it Remus,” Virgil sighed.

“Aw come on V. You haven’t had a magic bond since school. It’s a little intriguing,” Remus shrugged.

“That you know off,” Virgil stated, making Remus gasp offended. “You bonded with someone other than me or J on purpose?” he asked. Virgil just smirked and walked on. Though Roman could tell he hadn’t just made that up to rile Remus up.

He wondered who he’d chosen to bond with.

"Jessica! Peter! Guests for Grandfather. They need rooms and a meal!" Their guide called out they entered the Inn. Behind the bar stood a young couple looking surprised at their arrival. Middle of the day was not exactly rush hour.

"We don't need to use the beds, and we only need the space for an hour," Virgil promised gently. His hood once again securely over his head. "And we got gold to pay," Remus added.

"Um. Well, the rooms are just cleaned out and I don't expect anyone till dinner. So uh... how many rooms?

"A single one if there is enough space for all of us to sit comfortably," Virgil offered. Tossing Remus a warning glance to which the high mage pouted.

Jessica nodded, grabbed a key, and led the way.

"Here you go. I'll have a stew and some bread ready when you get back," she offered as she opened the door for them and handed Virgil the key.

"Thank you," he bid before closing the door and turning to the group.

"Everyone knows the drill. Roman I want to try and see if I can teach you a few things about being a phoenix high Mage while resting. Are you okay with that?" Virgil asked.

Roman frowned, pretending to be confused for a moment before coming to a realization. "Like how you showed us your memory for clues," he guessed so no one would know there'd been a much more recent experience for Roman.

Virgil nodded though his emotions searched for confirmation. He wanted to know if Roman wanted it to be like last night or like the first time.

Roman pressed on with confidence, indicating his desire for them to be one again.

"Ooh first a magic bond, now sharing a dream? Virgil you always had favorites, but you're never so obvious about it," Remus teased.

"Shut it Remus," Virgil warned as he locked the door so they wouldn't be interrupted.

"I'm being serious!" Remus insisted, throwing an arm around Roman's shoulder. "Seriously, seriously though," he whispered in Roman's ear. "He is thick as a rock when it comes to guys liking him." Roman doubted that but Remus' ignorance seemed to be a source of amusement for Virgil so he didn’t correct him.

"But I'm pretty confident he likes you. So when you make your move, lay it on thick," he advised. Roman was taken aback. He hadn't expected to get Remus' approval. Not that he'd wanted it. Virgil's as the only approval that mattered.

Still. He appreciated the gesture, even if he was not going to admit that.

"Get of me," he huffed as he broke from his maybe great something uncle's grip. “I think I am currently a bit more aware of what he does and does not feel than you,” he pointed out dismissively before turning to Virgil.

"I'd love that. Thank you," he told Virgil. He could hear Remus sigh defeated. Thinking he'd failed to be a good guide for his 'nephew' probably.

"Alright. Come sit with me. We have an hour," Virgil reminded him. Roman nodded and joined Virgil, where he sat on the floor. They sat themselves back to back.

"Wanna cuddle?" Remus suggested to someone. Probably Patton. "No, thank you," Patton squeaked.

"Great, now there's four," Logan muttered. And then it went quiet, and Roman could focus.

He was five and looked up at his grandfather with big eyes. Under the wonder and excitement there was surprise that was not his own.

"Roman, my boy. I will tell you the tale of the birth of the marvelous town me, my father and your father grew up in," his grandfather said weightily. “It was my father’s first memory. They traveled through an icy storm to find a new home to live with his parents and everyone from their former village. A band of rogues with terrible magic means had ransacked their village, poisoned their lands.” Roman could vividly imagine it, though he hadn’t at the time. Those bands of rogue wizards specializing in weather magic, turning it against the kingdom to send everyone in disarray.

“And no aid was coming for them, so they packed up and tried their luck elsewhere.

They were forced to travel under terrible circumstances Roman, but they had to find shelter. So, they braved the storm,” grandfather said dramatically putting his grandchild on the edge of his seat. “And finally, the gods heard their prayers for mercy and the storm died down. Just as they found themselves in a valley near a forest, a river between them and predators, but not impossible for humans to cross so they could hunt for food in the forest. They stood a chance at survival.

But my father didn’t remember that day because of the storm or the miraculous appearance of the perfect valley to live in.” Grandfather leaned in closer. “Not even for the white-blue feline monsters that emerged from the forest, jumping over the river with ease, just as they had settled in.” Roman gasped in shock.

“No. He remember it for what happened right after his father covered his fear frozen body with his own. Through his embrace he saw a bird, black as night swoop in between them and the advancing monsters. They cowered away just as the majestic creature lit up in purple flames and turned into a man. With a mere gesture of his hand he sent the monsters back to the forest. He stood there a moment, light pouring from him and encircling what would become our town,” grandfather said. “And then he turned and knelt down to meet my father’s gaze. And you know what he told him Roman?” Roman shook his head, entirely enraptured.

“He told him that he’d sorted out the issues with the neighbors and that they should have pleasant weather for a long while. And they did. And we do. Only gentle snowfall and regular showers to water our crops, a rare late night thunderstorm to enjoy from the safety of our homes. It was, and still is, a magnificent place to live,” grandfather said wisely.

“I suppose that is a no to moving with us?” Roman’s father said from behind him. The memory shifted.

He was sat in his dorm room reading a bundle of poems.

"Roman," Logan's voice called. "Will you please put that down? This is important," he insisted.

"I'm not slacking," Roman insisted. "These are written before the plague and honor the great mages of that time. Uncensored " Roman pointed out.

"Really?" Patton gasped. Nervous and excited at the same time.

Logan was silent. Craving the hidden knowledge, but also well aware that if the Council knew about this book, they'd probably ban it. It had likely been overlooked due to it being poetry. They weren't supposed to learn anything about the magic of that time if it was not vetted and deemed safe by the arch mage...

"Listen to this," Roman said, encouraged by the fact that no one was stopping him. "The flame of night, endlessly bright upon the crowd. The sky had fallen, the stars were enraged, yet it did not phase the mage of night. And thus he tamed the blazing stars, docile the hellhound laid at his feet,” Roman cited gently.

“Wow… That’s kind of cool,” Patton breathed.

Logan hummed, not wanting to admit that he agreed.

“Too bad that such magics led to a plague,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but still… I wonder what it was like, to live like that. Not having to worry that you offended Her,” Roman mused.

They didn’t mention the goddess of magic out loud when they could help it. His friends knew which ‘Her’ he meant.

“We will likely never know…” Logan sighed, also not happy with having their magic so limited.

“In any case, I found something… Peculiar,” the diviner of their group stated, shifting topic.

“What’s that?” Roman asked.

“The arch mage. There is nothing to find about his death. Not the date, not the cause. Not even that he died. His death should have been a state affair. But there was no mention of it made ever. He just seems to, disappear,” he informed them.

“Wait… He might not be dead?” Patton asked confused. They’d all assumed he was dead. But Logan was right there should’ve been some sort of record for that. If there wasn’t then that meant…

“Who is searching for him?” Roman asked.

“I don’t know, but they aren’t successful, clearly,” he stated.

Roman grinned, he knew that glint in his friend’s eye. That was the same look he’d had when they made their pact to become mages.

“What do you say we offer some help?” Logan suggested.

“How?” Patton wondered.

“I have been doing some research, there is a ritual that can elevate us beyond ordinary mages. It is difficult and dangerous, as we have to connect with the very fabric of magic on a deeper level. Being rejected is extremely likely, and who knows what might happen if we are. But with ample preparation, I believe we might succeed,” he announced.

Roman looked to Patton and then to Logan. They were once again on the same page. They’d take on this challenge together.

Roman let go of his hold of the past and felt himself be gently pulled in another direction.

He was lying in a field under a starlit sky. Minding his breath. Stardust next to him. Staring up at the endless void of dark and light.

"What are you doing?"

His concentration broken, he glanced at the boy who'd managed to settle at his side without him noticing.

He looked back up to the stars. "I am trying to commune with Magic," he explained.

The young man gasped. "You can do that!?" he whispered incredulously.

"Sort off," he said. "It takes a lot of focus though," he explained.

"What are you saying to her?" His student wondered.

He was silent and looked at the 14 year old. He didn't need to know about his suspicions. "I asked for some guidance," he said simply.

That got him a long moment of silence.

"Why did she make you a phoenix and not a dragon?" The teenager asked suddenly.

"Because I'm not a dragon. I'd be a terrible king," he stated.

"You're a great teacher," the young man countered. He chuckled. "I'm alright, I suppose," he allowed. "I wouldn't give it up for the world," he mused. The young man nodded in understanding.

"Want to comune with me?" He offered. In answer his student laid down next to him.

He blinked and he was in a hallway looking at his student. Now a young adult. He was eying the doors nervously. It was a different room, a different building and a different city. But it had the same design and the same function as the one he’d entered for his ascension.

"You will be fine. I'll be here when you get back," he promised.

"Thank you," his pupil said. "For sneaking me in here," he added.

"No problem. I wish I'd gone behind everyone's back when I became a great mage. I hated the whole circus," he admitted, making a face. His student laughed. "Well, see you later," the young mage bid before walking in and closing the doors.

He took a deep breath and held out his hands, a little pouch with herbs on his wrist. He had prepared the room. Now, he just had to activate the bubble. The guide would break the circle when it was time.

A bright flash, a gust of wind blew the doors open, and he stared wide-eyed at the silhouette of a dragon in the smoke. Then he blinked, and it was all back to normal.

His protege standing in the center, shaking. He rushed forward and embraced him. "I've got you," he promised.

"Did you know?" The young man whimpered into his shoulder.

"I had suspicions. I didn’t want that burden to be put upon you any sooner than necessary. No one has to know until you are ready," he promised.

"But the people..." the future king protested.

"Are well looked after by all of us," he assured him. "You don't need to take the crown until you are ready," he swore.

He felt the embrace tighten.

And then he was in the forest in his phoenix form his student stood before him holding one of his feathers, focusing. And then there was a golden phoenix before him.

"Welcome to flying 101. Your first lesson in preparation of ascending," he announced.

His pupil shook his head disoriented. "The phoenix senses will take some getting used to. Now, shall we?" It took a few tries and some encouragement in the face of defeat, but they took to the sky and the future king was having the time of his life. As they flew all around the lands that would someday become their kingdom, he explained becoming a high mage to him.

"You will no longer be looking up at the stars but feel like you are part of them. Like they are old friends. Magic will bend for you more easily. Like you know it's language. Basically, the same changes after becoming a mage and a great mage. But more extreme. You won't notice right away. Only when using spells at first.

As if you subconsciously give yourself more time to process. It's a lot. But once you get comfortable in your new body, magic will be as natural as breathing." he explained.

"How do I ascend?"

"When you are ready, you focus like you did when you first connected, and this time, you let it consume you. You will not disappear. You will be one with magic. When you are ready to accept that, it will happen as it should."

They flew in silence. "You will be there, right?"

"Until you send me away," he promised. He angled his body to gain altitude above a forest and then he dove down again. Heading straight for a castle. A new castle. One that would survive several centuries of both peace and war. But now it was shiny and new, only a decade old, built as crown jewel of the chosen capitol.

He landed in the courtyard, human once more. His student stood before him, surrounded by curious, confused, mages.

“Do you have it?” the younger mage said nervously.

“All taken care off,” he promised with a bow of his head. “You’ll do great,” he promised before walking back to give the soon to be high mage his space.

The young almost king took a deep breath and in a blaze, spread his wings and took to the sky. Growing bigger and bigger until a fully grown, golden dragon flew loops around the castle, letting out a mighty roar and flying off.

Virgil smirked proudly and conjured a table on which he laid out the newly made golden crown and the ten swords that had left the fire only that morning, enchanted and made ready for their pledge an hour ago.

When the king came back from marking his territory, he would be crowned and nine mages would be chosen as his advisors and confidants. Together the ten of them would reflect the ten main gods. Remus would often be jokingly referred to as the unofficial eleventh representative of eclipse, only showing up when it pleased him.

He looked up and blinked against the sun.

And then he was standing in front of the inn earlier today looking at Roman slowly transforming, before his eyes. His hair growing longer his skin changing color and then suddenly he was blinding to look at, for a moment he thought he saw wings and half expected to see a Pegasus appear. But no. When he could see him again he was a gorgeous white horse with golden eyes, though he could swear there were some red and purple hues in his manes when he moved his head and the light hit it just right.

He blinked and he was flying through the temple. To his horror he saw Roman taunt Remus into attacking him. For a terrifying moment he thought he was watching one of his closest friends torch a man he’d come to care deeply for in a dazzling short amount of time.

But the yellow and green flames Remus produced turned golden and red and even a little purple as they bend around Roman as though protecting, no embracing him.

Roman started glowing himself becoming one with the flames, making it just one whirling storm of fire.

And then it became a silhouette of a phoenix, bursting from the wave of flames with grace and regal purpose. It actually intimidated the chimera for a moment. Then the fire phoenix closed its wings and shrank down, leaving behind a faintly glowing Roman. Who still stood his ground like nothing had happened.

That idiot.

“Hey! Love birds! Wake up!”

[the-faultofdaedalus]

would be really funny to make a relationship chart for all the relationships in aos currently (couple eps into season 3) because its just ward at the center with "hates and wants to kill" lines between him and literally every single other person

[freckleslikestars]

The kids I teach think I’m magic because I have a puzzle ring that falls apart when I take it off but stays together when I wear it. It’s just very sweet.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

under the covers

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, caught, drunk/tipsy sex, unprotected sex

you’re trying to hold in your giggles as rafe pulls you inside, his large hands swallowing your waist, fingers tucking into the small sliver of space between your shorts and shirt to touch your bare skin.

“shh.” rafe tries to quiet you, but he’s smiling too, letting out a small laugh before pressing your lips together in a kiss to hopefully keep both of you quiet.

“c’mon.” you whisper against rafes lips. “take me upstairs.”

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods, hand wrapping around yours. he looks quickly around the corner before tugging you towards the stairs, making your way up as quickly and quietly as you possibly can.

“get in, get in.” rafe whispers as he opens the door to his room. you rush inside, glad that you made it up to his bedroom without being caught, both a little tipsy but not drunk enough to not care about getting caught by rafes family.

you wrap your arms around rafes shoulders as he effortlessly picks you up, carrying you towards his bed, his hands gripping your ass.

“i love this dress.” rafe says when he sits you down, flipping up the bottom of your skirt as you let out a squeal at your underwear being exposed. “shh!” rafe reminds you to be quiet, but his worried face just makes you giggle, hoping the walls are soundproof despite the house being old.

“take your shirt off.” you tell rafe as you reach behind your back to undo the corset-style ties holding your dress tight to your body.

you manage to wiggle out of your dress while rafe unbuttons his shirt, tossing it away to reveal his muscles. you swear every time you see him shirtless he gets more attractive, your hands reaching out to run over his torso, laughing quietly as you poke his nipple.

“stop it, silly girl.” rafe shoves your hands away. 

“let me play with them.” you try to reach up to his chest again. “let me play with them then you can play with mine.”

“fine, for like a second though.” rafe will always indulge you if it gives him the opportunity to play with your tits. 

you reach up, thumbs running over his nipples, pulling your lower lip between your face in concentration.

rafe lets out a quiet moan, his eyes squeezing closed when you flick over the buds. “holy shit, you like this.” you state when you realize that rafes cock is pushing against the fabric of his pants, having hardened quicker than normal.

“shut up.” rafe groans, knowing now that you realize how sensitive his nipples are that you’re never going to leave them alone. “take your bra off.”

“mmm, fine.” you hum, rubbing the pad over your fingers over his nipples one more time before reaching behind your back, tugging your bra off and tossing it away, adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor.

“such pretty tits, baby.” rafe coos, reaching down to cup your chest, his large palms easily holding your heavy breasts.

“gonna come suck on them?” you ask, knowing how much rafe loves to get his mouth on you.

“yeah, lay back.” rafe cocks his head towards the top of the bed, and you quickly scurry to lay yourself against the pillows, adjusting them slightly as rafe tugs his pants off so hes just in his underwear like you are, feeling a bit of relief now that he’s not straining against his zipper.

rafe crawls over your body, pressing his cock into your thigh as he ghosts his lips over your nipple before flicking out his tongue. 

“oh shit.” you moan, one hand fisting in the comforter while the other grabs rafes shoulder, digging your nail slightly into the skin, but rafe loves the pain.

he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth while you moan, trying to keep your voice quiet enough to not wake anyone up. you made the mistake of being too loud one night, thinking since ward and rose were gone that gave you a little more clearance, only for sarah to pound on rafes door and tell him to keep it down.

“so good, baby.” rafe praises you, dragging his mouth over to the other side of your chest, making sure to give both sides equal attention.

you let out a shiver, the cold air combined with the loss of warmth from rafes mouth causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and your nipple to pebble even more.

“are you cold baby?” rafe asks, his voice soft and cooing, so unlike how he speaks to his friends, only allowing this side of himself out for you.

“yeah, need your cock inside me to warm me up.” you giggle, not usually bold enough to dirty talk but the alcohol flowing through you is loosening your tongue.

“of course.” rafe hums like its the obvious answer. he stands off the bed to take off his underwear, his eyes on you as you smirk and raise your legs to pull your own panties off.

you spread your legs to show rafe your pussy, already wet for him in anticipation.

“god, can’t wait to get inside you.” rafe says, taking a moment to tug the comforter from underneath you, crawling onto the bed and draping it over both your bodies. its an uncharacteristically cold night in the outer banks, despite the summer sun warming the air during the day, the winds have brought a chill to the island.

“mmm, very warm now.” you smile, the heat from both of your bodies now trapped.

“still need my cock though?” rafe asks.

“mhm.” you nod quickly. “fuck me, please.” “aww, baby.” rafe laughs, taking your knee and raising it to wrap around his waist, sinking to his elbows as he uses his hand to line his cock up with your entrance. “you never have to beg me.”

rafe pushes his cock in slowly, knowing he can’t go too fast because he didn’t open you up with his fingers or tongue, having to resist your soft moans and whines until he’s fully seated inside.

“god, so good.” you rub your fingers over rafes scalp, taking a breath to relax, allowing your body to release its tension of suddenly having rafes cock pushing against your walls, stretching you open.

“hey, rafe!” the voice calls from outside, making you both pause, realizing at once that the door is unlocked as ward turns the handle, stepping into the room and continuing to speak, “i need you to help out tomor-”

ward suddenly stops speaking, seeing you in bed, trying to hide underneath rafe and the covers while he hovers over top of you, thankfully any nudity being covered from wards eyes.

“rafe.” ward sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “you didn’t tell me you had someone over.” “sorry, dad.” rafe says, straining to not move, his cock still solid inside of you. “y/n is over.” “hi mr. cameron.” you say, wondering if its clear what you are doing with rafe at the moment, hoping ward is just thinking you’re cuddling or something. 

rafes hips suddenly move, making you let out a noise thats a combination of a moan and a gasp. he pulls out almost completely before pressing back inside of you, the movements somewhat slow but still incredibly obvious.

“rafe, stop!” you whisper, cheeks turning red as rafe ignores your plea, continuing to thrust inside of you, despite his father still standing in the doorway.

“jesus christ, rafe.” ward sighs with disappointment. “anyways, i need your help tomorrow so don’t stay up to late… and be safe. use protection.” ward finally leaves, closing the door behind you.

“rafe!” you look up at your boyfriend, reaching to hit his shoulder. “you couldn’t sit still for one fucking minute!” “sorry, baby.” rafe laughs, the alcohol clearly affecting his judgment. “had to move, your pussy is too good.”

“you’re lucky i don’t listen to wards advice and make you use a condom.” you groan, even as your leg tightens around rafes hips, encouraging him to move faster.

“aw, come on baby.” he pouts. “you wouldn’t.”

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[doumadono]

doumaaaa! luv ur writing! could ya make dabi x nurse reader? basically him 'seducing' her or smth?

Warnings: smut w/o plot, semi-public, rough smut, pussy fingering, nurse!reader, Touya being Touya, creampie, dubcon

A/N: this request got the highest number of votes during the Sinful Sunday poll I held. I must admit, the difference between this prompt and the second-highest voted one was incredibly small! Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA & MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital seemed to flicker in time with the steady beeping of monitors. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee that had become your lifeline through the long shifts. 

You were used to the routine, the endless cycle of patients coming and going. But nothing could have prepared you for him.

Dabi. Or rather Todoroki Touya. The infamous villain, arrested after the chaos of the Paranormal Liberation War. His capture had been nothing short of a miracle - or perhaps, a well-calculated move. 

The new burns that marred his body, the very marks of his quirk, had left him in dire need of medical attention. 

And you, as the head nurse of this ward, had been chosen to treat him.

You approached his room with concern. 

The door slid open with a whisper, revealing the man who had caused so much destruction. He lay on the bed, his body a patchwork of scars and fresh bandages. His turquoise eyes, like chips of ice, flicked up to meet yours, assessing and unyielding. Metal restraints bound his wrists and ankles to the bed, a necessary precaution against the notorious villain. “Here to patch me up, nurse?” His voice was rough, a dark rasp that sent shivers down your spine.

You forced a calm smile. “I’m here to make sure you don’t fall apart any more than you already have.”

He chuckled, a low, almost menacing sound. “Good luck with that, bitch.”

Setting your tray of supplies on the table beside the bed, you began your work in silence. 

The burns on his body were severe, some still fresh from recent battles. You carefully removed the old dressings, your fingers gentle yet efficient. Despite your attempts at professionalism, you couldn’t ignore the heat that radiated from him, a constant reminder of the power he wielded.

As you applied a cooling salve to his burns, you felt his gaze on you, intense and unwavering. “What’s your name, nurse?” he asked suddenly.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, tasting the syllables. “A pretty name for a pretty nurse.”

You ignored the flush that crept up your neck, shaking your head slightly. 

He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why so cautious, sweetheart?" Dabi's voice broke through the silence, raspy and teasing, as he watched you with an amused smirk. "Afraid I might bite?"

You met his gaze steadily, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small, resigned grimace. "I'm not afraid of you," you replied, adjusting the flow on his IV. "I'm just being professional. And you called me a bitch moments earlier, so don’t expect me to become more friendly towards you."

Dabi chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Professional, huh? I guess that's a first for me. People usually just want to fix me up quickly and get rid of me."

The casual way he spoke of his own status made you pause. "Everyone deserves proper care," you said, securing the IV line. "No matter who they are."

That seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, he just stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes before he masked it with another smirk. "You’re different, aren’t you? Not scared, not judgmental. Just doing your job."

You shrugged, feeling his intense gaze as you checked his chart. "That's what I'm here for."

He watched your every move, noting the efficiency and confidence with which you worked. It was clear you weren’t easily intimidated - a trait he found both intriguing and useful. “I suppose it’s your job to keep an eye on me too, huh? Make sure I don’t do anything foolish?”

“Something like that,” you admitted, adjusting the monitor beside his bed. 

His heart rate was steady, too steady for someone who should be in pain. Suspicion flickered in your mind.

“It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? A nurse looking after someone who can burn down entire cities.”

“It is,” you agreed quietly, meeting his eyes. “But pain is pain. Healing is healing. It doesn’t choose sides.”

“Philosophical for a nurse,” he chuckled, shifting slightly. His chains rattled, a jarring sound that matched the slight grimace of pain his movements brought.

“You’d be surprised what you learn in this job,” you responded, checking the restraints to ensure they were secure, a mandatory procedure that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

Two nights later, you approached Dabi’s hospital room, a mix of anxiety and anticipation thrumming through your veins. 

The night was quiet, almost oppressively so, the sterile hallways of the hospital washed in the dim glow of emergency lighting, casting long shadows that flickered softly.

The two guards who were always stationed at the door to Dabi's room and had become a constant fixture in the hallway - silent, stoic sentinels in the muted chaos of the hospital, were absent. Their absence was as puzzling as it was alarming. No explanation, no trace of their whereabouts, just an empty space where they should have been standing guard.

As you reached his room, the usual sound of the monitoring machines greeting you was conspicuously absent. A cold wave of unease washed over you. Pushing the door open fully, you stepped inside, your eyes immediately drawn to the bed that had become so familiar over the past few days.

It was empty.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your mind racing to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. The sheets were askew, tossed aside rather than neatly arranged by a nurse. The heart monitor was silent, its screen dark. Most telling of all, the metal chains designed to secure the villain, to prevent exactly this scenario, lay on the floor, melted into twisted, useless strips of metal.

Panic knotted in your stomach as you hurried forward, searching the room for any sign of him. You checked the bathroom, the small closet, even under the bed, though you knew it was futile. 

Dabi was gone. 

There was no sign of struggle, no alarm raised - it was as if he had simply vanished into the night, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of his presence.

Questions raced through your mind. How had he escaped? Did he plan this all along, or was it a spur-of-the-moment decision driven by some unknown factor? 

Suddenly, the light that was pouring into the room was cut off as the door swung shut with a soft, definitive click. 

A brief moment of tense silence ensued, broken only by the familiar sound of a tongue clicking. Then, a characteristic, raspy voice followed, tinged with a teasing undertone, "Well, hi there, little nurse."

Fear gripped you, paralyzing every muscle in your body. You knew well that Dabi was right behind you, yet the terror that washed over you made it impossible to turn around. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart pounding furiously against your chest as seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. 

Then, a confirmation of his presence came - not through words, but through the rough, unmistakable touch of his hands as they settled on your shoulders.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, his voice a blend of malice and allure. “You know, there’s a lot of things I’ve been thinking about doing to make myself feel better,” he murmured, his tone dripping with a dark, seductive edge. His fingers tightened around your wrists, not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his control. “And since you’re the nurse, always so eager to help, you should be willing to assist with my recovery.”

His words were laced with a mocking sneer, yet his touch wandered with a boldness that betrayed his intent. He was provoking you, testing how far he could push before you’d snap or succumb. Dabi’s hand traced a path up your spine, sending shivers through your body despite your resolve. “I can think of a few therapies that might help,” he continued, his voice low and husky, teasingly listing his twisted desires. “Imagine, all the things you could do to ease my pain, to make me feel alive. Wouldn’t that be fulfilling your duty, little nurse?”

Every fiber in your being screamed to pull away, to reclaim your space and autonomy, yet his presence was overwhelming, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“You should thank me,” Dabi chuckled darkly, his lips barely grazing the curve of your ear, sending an involuntary shudder through you. “Most don’t even get the chance to hear my voice. They’re not quick enough. Never as quick as my flames,” he taunted, his tone dripping with mockery.

You gasped. His mockery stung, a stark reminder of the dangerous game that played out between you. “How?” you whispered, barely moving your lips.

Dabi's low laugh resonated close to your ear, a sound that mixed amusement with a sinister edge. “Curious, are we?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I just turned up the heat a bit.” His smirk was palpable in his voice as he recounted his escape with a nonchalance that belied the danger of his actions.

Your heart pounded, the implications of his words sinking in. “And the guards?” you managed to ask, your voice a whisper of sound, betraying your fear.

Dabi’s tone took on a sharper edge, his amusement soaring into something darker. “There was some commotion, some urgent cries over their radios, something about a threat to the hospital staff. They ran off to play heroes.” His hand tightened slightly on your forearm, his fingers pressing into your skin as he leaned closer. “Perfect timing, wouldn’t you say? Gave me just the right moment to melt away those pesky chains and walk right out. It was almost too easy.”

Dabi smoothly spun you around to face him, his movements precise and fluid. Catching your chin between his index finger and thumb, he gently tilted your head up to meet his gaze. The touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of his usual demeanor. "You're quite pretty, you know," Dabi murmured, his eyes scanning your face with an appreciative glint. "Even with those dark circles under your eyes." His thumb brushed lightly under your eye socket, his touch featherlight. "It tells a story, doesn't it? All those long hours spent caring for people like me."

Touya smiled, a wry, knowing smirk that hinted at his awareness of the toll his words took on you. "Working too hard, aren't you?" he mused, his gaze lingering on your face as if committing every detail to memory. "Caring for the broken, the dangerous. It's a heavy burden for such delicate shoulders. But what if I told you I want more than just professional care?"

Gathering every ounce of courage, you met Dabi’s intense gaze. “Please, let me go,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone. I'll keep quiet. You'll have time to get away from here.” 

The plea hung in the air between you, underscored by the palpable tension that seemed to stretch out endlessly. Your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign of compliance or compassion, hoping he would see the sincerity in your offer and realize it was his best chance to escape without further complications.

Dabi chuckled.

You felt a cold wave of fear wash over you, but you refused to let it show. "And I'm not here for your entertainment," you said, your voice steady despite the panic rising within you.

Dabi's laugh echoed through the room, a dark, menacing sound. "Oh, I know that," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you see, I'm not exactly in a position to ask nicely." His hands moved to your waist, pulling you back against him. 

You could feel the heat of his body through your overall, a constant reminder of the power he held. "Let me go," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Dabi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your ear. "But what if I don't want to?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You struggled against his hold, but it was like trying to move a mountain. "Please," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "You don't have to do this."

Dabi's grip loosened, his hands sliding down your arms. "But what if I want to?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. You gasped, your body betraying you as a shiver ran down your spine. "Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He shook his head for no. His hands moved to the buttons of your uniform.

You felt the fabric of your overall give way, the cool air of the room brushing against your exposed skin. Dabi's hands moved to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. His hands were oh so warm...

You gasped.

Dabi's laugh was low and dark. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his fingers continuing their assault on your nipples.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan. "Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Dabi's hands moved to your waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants before tugging them down. "Please what?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You hesitated, your mind racing. You knew you should tell him to stop, but your body had other ideas. "Please, don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dabi's laugh was low and triumphant. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, his hands pulling down your pants.

You felt the cool air of the room brush against your exposed skin, your body trembling with anticipation. 

Dabi's hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you back against him, making you arch your back slightly. 

You could feel his cock, hard and insistent against your ass.

Dabi's hands moved to your thighs, spreading your legs apart. 

You felt his fingers brush against your wetness, a low moan escaping your lips. 

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan.

Dabi's fingers worked fast, pushing the material of your thong aside, and soon they moved inside you, his thumb pressing against your clit. 

You moaned even though you hated yourself for this, your body was trembling with pleasure.

He teased you slowly, his fingers moving in and out, drawing out your moans with every thrust. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. He didn’t stop himself from leaving a hickey here and there.

You arched against him, your body pleading for more. "Please," you gasped again, your voice breaking.

“Hush,” he whispered, licking a trail up the column of your neck. He pumped his long fingers in you, faster and faster, enjoying all of the sounds you made, just for him. Finally, his fingers withdrew, and you felt a momentary loss before his hands gripped your hips, turning you to face him. His eyes burned with an intense heat as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as your arms wrapped around his neck.

You could feel his dick, straining his pants, pressing against your slick, naked pussy, and instinctively, your hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Dabi's left forearm slipped under your ass, easily securing you in place as his other hand joined yours, and together you managed to free him, the hard length of his dick springing free.

With a swift motion, he aligned the tip of his cock with your dripping entrance, and pushed it up so the head went in between your delicious outer labia. Finally, he slowly shoved himself into your dripping vagina. 

As soon as he entered you, your eyes and mouth both opened wide. You looked like you were in disbelief that you were actually doing this. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his rhythm slow yet deliberate. “Gosh…” Your pussy was stretching painfully to accommodate him. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra. You hated yourself for that.

His scarred lips found yours, capturing your moans as his pace quickened, each movement driving you closer to the edge. “Fuck. So fucking tight. I love how wet and tight you are f’me,” he growled, pecking your cheek.

You could feel yourself tightening around his cock, your climax building with every hard thrust he delivered. You gasped against his lips. 

Dabi took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, then suck on your bottom lip, all while completely inside you. He began to bounce you on his cock faster, each upward thrust hitting deeper than before, the tip of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongy spot deep inside you. 

The feeling of being suspended and at his mercy driving you wild. You rolled your hips to meet his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes,” you whined. You were painfully aware you acted like a cheap whore, but you didn’t mind at the time.

The friction between your bodies created a heat that was almost unbearable, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. His warmth of course added to the sensation. And his cock was oh so hot.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "So desperate, so needy. Fucking bitch." He pulled his cock out until only the tip remained between your parted, lower lips, then slammed his hips back against yours, burying himself in your pussy to the hilt of his shaft.

You couldn't respond, your mind lost in the overwhelming sensations. You could only moan, the sound echoing in the room as he continued to bounce you on his cock, the pace quickening. You were trembling in his arms, even though you shouldn’t. Your boobs were swaying forward and backward as he fucked you raw.

“Be fucking quiet, little nurse, or the guards will hear us if they’re back,” he slapped your cheek, and grunted as his balls hit the curve of your ass yet again.

Your bodies made a wet smacking noise each time, and Dabi could see strands of your fluids spider-webbing between your skin each time he pulled away from your heated, dripping core. 

Your tits, still in your bra, pressed firmly against his chest as you leaned into him, already breathless. Your head rolled forward, resting against the crook of his neck where his marred skin was exposed. “Mmmm…. Mmmmm…. I’m gonna… I can’t anymore….” Your pussy clenched around his cock in anticipation, and a growl rose in your throat.

Your needy, seductive voice worked its magic on the scarred man. 

Dabi's head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips as he came, spilling his thick seed deep within you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppier and more frantic. “Fuck, take it, bitch, take it all.” 

With Dabi’s cock nestled within your core, you felt every pulse as he reached his climax. Every pulse and eruption of cum filling your tight pussy sent twin waves of pleasure and a wonderful, comforting warmth through your entire being, and three or four pulses in, you found herself cumming as well, pussy spasming and clenching around Touya’s  cock, milking it of his wonderful, hot cum.

You felt his cum filling you to the brim and beyond, and spilling out of you, dripping to the floor, even though you two were still connected.

Dabi's hands moved to your waist, his fingers gentle as he pulled out of you. He gave himself a few more jerks before grabbing your overall and wiping his flaccid cock in it. After that, he tossed your uniform aside, and improved his pants and belt. Dabi's voice was low and dark as he spoke. "You're quite the little slut, aren't you?"

As you hastily tried to dress, your cheeks burning with a mix of emotions, you muttered, "It was a moment of weakness���" Your gaze drifted nervously toward the door, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment.

Suddenly, Dabi was before you again, his presence imposing. His hand shot out, capturing your cheeks with an intensity that made you wince. He squeezed firmly, his eyes burning into your very soul as he seethed a harsh reminder, "Not a word until five minutes pass. Understand?" The threat in his voice was unmistakable, echoing in the charged air between you.

Releasing your face, he moved swiftly to the window with the fluid grace of a predator. His silhouette framed against the dim light from outside was both menacing and mesmerizing. As he swung one leg over the sill, he paused, turning to fix you with a piercing look. "You'll never be rid of me, not until death takes me." His words hung heavy in the room, a promise or a curse. Then, he jumped out, vanishing into the night like a ghost. 

You stood frozen, the imprint of his fingers still tingling on your skin, his final words echoing in your mind. You waited, counting each second of those five minutes he had demanded. You were scared to see him again, yet part of you wondered, perhaps even hoped, for that very possibility.

[joequiinn]

When the Wolfsbane Blooms | part i | e.m. x reader au

Summary | September 1916. Edward Munson is back in Hawkins after 13 years, returning to live with his uncle who serves as groundskeeper to the Talbot Estate. Upon his return it’s as if nothing has changed... except the Talbot daughter, who wasn’t nearly so striking back when they were children. But a strange danger seems to coincide with Eddie’s arrival, and all it takes is one fateful night to expose him to exactly what this danger is…

Tags & Warnings | 18+, angsty horror romance, fem reader, depictions of violence and death, smut and nsfw themes, reader last name for plot purposes, use of some 3rd person narrative, historical inaccuracies

A.N | Sooo, this was supposed to be a oneshot for Halloween, but the plot got away from me, and now we've got a big fic. Due to the premise and time period, Eddie may be ooc, but I tried my best to make him fit the era, and the vibes are so worth it!

W.C | 10.3k

!! MINORS DNI !!

“The way you walked was thorny…”

August 1900

The Talbot Estate was a wonder in the late summer, its grounds awash with blooming colors of calendulas and borages, of dahlias and cosmos. To you, it seemed the soil was rich with magic and splendor, for how could the hands of man ever maintain something quite so beautiful? It couldn’t be the hard work of the groundskeeper, always watering and weeding, slaving away under the hot sun for the sake of your family’s gardens - no, it was clearly the power of fairies or sprites that grew the flowers so vivid and the trees so high.

Although the extensive gardens were forever stunning, you favored the surrounding fields as your playground instead, the wild and untamed things far more exciting than the lavish flowerbeds and neat rows of vegetables. It was the rolling hills and woodlands of the seemingly endless Talbot Estate where wonder truly lied, although many days you may have been the only one to see it. Surrounded by the tall grass and wildflowers and imposing trees, you were an explorer - not a mere girl of eight, but a true adventurer of the world, awaiting her next great discovery.

When the days were warm and the sun was high, you could always be found skipping over tangling tree roots or lying amongst the wild helenium. And such is where you were found this lovely August afternoon, snuck upon by the groundskeeper's ward, Edward, the only person in the entire world perhaps more rascally than yourself; or so you thought, as your whole world had only ever consisted of your family grounds and the nearby town of Hawkins.

“You’ll be stung to death if you lie here all day.” The boy’s playful words startled you out of your lazy reverie, having been soothed nearly to sleep by the buzzing of insects around your head. He plopped down to sit beside you, his knobby knee bumping your leg with impatient, childish glee. With a smile wide enough to show off your two missing teeth, you sat up eagerly with a stretch of your arms, your dress wrinkled and the hem stained green from the grass; grass so tall you were both hidden from sight, like two predators stalking their prey.

“The bees wouldn’t dare sting me, we’re good friends.” You argued, delighting in the way Edward grinned back at you and your fanciful way of thinking. He made a conspiratory look, that familiar face he always pulled when he was about to share a tall tale - Edward had always been a storyteller, and you the ever attentive listener.

“You think of them as your friends?” He leaned forward, and so you did the same, coming close enough that he could whisper his closely guarded secret, “No, they fool you. Their queen has it out for you, you know, she’s instructed they play nice to lull you into a false sense of security.”

You giggled into your dirt-covered hand, Edward’s eyes twinkling at how easily he could amuse you, “And what does the queen have against me?”

Although he was only nine years old (nearly ten, he had a habit of reminding you recently), Edward had such control of his face that sometimes you thought he was ninety. His expression became gravely serious, he looked around as if fearful the bees may hear the two of you, leaning even closer while cupping his hand around your ear to keep those pesky eavesdroppers from listening.

“She is jealous. You are like Snow White, ‘a thousand times more fair.’”

Your cheeks grew hot, so easily charmed by Edward’s words; you hid behind your hands, smile large and eyes shining. His own ears were pink despite the proud, confident look on his face; you stared at one another, both nearly too embarrassed to speak.

“Eddie, you are a terrible liar.” You said with a grin, nervously picking at the grass by your feet, getting its threads stuck beneath your fingernails.

“Liar?” He questioned mischievously, “But it was no exaggeration.”

You stared at your feet, unable to look him in the eye. You were too young to truly understand the vastness of emotions blooming between you two this past summer, to know exactly the words for why you looked upon this silly boy as if he were the sun. But you were intelligent enough to know that you felt for him differently than you had before, to know that perhaps this was some child-like semblance of puppy love.

You carefully glanced up at him through your lashes, another conspiring look passing between the two of you, “If you’re caught speaking like that, Edward Munson, they may force you to marry me.”

With a charmed smile, Edward shook his head, eyes alight as he stared back at you, “Oh, Ms. Talbot, I don’t think they’ll allow it.”

“Good.” You said defiantly, rising to your feet and dusting off your skirts, useless as it may be. You squinted against the sunlight as you looked across the fields; your family estate in the distance was like a foreboding beacon, one you quickly turned your gaze from, “Marriage wouldn’t suit me, I have the whole world to see, and a husband would simply hold me back.”

Edward stood with you, the breeze ruffling his hair as he stretched his arms up in the air, fingers splaying wide as if he could brush the clouds in the sky, “But do we not have the whole world here at our fingertips already?”

You two shared an innocent smile, and without a word of warning you quickly spun around and began traipsing through the flowers and weeds, happily going along knowing that Edward was sure to follow. His footfall was merely a step behind you, although with his long legs he could very easily surpass you in stride should he choose. But dutifully he allowed you to lead, and so you pumped your arms and legs a little faster.

“And what is here that I can’t find out there?” You questioned eagerly, bursting out of the grassiest part of the field which neighbored a small pond, one of many scattered about the expansive Talbot Estate. Bugs skated across the water’s surface, a bird glided past your head, a frog croaked somewhere from within a log.

“I’d bet there’s acres of this land that you haven’t seen.” Edward challenged, and you wondered if he’d grown taller recently - why did it feel as if you had to crane your head to look at him more than you did yesterday? You crossed your arms with a smart look, suspecting that he knew something that you didn’t, if that mischievous twinkle in his eye was any indicator.

“And you have?”

The excited smile that overtook his entire face was only confirmation that he had something to share, some new discovery that he was certain you’d absolutely delight in, “Do you know there’s a chapel on your family’s grounds?”

You made a curious face, having never heard about it before. Where could it possibly be hiding, and why had you not previously known of it? You shook your head with disbelief, although you were certainly eager for Edward to follow through and reveal this chapel’s secret hiding place to you.

“If we have a chapel, why hasn’t my father ever shown it to me?” You asked defiantly, debating that perhaps Edward was trying to trick you.

He gave the kind of noncommittal shrug that only a child could, his face showing annoyance that you didn’t believe him, “Maybe he doesn’t know either.”

“But he knows everything.” You argued with silly logic, causing Edward to laugh a little. That was the difference between eight years old and nearly ten years old, the difference between wealth and poverty - he’d stopped believing that his father knew everything long ago.

“I’ll show you.” He insisted stubbornly, although the light in his rich brown eyes gave away his excitement. Your own innocent expression grew wide with exhilaration, eager to see this supposed chapel with your own two eyes.

All it took was for you to nod once, and Edward grabbed your hand, running clumsily over rocks and through brush towards the most northern end of the Talbot property. It wasn’t an easy area to trek, less kempt than the rest of the estate, trees growing taller and wider as it edged along the expansive forest. Perhaps that’s why you’d never seen this chapel, as the northern property seemed far and wide, intimidating even the most adventurous of small children.

But with Edward’s companionship, the journey was exciting, full of wonder and endless curiosity. Eventually, you tugged your hand from his own, struggling to keep up with his longer legs, although you didn’t dare stop moving, else you might lose him amongst the brush and trees. You two laughed at nothing, simply happy for each other’s company, running and running for what felt like an eternity.

The roll of hills slowed you down, the tangle of branches caused brief pauses, but eventually Edward came to a stop, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His cheeks were splotchy pink as his chest moved quickly, and you yourself had to sit upon a stump thanks to the burning of your calves. From your vantage point, you looked around, a chapel nowhere in sight, and you very nearly whipped your disappointed gaze onto Edward, to scold him for tricking you like this.

That is, until you finally saw it.

Peaking over bright green leaves, a stone spire just barely protruded, practically lost among the foliage. You gawked while rising back to your feet, both shocked and excited to see that Edward was, in fact, speaking the truth. The two of you shared a look, his face satisfied to be proven right, and you once more smiled from ear to ear before stomping down the hill to find the rest of the building.

The chapel stood derelict and decrepit, clearly forgotten about after what must have been a long time. The bricks were covered in moss and lichen, ivy crawling its way up corners and railings, abandoned birds’ nests littering windowsills and the belfry. Even from here, you could see that parts of the roof had caved in, that pieces of stone had worn away from the hands of time.

But curiously, the flowers appeared well-kept, planted fresh in spite of the chapel’s abandonment. It was a flower you recognized from your books of botany, although you weren’t quite certain yet which plant it was - amongst your books there were many beautifully drawn depictions of purple flowers upon sprawling stalks. What would compel someone to return to this ramshackle structure simply to maintain its blooms, you wondered.

You and Edward shared a look of both fear and excitement - although it was unspoken, you both had the sense that you weren’t supposed to be here, and that sent a buzz through your entire body. There was something daunting about the chapel, perhaps something even dangerous, and yet the thrill of that risk was all too gripping to ignore.

You tried to put on a brave face, even as you reached for Edward’s hand again; you held your chin high as if to hide your nerves, acting as if you grabbed his hand not for your sake, but for his. And he said nothing on the matter, squeezing your fingers in his own for reassurance, the both of you slowly approaching the imposing structure.

Those curious purple flowers kept your attention as you drew closer, the way they were planted all around the edges of the chapel - they were practically four walls of their own, a fence of sorts as if to adorn what was housed inside. Drawing closer, Edward reached his fingertips towards the enchanting petals, but you tugged at his other hand, as if the imminent danger suddenly jogged your little botanist memory.

“They’re poisonous.” The words fell delicately from your lips, Edward giving you a quizzical look as the pair of you stopped. You studied the flowers with trepidation, shrinking away from their reach, “Wolfsbane.”

Of course you should have remembered that sooner - your father had an entire encyclopedia of poisonous plants that you found far more fascinating than all the rest. You’d always had an interest in plantlife, even before you could read, so as you grew your father showed you the corner of the library dedicated to such a subject, allowing you to marvel over the pictures while tripping over the Latin names scrawled upon the pages. That book of poisonous plants was one of your favorites, perhaps because of all the beautiful colors that masked the dangers lying just within - but you were too young to read into the deeper meaning of that.

Edward continued the trek forward, tugging at your hand so that you would follow. When you reached the rotted, termite infested doors, he gave a firm push, but they wouldn’t budge. With a determined furrow of his brow, Edward looked around for another way in, but even the shattered windows were too high for you to safely climb. So, he tried forcing the door again; it was once you began to help that it finally began to scrape along the stone floor, the sound grating to your ears as the two of you huffed with each insistent push.

Finally, there was enough space for the two of you to slink inside, and you shared a daunted look with one another now that the path was clear.

“You go first.” You whispered, and Edward’s eyes widened a little, affronted at your instruction.

“Me?”

“Eddie, please.” You requested, swallowing nervously. You looked around, as if fearful that you’d be caught now that you’d gotten this far into your journey.

Edward sucked in his lips and looked at the gap in the door, into the imposing darkness, debating if it was too late to turn back now. He slowly returned his gaze to you, as if afraid that if he turned his back on the dark, it may swallow him whole.

“Hold my hand.” He requested, and you obliged without question or hesitation. You both pressed your backs to the door, shuffling in one right behind the other, feet carefully gliding as you went together into the foreboding chapel.

Despite the fearful drumming of your heart, you were put at ease by sunlight streaming in through the deteriorated roof and ruined windows. You exhaled deeply, sharing another look with Edward as you unclasped your clammy hands.

“Nothing to be afraid of.” He said with ease, as if to calm the both of you down. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a weak grin before you finally looked around the small chapel around you.

The floor was littered with dust and debris, scattered with feathers and leaves. The pews were in tattered pieces, the podium left abandoned on its side; one iron candelabrum still stood tall, melted wax molded upon its holders, but its brethren had fallen much like everything else. You gasped a little at the sight of bones near your feet, but held in the desire to shout with disgust. But then your eyes caught a dried, coppery trail from the bones to the door just behind you, and your heart rate spiked with puzzled fear.

Edward slowly walked past the shredded, crumbling pews, taking careful steps as he approached what was once the altar; where candles should have rested, instead there were more bones and abandoned bits of nature. But you could tell, even while watching his back, that something peculiar caught his eye, and you bit your lip with hesitation.

“Eddie…?”

He reached out towards the ground beside the altar, the sound of scrapping metal making you cringe as he picked something up. He turned around with the cumbersome material in hand, revealing to you a rusted chain weight down by a shackle. Another pang of panic drummed in your chest, finding this place no longer exciting and worth exploring, but rather ominous and frightening - you were not supposed to be here.

Letting your eyes wander, you realized that wasn’t the only chain, that another could be found just opposite of where Edward stood; he seemed to realize the same thing, looking back at you with alarmed eyes, although this place made the darkness of his eyes unnerving instead of comforting.

“I think there’s a reason your dad never brought you here…” His voice was edgy, face appearing nearly gaunt in the low lighting.

“Maybe he doesn’t know.” You countered, although it was clear that you’d only said that for your own comfort. Something told you that your father was most certainly aware of whatever happened in this chapel, although you weren’t sure how you could tell such a thing. A shiver ran up your spine, a sensation so cold that you wrapped your arms around yourself, nervously digging your fingernails into your skin, “I think we should go.”

Edward nodded even as he continued to look around, as if he couldn’t help his innate curiosity to see more, to understand what secrets lie here on Talbot property - you could see in his face that despite the potential peril, he was desperate to know more.

Behind you, the door abruptly scratched agonizingly along the floor, causing you to scream and Edward to drop the chains with a raucous clang as he shouted. In the same breath, you attempted to run towards Edward while spinning to face the sudden danger, causing yourself to trip and fall to the floor. The palms of your hands scraped across stone and dirt and bone, instantly sore as you scrambled towards the altar on all fours.

But before you could even make it a couple feet, something grabbed the back of your dress and pulled, causing you to shout again; you briefly caught a glimpse of Edward’s face in the chaos, and although there was fear alight in his eyes, it certainly wasn’t the kind of terror that you had expected.

“What in God’s name are you two doing here?” Your father’s distraught voice bellowed in your ear, ringing menacingly off the walls. He forced you to your feet with another strong yank, turning you around to face him; you assumed that his face would be red with anger, that his eyes would be full of rage, that his nostrils would flare with fury. But instead, what you saw was horror.

The chaos of the moment made your head spin, and suddenly tears were pricking at your eyes, lips quivering with shaken breath; you cried even as you tried to fight it, eyes locked with your father’s as his alarm melted into worry.

“We didn’t know--!” You attempted to explain, but your emotions made you stutter and trip over your words, making a hiccup leap from your throat.

Your father’s eyes were so caring and apprehensive as he knelt before you, large hands gently grasping yours for reassurance; but as his gaze looked past your shoulder and towards Edward, who was still frozen with fear at the altar, something changed. There was a darkness that seemed to suddenly shroud his eyes, a cruelty knitting his brows and a foreboding suspicion twisting his face. The expression was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, as if your father was seeing something that you didn’t.

Your father rose to his feet, his posture menacing as outrage overtook his face, “You brought her here!”

He released your hands, pointing an accusatory finger at Edward, whose hands were trembling, face pale with alarm. Your father’s shout caused your blubbering to grow worse, but he stepped around you as if you were forgotten, moving as if he intended on causing harm.

“Do you have any idea what kind of danger is in this place? And you brought her here!?”

You watched the confrontation with absolutely helplessness, feeling terror at the sight of your father acting so savage. Frantically, Edward looked around in search of some means of escape, knowing he didn’t stand a chance trying to run past your father and out the door. Your ears rang, vision blurry from tears, as you prayed that nothing bad would happen to him, that maybe your father would show mercy despite his animal-like aggression.

“I-- I didn’t…” Edward was at a loss for words, far too terrified to defend himself. You saw his eyes flick towards one of the shattered windows, clearly gauging if he could make the climb, if he could make the jump; your father saw this too, taking one large, threatening step in the direction of the window to flex his power over the situation.

“I always knew you were trouble, but I could never see it until now.” Your father insulted through his teeth as if he’d had some kind of revelation, his body tense with anger.

“I’m not--” Edward sounded so weak, so petrified; another hiccup interrupted your crying, a weak sound whining in your throat as if to protest your father’s actions.

“Aren’t you?” Did your father nearly sound amused by that? Why did it seem that his words were laced with a mocking malice, as if there were a smile upon his face?

Despite knowing the odds weren’t in his favor, Edward made an abrupt dash for the broken window, using the pews beneath as leverage to jump up and grab hold of the sill littered with broken stained glass. Your father moved only a second later, ever determined to grab the offensive boy and teach him a lesson.

But by some miracle, Edward managed to climb up despite crying out in pain, glass stabbing into his palms as he yanked himself up and over, the shattered remains of the window ripping his pants as he briefly straddled the sill before dropping out of your sight. Your father was just moments too late, angrily clenching his fist around the air in front of him with an enraged growl.

You stared out the window at the green leaves swaying tranquilly in the wind, as if to contradict what had just happened here; you sighed with relief that Edward managed to get away. Tears continued to stream down your face, but you felt numb, as if all the anxiety and fear had drained you of anything else.

When your father turned back around, his expression was far too calm considering the circumstances of what had just transpired; he took deep breaths through his nose, fighting to compose himself. It almost looked as if shame flashed across his eyes as he looked pitifully down at you, as if he realized that he’d behaved dreadfully, frighteningly, that he’d acting like an animal in front of you.

He approached and scooped you into his arms; despite everything, you still clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder as your crying slowly began to mellow out.

“I’m so sorry, my darling, I’m so sorry…” He repeated the apology over and over and over again as he carefully stepped out of the chapel, mindful of protecting your small body as he moved lightly on his feet. He briskly walked down the uneven cobbled steps and past the blockade of wolfsbane as he comfortingly rubbed your back, his voice attempting to sooth your tears.

Despite their dangerous, poisonous nature, you found comfort in the flowers’ purple-hued petals.

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September 1916

Eddie Munson would never have predicted he’d return to Hawkins one day; a few years ago, he would have bet all the money in the world that he’d never see his hometown again. No, once his father showed up following a five year disappearance, insisting that his young son hit the road with him, little Edward barely looked back. It wasn’t for a hatred of his home, nor for any troubles with his uncle, the man who practically raised him - but it was some youthful whimsy and desire, his childlike need to see what was beyond his front door. He was only twelve when his father returned, and as such he thought there would be great adventures to be had, falling for all the promises of happiness laid at his feet.

Of course, it didn’t take long for trouble to start. It seemed that everywhere Alan and Edward Munson went, bad things followed - an arrest in one city, a get-rich-quick scheme in another, a string of debt so long that they’d never see the end of it. As a boy, Eddie hadn’t quite realized how bad it was; but as the years took their toll, he found himself longing for a way back home.

He missed the cozy little cottage shared with his uncle, the smell of the gardens just yards from their front porch, the joys once shared with the Talbot daughter who he had no right to be friends with. All that time away had nearly caused him to forget his childhood friend, his companion in an otherwise lonely world; but once he began to crave his home in Hawkins, Eddie often found himself reveling in the memories of their days spent together. 

The familiarity and comfort of home had been calling out to Eddie, it had become a beacon of hope as times with his father grew worse and worse, his tolerance for this life wearing thin. So, Eddie came up with a scheme of his own, hiding money in tricky ways because his father knew all the usual tactics, mapping out which city they blew through would make his departure the easiest and the quickest.

Really, he could have left at any time - he was a man now, he no longer had to do as he was told, no longer needed permission before making decisions for himself. But Al was a trickster of a man, so much so that he’d find a way to manipulate his boy into staying simply because Eddie was a valuable asset to him.

They were up in Michigan when Eddie finally made his move as his father slept off his drunken haze in the dingy boarding house they’d taken residence in the past month. Eddie had been writing to Wayne for some weeks now, informing the man of his plan and its progression; although Eddie feared his abandoned uncle would want nothing to do with him, the words of forgiveness in his letters were a reassurance on Eddie’s doubtful heart.

When Eddie and Al first settled in upon their arrival in Michigan, Eddie took what chances he could to call the Talbot Estate, hoping to speak with his uncle in preparation - it was shocking to him when his first call was answered by Magda, the elderly housekeeper who had worked for the family Eddie’s entire life. Again, he felt trepidation, but the woman seemed pleased to hear from him, although once she’d been informed of Eddie’s return, she worried over Sir Talbot’s reaction.

That nearly made Eddie’s heart drop into his stomach, fearful that he wouldn’t be welcomed back simply because of a foolish day from sixteen years ago. As if able to read his mind - which was always a startling trait of Magda’s - she reassured him that she’d discuss the subject with her boss, that she’d put the man’s mind at ease. Of all the staff of the estate, Sir Talbot trusted Magda with his life, and if there was anyone that could change his opinion about a matter, it would certainly be her.

And so with everything set, Eddie left for the train station without a single look back, accepting easily that he’d likely never see his father again.

Once he set foot on the depot platform in Hawkins following a near two-day trip, Eddie was struck by how little his hometown had changed - yes, Hawkins was keeping up with the times as best it could, but it was as if the air felt exactly as it did the day he left in 1903. And as he rode through town alongside a farmer willing to give him a lift, he took in that comforting familiarity of the buildings and the roads and the people who hadn’t seemed to change at all.

As a boy, he hadn’t left the Talbot Estate often - Wayne’s job was sometimes all-consuming, so if Eddie did come into Hawkins proper, it was at the side of one of the maids collecting goods, and eager little Eddie was always first to volunteer his assistance. When Wayne was so busy that he couldn’t keep an eye on his boy, the maids took care of Eddie, giving him tasks to stay occupied, teaching him skills that may or may become handy in the future; if it weren’t for one maid in particular, Eddie probably would have been illiterate for half his life.

The streets of Hawkins seemed fresh with new cobbles, many shops with new coats of paint, and more people seemed to congest every direction that he looked - Eddie knew Hawkins had changed more than he thought, and yet that sense of home made it look exactly as it did thirteen years ago.

The farmer dropped Eddie off outside the tall, rod iron gates of the Talbot Estate, their size far less imposing now that he was no longer a child, although there was always something ominous about this property. It was as if there was a darkness surrounding his childhood home, one that only he could ever see, some mystery that he didn’t have all the clues to.

Eddie had to take a moment to simply stare at the estate - at the mansion sat atop a hill, at the surrounding fields losing their color with the arrival of autumn. He smiled fondly to himself despite the intimidating quality that seemed to hang in the air - this was his home and nothing made him happier than being back here.

With a sigh of anticipation, Eddie hiked his bag back up onto his shoulder and forced open one of the gates, stones crunching underfoot as he began to make the short hike up the property and towards the plot of land dedicated to staff housing. As he followed the twists and turns of the driveway, the mansion grew more imposing, Eddie’s gaze jumping from window to window, wondering if someone was watching him or if that was a silly sensation made up in his head.

The staff homes were all small cottages clustered to the northwest of the property - not a terribly far distance from the front gates, but it felt much farther on foot. Eventually, the top of the roofs came into sight, one chimney lazily blowing smoke; Eddie’s steps grew faster, stride longer, as he all but rushed towards the family front steps of his childhood home.

With it being mid-morning,Wayne was nowhere to be found - considering just how much of the property he maintained, mostly on his own, Eddie could guess at least half a dozen places that his uncle may be right now.

So, he deposited his feeble belongings atop the cot that was waiting for him, and approached the Talbot mansion, suddenly feeling a nervous tightening in his chest as he went - would Sir Talbot still frown upon him as if he were trouble just waiting to happen? Would his daughter shun Eddie due to too many years apart? He had to steady himself as he grew closer, taking deep breaths and reminding himself not to overthink as he rang the doorbell - Magda had assured him things would be fun, and that woman never went back on her words.

The butler who answered was a new face to Eddie, which meant he had to explain himself and his presence - he had hoped that perhaps Murray would still be on staff, as it would have been comforting for familiar faces to be greeting him instead. He was half-tempted to ask for Magda purely to help himself relax, but he thought it best to first reacquaint himself with Sir Talbot, considering that he’d be living on the man’s property once again should all go well.

So, introductions aside, the new butler allowed Eddie entry, instructing him to wait in the front hall before disappearing in the direction of Sir Talbot’s office. The mansion hadn’t changed one bit, the art on the walls the same pieces Eddie had seen dozens of times before, the carpet beneath his feet the exact one that he accidentally tracked mud on when he was first learning how to garden. And yet, the familiarity did not stop the drumming of his heart, the anxious little twitch of his hands - ever since that frightening summer day so many years ago, Eddie had never quite looked upon Sir Lawrence Talbot the same way.

Eddie was eventually escorted to the extravagant office, one of the only rooms in the home he hadn’t seen before; the butler announced his arrival, bowed his head, and briskly left the two men alone. Before Sir Talbot sat a stack of papers that he stared at harshly, but it was evident that his mind was elsewhere; nervously, Eddie assumed the man was simply collecting himself before daring to have this inevitable conversation.

When Sir Talbot finally looked over the frame of his glasses, the look in his eyes was nearly startling to Eddie - there was something unspoken in that stare, some kind of secret in the man’s eyes. Talbot’s demeanor became chilly as he studied Eddie closely, his gaze harsh and cutthroat as he looked the younger man up and down in scrutiny.

Growing nervous, Eddie nodded his head in greeting, hoping that his anxieties were written too plainly across his face, “Sir.”

Silently, Talbot looked him over again, assessing the man who he last saw as a boy. When he finally locked his eyes with Eddie’s again, they were coldly unreadable.

“Edward Munson… how you’ve changed.” Sir Talbot finally spoke, his voice still that same strong timber that it used to be. He rose to his feet, removing his glasses with a faint sigh; Eddie was almost dismayed to see that this man was still just as tall as ever, for he’d led himself to believe that Talbot only seemed tall because all those years ago he was an adolescent.

Keeping his shoulders squared and chin high, Eddie kept his eyes on the older man, who rounded his massive oak desk in a slow approach, Eddie suddenly feeling like prey. Once the two men were standing mere feet across from each other, there was a pause, a tense stillness in the air as Eddie held his breath in anticipation.

Wordlessly, Sir Talbot offered his hand - it was not a warm and welcoming gesture, but Eddie knew better than to turn it down. So, Eddie moved to shake the man’s hand, however, Talbot grabbed him by the wrist and turned his palm to face the ceiling; his grip wasn’t rough, but it was certainly insistent. With a confused look, Eddie watched Talbot’s face - the other man’s eyes studied his skin as if he knew palmistry, as if there was some hidden message in the lines of Eddie’s hand.

Talbot’s sharp eyes met Eddie’s abruptly, and the younger hoped that his face conveyed no fear or trepidation. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at one another, Eddie unable to comprehend what could possibly be going on. But a moment later, Sir Talbot nodded as if in confirmation to himself, and finally pressed his palm into Eddie’s for a firm shake.

“Welcome back.” Talbot’s words were far from warm, but he seemed a touch less guarded. Eager to please, Eddie nodded back in thanks as Talbot took back his hand.

“It is good to be back, sir.” Eddie confirmed with a nod, trying to ignore the trepidation he still felt strong as ever. Again, there was something in the man’s gaze that kept Eddie on edge, something that was simply unnerving, “I informed Magda that I’d be returning, although I couldn’t give her a day.”

Talbot nodded while his eyes moved about his office, as if he didn’t want to be looking at Eddie for longer than he had to; there was tension in his shoulders, “I’d heard your return was inevitable.”

Was Talbot always so short with his words? Eddie couldn’t quite remember. Trying to bolster his confidence, Eddie nodded again and took a deep breath, “I’ve come to you first in hopes of offering my services around the estate - I have no intention of living on your land for free, I am no longer a child.”

“No, you certainly aren’t.” Talbot answered in a slow, biting tone that Eddie couldn’t identify. The elder was gazing out the large window, eyes blindly staring out as if in contemplation, hopefully considering Eddie’s offer. When he looked back at the young man, Talbot had a curious expression across his features, “What skills have you acquired while away?”

Eddie swallowed; although he’d been rehearsing this for half the train ride home, it was still so different to be confronted with the actually conversation, to be confronted with the ever imposing man of the house, “I’m knowledgeable in mechanical and electrical devices; I can do any and all hard labor as need be; I’m well acquainted with motor vehicles, both as a driver and as a repairman.”

That last point seemed to catch Talbot’s interest, and so Eddie paused to allow the man to speak, “Motor vehicles? Well, that is a valuable skill.”

Eddie nodded - as motorcars began to grow in popularity these past few years, he’d been more than aware of what opportunities that may offer. Everyone wanted a car, wanted the fun and the luxury of a motor vehicle over a horse and carriage, and so Eddie had decided a couple years back that he would become an expert as best he could, would gain as much knowledge on this new technology as possible.

Talbot continued, “I will not promise you a job, Mr. Munson, however, my own motor car has been troublesome as of late - should you be able to resolve the problem, you have a job here at Talbot Estate.”

Eddie’s expression brightened, although he didn’t want to look too eager - he didn’t want to get his hopes up now that he was offered this challenge. But he gave a quick nod, already thrilling at the prospect of a potential job here at home.

“I’m more than happy to take a look; I can start right now, if you’d like.”

Sir Talbot’s face was once more curious, intrigued to see what Eddie could do, intrigued to see what kind of man he’d become. Talbot’s eyes narrowed slightly in consideration, before he, too, nodded shortly.

“Very well - have Douglas show you to the garage.” Talbot returned to his chair, although he did not yet take a seat, as if he refused to relax until Eddie was out of the room.

“Thank you, sir.” Eddie dipped his head a little, prepared to take his leave.

“And Munson?”

That serious, intimidating tone made Eddie’s heart skip, “Yes, sir?”

Talbot leveled him with a grave look, eyes fierce as they pierced straight into Eddie’s soul, one last domineering show before they parted ways, “Do behave yourself around my daughter. You hear me?”

Nervously, Eddie nodded, swallowing slightly as a cocktail of apprehension and excitement whirled around in his chest at the mention of the Talbot girl, his long lost friend. How much had she changed? How much had she stayed the same? Eddie was oh-so anxious to know, but now was not the time to get roused about it, “Yes, sir.”

Talbot stared for another long, tense moment before giving a small nod of his own, finally lowering back into his stiff leather chair, eyes returning to the paperwork scattered out in front of him as if it took precedence over the man before him, “You may go.”

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Early afternoon and the sun was high, warm in that cozy way that only seemed to happen in late-September once the season changed. It wasn’t the kind of sweltering warmth felt in the summer months, nor was it laced with the hint of approaching winter winds - it was a stillness, as if everything in the world had come to a pause to enjoy the orange sunlight while it would last.

Eddie had been fussing with Talbot’s motor car for over an hour now, tuning up every little thing just to make sure it was in pristine condition - he had to impress the man, after all, and didn’t want to leave a single stone unturned in his work. The vehicle was a virtually brand-new model, as it was undeniably different from those that Eddie had worked on before. Initially, that made him nervous, made him fearful that he wouldn’t have the right tools or knowledge to make any improvements. But once he began poking around at the motor, it was like an intuitive instinct made this new car make sense, and he became lost in his work.

Between the heat and the effort, Eddie’s body was already sticky with sweat; he’d stripped his coat and his vest and his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt, but it was only temporary relief. His hands were covered in grime, and more than once he swiped at his hair or rubbed sweat from his brow only to curse, knowing that trailing his fingers there would be streaks of oil left behind.

As Eddie grumbled to himself, focusing intently as he knelt beside the engine, the sounds of another car driving up the gravel met his ears, and as it drew closer cheerful voices accompanied it. Perhaps the help returning from town, or a visitor joining Talbot for luncheon; regardless, Eddie kept his head down, nearly done with the task he was doing.

The vehicle came to a grinding stop, although the engine continued running, a blend of voices eagerly overlapping one another, laughter harmonizing in a joyous, youthful way that made Eddie furrow his brow. Reaching a good stopping point, he set down his tool and stood, looking out from the open garage door to assess the visitors to the estate; he reached for a rag, already filthy, and attempted to clean his hands in vain.

The driver was a young man accompanied by three women, all of whom appeared near Eddie in age; a realization struck him in that moment, his heart beating faster as his eyes began to dart from face to face, searching for those ever familiar eyes, that ever comforting smile. The group in the car was chaotic, high energy as they made one another laugh, throwing their arms around with hyperactivity as they continued whatever stories and jokes they’d been telling on the drive up. For a moment, the disarray was distracting, but of course, it should have been obvious which of the three women was the one he was searching for--

The woman in the lilac sundress; purple has always been your favorite color, after all.

Eddie took a sharp breath once he finally had the chance to study you; thirteen years felt like it was melting away in an instant as he took in how you’d changed, how you’d stayed the same.

Your hair was still that same lovely color, especially out here in the sunlight. Your smile was still dazzling, bright enough to light up an entire room, especially now that you’d grown into it. Your body language was still as light and carefree as ever, having not lost any of the joyousness of your youth. Although you were one of three women in the vehicle, you radiated in a way that made you the only person Eddie could see;hHe felt his jaw growing slack as he stared, unable to fight the nervous skipping of his heart, the anxious tingling in his limbs.

You were beautiful, and it very nearly took him aback. It was different from the beauty you had in your youth - when Eddie left, you were only ten and he would’ve deemed you as ‘cute.’ For all of your childhood, he’d heard many people exclaim “she’ll be such a vision one day” or “what a gorgeous lady she’ll become,” but at the time he could not have made such bold predictions.

But now you were a woman, a stunning woman who certainly had no right being so damn lovely to look at. Now, Eddie understood what all those people were talking about when you two were just children, because the proof was right here before him in staggering beauty.

Eddie hadn’t realized he was staring until one of your friends finally noticed him within the shade of the garage, drawing the entire group’s attention. And when you set your sparkling eyes on him, he froze, his tongue heavy with nerves and limbs unable to move. You arched a lovely, curious eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with this man standing in your family’s garage.

As you stood to climb over your friends and out of the vehicle, you curiously eyed this mystery man, wondering if your father had hired more staff or perhaps called for a specialist to deal with his damn car. The man was covered in grease from head to toe, his shoes scuffed and his curly hair becoming unruly from sweat; the buttons of his shirt were undone halfway done his chest, which was heaving from the labor he’d inevitably been hard at doing. Despite the oddness of his attentive staring, you couldn’t help but think that he was certainly an attractive man, whoever the hell he was.

His expression seemed dumbfounded as he stared at you, as if you were some specter that he couldn’t quite make sense of. But there was something about that look that reminded you of someone, that seemed familiar although you couldn’t place why.

Your name being spoken drew your attention, your friends saying their farewells and reminding you about dinner plans you had for tomorrow night; you smiled largely, confirming you wouldn’t forget, as you closed the car door behind you. Billy ripped out of the driveway, just like he always did, far too fond of fast driving and reckless behavior; the speed of the car driving off blew your hair back, the hat securely tied around your neck fluttering in the breeze. Your friends turned in their seats just so they could keep waving goodbye, giggling together as you histrionically waved back for their entertainment.

Once the trio was out of sight - although a dirt cloud was left in their wake - you turned back around, spying the mechanic out of the corner of your eye, seeing the way he sheepishly tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring at you this entire time. It made you smirk just a little, amused by whoever he was, growing yet again curious as to who he could possibly remind you of. Instead of walking to the house, you took leisurely steps towards the open garage, noticing the way the man fumbled with the tool he’d just picked up, which nearly made you giggle.

“Are you here to take that dreaded vehicle off father’s hands?” You questioned with something of a playful tone, clasping your gloved hands behind your back as you continued the stroll up the drive. Amusement flashed across the man’s face as he stared down, aimlessly cleaning the tool with a rag that was filthy; his energy was cautious, and something about that made you want to bring his guard down.

“I couldn’t afford it, miss.” His tone seemed careful as his eyes turned up, mindfully watching your approach. Your lip quirked with curiosity.

“Shame; all week I’ve had to listen to him complain about how burdensome it is.” You came to a pause in the large doorway, studying the man more closely now that you had a better view of him, now that he wasn’t so obscured by shadows.

There was a softness to his features, from the gentle shape of his lips to the curls brushing across his forehead to even the cleanly kept mustache and beard adorning his jaw. His whole aura seemed to radiate with kind easiness, his expressive brows raised with an innocent wonder, as if he was awaiting something in particular.

But those eyes of his, so dark and doe-like, seemed to have an eternal sadness about them, a sadness buried so deep within the bones that it would never quite go away. That struck you as shockingly familiar - those were eyes you’d seen so many times before, eyes you’d known so well once upon a time.

Now, you were the one frozen with surprise, your brow first raising then furrowing, your lips parting slightly with words that never quite came to you. It couldn’t be the boy you once ran through fields with, the boy who always had a story to tell, the boy who had no expectations of you the way the rest of the world had. He was long gone, giving you a rushed and eager farewell as his father insistently tried to drag him away. And yet…

“Eddie?” Your voice came out a soft whisper, his eyes alighting with elation immediately. You saw the exact moment all his trepidation faded away, when his shoulders relaxed and his lips spread into an incredible, gleaming smile. You laughed a little in disbelief, your own face lighting up despite the fact that you still couldn’t quite comprehend it was him; your smile was so wide and fierce across your lips that your cheeks nearly hurt.

Propriety entirely forgotten, you dashed the short distance between you and Eddie, throwing yourself against him so forcefully and quickly enough that he coughed with surprise, your arms winding tightly around his neck as your laughter continued to ring in his ear. For a moment, he didn’t dare move, growing tense against you, as if he was afraid of touching you; but shortly thereafter, he breathed in your scent and snaked his arms around your middle, his palm pressed firmly against your back as he held you close.

“My god, I can’t believe you’re back.” You said gleefully against his ear, pulling back just enough to look at his matured face, your hands coming up to grab his cheeks as you studied him. Your gaze darted with delight over the planes of his face, taking in his familiar eyes, his new beard, the kind smile on his lips; you were practically awestruck at the sight of him, at the sight of how handsome he’d become, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Eddie’s expression softened as his hands reached up to cup yours, slowly removing them from his sweaty cheeks as if fearful the two of you would be caught like this. He looked between your eyes warmly, the smile now a permanent fixture on his face. His tone seemed nearly apologetic as he answered, “I thought the same.”

You gently wrapped your fingers around his, refusing to let go as you dropped your joined hands between you, “What brought you back?”

Your heart drummed a funny tune in your chest as you continued to gaze upon him, enraptured by the shock of your old friend’s return. Eddie paused to consider his words before answering, dipping his head a little as if sheepish, “I was homesick.”

You smiled at the simple answer, squeezing his hands in yours as a little laugh escaped you, “Oh, don’t tell me you missed this dusty old place; what does it have to offer someone who has surely had so many magnificent adventures?”

Eddie looked back at you as if you were a marvel - even after all this time, you’d held onto your sense of wonder, you continued to crave excitement as if it were the air you breathed. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, as if you were still children sharing tales of the far and wide world that lived inside the depths of your minds. It tugged at Eddie’s heartstrings, a sadness creeping into his thoughts - he had spent so many years away, so many years without sharing stories and relishing in the company of one another. As you stood here with him, hand-in-hand, Eddie felt a deep longing, missing you even as you stared right at him.

“The adventures weren’t nearly as magnificent as you’d like to think.” He answered, to which you pulled a displeased face while waving a hand between you two, as if you were shooing away the words he just said like insects.

“Don’t tell me that. Are you not the same boy who always had a story to tell, whether fact or fiction?” You smiled at him fondly, which prompted him to mirror the expression, unable to resist your charm even now; Eddie figured he’d never quite be able to resist you no matter how hard he tried.

He shook his head with a small laugh, looking down at his feet; he noticed in that moment that he’d gotten oil on your pretty dress, but knowing you, you probably didn’t give a damn, “Don’t worry, I will always entertain you with stories, all you need to do is ask.”

You sighed pleasantly, pulling Eddie back into a quick hug simply because you couldn’t contain the joy you felt, “Is that a promise, Edward Munson?”

“Of course it is, Ms. Talbot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a pleasant shiver running up your spine; those pesky feelings that had only started to blossom in your youth were already daring to come back, despite the years apart. You tried not to fall victim to folly, and yet the yearning you once had for the groundskeeper’s boy was coming back with even greater conviction, the flame fanned by the excitement of your unexpected reunion.

And it certainly didn’t help that little Eddie had grown up to be a handsome man, so easy on the eyes that you were already convinced you could stare at him for hours if he’d let you. Hell, you could probably spend days admiring that face without ever growing bored of him.

Your cheeks warmed as a yearning look passed between the two of you, and so you dropped your gaze while taking a step back, meandering around the garage as a means to calm yourself down, to hide the attraction you were oh-so clearly feeling towards him, “Tell me about your travels - tell me about all the places you’ve been.”

As you walked with grace and ease, your moves were almost hypnotic; Eddie cringed at the perfect greasy handprint he’d left on the small of your back, at the swipe of grime that was transferred from his cheek to yours - how he hoped that your father wouldn’t see you like this, or else Eddie would be fresh out of luck in gaining a job here at the estate.

You perched upon a large wooden work bench, fussing with your skirts as they twisted around your feet; you both spotted another spill of oil on the lilac fabric, but you simply made an unconcerned face at it before dropping the folds of fabric from your hands. You directed your attention back to Eddie, raising your brows expectantly as an easy smile graced your lips.

Eddie licked his lips with a grin, shaking his head pleasantly while attempting to focus on all the work still to be done on the car, “I’ve been many places, though none appropriate for a woman like you.”

You scoffed with an amused eye roll, “And when have I ever been held back by what is and is not appropriate for me?”

Eddie faintly laughed, “You never have and you never will.”

You leaned forward while resting your hands atop your knees, a wicked look on your face, “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Sharing a familiar laugh, Eddie began to regale you with tales of getting arrested in New York City and Boston, of stirring up trouble in Virginia and Tennessee. His ability for storytelling had only sharpened after so many years, and you found yourself mesmerized by his way with words, the way his body language always complimented the stories he told.

He spoke of robberies and bar fights, of friends made and friends lost along the way; you were not inclined to believe all the words that left his mouth, but the two of you had always preferred the thrills of a good story to the facts of a boring life. It was like a silent agreement between you two to make a tale interesting, even if that required embellishment.

It was so easy to be with Eddie again, so easy to sit and listen to him talk, to laugh alongside him and share wicked smiles. How could thirteen years have come and gone when this moment felt timeless, as if you were once more four or six or eight years old, hanging onto every single word that left Eddie’s mouth?

He was striking to you, utterly remarkable, the way his stories came to him with such ease even as he fussed with car parts that just wouldn’t work. The way he’d look to you just to see your reaction following a particularly harrowing plot twist made you squirm; the way his grin would spread from ear-to-ear at the sound of your laughter made your cheeks flush with warmth.

Your innocent childhood together was felt heavily as you listened to Eddie’s tales - memories of climbing trees and splashing in puddles ever so vibrant behind your mind’s eyes. There was an anxious thrill in your chest that made this different, however, a swirling sensation in your stomach reminding you that things had changed even as they stayed the same. Each smile Eddie shot you was nearly breathtaking, each cheeky wink like a piercing arrow in your heart. You knew better than to let yourself become excited by him like this, and yet it couldn’t be helped, the fire had started burning the moment you laid eyes upon each other.

Even as you listened and laughed attentively, you tried to tell yourself that this was simply your childhood crush briefly reigniting, that the excitement would die down soon enough and you would simply see each other as friends from the distant past. You knew how your love of stories could tint the way you viewed the world, how the romance novels stacked around your room had always given you a longing for a love like fiction. You couldn’t allow those desires to trick you now, but you couldn’t resist, your entire being reacting to something so simple as Eddie smiling at you with all the softness in the world.

Time had gotten away from you as you sat there enchanted by his stories, and once he’d finally completed his work on that damned motor car, you were surprised by just how much the sun’s position had changed in the sky. You and Eddie shared a look of disbelief as he tidied the tools and put everything back in its place, the both of you clearly having been trapped within a bubble where time didn’t exist. You hopped up eagerly from your seat, exiting the garage alongside Eddie as he looked up at the manor with hesitation.

You grabbed his hand again, to which he met your eyes attentively; You grinned from ear-to-ear, just like you did as a child when you decided the day was still young and there was so much more to be explored, “Walk with me? I’ll show you all the changes your uncle has made to the gardens, they’re magnificent.”

Eddie smiled sadly, which caused you to falter slightly; had you misread something about the past couple of hours? Despite every fiber of his being wanting to cave to your each and every whim, he knew better. He gave a small shake of his head while glancing at your home once more, “I must speak with your father - I can only stay should my work on the car be sufficient. And he’s asked me to… behave myself around you.”

You frowned, your lips forming a beautiful pout as your brows turned down. You were reminded that you were adults now, that neither of you had the freedoms of children. You knew you had to let Eddie go, but how you wished you could simply drag him away to hide in the hedge maze or the woods until all responsibilities and expectations faded away.

Righting your expression, you sighed and nodded with acceptance, locking your eyes firmly with his, “Tonight then. After supper, meet me in the gardens.”

It was a plea, even as you spoke as if it were a command. Eddie inhaled sharply, excited by the suggestion but also terrified that the two of you might be found out - your childhood innocence was gone, and it could cause trouble for you to be found together like that. But that look in your eyes, so fiercely determined, made it impossible for him to deny you; Eddie already knew that, even now, he could never deny you.

“Tonight.” He whispered with a nod, causing you to smile wide. Eagerly, you placed a kiss on the palm of your hand, then pressed it longingly to Eddie’s cheek, causing his eyes to nearly flutter shut; he leaned into the touch with such reverie that it made your heart swell.

“Now go, distract my father so he won’t see me like this.” You instructed with reference to your dress that he had dirtied. Eddie laughed smally with one more nod, stepping away from you as if it were burdensome to do so; he began to round the manor back towards the front doors, pausing once to shoot you a playful look before disappearing beyond a corner.

You waited another few moments before scurrying off towards the kitchen entrance, hoping that Magda could somehow get these grease stains out of your favorite dress.

.

.

[PART TWO] | [MASTERLIST]

addt. A.N | The taglist is open for anyone interested in being notified about updates! I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of this first chapter ♥

taglist | @ali-r3n @chaoticgood-munson @chaptersleftunwritten @daisy-munson @duncanhillscoffeecups

@eddiernunson @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jasminelafleur @lavendermunson @littlexdeaths

@marlena-marlena @mmmunson @skrzydlak @tenthmoon

[dark-fics-4-you]

possible rafe request?! rafes gf makes him mad by being too friendly at an event w wards business partners so he fucks her at the event 😈

Golden Boy

Warnings: domestic violence, noncon, toxic relationship, jealousy,

You chuckled politely, trying not to glare at the thirty-something year old man in front of you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but put a little venom in your reply, “Well, I actually do have plans outside of my boyfriend. I’m going to college right now, and I’m actually in a paid internship that I got before Rafe and I met.”

The somewhat handsome, but definitely too old to be your type, business partner, whose name you had already forgotten, gave you an annoyed look, not expecting you to respond that way to his poorly hidden dig at you not belonging at this event.

It was true, in some ways. You were far from your side of the island, and no matter how much time you put into your make up and hair or the price tags of the many expensive clothes Rafe had bought you, the Kooks could always sniff out the people who grew up with nothing.

Before he could respond though, you heard your name being called from behind. Peering past the man in front of you, you could see your boyfriend waving at you to come over to him.

You didn’t even bother telling the asshole in front of you that you were exiting the conversation, you just did, quickly returning to Rafe’s side.

“Ugh perfect timing, that guy I was just talking to was a total jerk,” you whispered in his ear as you gave him a hug.

“Baby, didn’t I tell you to try to get along with these guys?” He seemed angry and you could tell that this event was already stressing him out a lot. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides and everything about him was somewhat jittery, like he wasn’t in his right mind.

“I mean, you know I need to look good in front of them while my Dad’s watching. It means a lot to him.” You looked into his eyes at his words and noticed two things. One, Rafe said it meant a lot to his dad, but you knew it was more about how how much it meant to him. And two, his pupils were much wider than they should have been.

Rafe had obviously done some coke before tonight, trying to calm his nerves and give him some confidence, but it was only doing the opposite.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you look bad, but I don’t think it’s fair that I can’t defend myself in front of the people here who are looking down on me.” You shot back at him, annoyed for more reasons than one. “I’m being polite to them, but it would probably be easier for me if you were by my side to stop them from being so rude to me.”

You lowered your voice before speaking again, “And also… I don’t think you should be doing so much coke right now.”

Rafe’s burning glare alone was enough to make you regret saying anything, the return of his tight grip on your arm was just a sick formality at this point, reminding you of the previous bruise he had left in that same spot that you had to cover with makeup for this event.

After being with your boyfriend for so long, you knew the lengths he would go to when he felt personally wronged.

You learned very early on that Rafe was never one to hold back on his verbal abuse, and his physical abuse was no different, although he always tried to keep both incredibly private due to the damage that could come to the Cameron name if it ever came out that Ward’s son, the golden boy, was hitting his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, Rafe. I just care for you, that’s all. I promise I’ll be polite to your dad’s friends.” Your meager apology seemed to be good enough for the moment, and your boyfriend gave you a silent nod after staring at you for several unnerving seconds.

“Be polite, don’t share your opinion, and just keep your mouth shut for the most part. Let them talk about themselves, and they’ll probably think it was the best conversation they’ve had all day.” Rafe grumbled, but his mood improved when he tilted your head up, pressing his lips to yours, large hand still resting under your chin. You kissed him back for what you thought was an appropriate amount of time, but when you tried to pull away, he held you in place, tightly wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you to kiss him back.

By the time he released you, you pulled away to see several people staring at the two of you, and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Rafe was always doing things like that in public when he felt like other men were threatening your relationship, he always needed to prove himself and stake his claim on you. Let everyone there know that you belonged to him.

“Remember what I said sweetheart. Just try to act like you belong here.” He smirked at his obvious jab at the very thing you felt the most self conscious about right now, before he calmly turned heel, approaching another group of stuffy, rich assholes across the large room.

Your huff of frustration must have been loud enough to be heard by someone standing near you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

To your surprise, when you turned around you were greeted by a man who looked to be about your age.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He held out his hand, which you grabbed, giving him a firm handshake, just like Rafe had taught you.

“Yes I am, although I’m not quite sure if we have met before?” You lightheartedly responded.

“Ah, my apologies, you haven’t, I’m James, I work with your boyfriend at Cameron Development. He’s honestly a blast,” the man, James apparently, chuckled as he recalled several stories of work assignments with Rafe. This led to the two of you exchanging several funny work and college tales.

Despite never having met James before, you felt an instant chemistry with him, nothing romantic at all, of course, but you found him very easy to talk to, and to your surprise, after glancing at your watch, you realized that the two of you had been chatting for nearly 25 minutes!

At this realization, your blood instantly ran cold. Where was Rafe? Why hadn’t he checked on you? Had he seen you talking to the same guy for nearly half an hour, clearly enjoying yourself the entire conversation?

As if he could tell that you were thinking of him, Rafe suddenly appeared several yards away from where your conversation with James was taking place. There was a scowl on his face, and you could tell by the way he was advancing on you that he was pissed.

“Hey, Y/N, why don’t I give you my number, just so you have it?” James innocently asked, completely unaware of the anxiety coursing through your veins and the fact that your boyfriend was in earshot, pushing through the small crowd behind him to reach you.

Before you could even open your mouth to politely decline, Rafe was speaking for you, “She’s not interested.”

You didn’t have time to say goodbye, because your boyfriend was dragging you away from your new friend, his grip harshly digging in to your bruised arm.

“What the fuck did I tell you, Y/N?” His voice was even and calculated, but he couldn’t hide the rage simmering beneath the surface.

“You told me to-”

“I told you to get along with them, not to try to get into their pants.” Rafe growled, pushing you into the closest room with a door he could find, which happened to be Ward’s office. You landed on the carpeted floor, wincing in pain when your elbow absorbed most of the fall.

“Rafe, I promise, I was just having a good conversation.” Your voice was beginning to waver, the weight of the situation that you had found yourself in was beginning to sink in. “He’s your coworker, is it so wrong that I talked to him?”

“Stop lying! I know what I saw! You would have to be an idiot to not realize that he’s trying to fuck you too.” You would have been worried that someone could hear your boyfriend berating you, had it not been for the music playing throughout the house, and the thick walls of Ward’s study.

You realized how sad it was that you only knew that because Rafe had now loudly hurled insults at you in every room in the house he could at this point.

The blond stalked towards you, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you upright. “I mean, did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice? You think that little of me, Y/N?”

“Rafe no, I-”

You felt the air in your lungs disappear as your head snapped to the side, a sharp pain in your cheek blossoming across the now reddened skin.

“You don’t get to talk back to me right now!” Your boyfriend yelled in your face. You had barely processed his slap when you felt him moving you again, although now you felt much more numb.

Numb to Rafe roughly manhandling you before he bent you over his father’s desk, numb to the feeling of the cold, hard wood on your face as Rafe held you down, numb to the feeling of him pushing your fancy dress up and rudely yanking down your panties before harshly pushing two fingers inside you, and numb to the tears that were now spilling onto Ward’s desk.

“Such a fucking slut! You’re soaked,” he darkly chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his voice. “Is this all for me, or is it for James?” He bitterly wondered aloud, and when you didn’t give him a response fast enough, you cried out at the feeling of him smacking your ass.

“F-for you, Rafe,” you choked out through your tears.

You could hear him removing his belt, the sound of it hitting the floor was enough to trigger your body to begin quaking with fear and anxiety.

“Aw baby,” he cooed, and you flinched when you felt his fingers in your hair, lightly brushing some of it out of your eyes so he could look at you. “Don’t act so scared. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Well, at least, not until after the party’s over.”

His laughter made you feel sick, but even worse was the shock you felt when Rafe spread your pussy and sheathed himself inside of you without warning.

You saw stars for a few moments, the surprise catching you off guard and he was able to slide deeper into your tight walls.

“Rafe!” You gasped, unable to fight back, as your arms were pinned beneath you, and your boyfriend’s large chest prevented you from moving.

His fingers tangled into your hair, gripping a handful tightly as he pushed your face into the desk. His hips were snapping against your ass, fucking you harder whenever you futilely tried to break from his hold.

Every time you tried to escape mentally, to tear yourself from the reality of what your boyfriend was doing to you, he brought you back, snapping his fingers or groaning your name into your ear as he forced himself deeper into your wet cunt.

You were sure that your hips would be bruised from bumping into Ward’s desk as Rafe fucked you against your will. Another reminder of all the lessons he insisted that he had to teach you by force.

Every sharp thrust was a warning that this was him holding back. This was him being nice. And you knew better than to further aggravate Rafe when he was on a power trip.

And that was exactly what this was all about. The power and privilege that Rafe held over you, that he used to hurt you time and time again, without ever facing any real consequences. This was about reminding you that you belonged to him and at the end of the day, Rafe Cameron was untouchable and unstoppable, the Kook King, the golden boy of one of the richest families in the Outer Banks.

“You are my girlfriend, Y/N,” Rafe growled. “It’s time you started fucking acting like it.”

[princessbrunette]

let me rip you out of your comfort zone for a moment.

we all know john b to be the calm, patient, comforting daddy— and we love him that way. he’s our safety, a net that catches you when you fall. but, i would be doing you a disservice if i didn’t remind you of the rare but existing side to him that’s a little rougher. a little scarier. think back to when he snuck into tannyhill to supposedly kill ward, and came into sarah’s room with a gun and got all mean and in her face before dragging her outside. that john b.

think season one john b, pre sarah — a little troublesome, sarcastic, always at parties with a girl hanging off his arm, flirts with you by being a little mean.

so with this version of him in mind, let me introduce you to toxicex!johnb.

he’s always teasing you in public, making little jabs at you for the choices you’ve made, following you around the grocery store to banter with you until you’re pouting (when really, he just wanted to follow you around because he’s still madly in love with you.) leaves you with his own smile each and every time, humming out a “nice to see you, sweetheart.” which makes you roll your eyes and simultaneously wanna fuck him just one more time.

he purposely flirts with girls at parties in your line of vision, but it doesn’t sting too much because his eyes are on you the whole time— wide and puppy like when he sees you all over that kook you’ve been seen hanging with. it just makes him madder at you.

but the ending is inevitable each time, you wind up in tears on the doorstep to the chateau, sniffling about how no one can get you off like he could and you need him to put you in your place. just one more time, you beg— and he smiles all understanding and sweet knowing it won’t be.

“was waiting for you to show up. come on in, sweetheart.”

he knows what you need. he needs to put you in that mushy, brainless spot that no guy knows how to invoke. that’s why he’s got you kneeling between his legs on the couch, giving you soft little slaps to your cheek as you whine like the little puppy dog he remembered you to be.

“yeaaah, that was a good one, wasn’t it? got you good there.” he grins, thumbing at the sore skin. “c’mon, sweet girl. another one. yooou can take it. that’s my big girl.” when he smacks you once more.

the dick is phenomenal, way bigger than anyone else you try to replace him with. he’s even kind enough to let you sleep with him in his bed, just for old time sake — but as soon as you wake up you’re shoving your clothes back on. leaving his sleeping body in the sheets.

if you’d only stayed until he woke up, he would have asked you if you wanted to try things again. oh well, he was certain you’d be back soon.

[jksarchives]

THE SIX STAGES OF A BREAK-UP │04

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; lovers to strangers, angst

➪ WC; 4.6k

✎ series masterlist

4. DEPRESSION

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▍9 YEARS AGO — 13 JUNE 2013

The park was quiet, and its usual daytime bustle was replaced by the serene whisper of a gentle breeze through the trees. The night was deep, almost midnight, and the stars shimmered faintly above despite being obstructed by the forming rain clouds, peeking through the canopy of leaves.

You and Jungkook strolled hand in hand along the dimly lit path, your footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath you. You both knew the dangers of walking in the park at such a late hour, and the countless stories of robberies and mishaps weren’t uncommon.

As youngsters who just graduated high school, you have both been warned countless times by worried parents and teachers about the risks. But tonight, those fears seemed distant, almost forgotten. There was a comforting sense of security that came from being together, a mutual trust that warded off the night’s unpredictability.

You weren’t oblivious to the dangers — you simply chose to trust in each other. The park was yours tonight, a private sanctuary where the outside world and its dangers felt far away.

Your hand fit perfectly in his, a connection as familiar as it was comforting. Every so often as you slowly strolled along the path, you would exchange a glance, a smile, or a soft word, basking in the peace of the moment. The world around you was still, the usual worries of the day melting away into the cool night air.

Jungkook looked at you beside him, his expression a mix of tenderness and concern. Your steps were slow, and though you tried to hide it, he could see the fatigue in your eyes. You had been very sick lately, and it had weighed heavily on his heart.

Breaking the silence, he gently squeezed your hand. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with worry.

You didn’t answer immediately. You looked up at him, your eyes warm but tired. Then you nodded slowly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. You hummed softly in acknowledgment before leaning your head against his shoulder.

As your head came to rest there, he leaned down and placed a soft peck on your head. He felt you relax at his touch, your breathing steady but weak.

For a moment, you both simply walked in silence, savoring the comfort of each other's presence. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer as you continued your slow walk through the park.

For a few minutes you both walked in silence, letting the gentle breeze blow over your faces. You broke the silence by letting out a big sigh, and Jungkook looked at you with a small frown.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m just glad we finally graduated school” you answered and wrapped your arms around his arm.

“It’s like we can finally breathe now” you added.

“No more of Mr Lee’s bullshit” Jungkook giggled, reminding you of your homeroom teacher who you both had and absolutely hated.

You snorted in response, “I hate that baldy, he always found a way to pick on me” you said.

Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh as he threw his head back.

“I think he might have had a crush on you” he teased, nudging you.

You almost instantly elbowed him in the rib and shoved him away.

Jungkook winced in pain as he rubbed the aching area you just elbowed him, but the glint of mischief was still there as he laughed at you staring at him with horrified and disgusted eyes.

“Eww hell no! He’s like, what? Forty-years-old?” you almost gagged.

“Baby I’m just kidding” he lightly giggled as he pulled you in by the waist, and you smacked him in the shoulder as you rolled your eyes.

After a minute of silence, he snaked his hand around yours and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I love you” he said, lightly pressing his lips against the side of your head.

You smiled, feeling your heart warm up at his tender touch. Giving his hand a light squeeze, you removed your hand out of his hold and wrapped them around his waist.

“I love you too” you said back.

You both continued to walk in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's presence without the need for words.

And after a few minutes, you approached a bench beneath a large oak tree, its branches stretching out like protective arms from the light droplets of rain that were starting to fall.

You sighed in relief as you wiggled your aching ankles, and the sage coloured crocs you were wearing allowed the cool night air to soothe your tired feet. You hadn’t realised how much they ached until you finally stopped walking. You leaned back against the wooden bench and let out another sigh of relief.

Jungkook, however, seemed lost in his thoughts. He was fidgeting with something in the pocket of his sweatpants, his fingers nervously moving in and out of the fabric. His gaze was focused on the ground, his lips drawn into a tight line as if he were chewing on words he couldn't quite bring himself to say.

You noticed. With the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, and how he kept nibbling on his lips, it was a telltale sign that he was nervous about something.

You reached out and placed your hand gently on his knee, “are you okay Jungkook?” you asked worriedly.

He looked up at you, his eyes wide and unsure. For a moment, he hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words.

Then, with a shaky breath, he pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a small velvet box. The sight of it made your eyes widen and your heart skip a beat.

Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle at the look on your face, “don’t worry, I’m not proposing to you — yet” he said.

“I...I wanted to give you this,” he began.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, a simple band with a small, shining stone set in the center.

“It's a promise ring. I know it's not much, but I wanted you to have something...something that shows how much you mean to me” his voice was almost a whisper.

Your eyes softened as you looked at the ring, then back up at him. You could see how nervous he was, how much this moment meant to him. The rain continued to fall around you, a light drizzle that only added to the intimacy of the moment.

Jungkook took the ring from the box and slipped it onto your finger. It fit perfectly. A smile spread across your face as you looked back at him with your heart swelling with love.

“It's beautiful” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

“Thank you” you added in the end.

Jungkook let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing as relief washed over him.

“I just wanted you to know that I'm serious about us. I want to be with you, no matter what” he told you.

Taking your hands in his large ones, his deep and earnest eyes met yours.

“I love you, Y/n” he said softly.

“You’re everything to me. When I look into my future, all I see is you — us, together. I want you to know that I promise to love you, to cherish you, and to stand by you no matter what life throws our way”

The rain picked up, the sound of it on the leaves growing louder, but his words cut through it all.

“Even through the toughest storms, I’ll be here, right by your side. Forever”

Your eyes watered with unshed tears, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer. They began to spill over as they left a warm trail down your cheeks. Your lips trembled as you tried to speak, but the words were lost in the swell of emotions.

Even though you have been together a little over a year, you knew Jungkook’s love was genuine. You knew he was true to his words when he said he loved you, and he was never ashamed to prove it.

Without saying a word, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as. You held him close, tightening your hold and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“I love you too Jungkook” your voice was muffled against his neck, but Jungkook heard it loud and clear.

“I love you the most, princess” he smiled, hugging your waist protectively.

━━━━━━━━━━

▍PRESENT

You found it difficult to digest the fact that the memory was of ten years ago.

And now, here you sat quietly on the couch with your knees drawn tightly to your chest, as if by compressing your body you could contain the storm raging inside you. Your chin rested on top of your knees, a position you had found yourself in often over the past few days.

Your hair was a tangled mess, strands falling limply around your face, a sign of how little you had cared for yourself lately. It was clear you hadn’t run a comb through it in days, maybe longer.

Your eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now bloodshot from hours of crying, the whites tinged with red like an ominous warning light. The tears had dried up for now, but they had left their mark, leaving your eyes hollow and rimmed with dark circles.

Your face was ghostly pale, drained of all color as if life had been sucked out of you. The paleness only accentuated the deep sadness carved into your features — a sadness that seemed far too heavy for someone so young.

You stared down at the small, silver ring on your finger, the one you hadn’t removed in the ten years since he had slipped it onto your hand.

It had once been a symbol of hope, of a future you were supposed to build together. Now, it was a relic of promises that had been shattered, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off.

You hadn’t moved from that spot for hours. Time had lost its meaning. The ring, once a comfort, now felt like a shackle, but still, you couldn’t remove it.

Taking it off would mean acknowledging that it was truly over, and you weren’t ready for that.

Not yet.

So, you just sat there, staring at it, as if by doing so you could somehow go back to a time when the promises it represented were still intact, and the world hadn’t yet fallen apart around you.

You could only laugh at your sheer twist of fate.

Jungkook always had a way of making you feel like the center of the universe, as if the stars themselves shone only for you.

You remembered the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his voice would soften when he spoke to you.

He had promised you the world. He had promised you forever.

“You’re the only girl I’ll ever love,” he had said, his voice filled with conviction that made your heart swell with hope and certainty.

“There will never be anyone else.”

Those words had wrapped around you like a warm blanket, shielding you from the cold reality of the world.

He made you believe you were special, that you were different from anyone he had ever known. In his eyes, you were irreplaceable, unique, the love of his life.

But now, those words feel like daggers, stabbing into your chest with a pain that was almost physical. The man who had vowed to love you, who had sworn that no one could ever take your place, had broken your heart in the cruelest way.

He had moved on, found someone else, and left you behind in the aftermath of confusion and sorrow. The promises he made, the dreams you both built together, all shattered like fragile glass, leaving you to pick up the pieces alone.

You remembered how he used to call you late at night, just to hear your voice before he fell asleep.

How he would text you good morning every day without fail, making you feel like you were the first thing on his mind when he woke up.

How he would hold you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, convincing you that your love was unbreakable.

He had painted you the most beautiful art of love and trust around her, making you believe in a future that was never meant to be.

Now, that art was disintegrating, thread by painful decay.

No matter how much you tried to wrap your head around trying to understand what exactly went wrong in your relationship, there was no clear answer. There was no moment of revelation that explained why he abandoned you, why he chose to love someone else.

The nights are the hardest. When the world was quiet and still, your thoughts raced, taking you to dark places you never imagined you would go.

You sunk into your couch and laid your head back. You stared at the ceiling, the silence oppressive and suffocating. You thought of all the things you should have said, all the things you should have done differently.

Maybe if you had been more understanding, more patient, more loving, he would have stayed. Maybe if you had fought harder, he would still be yours

But deep down, you knew that it wasn’t your fault.

You gave him everything you had, every part of your heart and soul. You loved him with a depth and intensity that you didn’t know you were capable of. But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t true to his words. He wasn’t the man you thought he was.

You had believed you were special to him, that your love was something rare and precious. But now you felt ordinary, replaceable, just another girl who fell for a boy who didn’t love her as much as he claimed.

The thought was almost unbearable.

How could you have been so naive? How could you have let yourself believe that you were the one for him, when he was never truly yours to begin with?

The silence surrounding you was broken by your raw, aching sobs.

You shut your eyes and let the tears flow freely. You felt like you were drowning in your own sorrow, unable to escape the pull of the memories that dragged you down.

His face flashed before your eyes, his smile, his touch, the way he used to look at you. It was all so vivid, so real, that it almost felt like he was still there with you. But he wasn’t. He was gone, and so was the love he had promised.

You gave him your everything, but in the end, it had all been for nothing.

He had walked away, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. And no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time passed, you couldn’t seem to put those pieces back together. They were jagged, incomplete, and no amount of tears could make them whole again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

It was almost six in the evening, and you couldn’t be bothered to deal with anything or anyone right now.

So you ignored it at first, burying your face deeper into the pillow, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with your broken heart. Whoever it was, they would leave soon enough, you thought.

But the doorbell rang again. And again. Its insistent tone pierced through your despair, refusing to be ignored.

A part of you was annoyed by the intrusion. Couldn’t you even cry in peace?

With a sigh of defeat, you let the pillow fall from your grasp. You wiped the back of your hand across your tear-streaked face. But it didn’t really matter; your eyes were still red and puffy, and your cheeks still stained with tears.

Dragging yourself off the couch, you shuffled toward the door, your feet heavy with exhaustion. You didn’t care who it was or what they wanted. You just wanted it to stop.

The rational part of your mind told you to check the peephole, to make sure it wasn’t some stranger, but you were too drained to care. If it was an intruder, maybe they would put you out of your misery.

Your life had already been shattered, what more could happen?

You unlocked the door and swung it open without hesitation, almost as if you were defying the universe to do its worst. You were ready to face whatever awaited you on the other side, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that met your eyes.

For a moment, you just stood there, blinking against the dim light of the hallway, the cool air from the outside hitting your face like a splash of cold water.

There he was.

Standing on the threshold was the one person you both longed to see and dreaded facing.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat before it started pounding in your chest, a confusing mix of anger, longing, and despair crashing over you.

He looked just the same as he always had, the same messy hair that you used to run your fingers through, the same worn leather jacket you had borrowed so many times, inhaling the scent of him when he wasn’t around.

But now, all of that familiarity was like a knife twisting in your chest, reminding you of what you had lost.

You both stared at each other long with unreadable expressions.

You wanted to slam the door in his face, to scream at him for the hurt he had caused. But you also wanted to throw yourself into his arms, to let him hold you and make the pain go away.

The battle between your heart and mind paralysed you, leaving you breathing through shallow, ragged gasps.

“Y/n…” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it cut through the fog in your mind.

The sound of your name on his lips made your heart ache, bringing back memories of all the times he had spoken to you with that same softness, that same vulnerability.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over once more. “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask sternly, but your voice trembled and betrayed you.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat, and he closed it again, looking down at the floor as if searching for the right thing to say.

The seconds dragged on, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

What was he doing here? After everything, why had he come back?

You searched his face for answers, for some indication of what he was thinking, what he wanted.

The longer you stared at Jungkook, you could see the guilt written on his face. He looked guilty, almost as if he was regretting everything already.

Was he here to apologize? To ask for forgiveness? Or was this just another cruel twist of fate, a moment meant to shatter what little remained of your heart?

Finally, he raised his head and broke the silence. “I, uh, came to get the rest of my stuff” he said. His voice was low, and almost filled with shame.

And just like that, the tiny spark of hope you clinged on to shattered immediately.

Right.

You felt the ground beneath you give way, your stomach twisting in knots as his words sank in. He wasn't here to apologise, to say he missed you, to ask for another chance. He was here to take away the last remnants of him that were still a part of your life.

You didn’t know what to say to that but just stared at him, while your eyes screamed for him to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Was he just going to take his things and leave?

Was he not going to ask you how you were?

Wasn’t he going to apologise for breaking your heart and shattering your dreams?

Or was he going to act like nothing had happened, as if your love had been a fleeting whim and nothing more?

You wanted to scream, to demand answers, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused you. But the words wouldn’t come. They were lodged in your throat, suffocating you, as you stood there silently staring at him.

Nevertheless, your body moved, giving him space to enter what was once your shared haven.

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably before finally stepping inside, brushing past you as if he were a mere visitor in a stranger's home.

Slowly closing the door, you watched him move to your once shared droom. And you couldn’t help but follow behind.

You watched him collecting his things with a detached efficiency that made your stomach churn. He picked up his books, the few clothes he had left behind, and the framed picture of the two of you at the beach — one of your happiest memories.

For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes as he looked at the photo, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

┄┄┄┄┄

As Jungkook gathered the last of his things in a box, he turned to face you with an unreadable expression. Your heart pounded in your chest, hoping that he would finally say something — anything — to acknowledge what he had done. But all he did was nod, as if that simple gesture could somehow erase the past.

“Well, I guess that’s everything,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

You felt a tear escape and trail down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away, refusing to let him see how much you were still hurting.

“Is that all you have to say?” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you had kept bottled up.

Jungkook hesitated, his eyes briefly meeting yours before quickly looking away.

“Y/n, I…I didn’t want to hurt you. But it just… it just happened” he said.

The words hung in the air, as empty and hollow as you felt inside. How could he reduce the end of your relationship to such a meaningless statement? It just happened. As if falling out of love and breaking a promise were nothing more than a simple accident.

“It’s not even about the fact that you fell out of love with me,” you began, your voice cracking in the process.

“It’s the fact that you hid the actual truth and lied to me” you cried.

“I deserved more than this,” you whispered, “I deserved respect, and at least the decency of you being honest. Not this…betrayal”.

You didn’t care how awful you looked crying in front of him, the hurt inside you was too unbearable for you to care.

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, Y/n. And I’m sorry. I really am. But there’s nothing more I can say” he said.

The apology felt like a slap in the face, not because it wasn’t sincere, but because it came too late — far too late and too short to mend the broken pieces of your heart. It was like putting a band-aid on a wound that needed stitches.

“Yes Jungkook, there is so much you can say. Starting off by telling me where exactly it all began to go downhill. Or what it is about me that you started to not like anymore that you felt another woman could easily replace me” you cried.

All you received was silence from him as he stared at you with guilt, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes were beginning to gloss, not that he was truly regretting but because he was ashamed of himself. As he should be.

“I deserve a proper explanation, Jungkook. I deserve to know why I wasn’t enough for you even after ten fucking years of being together” you sobbed.

Jungkook took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair once again. He looked like he was struggling with what to say, but you didn’t care. You needed to hear it, even if it would break you all over again.

“It wasn’t about you, Y/n,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was me. I was lost, confused. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me”.

Your anger flared at his words. It felt like an excuse, a way to evade the truth.

“That’s not an answer, Jungkook. You broke my heart, and then you just moved on like I was nothing. Like we were fucking nothing!” you snapped.

Jungkook winced at your words, but he didn’t try to deny them. Instead, he took a step closer to you, his eyes pleading.

“I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But when I met her…everything just clicked. It felt right in a way that I can’t explain. She was always there, especially during all my long and exhausting hours of office work. It wasn’t planned, it just happened, I swear. And I was a coward for not being honest with you” he tried to explain the best he could.

Your face fell at his words, feeling your heart shatter anew. You had loved him so deeply, had given him everything, only to be discarded for someone else, someone who apparently was right for him in a way you never could be.

“And I wasn’t?” you questioned.

"So then what was I, Jungkook?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Just a placeholder until someone better came along?”.

“No,” Jungkook said quickly, his voice filled with regret.

“You were never a placeholder Y/n. I loved you — I still care about you. But sometimes, love isn’t enough. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the closure you needed. You deserved better than that” he said.

But all you could do was laugh in his face, humourlessly. You couldn’t believe him.

“If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t have hid the truth from me and then me find out through fucking social media” you snapped.

“Even then you didn’t even have the balls to come forward and be honest with me. You just left me in a dark place questioning everything about myself and how maybe it was my fault for not being enough” you glared at him.

Jungkook stayed glued to the ground and he clenched his fists. He didn’t even know what to say. You had the right to be angry. You deserved honesty from him, a proper closure, even if it meant that it was going to put you in the worst unimaginable pain in the world.

Jungkook reached out as if to touch you, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“Get out” your words stern but voice soft.

“We’re done, Jungkook. Completely done” you said.

Jungkook flinched at your words, a sharp intake of breath as if your anger and hurt had physically struck him.

He looked at you for a long moment, and you could see the sorrow in his eyes. But you didn’t waver. He wasn’t the victim here.

Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping as he bent down to pick up the box.

He gave you one last look before turning and walking towards the door. And as the door closed behind him, you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

You knew it would be a long time before the wounds he left would heal, but you also knew that you would survive this. You had to.

NEXT ➜

[jedi-hawkins]

Callsign: Omega

post-s3 finale head cannons (spoilers, duh)

Omega, she’s become one of the most famous pilots for the rebellion.

She names her x-wing “Havoc 5” for her brothers

Of course it has their ct numbers written across the back, right behind the cockpit, for they’re always watching her six. She can't see them when she's flying, and frankly doesn't look at the worn numbers there every day, but they're there always.

The belly of her x-wing is covered in tally marks. The blue ones are for each clone she’s helped free, an ohmage to a clone her brother Echo told her about, ARC-5555. The black ones are for every other being she's helped free. And the red ones, those are for the lives that have passed on and become one with the Force.

On part of her landing gear is a blue pawprint.

On her helmet she only has five things painted, a knife, a crosshair, a tooka doll, a handprint, and a pair of goggles.

On the shoulder of her flight suit, she adds another CF 99 patch, just like the one on her jacket.

She goes by callsign “Omega” for she is the last. The end. The final thing her enemies will see, the last thing the Empire will feel as it falls. She is the being that brings an end to the suffering that so many clones have faced as wards of the Empire when she shows up to liberate them. Omega.

Bonus: The first time she returns to Pabu, Hunter immediately notices the nose art she's chosen to paint on her shuttle, the one built from the Marauder's salvage. It's a stark replica of the nose art that once adorned the original ship, back in the Clone Wars. His stomach plummets and he can't even find the words. As his daughter strolls down the ramp, she immediately bursts into laughter at the look on his face.

Her brothers, Crosshair and Wrecker stroll into the courtyard, the larger of the two asking loudly, "What's so funny, 'Meg?"

"I think that is what's so funny." The lankier one replies, gesturing to the nose of the shuttle with his left hand. He's forgone his prosthetic today. Some days he wears it, others he chooses to wear his cap with pride.

Wrecker scratches his beard and both his eyes widen, "WAIT- IS THAT?"

"So, it would seem." Crosshair says, placing a toothpick between his lips. "Breathe, Hunter." He says pointedly at his brother, who still looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"I-uhh. It's good to have you home, Omega." He finally stutters out.

He wraps his arms around her tightly as always, but his eyes are still glued to the hull of her shuttle. "Done some decorating, I see?"

"Yeah." She replies simply, giving Wrecker and Crosshair their own due hugs. "You like it?"

"It certainly is... something." Hunter gets out, stumbling over his words yet again.

"I found the image in some old Republic files we recovered, it reminded me of something I saw as a kid, but I don't remember where." She says, coming to stand beside Hunter again.

"Ehhh... Omega." Her father groans, running a hand through his greying hair. "Do you... Do you remember what the Marauder looked like when we first met?"

She turns to him. "No, why do you ask?"

Hunter finally peels his eyes away from the shuttle to face his daughter. "That picture you found... That was... That was the Marauder, that's where you know it from. You only saw it once. We scrubbed it off as soon as we decided to come back to Kamino for you."

"Really? I had no recollection." Omega tries to stop the grin from spreading across her face, but she can't help it, and Hunter, still perceptive as always scoffs at her.

"Why you little..." He growls at her, stifling his own laughter.

"I think she knows..." Crosshair chimes in, running his hand through his silver locks.

Wrecker's jaw drops, "Wait, you know where that's from?"

Omega shakes her head at her brothers. "Of course I know, I never forgot how awkward you all were when I asked about it. It didn't click exactly why until I found that old picture. Thought I'd bring it back for old time's sake, eh Hunter?"

Hunter's eyes widen as words escape him once again.

"Kidding," Omega teases. "I just wanted to see what your reaction would be."

Crosshair steps closer to the shuttle to examine the paint job. "Though this has been wildly entertaining, it might be best for you to scrub it, 'Mega."

Omega crosses her arms. "Why? You did it first little brother."

His eyes narrow at his sister, he's the only one she ever pulls that with and though he secretly loves it, she can't know that. "I mean it." He says sternly, pointing his toothpick at her. "Otherwise, Hunter is going to have an aneurysm every time you come home."

Omega looks to the clone beside her, just barely an inch shorter than her now. She places a hand on his shoulder, "Of course I'll scrub it. Echo thought the idea was hilarious. Plus, it gave me an opening to show you this."

She gently reaches into her bag and brings out a holoframe, turning it so Hunter can see. It looks just like any other quick photo taken in a Republic shipyard. Troopers are milling around in the back, by the looks of the landscape it might've been Ryloth. The focus of the photo, however, is a black Omicron-class attack shuttle and five clone commandos posed in front of it in red and black armor.

Their helmets are off, their faces young and confident, proud of their most recent mission. Though, the sniper has a rifle held in his right hand, and the one crouched in front doesn't have his goggles on. But it's clear who it is, all five of them. And on the nose of the attack shuttle behind them, is the striking portrait of the last senator of Naboo.

[prettygrltatum]

aaaaa simon asking bimbo!reader out??? or like fluffy hcs abt the two n their dynamic 🥹🥹

omg simon asking reader out is making me explode. sorry for the last responce btw lol, I had somethings going down :33 and im tired too lmao

warning: just some guy harrasing tf out of you and just being a dickhead, spelling mistakes

It was simple idea to him. Just walk right up to you and ask you out to dinner or a drink. Maybe even gas you up a bit. Tell you how pretty you are (which you know already) or that your outfit is cute.

But his body was betraying his mind. Amerging from the locker room, he sees little ole you. Or just your hair. All pretty and ready to work out he assumed. Shame he was getting ready to leave.

But a small and weak plea rings and travels through his ear. It was you, your sweet and addictive voice.

"Hey doll, just give me your number! I can give you a good time!" A man, proabarly in his mid life talking you up. Simon creeps behind the corner, eyebrows furrowed and in anger. Only if he could snap his neck right off. He can but what will you think? Think of him as amurdering machine like everyone else?

"The only you're having is in the geriatric ward, fuck off creep." you whined trying to squirm away from his hand. He could just stand by and watch you get treated this way. No. No way.

Simon's hulky foot steps march down the hallways. His grumbled catching the both of yours attention. "Leave the girl alone, she doesn't want you. Get a move on mate." He said, husjky and enrich of a natural Manchester accent.

"Hey leave us alone. I don't need your help buddy." The man bravely snapped back, his smirk wide as he turned back to you. Before Simon could catch life in prison for fucking this guy up, your legs swung at the stranger.

"FUCK!" He hollered. You pulled out your pepper spary and started to bend over him and spary it directly in his eyes. "Yeah fucker you don't like that you old saggy ass bitch!" You cursed. All the while Simon stood there, a bystander you could say.

As the man groaned and cried, you smiled at Simon. "Thank you mister!" Oh the way you said mister too-

"I-I uhm. You're welcome." He mumbled, all his confidence all of a sudden drained. You hand shot at his bicep, squishing and rubbing them. "You must come here often! You're rip mister! No doubt you would have wreck this guy."

Simon wanted to ask so badly, but yet again his body betrayed his mind once more.Why now? You were just too pretty for him. Not even worthy of being by your side even if it was only for a while. But yet-

"Mister, your eyes are very pretty. They remind me of my favorite chocolate bar. Like the wrapper."

Wait huh-

"I wanna take you out on a date with you! As a thank you! I'd go out with you than this wrinkled date here."

Simon just nodded his hand as he let you grabbed squish all over you. Finally his body was in sync with his mind.

[enemiestolovershoe]

Heii babeee. Can you please do a Rafe Cameron x enemies!reader? They are both well known people on Figure 8 but hat each other but one evening at a gala or something they fight and end up fucking in the bathroom. Maybe Ward and readers dad catches them in the end?

Entangled with the Enemy

Rafe Cameron x enemie!reader

Words: 4k

Summary: a heated rivalry ignites passion during a gala, revealing hidden desires.

Ever since you could remember, Rafe Cameron had been a thorn in your side. It wasn’t just a passing annoyance—no, it was a deep-rooted rivalry that had started long before either of you understood the complexities of disdain. It began at the country club when you were both barely old enough to hold a golf club. He had knocked over your lemonade in the clubhouse, laughing in that irritating way that only a spoiled rich kid could. You had retaliated by stepping on his foot with your newly polished shoes, which led to a shouting match that had every adult in the room glancing disapprovingly in your direction.

You hated him then. You hated him now.

Years later, not much had changed between you. If anything, the rivalry had only grown stronger, more venomous, as you both became fixtures in Figure 8’s elite social scene. Wherever you were, Rafe wasn’t far behind, and the feeling of mutual loathing had followed you through middle school, high school, and now, even into your early twenties.

Everyone in Figure 8 knew of your animosity. Some thought it was amusing—two golden children of Kildare’s wealthiest families constantly at each other’s throats. Others whispered, wondering if there wasn’t something else lurking beneath all that hatred, but you always scoffed at the idea.

Tonight was no different.

The annual Figure 8 Gala was a glamorous event, one that drew all the old-money families out of their grand estates and onto the dance floor, where champagne flowed like water and gossip circulated in hushed, excited tones. You stood near the bar, wearing a sleek black dress that made you look effortlessly elegant. You had a glass of wine in your hand, but you weren’t drinking much. Instead, your eyes flitted over the crowd, looking for an exit. As much as you tried to tolerate these events, they always left you feeling restless.

Just as you took a sip, you heard that all-too-familiar voice behind you.

“Surprised to see you here. Didn’t think this was your scene anymore,” Rafe sneered, his presence commanding attention without even trying.

You set your glass down on the bar, not turning around yet. The tension between you two was palpable, even before you exchanged a single glance.

“Rafe, are you stalking me now, or is it just that you have nothing better to do with your life?” you retorted, finallyspinning around to face him.

He looked infuriatingly good, dressed in a tailored black suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and sharp jawline. His eyes, blue and piercing, studied you for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Always the charming one,” he said mockingly, stepping closer. “Remind me, how many years have you been trying to get under my skin? I’m starting to lose count.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him intimidate you. “I don’t have to try. You make it way too easy.”

Rafe chuckled, a low sound that made your skin prickle with annoyance. “Oh, trust me, princess, you’ve been trying. Ever since we were kids.”

At that, your glare sharpened. "Please. If anyone’s been obsessed with the past, it’s you. I’ve moved on from our childish nonsense a long time ago.”

“Right,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re standing here, looking like you’re about to snap my neck just because I’m breathing in the same room as you.”

“I’m standing here because I’m trying to enjoy my night without you ruining it,” you shot back, voice icy. “But clearly, that’s asking for too much.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.”

You pulled back immediately, staring at him like he’d just insulted you. “You’re delusional if you think I enjoy anything about you.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering you with a smug look that only made your blood boil more. “You used to care what I thought. Back in the day. Admit it.”

You scoffed, brushing past him, though he was quick to catch up, his long strides keeping him close. “I never cared about your opinion, Rafe. You’ve always been a spoiled, arrogant—”

“Rich boy?” he finished for you, a sarcastic glint in his eyes. “You keep throwing that around like it’s supposed to insult me.”

“It’s not an insult,” you replied, your voice low but steady. “It’s a fact.”

He stopped in front of you, blocking your path. The tension between you both was starting to draw attention from the surrounding party-goers, who were now casting curious glances in your direction. Some even whispered to one another, probably amused at the latest chapter in the saga of Rafe Cameron vs. You.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Rafe’s question came suddenly, his tone different—less mocking, more…curious. His brow furrowed as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer. “What is it, huh?”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the shift in his attitude. “I—what?”

“You heard me,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping. “Why do you hate me? Because, from where I’m standing, it feels like you put more effort into this than necessary. I know I’m not the nicest guy around, but…” He trailed off, watching you with a sharpness that you hadn’t seen before. It was unnerving.

You swallowed hard, straightening your posture as you searched for a retort. You couldn’t let him get to you. Not like this. “It’s easy to hate you, Rafe. You make it easy.”

He nodded slowly, as if contemplating your words. His lips twitched, forming a tight smile. “Because it’s easier to hate me than admit anything else, right?”

“What the hell does that mean?” you snapped, suddenly defensive.

“It means,” Rafe started, closing the distance between you again, his voice lowering to a near whisper, “you spend so much time convincing yourself that I’m the problem, but maybe the problem is you can’t stand the fact that we’re more alike than you want to admit.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but nothing came out. For a split second, his words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a vice. The tension between you two felt different, heavier, like it was building toward something neither of you could control.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you finally managed to say, though your voice lacked the usual venom.

His smirk returned, but there was something else behind it now. Something almost…challenging. “Oh, I don’t have to. You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“I’m not thinking about anything except how to get away from you,” you shot back, turning on your heel to leave. But his hand caught your wrist, stopping you.

“Funny,” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing. “Because every time you walk away, you always come back.”

A rush of frustration surged through you, his words clawing at something deeper, something you hadn’t been willing to admit for a long time. Maybe it was the constant proximity, maybe it was the years of bickering, or maybe it was the way he stood there, challenging you with every look, every smirk, every damn word. You felt your pulse quicken, your heart hammering in your chest as the room seemed to grow smaller.

You exhaled sharply, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, overwhelming you.

"Fuck this," you muttered under your breath.

Without giving yourself time to think—or regret—you grabbed Rafe by the front of his jacket and pulled him with you, weaving through the crowd. You didn’t know where you were going at first, but the second you spotted the nearest bathroom, you headed straight for it. Your heels clicked furiously against the polished floor as Rafe followed, clearly taken by surprise but not resisting.

The bathroom door slammed behind you, not locking, but you didn’t care.

Before you could second-guess yourself, your hands gripped his collar, pulling him down as your lips crashed into his. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t careful. It was desperate, heated—years of tension and frustration finally spilling over.

Rafe groaned into your mouth, his hands immediately gripping your waist as if he’d been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. The kiss was fierce, all teeth and tongue, neither of you giving the other a moment to breathe.

“Always so dramatic,” Rafe muttered against your lips between heavy breaths, his fingers sliding up your back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Shut up,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, wanting—needing—more.

He chuckled against your mouth, but the sound quickly turned into a low growl as his hands roamed down to your hips, gripping you with an intensity that made your legs feel weak.

Before you knew it, he lifted you effortlessly, your back pressing against the cool bathroom counter as he hoisted you up onto it. You gasped as the cold surface met your thighs, but the feeling was quickly replaced by the heat of his hands sliding up your legs, parting them with a slow, deliberate motion.

His lips were on your neck again, sucking and biting in a way that made it impossible to think straight. You could feel his breath hitch as he pressed harder into you, his body flush against yours.

“You’re not gonna stop me this time, are you?” Rafe’s voice was rough, low, almost daring you to push him away.

“Try me,” you muttered, breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer.

Rafe smirked, his eyes dark with something more than just arrogance. His hands tightened around your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours again. "I always knew you wanted me,” he whispered, his voice dripping with that familiar cockiness, but this time, you didn’t bother to deny it.

“You think too much,” you replied, your voice coming out in a breathy rush, and before he could respond, you crashed your lips into his again. This time, there was no holding back, no hesitation. Just pure, heated want.

He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hands slid up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs even further. The counter pressed against your back, the cold contrast making the heat between your bodies even more intense.

Your heart raced as his touch became more insistent, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you. And you couldn’t get enough of him, either. Everything about this moment was wrong, but it felt so damn right.

You didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to.

You barely registered what you were doing as your fingers reached for the buttons of Rafe’s shirt, fumbling slightly in your haste to get it off. He broke the kiss for a brief second, just long enough to glance down at your hands before smirking. Without a word, he quickly helped you, undoing the buttons faster and shoving the fabric off his shoulders. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the heat of his body driving you crazy as your hands ran over the hard planes of his chest.

He didn’t waste any time either. His hands slid down your waist, rough and urgent, before they disappeared under your dress. With one swift motion, he pushed it up around your hips, his fingertips skimming over your thighs as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off,” Rafe growled, voice thick with lust as he pulled them down in one quick motion, leaving you bare beneath him. He tossed them aside carelessly, his hands immediately returning to your thighs, spreading your legs wider.

You gasped, both from the sudden exposure and the way his touch sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly. Your mind was spinning, caught somewhere between disbelief and pure, unfiltered desire. This was happening, and it was happening fast, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. Not when every touch, every breath, made your skin burn with need.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, his body pressing firmly against yours. He took a moment to look down at you, his blue eyes darkened with lust, a cocky grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I always knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with that same arrogant charm that had always made you want to slap him—except now, it made you want him even more.

“Shut up,” you breathed, your hands flying to his belt, desperate to unbuckle it and get it out of the way. The sound of the leather slipping free was loud in the small bathroom, but all you could focus on was the feel of his skin against yours as you finally managed to free him from his pants.

“Someone’s eager,” Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he kicked off his shoes and pushed his pants and boxers down in one swift movement.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your pulse racing as he pressed his hips against yours, the feel of him—hard and ready—against your entrance sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

His eyes met yours, the cocky grin gone, replaced by something far more intense. Without saying a word, he positioned himself between your legs, one hand gripping your thigh as the other lined himself up at your entrance. There was no warning, no teasing, just the raw, primal need driving both of you.

In one smooth thrust, he pushed inside, and both of you let out matching moans, the sound filling the small bathroom as your bodies collided.

“Fuck,” Rafe groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him deep inside you. His breath was hot against your neck, his grip on your hips tightening as he fought to keep himself under control.

You gasped, your nails digging into his bare shoulders as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. The stretch was intense, the pressure overwhelming, but it felt so good, too good. Your head fell back against the mirror behind you, your body arching against his as the tension in the air became almost unbearable.

“God, Rafe,” you whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to catch your breath. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the look he gave you was pure hunger. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he growled, and with that, he started to move.

His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, as if he was savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. But it wasn’t long before the pace quickened, the heat between you building with each movement. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you against him with every thrust, his body driving into yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his voice rough and filled with raw desire. His lips found yours again, but this kiss was different—hotter, needier, all tongues and teeth as his hips snapped forward, hitting deeper every time.

You couldn’t hold back the moans that escaped your lips, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his back as you clung to him, your body rocking with his, matching his rhythm. It was fast, frantic, like you both needed this more than air.

“Rafe…” You breathed his name again, a plea, a warning. Your entire body was wound tight, the tension coiling low in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice thick and strained as he drove into you harder, his forehead resting against yours. “Say my name.”

“Rafe,” you gasped, your voice breaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. You were close, so close, and he knew it.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips brushing against yours as he thrust deeper, the angle hitting just right, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. “You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

You could barely respond, too lost in the feeling of him inside you, the overwhelming sensation building with each thrust, each ragged breath. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, as your nails raked down his back.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you managed to gasp, your head falling back as the pleasure built to a breaking point, your entire body trembling.

Rafe groaned in response, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. “Me too, baby,” he muttered against your skin, his voice strained. “Come for me.”

And that was all it took.

With one final, hard thrust, the tension inside you snapped, sending you over the edge. A moan tore from your lips, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through you, overwhelming your senses.

Rafe wasn’t far behind. You felt him tense, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself inside you, groaning as he reached his own release. His breath was hot against your neck, his body pressed against yours as he rode out the last waves of pleasure, his hips moving in slow, lazy thrusts.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath as the intensity of what just happened settled between you.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he looked at you, a mixture of satisfaction and something else—something unreadable—in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and still rough from exertion.

You nodded, still trying to process everything. “Yeah… more than okay,” you whispered, a small, breathless laugh escaping your lips.

Rafe smirked, that cocky grin you knew so well making its return. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

As the rush of the moment slowly faded, the sound of your combined heavy breathing filled the small space. Rafe’s hands still gripped your waist, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to come down from the intense high. Your skin was flushed, tingling from where he had touched you, the heat of your bodies still lingering in the air.

Neither of you said a word for a few moments, the silence stretching between you, filled with the weight of what had just happened. You were still perched on the counter, your dress bunched around your hips, both of you completely undressed, the reality of your situation slowly settling in.

Rafe leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to make sure this was all real. A small, cocky smile began to creep onto his lips. “That was… something,” he breathed, his thumb gently brushing against your thigh.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking your head as you tried to gather yourself. “Yeah,” you whispered, your own cheeks still burning, your heart racing for a whole new reason. “Something.”

Just as you were about to say more, the faint creak of the bathroom door opening snapped both of your heads toward the sound.

Panic hit you like a tidal wave, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes widened in horror. You had barely registered the fact that you were still practically naked, tangled in Rafe, when two familiar figures stepped into the bathroom—your dad and Ward Cameron.

The room seemed to freeze for a second. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you stared, wide-eyed, at the two men now standing in front of you. They didn’t even look surprised—more like they had walked in on something they’d been expecting all along.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible, your face flushing even redder than it already was. You quickly moved to cover yourself, but it was too late. You’d been caught. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, mortification crashing over you like a wave.

Rafe, equally frozen for a moment, blinked before quickly stepping in front of you, blocking their view as much as possible. “Oh my god, Dad, get out!” he shouted, his voice louder than necessary, sounding more like a demand than a request.

Your dad chuckled first, breaking the silence with a deep, amused laugh that made your embarrassment ten times worse. He exchanged a look with Ward, who simply shook his head with a knowing smile, as if the two of them had been waiting for this moment.

“Well, look at that,” Ward said, his tone full of dry amusement as he turned to face Rafe. “Took you two long enough to finally get along.”

Rafe groaned in frustration, his face flushed as he tried to shield you from view, his hands scrambling to grab his discarded shirt. “Dad, seriously—get out!” he snapped again, his voice full of exasperation.

Your dad shook his head, still chuckling softly. “We’ll give you two a moment,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he turned around to leave. “But don’t take too long. The gala’s still going on, after all.”

Ward followed suit, giving one last look over his shoulder, an almost proud smirk on his face. “Nice work, son,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, that did not just happen,” you muttered, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment. You could still hear the faint sound of their laughter echoing down the hallway.

Rafe let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s just… unreal,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, clearly as mortified as you were. “I can’t believe they—”

You cut him off with a shaky laugh, your hands still covering your face. “This is officially the worst way this could have ended.”

Rafe chuckled softly, clearly trying to shake off the awkwardness of the situation. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Yeah, well,” he murmured, his voice light and teasing, “at least they didn’t kill me.”

You let out a weak laugh, finally pulling your hands away from your face to look up at him. “Yet,” you replied, your voice dry as you shook your head. “They didn’t kill you yet.”

Rafe grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Guess we’ll just have to see how long I can stay alive, huh?”

You laughed again, the tension between you easing just a little. Despite everything—the panic, the embarrassment—there was still that undeniable spark between you, something deeper that neither of you could ignore anymore. Whatever had happened tonight, it had changed everything.

“Let’s just… not talk about this,” you muttered, still trying to shake off the mortification as you grabbed for your clothes, ready to escape the bathroom as fast as possible.

“Deal,” Rafe agreed, already pulling his shirt back on, though his eyes lingered on you with that same heated intensity, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “For now.”

As you straightened your dress and gathered yourself, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, a part of you knowing that whatever came next between you and Rafe, it was going to be far from over.

[hyperblue]

‘Baby you need to get some sleep.’ not kon spoke from just over his shoulder, his hallucination was eerily detailed. Right down to the stitching on kons leather jacket, the dimples in his cheeks, the texture of his hair, the way he cared deeply and endlessly. ‘You wont be any good to anyone if you carry on like this, wont be any good to him.’ Tim hummed in acknowledgment.

‘I’ll sleep in a minute, i just wanna watch him for a while.’ He’ll sleep when he’s viable. Tim was currently sat on the floor in front of a large glass tube full of slightly luminous green liquid. Suspended in the middle of the tube was a foetus, soon it would be a baby. Their baby. He just needed to watch it a while longer, just until it was old enough to be viable outside of its growth medium. His son, his half kon half him miracle. ‘What should we call him do you think.’ he turned but not kon had moved, his hallucinations always hovered on the edge of his vision just out of proper sight. Just out of reach. a reminder they were unattainable, a dream.

‘Baby I don’t think anything, I’m not real remember.’ He sighed deep and long.

‘I know, i know you aren’t real just make something up. Tell me what i think he would’ve wanted. Let me pretend we’re doing this together.’ Not kon was stood on the other side of the tube now, image warped by the growth medium. He put his hand on the glass right over their son. ‘Just tell me anything, anything at all.’ He was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of deep sadness, of bitter cold loneliness. All he wanted in this moment was for real kon to tell him what to do, to guide him out of this mess. Not kon would have to do.

‘Well, i like the older all American names. Even though you always found them silly.’ He closed his eyes and huffed out the smallest laugh, this was unfortunately very true. ‘If it was a girl it’d be easy, Wendy Wayne! Wendy Wayne-Kent?’ The laugh was more real this time because not kon (his brain?) was correct. Their daughter would’ve been named for Wendy the werewolf stalker and he would’ve let it happen. Not their son though. He sat quietly for a few minutes just thinking.

‘How about Ward? Old school, American, has some meaning too it, not horrifically long or embarrassing, suits all life stages.’ He tried to look up at not kon but he was back behind him in his peripheral vision. Shame. Not kon nodded.

‘Yeah i think I would’ve liked that, or you think I would’ve liked that whatever. Maybe Edward, ward for short.’ Tim nodded, a sensible name. Something he could grow up with. A small gift he could give to his son.

‘Edward Jonathan Kent-Wayne. Big name for such a little thing.’ He put his hand on the cool glass and stroked over where his baby was growing stronger by the minute. ‘Big name big shoes big legacy.’ He felt a phantom touch on his shoulder, there and gone in a second, his brain filling in a gap. But it was enough. Enough to feel like kon was with him. He hoped not kon didn’t know what he planned to do after their son was born, hoped he could be ignorant where tim couldn’t be.

Ward slept peacefully in his car seat where its set on top of a metal table a ways behind him, not kon is hovering over him humming something soothing and quiet. Tim sits down with a couple pieces of printer paper and sets about writing his son a letter. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone for, how long he’ll leave ward with Bruce so he fills the letter with information about himself, information about kon, information about how ward was created. Stories about his daddies he wants his son to know, not battle stories not tales of superheroic glory but dumb inconsequential little memories. Tiny shining pieces of the complexity that was Conner Kent, about how they met, how they fell in love, the short months they got together. He fills ten pieces of paper front and back with memories and love and whatever tiny pieces of wisdom he has to pass on. He signs it off like this.

‘My ward, my miracle, i hope you have never once doubted my love for you. I hope you know the only reason i left you with your grandfather is because I’m very sick right now and wouldn’t be able to keep you safe and happy like he undoubtedly has. I wouldn’t have been able to surround you with family or give you the stability you needed to thrive. One day when I’m better I’ll come back and hopefully you’ll want to know me, but if you don’t i’ll respect your wishes. You are the most perfect, beautiful and impactful thing I’ve ever created. You are my heart outside my body. In my minds eye you are the spitting image of your daddy and whatever you do you’ll be a credit to his legacy, i know this as well as i know anything. Know that i love you now, and i still love you whenever you read this again.

Your father,

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne’

He slips the papers into a Manila envelope seals it and addresses it to ward, he writes another much shorter letter which is sealed in a regular envelope addressed to his dad.

‘Bruce,

Im sorry for the stress this surprise and my disappearance will cause you, but i am not sorry for either the surprise or my disappearance. His name is Edward Jonathan Kent-Wayne and he is my son, look after him while I’m gone. Im not fit to look after myself right now let alone a baby so i entrust him to you - you kept us all mostly alive and none of us where invulnerable quarter kryptonians. By the time you read this ill be long gone and I’m not coming back until I’m better however long that takes, if he gets old enough to start asking questions give him or read him the letter I left addressed to him.

I know I’m asking a lot but there is no one else i could or would trust with him, he is and i suspect will always be my greatest triumph. Love him, embrace being a grandfather, get Alfred to help you adjust. I hope i will be back soon, i doubt i will be.

Your son,

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne’

He slips the Manila envelope, Bruce’s letter, and the birth certificate listing both him and Connor into a bag with some clothes and supplies for ward. It is legitimate if of illegal creation - not that anyone will be able to tell.

Tomorrow he will drop ward off with a very discreet nanny who has been paid through the nose to keep him for three days and then drop him off at wayne manor. Tim has $17,000 last minute round trip first class flights leaving from Newark landing in Bordeaux that he only intends to use one way under the name Manon Alarie, hes got one of his mothers Chanel skirt suits from the 80s - its a black white and grey tartan material with shoulder pads, hes got a cashmere sweater shirt, black stockings, a circle brimmed sort of shallow trilby hat thing to obscure his face, a skinny black leather belt and gloves, a pair of punishing black so Kate’s and enough gold and diamond jewellery that he hopes he can pull off ‘wealthy teenager dressing up in mummies clothes from the 80s to seem older’ well enough that no one will question anything. After he lands in France he will shed manon and adopt someone else. He speaks french well enough maybe he’ll stay there maybe he’ll go somewhere else. He has near unlimited resources from his destruction of the league and all the time in the world.

He wont stay in Bordeaux for long though, he has faith in Bruce’s detective skills to be able to track him to there. But France is large and he is adept at disappearing into the crowd. Oracle will know where he is but he trusts babs to know what he needs to do.

Kal arrives in less than an hour. He’s dressed in a suit and tie and his glasses are askew on his face, he stares at the baby and at the dna readout back and forth again and again for ten minutes. Finally he breaths out a long shuddering breath and slumps into one of the batcomputers desk chairs. ‘Well shit Bruce.’ His sentiments exactly. ‘And he’s definitely kryptonian? for sure kryptonian?’ He’s staring at the dna test again.

‘His overall dna structure is an incredibly close match to kon-el’s and about a 45% match with your’s and other full kryptonians. The stuff that went in is 50/50 from both the parents but the structure is more kryptonian than you would expect. In layman’s terms he got more of kons kryptonian stuff than his human stuff.’ Kal scrubs his hands over his face and sighs.

‘How did no one know about this until the baby showed up, and where the hell is Tim? And what’s the babies name? And how am i supposed to tell my mother.’ The last few words were hissed out as if ma Kent was going to teleport behind them and start berating them for hiding a grand/great grand baby from her affectionate clutches.

‘I currently have little information about the nature of his creation or the wearabouts of my son, you were the first call after i ran his blood work. Had to make sure he was actually Tim’s baby and not just, you know, a random baby.’ Kal nods. ‘Tim left some documents with him, there’s a letter for me and for the baby and a birth certificate thats either real or a very impressive forgery. He’s called Edward Jonathan Kent-Wayne but we’re to call him Ward apparently.’ Kal smiled at that.

‘Pa might actually cry when he finds out, i might’ve taken a while to step up with kon but they loved him as soon as they found out about him. They’ve been doing worse than they’re willing to let on to me i think, a great grandbaby is about the best news they’ll have heard all year.’ He reaches out and strokes the sleeping boys downy cheek ‘god hes gonna need a kryptonian name isnt he.’ Bruce nods and clears his throat.

‘Kons not around and it only feels right that a kryptonian does the honours, what do you say grandpa Clark.’ Clark groans and punches his leg a little too hard.

‘Do not call me that grandpa Bruce, yeah see how it feels.’ It feels not good. He feels older than he ever has looking down at this baby, his son’s baby, his grandson. His latest blue eyed black haired boy. Kal thinks for a minute before smiling all teeth. ‘I didn’t do right by your daddy when i named him, but I’m gonna do right by you.’ He puts a single finger into wards hand and shakes it up and down a couple times. ‘Welcome to the house of El Kyn-El. Son of Kon-El son of Kal-El son of Jor-El.’ He turns to Bruce and translates. ‘Kyn has the K like me and Kon and it means gift, Kyn and El he’s a gift from the stars.’ It’s a good name, a beautiful name. He hopes Tim would be ok with Kal giving it to him. He needs to go lie down in a dark room with his grandson.

‘Ok Clark take a picture and tell your mother she can have as many as she wants if shes on call for any baby kryptonian emergencies.’ Clark laughs but does as hes told. Before he leaves though he turns to Bruce one last time.

‘You sure you’ve got this, i could take him or ma and pa could probably if its too much. It wont be easy if hes got powers like kons.’ Bruce nods, solemn and grave - all batman.

‘I need to do this Kal, Tim is. He’s the smartest of us besides Barbara, we wont find him until he wants to be found. Oracle could but she’ll respect his need for distance and wont tell us where he is unless he’s trying to get himself killed. I need to do this for him, for my son, i need him to know his trust in me was not misplaced.’ Clark claps him on the shoulder, gives him a sad little smile, and is gone before he can blink. Ward is an eerily quiet baby, he probably gets that from tim, and he thinks some lying down in the dark time would be fun and beneficial for them both.

Three scenes from a clone baby fic I’ll probably never finish, idk i just wanted to share the burst of inspiration your clone posting gave me x

okay but what if you actually finish it?? pretty please??? 👉👈

the writing is so good, we LOVE tim hallucinating kon, i also love the way you've gone with this, especially tim leaving for the sake of his child (i'm sure nothing would go wrong! there's absolutely no way this decision would backfire later!); i know a lot of clone baby au enjoyers are "tim would NEVER leave his child" truthers but honestly i can definitely see him not breaking the cycle of leaving since, you know. leaving was all he's ever known for his own parents

thank you so much for sharing this, hope you'll find time to finish this fic bc we need ALL the clone baby fics we can get

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Not Dead Yet | Part 02

-> Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Medium-Fem!Reader

-> Synopsis: After trying to avoid Jeonghan (and the other ghosts) Y/N encounters him on the stairwell and is unable to ignore him anymore.

-> Warnings: Paranormal au. Hints at a possible evil spirit lurking about. Sick child in hospital but doesn't mention the illness, hints at her having been in hospital for a while. Y/N almost cusses a couple times. Hints at Y/N and Jihoon fake dating. This is a work of fiction. In no way does it reflect the guys.

-> Word Count: 2,616

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Not Dead Yet Masterlist | SEVENTEEN M.List

As Y/N walks along the footpath leading to the hospital, she digs through her bag, looking for something she promised one of the kids she visits. When she can't find it, she starts to cuss but stops herself when an elderly lady glares at her as she passes by. She bows in apology before continuing her search. 

Just a moment later, Y/N feels a sudden chill run down her spine and turns back to see the woman has completely vanished and is nowhere to be found. 

Frustrated, she scans the area, mentally scolding herself for revealing her ability to see ghosts to the old woman. “You would think I would know the difference between the living and dead by now,” she mutters under her breath, ensuring that only her brother on the other end of the call can hear her. 

“You chose to volunteer at the hospital,” Seungcheol, chimes in. “You’re surrounded by both the living and the dead there.” 

“I’m surrounded by the living and the dead everywhere I go,” she replies, rolling her eyes at his comment. But then, she suddenly exclaims, “Aha!” as she finally finds what she was looking for. It’s a small ballerina doll that used to be hers. She believes it deserves a new home with the little girl she’s befriended through her volunteer work. The little girl loves ballet more than she ever did. “I need to go. Tell Eomma I’ll be there tonight, but if she tries to set me up with one of her friend’s sons again, I’m going to leave and-,” she pauses, an idea coming to her. “Actually, I should bring Jihoon. That might keep her off my back for a while.”  

“You brought Jihoon a few months ago,” he reminds her. “Are you going to tell eomma that you’re fake back together?”  

“Shi-Yah!” she exclaims, stopping herself from cussing again as the elderly woman from a minute ago suddenly reappears in front of her. “I’ll find someone else to bring,” she quickly says, ending the call before he can respond. She frowns at the lady, taking out her earbuds and placing them back in her bag. The elderly woman says nothing as Y/N moves past her to go inside the hospital. Making her way up to the children’s ward, she keeps her head bowed so she doesn’t make eye contact with any more spirits. 

“Jeon Nari, I have a surprise for you,” Y/N calls out as she enters the room where the six-year-old girl is sitting on the hospital bed, colouring in her princess colouring book. She notices that the young girl’s father is with her and greets him politely with a slight bow of her head.  

Jeon Wonwoo, Nari's father, looks up from his phone and stands to return her greeting. “It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says, his voice reflecting the worry and exhaustion of a parent who has spent long hours in the hospital with his sick child. “Nari’s been talking about you non-stop since your last visit,” he adds. “She was so excited to learn that you used to do ballet.”  

Y/N smiles, her heart warming at the thought of Nari's excitement. It confirmed that she’s making the right choice in passing her once beloved doll down to the sweet little girl. “Well, speaking of ballet,” she says, pulling the ballerina doll with a pink tutu from behind her back and holding it out towards her. “I thought you might like this.” 

Nari’s eyes widen in excitement, her colouring book momentarily forgotten as Y/N passes the doll to her. “Wow! She’s so pretty!” Nari exclaims as a large smile makes its way onto her face. 

“Will you promise to take good care of her for me?” Y/N asks, her smile mirroring Nari's as she sits down across from her, her heart swelling with affection for the little girl. However, her smile dims as an unsettling chill fills the room. She senses a presence lingering in the doorway, and for a brief moment, it feels as if time has frozen. 

The atmosphere shifts, the warmth of the moment dissipating as Y/N's gaze drifts toward the entrance. A figure stands there, half-hidden in the shadow. The air grows thick with an unspoken tension, and Y/N's heart races as she tries to decipher the emotions swirling around her. 

“Y/N?” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through the silence, bringing her back to reality. He gazes at her with worry. “Are you okay?”  

She manages a smile, though it doesn’t fully reach her eyes, and nods. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay for long today,” she says, causing Nari to pout. Unbeknownst to Y/N, her visits have become one of Nari’s favourite parts about being in the hospital. “Since it's my day off from work tomorrow, I’ll be here much earlier than usual. You’ll be the first person I’ll come and see.”  

"You promise?" Nari asks, her expression a mix of hope and excitement as she holds up her tiny pinkie finger. 

"I promise," Y/N replies with a smile, linking her pinkie with Nari's and pressing their thumbs together, sealing their promise. The gesture brings a comforting warmth back into the room, yet an unsettling feeling still lingers in the air. Looking towards the doorway, she sees that the figure is no longer there. Trying to shake off the feeling, she turns her attention back on Nari. “I should get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?” 

After saying her goodbyes, she exits the room, the unsettling feeling following her as she walks down the corridor and exits the children's ward. The air around her starts to feel almost suffocating so she chooses to take the stairs instead of the confined unescapable space of the elevator. As she descends the stairwell, the unease turns into feeling of being followed, the presence heavy, dark and ominous. Half expecting to find the figure from the doorway, she looks behind her only to find no one there, living or dead. With her heart pounding against her chest and her footsteps echoing in her ears, she quickens her pace and reaches the next landing. There she stops for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself, her eyes never leave the stairs she just descended, wary of any spirit that might choose to show itself. 

After a brief moment, she braves herself and turns to continue her walk down the stairs, but just as she does, a sudden fright nearly sends her tumbling backward. A scream escapes her lips as another presence makes itself known, breaking the suffocating ominous feeling in an instant.  

"I knew you could see me!" he exclaims, his voice echoing off the walls. His eyes gleam with a wild intensity, a mixture of mischief and something deeper. "You can't pretend anymore." 

“What is with you ghosts sneaking up on me today,” she groans with a frown on her face.  

“I’m not a ghost,” the man insists. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you are a ghost,” she informs him, her voice tinged with exasperation. “That is why I can see you while no one else can.”  

“But I’m not dead,” he counters, frustration clear in his voice. 

“Yes, you are,” she replies, her gaze flicking nervously to the door off to the side, hoping no one decides to walk into the stairwell at that moment. 

“I’m not!” he argues, reaching for her wrist, only for his hand to pass right through her. He tries again, with the same result.  

Each time he does it, it sends a chill through Y/N’s body. “Would you stop?” she scolds him moving her wrist away. 

“I’m trying to show you that I’m not dead,” he growls as the fluorescent lights above them begin to flicker, his frustration and anger boiling over. He’d spent the week trying to get her attention, unable to communicate with anyone else. “Just... come with me.” His voice softens, a hint of vulnerability breaking through as he almost sounds like he’s pleading. “You have to believe me.” 

With that he turns on his heal, walking through the door. Y/N hesitates for a moment but there is something within that compels her to follow him. Her curiosity piqued; she walks closer to the door. Pushing the door open, she steps into a brightly lit corridor with an intensive care unit sign hanging from the ceiling. 

Y/N's heart races once again as she takes in the scene, her breath hitching in her throat. The ghosts are everywhere, some with solid forms, others with translucent forms flickering in and out of focus, some hover near the doors of the patients rooms, their expressions a haunting blend of hope and despair and others drift aimlessly, looking at nothing in particular.  

The distant beeping of machines and the soft murmur of voices fills her ears as she searches for the man that led her this way. She finally spots him standing before the automatic glass doors of the unit. 

Reaching into her bag, she pulls out her earbuds, sticking them into her ears and keeps her head down, avoiding eye contact with the other ghosts as she makes her way over to him. "I can't go inside," she tells him. 

"I'm right there," he says pointing to one of the cubicles at the back of the room. She can just make out the end of the bed, but she can't confirm if it’s really him. 

“If you’re not dead, how can I see you?” she asks, more to herself than him.  

"How should I know?" he replies anyway. "You see the others, right?"  

"But they’re already dead," she answers.  

"How can you be so certain?" he asks out of curiosity.  

"You think there’s someone in there in a coma from the Joseon Dynasty era?" she says, motioning towards the woman at the end of the hall, her face etched with worry. "I bet she’s here because she’s watching over someone in there. You’d be surprised how many ancestors show up to welcome their family member into the afterlife. It makes it less scary to cross over into that dimension." She pauses, her gaze drifting back to the woman, who stands with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "It’s like a welcoming committee," she continues. "They reassure them that they’re not alone and guide them over. It’s a beautiful thing, really.” 

His gaze turns to the woman, "So, you think that’s what’s happening here? That she’s just waiting for someone to join her so she can welcome them home?"

"It’s that, or she just doesn’t want her ancestor to be alone," she replies, her heart racing with the thrill of her own conviction. "It’s not just about the end of life. She could just be here watching over her entire bloodline, making sure they’re safe and healthy. It’s probably why she looks so worried.” 

“I guess you’ve been doing this a long time,” he says, turning his gaze towards her. 

“A very long time,” she sighs looking back inside the intensive care unit. “But this has never happened before. I’ve never seen or communicated with someone who’s in limbo.” 

Just as he opens his mouth to speak, someone calls out Y/N’s name. Her eyes widen as she turns, pulling her earbuds out. A blush creeps onto her cheeks as she greets the handsome man in a white coat. “Dr. Hong,” she says, bowing her head. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today” he smiles, causing Y/N’s heart to flutter and for a moment the situation she’s found herself in is a distant memory.  

“I—uh, I just dropped something off to Nari,” she stammers, feeling a little bashful. Joshua Hong, a doctor who transferred from America, seems to have that effect on anyone he comes across. There’s reason his nickname is the gentleman. He’s kind, polite and respectful to everyone, he doesn’t anger easily even in intense situations, and speaks with a soft, calming voice. He’s also incredibly handsome.  

She quickly snaps out of her little trance that she found herself in when the man who isn’t quite a ghost, loudly clears his throat from besides the doctor. Glancing at him, he doesn’t look impressed by the sudden interruption. Quickly looking back at Joshua, she continues “I-I also thought it would be a good time to stop by and see how my friend,” she looks out the corner of her eye at the man before focusing on the doctor again, “is doing.” 

“Who’s your friend?” Joshua asks, glancing down at the folders in his hands.  

“Uh-” she pauses, her eyes flickering between the doctor and the man she now realises she never got the name of. 

“Yoon Jeonghan,” he tells her. 

“Yoon Jeonghan,” she repeats and Jeonghan nods with a small triumphant smile. This is his chance to get some more answers. 

“I was handed his case this morning,” Joshua informs her. “I can’t really tell you anything but it’s a strange one. Just know that were doing everything we can to figure out what happened and why he won’t wake up.” 

“So, you don’t have anything?” she hears Jeonghan ask even though Joshua can’t hear him, the frustration from earlier resurfacing. “This is great,” he scoffs but his voice quickly turns to one of panic. “What if I’m like this forever? I can’t be like this forever.”  

“Oh,” she says, her look turning to one of sympathy when she hears the tone in Jeonghan’s voice. “Thank you for doing everything you can do,” she thanks Joshua. “Hopefully he wakes up soon.” 

“I hope so, too,” Joshua says reflecting her sympathy. “Well, I should get in there and start my rounds. It was good seeing you.” 

“You too,” she says, her heart not fluttering like it usually would when he said the last part. She watches him step inside the unit and make his way to the back of the room where Jeonghan pointed out the bed he was laying in. 

“Now you believe me,” he says and all she can do is nod. “Not even the doctors know what’s going on. What hope do I have if you don’t even know what’s going on?” he sighs, sounding defeated. “Maybe it all goes back to that weird guy. He must have done something to me. It’s the only explanation that I have.” 

“What weird guy?” she asks, now looking at him.  

“There was this weird guy that was leaning against my car, he was talking nonsense, then I passed out when I went to leave and woke up here, like this,” he explains. “He told me the person who can see me will know his name,” he adds looking at her, expectantly. 

“I don’t know anyone who would do that,” she tells him.  

“He also said something about the Gods,” he says, thinking back to the strange encounter.  

“The Gods?” she asks, surprised by his words. “If the God’s are involved, I’m not the person you’re looking for. I just see, feel and communicate with ghosts, that’s it.” 

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not exactly a ghost, am I? Yet, you can still see and talk with me.” 

“This- this is way above my pay grade,” she shakes her head, now trying to deny that this was happening. “Not that I get paid for it. I should go. I wish you luck with everything and I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”  

“You can’t leave-” Jeonghan starts as Y/N begins to walk away at a fast pace, trying her best to put distance between them.  

She steps inside the elevator, her eyes connecting with Jeonghan’s desperate ones, one last time before the doors close. 

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[calaisreno]

Yes and No

“Do you love her?”

It had taken them less than thirty minutes to go from the Rizla game to just asking each other random questions. The only celebrities that Sherlock knew were nineteenth-century chemists and twentieth-century criminals, which had more or less spoiled the game, and Sherlock had declared it pointless.

Then he suggested Yes or No, which at least required some deductive reasoning, and John agreed. But Sherlock was very good at this game, having deduced nearly everything about John in the first days of their acquaintance. Without asking any question, he deduced that John would choose violin, a human liver, Mrs Hudson’s nephew, and Sherlock’s old mouse-coloured dressing gown.

John gives up. “Fine. What don’t you know about me?”

Do you love her is a real question, he gathers— from the look on Sherlock’s face, which is serious and a bit sad.

The answer, which should be yes, of course I love her, instead comes out, “I’m marrying her.”

“People marry for reasons other than—“ Sherlock stops, appearing to realise he is going in a direction that can only lead to bad feelings. “Sorry, not a fair question. Better: When did you know that you loved her?”

He remembers grief. The intense pain of the days after he saw Sherlock die on the sidewalk in front of Barts. There are few details he can recall after that moment. It was as if the pain had receded just enough to let him breathe, and a kind of grey fog had descended. Pain, then sorrow.

Somewhere during the sorrow part, Mary had appeared. She may have been there sooner, but he hadn’t noticed. At some point he became aware of her bringing him coffee, talking to him, urging him to come out for lunch. Always there, cheerfully bullying him back into life. Eventually he noticed that he wasn’t quite as sad, and that she was rather pretty.

But the pain was still there, a tender spot in his memory, and most days he still felt defeated. Mary helped, though, and he thought that if she stayed, everything would be easier. He didn’t need to explain; she understood. He could keep the memories at bay when she was around.

By then he was having sex with her. He didn’t remember exactly how that had begun. Maybe it was a pity fuck one night when he’d had too much to drink. He woke up in her bed hungover, waiting for the darkness to descend like a weight on his chest, and she was there, making him a cup of tea, urging him to have some toast, sweetly solicitous and not accepting any excuses.

Does he love her?

Sherlock is still looking at him, the question in his eyes.

“She was there when I needed someone,” he says. “I just knew.”

He’d known that morning that he needed to move on, to leave what had happened in the past and live his life. And there she was.

“Your turn,” Sherlock says.

John thinks of all the things he’s ever wanted to know about Sherlock, but has never asked because it has never seemed a good time. Sherlock has a way of warding off questions with just a look. An armour that does not allow anyone in, not even John. He’s wondered about a lot of things, but asking has never been an option. Sherlock never has to ask; he simply deduces. John is terrible at deductions, as Sherlock often reminds him.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Sherlock doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Twice.”

“That was a yes-no question, so I get follow-up. So, the first. Who was he?”

Sherlock smiles. “You’re assuming it was a man.”

“Wasn’t it? I thought… you’re… erm…”

“Gay? Yes, I am.”

“You loved a man,” John says. Obviously.

“Well, a boy. I was twelve. I suppose it wasn’t love so much as infatuation and hormones. His name was Victor. I never told him until I met him again at uni.” He gives John one of those looks that makes him feel like he is being x-rayed. “Have you ever kissed a man?”

“I’m not gay,” he says at once. “I mean, why would I kiss a man if I knew I wasn’t gay?”

“Follow-up question, then. When did you know you were not gay?”

John’s mouth may have been open for a bit. It’s an odd question. Everybody knows they’re straight until something happens and they know they’re not. Isn’t that the way it works? “I just knew. When did you know you were gay?”

“When I was twelve. I was at a stupid birthday party my mother made me attend, and we were playing Forfeit. I was asked a question I didn’t like to answer and took the forfeit. Up until then the penalties were stupid things like singing a song or doing a dance, but this time it was kissing a girl. The girl was willing, and I was curious, so I agreed. That was when I realised girls weren’t my cup of tea, so to speak. I wanted to kiss Victor.”

John says nothing, though it’s his turn. He remembers a similar party, a boy who wanted to kiss him, and feeling terrified that his parents would find out if he did. Harry had just come out, and he was trying very hard to make up for all of her shortcomings.

Sherlock asks, “How do you know you’re not gay if you’ve never kissed a man?”

“I’ve kissed lots of women,” he replies. “I don’t need to kiss a man to know I’m not gay.”

Sherlock shrugs. “I assumed that I was like everyone else, that some day I would meet the right girl, get married, and have children. That was how it was supposed to work, and I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t like girls that way. All my fantasies were about boys, but I thought I would eventually be attracted to girls as I got older. That kiss told me I would never love a woman.”

“You think I should kiss a man just to see if I’m a bit gay?” He laughs.

“It’s your forfeit, for not having an answer.”

“I’m not going to kiss some random bloke just because you—“

“Not a random bloke. Me. Kiss me.”

This is dangerous ground. Somewhere in his libido lies something that he’s thought about. Maybe he’s even fantasised about kissing a man. Having sex with a man. Just a lark, maybe. Don’t lots of men go through that? It doesn’t mean anything.

But, Sherlock. He lived with him for a year and a half, and they’d been friends. And he grieved when Sherlock died. Not grieved like a friend. He’d lost friends before, and this was nothing like those losses. Pain, darkness, unending regret. Even after Mary, some of that darkness remained. Moments when he remembered something Sherlock had said or done, a stab of pain. If it hadn’t been for Mary—

And it came to him. Mary was balm for his wounds. She brought him back from the edge. He is grateful to her. But gratitude isn’t love. Being in such pain for so long, and then a bit of light— that isn’t love, it’s relief. He’s seen patients in physical pain become almost giddy when given a dose of something that takes their agony away, not even enough to make them high. Relief feels like intoxication when pain has gone on so long.

If it hadn’t been for Mary, he would have understood what he’d only begun to see. She helped him, saved him even. But she was a distraction from the pain, not a cure.

He glances at Sherlock, who is pulling back, looking like he wishes he hadn’t just asked for a kiss. Maybe he’ll make a joke about their game, move them towards goodnight, goodbye, see you at the wedding.

“Yes,” he says. It’s an answer to everything— regret, grief, sorrow, love. It’s an apology for not seeing sooner, for the night at the Landmark, for his anger and cruel rejection of the man he has loved for years. “Kiss me.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sherlock is right. The kiss tells John things he’s tried hard to forget. It tells him that has loved men before, but called it friendship, that he has wanted to touch men and kiss them, and called it lust, or fantasy, or a phase that all men go through. Women attract him too, and he grabbed onto heterosexuality like a life-raft because he was afraid of the alternative. His sister and his father, yelling. Harry thrown out of the house. His father, looking at him, saying not you too. Never you, my boy.

The kiss tells him that has already met the love of his life.

“I need to call Mary,” he says when they break away.

Sherlock looks sad. He nods. “Of course.”

“One more question,” John says. “Who was the second person you loved?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he says. “I’m about to call my fiancee and break our engagement just days before the wedding because I’m in love with my best friend. So please, answer the question.”

Sherlock’s face does something John has never seen. It crumples and tears fill his eyes, and then he’s laughing and crying and not able to speak.

John kisses him again.

Author note: This is an old ficlet, from Trifles, posted here.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember me? (Part 10)

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: hello babies! Please ignore any mistakes if you see one because I duchy have time to edit!

Anyways, I might write a readers pov of what was going on towards the end 😏

Enjoy!

(I'll edit the links in later 😉❣️)

•○🌑○•

Feyre's pov.

She chased after the two giggling boys, a smile on her face as she ignored the constant hammering on the mental shields she had around her mind. Laughed as she ignored the constant tugging on the bond that connected her to a male far away from her, the distance of courts separating two weeping hearts.

It had been a month since Feyre had winnowed into the Autumn Court Palace's doorstep, the sentries guarding the huge wood entrance startling at the sudden and impossible appearance of the high lady of the night court, tears streaming down her face, clutching the hand of a grinning three year old boy.

•○●⛦●○•

The night court heir looked around in wonder, his eyes going wide at the trees surrounding the magnificent Palace, his grin fading into a little o at the sheer size of it, a place that was gigantic to the little boy's eyes compared to the house he was used to.

Feyre sniffled, trying to stop the tears and be strong for her little boy who had yet to realise his mother was crying.

The sentries stood at attention after their initial shock faded, an armoured male stalking forward at the commotion, his lips parting as he realised that Feyre had winnowed directly inside the wards.

"Did you break the wards, cursebreaker?" The male, who Feyre assumed was the captain of the Guard, spat the title out like it was a curse, something to be ashamed of.

And Feyre was beginning to think that maybe it was.

Feyre had just opened her mouth to respond, to clear any misunderstandings, but another voice beat her to it.

"The high lord gave her permission to enter."

The male froze, his head lowering in deference as he turned to look at the owner of the voice.

She stood in a simple silk robe, her shoulders thrown back, the chilled night breeze gently whispering through her unbound hair, her cheecks red.

Y/n.

It seemed like a month in the autumn court had done her good.She looked more beautiful, making it unable to look away from her. Or maybe she had just become more confident, the worries weighing down her shoulder gone as she stood straight backed, her clear and bright eyes unblinking and unflinching as she stared down at the guard whose head was still lowered.

"The cursebreaker you are talking to is a friend, and you would do well to remember that."

Finally, Feyre looked away from Y/n long enough to glance at the new arrival, and had to resist the urge to cock an eyebrow.

Eris stood next to Y/n, his eyes blazing, hair sticking up in places as if he had been tugging at it and then hastily smoothed it back. He was shirtless, leaving all the mouth watering expanse of smooth, pale skin covering the rippling muscle underneath on display.

Though that was not what made Feyre curious.

The hand he had wrapped around Y/n's shoulders was.

Feyre met the eyes of her friend, who glanced at Eris for a long moment before shrugging out of his grip. He reluctantly lowered his arm, hurt flashing over his russet eyes before he covered it up.

Now Feyre was intrigued. Though the drilling of all the details Feyre wanted to know from Y/n would have to wait.

"Uncle Eris!" Nyx giggled, sprinting towards the red headed male, who tore his eyes from Y/n, grinning and opening his arms for the boy.

"Hello Nyx. How are you?"

"I'm good! Where is Fin?"

"He is sleeping. Come, I will take you to his room. I have already placed a bed next to his, so you can sleep in his room."

Nyx squealed happily as Eris carried him away with a last look at Y/n.

Feyre turned to Y/n, who approached her with a sad smile.

"I had hoped this day would never come." Y/n whispered, reaching out to grasp Feyre's hand.

"Me too."

•○●⛦●○•

Fin turned a corner, screeching in happiness, and Nyx followed.In the whole month Feyre and Nyx had been away from the night court, Nyx had never once asked about his father, so busy was he in spending his time with Fin.

His brother.

Feyre also followed the little boys, skidding to a stop when her eyes landed on a sight that she would describe as... funny.

Eris had his head practically shoved down a vase, inspecting the flowers potted in it, while Y/n stood a few feet away, caressing her fingers along the wall next to her in the alcove she was standing in, as if the wall felt lonely and she was soothing it with a gentle touch.

And both their cheeks were red, and the only way to describe the color was the red of an angry fire.

Y/n turned to her son and his brother giving them a dazzling smile as they ran up to her.

"Auntie Y/n! Do you want to play with us?"

Fin jumped eagerly at Nyx's question, and Y/n nodded, sparing a glance at Eris, who still couldn't find the brain he had dropped into the vase.

"Come, we have a few hours before dinner time, so we can play."

The children cheered, then grabbed each of Y/n's hands and began dragging her away.

With a last glance at Eris, who now stared at the retreating form of Y/n with a look Feyre couldn't decipher, she followed the kids and her friend.

She would have to pester Y/n for details of what was going on between her and Eris soon.

•○🌑○•

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