#when one second stretched on to eternity just for the sake of me getting that power

[lightlyblooming]

What if it wasn't a joke?

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: What if Natasha’s teasing wasn’t a joke? 

Words: 2.1k

I tapped my fingers on the glossy wooden table in front of me, following the tempo of the conversation around me. The cacophony of voices flitted through my mind, going in one ear and out the other. 

What was supposed to be a swift debriefing with the rest of the Avengers had stretched into its third hour. I’d lost my patience two and a half hours ago when Tony Stark started talking about possible technological improvements he could add to the Avenger’s headquarters. It had only gone down from there.

I stared down at my leather folder opened on the table, letting out a slightly too-loud sigh when I saw the two sentences of notes I’d managed to put down. Only two sentences of actually useful information. Three hours, two sentences. Three hours for two sentences. 

My fingers curled into a fist. I picked up my pen, if only so that my frustration wouldn’t show. I hovered the pen over the clean piece of paper, but that only caused my anger to grow because there wasn’t anything to write.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I dropped the pen, grateful for the distraction.

I leaned back in my chair and pulled out my phone, ignoring the sidelong glance I got from Steve Rogers. Phones technically weren’t allowed during meetings, but confidential information had stopped being shared hours ago. I doubted it’d matter if I leaked a conversation over what type of flavoured water they wanted in the lounge this month.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I read the notification that lit up the screen. 

Natasha: Busy daydreaming about me?

I raised my eyes to Natasha, my smile growing further when I noticed she had already been watching me. Her blue eyes twinkled with humour, but her features betrayed nothing. Her expression was just as blank, severe, and stoic as it had been for the last few hours.

Natasha only held my eyes for a handful of moments before she turned away, returning her steady attention to the conversation.

I texted back: I’m just thinking about how this meeting could’ve been an email.

Natasha picked up her phone a few moments later. Her expression didn’t change, and I was too far away to notice any other minor changes. I looked back to the nearly blank paper in front of me. 

Every second I spent waiting for her response felt like an eternity. I started to tap my fingers again.

After what felt like forever, my phone buzzed.

Natasha: I wouldn’t have seen you if it was an email.

A second later, she added: And I do enjoy watching you when you’re frustrated.

My eyes shot to her. She merely stared back at me, watching, waiting. I blinked at her, hoping she’d offer any kind of reaction for me to read. Instead, she picked her phone up, her fingers moving across the screen.

I lowered my eyes to the paper and put my phone on the empty sheet. I placed my elbow on the table and rested my head in my hand. My leg, the traitorous thing, started to bounce. My body tensed with every moment that passed. My breaths grew shallow as I waited for that screen to light up.

What was taking her so long? She had to be writing an essay if it was taking her this long to finish. I couldn’t help but wonder if she liked leaving me waiting.

My heart skipped when the screen lit up, only for it to drop deep into my gut when I read the text.

Natasha: It’s even better when you get flustered and start blushing.

I shut off my phone and shoved it into my pocket.

My head thundered in my chest as heat prickled on my cheeks. I silently cursed myself for playing right into her hand. 

It wasn’t like it was a surprise. She’d joke far too often about how easy it was to throw me off and the enjoyment she got from it wasn’t a secret. She always pushed it and tested it, seeing what measure of responses she could get. One glance. One smile. One whispered word. One step too close. A touch that lingered too long. For fuck’s sake, one sentence that toed the line between friendly banter and flirtatious teasing would leave me dumbed down and unable to speak for hours.

I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair, hating the way I shook. I focused on my breaths, reread those two stupid sentences written on the paper. I willed the heat to fall from my face. I counted through my breathing. I picked up my pen and clicked it over and over again.

I was a fool for being affected by her. It was nothing. It meant nothing. It was a game to her, just a way to fill time and push away excruciating boredom.

I reminded myself of all those moments Natasha had toyed with me, only to pull away a moment later. 

I remembered the hours we had spent crouched in some dark hole, waiting out a mission, her faint touches oh-so-clear in the pitch black. I recalled the way she had looked at me days later when I had brought it up, her face flush with confusion and eyes so cold it was like looking at a stranger. 

I remembered the first time we’d exchanged personal numbers after becoming part of the Avengers. It had only been a handful of years since we’d worked together in the Red Room, yet she treated me like she’d never seen me before.

I remembered the hours of texting we’d do in those fluid hours of the night when time lost all meaning. Then the absence of contact in the morning, followed by stilted small talk that’d build a chasm between us. 

I glanced over at Natasha. My heart stung when I saw her stoic expression fixed on Wanda Maximoff.

I closed the folder and got to my feet. The rest of the Avengers at the table glared at me, but I ignored them. There was no reason for me to stay. The important parts of the meeting were done. I hadn’t needed to chime in for well over an hour. And I didn’t feel like torturing myself with Natasha’s cold distance for any longer.

⧗

I stirred my half-melted cocktail with the metal straw. The metal clicked against the glass. A chill wind brushed over my skin and rustled my hair, causing goosebumps to prickle along my arms. 

The Avengers compound had long since settled into its peaceful night operations. All the lights had been dimmed, the large mass of day staff had been sent home or to their rooms, the headache-inducing sound of jets coming and going had finally stopped. These small hours of the night were the only time I got any solitude. 

I watched the tarmac from the balcony, taking in the quinjets that had been left out and the skeleton crew that maintained them.

They always had to be ready, waiting, should the sky fall open and the Avengers had to be on the other side of the world in an hour. I always had to be ready to answer the call, be prepared for anything at any moment. I hadn’t even left the compound for a non-Avengers related reason for… months. It was too risky.

I looked down at the cocktail in my hand and braced my arm against the balcony railing. I sighed and pursed my lips at it.

Despite the small amount of alcohol I’d had, I could feel the warmth of drunkenness spreading through my limbs and a delightful buzz that clouded my mind. I was already too far gone to fly, or fight, or do any amount of strategic thinking. Drinking more would only multiply that and make my recovery take longer. If there was an emergency and I got called out--

The door to the balcony softly clicked open and I whipped my head around, muscles going taught. 

The moment I laid my eyes on Natasha, who stood silently in the doorway, I let out a breath and allowed my shoulders to slump. The warm glow of the Avenger’s lounge silhouetted her form and took the sharp edges out of her appearance. 

She almost seemed vulnerable there, in her sweatpants and loose t-shirt. Her hair had been pulled back into a braid. The light caught the loose strands of her hair, making it look like strings of spun gold. My eyes couldn’t help but wander to the smooth plane of her neck. I couldn’t stop the prying thoughts that wondered how it would feel, how it would taste, if she’d just let me get close enough.

I pressed my lips closed and squeezed my eyes. I gave myself a moment to breathe and settle my system before I turned around and fixed my eyes on the cocktail cradled in my hands.

The stupid drink, wiping away every ounce of self-preservation I had.

The door clicked shut and Natasha walked up beside me, bracing her arms on the railing, mirroring my position. A beer bottle hung from her fingers, dangling precariously over the distant ground. Natasha took a swig and from the sound of it, she was quite far into her drink as well. At least I wasn’t the only intoxicated one.

I sipped at my now fully melted cocktail. I winced at the overwhelmingly sweet liquid. Without the ice to break up the taste, it had turned into a cloying mixture of syrup and rum.

“Too hard for you?” Natasha’s voice was low and heavy. 

Her voice tugged at something deep in the pit of my gut. My heart fluttered in my chest and my breaths shuddered. Heat prickled at my cheeks, and I prayed that Natasha thought it was because of the alcohol. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes and knew my prayers had fallen upon deaf ears when I saw the teasing tilt to her lips.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the illusion of sanctity the darkness granted, but the truth came out before I could even consider filtering my words, “A bit.”

Natasha’s ghost of a smile grew into a full-on grin. Her voice dipped into a sultry drawl that raked along my bones, “You should let me buy you a drink some time. I can show you what hard feels like.”

My hand tightened around the glass. I opened my mouth, prepared to spit out one of the million scripted rejections I had tucked in the back of my mind, but stopped short.

I schooled my features and turned towards Natasha. I took in her stance: her relaxed shoulders, fingers that fidgeted with the rim of the beer bottle, her ram-rod straight back, her attentive eyes, her welcoming smile, the way her head tilted just-so. She was expectant, waiting, and… nervous? A furrow ghosted in the space between her brows. Tiny fragments of uncertainty flashed across her face.

I swallowed and stared into her eyes. I tapped my thigh with my free hand. Silence stretched between us. My muscles tensed with every second that crept by.

I was such an idiot. A fool. My hesitation revealed more than I ever wanted Natasha to know. My growing silence stripped me bare and made me more naked than I would’ve been if I had merely removed my clothes. 

“Or--” Natasha’s words were slow, hesitant, searching, “--you can buy me one of those cocktails you always get, we can get drunk, and I can stop calling you a lightweight.”

I pressed my lips together and searched Natasha’s expression. All I found was a gentle vulnerability. There was teasing, yes, but behind all that was an openness I’d never seen in her before. 

What if, this time, it was a genuine offer? What if I said yes? Would she take me to a bar, let me order her a drink, and end the night with more than a painfully professional handshake? Or would she laugh and back off, making me look like a fool for even considering the offer?

My mind was too clouded to make a clear choice. I couldn’t discern anything more from her expression. I couldn’t calculate all the possible responses. 

I let out a shuddering breath and, with the type of courage I could only get from the alcohol coursing through my system, said, “Only if you promise to show me the best places.”

Natasha let out a breath and straightened. All signs of tension smoothed from her face. A light seemed to spark in her eyes, bringing a glowing warmth to her features. 

“Promise,” Natasha said, her voice strung with the softness and truth in her oath. 

[aria0fgold]

Wait my dream just sink in, I woke up feeling confused and now that I processed everything, I really just dreamt bout being stuck in a loop within a moment and dying several times. On my birthday. Well, that's a good sign.

Like, my dream started out with me, my sis, and some random lil boy I don't know but somehow in that dream he's supposed to be my lil brother. My sis was driving the motorcycle from... behind us somehow? Like, normally the driver is in the front but in my dream, the kid was in the front, then me, and my sis was at the back. We still managed anyway so that's good.

One of the paths we took, basically a shortcut was a lil too small and bumpy for the motorcycle and also the people around us warned us that it's deadly for kids to take so they took the lil boy to take the longer path to our house while my sis and I took that shortcut on foot. That path had dead fish on the ground, but the fishes don't even look real anyway, they look like a plastic toy. And when we got out, two dinosaurs emerged from it. One very tiny trex. and a big bronchiosaurus. They're harmless though.

Like, I was standing off to the side and my sis wanted to get back in the path to look for a gift for me but the big dino wasn't wanna let her pass in a playful way like a dog. The tiny dino was like a cat too. And while look at em from the distance I remembered that I found a small heart-shaped stone on the wall on that path. I took it out and was observing it, then I held it up to the moon and it suddenly shattered. When it did though, some strange power entered my heart and my consciousness was brought to another world that had lasers shooting at me with various speeds, locked doors that I gotta unlock by doing a puzzle, and a dragon roaming around that'd chase and kill me.

And the thing here, everytime I die, my heart would beat VERY LOUDLY once, and then I'm back from the very beginning. So it's like a signal that I died and restarted. Bad thing is that it Hurts. So not only do I die a terrible death either by lasers or a dragon, I'd still end up getting hurt by my own heart. And I just kept dying over and over and over, until I finally got to the end only to be greeted by a guy (which I felt like was one of my blorbos but can't tell cuz he was in the shadows) in a square room but had a short hallway in the middle of one of the sides and that hallway had a tv with Shinchi's (from dcmk) silhouette on it.

But before I could observe the room longer, the guy turned the lights off which made the entire place pitch black, even the tv too, I couldn't see anything. And the guy pinned me down, covered my mouth and said: I won't plunge the knife into your neck until you took a deep breath 10 times. See, aren't I nice?

And I'm like: "Damn... So to get outta the loop I gotta be killed by this guy in the end?" So, I just nodded. But the thing here... Whenever I took a deep breath, my heart gonna do that thing again and beat very loudly. So it hurts each time, my blorbo in the dark aint nice at all (as if the fact that he gonna kill me wasn't proof enough). Then by the 3rd time I did it, I remembered the tv and also how I kept seeing it nearly every area I been to in that godforsaken place. And I was like: Maybe that's important?

I don't remember how I managed to distract the guy, but I did, and I rushed to where I remembered the tv to be before everything got dark and when I reached it, Shinichi grabbed my hand and pulled me into the tv which was also how I finally got out of the loop. Like, in that place it felt like I've been there forever, but in reality, not even a minute had passed. And then I felt a power in my heart. And for some reason? a small explanation entered my brain which is like, if I had let the guy killed me, the power I'd get would be different and a lot risky (like there'd be some sorta debuff if I used it) But if I escaped him then the power I'd get would be better and a lot "pure" in a way (like that power has no debuff and is just overall better).

So yeah, I think that's a good sign both sarcastically and truthfully. Like, getting stuck in a loop and dying several times aint a good sign, but getting a power at the end was a good sign.

[yooniivrse]

accidental meetings | myg

summary. navigating through awkward apologies and shared meals with your cute neighbour may promise more than just an unlikely friendship.

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pairing: yoongi x f!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: alcohol consumption

a/n: (this note has been edited) this was supposed to be oneshot and it ended up being apart of a mini-series…idk how we got here, but here we are :> hope you guys enjoy reading!!

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Your knuckles rapped against the door rhythmically for the second time.

Your eyes were unfocused and blurry and you could barely stand properly, having to hold onto the wall to prevent yourself from stumbling.

Everyone knew that going out to drink on an empty stomach was a bad idea. The lack of food had let the alcohol take its effect on you much sooner than you had anticipated, and your stomach lowly grumbled at the lack of food.

But when Maya—your roommate—had eagerly dragged you out of your dorm as soon as you returned from dropping all of your study materials back at the library, you didn't have the heart to say no.

A part of you also wanted to celebrate the end of your exams differently. Usually, the end of exam season meant catching up on all the shows you sacrificed watching to study. But going out for drinking also seemed fun.

You regretted your decision the moment Maya abruptly left the club with a random tatted-up guy, leaving you alone amidst the sea of drunk strangers and sweaty bodies. You too, left soon after, not wanting to deal with any creeps that could sour your happy mood.

How you managed to get home in one piece, you weren't sure. You were sure, however, that you had paid the taxi driver double the amount that was due. The overwhelming need to fall into the comforts of your bed seemed to have dulled your thinking, which is why your only annoyance grew with every second that you spent outside your dorm, waiting for Ari—your other roommate—to let you inside.

"Yah, Ari! Let me in you freak!"

You brought your hand up to knock again when the door swung open.

"Fuck's sake, Ari, thought you—hic—thought you were gonna lock me out forev-."

Your slurred words are cut short when your gaze is lifted from the ground to the man who stood in front of you.

His hand rubbed at his eye while his other roughly ran through his hair in an attempt to tame the dark, tousled locks. He stared at you with furrowed brows.

You tilted your head to the side and squinted your eyes.

"Did you shape-shift or something? What's up with yo—hic—your hair?"

You stepped closer to the stranger and reached out your hand when it dawned on you, hands freezing a few centimetres in front of his hair.

"Shit. You're not Ari, are you?"

The stranger shook his head.

"No, sorry. I think you got the wrong apartment."

His voice was deep and hoarse, still laced with sleep. You felt a pang of guilt in your stomach for waking him up in the middle of the night.

"But the door says seventeen though?"

You blinked blankly at him and another small hiccup escaped you as he looked up at the door. You followed his gaze to the bronze numbering which read seven and not seventeen.

"Shit, 'm so sorry for waking you up, I swear that it said seventeen, I'm really sorry."

Your hands came together in front of you as more apologies tumbled last your lips. Honestly, you barely knew what you were saying, but you felt your embarrassment taint your cheeks with a familiar warmth.

"It's fine, don't worry."

The man's words were awkward and you mumbled a final apology before you moved away. Your apartment was only ten doors down, but the carpeted hallway seemed to stretch out for an eternity. You couldn't deny the eerie feeling that clung to the cold lights and caused small goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Fuck, you had seriously lost it.

You took a few steps with your hands dragging across the pale walls.

"Actually, do you want me to bring you down to your door?"

You look back to see the boy who had already closed his door behind him as he made his way to you. His skin was pale and it almost seemed to glow now that he had emerged from the shadows of his apartment.

Or maybe he was your guardian angel, and a ring of light was going to appear above his head. You were seriously considering the possibility. Why else would a random stranger be so kind to you?

"You really don't—hic—have, I've already disturbed you enough."

"I don't want to worry about you passing out in the hallway. I'm not sleepy anymore anyway, so it's fine."

You gave him an apologetic, timid smile.

"Thank you, uh-."

"Yoongi."

"Yoongi," you repeated. The words bounced off your tongue with ease.

You moved closer to him and ended up clinging to his arm instead of the walls. He lightly froze at your sudden touch but you don't notice.

Your steps are weak but you managed to get to your apartment with the help of his body that guided you.

Yoongi knocked on the door for you and Ari opened it within a few seconds.

"Ariiii!"

You tumbled into her hands and wrapped your arms around her in an uncomfortable embrace.

"Oh my God, ___?" Ari's eyes moved from you to the brunette who stood outside.

"Thank you so much! I'm very sorry if they said something," Ari said, offering the man an apologetic smile.

"No worries, it's fine." His hands rubbed against the back of his neck softly. "Have a good night."

"You too."

She closed the door sharply and Yoongi heard her voice scolding you as you simply giggled. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back to his apartment, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

He knew that he had seen you before—you were too memorable for him to forget. But to his frustration, he couldn’t exactly place when and where.

A small sigh left his lips as he knocked on his door. Leaving his keys inside wasn't ideal and he hoped that Jungkook would wake up to his knocks and let him in. However, he couldn't bring himself to regret walking you down the hallway or blame you for possibly being stuck outside for the rest of the night.

Instead, he found himself wishing to meet you again.

────

The elevator doors opened smoothly and you stepped outside, heaving a heavy bag of groceries in your arms. You supported the bottom of the thin plastic, begging the universe to not curse you and cause the plastic to rip a few doors away from your apartment. 

It had happened before and you still remembered the awkwardness in the air as you scrambled to grab a pack of pads as a group of boys walked past.

You scrunched up your nose and squeezed your eyes as the memory brought waves of embarrassment to course through you. You shook off the feeling as you began to walk along the empty hallway.

Except, it wasn’t exactly empty. Your eyes fell on a boy who sat crouched on the floor with his back against the wall. His dark hair fell in loose waves over his forehead and you noticed a silver earring that lightly glistened on one of his ears. You were sure that if it weren’t for the plaid, red shirt he wore, you would have missed his presence completely.

You unknowingly tilted your head to the side. His features were oddly familiar, from the curve of his nose to the shape of his narrow eyes and his plump bottom lip. 

He was pretty, you wouldn’t deny that. Even with the defeated look on his face.

As you got closer to his figure, realisation dawned on you. This was the guy who helped you to your apartment less than a few days ago.

You felt your cheeks turn warm.

You would’ve speed-walked to your apartment to avoid another possibly embarrassing encounter if it weren’t for the fact that his eyes had already met yours.

His eyebrows rose slightly in recognition and he immediately pushed himself to his feet and cleared his throat awkwardly.

You lick your lips before giving him a small smile. It was already too late to try and pretend you hadn’t seen him, so you went with the only option you had left; to walk over to him.

“Hi,” you said, keeping a smile on your face.

“Uh- hi.”

You had never wished for the ground to swallow you up more than you did at that moment. You were usually good with making awkward atmospheres comfortable, and you had no idea why your brain seemed to be malfunctioning.

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I ever got a chance to apologise to you properly for waking you up that night. I genuinely am sorry, I usually know my limits with alcohol and I don’t know what happened that day,” you said with a dry chuckle. 

Yoongi’s eyes crinkle into a soft smile and you swore that you felt your heart skip a beat. 

“And thank you so so much for bringing me to my apartment, I swear I would’ve ended up sleeping in the middle of the hallway if it weren’t for you!”

“It was nothing, don’t worry.” Yoongi waved his arm in the air as if he were swatting away your words. “I’m glad that I was able to prevent you from sleeping in the hallway.”

You both laughed and you noticed the way his smile stretched out to reveal his gums.

“Oh, I don’t think I got a chance to introduce myself. I’m ___.”

You shifted your groceries to one arm as you outstretched your other. Yoongi took it, his grip soft as he shook your hand. The touch lingered for a few seconds longer than it should have and even as you pulled back, you felt the ghost of his skin on yours.

“So, uh- what are you doing sitting outside your apartment?”

“Ah, that-.” He brought his hand to rest against the back of his neck sheepishly. “-I kinda got locked out. I don’t bother taking the keys since my roommates are usually home, but they’re out today and none of them are picking up their phone.”

As he spoke, his eyes glanced down at his phone. You noticed the array of cracks that spread across the black screen, mimicking the intricate pattern of a cobweb.

“Oh, I think know how you can get in.”

You had learned the hack from an action book you had read a few years ago. As you placed down your bag of groceries against the wall and fished out your wallet, you hoped that the hack wasn’t something that only worked in movies and books.

You looked through your cards and picked out the first unimportant-looking one you found, which happened to be a voucher for the new restaurant that had opened a few blocks down from your apartment complex.

You stepped forward and slid the card into the crack of the door where the handle was as Yoongi watched in curiosity.

You pressed down the card. It took more strength than you anticipated, as the lock didn’t move an inch. You tried again and you felt Yoongi take a step closer to you.

You begged the universe to be on your side. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of the only cute guy who had made an effort to talk to you.

“It’s fine, I can just wai-.”

The card slid down and a small click was heard as it pushed the lock back into the door.

“I can’t believe that worked,” you said, disbelief laced in your voice. However, the joy from your success was short-lived as the door opened up and your plastic card fell to the floor in small pieces.

“Oh my god, thank you so much, seriously.”

The excitement in Yoongi’s voice died down as soon as you turned back to look up at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“No problem.”

“I’m sorry about the card,” he said and it was your turn to swat away his apologies.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I owed you anyway. I guess we’re even now.”

Yoongi nodded and stepped inside. He picked up the pieces of plastic from the ground and handed it to you, noticing the broken lettering which he worked out to spell the name of the new restaurant that had opened up nearby.

You picked up your bag of groceries from the floor.

“Again, thank you. See you around,” he said with a small wave of his hand.

“Bye!” You mimicked the wave.

Yoongi couldn’t ignore the pang of guilt that twisted in his stomach as he watched you walk away. The restaurant wasn’t exactly fancy, but it was expensive enough for a college student. He softly shut the door and brought his bottom lip between his teeth in thought.

Maybe he could make it up to you.

────

Yoongi was the last person you expected to be greeted by outside your door on a Tuesday evening. But there he stood, sporting a plain, white t-shirt under a denim jacket.

“Oh, hi! Was not expecting you,” you said. You didn’t realise how unwelcoming the words sounded until they tumbled from your lips, but Yoongi didn’t seem to catch on.

“Yeah, uh- Look, I couldn’t help but feel guilty that you broke your voucher tryna help me so I got you this as an apology.”

He held out a brown, paper bag in front of him and you realise that the lettering printed on it read the name of the restaurant. You caught a glimpse of the plastic packaging of takeaway which confirmed your suspicions.

“Yoongi, I couldn’t possibly take this. I helped you out because you helped me out, and the voucher wasn’t even that big of a deal, genuinely!”

You reached out your hand to push the bag towards him again, but his grip persisted.

“Please?”

The word fell from his lips softly, almost a whisper, and you felt your heart skip a few beats. His eyes fell on yours for a split second before he broke his gaze. You didn’t have it in you to reject his kind gesture, but at the same time, you felt guilty if you did accept it.

“What about we share it? That makes it fair, right?”

“I- I don’t know-.”

“Please?” You’re voice mimicked his tone from when he had spoked the exact same word. “I’ll feel too guilty if I just take it. My roommates are both out for the night, so we can eat it together if you want.”

Yoongi hesitated, but the idea of spending time with you felt nice.

“Okay.”

Your lips curled into a bright smile as you invited him inside. Yoongi waited for you to close and lock the door, and followed you as you led him to your kitchen. He placed the paper bag onto the smooth, marble countertop as you pulled out two plates from the white cabinets that stretched up to the ceiling.

You began to take out all the containers and spread them out over the counter.

“There’s so much bro, I would not have been able to finish this,” you said with a smile that Yoongi returned.

“I mean, you could’ve shared it with your roommates.”

“Mhm, I guess. I rather share it with you though.”

The tips of Yoongi’s ears turned pink as he let out a timid chuckle. Honestly, you didn’t know what gave you the confidence, but you enjoyed the reactions you garnered from the brunet boy.

He helped you as both of you filled your plates with food. The aroma that easily spread across the kitchen made your mouths water, and you dug in as soon as you brought over chopsticks and spoons for the two of you.

“Damnn, this is good,” you said with a moan of satisfaction. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth as you spoke and Yoongi hummed in agreement. His own eyes fluttered shut as he savoured the taste.

“So, what do you do?” You asked before putting another spoonful of food into your mouth.

“I’m in a band. That’s why I moved here, actually. The other members thought we’d be more productive if we all lived together but I’m starting to doubt that."

You chuckle. “A band? Damn, that’s so cool."

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders. “I mean it is and I love all the members and all but...it can get tiring sometimes, y’know.”

Even though you couldn’t exactly relate to him, you nodded understandingly with a hum.

“You should play me one of your songs!”

“Uh- no.”

You shot him a scowl at his immediate rejection of the idea.

“Whyy? I won’t judge, I swear.”

Yoongi closed his eyes with a playfully pained expression on his face as you practically begged him for a chance to listen to one of his songs.

“I’ll show it to you eventually. Maybe.”

“Yah! No maybes, you’re definitely showing it to me next time!”

Next time. Yoongi couldn’t wait for the next time he could see you again.

A smooth conversation ensued after you both had taken a few more bites of the food. You felt oddly comfortable in front of him. You didn’t feel the need to cover your mouth when you laughed or hold back on your words, didn’t feel the need to hide away any part of yourself.

You felt like you could be yourself, and the feeling was strange. It caused a tug of warmth in your heart.

Soon enough, both of you had scoffed most of the food. You began to store the rest of the takeaway in sealed bowls and Yoongi moved to the dishes in the sink.

“Ah, you can just leave them, I’ll do them later,” you said, but Yoongi washed them anyway. A part of you was grateful that he did, as washing the dishes was one of your least favourite chores.

You took the plates he had rinsed and placed them into the dishwasher. Silence filled the air, only broken by the quiet ticking of the clock that hung on your wall, but the atmosphere was far from tense or awkward. Neither of you felt the need to try to start a random conversation and simply focused on the tasks at hand.

“Thanks so much, for the food and the cleaning up. I really do appreciate it!” You said as you wiped your hands dry on a small cloth.

“It’s no problem, really.”

You opened the door for him as he slipped into his shoes.

“We need to actually go to the restaurant someday, get the full experience y’know?”

Yoongi smiled with a nod.

“We can arrange a day over the phone if you want?”

“I’d love that!”

Yoongi fished out his phone from the back pocket of his darkly coloured jeans in an instant and typed in your number as you called it out to him.

“See you soon, ___.”

“Byee.”

You gave a quick wave of your hand which he returned before he began walking back down to his apartment. You couldn’t hide the content smile on your face as closed the door, eagerly grabbing your phone from the counter.

Yoongi sent you a text less than a minute later, and you added his number to your contacts.

You too couldn’t wait for the next time.

[swordlux]

Xiao's Longing - Xiao x Reader

A short headcanon featuring our lovely adeptus. Originally posted on AO3

~~~

“Missed me…? Huh…” His thoughtful gaze explores the grass before returning back to you. “This feeling. Tell me more about it.” ~~~ Xiao's Longing

Xiao looked out at the rolling hills of Teyvat with a strange feeling in his chest. It was a feeling that had persisted ever since the day he’d met you. Xiao was used to battling intense, and often dark feelings, but something about this was different. It was as if his chest would burn up and devour him if he didn’t see you within a certain time frame. The more he tried to fight it, the more it seemed to grow.

He began to see your face everywhere he looked. In the blue waters of Liyue Harbor, in the valleys of Qingce Village, in the sweet fog of Qingyun Peak. Currently, it was projected in the sky like a second sun. He wondered what you were doing at the moment, if you were out getting yourself into trouble, or making new acquaintances as you so easily do. Part of him—a small part—hoped that the former was the case, because it meant he would have a reason to see you and to ease this unbearable ache in his chest.

It had been a few weeks since you’d last met, but those weeks had felt like months to the Vigilant Yaksha. The days between your meetings stretched longer and longer, and every day Xiao would try to think up an excuse to see you. He was never one to indulge in something just because it pleased him. Spending time with someone for the sake of spending time with them was something he couldn’t justify. And yet…

“Why do I still think about you every day?” He said. He sighed, letting the wave of emotions pass out and with the wind.

He stood up from the cliffside, deciding to take out his feelings at the nearest slime hotspot—and that was when he heard it.

It was the call he had been waiting for.

In reality, the sound was the gentlest of whispers, no more than that of the wind passing through the petals of a Qingxin flower. But to Xiao, it resonated across the land like thunder.

It was you. You were calling his name.

***

“Xiao.” The name falls out of your lips as natural as sap out of a tree. You can’t remember what made you say it, but you know you must’ve been thinking about him. You know because your chest hums with the same warmth as it always does when the great Adeptus comes to your mind.

The truth is, Xiao has never left your mind. Not since the moment you first saw those kind amber eyes.

Every day you spend apart feels like an eternity. And every day you wonder about throwing yourself into dangerous situations, just so you'll have a reason to call his name.

Today however, is different. Today you aren’t even thinking up ways to get the Adeptus to come. Today it just happens.

“Xiao.”

He is there not a second after the name leaves your lips. His strong form stands tense, his amber eyes glow with concern.

You blink in shock, and then you remember the promise he made to you—every time you call his name, he would appear.

The embarrassment you would normally feel in this moment is quickly overcome by the intense joy of seeing his face. No matter the reason, he’s here. Just as you’d been wishing for.

“Xiao,” you say, as if speaking to an apparition from a dream, “You’re here.”

His brow lowers at your obvious statement. “I promised I would come any time you called my name.” He sighs, letting the hidden tones of desperation slip out of his voice. “So, what is it? You don’t seem to be in any trouble.”

“Oh, right…” Just hearing the smooth tones of his voice has your head in a daze. It takes a moment for you to fully process his question, and then another to realize you don’t have an answer for it. “Uhm, it’s nothing really. I’m fine.”

He sighs deeper. The sound washes over your body like a sweet remedy for your heart.

Your moment of bliss only lasts a moment before you remember his tendency to disappear as quickly as he had come once he finds himself of no further use.

“Wait!” you cry, hoping to catch him before he has a chance to do that. “Don’t go yet!”

He seems to pause; the very particles of his body slowing. This subtle change in energy confirms your suspicions—he was preparing to make a quick dash before you stopped him.

Xiao studies your face for a moment and then sighs again. “If you have no urgent need of me, then I have other matters to—”

“This is urgent!”

Shock. It’s an expression you’d never imagine to see on Xiao’s face, but you get it now. His amber eyes open wide, and for a second you catch a bit of light behind those dark curtains. But it disappears in a flash, the curtains closing once more.

“Well, what is it then?” he says. Though still serious, his voice has softened a bit. It’s just enough to allow you to speak your thoughts honestly.

“Err– well…the truth is… I missed you.”

The moment the words are out you regret them. You’re sure you’ve done it now—you’ve found a way to send him off and ensure he never comes back again.

You prepare for the backlash comment, but instead of snapping, he just looks wistfully off to the side. “Missed me…? Huh…” His thoughtful gaze explores the grass before returning back to you. “This feeling. Tell me more about it.”

“What?“ For a second you’re sure he must be joking. But the look in his eye is simply inquisitive. “Oh…” you continue, “Well it’s like… like this feeling in my chest. This urge to see you that keeps getting stronger and stronger the more time we spend apart. And if I don’t, if I don’t see you it’s like my heart is going to explode. “

The explanation is mediocre at best, but he stirs over your words as if you just presented him with a complicated thesis.

You wonder if it was the explanation he was looking for, or if you just went and made a complete fool of yourself.

After considering your words for what seems like forever, he finally seems to come to terms with something. “This feeling,” he says, “I think I know it.”

“You… do?” Now it’s your turn to be shocked.

“Yes,” he sighs. “It’s quite frustrating, actually. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake it. But now I see that you are the cause.” He closes the distance faster than you can follow.

You see the bright jade glimmer of his spear as it swoops down behind you, hooking you behind the ankle and sending your feet out from under you.

You fall back onto the grass, but not before Xiao catches you, placing you down the rest of the way gently.

His strong arm is still wrapped around your waist as he looks into your eyes. “Am I correct to assume that you are the remedy?

“Xiao…” Desire overcomes you. Without thinking you reach for his neck, pull yourself up, and press your lips to his.

He startles at first, the last bit of wall still holding strong. But then finally, at last, it crumbles before you.

Xiao melts into you, leaning into the kiss with new hunger.

You feel a world open up. The world of Xiao. And it is bright and pink and wonderful.

You pull him closer, exploring this new, beautiful world with increasing curiosity.

“Why?” Xiao huffs into your lips. “Why do I… feel like this?”

You shut up his questions with more kisses.

He seems to gather the answer from your lips. He kisses you with such a passion that your head nearly spins off its axis.

The ache in your chest only seems to get stronger.

You grab him and pull him closer, desperate to have as much of him as you can.

You roll around in the grass—two undistinguishable forms, each attempting to fulfill their increasing desire.

Eventually, Xiao pulls back, placing his forehead against yours so he can look into your eyes once more.

“In all my years of existence,” he says, “Never has a human perplexed me the way you do.” He looks at you with tenderness as he strokes your cheek. “What can I do to make sure this feeling of ‘missing you’ never returns?”

“Stay,” you say, catching his hand. “Stay by my side, always.”

He sighs and looks at you once more with that sweetness. “Alright,” he says. He kisses you again and you surrender to eachother. Though Xiao has promised to stay, you say his name all night. ~~~

More Readings: Xiao's Lust | Xiao x Reader Smut, The Balladeer | Scaramouche x Reader, A Light in the Shadows | Lantern Rite Xiao x Reader Xiao is my favourite person to write <3

[thehypnone]

Possibly some dewther angst? Whatever you feel like writing :)

this is more of a ramble than a ficlet i think but it is dewther angst, hope its okay

Aether leaving the band causes his relationship with Dewdrop to become extremely strained.

It brings out Dewdrop’s neediness when the distance hits. It brings out Aether’s need for space when he gets snowed under work.

And suddenly they don't work, even though they are hundreds of miles apart.

They somehow survive the first leg of the tour, with Aether pretending everything is alright for Dewdrop’s sake. The work he had stayed at the Abbey for is exhausting both mentally and physically and he’s hanging on by a thread barely a month in. The fire ghoul isn’t stupid; he sees something isn’t quite right with Aether as well as between them, but he blames it on the distance.

Dewdrop hurts like hell, being unable to hug or kiss his partner; not even talk to him much. He clenches his jaw and pushes through, though, even if it's with tears in his eyes.

Aether loves Dewdrop fiercely and misses him terribly, but the work tires him enough to make him essentially forget about it. There are times where the only thing on his mind is sleep, not his fire ghoul.

He is—of course—incredibly happy about his pack returning to the Abbey between the tour legs; about Dewdrop returning to him. All the bad things are forgotten for a little while and everything is right in the world again when the fire ghoul is in Aether’s arms again

It’s like that—just good—for a few days he got off from work, but…but then Aether can’t handle any more.

Dewdrop is with him every second, he all but hangs off of him no matter what the quintessence ghoul is doing. It’s understandable—they’ve been apart for so long, for the first time ever since they met, but to Aether it becomes unbearable; he can’t have one single moment for himself anymore. He’s stretched thin between Dewdrop, the infirmary and fucking taxes and it’s simply too much.

He’s tired—tired of the endless work the Clergy has dumped over him and…and his needy partner, he realizes with dread.

How did it come to this?

Aether doesn't mention it for a while, he clenches his jaw and pushes through until it—he—crumbles one evening. Something went really wrong in the infirmary earlier and it’s been a horrible mess lasting for what felt like eternity; it’s nearly midnight when he finally reaches his room. He’s stressed and exhausted and the only thing on his mind is sleep. 

Dewdrop is waiting for him, though. He is a very needy person, indeed, especially when it comes to affection and reassurance, and after having a bad day himself, he simply craves Aether; unable to fall asleep without him.

The quintessence ghoul wants to deliver—still so in love with Dewdrop it’s bordering on insanity—but the time stretches and stretches and there’s a dull ache behind his eyes and his teeth start to hurt from how hard he’s clenching his jaw and there’s that weird pit in his stomach and–and he snaps.

“Dewdrop, I love you, but you have to let me breathe sometimes! I don’t have a second for myself, this relationship feels like yet another chore for me right now!”

And there it is, just like that—all the feelings that have been building inside Aether for months finally spilled. He watches with a nearly empty, cold gaze as Dewdrop starts to shake and cry on the other side of the bed.

The quintessence ghoul hates himself immediately, but what is done is done and despite all the regret of what he just did there is a hint of relief, too.

If Dewdrop leaves, if that’s the end, he will have so much space.

And that’s what he wants. Right?

The silence and the cold won’t drive him crazy until he breaks, crawls back to Dewdrop unable to breathe, and begs him to take him back, to forgive him.

Right?

[esta-elavaris]

OKAY so I genuinely cannot start writing this in earnest without a hell of a lot of planning, buuuuut...I wrote part one in the meantime. Just to get a feel of the thing (🤡🤡🤡) so bone apple tea! Only posting it on here, I won't post it on AO3 until I'm fully ready to go.

Credit goes to @bumblingbriars for giving me the idea of "wait, what if James was the modern one and Theodora was the character in the movies?" -- thank you for this but also how dare you.

Dividers by cafekitsune.

As It Was

None of the tales ever spoke of the fear. Why did they never speak of the fear?

It was a stupid question. Theodora knew why. Because it didn’t make for a very good story, did it? People wanted to hear of the bold heroes who defeated the monsters with little more than a smile and the strength of their own two arms. Who wanted to be regaled with stories of stupid women on suicide missions for philandering pirates? No, she wasn’t the hero of this story. She was a cautionary tale. That was all her death would amount to.

Clenching her teeth against furious tears, she doused Jack’s hands in the oil from the lamp, and then held firm to the shackles as he slid his hands free of them. They were the only two left aboard the Pearl…and it was looking like they’d be going down with it.

“You shouldn’t have stayed, darlin’,” he said.

There was a mournfulness to his dark eyes that she’d never seen before. Even now, here, at the end, he couldn’t pretend any more than she could that her death mightn’t be a waste. That it was anything more than an idiot dying for the sake of an unrequited crush.

“Too late now,” she ground out, following it up with a very forced, very strained laugh.

Because if she stopped clenching her jaw, she would definitely begin to sob. And that was the only thing here that could be more pathetic.

“Too late now,” Jack agreed, a bitter smile on his face.

Each second seemed to stretch into an eternity – was that natural, when death was certain and unavoidable? It was supposed to come with a sense of peace, was it not? Of calm? Her father had always said…god, her father. How would he even find out, back in Port Royal? He’d never forgive her for this. It was that thought that had her vision blurring.

Around them, deceptively soft splashes sounded here and there, out of place with how the water usually lapped at the sides of the ship, followed by stomach-churning slick noises…that of the kraken’s appendages. Theo took a deep, shuddering breath in. Too late now.

When she looked at Jack again, searching for words – although she knew not which ones, exactly – she found him forcing a smile. Then, instead of stepping back as she’d expected, he stepped forward. Her eyes closed on instinct as he kissed her, time slowed further still, and she felt…she felt nothing. No breathlessness, no swelling in her chest, no weakness in her knees. Nothing like Elizabeth ever described when it came to Will. Only the scratch of his moustache, the way the beads in his beard clacked against her chin, and the discomfort at the awkward angle of how she’d leaned in.

They parted, and when she opened her eyes, she found Jack watching her, that sadness back on his face again. No joking admonishments at her lack of any reaction, no over-the-top exaggerations at how his prowess had just gone clearly unappreciated. Nothing. Just sorrow. But it was quickly covered by yet another forced smile.

“Come on, darlin,” he drew his sword. “Best have a bit of flair about it, eh?”

Well. She could agree with that, at least. Theo drew her own sword, and took a deep breath in.

There were many things that James actually enjoyed about living with his younger sister…although admitting that to her would be nothing short of a fatality. But Phoebe was a rather good flatmate. She picked up after herself, she didn’t throw parties, and she added life to a flat that would otherwise be rather dead during the times when he was actually in it.

One habit of hers, however, that he could do without was her burning desire to watch the same films over and over again, with scarcely an hour between repeats. It was cyclical, more often than not. Winter belonged to Middle-earth, spring to whatever was newly landed on her radar, and summer – which they were suffering through now – was Pirates of the Caribbean territory. One month in, and he was just about ready to set about his eyeballs with a spoon. Anything to make it stop.

At present, she sat on the sofa across the other side of the room while he pottered about the kitchen, watching enraptured as the redhead on screen turned with teary eyes, side-by-side with Jack Sparrow, to face the kraken that would soon devour them both, the music swelling dramatically as they lifted their swords.

“What I don’t understand is why she had to die,” he said unthinkingly.

And instantly regretted it when Phoebe turned with a grin.

“Ha! You’re getting into it now!”

“If you’re going to insist on watching the damn things ten times a week, I can’t be blamed for noticing bits of them,” he replied sourly, leaning on the countertop. “But they bring him back in the next film, don’t they? Why not her, too?”

“The movie-verse explanation is that she was at peace.”

“Dying for a man who could barely pat her on the head in thanks? Oh, yes, very peaceful. Positively euphoric.”

Curiosity sated, albeit not in a particularly satisfying manner, he straightened and resumed the arduous process of deciding whether he’d be having cereal or real food for dinner.

“Yes. Well,” Phoebe turned her face back to the television, distractedly watching as the kraken devoured the Black Pearl, “the boring explanation is that the actress had a nasty accident just before filming started for the next one, and her bones wouldn’t heal in time for all of the stunts and so on. They had to write her out.”

That made marginally more sense, at least.

“…Much to your disappointment, I suspect,” she added smugly.

“Excuse me?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I saw you googling her earlier.”

“I thought I recognised her from something else.”

The fact that his cheeks blazed almost immediately did little to help his argument, but he took some comfort in knowing she was one of the few who could wrench such a reaction from him. If any of his brothers-in-arms could see it, they’d never let him hear the end of it.

“If you say so,” came her smug response.

“And she…emotes rather impressively,” he added.

“Is that what they call it these days?”

James scoffed his disgust…and then he settled on cereal. That would get him out from his sister’s far too knowing gaze much more quickly. But he’d miss it, he knew, next time he deployed.

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Something about Paul pleaseeeeee? 🥹🥹🥹

They are so hard to find🥺

PAUL LANDERS - Quiet Evenings

Paul had a rough day at the studio… Thank god you were waiting at home to cheer him up.

Genre: Fluff

Notes: For my bae @shinypeachkitten! Sorry if there’s any mistakes, it’s late as fuuuuck here. Either way, I hope you enjoy!! 🖤

“Hey honey!” You gave a big smile as Paul grumpily shuffled through the door. Your smile didn’t falter even as he kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch, leaning heavily against you. “Bad day..?” You asked calmly.

“Horrible.” He muttered, playing with your shirt, not paying attention to anything but the oversized article of clothing.

“Talk to me.” You replied sweetly, putting your bookmark in your book and setting it on the side table as he began to talk. He shifted from leaning against you to laying with his head in your lap, his feet dangling off the end of the couch.

“Well- Richard is just… So damn overbearing! I mean… We’re a band for fucks sake! It’s not just ‘the Richard show’! He just wouldn’t let up! And Flake wasn’t happy with anything any of us were tracking and putting down. Ollie didn’t even give a shit it seemed like. And Schneider wouldn’t shut the fuck up on his stupid fucking drums! On top of that no one even seemed to care about my suggestions!” Paul let his words flow like a waterfall, his arms gesturing wildly not stopping until everything was let out. In the end his cheeks were dusted pink from his anger.

You just sat with your feet propped up on the coffee table, running your slender fingers through his hair as he ranted, waiting patiently for him to finish. His words soaked into you, it took a second to process honestly, with the relentless speed in which he talked. “What an eventful day… Not a good eventful, but still… Eventful…” you murmured, letting your fingers running through his hair do the calming rather than your words.

“Fuck… I just… I just needed to see you sooner.” He looked up at you with a tired smile, running his own hands through his hair. “I always feel better when I see you.”

Paul was eternally thankful for your presence, your calming aura, your kind smile, your sweet voice. He honestly didn’t know what he’d do without you. You were his rock, his light, his love. He could only stare up at you as he laid his head in your lap, looking over your soft features, admiring you as he often did.

You let your fingers run from his soft hair down to his face, lightly tracing his features, his jaw, lips, eyebrows. “How about we cook some dinner? Food always cheers you up!” You smiled sweetly down at him.

“Oh god please.” He begged.

You giggle at his enthusiastic reply, “well you have to get up then silly boy.”

“But you’re so damn comfy.” He said softly, getting up and stretching as he spoke.

You followed his movements, going to the kitchen to start up dinner. You pulled out a box of mac and cheese, something quick and easy since Paul was obviously hungry and a little grouchy. He likes to hover around you as you cook when he’s impatient and hungry, and that’s exactly what he’s doing now. It didn’t take long for the meal to be placed in bowls and for Paul to scarf his down like he hadn’t eaten in a lifetime.

“Go slowly! You’ll get a stomachache!” You scolded, gently pushing your full bowl of mac and cheese towards him knowing he was still hungry. You sat there peacefully, watching him with your head cradled in your hand.

“Why do you watch me while I eat!” He chuckles, finishing up the second bowl.

“Would you like more?”

“No thank you schatzi, this was plenty.” He leaned over the table and left a light kiss on your nose, picking up both bowls and placing them in the sink to be washed later. “How about a hot shower and a movie in bed?” He asked as he peaked around the corner.

“Sounds like a plan to me!” You replied, standing and making your way to the bathroom, starting up the shower.

His strong arms snaked around your midsection, pulling you close to him as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “My love…” he mumbled into your soft flesh, nipping his way down the side of your neck. You placed your hands on his arms, welcoming the warm touches, tilting your head to give him more access.

You let him continue for bit, only shifting out of his grasp to take your clothes off. “Well come on now, water’s getting cold!” You turn around giving him a little sway of your hips before stepping into the hot water. Paul wastes no time stripping his clothes off, your movements only spurring him to go quickly, following behind you. The water felt wonderful on his skin, soothing his tense muscles. He felt as if his troubles were washed away with the scalding water and you standing there in front of him. You watched as he tilted his head back with a pleased groan, letting the water run through his blonde locks. You gathered shampoo in your hands, lathering it and running your fingers through his hair once again, washing out the dirt from the day. You watched as his muscles relaxed further, his shoulders slumping from your gentle touch. His hands took hold to your hips as you continued washing his hair, his eyes shut in contentment. “Don’t get any ideas.” You said softly, a hint of amusement in your voice, now working conditioner through his hair. A step that only happens when he showers with you. He doesn’t care to go through unnecessary pampering on his own, he prefers when you do it for him. He opened one eye, looking at you with a mischievous smirk.

Shaking your head with a chuckle you worked soap down his body, not truly ‘cleaning’ him. Just giving yourself an excuse to touch his perfect figure. And lord knows he won’t ever stop you. He loves the way your slender fingers run down his chest, over his strong biceps, his cute tummy. Fuck he just loves you. Paul reciprocates the love, playing with your hair gently and kissing up from your collarbone, to the flesh of your neck, to your soft cheek, and finally your perfect lips. All you can do is smile, feeling overwhelmed with love. His love and your love for him.

The rest of the shower was gentle kisses and soft murmurs. The both of you drying off and changing into your sleepwear, snuggling into your large bed together. Paul puts on a movie and relaxes with you, laying his head on your chest as he moves closer snuggle into you. “I love you baby,” he sighs happily, loving your warmth. He plays with your fingers absentmindedly, a small yawn escapes his mouth as he tries to focus on the movie.

“Was that a yawn?” You asked teasingly, already knowing he’ll deny it. Which of course, he did.

“No!” He huffed.

“You look exhausted honey.” You muse lightly.

“I’m fine!” He continues his protest.

You hum a soft “mhmmm” and let him win for the time being. He pulls the covers up to his chin, putting his leg over you, another sign he’s getting comfortable to sleep. It doesn’t take long for him to become unresponsive, his breathing deep and heavy.

“Goodnight my love…” you whisper softly, admiring him once more before turning out the lights and giving him one more kiss.

[grimgoregrimoire]

A Slice Of The Birthday Train-wreck

Characters & story by Izzy Gentz (me!)

Drabble sent in by @stargazer-sims

693 words

Trigger warnings: swearing, family problems, drug use mention, dark humor.

Notes:

Yes, I know a drabble is supposed to be 100 words, but I DO NOT CONTROL THE AMOUNT OF WORDS I WRITE!!!! Also, I know this drabble was supposed to be about "cake," but evidently, this is the story that wanted to be told... I mean, cake, birthday... That's not too much of a stretch, right?

Thank you again to everyone who sent me one of these, and thank you for your patience.

A Slice Of The Birthday Train-wreck

No-where-fucking-good, WA

November 2 2005

14:00

Parker

---------

Conner, I know you opened this 'cause you're always bitching about being the only one who checks the mail so do me a favor and just hand this to Courtney.

Dearest Courtney, YOU ARE A BITCH! I wish I never met you never mind let you talk me into going home for my birthday!!!!

Thanks to you I've had the worst three days of my life, and that's coming from someone who has been legally dead.

You know, shit was actually going okay and I was delusional enough to think this might be the first of twenty-three birthdays that wasn't pure shit.

You know, my dad picked me up from the train station, he didn't once remind me how much easier it would be if I still had my car.

When I got to the house my little brother wanted to draw with me, we watched cartoons for like three hours straight. My sisters didn't just ignore me the entire time we had dinner, my middle sister even said she liked my hair. My mom made a cake that I swear was probably the second best thing that's ever been in my mouth and I didn't wake up with a broken spine from the couch.

Even when I was going to leave this morning, my ice queen of a mother gave me a HUG for Christ's sake! She even packed me a huge slice of this triple chocolate orgasm for the train.

Speaking of, this tall, gorgeous, professor-looking dude sat right next to me at the train station. He started talking to me, I got annoyed 'cause he could clearly see my headphones but he talked smoothly so I got over it.

And when he told me to get up and follow him, I thought "Damn, this week can't get any better!"

He took me into the bathroom and told me to get on my knees, and when I did he slammed and locked the door in my face, and took off with my bag!

I jimmied the lock and found out he was nice enough to leave my ticket and slice of cake of all things.

Luckily the train showed up almost as soon as I came out of the bathroom, but the ride sober and without headphones was going to last an eternity!

At least, that's what I thought before the train broke down three hours into the trip!

Did you know trains could break down? I didn't even know trains could break down!

But all of a sudden the train stopped in the middle of nowhere and the power went out and someone had to come tell us it would be a few hours before we got rescued unless we could call someone to come pick us up but guess who doesn't have a fucking quarter.

So anyway, I'm stuffing my face with the only thing that has survived the Alanis Morissette song that is my life, this beautiful chocolate cake (which is in pieces btw), while I'm writing this, and the reason I'm writing this? 'Cause I'm assuming you'll get this around the same time they call you to come pick up my mangled corpse after I've finally had enough and laid across the tracks, and if not it will be amazing proof for me to NEVER TRUST COURTNEY EVER AGAIN!!!

Should this be the words I ever speak I leave a message to each of you;

Nate, you know the rule we made and you know all the hiding spots, I never made new ones. I know I said I did but I didn't so don't worry about it.

Conner, I know you've been waiting for this day since we met in high school, my only request is that you make the dance on my grave sick as fuck and not just the regular jig.

Aaron, as the baby daddy of our beanie baby, I leave you all twenty-seven dollars and ninety-six cents in my bank account. Make sure Beanie goes to a good college.

Courtney, I WILL SEE YOU IN HELL, YOU BOTTLE BLONDE BITCH!!!!!!

With love,

Parker W.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans - Chapter 34: A Story is True...

The SWAT team bursts through the front door, the dining room French doors, the second floor bedroom windows, all without warning. It's a Saturday for God's sake, and only half noon. He supposes they were hoping to find him at home.

They have him surrounded.

Anne charges towards the police Sargent standing in the front doorway, coordinating all this chaos, looking to give him a piece of her mind. Or a taste of the blades she still carries. She's cut down in an instant.

No beanbag rounds or nightsticks here.

Mary steps into the hallway, half hidden behind her clipboard. Probably making for the camouflaged entrance to the basement. Maybe she'll be able to wait out the investigation that's sure to follow – the dozens of inspectors and crime scene investigators sure to be crawling all over his lovely home once he's taken in. And then maybe she'll be able to sneak out the back, find and warn Max.

Maybe Max has already been brought in.

Jack would never squeal on her. He's not entirely sure she'll return the courtesy.

Jack raises his arms above his head in a gesture of surrender. Stands from the sofa he'd been lounging on. The police advance past Anne's cooling body, their boots leaving red tracks on the pristine white carpet and lovely blonde wood floors he'd had installed in the lounge.

He's grabbed roughly by the arm, forced around, pushed against the nearest wall. A priceless painting crashes to the floor, glass shards splintering everywhere. The Sargent – the one who killed Anne – steps forward, shiny shoes clicking against the floor. Roughs Jack even further against the wall as he handcuffs him, hisses into his ear about finally getting foreign muck off the streets. About what a great movie finale this would make.

Jack has no idea what he's talking about.

He wishes Charles was here.

He hopes Charles is a hundred miles away, safe and gone to ground.

Jack is brought to the station and made to wait what feels like an eternity in a small windowless room on an ugly, uncomfortable plastic chair. He's still handcuffed.

When he's finally read his charges, the Sargent – who killed Anne – lists them grandiosely, as if he's killed the Queen. Jack has to struggle not to laugh. Extortion of Immigration Office personnel. Conspiring to bring criminals into the country.

There's nothing about his real estate scam. Nothing about Max or Featherstone. Nothing about the Brothel, even.

He's looking at a five stretch, unless he confesses. A good lawyer could get it down to two or three.

Anne is dead.

His persona of a dimwitted poof is useful here. He just wanted to bring his favorite seamstresses to work for him. He had no idea of their relations' gang affiliations.

Anne is dead.

He'll do the time, at a cushy white collar prison, no doubt and then ruin whoever was yellowbellied enough to go to the police for a bit of blackmail or extortion. The bastard didn't even come clean about the brothel. He'll be back on top in no time. Unless he confesses.

Anne is dead.

He can see the headlines now. Gutter rat responsible for massive real estate scam. Man posed as fashion designer to rob the rich blind. Bastard feels no remorse for his despicable actions.

And he, the sole villain of the piece. His name would live forever.

Anne is dead and Charles is gone and Max has hopefully already fled.

Jack smiles. Asks the Sargent – who killed Anne - “Why, is that all you have on me? I've been a much naughtier boy than that.”

[oceanicxeyes]

What started as teasing and snapping sassy insults back and forth – became something more primal. Something raw. There was nothing beautiful about sex. People who perceived such an action as making love were just fools, deluding themselves from the real thing. Sex was messy. It was dirty and hard and animalistic. There was no reasoning there. No need to think several steps ahead. What the body wanted – the body would claim. And no matter how many centuries the demon had walking around the mortal plane, one thing never changed: sex was still brutal and intense and every fucking bit as enjoyable as ever. Some lovers were boring, of course. They liked to lay down and take it in a vanilla way – something the demon learned a couple of decades ago – while others were less prone to shame. It was during sex that one’s true desires would emerge. Lust, greed, envy, wrath…. No matter what mask they used to conceal those sins, they would all come bubbling once the control was gone and their minds would be discarded for the sake of pure, blissful pleasure. Toby was a rough partner. The hair pulling was harsh, his bites on his neck and earlobe but demanding and possessive. The demon did like being marked and mark in return… despite knowing that whatever mark inflicted on his body would heal within moments. But he did like to feel it. He liked to see someone like Tobias losing control while trying to maintain control. Riding him faster, harder – seeking his own pleasure while using him for such end. It was during sex that someone’s true nature would stand out. Aggression. Possessiveness. Demanding. Submissive. No matter what secrets they would conceal, the demon would see them all when they were at their rawest moment. There was no way to hide secrets when such moment came. It was just pleasure – and the need to reach that proverbial Nirvana would banish any and all reason. Sex was sex. It was messy, dirty and animalistic. “I can TRY, but I won’t.” The demon smirked in response, clenching the fingers around Toby’s cock a bit harder, stroking him in the same frenetic pace that he was using to ride him. It was so fucking good – to see someone jump up and down on his cock, clenching harder by the second – wanting nothing more than to use him for their own selfish needs. This was why sex was better than anything else. It didn’t need to be complicated. It did not require strings attached. It was just two – or more – people coming together with the very same goal in mind: PLEASURE. “Like I told you, I have no intention on breaking someone as pretty as you. You’re way better than some of the guys I fuck with. Why would I dismiss the chance of fucking you again?” And no matter what Toby’s response would be – Patrick knew he wanted the same thing. How could he not, when he was clearly better than the mortals that roamed that plane? “You had your fun.” Toby had been deciding the pace for a while now and Patrick was getting bored on being on the passenger’s seat. He wanted to take the wheel again and be the one pushing Toby over the edge. “Allow me.” His arms wrapped themselves around the other man in a tight but secure embrace, seeking to ease the movements of the other man so that they could remain still for a moment. So that they could look into each other’s eyes as they took that time to regain their breath. And once that moment of peace seemed to stretch to eternity and back – the demon moved. With both of his feet planted firmly of the ground, his hips rolled upward into Tobias. A single thrust – hard enough to make his partner jump when he entered him again but slow on pulling back – giving Toby the opportunity to feel every single inch slide out of him. And then another harsh thrust. And slowly pulling back. “I want to see you touch yourself.” The request that was more like a state of fact came out as a low whisper, Patrick’s lips hovering against Tobias. “I bet you look all sorts of hot jerking yourself off, darling… It’s making me harder just to think about it.”

Toby's breath caught as Patrick's tail suddenly disappeared from around his neck, the pressure vanishing as quickly as it had come. But the relief was short-lived—Patrick’s hands replaced the tail, fingers wrapping around Toby’s throat with a grip that sent a thrill of something dark through him.

His hands moved on instinct, fingers threading through Patrick's hair, grabbing fistfuls of the thick strands and pulling sharply, forcing the demon’s head back. Toby’s mouth found Patrick’s neck, teeth grazing the skin before he bit down, a quick, sharp nip. Toby didn’t stop, didn’t give Patrick a moment to recover—he peppered his neck with more kisses, more bites, working his way up to the earlobe, sucking it into his mouth before biting down once more.

Let him know who’s in control, Toby thought, though even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was a lie. Patrick had him—had him wrapped around his finger, had him on the edge of something Toby couldn’t quite name but felt deep in his bones. The demon was playing him like a finely tuned instrument, and Toby hated how much he loved it.

Then he felt it—the pull, the siphoning of life through Patrick’s hand as it gripped his cock. It was subtle at first, a slight drain that made Toby’s heart skip a beat. He knew this feeling, knew it all too well from encounters with other demons. But this was different, more intimate, more deliberate.

Patrick wasn’t just feeding; he was taking something from Toby, something vital and essential. Toby’s breath hitched, his body freezing for a split second as he processed what was happening.

Without Qinglong, I don’t have as much life as I should, Toby thought, a flicker of concern flashing through his mind. But then he remembered—Ling-guang. Her phoenix feather contained that portion of his powers he managed to regain. It’s not like I’m allowed to die, anyway. The thought was bitter, but it brought a twisted kind of comfort.

Still, no need to make it easy for the wanker…

Even if Patrick drained him dry, Toby wouldn’t die—not really. He’d just… raise again. But that was a problem for later, a concern to be dealt with once he wasn’t riding a demon’s cock and trying not to lose his mind in the process.

Toby gasped, his movements faltering for just a moment before he forced himself to continue, to ride Patrick’s cock with a renewed sense of purpose. The pleasure and the pain blurred together, each thrust driving him closer to the edge, each pull on his life force making him feel both weaker and more alive than he’d felt in years.

“I beg your pardon?” Toby managed, his voice breathless.

His reaction was instant, visceral. His hips snapped down hard, driving Patrick’s cock deeper inside him, the sudden movement sending a bolt of pleasure so intense that his vision went white at the edges.

Toby’s teeth clenched, his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to let the demon’s words get under his skin. He wasn’t going to beg. Not for Patrick, not for anyone. His hips moved faster, harder, the pleasure building to a fever pitch that left him gasping for air. “You can try.”

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Someone Else part 2

In which Spencer finally confesses... at Y/N's wedding

Spencer ReidxFem!reader

Warnings: angst, sadness, all the feels 🥺

Spencer never thought he'd be in a church waiting for Y/N at the altar... on the groomsmen side.

Two and a half years later, Zeke had asked Spencer to be one of his groomsmen when he and Y/N first announced that they were engaged. He wore a smile on his face but on the inside, he was so close to breaking.

Rossi held an engagement party at his mansion. Spencer watched her as she spoke to Morgan with Zeke by her side. His arm was wrapped around her waist. Y/N happily played with her dimond ring.

God, did Spencer wish that he was in Zeke's position. He wished that he was the one kissing her and holding her. He wished that he was the one who got down on one knee.

But there he was, standing with his hands folded in front of him as he stared at the doors in the back, waiting for them to open. He eyes Penelope, JJ, and Emily on the other side as they smiled excitedly and whispered to each other.

Then the music started.

The doors opened.

Spencer's throat became desert dry as he spotted her in that white dress. God, she looked beautiful. She always did to him.

Her smile was brighter than the damn sun as she made eye contact with Zeke. Spencer noticed the tears that burned in his eyes as she got closer to him.

For a second, just a second, Y/N looked at him. He gave her a smile but her eyes were already back on Zeke.

The ceremony was over just as it had started but for Spencer, it felt like an eternity of listening to them say their vows. He held a blank stare at the ground and anyone who wasn't paying attention to Y/N in her beautiful dress, could see that he was devastatingly jealous. But he knew all eyes were in Y/N.

When the ceremony was over, he didn't dare look up to see them kiss. He clapped though. He looked to the audience to find Rossi looking right back at him. He nodded with a slight smile. "It's gonna be okay." The man mouthed.

Spencer nodded and a fake smile reached across his lips as he finally got the courage to look over at the newly weds.

The happiest smile that Spencer's ever seen on Y/N was stretched across her lips as she pulled away from Zeke's lips and pressed her forehead against his.

The officiant smiled. "May I present to you, Mr. And Mrs. Stone!"

Y/N and Zeke joined hands as they walked down the isle. Zeke's brother was in front of Spencer and he walked with JJ. Spencer was next and he let Emily loop her arm around him. "Hey, you okay, Spence?" She asked as they smiled at the people watching them walk down the isle.

"Yeah. I'm great." That was a lie if Emily had ever heard one but she decided not to press him that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nobody had ever seen Spencer Reid drunk.

But there he was, taking in more alcohol at one time than he ever had in his entire life. Emily and Penelope were eyeing him with concern as he downed two glasses of whiskey in a row.

The two women made their way over to him. Penelope placed her hands on his shoulders while Emily stood beside them.

"Boy wonder, what are you doing?" She asked.

Spencer sighed heavily. "I'm getting drunk. What does it look like I'm doing?" He grunted. His tie was messed up and his hair was disheveled. He looked like the drunk uncle who showed up at weddings.

"Spence, you need to slow down. There are kids here." Emily told him, placing a hand on his chest.

The doctor scoffed and pushed her away gently. "I don't care, Emily! I n-never- I just want- Y/N! I want Y/N."

Both women widened their eyes. "Reid, she just got married. What are you talking about-"

Penelope was cut off by a voice coming over speakers. "Pkay, ladies and gentlemen! We are now gonna open up the mic for speeches to welcome the newly weds! If anyone has anything they'd like to say say to the couple, please come on up."

Spencer looked back at Emily and Penelope. "Don't do it, Spencer." Emily said quietly.

Before anyone could say anything else, Spencer rushed towards the stage. "Spence!" Garcia yelled out.

Then he was there. Standing beside the head table where he was supposed to be sat with a microphone in his hands. Y/N and Zeke had smiles on their faces.

"Um... hi. I'm Spencer Reid." He cleared his throat quietly. "Um... I've known- I've known Y/N/N for a long time now." His voice was slightly slurred but Y/N couldn't hear it. She was just happy that her bestfriend was up there. "The first time I met Y/N, she and I had- ha. We had a Rubix cube contest." He laughed, pushing his palm into his eye. "I won but she- she congratulated me. And... that's when I developed a crush on her." Y/N's smile contorted into a confused one. She glanced at Zeke who wasn't smiling anymore. "She's so beautiful." Y/N noticed that he was drunk now. He looked over at her with a smile. "And those- those years I've know her... I fell in love." Y/N felt Zeke tense up beside her. "I've been in love with her- I am in love with her. I'm and idiot because I never had the courage to ask her out. Or or tell her how I feel. And now she's married this... Zeke guy. You're an amazing guy, man. You really are but ha! I'm in love with your wife." Before Zeke could get up from his seat, Y/N stopped him.

She stood up instead and marched towards Spencer with an angry face. She grabbed the microphone from his hands and gave it back to the MC who was standing there awkwardly.

She grabbed Spencer's wrist tightly and dragged him off of the stage. She passed Penelope and Emily who tried to call out to her gut she just shook her head and kept walking Spencer towards the doors that they had all entered from.

She opened them and dragged him out. When she finally let go of his wrist he stumbled a bit and them looked at her. "Oh, Y/N... Y/N/N... I'm sorry-"

"How could you!?" Her yelling silenced him. She had tears in her eyes. "That was the most embarrassing thing I've ever dealt with, Spencer! And at my wedding! My wedding for God's sake!"

Spencer was pretty sure that everyone in the dining hall could hear her, she was so angry. Hot, angry tears flowed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I-i I don't know what got into me."

"You had no right! You had no right to say any of that in there! You do understand that don't you!?" She yelled.

Spencer nodded. "I'm so sorry-"

"When we first met... God, when we first met... I couldn't get you out of my head, Spencer. I- I- ugh!" She didn't know what else to do. So, her brain took over and she laid a hard slap to his cheek. She gasped as soon as she did it and stepped back, placing her hands over her mouth. "I'm sorry. Oh, God I'm sorry."

"You like me, Y/N?" He asked, disregarding her apologies and the slap.

"No! No, Spencer I don't! I said that I liked you! I found someone else." She told him. She stepped forward. "He's an amazing person, he loves me-"

"Alright, Y/N-"

"I love him! he-"

"Okay-"

"He tells me how he feels! He doesn't hide his feelings Spencer!"

"I know!" Spencer yelled. "I know that I messed up! I screwed everything up because you walked into my life! You're everything I wanted, Y/N!"

Y/N shook her head slowly. "You don't get to say that to me." She whispered, a tear falling from her eye.

Spencer's eyes softened as he looked at her. She crossed her arms and stared at the ground. "I was gonna tell ypu and the team after the wedding but, Zeke and I are moving. He got a job in L.A and we're going."

"Y/N-"

She sniffled. "Go home, Spencer."

"But Y/N-"

"Leave, Spencer." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "Please." She pleaded, not wanting to cry anymore.

He didn't say anything. He just nodded and turned towards the exit. Before he could though, he stopped and turned back around to face her.

Her arms were crossed and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as tears traveled down her red cheeks.

"Congratulations, Y/N."

Then he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know who I feel worse for 😭

I'm crying cuz I don't know if I feel worse for Spence or Y/N. Who do you feel worse for???

[ackerfics]

so this is love — annie leonhart

— annie leonhart x female reader

— request by anon: I kinda have a request. How about royal au? Where 2 kingdoms are at war with each other, and reader is the heir of the throne of one kingdom (but they’re not the spoiled type of heir, more like the solider one?) and then the kingdoms decided a truce. Reader will have to marry the heir of the other kingdom which is Annie. Idk maybe those arranged marriages that they never get along at first? Kinda like they were enemies bc they never get along until some development of feelings happen along the way. Maybe Annie will realize that she has feelings when reader got injured since they’re a soldier

— warnings: mentions of war, slight angst if you squint, just two idiots falling in love with each other :))

— summary: you were sent off to another kingdom as a sign of a truce, promising to yourself that the engagement is close to death at how you got off on the wrong foot with your betrothed. it was hell at first but who knows? maybe, unbeknownst to you, the two of you are a match made by the gods.

— word count: 7.5k

— author’s notes: i am so sorry this came out so long :((( we just finished our exams and we have a case study to write as our midterm for a subject. i hope this will still quench your annie fic cravings. and by the way, i fashioned the kingdom of idylle to mondstadt because genshin impact is my stress reliever right now and a kingdom built upon freedom sounds like a gem. plus, the glass castle of the reader is based off of the castle of cinderella, which is the reason for the title hhhhhh happy reading !!!

so this didn’t appear in the tags so i reposted it :”(((

Corsets were abominations that needed to be burned.

The girl with your features staring at you from the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize from all the preparations your chambermaid did on your figure. The make-up was appalling and thick that you could see a smear on the back of your hand when you tried rubbing your itching nose. Your hair was done in a half up-do with too many decorative pins sticking out, creating a makeshift crown of silver roses, one of the symbols of your kingdom. The dress your mother expected you in was straight-up ridiculous, you couldn’t move from the tightness of the corset and the heaviness of your skirts was hindering you from moving freely. You couldn’t even deny that it was a lovely gown but its inconvenience was irking you at the slightest turn or stretch.

Dressing up this lavishly was rare for you, the Crown Princess of the kingdom boring flags of silver and lilac. You very much preferred the heaviness of your armor and your title as one of your kingdom’s Commendatore rather than the ladylike image your mother has been forcing you on the past few weeks.

You were livid when your parents renounced from the ten-year war that was purging the continent with just a sign on a piece of paper — one that included your name and your honor. Everything was brutal, carnage dotting every town and village of the two kingdoms throwing spears and fire cannons, and you witnessed it all firsthand when you started being one of your kingdom’s soldiers four years ago — a sixteen-year-old girl throwing orders that gave you an advantage from your enemies wearing the crest of the kingdom that painted your lands a heart-wrenching red. Of all solutions that your parents and the other kingdom could come up with, it involved you in the most unacceptable way possible. Officially entering your twenties this year, your parents thought it necessary to offer you as a bride that signified peace to the warring nation right beyond the border. The idea made your vision red, an outburst coming out of your mouth mere seconds after the proposal was announced in the council meeting.

A soldier, a knight, a commander — that’s what you are.

Not some forsaken young woman ready to be shipped off to your rival nation because it was the only way out of this bloody mess.

You had no choice.

The only way for you to grasp the final moments in your kingdom was relishing the touches of the chambermaid and taking in the décor of your room — the small trinkets scattered on your nightstands, the books you escaped to, the jewelry that boasted the colors of your family, and the stuffed animals your nanny sewed for you when you were a toddler. You closed your eyes and let the feathery fingers of the people around you lull you into a prayer for the gods in their celestial thrones, asking for their blessing in this far travel. In the middle of reciting an ode dedicated to the goddess of divine bravery, you felt a cool pendant carefully slide over your collarbones.

Your mother’s face appeared beside the watery princess of the mirror, a forced smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Your distinctly colored irises flickered down on the necklace your mother placed upon the exposed parts of your body. It was a flower-pressed necklace, the gold plate carefully protecting the flower representing your birth. The golden chain holding the necklace together was so thin that you worried for a moment that the fragile piece of jewelry might break in less than an hour while you meet your partner-to-be. You met your mother’s gaze in the mirror — from a chivalrous princess of armor to a dignified queen ruling within a land of eternal spring.

“You look so beautiful,” your mother breathed your name, holding your arms tightly against her ring-adorned hands. Tears blossomed her eyes, trickling down her cheeks akin to the lavender flowers’ petals of the large white tree in your backyard. “You look like the queen you were supposed to be.”

You tried smiling but your wobbly lips made you falter. You can only purse your lips in a tight, flat smile as you face your mother, face set in a kind expression. “Please don’t cry, Mother,” you murmured, placing your palm on top of hers, squeezing it for reassurance. “They wouldn’t do anything to me.”

They, meaning the kingdom you were at war with, the nation that claimed they needed a bride for their Crown Heir. In your world, there was freedom even in marriage — with the kingdoms pairing their sons with the sons of their enemies all for the sake of a truce, especially if the two of them were firstborns. This is very much your situation at the moment. The kingdom of Idylle was a beautiful haven of songs dedicated to the god of the winds, very contrasting to their military power that could take down a good number of your soldiers. You heard stories from some villages in your nation that Idylle was a hoax, that they were bloodthirsty warmongers hungry for the spilled blood of the people of Glaieul, your kingdom. You couldn’t help but believe their words. That was the only addition to your knowledge of Idylle except for their battle tactics and placement of soldiers on the battlefield.

“We’ll pray to the deities that they will do just that,” your mother laughed a little despite the tears. “Or else your father will wage war if they so much scratched you.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Mother,” you shook your head with a slight smile. “You two have worked so hard for this peace treaty. If I ever scratched myself in Idyllic lands, trust me that it would most likely be my fault. Not theirs.”

Your mother’s laugh twinkled in the room, painting everything in a light that erased the heaviness shrouding in every corner of your chambers. “I suppose so. You and your love for your sword are unrivaled. I can still remember the time when you first got the weapon, you were so thrilled for a six-year-old that one would think you were born in the barracks. I have to admit, you looked adorable swinging your sword until the greeting of the night and its stars.” She wistfully sighed, looking down at the necklace she gave you. “Your father was so proud when you came back for dinner that night.”

“My sword has always been a lifelong companion. I will even bring it to their castle.”

Your mother placed a hand on top of her chest, over her heart. “I hope you don’t unsheathe it in front of their royal family.”

You breathed a laugh. “No promises.”

The two of you talk about all the things that happened in your childhood, your laughs echoing through the hallways. The maids and the butlers bade you goodbye and safe travels as you passed by, never forgetting to nod in their direction in acknowledgment. You will miss their company for they saw you grow up before you decided to partake in the war. Almost all of them fussed over the mess you made while practicing your swordplay, cleaning up the broken vases and the mud on the carpeted floors. Even one of the apprentices of the Keeper of Books residing in the palace, Armin, enthusiastically waved at you, his friends flanking him for a visit in the kitchens. You didn’t miss how Eren directed an incredulous stare towards the blonde man, with Mikasa looking shocked at how easily the apprentice interacted with you in a public setting since your times with them only happened behind prying eyes.

You gave the three of them a huge smile that gave their faces a pretty rose shade.

Upon reaching the foyer, your father stood at the foot of the stairs along with the soldiers you acquainted in your time on the battlefield, sending a wave of warmth through your chest. His silver coat lined with gold details was a beacon and his white breeches were tucked in a pair of knee-length boots. His chest was decorated with his sash full of medallions, the kingdom insignia of lilac gladioluses and silver roses pinned on top of his heart. The king of Glaieul softened his eyes, crinkles appearing at the corners, at the sight of you and your mother descending on the stairs.

“My little flower,” was his greeting to you when you reached him.

“Father,” you breathed, picking up your skirts to settle in the embrace of waiting arms. You buried your figure against him, inhaling his scent of pine and rosewater, creating the last memory you will have of him. The two of you pulled away for a moment, your eyes watering at the sad visage your father sported. You felt the lightest brush of his kiss on your forehead. 

“Now I’m becoming reluctant in sending you off,” he told you. “I felt guilty when I saw you fight against this during the council meeting. But it is what they offered and I have no say in the matter.”

“I know.”

“May the eternal spring never waver in your soul.”

You nodded before taking a step back, bowing with your knees on the marble floors. Your crown glinted against the light from the stained-glass windows, your hair forming a curtain around your face as you replied, “I will let it fester among the ballads and idylls they will offer. I will carry the name of Glaieul with faithfulness, honor, and grace.” You raised your head to meet your father’s eyes. “I promise to never deter the eternal spring.”

It would be that way until your last years in that kingdom. And as you rode the carriage with the soldiers you fought with guarding the vehicle with their lives on the line, you could only sigh and offer another round of prayers that this swerves in a more positive direction than what you were expecting. After a hefty journey across the bustling capital (people stopped by and waved your carriage goodbye, offering you flowers that one of the captains of the fleet, Levi, scowled at — you coaxed him that it was alright, though) to the hectares of meadows in the countryside, the sight of flowers mixed with emerald turned into a sea of teal as you entered the outskirts of Idylle, your betrothed’s home. Everything was bathed with the endemic species of grass solely blessed by the god of the winds on Idylle — legends say that it was because He wanted the kingdom that worshipped him to look different than the rest. No matter how much you deny it, it was beautiful.

“How are you faring, princess?”

Your daze was interrupted by a baritone voice, deep enough to alert some of the men around the carriage. His gray eyes provided you support during the war. You couldn’t help but smile at the onyx-haired man riding by your right window. “Hello, Captain Levi.”

“Tch. Drop the title, brat. You and I both know that the war made us friends somewhat.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, Levi, to answer your question, I’m quite fine even though my parents just sold me to gain peace.”

Levi rose an eyebrow at the remark. “I am not one to have the capabilities to comfort someone but think of this as a way for you to help the kingdom without sacrificing your life for once. A nation without its heir is just like losing its king. I’ve seen you train when you’re starting as a squire and to the point when you got the position you deserve. This would be like a small walk in the gardens of your mother.” He fixated his stare on you, eyes dull yet determined to get his point across. “You have a role in every part of your life and this time, this is what the gods crafted for you. Do not fret, princess, you have more chances of being on the battlefield again.”

The words Levi spoke settled in you until you reached the capital of Idylle, a small island in the middle of a clear azure lake with walls resembling a huge castle. The bridge leading to the gates was lined with guards bearing the kingdom’s crest, all of them standing under the flapping flags bearing the symbol and colors of the royal family they serve — a harp surrounded by the colors of gold and blue. Their eyes warily followed the series of carriages, postures becoming stiff in the realization that the entourage holds the visitor their rivaling country sent. That was still the scenario when the series of carriages and horses passed by the marketplace, the vicinity on the lowest part of the walled capital, as if the wind even ceased to let the people gawk at the brightly-colored entourage making its way to the highest tier depicting mansions and the main plaza where their patron god stood tall and proud in front of the palace’s gates.

Everything looked magnificent.

It was a breath of fresh air from the glass castle you grew up in. Whereas your kingdom built a white, blinding home that withstood for hundreds of years, Idylle’s palace blended with the brick walls with its leveled mansard roofs and turrets. The gates were made of gold, welcoming you into a huge square of maze-like hedges, a fountain sitting in the middle of the labyrinth. Some gardeners stopped their daily chores to greet the carriages with a wave of their hat, seeing as you were going to be an addition to the royal family after the wedding in a few months. The steps leading to the main doors loomed in front of you with only a few servants waiting for you to step out of the carriage.

You took in a deep breath, nodding at Levi to open the door. When it swung open, you placed your hand on top of Levi’s as he guided you down the propped steps on the side of the carriage.

“Well,” Levi hummed from behind you, making you glance at him with a curious eye. “May the eternal spring never waver in your soul, Your Highness.” He bowed in front of you, only a dip of his head, a firm hand on his heart, and yet that was enough for you to reciprocate it with a kind smile.  

“Safe travels back, Captain Levi. May the gods protect you.”

The servant boys standing on top of the stairs jumped an inch in the air, going down in fleeting steps to get your luggage when they realized they were staring too long at you. You smiled at them in gratitude before stepping inside the palace as the guards opened the huge, gilded double doors in front of you.

The inside was just elegant as the exterior appearance of the entire capital. Everything was bathed in gold that seemed to rival the Sun and it made you look away for a moment. The grand hall followed the kingdom’s colors, from the turquoise carpets leading towards two winding staircases to the golden ceilings decorated with paintings of cherubs and the story of how their god of the winds came to be. One of the servant boys slightly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your curiosity of the myths laid on the ceiling. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, spurring him to whisper a faint, “Follow us, Your Highness.” They led you through hallways hung with tapestries and paintings, drawing rooms where the queen hosted her tea parties (Levi would have loved it), and ballrooms that have the same aesthetic as the foyer. Finally, you stopped in front of one of the apartments in the palace, the servant boy who told you to follow them brightened at the guard stationed there.

“Reiner!”

You waited patiently and let your eyes roam across the hallway.

“Hello, Falco, Udo.” The man, Reiner, smiled at the young boys before turning to you. He placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “Welcome to Gale, the capital of Idylle, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” you replied, motioning for him that it was quite alright to straighten his posture. “The palace looks lovely.”

“Indeed, it is.” Reiner opened the doors of your room and once again bowed with an outstretched hand towards the room. “Here are your chambers and I will be your guard for the entirety of your stay here in the palace, Your Highness.” You muttered a faint ‘thank you’ as you entered a drawing room with a door to the private chambers on the left and the bathrooms to the right. There was a table fit for two people, armchairs, and drawers with vases on top. A huge floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room, your feet carrying you there to open them, and letting the wind caress the curtains as they danced in the breeze. “If you ever need anything, you can call for my name and I will be here in an instant. Your chambermaid will be up here in a moment to help you prepare for the family dinner. For now, rest well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Reiner, Falco, Udo,” you smiled, retreating towards the private chambers.

You let out a sigh and stared at nothing for a few moments. It came down to this. To think that you were in enemy lands and was treated so well without any degradation came as a shock to you. The people so far that radiated negativity at your arrival were the guards stationed at the bridge and some of the townsfolk and nobles parading in the streets. As you think about the servant boys and Reiner’s calmness in receiving you in the palace, you immediately thought that it would be better than you expected.

You took off your heels under your dress, mind racing that this wouldn’t be so bad, and plopped on top of your canopied bed, its baby blue curtains protecting you from unknown disturbances and drowning you in a rapid of dreams.

-

The dinner didn’t go so well as you expected.

You donned a more suitable dress for indoor use, something that doesn’t include forcing your figure in a tight corset and yet presentable enough to be shown in the family dinner. You even placed a circlet of silver flowers on your head to compensate for the dull dress you chose, the description fitting after one of the chambermaids expressed their perplexity at how simple regarding design your dress has. Your light blue skirts fanned out around you as you made your way to one of the grand dining rooms reserved for family use. The choice of the color of the dress should be enough to express that you are willing to be on good terms with the family of the person you will marry.

But your first meeting with Annie Leonhart was interestingly disappointing.

Before departing from your kingdom, you learned the royal family and even Idylle’s customs. You learned how they always valued freedom and expression above all else, compared to your home that valued their ties with the gods more than the idea of getting rid of the shackles placed by your deities. You learned how they have this festival dedicated to celebrating the love they share with their patron god and how it spanned for half a month.

Finally, you learned about the indifferent Crown Heir of Idylle, the young woman with the piercing blue oceanic eyes sitting in front of you at the dinner table. She was known for building up walls that discouraged some of her engagements with other royalties across the continent. She was so closed off that she didn’t even glance in your direction for one second. Her hair was done in an elaborate bun wrapping around her head in a braid, her small, thin diadem resting against her golden hair. Annie kept her gaze on her plate, even playing with her food mindlessly for a couple of minutes before sighing and taking a bite of the chicken the maids served. No conversation was exchanged and the dinner ultimately became one of the most awkward meals you had. The king even tried to engage his daughter for casual talk but Annie dismissed them with a hum.

The queen had to apologize to you several times after the dinner, with Annie huffing at the back and eager to get out of the room. Despite how much she was against this engagement, you still bowed at her before you retreated to your room.

Now dressed in your nightgown, you stared at the canopy of your bed, already missing your home the more you fixed your attention on the bundled-up curtains. You badly needed to hit a straw dummy with your sword to let out your frustrations. Of all the royalties present in your continent, why did it have to be you that was shipped to this measly forced marriage? There were still so many solutions that could lead to a peace treaty but why was this the only one the kings and queens could present to their courts? A sigh escaped your chest once again at the thought of actually getting to know Annie. You laid on your side, curling your legs towards your chest and prayed that the god of dreams will visit you sooner than expected.

A knock reverberated through your chambers, the sound making you sit up.

You went to the receiving room and opened the door. You kept the small hitch of your breath in your chest at the sight of Annie and her half-lidded eyes. There was no one in the hallways. You figured that she sent Reiner away for some privacy, meeting the blue irises you likened to brilliant sapphires. 

“What brings you here, Your Highness?” you asked, opening the door wider.

“Annie.” She saw how your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Call me Annie, we’re betrothed after all.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Annie,” you tested her name softly, missing the way she inhaled too sharply at your voice. 

Annie reciprocated the gesture by saying your name. The two of you stared at each other and it felt like an eternity before she looked away to focus on the receiving room behind you. She noticed how your eyes held kindness underneath the star-like shine even though she showed hostility during your first dinner with her family. Your hair was disheveled and it didn’t take her a minute to realize she might have woken you up from a good night’s rest. The journey from Glaieul to Idylle was a long one. You deserve all the rest you can get, “I apologize if I woke you up but I feel like I should do this before dragging it out.” You once again raised an eyebrow so she took out a leather box, opening it to reveal a ring with a holographic gem showing teal and pink in the middle. The Leonhart family ring. “Here.”

“Oh.”

You were gawking at the beautiful piece of jewelry, with Annie taking the matter in her own hands. She took the ring out of the box and pocketed the container. Her hand reached out to hold your palm against hers, sliding the ring in your ring finger. Your hand still hovered in front of you after Annie retracted hers to find their place by her side. She continued to eye your mesmerized visage with a half-lidded gaze, clearing her throat to catch your attention. You turned to her with a small apology for spacing out.

“It’s fine,” Annie waved off. “It’s yours starting today.” She turned away from you and went down the hallways but not before saying a “Good night, [Name].”

-

The entire week of your stay in Idylle was uneventful, to say the least.

Annie kept her distance from you after that night she gave you their family ring. It left you thinking that you should also gift her the [Last Name] ring your family treasured for centuries. The ring was placed in a small cushioned jewelry box that you opened and propped on one of your night tables. Your conscience was telling you to give it to her but there wasn’t exactly any moment alone with her let alone just passing by her in the hallways. The blonde princess made it her mission to never let your fates meet the more time you spent in the capital. You then decided that she probably didn’t want this engagement to happen.

But she gave you the ring. Wasn’t that a strong signal that Annie accepted you as her betrothed, unlike the others before you?

You shook that thought as you focused on giving consecutive hits on the dummy in front of you. Two days before, you proposed to the king to let you have a moment alone in the training grounds for about two hours or so to keep you in shape. He reluctantly agreed, but not without a side stare at the queen. They heard of your glorious feats during the war, how you managed to become one of the Commanders of a battalion of soldiers tasked with being in the frontlines and how you won constant ambushes against Idylle’s numbers. Two hours of training became three until here you are, still not stopping as you finished every single dummy in the private training grounds. With your day spent outside, you thought it would be nice to have a nice dip in the bathtub before dinner.

In your walk towards your chambers, you spotted Annie in one of the drawing rooms, sitting in the window seats with a book of war tactics in hand. You recognized the author as one of the revolutionaries mentioned to you by your tutor. 

“That’s a nice book,” you couldn’t help but mention. Annie turned to you unfazed by your interruption though there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “The book mostly describes battle formations but I think the author likened it to every situation on the battlefield. For instance, the phalanx was native to the empire of Great Findara and it was great for preventing casualties until it was overpowered by the infantry tactic of the city nation of Khisfire where every man has a role and a weapon depending on their group. The latter was more on the long-range yet melee way of taking back the territory.”

Annie hummed. “Do royal tutors of Glaieul teach this to their students?”

“Oh, no. I learned it while taking on the role of a squire.”

She once again hummed. “It completely slipped my mind that you are one of the Commanders in your military. You were ruthless as the folks in the noble plaza say, blood tainting your hands from doing raids in the border villages of Idylle.” Her tone was like a jab to your side, like an arrow tearing through your skin. “I know it was a time of war and desperate times call for desperate measures but our people didn’t deserve to experience the massacres.”

“They were far from being massacres,” you gritted your teeth.

Annie scoffed. “Then what were they? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I can still remember the story two years ago of a young girl wearing her lilac cape in the bloodbath, eyes so dull that you can see your reflection on it. What’s to say that this engagement is a hoax plotted by your parents to assassinate my family for you to win a territory you greatly needed because of the resources?” She closed her book with too much force, bitterly spitting out the next words, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree as the saying goes.”

“If you question my being here then why did you give me your family ring, Annie?” you asked, your body now facing the tense young woman by the window. You cursed at how the light made her look angelic like the girl the god of the winds sacrificed his life to before he ascended to the heavens. “This peace treaty is everything my family wanted even though hundreds of our soldiers died in vain for not meeting the ends of what they fought for. If you’re saying that my parents placed me in an undercover predicament to add to the weight of deaths on my shoulders, I suggest you tell your father to put a stop to our betrothal. Because I don’t even want to be here, Your Highness, and it would do me such a huge honor. I would rather spend my time out with my fellow soldiers than pretending I’m some dainty princess my family sheltered when in fact, I was anything but that.

“Have a good day and I hope you enjoy the rest of the book. Chapter ten was a personal favorite of mine,” you dismissed, turning towards the direction of the apartments.

Once you reached your door, Reiner straightened his posture, faltering for a second when he noticed the cross look on your face. He chose not to say anything as he opened the door for you. You took off your boots right beside one of the armchairs of the receiving room and immediately went inside your private chambers. The glint of the ring on your night table mocked you. You stomped over the furniture and forcefully closed the small jewelry box, throwing the container inside one of the drawers.

Maybe sleep will be much kinder to you, the sheets enveloping you in an embrace you wish your mother can only give in this time of need.

-

You were radiant under the harsh heat of the Sun.

Annie was scheduled to have a free slot in her timetable after being included in one of the court meetings regarding the resiliency plan of some of the villages in the borders that managed to survive the Glaieulian raids. She suggested that the villages should be moved to one of the more remote villages nearer the capital, where the terrain is suitable for growing crops and starting small farms. There wouldn’t be an issue with overpopulation because the recommended village was home to the elderly and children. The newly situated families will also aid the old people as they go about their mundane activities. It was a sound suggestion and her father was also considering it. Annie hoped that would be the case as she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper. After the meeting, she stopped by one of the windows overlooking the training grounds, and there you are.

Your small argument that happened a few days before stirred some guilt in Annie’s stomach. 

You weren’t even part of the raids she was talking about. They were led by a commander by the name of Erwin Smith. The stories about you that she heard were from Idyllic soldiers that suffered a lot during the war, not from the people of the villages Erwin raided. Annie couldn’t deny it but she did step out of the line by accusing you of being an assassin. That was too far-fetched. She was just stuck in her suspicions when she was supposed to be getting to know you.

All she knew about you was that you were adept with a sword and can name any tactic written in books about wars.

Annie saw a maid cleaning one of the vases in the hallway. “Miranda.”

The maid turned around, curtsying in a haste before patting her uniform. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Can you prepare a tray of iced apple juice and some cakes?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Annie nodded. “And can you place this note on the tray and deliver it to [Name]’s room?”

The maid was taken aback. “Well, it would be my pleasure, Princess.”

“Thank you.” With that, Annie walked away without a glance back.

Curious eyes followed the princess’ form, the maid finding herself looking at your figure sparring with Reiner and a smile instantly greeted her face. This could be a turning point in the betrothal because she could’ve sworn Annie had a small blush on her cheeks at the mention of the other princess. 

After your training, a tray of sweets and a pitcher with glasses of apple juice awaited you in your receiving room. You wanted to ask Reiner if he asked some of the chambermaids to prepare the afternoon snack but a folded note caught your eye. With one hand gripping the towel around your shoulders, you read the note, your face warming up at the short yet endearing sentence.

Indulge in these, they taste better after a good training session.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, you thought as you munched on a sprinkled cookie.

-

Her eyes kept following a trail of gold tulle, silks, and laces, never looking away the moment her blue eyes laid themselves upon a beauty that rivaled the goddess of oneiric realms, the most ethereal goddess of the heavens. You were dressed in an off-shoulder gown with loose sleeves reaching your elbow, the bodice carefully wrapping around your torso in the most flattering way possible, and skirts adorned with silver gems. In a sea of aristocrats with fabulous dresses, you were a sight to behold in this ball dedicated to commemorate the truce between Glaieul and Idylle as well as announce the engagement between the two countries. You were starlight personified, shining in Annie’s eyes under the lights of tens of chandeliers in the ballroom. 

You were on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with your friends from your home kingdom. There was a tall brunette that seemed to be star-struck because of you just like Annie, a black-haired young woman who was smiling slightly, and a blonde who was engaged in an animated conversation with you. Your smiles were refreshing, to say the least, Annie seeing it for the first time since you came to their palace. Your laughs are genuine and it came out of you so easily when in the company of your friends.

Annie visibly stiffened when you turned around and smiled at her, gesturing for her to come to join the small huddle. Your three friends tensed noticeably at her half-lidded stare, with you reassuring them that she’s not that indifferent all the time. 

As if sensing Annie’s hesitance, Reiner chuckled behind her. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself to them, Your Highness.”

“I’m getting to that, Reiner.”

A laugh came from the blonde man. “She’s good for you. That much I can tell. The kindest soul I’ve ever met in my life.”

Again, guilt pooled in Annie’s chest. Those words are the opposite of what she spewed out to you the last time you talked. She called you a power-hungry monster who ravaged the war with no care on your shoulders. She didn’t even apologize yet. Annie sighed, “I know.” Then, she pulled up her skirts, navigated the ballroom, and stopped directly beside you. Her blue eyes scrutinized the three people you grew up with, with the brunette and black-haired woman stepping a small step forward to assert their dominance while the blonde pinched their backs to warn them not to step out of line in another kingdom. “Hello.” She transferred her eyes on you afterward, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubbing it in a comforting motion. “I hope you enjoyed the ball so far.” Those words were directed to you.

You only nodded with a smile. “Annie, this is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They’re my friends when I was growing up in the glass castle.” Annie nodded. “Everyone, this is Annie, my fiancé.”

“We know,” Eren, the long-haired man in a low ponytail murmured with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eren,” Armin reprimanded. He smiled at a stone-faced Annie. “Thank you for making [Name] happy! I can sense that she has a different air around her while we talked. It must be because of you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her hand coming into a still on the small of your back. It was a good thing her left hand was hidden away because they would immediately think that you didn’t accept the engagement. She glanced at the ring nestling in your finger, a perfect match against the golden train of your dress. Realizing that she created an awkward stretch of silence, Annie could only nod wordlessly before shifting her attention to you again. It seems like you’re the only one who can calm her nerves down inside the vast ballroom. She never took her gaze on you even as you continued the conversation between your friends.

Her mind was fogged with thoughts of only you throughout the ball.

The two of you excused yourself from the trio when Annie’s father called for everyone’s attention from the front of the huge chambers. “Everyone, kind souls and pure-hearted people of the continent, since tonight is all for enjoyment, the waltz of the ball will now commence.” His blue eyes went to his daughter, standing at the side of his throne. “The moment everyone is waiting for — the first waltz.”

She rehearsed this too many times for when a proper betrothal comes into play but why is her hand shaking when she outstretched it in front of you? You must have felt it because you flashed a comforting smile her way. The two of you went to the middle of the ballroom, the guests staring expectantly at the birth of a romance. They were wrong because you hate her and she hates you. Right? Her hatred for you will never waver for killing her people even though you look like a descended goddess with the lights of the chandeliers raining on you. Hatred must be fueling her heart to beat faster than ever, why she seemed to trip over her skirts and how her words stumbled in her tongue. That must be it.

The dance slowly made its way to the part where she struggled, dipping you as gracefully as she can. Before it happened, you whispered to her, “Please don’t make me fall.”

Annie’s voice was soft, for your ears only. “I promise, my princess.”

It truly was a birth of a romance, the two of you unaware of it all.

-

“Come on, Reiner!” You shouted at him from across the training field. “Come at me with all you’ve got.”

The blonde man hesitantly shifted into position as he eyed you. “Are you sure, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He remembered the threatening look he received from Annie before this training session and he would like all of his limbs intact, thank you very much. “I just don’t want your chambermaid to nag me again after last time.” He managed a cut on your arm your previous session and you had to wear a long-sleeved dress in such stifling weather.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “I can handle it, Reiner. You don’t have to worry about it. Plus, I can dress my wounds perfectly.”

Reiner didn’t believe that. Your skills in covering up your wounds were lacking despite being a soldier. The most you could do was apply some salve on your bruises, that was it. He had no choice because the past month he spent his days with you, you were like a persistent little child that reminded him of his younger cousin. He hoped that you two wouldn’t meet. “Alright, here I go, Your Highness.”

Parry after parry could be heard in the private training field. You were doing fine in deflecting Reiner’s sword but your ankle immediately ached after shifting your body, leaning back to avoid the sharp edge of the knight’s weapon. You let out a huff as you dropped on the ground, jolting when Reiner called for you to stay alert. Seeing the glint of his sword, you rolled away and the pain on your ankle flared, even more, traveling through your calf. It also didn’t help that you received a cut on the side of your bandaged arm. You picked yourself up despite the throbbing pain on your ankle and arm, now being on the defensive as Reiner continuously struck you with his sword. He then circled his weapon around yours, throwing your sword on the side and pushing you to the ground with the tip of his weapon. That was the time where your ankle finally twisted into a sprain.

“Ah!”

“Princess?” Reiner’s tone became alarmed, dropping to your level and taking off your boots in an instant. His hands ghosted around your swollen ankle, not knowing what to do. “Gods, Annie’s going to kill me!”

“Annie?” You asked between pants. “What does this have to do with her?”

He only shook his head, carrying you in his arms and into the palace. His steps were hurried and the maids gasped at the sight of your red ankle. “Please prepare a bucket of ice and bring it to Princess [Name]’s private chambers.” He turned to you. “Hang on for a moment, Your Highness, we’re nearing your room. Just a little bit more.” Reiner entered your room and gently placed you on your bed. “I’m going to be taking off your other shoe, Your Highness.”

“Reiner, I think I’ll take it from here.”

Reiner stiffened, slowly turning his head to the entrance of your private chambers. Annie was impatiently standing with a bucket of ice in both hands, eyes glacially set on the blonde man kneeling on the floor in front of your confused form. She didn’t care if Reiner trembled in front of her. She vividly remembered telling the knight to never hurt you (she didn’t see the cut you had last training session because Annie was in another court meeting involving the incoming tax collection of various villages). Annie glanced at your ankle, barely grimacing at the state of it before gesturing for Reiner to get out of the room. The large blonde man took his leave, bowing at the two of your hastily and closing the doors with finality.

Annie mimicked Reiner’s position, kneeling in one knee to place your injured foot on her thigh. She didn’t wear any dresses for the day and it made her look dashing. The image implanted itself in your brain. Her hands are gentle against your skin, your cheeks flaring at the contact. Her features were contorted in a downturned one that showed how bothered she was. 

“How did this happen?”

Your eyes settled on the top drawer of your nightstand. “I dodged Reiner’s blow and I twisted my ankle in the process.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Annie scoffed. “That’s clearly obvious.” She said nothing more while dipping your foot in the ice bath. She lifted her head too fast when you winced at the coldness of the water. “Deal with it. We wouldn’t want this to be worse than it already is.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you dryly mentioned.

“What makes you think that my being worried is all fake?” You’re silent, Annie choosing the moment to continue the words she didn’t have any control over. “When the maids prepared this bucket of ice in the kitchens, I was out of the council meeting. When I saw then bringing this up to your chambers, I was alarmed and my mind was a mess of thoughts concerning what happened to you.” At each word, her face held a multitude of emotions that you never saw on her. Her lips became pursed whilst you wordlessly stared at her. “I am not pretending to care for you. How could I pretend when I’m already feeling foreign emotions when it comes to you? It’s my first time feeling this way so I don’t know if I can categorize this as falling in love. But it feels like it. So, for the love of the gods, can’t you see that I’m rambling because of you?”

You didn’t reply, instead, you reached out to the drawer where you kept that ring.

“What are you doing? You should be still right now.”

You pulled out the jewelry box and flipped it open, showing the blonde the ring fashioned in a vine, the centerpiece being a group of small gladiolus flowers with diamonds in their centers. 

Annie’s cheeks reddened, flustered at the pretty jewelry. “What?”

Words never came out of you as you took Annie’s left hand. The ring looked pretty on her, the two of you admiring it after you slid the engagement jewelry in her ring finger.

“I now accept you as my fiancé, my future lover, and holder of my heart. Annie Leonhart, may our eternal spring bloom for centuries, and may your god of the winds bless us with his idyllic ballads.” Annie’s eyes were wide and you can see your reflection on them, along with constellations that lit up her irises. You placed your forehead against hers, looking straight into her flushed face. “They were right, this is the birth of a romance.”

And as you two kissed for the first time, the gods were rejoicing in their thrones, each of your prayers answered — your love finally etched in a whimsical melody. 

[eirikaanemo]

His Fight

Venti x GN!Reader

1.9 Words

Warnings: Frostbite, assault (not sexual), near death experience

Part 1: His Lyre

His kiss to your cheek was quick but sent a warmth blooming across your face, contrasting with the coolness of his lips.

“Of course,” you mumble, embarrassed. “It was your lyre anyway.”

“It was,” he agreed. “But you believed me. And that really does mean a lot to me. Thank you, really.”

“I’ve always believed you, Venti,” you tell him softly, “both Venti and Barbatos. I believe in you. Even if you didn’t bring the lyre back in one piece, you brought yourself back. And I know you tried your best. You always do, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

Venti chuckles out a nervous, “ehe~” and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. He doesn’t try to hide the blush dusting his cheeks at your sincere words. “I’m not sure I deserve that, but thank you anyway.”

The two of you stand in silence for a little while after that. It’s not uncomfortable silence though. There’s a pleasant and kind of tingly feeling warming you from head to toe. Venti’s humming a little song and staring thoughtfully out into the distance; and you’re working up the courage to try and hold his hand.

Then your eyes accidentally meet the Traveler’s. Thankfully they seem to have been busy with Paimon while you and Venti were talking, so things aren’t as awkward as they could have been. They’re still kind of a third wheel though, and you’ve done that enough times to know how awkward it is.

Both of your eyes are caught by movement to the right of Traveler. Venti’s still oblivious, but it was enough of a tell for Traveler to be ready when two fatui pyro agents burst out of the brush. They drew their sword and stood their ground despite being outnumbered. Knife met sword as they exchanged blows.

While the fight attracted Venti’s attention, you took the chance to scan the area. It was uncommon for fatui agents to attack like this. Especially in a public area like the cathedral, and… there!

You push Venti out of the way just in time for the blast of ice to miss him, though it hits you dead on. The strength of it had both knocked you off your feet and frozen you solidly to the ground. Squirming some to test your cryo prison, you found an arm and both your legs to be solidly frozen to the ground. A hiss leaves your mouth as the cold starts to seep through your clothes and all the way down to your bones. Frostbite.

A sultry chuckle escapes your attacker as she approaches the two of you, with two cicin mages at her heels. “How touching,” she coos. “You sacrificed yourself for his sake.” She comes to a stop a couple feet away. Venti has very carefully not tensed up, pretending to not be affected, but you can see the wary look in his eyes.

Glancing over at Traveler, your heart falls. They’re still being held up by the pyro fatui agents. There will be no help from them.

She turns to Venti and smirks. “At last, Mondstadt’s rodent ruler in the flesh.” Step by step she draws nearer. “Scurrying through the streets, looking for leftovers.” She passes you, not giving you a second glance. Tilting her head, she quirks an eyebrow and gestures at Venti. “Mondstadt calls this a god?”

Oh she did not just go there.

You may be stuck in ice, and it may be slowly freezing you, but you’re not helpless. Your anemo vision is a weight against your chest. Most may choose to flaunt their visions, but you choose to wear it like a pendant but under your shirt. It may garner less respect, but it also garners less attention. Which is really helpful in situations like this.

The first thing you have to do is take out those cicin mages. With slight hand movements you slowly steal the air out of their lungs- and keep it there. If you’re careful enough, and you are, you can knock them out without them making a sound.

While waiting for them to drop, you keep an eye on Venti and the lady’s exchange.

“Resident rodent beats invasive vermin,” Venti quips.

The lady’s face darkens with rage. “Don’t you dare speak back to me, insolent bard.” She responds, stretching out her arm and summoning a gust in another attempt to freeze him. Crossing his arms, Venti launches himself into the air to avoid it. In return, he reaches for his lyre, which transforms into a bow, and he lets a volley of anemo arrows fly.

She easily knocks each one aside with a volley of ice crystals. “Look at you, absentee archon of Mondstadt… how impotent you have become.” Another barrage of ice rushes towards him with another gesture from the lady.

Venti easily knocked them off course with a blast of wind. “That smirk of yours looks out of place. Did you steal it from your master’s face?”

At that moment you realized three things. The cicin mages are knocked out so you should probably let them go before you kill them. The lady just got angrier than before. Not good. And you’re losing feeling in your legs. That’s definitely not good.

You let out a quiet sound of pain as the pins and needles reach further up your chest towards your neck. The moment he hears that noise, Venti’s attention snaps to you. He freezes. Your lips are blue and your skin is growing pale. He has to do something, fast.

“Cicin mages, attack!” The lady commands, trying to take advantage of his distraction. When nothing happens she turns around to find them where you left them on the ground. A growl escapes her throat as she turns on you.

“I thought that was enough to keep you down and out of the fight,” she said darkly. “Apparently I was wrong. I suppose I’ll need to put you down permanently.” Grabbing a dagger of ice out of thin air, she went for the throat.

“Hey, keep your eyes on me!” Venti calls. “This is my fight!” A flash of turquoise light lit up the area, blinding her and giving her pause. Immediately Venti was at your side, melting the dagger with the warm west wind and pushing the lady away. He donned whites and golds now instead of greens and browns. Feathery wings stretched out behind him. Before you stood the anemo archon, Barbatos. And he was angry.

“How dare you,” he hissed. “How dare you attack them! Leave now, before I truly lose my temper. I do not delight in bloodshed, but blood will be shed if you continue. Begone. And tell Tsaritsa that she had best watch herself. I may not be as powerful as she thinks I ought to be, but I am powerful enough to protect myself and my city.”

And with that, beaten but spiteful, the lady left. “Vanessa,” he spoke. “Would you make sure she leaves? We wouldn’t want her to get… lost.” A hawks cry echoed through the plains as she accepted his request. After all, this was her land too and Venti is her friend.

With that taken care of, all of Venti’s attention is on you.

Usually this would be a good thing, but this attention is because you’re turning blue and starting to lose feeling in your chest. He melts the ice and sweeps you into an embrace, wrapping his wings around you, partly for comfort and partly for warmth. “Thank celestia you’re okay,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. And I’m so glad I haven’t lost you like I did my friend all those years ago.”

You hum wordlessly in response and huddle closer to the warmth he provided. “I’m glad you’re okay too,” you whisper quietly.

Then Venti looks up. The flash of his transformation drew quite the crowd. But, most importantly, it drew Barbara out of the Cathedral.

“Barbara, I am not able to fully heal them myself. The frostbite has gotten too far. Would you kindly lend your assistance?”

“Of course, Lord Barbatos!” She exclaimed, hurrying forward to help heal you.

“Venti, Barabra,” he gently chastised. “I may be Barbatos, but I far prefer to go by Venti.”

“Venti it is then,” she concluded. “I… I believe we owe both of you an apology,” she admits as she focuses more on healing you. “You were telling the truth the whole time, Venti. And they were the only one to believe you. And we can see how that turned out.” She lets out a sigh as she pulls her hands away. “That should do it. How do you feel?”

“I’m still a little cold, but I’ll be okay,” you inform her. Venti holds you a little closer in response. Your skin is still a shade paler than it should be and you’re shaking with cold. But you can feel even your toes and fingers again. Everything will be okay in time.

Over the next few days as you recover, the news of Barbatos’ reappearance and his true identity spread throughout the town. While Venti’s power and ability grew significantly, the revenant and awed looks he received in public made him uncomfortable. Things did get better but it took a while.

“Do you regret doing it?” You asked him one night.

“Revealing my identity as Barbatos? Kind of,” he confessed. “But saving your life? Never. And there wasn’t another way I could have done it. My form as Venti is not able to wield as much power as I can in my winged form. Without revealing myself, I would not have been able to save you. So no, I don’t really regret it. I never could.”

You snuggle closer to him on the couch and entwine one of your hands with his. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime,” he responds back, just as quietly. He gently squeezes your hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve just brought such a bright light into my life since I met you. I’m not sure I could handle the dark anymore.”

You feel your face flush with warmth and he laughs a little in response. “Aww, did I fluster you?” He teases, poking at your cheek. You groan and let go of his hand to bury your face in your hands. He frowns a little. “How now, you don’t need to hide.”

When you peak out from your hands he gives you a wide smile. “See? It’s just me. It’s okay!”

As soon as your hands are away from your face he reaches forward to cup the side of your face. “Hey,” he says softly as he looks into your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe back. And just like that, his lips are on yours. It lasts an eternity and is over in a second as he pulls away. Now he’s the one who’s shy, looking away from you with pink dusting his cheeks. “Was that, um- Was that okay?”

“Hmm,” you ponder. “I don’t know. You may need to try again.”

Surprised, his head snaps back to face you. “Really?” He squeaks a little too quickly.

“Really,” you confirm, tugging on his braids to bring him back in for another kiss.

Neither of you are sure how long you spent kissing on the couch, but both of you will remember this moment fondly for the rest of your lives.

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader) 18+

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovely peopless! 🌸 I have had the worst writer’s block and honestly it felt like this part was going to go on forever. But we’re here and we’re over it 🤗 I’m actually quite proud of how this one turned out despite everything so I shall keep it short and sweet but I will say please please read part one before you read this if you haven’t already, this part won’t make sense otherwise but that’s it for the nagging I swear 😚 sooo without further adieu I give you part two 😁😁 Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

Summary: It’s been half a year and you’ve settled quite nicely into your job at the Garrison, as well as all the perks that come with it. Your relationship with Tommy takes an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within John he hadn’t known was simmering...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, explicit mentions of sex, smoking

PART ONE PART THREE PART FOUR

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It’s been 6 months since your first shift at the Garrison, and running the bar isn’t the only thing you've settled into.

After spending the night together in his office, you and Tommy came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You provide him with some much needed stress release, in return he provides you with the love and adoration you so desperately crave, even if only for the brief moments spent in your bed.

As the intimate meetings became more and more frequent, there was still no doubt in your mind that you were little more than a functional lay to the man.

Truthfully, you were anything but functional because with every encounter Tom could feel his heart falling for you.

At first, it was how you'd light a cigarette for him right after sex, plucking the stick from your lips to tuck it between his before you lit your own; it was the way your wild curls would encompass your face like a halo at even the smallest tilt of your head; it was the way you could handle any rowdy punter at the bar with a few choice words and a look that could put even the hardest man in his place. And now? Now, it was absolutely everything about you. Tom found his head clouded with thoughts of you constantly, the only relief taken from being in your presence.

What started out as a bit of harmless fun, had now become a nightly occurence.

Tonight being no exception, you skillfully roll over him, careful not to place any unwanted weight on delicate body parts. Tom pulls on his cigarette, inhaling the harsh smoke as he admires the after-sex glow radiating off your naked form. The only marrs on your skin were the hickeys he made in an eager bid to claim you as his own.

You set about gathering your clothes, unaware of the adoration swimming in the blue irises behind.

“What're you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave” you chime, now all too accustomed to the usual routine of sex and a quick smoke before walking home or sneaking Tom out.

Returning to the bed in hopes of retrieving your underwear, Tommy’s large hand wraps around your thigh holding you in place, and any thoughts of the discarded fabric are dashed.

“Stay.”

It was not a question but a statement, the silent pleading in his eyes a far too familiar feeling of your own.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you sayi-”

“I know what I said, that's not what I want anymore” he interrupts, perfectly aware of the words about to be repeated back to him.

Straddling his waist, his hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs drawing invisible circles on the soft skin beneath as your hands trail mindlessly along his toned chest, goosebumps appearing in their wake.  

“What do you want then?” The question comes out breathily, and your heart pounds against your ribcage at such an intensity you were sure it was audible.

“I wan’t you, Y/N.”

There it was. The words you’d been waiting to hear for what felt like an eternity.

You ignore the niggling voice in the back of your mind; the voice reminding you that this decleration of- of- whatever it is, was coming from the mouth of the wrong Shelby brother.

“Is that so, Mr Shelby?”

Tommy is cast back to the very first time you’d given yourself to him - bent over his desk and shamelessly moaning his name as he pounded you with such force he worried the aged wood might just give out from under you - and he remembers just why he’d had this change of heart in the first place.

You were perfect. Plain and simple.

Of course you had your quirks, everyone did. But try as he might he couldn’t find a single one that put him off. The more time spent together the more he was convinced God had crafted you entirely for his sake.

“Yes Y/N that is so.” Tommy’s fingers connect with your waist and your angelic giggles fill the air, the smile tracing his lips deepening.

Flipping over so that his body is snug between your legs, he continues his relentless tickle attack, relishing the feel of your body squirming underneath him as you desperately try to get away.

“To-tommy sto-stop tickling me!”

Your dainty hands barely manage to prise one hand from your waist before the other reconnects, rendering your muscles useless as you collapse into laughter.

“O-okay you win! I’m yo-yours, all yours!”

“Ah the magic words.”

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Tommy’s beautiful face beaming down at you, having obviously accomplished his mission. Draping your slender arms around his neck, you pull him into a kiss and his hands roam your body, tracing along each and every curve before settling for burying in your curls.

For the first time in six months, you and Tommy made love. Well, the first and second time, to be exact.

Hours later and Tommy is peeling his body off of yours, lungs begging for oxygen as the fragments of your mind recollect themselves - the ecstasy of your orgasms positively mind blowing.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you mind if we, um, maybe wait before telling everyone. I just don’t fancy them sticking their oar in, m’ really quite content just us” you muse, shifting into place beside him. Your touch dances along his collarbones, exploring every groove and crevice on its travels to his jawline.

Eyes closed, a lop-sided grin gracing those oh so plump lips. Silky brown waves marvellously tousled from hours of your fingers raking through them.

The man truly was a work of art.

Tommy hums softly in response, one lid opening to peer down at you before capturing your hand in his, lightly pecking each of your fingers along the way.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

With the ghost of his soft lips lingering, your focus shifts to the rhythmic beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the ever so slight twitch of his fingers. And so, wrapped securely in the arms of tender loving care, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning your small figure is weaving throughout the back streets of Small Heath, now an expert on the roads less traveled by Peaky Blinders and Co.

With blood pounding in your ear drums and your heart thuddering in your chest, you sneak through the creaky door making a beeline for the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?”

You reluctantly enter the kitchen, finding Polly at the breakfast table with a cup of tea to her left, an ashtray to her right and a heap of papers inbetween.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“No where.”

“That hickey on your neck says otherwise” she smirks, finally raising her head to look at you.

Your hand pointlessly rushes to cover the purple bruise darkening by the minute on your jugular. “Shit!”

“So how is Tommy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said how is Tommy?” Polly repeats the question, panic creeping up your throat like bile.

“You mean... you know?”

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own nephew sneaking in and out of this house every night. Give me some credit” she quips. “Don’t worry your little secret is safe with me.”

The parilysing fear immediately dissolves and you plunk yourself down at the table, a dreamy sigh leaving your mouth as you lay your head to rest in your palms.

“Oh Pol, it’s wonderful! He’s so- so-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“-so perfect!”

“Y/N, he’s Tommy Shelby - perfect isn’t a word within that man’s description.”

“Well it is in mine” you mumble.

“Anyway since you’re here you can help me. We’re having a gathering tonight and I want everyone here so I need you to go and tell them. In the lounge, 6pm sharp.”

“Fine” you huff, rising from the table.

“Oh and Y/N, make sure you cover that thing up before you see John, we don’t need any more murders around here.”

Red hot flames lick at your cheeks and Polly’s lips stretch into a smirk once again, chuckling to herself as she returns to the paperwork before her.

By 6 o’clock all members of the Shelby clan are slowly trickling into the lounge. Tommy and yourself are the first to arrive and he immediately chooses the right corner seat, guiding your body into the empty space beside him.

“Alright Pol” Tom greets his aunt not bothering to make eye contact as he notices a stray curl fall into your eyes, gently tucking it back in it’s rightful place before leaving a quick kiss on your temple.

Polly’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she hands you both a whiskey.

“You’ll want to be a bit more discreet than that when the others turn up.”

“Yes thank you Pol” Tom replies sarcastically as you direct your attention to ridding your jumper of non-existent fluff.

“Alright Polly.”

Your head snaps to the source of the gruff voice, butterflies fluttering against the confines of your ribcage as you lock eyes with John.

“Ye alright love” he plants a kiss on the top of your head before collapsing into the free corner of the sofa.

John was a man of few words, those that didn’t know him might even say simple. But when it came to you, the unspoken language of Jonathon Shelby was one of the few you could speak, thus giving rise to the overly affectionate nature of your relationship.

If this was a few years ago - before Esme, before Tommy, before that tart in the back alley, when everything was right with the world - you’d be tucked up next to John, curled into his side with a strong arm wrapped firmly around your waist. His fingers would absentmindedly trail along your skin, a private joke or snarky comment whispered into your ear every now and then. And when he laughed, oh god when he laughed, each muscle would flex around you drawing you in closer, forcing every fibre of your being to fight the urge to kiss him.

But this was not a few years ago and things had changed, the harsh truth slapping you in the face like a wet fish as you catch sight of Esme trawling into the lounge; each butterfly erupting into a tiny globe of fire as she settles herself between you and John.

How beautifully ironic you thought, shifting yourself closer to Tommy.

Eventually Ada and Arthur arrive and the night rolls on. The whiskey burns through your veins, blending with your blood on its way straight to your head. With a fair amount of Dutch courage under your belt your body was craving the intimacy it was used to on a night like this. So taking your chances you snuggle into Tommy, allowing yourself to relax when you feel his arm instinctively snaking around you.

The action - which could easily be passed off as a caring moment between two friends - hadn’t gone unnoticed, and every muscle under John’s control seized up at the sight.

More stories poured out, along with many more drinks - you’d half a mind to suspect Polly was purposely fueling you with alcohol - and the more brazen you become, your legs now laying over Tommy’s with his left hand resting comfortably on your thighs.

You gently tap on the waistband of his suit trousers, and hope that Tommy understands your silent request. The movement was much too slight to draw any attention and he brings his left hand to scratch an itch that wasn’t there, before casually placing it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze when he’s sure nobody has noticed.

He forgot, however, that Ada was positioned with a clear viewpoint of the loving act, sitting smugly on the arm next to him as she put two and two together. She thought the pair of you had been awfully happy lately, much too happy for it to be coincidental.

As everyone focused their attention on Polly and her latest crazy tale, John’s jaw clenched and unclenched for the hundredth time, the muscle aching under the constant tension. He sat on the other side of the sofa, soundlessly raging as he thought over the countless nights you’d been draped over him like that, whispering and giggling, eyes glistening with mischief as he shared another secret joke with you. Now here you were, draped over his brother, whispering and giggling as your eyes glistened with what he hoped was the large amount of whiskey you’d ingested, and not the same mischief you once shared with him.

Esme attempted to replicate your position, and she was met with John’s hand roughly pushing her aside. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t take it - it’s not as if you’d ever be stupid enough to fall for his brother’s plan.

“Tommy stop!” you giggle, brushing his hand from your curls as he pretends to mess them up.

That was enough. “C’mon Es we’re going.”

Your laughter dies down as you look up at John, his blue orbs cold and hard as they stare back at you.

For once, you couldn’t place the unvoiced emotion set on his face. For once, you couldn’t read the man you once considered your best friend.

[sunnysidekit]

Summary: The road to loving Frankie Morales is tough, but you’d do it all again if you had to. And again, and again, and again…

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader (no y/n)

Warnings: Language, major character death but not the permanent kind, (this is literally just a series of au’s in which the reader becomes kind of self-aware), nondescriptive smut (minors, please skip this one!).

Word count: 2.6k

A/N at the end

My masterlist

“Hey,” Frankie shouts, his voice only just carrying over the heavy rain. “Hey, wait up!”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, but you don’t stop running. You can’t stop running. Not after what just happened. Why did you decide to tell him how you felt about him, again? Worst decision of your life.

“Hey!” Frankie shouts again, even louder this time. He’s quickly gaining on you; blame that on his Delta training. You keep running, looking left and right for a spot between the old buildings to shelter from the rain. Something just big enough for one person to hide from their best friend would be great, but you doubt you’ll find a spot like that.

Just when you spot an alcove the size of a small closet you step into a puddle that’s way deeper than it looks, and you smack against the pavement.

You hear Frankie curse from behind you, the splashing of his boots in the puddles getting louder and louder until he stops right next to you and crouches down to help you up. You let out a painful groan when he lifts you off the ground, your arms flailing around unwittingly until you manage to grasp onto his soaked flannel.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not, Frankie,” you say with a sniffle. “Look, I know that just because I feel a certain way, you don’t have to… Why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry,” Frankie grins. “But you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words! I’d given up all hope you’d ever say them, so,” he shifts to hold you closer to his chest, “I was a bit shocked, is all.”

You blink up at him dumbfounded as lightning flashes behind him, bathing the two of you in a heavenly light for just a moment. Before you realize what you’re doing, you grab his face and crash your lips into his with a passion you never knew you were capable of. He hums against your lips and you smile; this kiss is better than whatever you imagined it could be.

The rain washes over you and makes goosebumps pop up all over your skin, though that could also be from the intensity with which Frankie kisses you. His nose bumps against yours as he deepens it and something starts to blossom up in your belly, a tingling spreading from your sides all the way to your fingertips. After what feels like an eternity, he lets you go, the both of you breathing hard and haggard.

“Holy shit,” Frankie chuckles. “We’re both incredibly stupid, aren’t we?”

“Speak for yourself. I’d do it all again if this is what I get for it.”

Frankie laughs breathlessly and you can’t help but join him. All the anxiety in your body has transformed into exhilaration; you throw your head back and let the raindrops splatter onto your face freely when suddenly another flash of lightning strikes, this time so close you can almost feel it burn your skin. Hey, wait… why doesn’t it stop?

The burning sensation digs deeper into your skin and you snap your head back to look at Frankie, but he’s still laughing. You try to reach out and grab his shoulder, but something’s wrong with your hand. It’s- it’s shredding, your fingers flaking off and burning up in the air as you yell out, horrified at the sight.

Frankie doesn’t notice it when you feel yourself losing weight and floating upward, memories flurrying around you in the ash you’re slowly becoming. He doesn’t notice it when you get sucked higher and higher into the air, screaming his name and pleading him to help you. He doesn’t even notice it when you gasp in one last breath before the stinging headache you’ve developed in the last few seconds overwhelms you completely and you feel your consciousness slipping away.

You jerk awake. Holy stars, that wasn’t a normal nightmare. Where in Newton’s name did that even come from? Rain? It never rains here on the SS Endeavour, you’re in space. All the rain you’ve ever seen has all been via holovids. It did feel oddly realistic, though. Kind of like déjà vu. You stretch out your arms above your head and yawn; maybe you did drink a bit too much last night.

But that kiss… why would you ever kiss officer Morales? Sure, you’re friends. You’re his copilot, for Newton’s sake. But he’s far too mission oriented to even consider romantic relationships. At least, that’s what he says. You’d agree with him, if only he wasn’t obviously lying.

“Stars, would you hurry up already?”

You jump out of your bunk at the sound of Ava’s voice and start changing into your overalls, but it’s no use-- she’s already seen you.

“I don’t want to have to skip breakfast again because you can’t be bothered to get up when the alarm goes off.”

“Oh, stop worrying about your breakfast. I’m sure you still have some extra bread rolls in your secret hiding spot.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that claim,” Ava says, but she’s got a twinkle in her eye. She’s such a bad lair. You step into your shoes, the soft hiss of the self-tying mechanism a nice reassurance of the fact that you’re not dreaming anymore.

“When commander Penn finds out you’ve been using his second wall safe to hide food, you’re getting an instant demotion,” you say. “You do know that, right?”

“It’s so sweet you still think that’s where I hide my stuff. Anyway, I really hope you’ve already picked up your new badge.”

You look up at her from where you’re sitting on the bottom bunk. “…Oh, shit.”

“Really? What kind of gas giant-”

“Don’t start calling me names you’ll regret, Ava,” you grumble as you scramble up and run out of the sleeping pod. This day really is off to an amazing start.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Fish greets you when you climb into the cockpit of your jet with a scowl. “We’ve got zone E today.”

You fasten your seatbelt and heave a sigh. “Yay for us.”

“I thought you liked the asteroid belt.”

“I do, I just…” You chew on your lip as you busy yourself with the control panel. “I had a weird dream, is all. Let’s get going, Fish.”

Because nothing kills a conversation quicker than telling someone about the strange dream you had last night. Now that you think about it, there was something else wrong with it: the stars. They were all in different places, made different constellations…

Usually something like that doesn’t dance around in your head for very long after you wake up, but this somehow keeps popping up whenever you try to navigate manually. It’s like your memories have been copied, but the copy has a whole lot of mistakes. Like there’s been a very, very bad data overhaul.

And then there’s Fish. Despite his casual, relaxed attitude he’s tapping his fingertips against the controls at a rapid pace. It’s a small detail, one you’ve noticed a hundred times before, but it’s taking on a different meaning in your head. You remember him doing it in the dream, too, right after you told him you loved him. Could that maybe-

“Hey!” Fish snaps his fingers in front of you, and everything around you comes back into focus. You’re floating in zone E, engine off, and there’s a bright red jet peeking out from behind a particularly large asteroid.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. “What’re they doing here? This isn’t Galactican territory.”

“Ambush, maybe?”

“I doubt it. If they were planning an ambush, they wouldn’t pick a fucking asteroid belt. Lord knows those new engines of theirs are about as stable as a peach in a blender.”

“Whatever they’re doing here, I don’t trust it,” Fish says with a frown. You sigh.

“Maybe they haven’t seen us yet. D’you think we can we get out of here in time?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t risk leading them right back to the Endeavour.”

“You… you haven’t radioed this in yet, right?”

“No.”

You lean forward to get a better look of your surroundings - seems you’ve been daydreaming for quite some time - only to see a whole lot of asteroids. “Well, it is just one of them, and it doesn’t look like the engine’s on.”

“It’s not broken,” Fish mutters. “At least, I don’t think.”

“Then what do you suggest we do? If we radio this in and someone’s in there, they can easily trace any signals the Endeavour sends out. If we open fire, we’ll have started a war-- and we really don’t need another one of those.”

“It’s taking too long.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not you,” he says absentmindedly, pointing at the blue spacecraft. “That. It’s moving too slow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the brakes are on.”

You grab the lens from the wall beside you and take another look. Fish’s right: if the engine’s off, it should be floating around freely, not hanging still. As you stare at it, though, it does seem to move a little bit. No, it glitches. Your breath hitches in your throat. “Holy fuck.”

“Hm?” Fish hums, turning to you. You push the lens in front of his face, and he looks through it as well. No five seconds later, he’s grabbed the controls and started the engine. “We need to get out of here, right now.”

You grab the radio, but Fish snatches it from your hands and throws it across the cockpit. “We’re not gonna radio this in.”

“Are you insane?”

“What do you think base is going to do when they hear tell of a glitching Galactica spacecraft in the last productive tantalum mining fields?”

“Are you seriously suggesting not letting millions of people prepare for-” You’re cut off by the sudden appearance of a dozen more spacecraft, all of their noses pointed in your direction as you and Fish zoom past way faster than you should. “No, no, no!”

“Sunshine, listen to me,” Fish says as he puts his hand over yours. It grounds you, and you’re grateful for it, even if you don’t understand what he’s doing. “If they know we’ve been patrolling the fields, I’m guessing their main plan is to follow us back to the Endeavour.”

“…Which means they don’t know where it’s anchored,” you add, your anxious expression slowly turning into a smirk.

“Now you’re getting it,” he chuckles. “Let’s go take some advantage of that, hm?”

You nod and grab the controls in front of you to start plotting a route that’s just erratic enough not to draw suspicion to the fact that you’re leading the following spacecraft away from the Endeavour. Fish navigates the jet precisely along your route, narrowly avoiding the asteroids while turning a few degrees to the left every few seconds until you’re coasting out of the mining fields and into empty space. It works; behind you, the stream of spacecraft grows steadily, and with it, so does the size of the individual ships.

“They’re still following us,” Fish says after a while. He sounds a lot less sure of his case than he did ten minutes ago. “Hey, we have enough power left for a jump?”

“Depends on where you want to go,” you say, checking the fuel systems. “I reckon we can jump a total of about a thousand light years.”

“The center of the galaxy’s a little less than eight hundred light years away, correct?”

“Yes, but what…” you trail off as realization hits you like a nuclear bomb. “No, don’t even think about it.”

“They’re not backing off, Sunshine.” Fish turns to look you in the eyes, a small, watery smile on his lips. “I don’t think we have a-”

“Of course we have a choice,” you say with as much severity as you can muster, which, to be frank, isn’t a lot right now. “There’s always a choice.”

“Would you rather wipe out their fleet or our own?”

“I don’t-”

“Do it, Sunshine,” he says sternly. “Make the jump.”

You hesitate, your hand hovering over the lever. “Is… is there really no one on the Endeavour you’d turn back for?”

Fish’s smile grows a bit; you can see it’s genuine. “…I’m here with you, aren’t I? That’s enough for me.”

It catches you off guard, the way he says it. Deep down, you already knew what his answer would be. You dreamt about it, after all. Without another word, you push the lever forward, and the jet glides across space-time until it slows down again, finally coming to a halt near the event horizon of the massive black hole at the center of the galaxy.

“Did it work? Are they coming?” Fish almost jumps out of his chair to look outside, while you decide to look at the little radar on the control board. One by one the tiny, blinking dots come streaming in; your evidence of a job well done.

“Fish?” you ask, your voice wavering. There’s something more important than saving the universe on your mind right now. “Am I really enough for you?”

“Oh, stars,” he says, his own happy mood turning into something else as well. He sinks to his knees in front of your chair and looks up at you. “You are more than enough. You’re all I ever think about, you’re the only one that-”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve already grabbed his face and crashed your lips into his. You’re about to be swallowed up by a black hole, explanations can wait. The kiss grows more and more fervent as Fish’s hands travel up your thighs to hold your waist, a tingling feeling taking up refuge in your belly. After Newton knows how long, the two of you reluctantly break away from each other to breathe.

Stars, Fish, you whisper, but he shakes his head. Call me Frankie, he says. Please, call me Frankie. You tilt your head and press your lips against his scruff. Frankie, you whisper, please don’t stop. And he doesn’t. He closes his eyes and kisses you, over and over and over until your lips are swollen and all thoughts have left your head.

He zips open your overalls slowly, kissing every inch of newly uncovered skin he can find. His kisses burn lower and lower across your skin, past your clavicles, your chest, your belly, and before you, thousands of stars slowly implode. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this before; it’s all so incredibly bittersweet. You get to spend the longest night of your life with the man you love, but it’ll also be the last night you’ll ever experience.

One by one little pinpricks of light fade out in the darkness outside, while others explode in brightly colored clouds-- the same thing happens to your nerves whenever Frankie moves even the slightest bit. It’s a good thing sound doesn’t carry in space, or else you wouldn’t be able to hear the beautiful noises he makes when he closes his eyes in pleasure.

The two of you tumble around in what little space you have, the light of a billion dying stars illuminating every single part of your joint bodies as you splay your hands across his chest. The darkness is taking over more quickly now, enveloping your jet into nothingness, drawing you into the vast emptiness of its core.

We must have done something right, Frankie whispers as you lay, sweaty and tired, awaiting your bittersweet ending, to deserve such an incredible encore.

You close your eyes and curl up into his chest as you whisper back, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

You open your eyes again and smile when you look at Mr. Morales. He’s so gentle like this, with his fingers flying across the piano, not at all the stoic soldier he usually is. It’s nice, even if the others think it’s boring.

He finishes the piece with a shuddering creshendo, and you bite back a smile when he looks at you with those gorgeos eyes of his.

“Why’d you stop singing, my lady?”

“I apologize, sir,” you say as you flip over the music sheet on the little ledge of the piano. “But I simply can’t help it; you play so wonderfully, and I never truly learnt to sing very well. It seems a shame to pollute such beautiful tones with my own.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Morales says with a kind smile. “Your voice only ever makes me want to play better.”

Your cheeks heat up at that, but the moment is quickly disrupted.

“Encore, encore!” a voice behind you yells; it’s Mr. Garcia, who’s been sitting in his usual post on the third floor. “We’re gonna need more than just the one piece if we’re to have any luck in catching more than a score of those bastards tonight.”

“Why don’t you come down and try singing for a bit, it might help,” Mr. Morales chuckles beside you. When he notices you staring at him, he leans in a little closer and adds, “Are you all right, miss? You seem distracted.”

“I’m perfectly good, sir.” You swallow hard and let out a weary breath. “Your music always seems to carry me away further than I expect.”

And for a moment there, you think to yourself, I thought I saw the stars up close.

A/N: I really threw all my knowledge of space and science out the window for this one and replaced it with nonsense and movie-science. Also, I’ve watched Interstellar, Free Guy, and Groundhog Day way too much for my own good.

The title of this chapter comes from an instrumental by the Grandbrothers which I listened to while writing, so if you want the full experience you can look that up.

If I'm missing any content warnings, do let me know! I'd hate to hurt someone with my writing, but I don't really know how to work those out yet.

PS: If you've got a favorite AU and/or dynamic, I'd love to hear about it! This series is going to explore a bunch of different ones, but I think my own imagination will only get me so far :)

As always, feedback is appreciated and my inbox is open! Have a great day!

[isauntervaguelydownwards]

yuletide cheer (child, do not fear)

Bilbo had soon cobbled together something that might be passable as Yule traditions. Frodo, the dear lad only a few months out from losing his parents, hadn’t offered many opinions either way, but Bilbo felt that Yule, with its warmth and its comfort, could only be an improvement over the daze Frodo moved around in.

or: Bilbo thinks this whole Yule thing is a bit overrated, but does it for Frodo anyway. Frodo is baffled at most everything his uncle does. Around it all, traditions take root.

cw: brief mention of minor character death, loss of parent(s).

written for karameiwaku in the Hobbit and LOTR 2021 holiday fix exchange.

Bilbo was an old hobbit by the time Frodo entered his life as more than just a distant cousin; he was already heading for triple digits in age, but it was only his still-springy curls long since turned white that showed it. Physically, he looked much the same as when he had, half a life ago, seemingly returned from the dead.

Mentally, he felt stretched thin, see-through like thin paper, hobbits never being well suited to living for so long, and most certainly not equipped to handle losing all close kin twice in their life.

Then there was Frodo.

Bilbo was old and set in his ways, and hadn’t properly celebrated Yule since his parents passed, but if there was one thing all hobbits agreed on – from the old and crotchety to the young and eternally cheerful – it was that Yule was to be celebrated for the faunt’s sake.

It had taken some ransacking, both of memory and old journals, but Bilbo had soon cobbled together something that might be passable as Yule traditions. Frodo, the dear lad only a few months out from losing his parents, hadn’t offered many opinions either way, but Bilbo felt that Yule, with its warmth and its comfort, could only be an improvement over the daze Frodo moved around in.

On the first day of Yule, my uncle gave to me… a Yule log.

“This is very important, Frodo m’boy, without a Yule log the right feeling simply will not come.”

“Uncle…”

“None of that now, help me pick one out! We’ll need a decently thick one, it’s only the two of us so no need to get the biggest, hmm…”

Frodo trailed after his uncle, the grief of losing his parents still leaving him in a daily daze, but something had worn through the constant fog. Like the irritant of a dripping faucet, Bilbo’s nattering had been enough to get Frodo out of the smial for the first time since he’d arrived. At Brandy Hall, he hadn’t had so much as a room to call his own, which had led to him being outdoors more often than not. Bag End was very much the opposite, Bilbo letting him have full run of the entire smial, requesting only that his study and his bedroom be off-limits – just until we get properly reacquainted, you understand – and all of a sudden Frodo didn’t need to be outside to flee his thoughts.

That the fog was maybe starting to lift didn’t in any way mean he felt up to celebrating Yule, but when he attempted to tell his uncle that, Bilbo merely scoffed and claimed Yule celebrations never made things worse. I won’t go as far as say it’ll be better, my boy, but it won’t be worse.

On the second day of Yule, my uncle gave to me… two Yule goats.

When Frodo had been pretty much forced into picking out a log (a thick piece of weathered oak, which for some reason made his uncle tear up) and then spicing it, followed by lighting it on fire, he had thought he’d be allowed to spend the day after in his desired solitude. The Yule traditions Bilbo was attempting to set up – Frodo had a feeling his uncle had read several books on the subject “how to raise fauntlings” and forgotten that Frodo was a tween – were nothing like the ones he’d had with his parents, and he was thankful for it. It did take his mind off of them, at least for a short while, and didn’t bring any bittersweet ones up either.

Of course, Frodo still wanted a while to process whatever traditions Bilbo was trying to set up, even if it so far had been one – the Yule log – it was more new information than Frodo had had to parse for months.

Bilbo did not plan on letting Frodo sit idle, even for a day, however.

“Frodo, my boy! Time to get that coat on, we have work to do!” Bilbo called with as much cheer as his voice could manage to carry; it was faux happiness, a lot of it, but cheer was part of the festivities and thus, cheery he would be. Frodo, paler than any hobbit should ever be, did not look like he’d consider being cheery in any capacity – Bilbo decided to count his losses when Frodo at least didn’t put up a fight about going outside for the second day in a row.

The incredulity in his tone when he saw the straw bale was well worth the effort and money Bilbo had spent in getting hold of one with such short notice.

“Uncle, what – straw?”

“Yes, yes indeed! We’re making straw goats, it’s tradition, we’re making one each and they’ll have pride of place right outside the door.”

“We – we don’t have traditions, Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo hesitated for a long moment, unsure if he should continue – unsure if his voice would carry, considering he was speaking more then than he had for weeks on end previously. “I’ve never made one before.”

Bilbo wasn’t certain, after, what made him do it, but for some reason he reached out to smooth Frodo’s unruly curls out of his face. He was taciturn at best, but this young hobbit was clearly having an influence on him.

“Don’t you worry about that now, dear boy, I’ll teach you.”

On the third day of Yule, my uncle gave to me… three types of herring.

“I really don’t like fish, Uncle.”

“I can’t say I’m fond of it either, ever since the dwarrow – that’s the plural of ‘dwarf’, Frodo m’boy, don’t you forget that – escaped the dungeons in barrels.”

“What – barrel – dwarves – Uncle, what are you on about?”

“That we need to pickle this herring today, if we want any in time for Yule, of course!”

“The dwarvesin the barrels, Uncle Bilbo.”

“That’s the end of a story I shan’t tell in one day, I think – but I can start it.”

“Please Uncle, you – you’re the best at telling stories, better than Gandalf even.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, and get to rinsing that herring if you want to hear a story. Mind you, this was half a lifetime ago, by now, so things might be a bit – muddled. Anyway – in a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.”

It was an easy camaraderie, one like nothing Frodo had ever felt before, and Bilbo hadn’t experienced the like since before Erebor was reclaimed. That still shook Bilbo to his core sometimes, that an event he had had something of a part in was a major enough event that there were the times before and the times after.

On the fourth day of Yule, my uncle gave to me… four boxwood wreaths.

Frodo looked in dismay at his boxwood wreath, and then looked at his uncle’s three. Whereas Bilbo’s three wreaths were nigh-on identical, the only noticeable difference being the slight variations in colour between the various boxwood twigs he was using, Frodo’s was not a circular wreath. He couldn’t call it an oval or lopsided wreath, either, simply because it wasn’t a wreath. Something had gone terribly wrong in his tying, and the almost-complete wreath had just unfolded into a long, shoddily boxwood-wrapped wire.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for wreaths, Uncle…”

On the fifth day of Yule, my uncle gave to me… five fir trees.

“Now, there are five here, but we can only have one in the drawing-room.” Bilbo walked around the five neatly placed firs, the look and air of seriousness clinging to him in a way that implied it was something far more important than just Yule tree picking they were doing.

“The second from the right has one, two, three – I think it has 6 different top branches, Uncle. Where would we place the sunflower?”

“Hm, you’re right, you’re right. Didn’t pick up on that.” Bilbo hemmed and hawed a while longer before turning back to Frodo. “That one, furthest to the left, what do you think of it?”

Frodo had to admit, he hadn’t been looking that closely on the other firs, the six equal top branches of the first discarded fir having had him spellbound. Fir trees shouldn’t grow like that. When he got a good look at the tree Bilbo was pointing at, however, he couldn’t but be grateful.

If Frodo had already seen the fir, he didn’t think he’d be able to convey his absolute incredulity at his uncle’s pick. At this point, Frodo’s uncontrollable laughter quite helped drive the point home.

“It’s very ugly, Uncle, and all branches except five are placed on the bottom quarter of the tree. The five remaining branches, they’re very evenly spaced – only on the left side of the trunk, however.”

“I know, it looks just like Bombur. It’s perfect! We’ll have this one.”

On the sixth day of Yule, my uncle gave to me… six glass ornaments.

“Traditionally, we’re supposed to wait until tomorrow to open gifts, but I think you should open this first,” Bilbo said, handing Frodo a beautifully wrapped present.

“We haven’t even started decorating the tree yet,” Frodo grumbled good-naturedly, not putting up much more than a token protest. Seeing how antsy Bilbo was, almost lunging forward to attempt to catch the then-unwrapped box when Frodo almost dropped it, he decided he’d open it placed on the table.

Once he got the lid off of the box, he was glad for it.

The six baubles in the box was of amazing quality, of that Frodo had no doubt. It wasn’t what made his breath catch, however. No, inside the baubles were small, just as exquisite paintings, depicting his parents, both alone and together.

“I know it’s not much, compared to what you’ve lost, m’boy, but this way – this way they can join our celebration, at least a little.”

Frodo very carefully placed the baubles down on the table again before throwing himself at his uncle, arms wrapping around his neck and burying his face in Bilbo’s shoulder. They stood there for a long while, Bilbo just holding and reassuring Frodo. The tween hadn’t had a proper breakdown in a long while, maybe not since his parents died, and that, if nothing else, was something everyone left behind needs sometimes.

If, later that night, Frodo sat by a newly trimmed Yule tree, talking to the ornaments bearing his parent’s likenesses, well – that’s neither here nor there.

On the seventh day of Yule, my uncle gave to me… a family.

“Now, I know this might be coming as a very big surprise, but I don’t want to - worry you, in any way, so I thought it better be sooner rather than later.” Frodo hadn’t been worried about the contents in the small, hastily wrapped package until his uncle said he shouldn’t be, but all of a sudden he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he untied the ribbon.

His internal, eternal pessimist insisted that it was Bilbo returning his custody to the Brandybucks, leaving Frodo orphaned twice over. At some point during the ridiculous week leading up to Yule, Frodo had suddenly found himself considering Bilbo family.

Hands still shaking, he had managed to get the package open and unfurled the papers within. His head was swimming with relief and confusion, a bone-deep weariness suddenly coming over him and making it difficult to process what the papers said.

“Uncle – what? Custody papers, I thought you had custody of me?”

“It’s not custody papers, Frodo m’boy,” Bilbo replied, coming over to kneel next to the armchair Frodo had at some point claimed as his. Bilbo reached out, wanting to comfort him, but wasn’t certain if he’d be welcome. “It’s adoption papers. You’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to a son, and while I’m never replacing Drogo or Primula, let me at least be your family.”

If Bilbo hadn’t been as close to Frodo as he was, the crackling of the fireplace would have drowned out his reply.

“Please, Uncle.”