#widest smile in the universe

[carsaadi]

IVE ACCIDENTALLY MADE AN ENEMY HELP

[a-neverending-dream]

I FOUND THIS AGAIN!!! I spent so long looking for this and had given up and have just stumbled on to this in Warriors tag!!! I absolutely love this fic and your writing and I'm so happy you posted this!!!

A primary rule of stab wounds: don't take out the blade. Or arrowhead, if applicable. Bleeding out was the main way Warriors had seen soldiers die if they survived the initial attack. Infection was a close second. Neither was a good way for a soldier to die.

Warriors scowled at the arrow sticking out of his thigh. He felt the stone metal head shift in the muscle every time he moved his leg.

He didn't know where the others were. The portal had dropped them off somewhere. Warriors guessed it was somewhere in Wild's era based on the wide open fields and the mountains in the distance. He didn't know where Wild or the others were. They entered the portal together and when Warriors stepped out, his only company were bokoblins on horseback.

The bokoblins were now dead, and a placid mare now stood in front of Warriors. A quick and easy way to search for his companions.

But first, Warriors had to deal with the arrow.

It had gone deep. The bokoblin had shot him at short range. With their flimsy bows, it wouldn't have meant much if the bokoblin was further away, but it had shot him as it rode past. Warriors had allowed himself to be distracted by another bokoblin. Amateur mistake.

Now he had an arrow in his thigh, shredding the muscle with each movement. Warriors couldn't move with it there. It needed to come out.

Warriors tried not to let the sheer emptiness of the field bother him as he pulled medical supplies out of his bag. This was going to be bad. Blood already seeped out from around the arrow, and dizziness threatened. Riding on the horse was only going to make things worse.

How had the others done this alone? How had the others cared for their wound and safety without soldiers and companions at their back?

The arrow needed to come out, and Warriors was alone.

He breathed in deeply and grabbed the shaft. His hand was red and sticky with blood. Warriors wouldn't bleed out, but he knew he was in for a miserable day.

"Here we go," Warriors whispered. He tightened his grip and tried not to miss Time's soothing presence and Twilight's comforting words and Hyrule's healing hands. He tried not to feel desperately alone.

"Dammit," he breathed. He bit his lip and yanked.

Blood began to pour.

[itneverendshere]

rafe finding out you’re back to not taking care of yourself, especially when he’s coming back from rehab. you’re going back to full swing less than bare minimum to take care of yourself

thank you for the request!!🩷 hope you enjoy!!

the way you hold me is actually what's holy - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Rafe had this whole plan in his head.

He was finally back in town after spending the better part of six months at that damn rehab center. Finally clean, head clear, body feeling... normal, or at least as normal as it got after kicking all the shit he put himself through. The whole time he was there, he thought about you. How you visited him every week no matter how exhausted you were from your shifts now that you’d been promoted. How you took extra days off work for him, even when you couldn’t afford to miss them. How you always brought him a home-cooked meal because you knew he hated everything they gave him at that place.

And he promised himself that when he came back, things were gonna change. He was gonna change—for you.

It was all worked out. He’d show up at your sister’s place a day before he was supposed to leave, surprise you, maybe bring some flowers. Then he’d ask you to move in with him. He thought about it day and night. He was tired of that house. Of having his dad constantly hovering over his shoulder, even when he was miles away. He was gonna get a new place, not one of those temporary rentals where he barely unpacked his bags. A real place, a clean slate.

A new start. For the both of you.

But when Monica opened the door, his plans went out the window.

“Rafe?” Her eyes widened for a second before her face broke into the widest smile he’d seen in months. And before he could even get a word out, she threw her arms around him, hugging the living hell out of him like it had been years instead of just months. "Oh my God, you’re back! You look... you look amazing."

The way Monica squeezed him, how genuinely happy she was to see him—it hit him harder than he expected. Rehab was tough. Really tough. And he didn’t expect people to be waiting for him on the other side, not like this.

"I’m back," he muttered, hugging her tightly as he let himself breathe for the first time since stepping out of that damn place. Monica had been there for him too, just like you had. She’d kept you company sometimes when you went on those long drives to visit him. He didn’t deserve people like you two in his life, but he wasn’t going to take it for granted.

Monica pulled back but kept her hands on his shoulders, her eyes sparkling with this genuine pride. "You look healthy. I mean, really healthy. It’s good to see you like this."

Rafe smiled, a little bashful. "Yeah. Feels good to be back. I’ve been, you know, working on shit."

She smiled back, her eyes glinting with emotion. "I’m so proud of you, Rafe."

His throat tightened at that. He wasn’t used to hearing those words, you were the only one constantly reminding him of it. Everyone else said it with some hidden judgment or expectation behind them, like they were waiting for him to screw up again. But Monica meant it. She always did. She was your sister, after all.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, feeling more awkward than he should’ve, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m trying, you know?”

She squeezed his shoulder before stepping back, "You here to see her?"

"Yeah. I, uh... wanted to surprise her.”

The smile on Monica’s face dropped just a little, and Rafe’s stomach sank instantly. He knew that look. It was the same one you got when you didn’t want to tell him something that might hurt him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, even though he already had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

Monica sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before she leaned back against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. "She’s at work right now."

“At this hour? I thought she—”

“She’s been working extra shifts. A lot of them.”

Rafe frowned. You already worked so much as it was. Extra shifts? Why? He thought things had been better for you since he left, that you had more time to focus on yourself, maybe even catch up on the sleep you’d missed while dealing with his mess. “Why? She didn’t tell me she was working more.”

Monica sighed again—something that made Rafe know he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear, “She didn’t want you to worry. She didn’t want anyone to worry, actually.”

“Monica, what’s going on?” The anxiety clawed at his chest. He hated not knowing. Hated being in the dark, especially when it came to you.

Her eyes softened, and she took a step closer, like she could feel the panic building inside him. “Listen... she’s not taking care of herself. She’s been putting everyone first—Milo, her job, you—but she’s not eating enough, she’s not sleeping enough. She’s been burning herself out.”

Rafe’s heart sank. You hadn’t said a word about it to him. Not during any of his calls or visits. You were always smiling, always saying things were fine. But they weren’t.

He should’ve known. Should’ve seen the signs.

“She didn’t tell me.”

“She didn’t tell anyone. That’s the thing. You know she doesn’t ask for help. She just... takes it all on, even when it’s too much. And with you gone... I think she felt like she had to be strong for you, like she couldn’t let herself fall apart because you were going through so much.”

You had been falling apart, and he didn’t even see it. He’d been so focused on getting himself together that he didn’t notice you slipping. And now he didn’t know how to fix it.

“I should’ve done something.”

“No.” Her voice was firm, and she reached out to touch his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “This isn’t on you. You were getting better, doing what you had to do. She loves you, okay? She wasn’t going to let you worry about her while you were in rehab. She’s always been like this. Always putting herself last. It’s not about you. It’s about her not knowing how to let people take care of her.”

Rafe’s chest tightened, his mind flashing through all the times you’d pushed aside your own needs in the past, all the times you’d taken care of him instead of yourself. He thought that was never going to happen again. He’d been so blind to it, thinking you were the strong one. But you were just as fragile as he was, maybe more, because you didn’t let anyone see it.

"She’s working until midnight tonight. You should go talk to her. But... don’t be mad, okay? She’s doing the best she can."

Rafe nodded, his throat tight. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t angry at you. He was angry at himself for not seeing it sooner. For letting you drown under the weight of everything while he was too busy figuring out his own shit. “I’ll go see her.”

Your sister gave him a small smile, a little sad but understanding. ��She needs you. Just... be there for her, okay? And don’t guilt-trip her about this. She already feels like she’s failing everyone.”

“I won’t,” he promised, even though the guilt was eating him alive inside. He had to be strong for you now, the way you’d been strong for him all this time. He just hoped it wasn’t too late to fix this.

With that, he left, heading to his truck, his mind spinning the whole way to The Country Club. He didn’t know how he was going to make this right, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let you keep doing this. He wasn’t going to let you fall apart, not when he was here now, ready to carry some of the weight for you.

The country club was quieter than usual when he pulled into the parking lot, but the bar inside was still buzzing with its usual evening crowd. He walked in, scanning the room, his eyes instantly finding you behind the bar.

You were moving like a pro, handing off drinks, shaking up cocktails, giving out that charming smile you always had for the customers. But now that he knew what was going on, it was easy to see how tired you looked. The dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped just a little between orders. You were running on empty, and it broke his heart.

Before he could even think of what he was going to say to you, your eyes found his across the room. For a second, everything seemed to stop. Your eyes widened in surprise, and your breath hitched, like you couldn’t believe he was actually there. He felt his heart skip a beat, and then—

“Rafe?” you breathed out, your voice soft and disbelieving. Without another thought, you bolted from behind the bar, not even bothering to tell anyone to cover your shift.

He barely had time to react before you practically jumped into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms circled his neck. You clung to him like a koala bear, and Rafe caught you, holding you tight against him, his heart racing as he buried his face in your neck.

“Holy shit, you’re really here,” you mumbled into his neck, your voice strained with emotion. You clutched him tighter, like if you let go, he’d disappear. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” He explained, his voice muffled against your skin, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, even with all the heavy stuff on his mind. Just having you in his arms again felt like a weight lifting off his chest.

You leaned back just enough to look at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears as you cupped his face in your hands. “God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too baby.” He pressed his forehead to yours, his hands gripping your waist. “I’m back, okay? I’m here.”

A small laugh bubbled out of you, even though there were tears running down your cheeks now. “I can’t believe I’m crying at work. I never cry at work.”

Rafe grinned, brushing your tears away with his thumb. “I’ll let it slide this time.”

You laughed again, but then you seemed to remember where you were. You glanced over your shoulder at the bar, where a few customers were still waiting for their drinks. “Shit, I— I’m working."

He set you down gently, his hands still resting on your waist as you adjusted your shirt and ran a hand through your hair, clearly flustered but trying to get back into work mode. “I should get back to it.”

“Take a break,” He pleaded, his hand moving to grab yours. “Please.”

You blinked up at him, the tiredness you’d been hiding for months finally showing through. For once, you didn’t argue. You just nodded, squeezing his hand before leading him to quieter corner of the bar where you could talk without interruption. Once you sat down across from him, you took a deep breath, like you already knew something was coming.

“What did Monica say?”

Rafe paused, his fingers absentmindedly drumming on the table as he tried to figure out how to start. “She told me you’ve been overworking yourself. Taking extra shifts, not sleeping, not eating enough.”

You sighed heavily, leaning back in your seat and rubbing a hand over your face. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Rafe asked. He wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, but he needed to understand. “You’ve been doing all this, and you didn’t say a word to me.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers twisting together in your lap. “You were in rehab, baby. You were going through so much, and I didn’t want to add to your stress. I didn’t want you to feel guilty about me.”

“You don’t have to carry everything on your own,” Rafe said softly, his chest tightening. “I know I was a mess before, but I’m better now. I want to be there for you the way you were there for me. The way we used to be before.”

You shook your head, “I just... I didn’t know how to stop. You needed me, Monica needed me... work needed me. And I thought, if I just kept going, I could handle it.”

He reached across the table, grabbing your hands and holding them tight. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m here now, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time you didn’t try to hide them. You let them fall, your grip tightening on his hands like you were afraid to let go. “I don’t know how to let go again.”

“Let me help,” Rafe whispered, leaning closer. “You’ve always been there for me, and now it’s my turn to take care of you. You don’t have to keep doing this by yourself.”

You nodded slowly, wiping at your tears with a shaky hand. “I just... I didn’t want to be a burden.”

The conversation gave him a sense of Deja Vu. You two had been here before.

“You’re not a burden,” Rafe said firmly, “You’ve never been a burden. You’re everything to me. And I don’t want you burning yourself out like this. Not for me, not for anyone.”

You took a deep, shaky breath, your eyes meeting his again. “I just missed you so much. And I didn’t know how to handle everything without you.”

Rafe’s heart clenched at the honesty in your voice, and he reached out, pulling you into his arms again. “I’m here now. We’ll figure this out together, okay? You don’t have to keep doing this alone.”

You clung to him, your face buried in his chest as you finally let yourself relax in his arms. And he held you determined to make things right. He was going to be there for you, the way you had always been there for him.

It felt so good to be in his arms, to finally let yourself feel vulnerable after holding everything together for so long. You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. You could see how much he cared, and it made you feel safe, but also exposed, it’s like you’d momentarily forgotten how good it felt to be so close to him.

As if reading your mind, he brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb, “I don’t want to see you like this anymore,” he said quietly. “You deserve more.” You opened your mouth to retort, but the words stuck in your throat as he continued, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the future while I was gone, and I know things have been tough for both of us, but I want to make them better. I want to be better. I want you to be better.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your heart pounding as you searched his eyes for answers.

He took a deep breath, his expression serious but tender. “I want you to move in with me.”

All you could do was blink in surprise.

“Rafe...” Move in? After everything? After months of barely surviving and keeping your head above water, now he was asking you to dive into something that felt... big. Scary even. You blinked again, and the look on his face was so serious, like he’d thought about this a hundred times over. Maybe he had. But you hadn’t. You’d been too wrapped up in keeping things from crashing to even imagine a future like that, let alone moving in with him. “Are you serious?” 

Rafe’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, “Yeah. I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t want to be apart anymore. I don’t want you running yourself into the ground, and I sure as hell don’t want you dealing with everything alone. I’m here now. I want us to have a fresh start, together.”

Your heart clenched. This was the Rafe you’d always believed in, the one you saw past all the shit he went through. And it was everything you wanted—more than you’d let yourself hope for. But then the doubt crept in. What if it was too much, too soon? What if things went wrong?

You dropped your gaze, focusing on the way your fingers tangled together, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t even know if I’m ready. I mean, everything’s been so... I don’t know, chaotic lately. I can barely keep my own life together.”

He let out a soft sigh, leaning closer. “I get that. I do. But that’s why I’m asking. We don’t have to do it all at once. We can take it slow. I just... I don’t want you to feel like you’re in this alone anymore. I need you with me, and I think you need me too.”

You did need him.

You’d missed him so much it ached, but you were terrified of leaning on him again, of letting yourself fall into something that might not last. But then again, wasn’t that what love was about? Taking chances, even when everything felt uncertain?

You swallowed hard, lifting your eyes to meet his. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But we take it slow, alright? I don’t want to mess this up.”

Rafe smiled, that slow, crooked grin that always made you fall deeper in love. “Slow is good. As long as we’re doing it together.” He tilted his head, watching you closely. He always seemed to know when you were lost in thought. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” His voice was soft, patient, like he wasn’t in a rush for an answer.

You gave a half-smile, shaking your head slightly. “I just... it’s a lot, you know? If I start freaking out, you have to promise not to take it personally.”

He chuckled, the sound so familiar it almost made you cry all over again, “Deal. And if I start freaking out, you’ve gotta do the same.”

You smiled, finally feeling the tightness in your chest ease. Maybe this could work. Maybe the two of you could find your way back to each other. You believed him wholeheartedly. It wasn’t just the words; it was the way he looked at you, like he wasn’t just making promises he couldn’t keep anymore. He was standing in front of you, offering something real, something he was willing to put in the work for.

Rafe’s gaze softened, his lips quirking into a small smile as he cupped your cheek. "I know we say this all the time, but I love you," he said, like it was second nature, like he was reminding you of something you both already knew, something solid and familiar. There wasn’t any grand declaration because it didn’t need to be—it was the quiet kind of love that had been there all along.

You leaned into his touch. “I love you too.” The words came so easily, as natural as breathing, because they were always there, hanging between the two of you, even on the worst days.

His thumb stroked your skin his eyes never leaving yours. "We’ll figure it out," he whispered like he wasn’t just saying it for you, but for himself too. "We always do."

You nodded, the corners of your mouth lifting in a small, tired smile. “Yeah, we do.”

[citrinae]

holding hands with them.

contents; cloying, tooth-rotting fluff. goes well with coffee to cleanse the palate. there might be one itty-bitty mention of marineford. 🎀 

ft. east blue 5

masterlist

⋆ ˚｡༄ luffy 

the boldest one out there. if he feels like taking you by the hand, he’ll go ahead and do it, no matter the time or place. like everything about him, luffy won’t be any subtle when holding your hand either, swinging it with the widest smile, whistling a merry tune as you head your way. his hands may feel a little sticky from whatever he’s eaten at the time, but there’s also a comforting warmth to them sending butterflies to your stomach. when he holds your hand, he does it tightly, assertively, like he has never ever doubted his decision to let you enter his life.  

sometimes the thought of having a special someone to explore new places with has him so excited that he just grabs you by the wrist, or cups his hand around yours. he will lightly squeeze your palm with his thumb each time he wants to grab your attention to something he knows will make you smile, laugh, or both. at least once he tried to see how far his hand could bend from yours (pretty far, it’s all rubber after all). 

in a dangerous situation, a fight especially, there will be times when he will unconsciously search for your hand, an unsaid promise that he won’t lose. he will also do it as a way to assure himself that you’re still there, and you’re safe, a habit that might have something to do with marineford but he hadn’t realised he picked up until meeting you. he can’t afford to lose you, and feeling your hand into his is the one certainty that he's grown stronger and capable of protecting his dearest ones.

⋆ ˚｡༄ zoro

even before it became clear to you that what you’re having breaks the norms of a friendship, it had been a habit to sunbathe together on the ship's deck. his lids would slowly fall close, tanned skin sliced in the light, hair ruffled by the breeze, and you would watch him fade into a distant universe as sleep took you over. 

you can’t tell if the first time it happened was more than the mere remembrance of a dream, but what’s certain is that soon enough you started to fall asleep to the peaceful sensation of his fingertips reaching yours, closer and closer each time, until one day you woke up to find your hand completely clasped in his. your mouth hitched into a small smile, wondering if this had ever happened before, or it was simply a moment you would forget before happening a second time. even now, you still find yourselves interlocking fingers in your sleep. he also likes to drape an arm over your shoulder, taking hold of your hand as he does, especially before falling asleep together. 

his hands are roughed up and battered from swordfighting; however they feel like velvet as they touch you, at first watchfully and only for a few fleeting seconds, and then with more certainty. he may still show some signs of hesitation when it comes to holding hands in plain sight, but he will gladly accept it if you’re the initiator. your hands will often find each other under tables, on his lap, around a bottle of booze if the two of you are out drinking. 

⋆ ˚｡༄ nami

from time to time she may come up with different excuses for holding your hand. at first, it was when she offered to help you carry your shopping bag, “i left my perfume in there, i can’t afford to lose it because you were careless with the loot.” your fingers touched, and she left them there for a second, the realisation that she could be affectionate with you without feeling vulnerable rushing to her head like a shot of rum.

soon after you would start to notice her fingertips linger on several occasions. passing the sugar, applying sunscreen, asking you to lay out some maps for her. her skin is smooth and laced with the smell of tangerines and coconut milk. extremely well-kept. if she knows you’re reaching a more perilous portion of the sea (which luffy will insist on crossing), nami will take you by the hand, and you will estimate how scared she is by the tightness of her grip. 

definitely a fan of the one-finger hold. whenever the crew is free to take a breather and wander about a new island, nami will cheerfully jump out of the ship and offer you her arm, the space between you remaining roped along the way by nothing more but your tangled pinkies. at the dinner table, your fingers will often stay linked in the same way, a casual, subtle gesture, but a reminder that you will always have each other’s backs. 

⋆ ˚｡༄ usopp

another one to hold your hand if the seas you’re going across are overfilled with monsters, but unlike nami, god usopp will do it to show off his bravery. he’s there to protect you, he goes on and on, and usually this will be accompanied by a story of his earliest travels on the sea. and yet, one questionable sound is all it takes for him to leap into your arms, later excused as his way to tell you that there once was this gruesome pirate lord who almost fell overboard in fear, but luckily he was there to catch them. captain usopp is nothing but a merciful soul.

extremely open and affectionate with his partner. when it comes to holding your hand, he won’t hesitate to do it in front of everyone so they all see he could pull someone as awesome as you. when he’s testing a new weapon, he loves it when you come from behind and place your hands on top of his, guiding each other towards your target. i feel that, with usopp, there will be plenty of moments where your hands will just top each other, during dinner or a party or simply while assisting him in the workshop. 

speaking of which. he works with his hands a lot, so they may catch a certain metallic scent, scarce traces of gunpowder under his nails and into his skin. but each time you end up cuddling under the stars and his hands tangle with yours, you begin to feel even more comforted since getting to notice these little things about him means you couldn’t be any closer. 

⋆ ˚｡༄ sanji

if it isn’t the ultimate sucker for hand-holding. believe it or not, to him this pretty much seals the status of your relationship, so at the very beginning when things were rather uncertain between you, his worst nightmare would have been to initiate such an intimate gesture and be rejected. that was also around the time you started to do grocery shopping together, two forms pushing past the lively crowds, taking the moment to enjoy each other’s company somewhere away from the crew. 

sanji jolted when he felt the back of your hands brushing against each other, and then your forefinger coiling around his own, an open invite that paused the world for him for a couple of seconds. loosening the knot of his tie, he took your hand in his, fingers eagerly interlacing into a most soothing grip. ever since your relationship became established, you’ve come to notice that he often attempts to hold your hand, and each time he finds it, it’s a promise that you will always have his full and irrevocable attention. 

his hands carry the smell of the cigarettes he smokes, combined with that of some herbs he’s used in the kitchen, and seafood at worst times. they are smooth like silk when wrapped around yours, and emanate warmth each time he gently starts to stroke the skin with his thumb. he’d hold hands with you pretty much anywhere, but the times he feels the most relaxed are at the railing of the ship, during a cigarette break, or while walking behind the rest, leaving the impression of a freshly married couple on their honeymoon. 

[msafterhours]

No Promises

Reader POV x Joo Kyulkyung (Zhou Jieqiong)

~2.7k words

“We were meant to be together sounded so much sweeter when it felt like we had forever.”

There's something beautiful about intentionally making the wrong decision. Like, sure, it sounds crazy to step into the line of fire and say yeah, come on universe; take your best shot, but it’s also kinda fun, no? Granted, soaring down the streets of Seoul with the wind whipping against your jacket and the rain pouring past your helmet is maybe a bit much, but you left any concerns you might have had in the dust long before the sun set. Besides, this is far from the first time you’ve acted with the type of reckless abandon reserved for those who have yet to live long enough to have something to lose.

That calculus changes when you re-enter Seoul: speed limits shift from suggestions to mandates. After a third red in a row rips an extended groan from your chest, you spend the moment inspecting the streets you’ve traversed a thousand times. You’re met by the familiar sight of Gangnam-gu’s glimmering lights, gleaming skyscrapers, and garish nightclubs each casting their own unique reflection onto the shimmering street below. On most nights, you’re able to let the mess of colors fade into the background, but tonight, it feels uncharacteristically gray. Even then, it’s all so loud, from the rainfall on the swarms of umbrellas to the downcast expressions of the faceless crowd—hell, even the red light you’ve been keeping an eye on seems washed out.

Right as you’re wondering if you’ve been transported back in time and cast in a 1940s sitcom, a sudden flash of color at the far edge of vision completely derails your train of thought. You turn and are met by a sight pulled straight from a modern drama: a student close to your own age wearing a soaked banana yellow top and skirt clinging to her legs as she hides under her highlighter pink backpack like it’s some shoddy umbrella. It’s … not a pretty sight.

Or at least it wouldn't be, if not for the rest of her. Her long, dark hair cascades down past her shoulders and clings to her face, obscuring your view of her finer features, yet every aspect of her from her posture to the placement of her steps projects a practiced poise that monopolizes your attention. Everyone else fades from your vision as the light turns green and she turns the crosswalk into her personal runway … though the effect is kinda ruined by the urgency with which she scurries through the rain.

A feeling from deep within urges you to act—that and the person behind you honking their horn since you’ve spent the four seconds since the light turned green frozen in place. You release the brake, accelerate forward, and veer your motorcycle to the side where you know she's heading. With a quick step onto the soaked pavement and a tug on the strap of your helmet, you greet the rain with the widest of smiles, then feel it shift into a smirk as you call out, “Ouch, aren’t you a sad sight to behold. Need some help with that?”

She turns and stares, mouth agape, as she processes the sight of you. Your first glimpse of her leaves you stuck mirroring her expression, mouth agape in disbelief because she's gorgeous, with a sharp jawline that contrasts perfectly against her soft skin. It’s a face sculpted to show on billboards … and one whose disbelief shifts into a smirk as she remains unaffected by your reaction. Your eyes travel upwards past those invitingly soft lips, along the bridge of her nose, all the way up and meeting her own, where you’re all too tempted to lose yourself in them. Eventually, she breaks the silence and asks, “What. The. Fuck. Are you doing? Are you trying to die?”

“Of course not, don’t you listen? I already told you, I’m trying to help,” you say back, smile widening as her skepticism refuses to fade whatsoever. “I just figured that while we’re both out in the rain, only one of us wants to be, yeah? I'd be doing something wrong if I didn't at least offer to get you there faster, so I ask again: do you want my help or not?”

As you offer her your helmet, you see the distrust finally start thawing, just enough for her to crack a smile of her own. “This is insane—you’re insane. But you also seem fun, so why not?”

You hand her the helmet and exchange names, and as the girl you'll come to know as Kyulkyung repeats yours back to you, you watch as her eyebrows relax and the distrust starts leaving her eyes. As you go through a brief crash course—how to wear a helmet, where to sit, etc.—her posture slips too, hints of comfort and fatigue settling in as her shoulders slump. Yet through it all, her eyes remain locked on yours, causing an unexpected pang in your chest as you turn to climb onto the bike. It fades slightly when you turn back to her, offer your hand, and ask, “Okay, you ready?”

Even as Kyulkyung shivers and shakes like a leaf in the wind, the fire in her eyes burns bright as she dismisses your hand and climbs atop the bike with ease. Her arms wrap around you, sending a shock of heat through your system and your heart rate into the stratosphere as she asks, “Do you happen to know where the PLEDIS building is?”

“Funnily enough, I do,” you tell her, smirking with sinister intent as inspiration strikes. “What’re you, a trainee or something?”

“No …” Kyulkyung murmurs, averting her eyes as she continues, “I just have a really good reason to want to be there before 11:00.”

“Sure. Yeah. Totally,” you say. Her eyebrows raise; yours respond in kind. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth. You continue. “You, the ‘School of Performing Arts’ student—in said uniform—strutting around Gangnam of all places. You’re gonna try and convince me you’re not a trainee, just that you happen to have a ‘really good reason’ to be at an agency before a very specific time of night.”

“Are you trying to say something?”

“Two things actually: you’re full of shit and you’re out past curfew.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Why would it even matter?”

“Because I like being right, and you apparently hate being wrong. Aside from that, if I need to get you back before curfew, we’re going to have to book it, run a few red lights, pray that we don’t get pulled over—”

“Alright, enough,” Kyulkyung interjects, eyes rolling with a gymnast’s grace. “You’re not wrong, but let’s just focus on getting me back in one piece, alright? I’m pretty sure they care more about me being alive than on time.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you say it,” you insist. “Go ahead, tell me I’m right.”

“You’re actually serious?” she mutters in disbelief. You opt to let the silence act as your confirmation.

“Fine. You’re right: I’m a trainee. Happy?” Kyulkyung grumbles, grimacing as a grin overtakes your expression. “What gave it away?”

“I dunno, you kinda just seem ‘that kind of pretty’,” you say with a shrug. “Something about the way you walk too … honestly, nothing about you comes off as normal.”

“Bit rich for you of all people to say that, don’t you think? I wouldn’t exactly call this a ‘normal’ way to spend a Friday night.”

“I wouldn't either,” you admit, smiling wide as you respond. “But are you—the trainee—really gonna be the one to lecture me about running headfirst towards an enticing risk?”

“No, I'm not,” Kyulkyung says, her grip on your ribs tightening. “Though I might not be so kind if you keep me out in this rain any longer.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” you wheeze out, struggling to catch your breath as you paint on your most dramatic pout. “You’re no fun … but you are kinda cute, so I guess I can cave just this once.”

“Good,” she replies, smiling in smug satisfaction. “Now, let’s get going! I’m cold.”

“As you wish, princess,” you say, revving the engine and speeding off before she gets the chance to respond.

You immediately lose any semblance of newfound confidence as the unfiltered brunt of the elements threatens to overwhelm you on your first time riding without a helmet. First, it’s the scent of rain. Then, it’s the rain pummeling your brow. Finally, it’s the noise. Your motorcycle roars and the cars passing you scream off into the night as they pass—it’s all just so fucking loud and every single sensation threatens to pull your focus away from the road. Yet even amongst the brutal weather of a stormy night, Kyulkyung’s thoughts resonate through your mind clear as day. You feel her heartbeat race as you accelerate out of a turn, feel her cling to you tighter at every hint of yellow in the stoplights above. Without fail, she wordlessly pleads for you to choose caution, and, without fail, you do whatever she asks.

At one such intersection, you ask a question of your own: you let go of the handlebar and place your hand atop hers. Kyulkyung's response is just as silent, but she needs no words to tell you yes as she intertwines her fingers with yours as you wait together. Even through the drenched material of your glove, the heat of her touch wards off the cold, sending a surge of warmth through your shivering body as you both stare ahead into the awaiting darkness. You revel in the sensation as long as possible, right up until the light turns to green and you’re forced to pull away.

As she embraces you once more and you accelerate forward, a realization cuts through the fog and arrives at the forefront of your mind: you just met this girl and you already know you’re never going to be able to say no to her. And that’s … okay?

Yes. There’s something about her that takes the tension out of the knots in your shoulders, makes you breathe just that bit easier—at least when she’s allowing you to do so. It’s all too easy to ease into her embrace, all too tempting to take your time weaving your way through the tangled web of your home suburb’s streets. The thought proves far too tempting and you choose to do so, desperate to preserve the sanctity of these seconds spent together.

Unfortunately, the night only lasts so long and the road only goes so far, so you’re soon met by the familiar sight of your destination. You force yourself to ease off the gas, allowing your momentum to carry you forward until you come to a stop across the street from the building in question. With a sigh and a swing of your leg, you step off the motorcycle and turn to face her as you offer her your hand. This time, Kyulkyung accepts, taking it and joining you on the sidewalk. After loosening the chin strap, you gently pull the helmet off her head, granting you a glimpse of her parted lips before revealing the excitement and expectation in her wide eyes.

“So, what’d you think? Kinda fun, right?” you ask, allowing your eyebrows to lift in expectation as you await her response.

“Maaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyybbbbbeeee,” she says, drawing out that single syllable just long enough for smirks to overtake both your expressions.

“You know what? I’ll take it. And you—” you say, turning away for a moment as you unlock one of the side compartments of your bike and pull something out. “—should take this.”

Kyulkyung lets out the slightest squeak of surprise as she catches the umbrella you toss her, though the surprise is quickly replaced by the disdain and disbelief overtaking her expression. “Wait, you’re kidding. You have to be. You had this the whole fucking time?”

“Yep!”

“And you still felt the need to convince me to risk my life on that screaming metal death trap?”

“I thought it’d be a valuable experience,” you say, shrugging once more. “You can keep the umbrella by the way; it’s all yours.”

Kyulkyung’s sigh of resignation is all that keeps the street from falling into silence as you stand there, waiting for her to voice her thoughts. Eventually, she does so. “Give me your phone.”

“So greedy, honestly. I just gave you a ride and my umbrella, yet you’re still asking for more?” you scoff. Still though, you do as she asks, pulling it out of your pocket and unlocking it before handing it to her.

“It’s one of my toxic traits,” she replies as she taps away at the screen. “Everyone else seems to have gotten used to it, so I’m sure you’ll be fine, eventually.”

“Oh?” you ask, eyebrow arching as she piques your curiosity. “You hoping I’ll stick around?”

“No, I was just texting myself from your phone for the hell of it,” she says, sarcasm soaking her words like the rain-soaked streets as she finishes typing. “It totally wasn’t because I was gonna ask if I could get you coffee or something, as thanks for getting me home safe.”

Kyulkyung finally looks away from the screen, meeting your gaze with an infectious smile as she offers you your phone. “That’s unfortunate. I really like the thought of someone else paying for my drink.”

“Yeah?” she asks. A pause. Then, “Maybe we’ll just have to make it happen.”

“Maybe we will,” you agree. With that, you turn and remount your motorcycle. Before you go, you offer her one last smile as you bid her farewell. “I need to get back, but I hope you have a good night and good luck with—” you gesture wildly at the beautiful mess standing in front of you “—explaining everything I guess.”

“Thaaanks,” Kyulkyung grumbles, pouting as she shudders at the thought and ripping a warm laugh out from deep within your chest. As it echoes against the buildings’ frigid walls, her hints of a smile bloom into her own peals of laughter that harmonize with your own as they resonate as one.

“I hope you have a good night too,” she says softly after a short while. “Try not to die on the way home, alright?”

“No promises.”

Kyulkyung’s eyes roll once more, but there’s genuine gratitude in the nod she gives before turning away. As she disappears into the building’s darkened halls and vanishes from your sight, a chill courses through your veins, leaving you shivering as you adjust your helmet and take off down the road.

Barely a minute passes before you reach your apartment complex and the pale brick and light blue tones that define its color palette. After locking up your bike, you hike upstairs, step up to your door, turn the latch, and reveal … the silent darkness within. Empty, just like always. Muscle memory guides your hand to the switch, momentarily blinding you as the cool whites wash away the darkness to reveal the relaxing hues of your home.

While the sight normally instills a sense of calmness, it all seems to blur as the chill refuses to leave your body, rendering you seasick as your head swims. It remains even as you peel away your gloves and free yourself from the soaked leather of your jacket, leaving you shivering even as you turn on the shower and pray for it to heat quickly. As you wait, you decide to check your phone and see what message Kyulkyung sent herself.

You can’t help but scoff at the assumption, but it quickly shifts into a smile as you compose your response.

You (10:59 PM): When you read this, let me know if you got home safe.

I don’t want to put the time into making coffee plans if you’re not gonna show up

You (11:08 PM): You’re insufferable

You (11:08 PM): How’d everything go? Were you able to sneak back in?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Oh, easily

You (11:09 PM): Not your first time pushing curfew?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Definitely not

Kyulkyung (11:10 PM): And definitely not the last either

You (11:10 PM): Can't say I'm surprised lol

You (11:11 PM): I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, even if the most interesting part has already happened

Kyulkyung (11:11 PM): Lol thanks, try not to get into too much trouble while I'm not there to supervise

You (11:12 PM): No promises

(My sincerest gratitude to @capslocked as always for their contributions towards bettering this fic. This was a draft I started a while ago that I didn't foresee myself finishing, but as I was editing it, I had the idea of posting little vignettes from the plot that I had written instead of making it a singular narrative. The plot I had in mind originally spanned something like 4 years, so just writing the highlights seems like a better fit (if there's interest for this story at all, I know it's an idol that's been away from the industry for a bit). Regardless, thank you so much for spending your time reading my work and I hope you enjoyed it!)

[perfectlyoongi]

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who likes to play with your hair, feeling your silky strands caressing his thin fingers. in the middle of conversations or in the cozy silence between you, Jimin's fingers always found their way into your hair, feeling a wave of relaxation immersed in your soft strands. “lay down on my lap. let me caress your hair while you sink into a deep sleep. let me take care of you.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who compliments you every time he sees you in new clothes, especially when he knows you're wearing a combination that makes you nervous. Jimin knew almost all the clothes you wore by heart, so whenever a new outfit or piece of clothing appeared in your closet, he was always ready to compliment you with a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes. “you were truly created by gods. you’re beautiful anyway, believe me.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who knows the code for your cell phone but only uses it to fill its memory with photos of him. it started as a joke, but now it was more of an addiction for Jimin; whenever you moved away from your phone, Jimin was ready to pick it up and leave you little reminders of his affection for you. “it’s a gift for you. so when you feel sad or alone, you can always look at me and know that i will always be here for you.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who likes it when you tell him you like him, the smile he wears being the widest of all. Jimin didn't want to deceive himself, he reminded himself over and over again that it was just a platonic confession, but that didn't stop his heart from beating a little faster at the sound of your sweet words. “can you say that one more time? just so i can remember how good it makes me feel. please.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who can't look away from you, admiring your every move, retaining every gesture you made. the shine in Jimin's eyes was intense, pure, reflecting your natural beauty and gentle essence; you attracted Jimin's attention and he didn't care, because it was when he looked at you that the whole world started to make sense. “i feel like i only started to understand the meaning of life from the day i met you. you changed my life forever.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who finds himself bragging you to his friends, words filled with love and devotion reflecting what was in his heart. Jimin didn't even realize he was talking about you, the words just came out naturally, praising every aspect of you, tenderly framing your entire existence. “hundreds of stars collided with each other at the beginning of time just to create you, the most beautiful and unique being in the entire universe.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIMIN who stumbles over his words when he confesses his love for you, muttering meaningless phrases, but highlighting that word that carried so much power. cascades of words escaped Jimin's mouth, leaving you a little confused, but making you smile when that specific word was repeated over and over again. “i think i know it’s love. but i don’t want it to be strong, because love is scary, but it’s how i feel.”

[aurianavaloria]

KoH - What Good May Come (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Mixed/Split (Tiberias - Fem!Reader - Baldwin)

Length: Long (8k+ words! 😬)

TW: Vague mentions of disfigurement/leprosy

A/N: FINALLY, I've finished the Y/N fic that was voted on so long ago in this poll. Since the results were fairly close, I simply eliminated the least-voted option and went with a combination of the rest. 😁I've tried my best to keep Y/N truly generic, although she is female; in all other ways, though, it was my hope to make her vague enough that readers could envision whomever they liked in whatever universe/version of the story they wished. Backstory and circumstances are also left as vague as possible. As far as personality, I tried to go with what seemed most popular in general, again in an attempt to appeal to the widest audience. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

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“She adores you, you know.”

It was these words from Tiberias that broke the silence between king and vassal – a companionable one… one born from years of acquaintanceship that had seen both parties through their fair share of strife and misunderstandings. A type of camaraderie perhaps only two leaders in their position could comprehend and be satisfied with.

The Count of Tripoli watched as his liege-lord’s attention was drawn from the bright Jerusalem outdoors into which he was all but forbidden to emerge. Watched as eyes as blue as the sky Tiberias knew was above drifted to his own. One was clouded, now – a sign of impending blindness. But Tiberias remembered well when both possessed such a clear and sharp forget-me-not stare, bidding all who beheld their gaze to indeed forget them not…

“I beg your pardon, Raymond,” the king replied, the silver mask he wore slightly muffling carefully-chosen words, smooth as the waters of the Jordan. “My thoughts have wandered, as they often do these days, and I am uncertain as to whom you refer.”

The smallest of laughs escaped Tiberias’s lips as they briefly twisted into a half-smile – a response to His Majesty that perhaps only he could get away with. He swirled what remained of the deep claret wine in his goblet, leveling his gaze at the king over the rim; the Count had known his lord since before he had come of age, and no amount of masks could cover the fact that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was always aware of more than he pretended.

“Forgive me for my lack of clarity, my lord,” Raymond answered wryly. “I speak of Lady Y/N.”

“Ah, yes.”

Baldwin’s response was accompanied by the slightest nod, silver shimmering with the movement as it caught a sunray. His eyes fell to the chess pieces that functioned not as part of an actual match between them, but merely an occupation for restless hands. Particularly the king’s. Gloved in white, one of those half-numb hands still somehow moved with grace, a slender finger perched atop the head of a knight, resting upon the carved arch of the stallion’s mane.

Tiberias noted the short answer, half-sighed. No doubt His Majesty’s thoughts continued where his lips dared not to go, if the Count knew him as well as he thought he did…

“She speaks of you fondly and often,” Raymond added, sipping of the wine. “I believe she is single-handedly determined to bring your presence back into court by mention of your name and titles alone.”

White fingers released the knight. “The court is far too vicious a place for as good a soul as hers,” Baldwin said at length, sitting back in his chair, another sigh escaping him like the hiss of steam behind his mask as he glanced away. “Lately, I have been thinking of what to do with her. It is increasingly obvious there is no place for her here. Not amongst these vultures.”

“Oh?” Tiberias’s brows arched high. “Isn’t there?”

“No. There is not.”

At that, the Count’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward, setting his goblet on the chess table and folding his hands in his lap. “My lord, surely you aren’t thinking of sending her away. Not from here, where she has found joy despite everything.” He caught his liege’s gaze as it returned to him, adding pointedly, “Where you have found it.”

“My joy is irrelevant,” Baldwin replied flatly. “And as for hers...” he paused, and Raymond could see the king’s throat bob past his bandages. “It will not persist. It is best she seek it elsewhere, before that which she has found here meets its inevitable end.”

The corner of the Count’s mouth twitched. “You, or Jerusalem?”

“I am Jerusalem,” the king answered simply.

Tiberias glanced away, closing his eyes for a moment as silence stretched between them. The Count in him knew that Baldwin was, in a way, correct. Disaster loomed on the horizon – a kind of calamity from which they might not return, and it would most assuredly begin with His Majesty’s death. If the physicians were right and not being overly generous in their assessment, then the king had less than a decade left in his short life. And imbeciles like Guy de Lusignan seemed determined to shorten it further. Yes, she would be safer – and perhaps happier in the long term – elsewhere…

Yet there was something so terribly tragic about it all that Tiberias couldn’t help but feel sympathy grow in his heart for the boy. Yes boy. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow a man’s whiskers on his cheeks before that damned disease had twisted his face almost beyond recognition. And Tiberias had seen it all. Even through the at-times frustrating trials of Baldwin’s kingship, the Count of Tripoli had watched as the golden-haired warrior of sixteen years had wasted away into this silver-faced specter that had become far too wise, far too young…

…but he had also watched those specter’s eyes glow with a long-absent light the moment Y/N had stood before him. For a fleeting instant, he had once again seen the eyes of a younger king, reminiscent of past joys and glorious victories.

Baldwin would extinguish that light in an instant for her sake, romantic fool that he was. Or perhaps it was Raymond himself who was the fool, as he thought of Y/N and how she, too, had been drawn to the king the moment they’d met. How such a precious creature, so rare upon this Earth, had fallen into such a deadly trap… and now it seemed, like a snared rabbit, her only option was to chew off her own limb before the hunter found her.

How to rescue them both from such a fate?

“The girl is in love with you, my lord,” he began after a moment, his voice a growling murmur. “To send her away would break her heart. It would destroy her.” He shook his head, meeting the king’s stare with his own. “As it would you, and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, Tiberias?” Baldwin asked, Raymond’s more familiar moniker finally coming out now that the Count’s words had pierced past the royal façade. “To let her stay will cause her only despair, and that will destroy the both of us as well. And I cannot be that selfish to such a benevolent soul.” Tiberias heard a long exhale behind the mask as the king cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if searching for answers amongst the lofty vaults. “Were it not for this disease I would ask her father for her hand and devote my life to her as her husband before the altar of God. But I am a leper, and I am forbidden that.” The pale gaze that returned to the Count’s was a haunting one now, as if all the ghosts of Purgatory screamed through it for salvation. A mirthless laugh followed, a dark sound born of darker thoughts. “It seems I can do nothing else but waste away before her very eyes. So tell me, my wise vassal – if I cannot protect her from what is to come, what is it that I can do?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Tiberias’s lips. “Love her, my lord. As I know you already do.” He paused, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his sword-calloused hands together as he thought.

“It’s the whole reason for your self-flagellation, is it not?” he continued after a moment. “This talk of sending Y/N out of Jerusalem – your crown tells you one thing, but your heart tells you another, and for the first time you want to toss the crown by the wayside, and that makes you fear you are an incompetent king. So you pick up the crown again in hopes it will crush the heart, and perhaps the love along with it.”

Another sigh, the lids of the king’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I only wish to do what is right, Tiberias. It is what I have striven for my entire life, and I will not abandon such principles now. If it means my own suffering, so be it. And as for her,” his eyes opened once more, latching to Raymond’s, “tell me what good may come from the love of a leper.”

This time, it was the Count who sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Peace. Mercy. Comfort. Everything you have brought to this kingdom.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, peaking his fingers. “You cannot know that a little cruelty now will not hurt her any less than what will come later. But you do know that loving her can only bring happiness to you both in the present moment – and that is what she lives for. Not the future.” He cocked his head at the king. “There is nothing wicked in what she desires. Nor in what you wish for her. The both of you want nothing more than the other’s well-being. How can that be anything but right?”

Raymond saw Baldwin’s throat bob again, the mask shimmering in the sunlight as he shifted in his seat, first looking down towards the floor, then back to the illuminated arcade.

“How shall I court her, then?” he inquired at length, his voice softer, cynicism at last yielding to tender warmth. “How to show her this affection of mine without forever staining her honor?”

Tiberias’s jaw worked as he thought for a few moments in silence. “If you wish to be discreet, my lord, I believe I may assist in this matter.”

It was then, as Baldwin returned his attention to the Count, that the latter saw a glimpse of boyish mischief sparkling in his liege’s eye. “I would trust no other to the task.”

================

“My lady, a courier flagged me down today and told me to give you this.”

Your lady-in-waiting approached, holding out a small wrapped parcel.

“What is it?” you asked, interest piqued.

The handmaid shook her head. “I have no idea, my lady. The courier didn’t say.”

You felt your brow furrow as you took the parcel in hand. The fabric was fine, but not terribly so – a soft cream color, tied with a simple yellow ribbon.

“Hmm. I wonder who it is from.”

“He didn’t say that, either,” your companion commented.

Curiosity mounting by the second, you decided to succumb to the impulse to open the parcel, tugging at the ribbon. Casting it aside, you pulled back the corners of the fabric to reveal a folded piece of parchment, within which had been tucked something slightly weighty…

Merely tilting the parchment to the side let the object slide free into your waiting palm, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped you. There, in your hand, lay a lovely brooch, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed in from your window. A small disk of gold, swirling floral patterns weaved across its surface and wound about its edge like vines of roses. At its center was set a sapphire cabochon, polished and glimmering, and from its bottom edge hung a single creamy white pearl, like a teardrop in shape.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

The words came from your lady-in-waiting; you were too busy still holding your breath as you took in the details of this exquisite piece. You ran a finger over the filigree and atop the smooth stone in wonder. Who could have possibly gifted you something so beautiful and why?

As if reading your mind, your fellow courtier prompted, “Maybe the parchment says who it’s from.”

Finally remembering to breathe, you nodded, carefully unfolding the small piece of vellum to see a tight, neat script, punctuated with neither signature nor seal:

You will never know how much light you bring into the lives of others. It is my only hope that this small token of my regard brings a measure of light into yours.

This time, it was both you and your handmaiden who gasped in unison, barely stifling squeaks of girlish delight as you exchanged looks with one another.

“You, my lady, have an admirer!”

In awe, you stared at the parchment, reading the words over and over again. But who could have possibly written them?

“So it seems,” you replied at length, running a thumb across the surface of the brooch.

“Well,” your comrade continued, straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “that will give you plenty to talk about at the feast tonight.”

Your brow furrowed. “Feast?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yes, feast! Princess Sibylla arranged it. Perhaps you’ll find your mysterious admirer amongst the guests there, hmm?”

At that, you could only blink for a moment, your thoughts a whirlwind in your mind. Of all the things to find in Jerusalem, you hadn’t quite expected an admirer to be one of them…

“I’m not sure whether to be frightened or excited by the prospects,” you finally replied honestly, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“Oh, lady,” your handmaid admonished, swatting a hand playfully at your shoulder. “It will be quite fun, I’m sure. The princess’s functions are always lighthearted affairs, or so I hear. I imagine there will be dancing and merry music aplenty. Just plan to enjoy yourself, and if something – or someone – intriguing comes along…” she trailed and winked.

You tried to fight the blush that sprang to your cheeks, but to no avail, leading your handmaid to laugh heartily. “Ah, my lady. By your leave, I must see to a few things before evening falls, but I will return to help you get ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, giving a nod of assent. “Of course.”

With that, the lady-in-waiting dipped into a polite curtsey and left, closing your chamber door gently behind her and leaving you to your increasingly-anxious thoughts. Your attention returned to the parchment and brooch – both were fine indeed, indicating that, whoever your admirer was, they were certainly someone of status. Yet there was a certain practicality to both; the author’s penmanship was practiced and elegant, but not overstated, and the brooch itself was obviously expensive, but neither was it overly extravagant.

It was also a rather fitting gift, considering you had only just lost your old one on the way to Jerusalem…

And then it hit you.

It can’t be…

Your heart began to beat harder in your chest as it all came to you in a rush. Yes, you’d lost your beloved brooch on the long journey to Jerusalem – one of your last remaining ties to your homeland. A silly thing to get upset about, you told yourself later on, and yet the loss of it affected you even after your arrival at court. Nevertheless, no one up until that point knew besides your lady-in-waiting. And there was only one Jerusalemite native to whom you had confided that little detail.

The king.

Your mouth ran dry as you remembered the instance as clearly as if it had been yesterday. It was only your third day at the palace, and you’d yet to become accustomed to its maze-like halls. Couple that with your fascination with the local architecture, and that led you to places, in hindsight, you probably ought not have tread. Yet no one stopped you, even as the number of palace guests thinned and you emerged upon a quiet, sunlit terrace…

…only to run right into a tall man in white.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that you’d plowed headlong into the king himself – quite embarrassing that. In fact, you were so mortified that you were sure you would die of it on the spot, even as you apologized profusely with the deepest curtsey you could manage on weak legs.

To your surprise, however, not even the slightest admonishment came from him. Instead, he chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask he wore. That caused you to look up, still frozen in your curtsey, and that was when you saw the bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life looking back at you, their squinted corners evidence of a smile behind the almost-angelic visage of silver.

You smiled back nervously, at which point he bid you to rise, assuring you that you had done nothing wrong. An awkward introduction followed, during which you admitted that curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you praised the well-kept grounds and the lovely accommodations you’d been given…

As it so happened, however, he already knew precisely who you were from your name alone – where you were from and why you’d come to Jerusalem. Whether he had gleaned this information from spies or the rumor mill of the court, you weren’t certain, but the more he spoke, the more difficult it became to keep the flabbergasted look off your face. And along with that astonishment came the slightest bit of fear – if he knew this much about you, how much did everyone else know?

Despite your best efforts, though, you must have been unable to keep your face expressionless, as that was when he had invited you to his chambers to speak further in private.

To say you were surprised by such an offer was something of an understatement; it was the last thing you expected to hear after what had just transpired between you, especially from a king to a freshly-acquainted subject. And yet you found yourself quite unable to decline even out of modesty. For one thing, declining the offer of a king seemed most imprudent, and for another…

…well, you were actually rather curious about His Majesty, unwilling to end the encounter just yet.

So you followed him, marveling at him all the while. You knew he was a leper – that was something you’d been informed of before you’d departed for the Holy City – but that didn’t frighten you. You had seen lepers where you were from, and they hadn’t frightened you, either. You also knew the mask was meant to hide the deformities beneath. In fact, it was the presence of that mask that had led you to guess the identity of its owner before it was ever confirmed by his lips – it was a symbol as powerful as a crown. None of that was what had drawn your curiosity; you were motivated neither by morbid fascination nor a sense of pity.

No, it was his astonishingly-welcoming demeanor that had you almost spellbound. The easy willingness to listen and to forgive. The quiet, yet poised decorum. You’d known men and women alike with rank much lesser than his who possessed a cold and domineering manner that was immediately off-putting to almost everyone around them. Yet here was the king of this realm, conversing politely with a lady who had merely lost her way.

Already you had learned volumes about his character, and he’d barely spoken at all.

He had posted guards, you noted, but they kept their eyes straight ahead as you passed them, following King Baldwin into his private quarters. It was a mighty struggle, but you managed to resist the urge to succumb to the eye-wandering that had gotten you into this situation to begin with. Instead, with the same discipline of his guardsmen, you glued your gaze to his back, occupying yourself by mentally tracing the subtle patterns in his coat of white damask silk.

Ultimately, he offered you a seat, and as you accepted with another curtsey, he sat himself a respectable distance away, only the slightest stiffness of his limbs betraying his condition as he settled into the chair opposite you. In fact, you could imagine he occupied his throne in much the same manner as he leaned back, both white-gloved hands curving over the ends of its arms. A servant, unbidden, came forth out of the shadows with a fresh cup of wine, which you took with a polite nod. The man then retreated as quietly as he had arrived, disappearing beyond sheer curtains of pale fabric.

And then, you talked.

It was mostly he who asked the questions, and you answered them as best as you were able; you weren’t brave enough to ask him much of anything, and so you settled for what small bits of information he voluntarily divulged over the course of your conversation. All in all, it was a relatively light discussion. He mostly inquired about your homeland and of your journey – of whether you had experienced any hardships or had witnessed anything of interest on your way to the Holy City, and if you had troubles acclimating to Jerusalem. It was during this exchange that you revealed the caravan’s run-in with thieves… how they had stolen what small bit of jewelry you possessed, sneaking in and out of the tents of the pilgrims and vanishing into the desert night before anyone could catch them.

You only offhandedly mentioned the brooch as the one piece you had any sentimental attachment to. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure if he had been listening at that point, as he had closed his eyes for a long time. You thought perhaps he might even have fallen asleep for a moment; if so, you couldn’t blame him, as you knew his condition was exhausting – you couldn’t imagine dealing with it on top of everything else expected of a king.

It was also quite possible that you were boring the poor man out of his mind with your lengthy and rambling answers, and he was simply too polite to cut you off.

Yet if what your gut was telling you was right, then he had indeed been listening, and far more closely than you could ever have realized…

You hadn’t known, however, at the time. Instead, you’d felt increasingly self-conscious as his eyes opened again, their gaze meeting yours with a piercing stare. Truly, it was as if he was looking through you rather than at you as you turned the conversation to lighter matters – mostly all the wonderful sights you’d seen since arriving in the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem itself. Your observations seemed to please him, and he voiced his gladness that you were, for the most part, enjoying yourself. You’d thanked him for his hospitality, and it wasn’t long after that the discussion ended, king and subject cordially parting ways with nod and curtsey.

Little did you know that one meeting would soon turn into two. Then three. Then more.

Somehow, a few days after your unexpected first encounter, you ran into him again in the garden – though, thankfully, not literally this time. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he once more invited you to further conversation in private, and again you accepted. This time, he inquired if you knew the game of chess, and to your surprise (and secret amusement) he appeared rather pleased when you affirmed that you did. He then promptly challenged you to a match, to which you heartily agreed. Yet even though you were handily beaten, it was an enjoyable game, and you found yourself acquiescing to a future rematch.

It wasn’t long before these games became almost a routine part of your afternoon, save for the days when His Majesty was busy with his council or holding court. And it was during the course of these games that you realized just how lonely he must have been. For the more games you shared, the fewer of them were seen to completion; far more time was spent talking with the board sitting untouched between you than it was actually playing.

He never kept you longer than you desired to stay, and certainly never more than was appropriate for an unmarried lady such as yourself. In fact, he seemed to leave the coming and going mostly to you. Yet you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, their corners crinkling with a smile you couldn’t otherwise see. It broke your heart that he spent so much of his days, outside his duties, in near-isolation, when he was such a thoughtful, inquisitive, and intelligent soul… such a joy to converse with. And so you’d been sure to praise these qualities amongst your fellow courtiers whenever the chance arose…

It had only just occurred to you in the middle of a recent sleepless night that the reasons behind your persistent compliments might have run a bit deeper than the simple desire to keep his spirit alive in the court he barely saw.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when your eyes met – those eyes that you couldn’t quite decide were more like the sea or the sky. And it wasn’t just the content of his speech you enjoyed, but the way he delivered it… with a voice that was so easy to listen to for hours on end, so reflective of his serene and introspective nature.

And then there were the times, when he accidentally fumbled the pieces, that your fingers and his gloved ones nearly touched. When you both reached for the fallen pawn only for one of you to swiftly withdraw, each time followed by a soft chuckle. But you couldn’t ignore the sensation that charged the atmosphere, like the feeling that permeated the air just before a storm, and your heartbeat was the warning thunder in your ears…

You shook your head, your thoughts returning to the present as you rubbed your thumb over the brooch’s smooth gem. It was then that the tiniest doubt began to tickle and nag at the back of your mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was merely a coincidence? Something your heart foolishly yearned for, but that your mind knew well would never happen?

A frown pulled at your lips. Baldwin had proven to be someone to whom you could speak about almost anything without fear of reprisal. Nothing you had confided in him had ever escaped the bounds of his chamber – and there was plenty you had discussed, especially lately. Even if he hadn’t sent this jewel, you could trust him to advise you with wisdom. And despite his relative absence from court, there was no one who knew its members better…

By the time your handmaid returned to help you prepare for the evening, you’d made up your mind.

“I shall wear the blue bliaut tonight. To match this lovely brooch.”

================

Even past the bandages of thin linen and the silken veil covering his ears, Baldwin could still hear the distant strains of music floating through the palace’s long and lonely corridors… the latest in Sibylla’s efforts to keep the place lively even as its king slowly wasted away, out of sight and out of mind.

He could have made a surprise appearance, he supposed. He did that on occasion, whenever he felt particularly energetic, much to his physicians’ chagrin. It was mildly intriguing to see what kind of looks he would receive and from whom– though by this point, those expressions and their bearers had become almost boringly predictable. Fear and awe were ever present, manifesting in the form of slackened jaws and widened eyes and hushed whispers behind hands and veils. Rarer looks of disgust and revulsion were always quickly covered by feigned indifference. Then there were those especially-bold souls who dared to reveal their open contempt in their thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

It was pity, however, that he despised the most.

Dread, loathing, hatred – these were all traits with which any monarch could be clothed whether they wished to or not. Such was the burden of leadership. But pity…

Pity was a mantle that was distinctly his to wear.

Every time he saw it in the faces of those who looked upon him, he was reminded that his crown was secondary to his condition. That they saw the Leper before they saw the King. It was not that he lacked appreciation for those who truly worried for his health and his well-being, but in their eyes he saw reflected back at him what he tried desperately to ignore from the moment his physicians departed in the morning until they returned at night to dress his wounds.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, and his quill stilled, poised for a moment in the one hand of his that still had life in it before he reached to return the pen to its stand.

Lady Y/N had never looked at him that way.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered if she was enjoying herself this night. If Sibylla was hosting her well. He hoped that she was, and that his sister had not overwhelmed the poor girl with her almost shamefully lavish tastes. It was evident that Y/N was quite unused to Jerusalem’s abundance in almost every respect; those first few days after her arrival at court, her wide-eyed wonder had rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, or so he’d heard.

A light hum escaped him at the memory of their first meeting. It seemed as though it was forever ago, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if it were only yesterday.

She had been rather distracted, he recalled… so distracted, in fact, that she hadn’t seen him in the corridors, watching as she’d unwittingly wandered into the realm of the royal apartments. With great accuracy, he’d anticipated the trajectory of her meandering steps, and he purposefully made to intercept her before she breached the threshold of what the guards deemed acceptable, even for a lost lady.

Baldwin wasn’t quite as quick as he used to be, though, in part due to that damned dragging foot of his, and he’d neglected to account for his reduction in speed, resulting in an unfortunate collision on the terrace above the gardens.

Or perhaps, he thought in hindsight, it was fortunate after all…

He’d heard enough from his informants to guess who she was. Tiberias and others amongst his court might have suspected she was an assassin simply playing the part of a lost newcomer, and he had to admit that the thought had crossed his own mind, if briefly; in a world such as theirs, it was difficult to imagine anyone without some kind of ulterior motive. Yet it soon became apparent that she was as innocent as the day was long – if there was anything his disease had given him, it was experience reading tone and body language, and he wasn’t certain the best actress in the world could have feigned her level of self-conscious nervousness.

No, Y/N was simply curious and lost. And from what those same informants had told him, she was in desperate need of someone local she could trust. Though evidently satisfied with her new home in every other way, she had been slow to acclimate to the social environment of the court, preferring to keep to herself whenever possible. From this, he suspected her need to get away from the appraising gazes of total strangers was what had initially propelled her away from the great hall, and her natural inquisitiveness had continued to pull her into the quieter depths of the palace.

But the faint smile she’d worn and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with fear the instant she realized who she’d run into, and the stuttering apology and low curtsey she’d given him betrayed her anticipation of reprimand.

That was something he’d had to correct, and quickly.

In the moments that followed, he’d gauged it most appropriate for them to smooth over this encounter by getting to know each other better, and thus he’d invited her to do just that in the privacy of his quarters, where they would face little chance of interruption.

As he’d hoped, she’d accepted. And it was this first conversation of theirs that had led him to believe that Lady Y/N was terribly lonely.

Her chatter was slightly nervous and yet, at the same time, somewhat eager. There was little doubt that he’d learned far more about her than she had about him; with but a little coaxing, he had discovered much about her circumstances and about what plagued her. It had displeased him greatly to hear about the thieves that had raided her entourage’s tents on the way to the Holy City, and it irked him even more that she’d lost a treasured possession because of it. Her journey had already been a long and arduous one – had that not been enough?

Y/N put up a rather convincing façade of indifference on the matter, but when he focused on her voice alone, he heard her pain. No, she was no actress, he concluded.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her willingness to make eye contact with him… to look him full in the face and speak freely with every question he asked; she dodged neither query nor gaze. Outside her initial fright on the balcony, she displayed few other signs of trepidation regarding his presence. In fact, it seemed as though she’d just been waiting for someone with whom she could share her thoughts and feelings – as if she’d bottled up everything he’d asked about since arriving in Jerusalem and finally found someone willing to listen.

Had she truly felt so comfortable with him already, or was she simply a trusting soul? He was unaccustomed to both, and it was… refreshing.

His instincts warned him that the jackals of the court would surely eat her alive, and he feared what their viciousness might do to her. What kind of slander and gossip would come from what had been innocent curiosity on her part. How much her character would be maligned for sport. The very thought of it being a possibility made his blood boil.

Over the course of their subsequent conversations, however, he was forced to rethink that initial assumption. Kind-hearted she was, and still too good for the likes of her peers, but she could hold her own among them better than he had anticipated; a few casual inquiries over a few chess matches revealed that much. She saw, heard, and understood far more than her outward appearance would suggest. Behind that warm, gentle, and charmingly-inquisitive exterior was a clever and tenacious woman whom he found to be utterly captivating. No matter the storm around her, she always projected an air of geniality and good cheer, evidently determined not to let this unsettled world tear her down.

In short, the court didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

She never asked him for anything, and likewise she didn’t press questions upon him about his condition. Whenever they passed time together, he felt like neither king nor leper, but like an ordinary man. In her sparkling eyes and healing presence, he saw not pity, but life. A normal life for once. One where he did not have to dread what the next morning might bring.

Alas, that glorious feeling of contentment left him with her every departure.

The sound of exuberant cheers down the corridor pulled him from his musings, and he found himself back in the relative darkness of his chambers, watching the candle’s flame flicker upon his desk. He wondered which dance it was they’d just finished, imagining Y/N in his mind’s eye moving as hypnotically as that very flame. If she danced as beautifully as he envisioned, she would have the whole court entranced…

“Sire, you have a request for an audience.”

The guard called from the entrance to his quarters.

“Who is it?” he asked, hope, dread, and fear all churning in his stomach in a toxic maelstrom. He hadn’t the patience or the energy to deal with most petitioners this night, other than-

“Lady Y/N.”

His eyes widened.

That was quick.

Hope surged forth at the mention of her name, but neither dread nor fear was eliminated by this revelation. Not completely. He had a feeling the gifting of the brooch he’d commissioned would bring her to him sooner or later, but he hadn’t anticipated it being that very day, and especially not with the festivities Sibylla had planned…

Perhaps it is not that, he reminded himself solemnly, but something else altogether.

“I will see her,” he called back at last. “Let her pass.”

There were precious few seconds for him to compose himself before he saw her, at first a shadow at the entrance to his chambers, and then illuminated by lamp and candlelight as she cautiously strode forth. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her, her eyes glittering like stars from all those dancing fires. She wore the most beautiful court dress he’d ever seen her in – a sapphire-blue silk bliaut, laced tight at the sides to flatter her form, seemingly a thousand shimmering pleats flowing from her hips to the floor. At her waist had been tied a fabric belt of lighter blue, embroidered in gold, double-wrapped about her body and knotted in front in Frankish style. Her belled sleeves, with their golden trim, allowed only a glimpse of her stark white chemise beneath, and there, upon that same trim that adorned the dress’s wide neckline, had been pinned the brooch, pulling the dipping V above her heart into an elegant keyhole.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a curtsey, offering a smile that shot straight to his heart. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”

“Not at all,” he gestured for her to rise, turning in his seat to fully face her, “although I would have expected you to be at my sister’s gathering.”

Another smile. “I was, in fact. Alas, I felt the need to speak with you on a matter of great import. I hope Her Highness can forgive me for my early departure.”

The king nodded once. “I am all but certain she will. I am, however, glad you were at least able to make an appearance,” he remarked as he slowly rose from his chair, stifling a groan that threatened to escape him from his aching limbs. Then, pausing, he tilted his head as he allowed himself to take in her attire once more. “You look lovely. It would have been a shame to have wasted such beauty on my poor eyes alone; better indeed that you allowed others with keener sight the chance to appreciate your taste and talents before slipping away to these dark and distant halls.”

Even in the low candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush, and as her gaze briefly flicked away from his, he felt his twisted lips pull into an unseen smile.

“You are too kind, my lord,” she replied. “In truth, I found myself… inspired… by this new jewel I received just this afternoon.” Her fingers drifted to that very piece, pinned above her heart, and Baldwin forced himself to school his gaze… to pretend he hadn’t been the one to write up the specifics of its creation for the royal jeweler… that he hadn’t entrusted it to Tiberias to give to a capable courier… that he hadn’t prayed to God he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by daring to tread on this unknown path.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes meeting his. “Believe it or not, it is, in fact, the subject of my concern.”

Something in both her gaze and her tone told him she’d made the assumption he wished. Good. He had no desire to drag this out; indeed, hadn’t the time for it. And now that she was here, following the lead he’d purposefully fashioned, his only task was to find out if Tiberias was truly right about her and her feelings…

Swallowing back where his heart had gathered in his throat, he replied coolly, “Yes, it suits you. Although, I am uncertain as to why you would approach me for such an opinion,” he added with a chuckle, slightly bemused at the way she was choosing to approach this mystery. Indicating the chess table where they’d held so many conversations of late, he beckoned, “Come. Sit.”

Wordlessly, she acquiesced, dipping her head before moving to take her usual place, as he did his.

“I…” she began after a moment, her stare focused on one of the pieces as he settled himself opposite her. “Well, the truth is, I was hoping I could ask you for advice in a matter related to it. Regarding the one who sent it to me, in fact.”

“Yes?” he prompted as he watched her. Time to confirm that assumption.

“Well, you see… I don’t really know who sent it…”

His eyes met hers, squinting a little. “You don’t?” he asked, keeping the skepticism from his tone as he began to pull her thoughts from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “There was no name on the note that accompanied it, so I cannot know for certain who might have sent it. But,” yet another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling again as she leaned forth and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, “I do have an idea, and I was hoping perhaps I might pass my thoughts by you. You know a great many in your court, after all. Perhaps you could confirm or deny my suspicions?”

Oh yes, she knew. He knew she knew. And now she played with him as much as he with her, both seeking confession…

“Perhaps I could,” he answered musingly. “What are your thoughts, then, Lady Y/N?”

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze to the pieces once more, her fingertips toying with the white king, “I was just thinking of how appropriate such a gift was. Indeed, the person who sent it must know me rather well. It appeals so much to my tastes and is so fitting given recent events.”

His heart felt like it was about to beat itself out of his chest. “How fortuitous.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “And of those whom I’ve spent the most time with, there are few who would know me in such a manner.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

She paused, and he felt her eyes studying him intensely. “In fact, there is only one man who would have known just how fortuitous it was. Only one who would have known I would have need of such a piece. Now,” she leaned back a little, offering him a pointed look, “I do realize that brooches are popular as courting gifts,” she paused, her gaze latching to his, “but even so, I find the choice rather… convenient. Don’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand your meaning.”

Deafening silence stretched between them during which neither of them moved.

“Only one man,” she repeated, her own voice having gone quiet, and Baldwin saw her eyes glimmer in the lamplight. Before he could even open his mouth to offer another comment, she leaned forward again, her gaze burning a hole through him. “Only one man who bothered to know me. To know my heart. To care for me and my life enough to remember what I held dear.” He saw her swallow heavily. “You, my king. You sent it to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding once in affirmation.

“Do you mean it?”

Her question was barely a whisper, yet Baldwin felt it in his heart – a probing inquiry seeking out the truth of his intentions.

His blood was rushing in his ears. “Every word, written and unwritten.”

And with that final admission everything was confirmed on his part. But as for hers…

The tears were obvious in her eyes now, pooling at the edges of her lashes. In that moment, he was sure he understood how the condemned felt just before the stroke of the headsman’s axe, before the tightening of the hangman’s noose. What would her answer be, then? He knew in his heart it would be better for her to simply walk away. But would she? Would she willingly doom herself to heartbreak?

At last Y/N spoke once more, her voice a tremulous whisper, and he hung upon every word as though his very life depended on it.

“I know this cannot be a courtship in the traditional sense,” she began softly, her liquid stare never leaving his, “and I know what the others will say…”

He began to feel lightheaded. At this rate, he was going to faint before he could hear her answer in full.

“…but I don’t care. For as long as there is life left in both of us, my king, I am yours. In whatever capacity you desire.”

“Oh.”

The word left him on a whoosh of breath, hissing behind his mask as relief washed over him in a powerful wave, every muscle in his body relaxing at once. Yet he couldn’t help the warped smile that overtook his countenance behind that façade of silver at the implications of her words.

She…?

“Yes,” she said with a nod, as if hearing the question his thoughts posed. A soft laugh followed, even as a shimmering tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “I love you, Baldwin. With all my heart. And I have since the day we met.”

At that, then, there was no longer any question of her feelings. He felt his own eyes welling with emotion, and he leaned towards her as close as he dared, propping his good hand on the table for support. “I regret that I will never be able to show you the extent of my own for you, my dear Lady Y/N. But understand this…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “My purest devotion has and always will belong to you. As much as a wretch such as I can be, I, too, am yours.”

She shook her head. “You are no wretch. Not to me.”

It was then her hand slowly moved towards where his gloved one yet lay on the table’s polished surface, and he flinched, a spike of fear darting through him like the bolt from a crossbow. “Y/N, no…”

Her gaze bored into his, her hand yet poised above his own. “I’m not afraid, my lord.”

“Y/N… please…”

The word was barely a whisper, slipping between the slightly-parted lips of his mask before he could catch it – a cry for her to stop and yet a plea for her not to. It was as if he had been paralyzed, unable to move away despite every corner of his mind screaming at him to withdraw.

If the glove was not enough… if it couldn’t safeguard her…

And yet all thoughts of everything came to a halt the moment her fingers lightly grazed his own, his breath catching in his throat. He felt it – the warmth of her through the thin silk – and it took all of his strength not to flinch away from her again, to curl his hand into a fist and recoil in upon himself to protect her from his horrid disease. Her eyes searched his, seemingly sifting through his soul as further she went. Slowly. Steadily. Her fingertips brushed with a feather-light touch over each set of knuckles, back and forth, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were desperate for air as she traced the delicate golden embroidery on the back of his hand; they finally betrayed him then, a shuddering exhale followed by a hitched intake of air he was certain she heard.

Yet Y/N only smiled at him once more, in that warm and gentle way of hers, her hand stilling as it rested atop his. And the entire world stilled along with it, his fear slowly ebbing as reason returned to replace it. These touches were all they had, he realized. All they could permit themselves. And yet still they could hold all the tenderness of a kiss.

Speaking of which…

He moved much more gently, then, as he twisted his hand underneath hers to catch her fingers in his grip. His gaze holding hers, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles before bringing that hand to his mask, where the cold and unfeeling lips touched the back of it in place of his own disfigured ones.

Despite not being able to give her a proper kiss, though, she evidently still understood the gesture, as another blush flushed her cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he remarked dryly, “There appears to be a bit of an obstacle here…”

At that, uncontrollable laughter burst from her, merry and full, and she clamped her other hand over her mouth to muffle it, leaning against the back of the chair as she continued to shake. He, too, laughed softly at her merriment, and for a moment the sound filled the room with a kind of joy it hadn’t witnessed in years.

After a moment, Y/N finally recovered, and she glanced over her shoulder as the faint strains of another song could be heard. Her gaze glittering with stars, both hands grasped his now and gently tugged as she stood. “Come. Dance with me.”

He blinked even as he slowly rose before her. “I… fear I’m not capable of much these days…”

“Not to worry,” she assured him with a grin, “I’ve just the dance in mind. Like this…”

With that, she pulled him to the open floor at the center of his chambers and began to show him the steps – two sidesteps here, two sidesteps there, a slow twirl of the lady in his arms, and begin again. For the first few cycles, she counted quietly until he caught the rhythm, and then there was only a warm, comfortable silence between them, the two gently swaying and turning to the distant music.

Tiberias was right. In that moment, Baldwin knew only happiness. Peace. Comfort. And so long as Y/N, too, felt these things, he could be content with whatever God had willed for him. He could only pray that, upon his death, the Almighty would be merciful to this woman, a living angel on Earth…

================================================

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my writing, I also have a WIP Baldwin-centric longfic posted on Ao3 (shameless plug)! 😁Do let me know if you want me to continue this Y/N story! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, the dance mentioned at the end of the story was inspired by this lovely one:

[the-kr8tor]

Autumn of '88

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, Reader and Hobie are 13/14 in this, Puppy love, TTN! Reader and Hobie, set in the TTN universe, best friends to lovers (prequel to TTN), CW food mentions, Fluff.

A/N: This is the last of the 1k celebration fics! Thank you all so much ❤️❤️❤️

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Head on your palm, heavy eyes slowly closing with every dreary words that your biology teacher says, you fight a yawn from escaping since the last time someone yawned in front of Mrs. Weathers they got kicked out of class. But with the boring subject about symbiotic relationships in the wild, that you most definitely already know since you did the advanced reading, you're tempted to yawn loudly and widely just so you could escape from this biology hell.

The air is crisp, October air breezing through you from the open window to your left. Clad in your cardigan and yellow corduroy pants, the cold still seeps into the thick fabrics. It's a comfortable cold but with you sitting still for more than an hour without stretching your limbs has you freezing in your seat.

You risk getting called out by Mrs. Weathers if she notices you looking out of the window for even a second. But you are so bored out of your mind that you'd rather stare at the oak tree outside than continue to listen to her yapping about symbiosis. Having the brilliant idea to hide your wandering eyes from the teacher with your hand slightly covering your profile, now safe from her piercing gaze, you watch as the orange leaves dance with the breeze.

There's a pile of dead leaves at the bottom of its trunk, and you wish you could jump inside and never have to study biology ever again. It must be so warm and cozy inside, with the orange and yellow leaves as your sky and walls, you'll live like a tiny mouse queen ruling over your land. You think of all the stuff you'll bring inside your little leaf kingdom, your sketchbook is definitely a yes, and also your big pack of colorful markers and pencils is an absolute need. You'll need some snacks of course, some eggos and cheese balls would suffice. As for sleeping, you guess you'll never need to sleep when you have so much time to do anything you want in your leaf kingdom.

Yet, you think you'll be lonely inside. Sure you can bring your gameboy or your care bears, but they can't exactly talk and have the most riveting banter with you. With a smile, you plan to bring your best friend with you to your autumn kingdom. Hobie can be your bard or your right hand man. It's perfect, you think, a perfect place where it's just you and Hobie where there's no more school to attend, no more grades to keep up, just you and him having fun in the pile of leaves.

With a sigh, you blink slowly as your eyes get heavier and heavier with every daydream. Fighting the sandman from having his sandy grip on you, you pinch your cheek subtly. Opening your eyes, a familiar silhouette appears right next to the oak tree. Long arms waving in your direction, legs jumping to get your attention. Blinking rapidly, it's none other than Hobie who has the widest grin on his face when he notices that he finally has your attention.

He motions for you to go outside, beckoning you over dramatically. Miming that he'll cry if you don't go outside. You think otherwise, quietly giggling at his antics.

After the realization, you straighten in your seat, wondering why and how he got outside when he's supposed to be in maths.

A loud thwack slams against your desk, jumping awake, Mrs. Weathers shakes her head, tongue clicking in agitation.

“If you're not prepared to listen in class it's best that you should leave, miss L/N.” She says, gritting her fake teeth.

“Okay,” you stand up to collect your things, shoving your notebook and books inside your already full backpack. Your reply has Mrs. Weathers confused, since you are her best student.

“Wait—” you've never seen her flabbergasted, your classmates snicker silently in their seats, some even clap and cheer you on.

Giving them all a shrug, you exit the classroom before she grabs you back inside. With the door shutting close, you sprint towards the exit. Trainers squeaking on the linoleum, backpack heavy, you push the double doors open with your shoulder. Hobie greets you outside just as the fresh air whips at your cheeks.

He claps slowly but surely, face proud with a smug smile. “I've got to hand it to you, Pingu, I did not expect that. I have successfully made a rebel out of you.”

Hobie stands on the grass like he owns the entire school, hands tucked inside his jeans, thumbs tapping on his metal belts that clinks against each other when he moves. For once, he's dressed for the weather, the old worn leather jacket now fits him better than last year, it was bigger on his shoulders back then. Puberty works in mysterious ways, you think. A denim vest lays on top of the leather, handmade pins of his favourite things are all tacked securely on the denim. Its edges are frayed, but you know it was intentional since you're the one who helped him do it. The thrifted ‘Queen’ shirt you gave him on his birthday is the perfect size, but you know that he'll only be able to wear it for a couple of years at the rate he's growing.

No one would think you two are best friends judging by how different your styles are, or how different you are to him. Personality wise, likes, dislikes, it's all different, sometimes you wonder how you two get along. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

“How'd you get out of maths?”

“Climbed out of the window before Mr. Keery came in.”

You doubt his story. “Yeah, right, your classroom is on the third floor, Hobie.”

He feigns hurt, “my own best mate doubts my abilities?” You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks says otherwise. “‘m great at climbing, I could climb down from that height.” You stay silent, looking at him with a raised brow and unblinking eyes. “...fine, I faked sleepin' by snorin’ loudly, happy?”

You touch his shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Hobie, you don't have to fake snore because you snore like an elephant giving birth.”

“You're very funny,” he takes your wrist to push your hands away. You now notice the new nail polish on his nails. “That doesn't even make bloody sense.”

You ignore him, mouth agape and shocked at his painted nails. “You finally coloured your nails?” You take his hand that has nail polish sloppily painted on. The paint even reaches to the edge of his nails, painting his skin with shadowy black. “You could've asked me for help, y’know.”

“It's part of the style” He shrugs, taking his hand away before you can feel his pulse pick up.

“Sure, even the bubbles are in style.” You tease with a playful smile. “So why'd you call me over here?”

“Got bored, then thought you're also bored so I went to your window so we could skip the rest of the day.” He purposely skips the part that he knows exactly where you always sit.

You gasp. “Wait, I thought we were just skipping class, not skipping the rest of the day!” Hands on your hips, you shake your head. “And here I thought there's like a really cool… stick or something.”

“A stick?” He chortles.

“Yeah, like the one you found a few days ago that actually looked like a sword.”

“Nah, I wanted to—” A high pitched whistle echoes out, startling you both. Finding the source of the sound, the school guard is currently running towards you. The hundreds of keys on his belt jingles, cheeks red from all the whistle blowing.

“Oi!” The yells, pointing accusingly at you two.

With wide eyes, Hobie takes your hand before sprinting away. He practically drags you along with him, bigger strides than you, he looks over his shoulder to check on you. Unsurprisingly enough, he has a huge grin on his lips, as if he planned all of it.

You follow his lead, dead leaves crunching under your shoes, backpack weighing you down. Yet, he doesn't leave you even though you're slowing him down. You appreciate him for not letting your hand go, but you don't like how your heart hammers against your chest when you look at your intertwined hands.

Finally reaching the metal fence, Hobie chucks his backpack over it. It's not that tall for him, he could easily jump over it with no problem, but with you still waiting on your growth spurt, it'll be a challenge for you. He knows it too, without asking he grabs your bag off your shoulders, he then quickly throws it over the other side before crouching down with his hands on top of the other.

“C’mon, Pingu, up you go!” Hobie flicks his eyes over to the guard, he's glad that the guard isn't exactly a track star. The whistling gets louder as the uniformed man gets closer. “Hurry—!”

Before he could finish saying the word, you shakily put your foot on his palm. With one strong push, and a jump from you, Hobie hoists you over the fence. You miraculously make it over, landing on your side with a groan. Hobie follows a second later, climbing like his life depended on it. Immediately grabbing each of your backpacks, then putting both on one arm, he lifts you up from the pavement with one hand just before the guard could even reach the fence; you two race off across the street, huffing and aching from the daring escape.

Going around a corner, Hobie leads you towards an alley. He skids off to a stop, heavy bags falling off his arms.

Hands on your knees, lungs burning, and face sweaty from the run, you check behind the corner if the guard is still after you.

“He won't follow us anymore. We're out!” Hobie exclaims, exhilarated, and grinning widely. He leans on the wall opposite of you, chest heaving, laughter echoing around the empty alleyway.

Copying his stance, cracking a smile, you laugh together with him. “You're a bad influence, Hobie Brown.”

“And you're a great influence, Y/N L/N.” His smile and his shining eyes says it all: we balance each other out. “Too bloody nice, that's what you are.”

You shake your head, chin resting on your clavicle to hide your lopsided smile. Heat on your cheeks, you seem to find yourself having the same expression lately whenever you're around him.

“Where to?” He asks once he caught his breath.

“My choice?” You ask, smile permanently etched on your lips.

“‘course,” Hobie says it like it's the most obvious thing. He was supposed to add to his sentence but he shuts his mouth before he could let the word escape.

You excitedly perk up. “The mall?”

He makes a face. “I'd rather stay in maths.”

“Arcade then?”

“They'd kick us out,” you knit your eyebrows in question. “Because we're skippin’ class, they put up that fuckin' sign a few weeks ago.”

“Oh right, I forgot. How about the record shop? Mike's cool, he might let us stay until classes are over.”

Hobie pushes himself off the wall, strutting over to you, your heart quickens for some reason. He pats shoulder with a smirk. “Your best idea yet,” taking both bags off the grimey floor, he puts them both on each shoulder. It's your turn to smirk at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say in a sing-song tone.

He clicks his tongue, avoiding your eyes. “C’mon then, before someone sees us here and thinks we're skippin' class.”

“Hobie, we are skipping class.”

“Not if we act like we're not.”

“...what?” You chuckle, blinking in confusion. “What would you do?”

“Nothin’, let's go.” He walks away from you.

“Oh come on, what will you do? Will you put on your best acting skills like how you faked being sick in front of the nurse? Because she was definitely convinced that you had chicken pox!” You giggle, following him, matching his longer strides.

“It worked, didn't it?” Hobie turns his head away from your playful glance.

“Yeah, because you had an actual fever. But sure, your drawn on chicken pox was very convincing.”

“I'm an artiste, Y/N.” He says, trying to do a french accent.

You snort, “sure, and I'm the queen of England.”

“Alright, your majesty.” He stops, “carry your own luggage,” your bag thuds on the pavement. “I don't want to help some parasite.” Smugly walking away, you feign hurt with your loud gasp.

“You…you doodoo head!” You yank your bag, wearing it properly on your back. Running after Hobie, he has a mischievous smile, one you're all too familiar with.

“Doodoo head? That the best you can come up with?” He says before bolting off, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey!” Running, you follow him with a laugh. “Asshole!”

—

Finally reaching the vinyl shop, the bells jingle as you two enter. The smell of plastic and cheap air freshener lingers in the air, the ancient shaggy carpet is soft under your trainers. Shelves upon shelves of records greet you as you roam your eyes around the different album covers. It's a slow day so the store is empty except for Mike the cashier who has headphones on.

Hobie sniffs dramatically, “home sweet home!”

Mike cracks an eye open, with a groan after seeing you and Hobie standing by the door, he chucks his headphones on the counter, looking disgruntled. The denim jacket with hundreds of patches and bottle cap pins is large on his lanky frame.

“Oh great, Hobie's here.” He says sarcastically, long straight hair flipped over his shoulder with one move from his head. “And he brought his little girlfriend. Hi, Y/N, you still hang out with this arse?” He points at Hobie who doesn't bother correcting him anymore. “Seriously, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“D’you finally have it, mate?” Hobie acts like he's the same age as Mike, even though the teenage cashier could be his older brother. Ignoring Mike's jab, he waits for his reply.

Wanting to quit his job is clearly seen on his face. Then he considers the fact that he needs to save for college. With a sigh, he points towards the end of the store, where you think ‘it’ is there.

Hobie punches the table with a thump, then he excitedly bounds over to where the cashier pointed. “Thanks, bruv.”

“Cyndi Lauper?” You ask, all wide eyed and shy. “It's not at the front anymore.”

“Over to the right, just across where your boyfriend is.”

“He's not my—nevermind, thanks.” Walking past all the display, Hobie guffaws when he finds what he was looking for. You smile at how happy he is.

He's so happy that he grabs you by your elbow, pointing at the new ‘Ramones’ album. The words “Ramones Mania” are printed in bright red.

“Finally! Look!”

“I see it, Hobs.” You chuckle, “didn't this release months ago though?”

“It did,” he sighs like he's recalling a bad memory. “But this place isn't making a lot of money from records like this, so Mike here!” He yells the last part to annoy the man. “Delayed ordering it. I had to come ‘ere every day just to remind him.”

You see Mike pressing the volume up on his walkman. Making sure that Hobie sees that he's not listening to him.

“You didn't tell me that.” You say, sounding a bit too hurt.

“Thought you wouldn't care.” Hobie shrugs, “‘sides, you don't listen to stuff like this.” He points at the album.

“I could listen to it, Hobs. I make you listen to my records and you seem to like it.”

Hobie's eyes soften. “You wanna listen to it together then? You might not like it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “If I don't end up liking it then at least I gave it a try, right? If I do like it we have something new to talk about.”

He could only manage a smile and a curt nod. Taking the record to the listening booth that sits at the corner of the store, he leaves his bag outside whilst he opens the door for you. Placing your bag down more gently than he did, you enter the cramped booth.

Mike yells after you two, “you lot better not snog in there!” You and Hobie scrunch your faces at the man.

“We're fourteen, mate!” Hobie yells back, not agitated, just weirded out by Mike's comment.

“You're fourteen? How would I know? You look fuckin' sixteen, bruv! Tall motherfucker.” He whispers the last part, Hobie didn't hear it but you surely did.

“I thought he was cool.” You admit, shutting the booth door behind you.

“He's a wanker, just actin’ like he is. Thought you fancy him?”

“Ew.” He beams at your reaction.

You giggle, the sound bouncing off the padded walls of the booth. It's just a regular rectangular box with a shelf for the record player and a bench to sit on. It's quieter inside, the cars outside are muffled, the only clear thing you can hear is how your heartbeat gets faster and faster the longer you stay squished inside the booth with him. Sitting down, you leave enough space for him. Hands on top of the other, you roam your eyes around the cracking paint on the walls, mind making shapes from how the navy blue paint crumbles.

Hobie carefully takes the record out then places it on the record player. Sitting next to you, you can practically feel his excitement reverberating. He takes the headphones from its rack, turning each around so you and him could listen at the same time.

“Ready to shit your trousers?” He asks, eyes glinting from the single light bulb. He's so close to you that you can see yourself in the reflection in his eyes. And you can see every single strand of eyelashes that's perfectly blending in with his eyeliner.

“I don't want to poop on my trousers, I like this pair.” You joke, and you pat yourself on the back for making him laugh. “This is corduroy, Hobie.”

“Alright quiet time now.” He presses play as you hide your amused smile.

—

You bask in the sunset, eyes closed, you let the autumn air kiss your cheeks, your hands are behind you, propping you up. Despite the dusty pavement, and the looming problem of getting found out that you skipped school, you're perfectly content where you are right now. It would be perfect but you're missing something, or someone for that matter.

Cold air suddenly blows right behind you, the convenience doors close with a hiss and that's your cue to look up. Hobie appears upside down in your vision just like you thought, he tilts his head, you can see the cogs in his head turn. Placing the cup on your forehead, he laughs at your crossed eyes. Condensation rolls off from the plastic cup and into your skin.

Hobie takes it away before you could catch a cold. Sitting next to you, he hands you your bright slurpee. There's a mix of colours, red and blue melting into the orange and purple.

“They didn't have the brown one.” He says as he rips open a pack of Doritos. “There's no puddin’ pops either.”

“Aw,” you say slightly disappointed, but the sight of the box of nerds inside the plastic bag helps remedy your disappointment. “Ooh nerds!”

“Where?” As he says it, you see a grin slowly spreading on his face. “I only see one right here!” Chortling, grin wide, the orange hues of the sky paints him with its watercolour glow. You'd take this sight more than a day alone at the arcade.

“Ha ha.” You say flatly, sipping your drink too quickly, you wince loudly. Hobie guffaws into the barren space, save for the 711 behind you and the woods sitting quietly in front of you. His laugh echoes, even with his amusement, he still has the time to pat your back affectionately.

“Ow.” You rub your temple.

“What’d I tell you before? Drink it slowly, love.” The title slips out of his tongue. The second he realizes it, he hides behind his own cup, sipping wordlessly as he stares off into the woods.

Love, the simple freudian slip has you blinking at him slowly. He has never called you that before, he has, however, called you a bunch of nicknames that are either sweet or to purposely annoy you. But love? You've only heard older teenagers call each other that, and they usually have their hand inside their girlfriend’s or boyfriend’s back pockets when they do. You have no idea if Hobie has mistaken, because you're clearly not love, you're pingu, you're cheese, you're pebbles, hell, you're even lad, or his best mate. Never love, because that's reserved for someone you actually like, someone you truly care for.

Is he mistaken? Mimicking something he has heard around school?

“I should've told you about the album.” His voice wakes you to the present.

Do you care for him? Of course you do.

“What?” You breathlessly ask.

He's your best mate after Danny left, he was the only one who filled that lonely lonely gap he left. You think he's stuck with you forever, and he thinks you're stuck with him forever. Strangely enough, you both think it's perfect.

“Me pestering the shit out of Mike.” You knit your eyebrows at his words. He looks down at his boots, a small puddle at his feet reflects his own confused face. Is he apologizing? Why is he apologizing for? Weirdly enough, you both ask the same question.

You'd annoy Mike for him. You'd call the shop endlessly just so they would order his record. Even if you get in trouble for the telephone bill.

“You would've helped.” Hobie continues, eyes now looking into your own.

Care, it's a simple word, but you think it's not enough to describe how you feel about him, how you really feel about your best friend. It's much more than that.

“Yeah, I would've annoyed him too.” You softly smile at him.

“I know, love.” Because he knows you, and you know him too. Hobie utters the title more confidently, the word rolling off his tongue like butter. He makes it sound like he has been calling you that in his head for a long time. Maybe he has. “I know you would.”

He had the answer the whole time, it's not just you caring for him. It's love, it's love in its earliest state, it's love at its most innocent.

You love him, that revelation scares you, but it's better not knowing how you truly feel whenever he smiles at you and your heart skips a beat. Now you know, you'll tell him one day, one day when that feeling gnaws at your chest. But for now, you'll settle with drinking slurpees with him, you'll settle for skipping class so you could listen to records with him. For now you'll settle with loving him as his best mate, and for now, you're content just by being at his side.

[fuctacles]

sports au!!!!!

The booth was stuffy and smelled like it’s been forgotten for a decade. But the equipment was new and the glass pane was cleaned up, giving Eddie a clear view of the court.

“Is this a good moment to say I don’t know the rules?”

The coach, and his PE professor, looks one step away from murder.

“Just remember our team is wearing green.”

“Yes sir!”

The man squints at him with clear distrust so Eddie gives him his widest, purest smile.

“Good thing nobody’s listening to the campus radio.”

The joke’s on him; Eddie has garnered a lot of listeners over the past months. Listeners that he might lose after hosting a live sports event. 

“Don’t be too weird. I might send you someone to help with the rules so you don’t completely ruin it.” He pats Eddie on the shoulder, his palm so heavy it feels like he’s trying to pin him into the chair, before disappearing behind the door in the back. Seconds later he’s visible walking down the steps to his team.

Eddie looks at his watch. It’s going to be the longest four hours in his academic history. 

He turns to the concsole, frowns at the unfamiliar dials and switches and focuses on the ones he knows. Tunes everything to his best ability, takes a breath, and clears his throat before starting the broadcast.

“Hello, students of Indiana University! I know it’s a Friday night and you were hoping for some nice tunes to party to, but prepare your pillows for a nap instead because you’ll be listening to a football match. No, wait, basketball. I’m pretty sure. 

Anyway, dunno why you’d listen to a match instead of going to see it, but ya boy needs to pass PE this term so here we are. 

And here comes our team! The green ones. It’s greens against blues tonight, folks.”

“Tigers versus Roaches, actually.”

Eddie turns around and sees a tall boy enter his studio.

“First of all, who the fuck names their team Roaches. Second, we have an intruder in the studio.”

The boy extends his hand unfazed.

“I’m Lucas, your interpreter. Since I’m benching for the first half anyway.”

“Booo, I was just going to make up rules as I go. Now you’re gonna make it boring.”

But he shakes his hand anyway and lets Lucas sit on the chair next to him.

“Careful, I’m a dedicated listener. My friends too, you’d probably lose your whole audience.” He smirks. Eddie scoffs.

“I’ll let you know, tiger cub, that many people listen to Munson’s Midnight Metal Madness.”

“I meant the DnD show.”

Eddie looks at the boy, his neat haircut and team jersey.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I’d love to talk more about it later, but now let’s introduce my teammates.”

Eddie hands him the microphone to spit out names he’s never heard before and whatever their bearers' positions were. He hopes the coach doesn’t mind it. All Eddie could do was like, comment on their appearance. Which…

“Where did you get that one from? America’s poster boy catalog?”

He watches Lucas’s face twitch with the effort not to laugh.

“That’s Jason Carver. He’s vice-captain now and will take over the team once Steve graduates later this year.”

“Which one’s that?”

“He usually comes out last.”

Eddie asks about the important stuff - the team's average height and where Andy got his haircut. He looks over the group of young men appraisingly.

“You know what, if I knew y’all play in these funky white socks and guns out I might have gotten into sports commentary earlier.”

Lucas chuckles, but Eddie's on a roll. 

“Especially with such a great co-host, Lucas Sinclair! He’s not on the court yet but he’s being an invaluable source of lore in the studio. Don’t think I’d forget about you, man.” He nudges the younger student. “What’s your specialty on the team?”

“Well…” Lucas scratches his cheek sheepishly. “I’m probably the fastest and my throws are pretty good,” he admits. “Oh, that’s Steve!”

Eddie looks to the right, where a dude with Harrington on his jersey walks in, smiling wide to friends and families watching. 

“Damn, that’s some magnificent hair,” Eddie whistles.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what he’s known for. This hairdo lasts through the whole game, dunno how he does it.”

“He’s gotta give me some tips, because I look like a wet rat by the end of the day. And I don’t even do sports.”

“I’m pretty sure you look like a wet rat no matter the time of day.”

The jab was true but even if it wasn’t, Eddie had a more important thing to focus on right now. 

“Does your captain have a tattoo?” he asks, squinting through the window. He was pretty sure it was ink that was peeking from the bottom of Steve Harrington’s shorts, but it was so out of place on a college athlete, he needed a triple take and the ‘ask the audience’ lifeline to make sure.

“Yep. The coach says it makes him look like a criminal,” he snorts, showing what he thinks about it. “Steve said he regrets not getting it somewhere more visible so more people could see tattoos are not for criminals and rockstars only.”

“Your captain is a smart guy,” Eddie grins, almost sighing into it, to his utter horror. Just a glimpse of a hot guy from afar, a peek of a tattoo, and hearing of his liberal views was apparently enough to make his heart beat faster.

“The best I ever knew,” Lucas admits and it sounds like a Story, capital “s” and all. His next words confirm that. “Our friend group is planning matching tattoos and we are still talking him out of getting it above the neckline.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. 

“Sounds like a savage. I gotta meet your captain sometime soon.”

It’s at this point they notice the coach gesturing at them angrily and they get back to commenting on the game that’s about to start.

“Okay, so explain to me which laundry basket is ours…”

“Okay okay okay. So number four is a tank, yeah? He blocks the other players. Six is a rogue, who slips between the cracks. And number one, your captain, is a warrior who goes for the attack.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s like LARPing for normies,” Eddie realizes in awe and Lucas laughs so unexpectedly he starts to cough. 

“Sinclair! You’re in!”

They both jump at the sudden appearance of the coach. Lucas springs up from his seat.

“Yes sir!”

“It was a pleasure to host with you.” Eddie smiles at his new friend.

“You too. Catch you after the game?”

“Sure.” He smiles brightly, his head already swimming with ideas of how to fuck over Lucas’ future DnD character. Because playing together was inevitable, the dice were thrown, and the plot was in motion. 

Lucas passes by the coach who now turns his attention to Eddie.

“You’re doing good, don’t ruin it.” He looks in pain admitting that. “I might send someone else to help you out.”

“Thanks, coach.” Though Eddie doubts he’d be vibing so well with anyone else on the team.

Just five minutes later though, he’s proven wrong.

“Heard you’ve been curious about my tattoo?”

Eddie's so startled he knocks the microphone down and yanks out the cord in his haste to turn around. 

“Captain!” he yells like a dumbass, faced with the hair and boyishness of no one else but Steve Harrington. 

“Radio-man!” Steve yells back with a wide and teasing smile. “I’ve heard so much about you, man, you have no idea.” He steps closer. “My kids love your show.”

“Your kids?”

“My, uh, younger friends. I used to babysit them and it kinda stuck,” he admits with an awkward smile. Steve is nothing like the typical jock he’s come to expect and he’s everything Lucas advertised.

“That’s adorable, man.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” he pouts. He honest to god pouts.

“Not laughing!” Eddie raises his hands placatingly. “There’s nothing bad with a family-tight friend group.”

“Damn straight.” Steve smiles and sits on the chair vacated by Lucas. He eyes the microphone lying prone on the desk. “Technical difficulties?”

Eddie rushes to fix his equipment.

“You could say so,” he murmurs, trying to busy himself with the tangled cord. But a hand stops him before he can plug it in.

“We’re off the air now, right?”

Eddie looks over the control lights on the console.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You have beautiful eyes.”

“What?”

When Eddie woke up today, he knew his day would be weird. No day spent in a sports facility could be normal or pleasant. It was confirmed when he made a new friend with a member of the team, who was a listener of his DnD podcast. But the team captain hitting on him? That’s not your regular weird, that’s a bad strain of weed kind of weird.

“Lucas sent me over claiming a guy my type might be hiding here.”

It takes everything from Eddie not to take a look around. Logically, he knows there’s no one else in the booth. But his brain refuses to connect the dots. He licks his lips and cringes at the wet noise his mouth makes.

“What’s your type?”

Steve tilts his head and hums like he’s in thought.

“Weird, smartass nerd, as it turns out. With big brown eyes and great hair.”

“Uh, thank you?”

Steve only smiles at him, soft before it turns teasing.

“Wanna see my tattoo up close?” he offers. 

“Gosh, yes,” he admits with zero shame, eyes flitting down to the man’s legs. Was he curious about what type of tattoo a gorgeous sport-type guy would get? Yes. Did he want to ogle some hairy thighs? Also yes. It’s a two-in-one kind of deal.

The coach waves at them angrily to get back on the air, but Steve promises to tell him everything about S.S. Robin after the game. And no, Robin is just his best friend, Eddie doesn’t need to worry about her.

“In fact, wanna be my date to the after-party later? The kids will freak out when they meet you.”

How could Eddie say no to his fans' worship?

And to Steve’s hopeful eyes and the slight squeeze he gave his hand.

“Mingling with jocks in my free time?” Eddie turns his palm up to squeeze back. “Sure, let’s make this day even weirder.”

[silverhairsimp]

A Christmas Gift

After a weekend full of babies and listening to the newest Yazuya audio I got all in the feels.

Content: Don’t worry, no audio spoilers, FAKE ENDING!!! This is not how the actual audio ends. F!Reader. Talk of pregnancy, pregnancy announcement. Polyship Kiri x Baku x Reader Relationship.

A/n: I hope everyone has a great holiday and enjoys this little Drabble. it’s not proof read so don’t come for me and just enjoy.

Imagine coming home from a Christmas party, exhausted and ready for bed but excited to exchange gifts with your husbands. Kats is relaxed on the couch with you in his lap, soaking in this time with you with the fireplace softly crackling in the back. 

The house starts to fill with the scent of Christmas cookies and when Ei joins the two of you on the couch, he can’t help but start to sort through the presents. There’s a few for each of you, but one shared one from you for the both of them. It’s tucked away in the corner without a label or name tag, so it’s almost easily forgotten about. The two of them assume it may have been one from your friends, something generic and probably universal. When in reality, it’s anything but.

As Eijiro continues to thank the two of you for the thoughtful gifts and Katsuki is nearly drifting off in the sofa, you stand from the couch to reach for that box and the two of them are a little shocked. “Oi— I said only the gifts from each other tonight, we still have patrol tomorrow!” Katsuki grumbles from the couch as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “This one is for each other. One last one for the two of you…” You say softly as you had over the delicately wrapped box wrapped in a white bow. 

“You got us another?! Aww, baby… you shouldn’t have! You spoiled us both so much already.” Ei Smiles warmly as you sit on the coffee table in front of them. “I know, but this is the last one, promise.” You smile at the two of them and nod, encouraging them to open it. 

Ei starts to tug at the tail of the bow, carefully undoing it until Katsuki is able to slide the ribbon off. The first tear of the paper is deafening. Ei has the widest smile on his face while Kastuki’s eye brows are knitted in focus and curiosity as the wrapping paper falls off and the lid comes off the box. 

The inside wrapping is just as nice as it is one the outside. Perfectly folded tissue paper with a note and another little box. 

Eijiro’s smile dips every so slightly as he reads the words quietly before the two of them look up at you. “A—are you serious…?” Kat asks. “Read it out loud.” You tell him in return and Eijiro is already sniffling while he picks up the box, “To my future number one heroes, I can’t wait to meet you…” Katsuki reads aloud and Eijiro opens the box with a positive pregnancy test inside. There’s two actually, just to confirm it wasn’t a false positive. 

“Y-you’re… we’re gonna have a baby?” Eijiro asks as he stands to scoop you up in his arms. Katsuki is quick to remind him to be gentle with you, but you can see the blurry waterline he’s trying to hide as he stands too. 

“We’re gonna have a baby.” You confirm, all three of you are sniffling now but it’s all tears of joy. It doesn’t matter who’s it is biologically, you know at the end of the day, the little one is gonna be loved by both of their dads all the same. 

“Our Christmas’ just keep getting better and better.” Katsuki whispers against the crown of your head. And he’s right, after getting engaged last year, the pregnancy announcement this year, and by the time next year rolls around, there’ll be a little one to add to the mix.

[jaylaxies]

what are your hard thoughts on a Jock!Jeno x cheerleader! reader x Jock!jaemin scenario?

jeno and jaemin are as cocky as the jocks get and they have all the reason to be that way, they’ve got it all—looks, body, brain and of course, the perfect strategy to win every single match they play. they’re always together like the flocks of a feather. when you come to their university as the freshman, their junior and also join the cheerleading team, jeno can’t help but notice you jumping around in the little outfit, cheering for them with the widest smile on your face.

he thinks that you deserve a reward for being so good at your job, getting everyone jealous when he approaches you, asking for your number—something he never does in the usual setting, but that’s when jaemin notices you for the first time too, your pretty eyes, body, and your glossed lips, smirking with his tongue pushed inside his cheek. he gets exactly why jeno wants you, and that’s why he wants you too. “the louder you cheer for me, the harder i’ll fuck you,” jeno promises, and jaemin only watches the exchange from afar.

“settling for a girl? that’s so unlike you, jeno lee,” jaemin smiles teasingly and jeno laughs, “don’t think i haven’t noticed you staring at her too,” jeno pointed out, and jaemin only shrugged, “can’t blame me, she’s pretty,” he said, causing jeno to smile lazily, “wanna share? split her cunt with our cocks?” he suggests and jaemin’s eyes shine with amusement as he never actually indulged in a threesome before, yet he wasn’t the one to give up on such offer, especially when his eyes travelled back to you and your tits that bounced with your movements.

as expected, the boys ended up winning the game, winking your way and giving up the celebratory party for the very first time, only to take you back to their shared apartment, jeno kissing you fervently the second you stepped in while jaemin watched till you got to the bed, taking over and kissing you all over your body, not caring for your outfit and his strong hands ripped them in two, making you gasp, “so fucking pretty,” you whine as jaemin worked on your cunt, his soft lips on your folds while jeno bit and marked your tits.

your eyes widen dd watching how big their cocks were, they surely wouldn’t fit in, “gonna take us both, yeah? such a good girl, just a little more,” jeno whispered when you started crying, gasping for air when he pushed his thick cock inside your cunt, jaemin making sure to not let you breathe as he shoved his length inside the warmth of your mouth, fucking you together but not telling you reach your climax, simply because they wanted it when they both had their cocks inside you. it felt as if your pussy was being ripped apart yet it felt so good as you cried freely, both their cocks occupying your hole, not fitting properly but making you go crazy enough to squirt all over, making them go even more feral.

you were their new play toy now.

[pipnchips202]

while i eat up practically every valgrace fic i see, down bad jason grace for leo valdez is always one of my absolute favorites; so, here are 5 valgrace fics where jason is the pining one :)) (for the most part)

1. hopeless case by restinreeses

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“Nico,” Jason wheezes as he slams the door to the Hades cabin open. “Nico, I think I’m in love with my best friend.”

“No, really?” Nico drawls, barely looking up from his book.

Or: in which nico is jason’s wingman this time around.

AHHHHH!!!!!! this is REALLY good; i love the characterization and the many implications of jason having helped nico get with will prior to the events of the fic. also, platonic jasico will ALWAYS get me.

2. EP: things leo does; by jason grace by jacksonpercy (robertmontauk)

rating: not rated

warnings: none

God, he loves Leo’s laugh. It’s more like a giggle than anything - all high-pitched and bubbly; his mouth stretches into the widest smile Jason’s ever seen, and his tongue sticks out of his tongue just a little bit, and holy fuck Jason’s in love with Leo.

Shit.

[leo does things sometimes, and jason notices.]

i was very much obsessed with this fic at some point (still kind of am, actually). it’s basically a 5 + 1 of jason just pining for leo and i LOVE it. small warning though, there is a mention of kinks in the second chapter, if that’s weird for you. it’s really just an offhand comment and doesn’t get brought up again, so do with that what you will. they are teenagers after all, and as a teenager myself, i can confirm i’ve thought of similar stuff several times! but, anyway, this fic is really good.

3. staring at me (with your lips and tongue) by ethannku

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“You really believe all that?” Leo asks, and if Jason were more aware of the world, he might’ve registered the hopeful breathiness in his voice. But as it is, he’s far too focused on the hand on his chest. He nods anyway, once he realizes Leo’s asked him a question.

Leo huffs and leans closer while simultaneously pulling Jason closer.

For a moment, they just look at each other, their noses inches apart. Leo’s breath comes in soft puffs on his face. There’s a hint of a smile on Leo’s face, but the corners waver as if he’s having second thoughts. Jason registers Leo’s eyelashes flickering, and his blood sings when he realizes he’s looking at Jason’s mouth.

Or; Jason is down bad, and Leo might be too.

this one’s really good, too. lot of kissing. a few suggestive references/jokes but no suggestive actions, just kissing. also has many piper moments mixed in :)

4. Crooked Glasses by thebigqueer

rating: teen and up

warnings: graphic depictions of violence

leo & jason confess their feelings for each other in an arcane-themed alternate universe.

~~

Leo has always been flirty. When he casually smirks at Jason and tells him how handsome he looks; when he bites his lip suggestively and tells Jason that no, he doesn’t mind if he changes his shirt in front of him; when Jason asks what’s for dinner and Leo responds, “Not sure, but I know you’re the desert,” Jason doesn’t make much of it. Sure, an occasional blush and an attempt at jokingly flirting back, but Jason knows he doesn’t mean it. Besides, he isn’t special. If Jason had to count the amount of people Leo had made out with just in the past year, it might take both his hands.

But lately it’s been different. There’s a softness in Leo’s eyes when he catches sight of Jason, a more soulful smirk when he offers that they sleep in the same bed, a hopefulness when he asks Jason if he wants to come with him on his next haul.

i’m gonna be honest: although i plan to someday, i’ve never seen arcane. and this is an arcane au. however, even though i know absolutely nothing about arcane, i did understand this, i think. i’m putting it here because a) it’s well written, b) it does in fact feature pining jason grace, and c) i have very limited options when it comes to valgrace fics anyway, so i don’t have much of a choice. yes, there is action and a mild fight with sherman yang and connor stoll, but it’s not that graphic in my opinion, but that’s just me; what’s more graphic is actually the gratuitous descriptions of leo’s gorgeousness from jason’s pov (understandably so). anyway, this is a good fic; if you’re not familiar with arcane, you can probably still read it, because i enjoyed it quite a lot!

5. hold me, thrill me, kiss me by restinreeses

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“You love me,” Leo declares, his smirk widening with every passing second. “You, the great Jason Grace, love me.”

He fumbles for his words, but they melt in his mouth as Leo's hands snaked up the small of his back – those delicate fingers tracing patterns into his skin that burnt worse than his SPQR tattoo.

“I wouldn’t call myself great,” he mutters at last. Leo leans in, raising one thick eyebrow.

“I dunno,” he says, “I’d say you’re pretty great.” His lips brush over Jason's, once, twice. “You know. For loving me.”

...

In which Jason falls and Leo catches him.

okay, so i was debating whether or not to put this one because jason is still dating piper during this fic. she doesn’t make an appearance, she’s only mentioned, but jason and leo kissing is referred to by the both of them as an affair, which might make some uncomfortable. however, this has absolutely gorgeous writing. is jason still in love with piper during this fic, though? no. a bit complicated. however, it is, once again, pining jason as promised. they kiss a lot in this one, too.

enjoy!

— piper <33

[cutieeva]

Honey Comb Trap

Female Reader

Warnings : Manipulation. Obsessive behaviors. Brainwashing. Attempt child harming. Childbirth. Murder. Torture.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

(Y/N) believed herself to be fortune not only did she wished to have a happy ending of her future love story, she also got the best husband she ever knew existed in real life apart from fictions and dramas she grew up watching. He is sweet, sweet like the honey she loves to indulge in very much yet why does that seems dangerous suddenly ?

Love

Marriage

These two words are intertwined to each other always. Many questions arise in one's mouth hearing the word love following with 'When are you goona marry ?' And if the word marriage following questions asked 'Do you love your partner ?' These are universal vital question any adult would ask to another they care about because these words are connected. Not only love brings marriage for sake to never be separated and be together forever but also that brings the families of lovers together and this is where the word family enters.

Love, marriage, family. Not only marriage beings lover closer only for the couple to craft a little family of theirs but also it brings the families of the couple becoming a joint bigger family where supposed strangers become intertwined to one another. It could be a very positive or negative result depending on the situation. And very fortunely for (Y/N), the order of love, marriage and family were in right orders in the most wholesome way possible. She still to this day recalls the moment where she was at a art gallery smitten by the most beautiful of paints and sculptures of old figures only to met a emerald eyes man unbeknownst he is the future husband of hers for eternity. A lover unlike the prince charming that sweep her feet off nor a knight shining armor always there to protect or a villain who would burn the world for her rather he is much more sweeter, gentler and kinder. He is a wealthy man who's always cut the crust of her breads she doesn't like to eat, always orders food properly instructing her allergies, checks her water temperature, not let her soak in the rain longer, stands at her at any arguments yet teach her the mistakes of her anger in private, calms her down and most importantly loves her only like no other.

He is the epitome of perfect husband but in genuine ways. He has his own set of temper but he never takes on her, he has his shameful moment yet he learns from it. Nevertheless in her eyes he is the most perfect person to ever prevail upon. So, after their sweetest marriage, spending three years with the man her heart belongs to, she was pleasantly surprised with the little guest arriving to become their family.

"Asher ! I am pregnant !" (Y/N) jumped into the embrace of her beautiful husband bursting the amazing surpise.

However all (Y/N) felt was paused actions, unreturned embrace and blank stare. Nervous creeping into her as she let her husband go watching as the blank stare crumble into one of a astonished.

"W-hat are you saying ?" He stuttered.

"I am pregnant". Breathlessly she whispered after all it was bound to happen when they let her birth controls free and his condoms to rot in trash.

Finally his husband's turn into the expression she hopped to and was hit by relief seeing his smile lift into most widest she ever saw alike of the one when she said yes to be his girlfriend, soon his hands held her figure and swing into the air and spinning into the joys of laughter.

"O my god. What a happiest news you told me. I am goona be a dad". Asher without letting her feet touch the ground, touch her back of nape and kissed her until air become a need. "You are goona be a mom". He rest his temple onto hers to which she nod.

"We are goona be the best parents". She thought.

And this was proven more when she noticed from that day on he rarely let her do the only kitchen duties she adores and plop her on bed for twenty four hours watching something she desires, eating and let all the chores to the countless servants they have and (Y/N) openly loved it because this only shows how much he cares for her making her fall with him little more daily.

Even the usual meeting he has with his company has drastically decreased only spending time cuddling her, resting his head on her chest and staring at her growing stomach.

"How much would your stomach grow ?" She chuckles knowing he is the only child of their family and his relatives are rather distant from each other only meeting in parties or any festivals so meeting a pregnant woman is rare for him plus he never pays attentions to any of that making her ponder how he never talk about children unlike other husbands she has seen.

"Not much. It's only been three months". She caress her stomach not noticing his frown. "Do you wanna touch it ?" She hold his wrist tried to place over her stomach but he easily wave away touching her cheek and smiling.

"It's alright. I will meet when they come out". (Y/N) shrugged noticing how not once after she become pregnant. His hands were all over her body expect her stomach albeit she notice him often staring blanking.

"He is scared nothing more". She brush off the gut feeling of how distant he is related to children. Unaware he never wanted children.

After (Y/N) slept. Asher wake up unlocking his phone to search 'Does miscarriage hurts woman psychology or physically'.

Miscarriage is a traumatic event which affects every woman differently, but can lead to grief, anxiety, depression and so on, the words are written that he carefully read searching more and more until his curiosity was satisfied. "Shit ! That means I can't order any servant to miscarriage her". Frustrated and blaming himself of how he never cared to check her monthly period or anything which wouldn't had lead to a parasite taking place. Yes, a parasite is what he ought to like. An unwelcomed creature exhausting his wife that he gave her everything. He slightly doesn't like of anyone entering between them so naturally he doesn't like the idea of children who would snatch his wife away and only be ungrateful in the near future.

A parasite that settle inside his love who's life could be in danger during childbirth and when they grow their minds and sharp tongue to speak hurting things to his wife who's happy enough to gave them a life. "I wasn't at all happy when she announced her pregnancy". He still remembers like an nightmare of how he heard the words he didn't liked in his wife's mouth yet still acted all gleeful to not sadden his beloved. How could he ? Never in million decades would he afford to bring tears on those (E/C) eyes he adores like jewels and he can never images those 'I love you' into 'I hate you' at all. He didn't suffer only to have his wife know his true colors.

He didn't practice the ideal man to be hated by her. He didn't at all lied and beautifully crafted the setting for her to notice him at a art gallery rather than two months ago at a friend's party where she wore the gorgeous fluffy color dress she loves and in that moment he swore the cupid's arrow pierce his chest and written her name over his mind, soul, heart and body. He didn't simply became the gentle ideal man she would like for her to have. He created this whole persona of how supportive he is when she argue with someone and later talk with her when in reality he is clenching his anger and waiting for the right moment to kill the person burning flesh into ashes and bones to grind to the away. He memorized every little likes to dislike, frown to brighten eyes and every single thing. In simply words he unknown to her even made her thought of something that he planted in her mind first before she even came with it.

And this will be her bliss life of obvious. Ignorance is a bliss but his miscalculation was this parasite, now how can he get rid of that without effecting (Y/N)'s bliss life ? "I will see it later". He decided himself exhausted from the constant thinking and smiled contently at his wife's warmth.

"The child is five months and the doctor said it's twins". (Y/N) has begin seeing the signs of her belly evolving larger as the month pass even though this sign sometimes scares her of how much her skin could stretch. Sometimes she also imagine what if the skin brust ? She knows it's silly imagination or at least that what her mother told her though the phone call she seconds ago ended. Currently she is walking out of her room about to walk down the stairs to living room when she saw her husband coming out of his office room too, smiling ear to ear "Asher, dearest !" Yelled his name and stretch her arm to indicate of wanting a embrace when a female servant suddenly in hurry holding a pile of clothes run at her not aware of (Y/N) standing resulting crashing over her.

"ASHER !" She screamed feeling herself falling yet nothing out of her desperate grip came to pull or hold onto only gazing at the emerald eyes of her husband, she fell for. "Why isn't he running towards me ?" A terrifying question came upon her mind as her eyes closed on itself feeling her body to be crash soon that's when a grasp left her lips.

"What !" Her eyes opened in surprised as her husband's strong pair of arms held her waist and pulled before her body could touch the stairs. She blankly stare at Asher who seems oddly calm, holding her tight and bringing her to their shared bedroom.

"Are you alright ?" His eyes moved to her trembling hands and dilating pupils and held breath. "I guess not". He layed her on the soft fabric, covering her with blanket and gave her a glass of water to drink. After the cold touch in contact snap her to speak.

"Weren't you just stood ?" If she recalls correctly he seems to stand and stare at her not at all looked panicked unaware that few minutes ago before saving his wife, a second thought came to his mind.

"This will make the child die for sure". His heart almost dropped when he saw his life almost falling from the stairs yet the dark thoughts of his was gripping him in his place to rot the parasite he despise so much while not getting his hands dirty however.

The curve of her smile when her soft palms rubbed her swollen stomach whispering "I am happy, my love. This child created by us". changed his mind otherwise leading him to save the growing ungrateful brat and his wife.

"I was so shocked that I felt my body wasn't mine anymore". Asher smiled that didn't reach his eyes, glancing at the growing stomach covered by her long flower pattern frock.

"Oh". (Y/N) gulp the water thinking back to the expression he had with dead eyes and pressed thin lips shadowed by his hair. "It was scary". She never saw that expression adored over her husband before concerning yet fluttering her heart warm because that means he cares for her enough to risk everything and try to save her right ? Yes, she believes so.

"P-lease. Forgiv-e me". Pleds of forgiveness echoed the empty space of the nameless female servent he has not care to know name yet Asher express nothing. Like literally nothing of anger, pity, sadness, disgust. He blankly stare at her as his most loyal four men beat her at his orders without question and quick. Maybe because they too share the same fear of getting beat like the innocent woman by their master they serve loyalty to.

"And why should I forgive you ?" Finally he asked lifting a hope of light upon the bruised woman.

"Because I will make sure it never happen again". She breathlessly swore.

"Huh ?" He titled his head, smiling nothing like the angel he does to his wife rather this one sinister and far more darker filled with bloodlust. "What makes you say you will get another chance ?" Her heart dropped so does her hope.

"Now, fracture her hips". He commended tuning out the unwanted irritating of her screams and the cracks of her bones. He really doesn't like such unpleasant noises instead he like the giggles of his dearest, the snort of her laugh when she heard something unexpected, the cute hum of her, the music of her tune singing mindlessly. For all and each he solely find peace in his wife.

"Break little by little her spine". Asher close his eyes, deafening the chilling howl and bawl of her rather drowning himself into the image of his wife hmming her favorite song he learnt to love too.

"Crash her abodmen". He unconsciously mimic the images of his wife, watching how in her warmth of light home, she is hugging his torso, fingers over his disheveled hair and singing sweetly like an nightingale he never knew enjoyed.

"Bend her arms and legs alike of an accidental sprain". (Y/N) smiled at him mirroring the smile he wore in his lips, her fragile pads of fingers trace his lips like it's hers and indeed it is. Asher smiled more at the scenario building inside his mind totally indulging into the heven of his when he is hell for the poor shrieking woman helplessly under brutal force of hurting, tears has dried from how much it spilled yet another wail pour when her arms were sprained.

"Injure her neck alike of an whiplash". The men who were beating in heartbeat trembled questioning how on earth their master at perfect time is giving them the next order while closing his eyes and humming a pleasent tune. It sends shivers over the men and fear continue to do it's work.

"Finally". He opened his eyes, smile ghosted, eyes dead stare at the almost breathing woman. "Smach the head".

CLASH !

Darkness welcome the woman and blood wash over her head, cracking from the skull to touch the dirty sliver floor. A huge sigh of relief left his lips placing him into the happiest and relax mood he was. "Don't forget to cremate her body and grind the bones to vanish all evidence". His polish shoe turn towards the exist of his separate garage basement away from his house for ten miles.

The whole reason he punished the woman so painfully not because he wanted her torment or apologizes. No, one thing he learnt in his life that when an nagative action is taken place, no way in hell would apologizes ease the burns of the actions because he has seen it, playing in front of his life how once those schoolmate who bullied an nameless poor student later came begging to their feet, how once proud business men crawl their way to kiss up the people they unawarely mess up. He saw it all and he would be fool to be the next so he make sure any apologize of his mistakes that came out of his mouth is only planned, an act to sweep away the princess of his life. Thus, the woman's punishment was hurt the same way his wife could had been when she fell from the stairs carrying the leechs inside her stomach.

Hips.

Abdomen.

Back and neck.

Arms and legs.

Fetal distress and injure and more that he had took time to offer the woman one by one.

"Honey. I am afraid". Little tears welled into those (E/C) as her palm clutch into his much larger. "What if I die ?" Asher's suck his breath and tried his best to act the gentle husband she needs.

"My lovely, lovely (Y/N)" His fingers tuck the single hair behind her ears. "If god gifted you into my life then he won't dare to take away too. I promise". (Y/N) smiled at those comforting words, leaning into him before going to the operation room gathered by doctors and nurses.

"If I was the one to bring you into my life then I can also keep you". Soon the nurses took his wife wore dull hospital gown he realized doesn't suit her and watched her shut behind the doors.

"Mr. Harris, please sign your signature in the form". Asher eyes goes straight to the complication written as his wife is about to have c-section birth that he chosen after listening which is the least painful. Tighten the grip on the ballpen he signed.

"By the way doctor". The man dressed up ready to head to the surgery. "Save my wife". He finished, not a pled or request. It's an order that the doctor noticed.

"We will try to save the both—".

"No, if the child gives any slightest complication to my wife then immediately cut it out. My wife is more important". Those words were filled with vulnerability of how much love he bears for his wife yet the doctor felt bitter seeing how less connection the soon to-be-father is with his child. Yes, in his field he seen many husband choose their wives but the way the man utter so easily without any care of the child is unheard for the doctor.

"I understand. Your wife is the priority". Asher nod easing to able conveying his thoughts and his sight followed the man went into the room leaving alone the married man.

Cries of children rung the white halls turning the red light to green and the huge doors opened with the nurse carrying his twins and doctors coming out of the operation room.

"Congratulations ! You have twins, one girl and another boy". The female nurse cradle the newborn into her brace showing the father searching for any heavy emotions she has seen the past years working.

"How's my wife ? Can I see her ?" But Asher blankly question the woman trying to see a glimpse of (Y/N) not even sparing a glance at the children he shares his surname and blood leading the nurse a little baffled however she forced a smiled.

"Yes, you can but she is sleeping. Exhausted—". About to talk more when a whisk of air pass through her finding herself alone holding the children.

"The father left ?" Speechless is what she became. Meanwhile his emerald eyes soften and smile rose genuinely drank at the beautiful sleeping figure of his heart, his wife.

"I knew you wouldn't leave me". He message her skull, running smoothingly her hair and press a chaste kiss over her soak sweat forehead. "And I will make sure you never do". Because he few hours ago realized that having children shared with her will make her never again.

This stage was what completed and utterly chained her ankles to him and he swore she will only be showered by love and happiness even if it's an illusion crafted by him but one can't deny his love surely is real. "For you". He whispered. "A Honey comb trap".

FIN

[its-wabby-stuff]

My Hero Academia Post Canon Headcanons

Angst First

• Izuku wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares about Bakugos death. He still hears AFOs words saying “You’re Next,” and he has to remind himself that AFO is dead and Bakugo is alive.

• On top of the nightmares, Izuku will also wake up crying at Shigaraki’s death, the loss of his quirk, and the overall sense of failure he has.

• While they were still dorming at UA, he snuck into Bakugos room one night just to confirm.

• Inko has been on the comforting side of many of these sudden cry sessions.

• Bakugo refuses to watch any of the footage of Shigaraki’s and AFOs defeat.

• Deku would never admit it- but he hates the scar on his cheek. He thinks everyone else got cooler scars. Alternatively, he loves the scars on his hands.

• Though they weren’t around long, Deku misses talking to the vestiges, and often talks to himself in their place. Sometimes he gets caught.

• Shoto visited Touya regularly, but missed the day he died. Endevour was there.

Okay now happier ones:

• The year after the war, the popularity polls had their widest turn out ever, but more than half the votes had to be redone or didn’t count because they were for UA students.

• That was the most votes Bakugo got in his Pro Hero career thus far.

• Hawks leaked the poll results that included the UA students to Aizawa and he shared them to get the class’ spirits up.

• Deku managed to score the Number 4 spot, with the people who voted, and likely would’ve won more if they had officially been in the running, according to Hawks.

• Hawks and Aizawa retired active duty that year, and were thus not counted in the polls. Hawks was appreciative of all the fans who still voted for him.

• Todoroki took the number 6 spot in the initial polls with Bakugo shortly behind him at number 7.

• Mirio, Tamaki, and Nejire won number 6, 7, and 8 respectively in the final polls, as they had already graduated. Mirio was very grateful and cried. He gave an unprecedented speech at the ceremony where he promised to bring in this new era with a smile.

• They beat Hawks previous record of being the youngest professional heroes.

• Despite having the precedence to make his own hero agency, Tamaki still decided to sidekick under Fat Gum.

• Shoji and Tokoyami gained a fair number of fans and found themselves in the top 50. A lot of Hawks fans were looking to Tokoyami to be their next idol.

• Ochaco, Jiro and Iida also received some votes, which did bring some tears. But whether their efforts were public or not, Aizawa and Deku made a point that everyone’s contribution is what helped them ultimately win.

• Monoma even got some votes and bragged about it for months.

• Miriko, Best Jeanist, Edgeshot, Woods and Mt Lady all took the number 1-5 spots.

• Originally, Deku was to receive a statue for himself, but he refused saying that everyone deserved one, and he’d rather have one with his friends.

• The day the statue was unveiled with the caption “the greatest heroes,” Deku cried- A LOT. It was also the day the class decided to give parts of their earnings as pro heroes to the Iron Deku.

• Deku was the only one in his class to attend college, as the rest of the class became Pro Heroes after high school. They all attended his graduation from university.

• Deku never stopped running in without thinking, and it caused the embers to die out quicker.

• Deku spends way too much time at UA that half the students think he sleeps there.

• After Mr. Compress published his book, Deku decided to start writing his own.

• Deku and Bakugo regularly hang out. As do Deku and Ochaco, and Deku and Todoroki.

[anincompletelist]

[ vol i | vol ii | fic rec fridays ]

hi all! :D happy december! I've read so many amazing fics this past month and the tbr list just keeps on growing! I wanted to share some here so they don't get lost in the shuffle!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

that said, happy reading and enjoy! <3

in no particular order --

(i would stay forever if you said) don't go | @coffeecatsme | T+ | 6k

The words echo in his head, unbidden. The words from another life, practically another universe, shoved inside the small walls of a gilded cage, hidden in a room in London with shuttered windows and locked doors. A boy’s voice Henry still remembers ten years later, when he doesn’t quite remember what he had for lunch the day before. A boy’s voice on a phone that understood him better than every member of his family, even an ocean, a continent, three thousand miles away. A boy’s voice that told him in no uncertain terms that it was okay if he wasn’t okay, that allowed him to pave a path until he was. To open a new shelter in New York City, Henry needs to interview a host of potential lawyers to hire. He doesn't expect one of them to be the boy that saved his life ten years ago.

(mind the tags!)

a rich and complex tapestry | @everwitch-magiks | E | 8k

When Alex first hooks up with Henry, he's expecting a fun one-night-stand and maybe the occasional booty call. He does not expect to get so completely pulled into Henry’s orbit that it forces him to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his sexuality. And he's not sure if it makes it better, or way worse, that Henry is actually a professional at all this stuff — what are the odds that Alex would hook up with the one guy on campus who hosts his own radio show about sex? 'Sleeping With Henry' is about to gain one devoted listener.

outta luck to spend | potentiallyunloveable | T+ | 9k

“Nora ignorin’ ya?” a voice says from beside him, and Henry startles, turns to his left, is suddenly frozen. The man who’s slid into the seat next to him, silently, without Henry noticing, is quite possibly the most beautiful man Henry’s ever seen in his life. He’s got the widest smile, sweet dimples, soft brown skin and impossibly long eyelashes. He’s wearing a fucking Stetson, and Henry feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. Or: Henry (lost, hopeless) meets Alex (bright, hopeful), in a bar in Texas.

(mind the tags!)

everything's growing in our garden | @matherines | T+ | 7k

That night, in the safety of his hotel room on the outskirts of the Olympic Village, Henry couldn’t catch his breath. He coughed and coughed, feeling like he was choking on nothing, but there was a scratching sensation in his throat that he just couldn’t shake – until a single blue petal flew past his lips, landing in the porcelain bowl of the sink. After an hour of painstaking Googling, he learns that it’s a Texas bluebonnet. He also learns what the fact that he’s coughing up petals means – the beginning stages of Hanahaki Disease. Rare, but not unheard of, according to the NHS website he browses in an incognito tab. Common in royal bloodlines (thank you, inbreeding). "Only curable if the afflicted’s love is requited with a declaration," he reads, and slams his laptop closed with a bitter laugh, wet with tears. "A surgical procedure removing the afflicted’s capacity for love may be performed if the love remains unrequited. Otherwise, the condition is terminal." So, then. He has no chance.

ocean waves | seafloor | E | 10k

Henry Fox wakes up with a toothache one morning, and has a lot of feelings about certain things for days afterwards.

while you were sleeping (I fell in love) | @kill8a | M | 3k

As their relationship progresses, Alex notices that Henry’s sleeping habits start to progress as well. Notably, more naps, less insomnia, and a knack for falling asleep at any hour of the day.

So I Will Weather The Storm | @sparklepocalypse | E | 9k

They’re in the air twenty minutes before the next report comes in, this time over their headsets. “Patient is located on the eastern side of Sgòr Gaoith. He reports a sudden snow squall came up, and he lost his footing and took a fall. He’s conscious and reports no major injuries, but he’s stuck on a ledge and can’t make it back to the trail. Patient is wearing a red jacket and a black knit cap and states his name is – ” there’s a burst of static over the radio. “Please repeat the patient’s name,” Henry says into the headset mic as Schlosser programs the mountain’s location into the GPS. There’s a bit more static, and then the dispatcher states, “Alexander Claremont-Diaz.” (Or, a movieverse canon divergent AU wherein Henry is in the RAF and Cakegate still takes place, but the PR campaign doesn't happen – and two months after Cakegate, Alex does something dumb on a mountain in Scotland.)

crawl | ironwords | E | 6k

“Well,” Alex says. He swallows, mouth dry. Closes his eyes, takes the hand not in Henry’s and runs it along his tummy, up and up to his bottom rib and then up over that as well. The skin is soft, but the bones under them are hard, firm under Alex’s palm; his fingers dance over the spaces and grooves, feeling along the edges of bone and dipping into the empty space between. Deep breath: in, out. In again, hold it for a few seconds, then out. Then: “I want to, like. Be in you.” Oh wow. Nice one, Alex. Awesome phrasing. Fucking great job.

'til the walls did crumble and | @ninzied | E | 5k

So much for using the wrong fork at dinner. He’s pretty sure this is a thousand times worse. Hundred-thousand? Nora could give him the exact number. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s still buttercream on his ass. (Or, Alex has his bisexual awakening in a bathroom at Buckingham Palace, and also finds leftover cake in Henry’s hair. The two things are not not related.)

Moon Bride (To Have and To Hold) | satinbirds | M | 7k

When the man is brought before him, it’s as if the whole world stops. Clad in delicate gossamer, his apparent frailty is accentuated by the sheer fabric. It is likely a cheap attempt to entice him, yet it only elicits displeasure from the king. He already wishes to dress this fragile figure in the veil of his people, cover him from invidious and lustful eyes.

It's Called Tact, Fuck-Rag! | @largepeachicedtea | E | 12k

Texas had been an odd choice, some might say. Henry thinks it's perfect. College is a time to go crazy, after all. (A Scream AU)

(mind the tags!)

Aftercare | @whimsymanaged | M | 2k

When Alex has an intense hookup without aftercare, he finds himself on his best friend Henry’s doorstep in desperate need of looking after.

--

that's all for now!! hoping to get some more free time this month to read once I finish up some wips! be kind to one another this holiday season, and happy reading! :D

-- sarah / anincompletelist xx

[hail-brod]

Smile, Smile. 2

Gwen Stacy x FReader

Previous chapter: Part 1 || Masterlist

Gwen promised to herself that she would be sweeping you off your feet with elation the moment she sees you again. Well, a year of her disappearing into dimensions didn't sit quite well for the both of you. Or not.

Gwen was finally back home, in her own universe and this time she makes sure that she didn’t end up in a different one. A repeat of what happened to Miles the first time was disastrous as it is.

One call for her father was all it took before she was met by his paused form from the kitchen and not like before, he looked to be doing fine. For a second Gwen thought she did actually end up in a different universe but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, her shoulders sagged in relief.

“Welcome back.”

She didn’t waste a second to run up to his arms for a fairly long embrace.

Everything up to now was tough. Her father was one of the many important things in her life and she almost tried to abandon that warmth after her best friend’s death. It feels as though, she had lost hope on the people that was close to her but deep down inside, there was only one thing she wanted- and that was for them to understand her.

She was no longer a stray spider, webbing her way into one universe after another. This is where she belonged and she’ll cherish her time wisely because there is only one sole universe that she can call home. And she has one purpose that she intends to do. One of the many reasons that made her long to go back. That have always been nagging her mind ever since she was pushed in the light of things about your variants.

Your variants. Your other selves.

In some other dimension, you were dead. In some, you were alive and well. And in some, you were hopelessly trying to live until it does eventually start to swallow you whole.

You hid so many things with that same, damn. fucking. smile.

Gwen had so many questions about why. Why were you hurting? Why were you suffering? She wanted to know and it proved to be hard to find herself meddle about your life’s experiences. With Lyla’s help in gathering data about you, she came to understand some more things. You always know how to mend that perfect smile, easy to fool anyone with how optimistic it looks, until one certain thing happens that would crack your display as it will leave room for the following things that was meant to always happen to you. It was a part of your existence, and what lies behind your façade is your struggle to look at the brighter side of things.

And one major event that always happen is when you lose your one and only anchor in life, your older sibling.

Death would always play a big part on things and she hates it. Like a phase in life that no one can escape, but that’s life trying to overthrow the joys of living. Getting through it is never easy but there are always times that will make way for a new start. She believes that. There will always be someone that’ll come to wipe the tears away and someone that’ll crumble the walls down.

And Gwen doesn’t give a shit if she wasn’t fated to be by your side. She damn well knows what she wants and she won’t resist anymore, because you were her anchor when she felt like tearing the world apart.

Even her little crush on you seemed to bloom into something more. If she cared so much about you before—that that was clear enough when her mind was always finding ways to think of you—then now, it seems like she values nothing else but making your smile truer than you want it to be. She’ll be a friend to you even if she harboured feelings to you that you might not accept. She’ll be someone you can rely on whenever you’re at your lowest.

She’ll be the one to see the widest smiles that you can show.

She knows she’d been only speculating from different variants of you and she might be wrong in assuming your situation, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try to make things better. She has knowledge that she can put to use and she’s not about to waste a second in pondering over it. Way before knowing anything, you were not just someone she admired, you were also her friend. There’s no way something like canon can stop her. She learned that the hard way.

But there is one problem she has to face.

She has been away for a year

How would you feel about her suddenly appearing out of nowhere and being all buddy-buddy with you? She’d never really warn you about going away for quite a long time and she feels like a jerk for not doing so. How were you doing? Did you already forgot about her? Do you still consider as a friend? How funny is that when all this time she has been thinking about you throughout different dimensions then comes back to find out that you might’ve already been out of her reach.

It unnerves her, making her stomach churn.

She just hopes that isn’t the case.

But then, she almost paled when she discovered you haven’t been going to classes for the past few days. Her anxiety boiled within her like an incoming eruption of regret, and despair was about to fill her heart. She didn’t want to believe anything her mind whispers to her nor the uncanny way they mocked her for failing to be by your side.

“Gwen?” Then you called.

 

She can only frown at the voice. It was so familiar she immediately turned to look behind her. And you were standing there, alive and….well.

Were you?

But she could only freeze on the spot while she took in your sudden appearance (considering she was supposed to be the sudden one), a moment spent to readjust her thinking process that, you were there. Every inkling feeling of dread was washed down the drain once she completely realized that she hasn’t lost you. She wasn’t too late. Your shocked look was what she saw first- but that faded away when Gwen saw how your shoulders tensed down at the sight of her.

Then you smiled.

That same damn smile. Still blinding and enthralling. But she couldn’t help but doubt the honesty in your expression. Because she knows. Then again, she didn’t want to assume.

“You remember me.” Her stiff shoulders relaxed, chuckling lightly. “I thought you’ve already forgotten about me after a year.”

“What are you saying?” You frown, a hint of disbelief in your tone. “I may not have the best memory but you have left quite the impression on me, Gwen Stacy.”

Then you chuckle back before asking. “How…How have you been?”

Gwen stares at you. You were…lighthearted. From this simple reunion with you, it was hard not to think about how you actually feel but then, you hit her with the impression of an easygoing girl who has been nothing but peachy.

Scratch that. If she’s going to keep being a worrywart, that’s surely only going to make you feel obligated. She had one purpose and that is to be a close friend to you that you can lean on anytime.

“I’m quite fine actually.” She replies with a gentle smile. “Look, [Y/N], sorry about disappearing on you. I don’t want to give you excuses but- I just don’t want you to think that I left without thinking about you.” Gwen breathes out.

You find yourself speechless at her words before blinking. “Oh- Wha- H-Hey, no big deal. It’s fine really. I understand where you’re going with that and I’m not mad about it.” You let out a nervous laugh.

Gwen only gives you a pointed glance, observing your slight frantic form, still smiling at her genuinely that she can’t help but stare longer. No matter how many times she told herself that you were an angel, she still can’t wrap it around her head how forgiving you can be. Though, she won’t just let herself get away from a simple forgiveness just because you were too nice. She wants you to know how much she regrets leaving you for a year and she’s not backing down.

Smiling, she retorts. “Well, whether you like it or not, I’m going to annoy you every single day from now on. I’m back now and you’re the only one that I can really think of in this entire school so….beware.”

Giggling, Gwen locks her arm with yours as you could only look up to her with round eyes and gaping lips. Your visible shock wasn’t all that exaggerated but it was enough for Gwen to see the transition when you eventually cracked up a small laugh out of your lips.

Gwen’s heart swelled.

“I think… I don’t have a problem with that.” You commented, bringing out a modest smile. Though, she surely didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed. Then you look at her with something that seemed so soft than your usual gaze. “Welcome back, Gwen.”

As simple as those words coming from your lips, it was enough to make her heart pound for you more. But she contains it- she tries.

“Only for you, [Y/N].” She says without hesitating.

Was that too much? Did she sounded like she was flirting?

Her thoughts wanted to spiral out of control but by that time, it was unavoidable to feel the rising embarrassment up her cheeks and one last resort she could only think of was drag you deeper in the halls of your school. She likes to think that she handled that quite smoothly but she knows she faltered and flinched at how she acted out.

Awkward, maybe.

But fortunately, when Gwen sneakily glanced at you- she pretended she didn’t just see how you meekly shifted your gaze away from her as your face burned darker in red.

Oh.

She can feel her pride rising up.

Even if that gives her some sort of hope for a higher relationship with you, she’s going to set that aside…for now. After all, being friends with you has always been one of the many things she came to cherish.

.

You liked Gwen.

She was…a great friend. She was someone you never thought would be willing to stick by your side; longer than you’d expect. You saw her as someone that’s so easygoing and a good-hearted person. But on the contrary, some of the people you know say the opposite views about her.

Gwen Stacy.

The girl that you only saw in the corridors of your school and a schoolmate that you never really paid much attention to. She was just someone that you knew from afar, her name mentioned here and there from a few of your other friends, the common and casual way of hearing about someone. You never judged her based on the whispers and gossips that the other students would mumble about because you simply didn’t want to be that kind of person who adheres to baseless claims of people they clearly didn’t knew anything about. So when you got to meet her personally, you didn’t threw her under the bus.

You didn’t really care much if your judgments were to be proven wrong but the fact that Gwen herself was the one to approach you was enough for you to accept her friendship.

But at the end, you thought it was only going to be a one-time friendly interaction that will eventually fade after a few weeks. You knew people didn’t found you interesting enough to stick by and it was always the case with everyone you knew.

You never had deep connections with others and you weren’t aware you could actually do. People will always leave no matter what the stakes are and you’ve come to accept that as the norm.

But you were wrong.

Gwen proved you wrong. For as much as many times you see each other at school, hallways, library or even bathroom—she never failed to give you attention and acknowledge your presence as if you were the most interest thing she had ever seen that day. Her smiles greet you with so much elation that you never really came to acknowledge how different she makes you feel. How gentle she taps unto the corners of your mind and that in a single moment, you’ve considered her as a friend that you never had.

In no time, you became fond of her.

Though, neither of you tapped into closer bonds. Or more like, you feel that Gwen was holding herself back. And that pinched something inside your heart.

But the more the days went by with her distancing herself from you, the more you feel like- that was it. You really thought you could have the one single thing you have always wanted. That one belonging feeling you’ve always wanted to experience with a peer that can understand and share whatever feelings or sentiments you genuinely want to show. A newborn fear enraged itself inside you and it felt like...you were being dragged down deeper in the hells of your mind.

Then…

You never saw Gwen again.

You never thought you were capable of feeling a different kind of ache in your heart after that, leaving a crack that you didn’t know would fare far worse in the future.

At least, supposedly.

Because when you recognized her back facing you, blonde hair with an undercut on the side, your heart almost leaped out of your chest.

That day…...you genuinely smiled.

Previous chapter: Part 1 || Masterlist

Ko-fi?